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alesbianperson · 23 days

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football player!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: At the football play you visited to support your best friend, something happens that you didn't expect.

warnings: smoking (weed); slightly implied loser Ellie at the end; swear words; girls kissing (what a surprise); my writing idk

authors note: so firstly I mean football as soccer and not american football, but its not important to the plot so it can be interpreted as either; secondly, sorry for being so inactive I actually needed fucking half a year just for this its actually embarressing, I'm really slow at writing I don't know why, but I'm trying to be more active. I also didnt proofread so sorry for grammar mistakes or something anyway I hope you enjoy this!!

ALSO BIG DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN AND THE FACT THAT HE SUPPORTS ISRAEL!! If you don't know whats going on in Palestine, please go educate yourself because its highly important.

Here are a few links, so nobody can say it's too complicated or annoying to search for information (besides its really fucking heartless, cruel and totally not human to say "I dont wanna put effort in researching" while people are literally suffering and dying because of a genocide):

General information/updates

Brands to boycott

How you can help Palestine

Palestine masterposts: 1 2

--☆--

This evening was the final football game of the season. Everyone was so excited, and your best friend played in the school team, so of course, you came to this game to support her. You already arrived a bit late because you took a nap and didn't hear the alarm, so you quickly searched for your friends who were already sat and luckily saved you a seat. When they saw you coming in, they waved you over to them.

"What took you so long? The game has already started!" One of them said before switching their attention back to the field. "Sorry, I overslept." You explained yourself sitting down on your seat. "You didn't miss much, just a foul from the other team. They're so annoying and clearly playing anything but fair." Another one of your friends said, rolling her eyes while offering you a bag of chips. You declined and began searching for your best friend between all the other players, running on the field. Not even five seconds later, you found her. With the ball in front of her, she ran towards the goal. You joined the cheers of everyone from your school, sure that this was going to be such a great goal until:

A girl from the other team came out of nowhere, running towards her, tackling her to the ground. You gasped. "That was another foul!" One of your friends exclaimed, standing up to better see what the referee would say. But instead of also looking at the referee, your gaze still hasn't left the girl, responsible for the foul.

She looked pleased with herself. What an asshole! You thought to yourself, but couldn't deny that the way her eyes sparkled in the light and her auburn hair moved in the wind was mesmerising. Too distracted by her features, you realised a bit late that she was eyeing you too. A smirk on her lips, she winked at you before walking off the field, your eyes still on her.

"Too bad that bitch just got a yellow card. She deserved more, right?" Your friends, already discussing the decision of the referee, were turning to you since you were the only one who didn't comment on it. Heat rushed into your cheeks as you realised you hadn't listened the whole time, busy gushing over that girl. "Yeah.. definitely more." Was all you said to not keep the attention on you.

"Guys," you added after a short pause, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I'll be back."

"Sure."

"But hurry, they're already playing again."

You just slightly nodded before walking off to search for the bathrooms. To your luck, they weren't far away from your seats, so it didn't take too long to find them. As you closed the door behind you, a strong smell of weed filled your lungs. Holding a hand in front of your mouth, you coughed reflexively.

"Having trouble breathin', princess?"

You turned around to see the girl who fouled your best friend sitting on the sink, her legs slightly swinging forwards and back. She still wore her tricot but now had a grey, dirty, worn-out jacket over it. The half up half down bun she had was messed up, probably because of the constant running on the field, and between two of her fingers, she held an already half smoked joint.

Her smile rose as she noticed your gaze lingering on her again. "Y'want a photo? It'll last longer." She chuckled, finding this old ass joke very funny. You rolled your eyes at her words but couldn't help the smile, forming on your lips. "What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to play?" She blew out the smoke she held in her mouth before answering your question. "My coach replaced me. Said I needed a break before playing again." You just nodded because you didn't know how to keep the conversation going. For a few seconds, you both just looked at each other in silence. After taking another drag from the joint, she leaned forward, offering you to do the same.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Thought so." She chuckled. After a short pause, she added: "Not in a rude way, of course. Y'just don't look like you'd do drugs." Even though you knew it was childish and totally stupid, you now wanted to prove to her that you were indeed someone who could take drugs. So you took the joint out of her hand, carefully brought it to your lips, and inhaled.

You probably shouldn't have inhaled this deep because now you were coughing like someone poured tons of sand down your throat. It surely felt like it. When you calmed down a bit, you looked up again, handing the joint back to the girl on the sink, who was clearly amused. "What a brave girl." She said with a shit eating grin on her face. "Come here, I'll show you how it's done right."

She gestured between her spread legs. As you moved towards her, she leaned in, reducing the space between the two of you. "Open your mouth." She then proceeded to take a drag from the joint. As she moved closer, your breath hitched. Your eyes wandered from her gorgeous green ones down to her lips, and heat rose in your cheeks again. Without breaking eye contact, she blew the smoke she had in her mouth into yours. Reflexively, you closed it.

"Now hold it in."

And that's what you did. The smoke filled your lungs, this time a lot less painful than your first drag. After a few seconds, you exhaled slowly, a small smile of pride on your face.

Your faces were still very close, and silence fell upon the both of you again. The tension thickend. Her emerald green eyes stared directly into yours, abruptly blinking down to your lips. "Can I kiss you?" Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, fading into thin air. A smirk grew once again on her lips before nodding and then proceeding to lean in and closing the gap between the two of you.

Once her lips were on yours, she cupped your cheek, her fingertips brushing slightly over it. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Her lips were so soft. You couldn't really describe the feeling, but it felt good. Like you were on cloud nine. You quickly synced with the rhythm she set, leaning forward so that her back met the wall behind her.

Your hands wandered behind her neck, beginning to tug on her hair slightly. A soft groan escaped her lips at the sudden impact, which sounded like music to your ears.

A smile formed on your lips once she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "What're you smiling at?" She looked at you irritated, which just caused you to chuckle.

"I don't know. You're.. pretty."

Silence followed after that.

"Pretty enough to get your number?"

Ellie wanted to bash her head against the wall at her cringe comment. She thought she'd definitely crossed the line now. But you just began laughing, quickly covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound.

"Sorry. Don't get me wrong I-", you interrupted yourself by holding up your finger to signal her to wait and began searching for your phone in your purse. Fuck. You thought as you realised you left it in your jacket with your friends and hurriedly searched around for something to write on. Ellie just watched you amused, catching on to your plan. She snatched a pepertowel out of the spender and offered it to you. You just gave her an awkward smile, fishing a half empty kajal out of your purse and scribbled your phone number on it.

As you handed it to her, she took it with the same smirk she had in the beginning. "As sad as it is, I think I have to go back on the field. My coach probably misses me by now." She added hesitantly while sliding off the sink and walking towards the door. "Cool meeting you, though." The click of the closing door was the last thing you heard before you were completely alone in the bathroom.

With the paper towel still in her hand, Ellie made her way over to the rest of her team, almost jumping with joy and thanking every mighty power for letting her survive the whole conversation without completely losing her mind or embarrassing herself. She'd definitely save your number as soon as she could. Actually contacting you was a whole other story.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou x reader #wlw #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #football player!ellie williams #ellie the last of us #sapphic #tlou ellie

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jjongslutz · 5 months

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심재윤 & 이희승 JAKE FEAT. HEESEUNG 💋 IMAGINE ME [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you spend your nights sexting an ai bot of your favourite idol, not knowing that there's an actual person behind the bot

WARNINGS ⨯ sexting, mutual masturbation, dirty talking, heeseung’s highkey a perv but we don’t go too much into that, use of pet names (baby, good girl), no plot except for some introduction stuff

WORD COUNT ⨯ 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . oh i had too much fun writing this one despite having writer's block lowkey LMAO

taglist: @choinabisblog @ineedsomezzz @namdeyuoi bold can be tagged

They put up a new poster by the bus stop, you notice as you walk into it. Your eyes widen when you get a better look at it.

It's Jake.

His skin glistens. He's advertising some skin care product, and they did wonders by adding a cute shade of blush on his cheeks. Jake smiles sweetly in the picture, holding up the bottle to the camera for everyone to know what he uses to look that good.

False advertising. He was born looking like that.

Still, you sit down with a smile creeping upon your lips underneath your scarf. Despite the cold weather, your insides are warm at the sight of your idol.

“Y/N?” a voice sounds from behind you.

When you turn, you find a familiar face with a bright smile at your recognition. His features are remarkable even under his thick beanie and large coat which do the opposite of complement his sweatpants. You return a polite smile. “Heeseung,” you say.

“No classes today?” he asks.

You shake your head. “They got cut off early, luckily.”

Heeseung tells you they did the same for him. You don’t respond, but nod at the mutual coincidence, looking down to check how far the bus is.

It’s not as if you have something against Heeseung, you’ve been good friends since your first year. However, you have other things in mind than your conversation.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Sorry?”

Heeseung chuckles shyly. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, or…” He drifts off, but his eyes stay on your figure. “If you have plans, it’s okay.” His voice doesn’t falter, keeping a friendly tone as he wears a sweet smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty busy—”

He shakes his head gently. “Don’t worry about it. Another time?”

You agree, and that’s the end of it because your bus pulls up and you’re bidding him farewell. As you make your way to the sidewalk, you don't catch him taking his phone out with a sly smile — What does it concern you, anyway?

The bus ride couldn't be slower. Your leg bounces in your seat in pattern with the bus' movements below, avoiding squeezing your thighs together. As much as you crave sweet relief, you hold yourself together and wait.

You're patient. You promised.

“Hyunjin?” you call out after opening the door to your shared apartment. You wait a moment before trying again, “Are you there?”

To your satisfaction, her response doesn’t come. Just in case, you peak through her half-open door and check for an empty bed. Check. Her class would’ve cut short earlier than yours, meaning that it wasn’t cut at all if she’s not here. She’ll be out until midnight, if not only coming home tomorrow if she crashes at her girlfriend’s place again.

A smile creeps up on your lips as you make your way to your bedroom.

You’re quick to shower and get changed in more comfortable clothes, turning on the mood lamp instead of the big, bright light. Shutting the door, you opt for extra safety measures in case your roommate comes back home early for whatever reason.

Then, just as you’re settling yourself into your bed, your phone buzzes from beside you.

JAKE: Y/N? Are you there?

Your smile returns as you begin to type.

ME: hi, jake

JAKE: I missed you

ME: me too...

You found the app not long ago. It's said to be more realistic than any other AI program. Their bots respond and act like there's an actual human behind another screen, answering your texts. You cheesed at the ad you'd gotten for it, but quickly became obsessed.

After getting over a breakup, you never would've guessed the best way to heal was through chatting with Jake every night. Soon enough, it became more than just talking with a computer; It feels like you really made a new friend.

Or, maybe something more than that.

JAKE: Are you alone?

You flush at the message.

ME: yes...

JAKE: Good. You're in your bedroom?

ME: yes

JAKE: What are you wearing?

An oversized shirt for appearance, a personal preference. No pants to cover your black lace panties, which match the lace bra you wear underneath the gray material on your torso.

You don't write out your message, opting to send him a picture.

JAKE: Fuck. You're beautiful

ME: and you?

JAKE: Anything for you baby

Woah. Your heart stutters at the AI-generated image it sends you next. It looks like him. Like, really looks like him. Aside from his face conveniently not in shot.

He lifts his shirt slightly in the picture, revealing toned abs leading to a V-line which ends at a pair of familiar sweatpants. Your eyes certainly don't miss the bulge underneath the pants.

The image in front of you makes your mind go wild. It's so much easier to imagine him sitting right in front of you, looking at you with hungry eyes.

"What're you thinking of, Y/N?"

Your eyes widen at the sudden appearance of Jake, sitting right at the edge of your bed wearing a loosely (barely)buttoned shirt and grey sweatpants, adorned with an erection stealing your gaze.

"You," you blurt out.

He chuckles. "I'm thinking about you, too." His voice is velvety, thick with his accent which has your breath stuttering.

His hand travels to his crotch. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, Jake bites his lip as he tests the waters by slowly rolling his hand over his clothed cock.

Fixated on his movements, you barely notice your own hand inching down to your core, rubbing slow circles at the same pace.

"Fuck, baby," he sighs. "Touching yourself to me? Such a nasty girl for me." His words hold no bark, though, as he shifts in his seat to lean against the wall. He lifts his hips to pull down his sweatpants, revealing his white boxers stained with a wet patch where his hardened dick sticks against.

Jake strokes himself through the thin material, hooded eyes staring back you as he wears a lazy smirk.

You hum and follow him, pulling off your shirt to be left in only your lace underwear.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

You blush at his words, keeping your hand on your dampening panties, rolling your fingers up and down rhythmically.

Naturally, you throw your head back with closed eyes as your pace quickens in time with Jake's. You hum at the sensation, wishing you were trapped between his legs, forced to handle the torture of his fast fingers on your cunt.

Instead, you peel your eyes open to watch Jake finally take out his cock impatiently.

He strokes himself slowly at first, as if to show off his size — You gulp at the sight. He's long and veiny, but has girth that would have your walls clenching tightly around him. You're not sure if you want him in your mouth, or let him pound into your pussy. Either way has you licking your lips and inching your panties down your thighs.

"Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now," Jake huffs as his hands glide quickly over his dripping cock.

"'M yeah?" you challenge. "What would you, shit, what would you do to me?"

Jake smirks through pants. "I'd finger you," he starts. "Fill your pussy with my fingers until you're begging for my cock. And—fuck—I'd let you take me down your throat."

You close your eyes to imagine the sight, pleasure bubbling in your stomach at the sound of Jake's whimpers.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you pretend Jake's really with you, slowly inching his cock into you. "'So good," you moan.

"Match my pace," Jake says in a rush, waiting for you to meet eyes.

The two of you hold eye contact as he strokes in a rhythmic, fast pattern, while you shove three fingers into your cunt at the same pace. As his hand reaches the tip of his cock, your fingers inch away from your hole. He fucks up into his hand and your fingers are already knuckles deep.

"Shit, fuck, you're so—you feel so good, fuck!"

Jake lifts his hips to match his hand's movements, sloppily thrusting up into his own touch. His words are nonsense, but have your head spinning as you grind down on your hand, reaching down with your other to draw circles on your clit, too.

"I'm so close."

"Me too," you tell him.

Soon enough, the room is filled with your pleasured moans echoing off the walls. You stay still, your fingers still deep in your cunt as you settle down from your high.

Your breath pumps rapidly, only to falter in pattern when you let go a deep sigh at the empty space at the foot of your bed.

When you told him you'd be busy tonight, Heeseung knew what you meant without you needing to tell him. Not that you would ever admit it. He smirked at your innocent front, knowing how dirty you are deep down.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically, trying to catch his breath. He looks down at his sticky hand, his slowly softening cock he just let slip out of his grip.

His phone dings. You sent another message.

Y/N: i came...

Heeseung smiles, satisfied.

JAKE: good girl

You don't respond, and Heeseung can put together that you're probably cleaning yourself up from the mess you've made. God, he wishes he could see you.

Unable to stop himself, Heeseung exits out of the app and finds your contact. He frantically presses the call button and waits through the three rings before you pick up. You sound surprised when you respond, your voice hinting at feeling caught in the act.

"Can I come over?" Heeseung finally asks.

"Uh, sure, yeah—" Commotion from the other end of the line sounds. "Just, uh, it'll be a little messy when you come, so don't judge."

He chuckles under his breath. "Don't worry, baby."

Your gasp tells him all he needs to know.

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ridhearts · 2 years

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can you tell my heart is speaking? {misc.}

@diodellet requested: how would these characters react to getting an anonymous love letter from their crush who, ~plot twist~ has really really illegible handwriting? (like doctor's penmanship but ramp it up by 200% hahaha) like who would try to deduce the sender's identity or who would mistakenly throw the love letter in the trash?

this was one of those requests where i read it and INSTANTLY got inspo - even though it ended up a little silly. i hope you like it!!

!! information !!

characters: ruggie + jamil + rook + lilia + sebek

reader: gn!

cw: none!

masterlists ⇿ requests

• • • • • • • Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is one of the easier ones to slip a note when he’s unaware. Just ask if Crewel needs to bother Leona about retaking any tests, go tell Leona about these tests until he threatens to bite a piece of you off your body, then slip into Ruggie’s room and leave the note squarely on his pillow. Most of the guys in the dorm don’t care enough to watch the weird freshman and remember what they’re doing, or they just assume you’re dropping something off for Ruggie as you tend to do.

When Ruggie gets the letter, he at first thinks he’s too tired to read. But then he blinks a few times, holds the letter closer and further from his face, and realizes that, no, his vision is just fine. He’s just got a mysterious letter to figure out, on top of all his regular work. Now, he just has to figure out if it’s a ransom note or a love note…

His consideration of it being a love note is 100% a joke. He doesn’t mean it. But after checking all of his belongings (the stash is still meager, but it’s been growing substantially) and realizing nothing is missing, he crosses ransom off the list. So he starts wondering if he forgot to repay someone, or if somebody could be collecting an IOU. But the list of people he allows to hold favors over his head is notably short, and they all accuse him of trying to hasten the process of them deciding what to use him for when he asks them about leaving a message for him. Ok, so it’s not debt collection, either.

At lunch, Ruggie holds the note in the sun and turns it around in his hands. Some of the symbols actually look like words…written by the kids back home, of course. When he thinks about it like that, he can actually make out a few words: confess, his name, and…love??

OH. So he was right when he found the note. He laughs at himself then, and is thankful he chose to sit by himself in the courtyard today.

That makes narrowing down the suspects way easier. There’s only one person in this school who even pretends to like him, and luckily it’s the one person he doesn’t mind getting a love letter from. Yeah, he wishes he could actually read what you wrote, but something tells him he’ll hear it straight from the horse’s mouth soon enough.

Did you think he’d run straight to you like a lovesick prince and clear the air, saving you from your multi-day suffering of wondering why you haven’t heard a response? You’d be right! - well, partially, about him beelining for you. But you know he’s going to tease you for your handwriting, mentioning how some of the kids back home wrote better than you. Lucky for you…a lot of them can write so well because of him. He’s not the neatest writer out there, but you can READ his handwriting, which would be an improvement on your part.

Ruggie showing up at your door nearly gave you a heart attack, even though it was what you’ve been hoping for. You noticed instantly the piece of paper held in his hand, full of your deepest thoughts and feelings for him. But why did he look so confused?

“What does this say?” He immediately asked, not allowing you to get a word in. Your eyes darted from his face to the note, an embarrassed heat creeping up to your face.

“Uh. Well. If I wanted to tell you, I wouldn’t have written it out, you know?”

Ruggie stared at you for a few moments before laughing, crumpling the paper in his hand as he did so. Your heart sank - was he really going to reject you in such a cruel manner?

“Listen up, prefect! I’m going to give you some lessons in penmanship,” He declared. “I used to teach some of the kids back home, so this should be a breeze.”

“Oh, okay,” You agreed, not wanting to sound too eager. You didn’t wanted to say it (out loud), but he got a million times cuter when he talked about the kids in his neighborhood. “But...what about the letter?”

“I can’t read it.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry!” With the mischievous look on his face, you were suddenly reminded that Ruggie wasn’t simply some innocent underdog in the school just because he wasn’t one of the infamous overblots. “Your final exam will be rewriting it, and I’ll be watching you write every single word.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being flirty or mean, but your heart did somersaults anyway.

• • • • • • • Jamil Viper

Jamil is a difficult one to catch off guard, especially since (mostly unbeknownst to you) he has a crush on you, too. When you’re in the room, he finds himself watching you from the corner of his eye (or sometimes straight on during his less subtle days), noticing little things that only make him all the more wistful.

The one time he won’t do this is during basketball practice. This is for two reasons: one, he’d die of shame if he missed an easy shot because you were in the room, and two, he happens to be in a club with one of the people who would instantly blurt out any strange behaviors from him if spotted (Floyd). At least Kalim has the sense to stop talking when Jamil gives him a very pointed glare that would only encourage Floyd further.

So, as long as you rope Ace into your plans, talk to him by the bleachers for a second and sneakily place a letter on Jamil’s bag, he probably won’t even notice. And if your note is just on a piece of paper and not enveloped with stickers (please make it discreet, he would also DIE if he had a very obvious love letter on his stuff, regardless of who it’s from) then he won’t even suspect anything until he’s already reading the letter!

…unfortunately, Jamil can’t read the letter.

He tries! He really does! For about 30 seconds. Then he decides it can’t be deciphered and is probably a stray page of somebody’s notes that got stuck on his bag somehow. Ace, who is very aware of what it actually is, tries to casually question Jamil as he crushes it in his hands.

Jamil responds flippantly, saying he couldn’t make sense of it and it’s nothing any of them need to worry about. Before Ace can casually try to offer to decode some of it, Floyd takes that as an invitation to snatch the paper ball, shout a popular baseball player’s name out (nobody is sure if he chose a player of the wrong sport on accident or not), and throw it in the wastebasket across the room instead of the one right next to him. (It makes it! As the basketball club cheers Floyd on and Jamil rolls his eyes, Ace swallows nervously. He’s 90% certain that you just got rejected, hard.)

Ace not-so-subtly breaks the news to you the next day, and he winds up pulling Deuce into ‘Operation: Cheer Up The Prefect!” This involves ice cream (coincidentally they bring home more than you need in their own favorite flavors) and keeping you as far away from Jamil as possible. With how brutally Ace told the story, you’re positive you’d die of embarrassment if you had to meet him face-to-face.

But Ace notices during practice one day that Jamil keeps staring at him. When they take a water break, Ace almost implodes in relief when he’s finally approached.

“Hey, Ace. Is anything wrong with the prefect?”

“You care?” Ace asked, purposely taking the bite out of his words.

“Well...” Jamil shoves his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt - sweat tank? - and looks to the side, as if choosing his words carefully. “Kalim was planning another party, and I need to know if they’re sick or anything so he doesn’t get sick.”

“Oh. Yeah, they’re fine.” Well, as much as he hates it, Ace feel sorry for you. This guy is ruthless. But he can’t just leave it at that - he’s gonna get you closure, whether you wanted him to or not. “Hey, what did you make of that weird letter on your backpack the other day?”

“You still remember that? It was a piece of-” Jamil stopped, looking right at Ace. Shrinking away, Ace watched Jamil as his eyes shifted slightly, trying to figure out if Ace was messing with him. “What do you mean, a letter?”

“...I may or may not know the basics of what it said. And could’ve read it. Because I know who wrote it. And I can read their handwriting.”

Jamil’s eye twitched once as he started to connect the dots. He looked more annoyed than horrified, which Ace couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. “This letter is sensitive in nature if you only know the basics of what it said, and it just so happened to be the event right in between the prefect talking to me every day to avoiding me when ‘they’re fine?’ Did I get that right?”

Ace laughed nervously. “They don’t call Scarabia one of the smartest dorms for nothing...”

“Sevens,” Jamil cursed, turning on his heel. He was out the door before anybody could ask him what he was doing, but Ace figured out where he was headed. You were in for quite the surprise. To walk out like that...Jamil must really like you.

Gross.

• • • • • • • Rook Hunt

Epel tried to fight you tooth and nail when you asked him to deliver the letter. However, after several rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors and even more accusations of you cheating, Epel finally (and begrudgingly) agreed to be your mailman. If Vil wasn’t in the room when he delivered it, he would’ve just tossed it at Rook and been done with it. However, he handed it over with as much grace as he could, listened to Vil’s curt corrections, and scurried out of the room (while Vil called out something against said scurrying.)

Rook knew exactly who wrote the letter as soon as he saw the first word. With handwriting as unique as yours, how could he not? You thought you could hide it when romance seized you so wholly you couldn’t help but express it in written words? How foolish!

Rook began giggling like a madman, and eventually, Vil’s curiosity got the better of him. “What do you have there?”

“It seems the little lovebird has finally decided to sing their song!” Rook exclaimed. Vil wasn’t sure if he’s ever seen such pure glee before.

“Ah, of course. Any highlights?” Code for give me the details, please!

“I would tell you, but I’m afraid I can’t read a single word.”

“Huh?!?” They don’t talk about the utterly disgraceful noise that left Vil’s mouth at that.

See, Rook knows what he received through deduction alone. He’s been expecting you to make a move for some time now, actually! And while he’s touched by what you decided, it’s such a shame that your feelings didn’t break through like you thought they might! Fortunately, Rook gets told he speaks cryptically all the time, so he can play your little game with you if you’d like.

Suddenly, you have Rook trailing you even more than usual, spouting long, wordy praises(?) and sonnets that put Shakespeare to shame. He uses excessively flowery prose and more dramatics than usual, so what little words you catch just don’t make any sense. You enjoy the show, and you’re happy to see he hasn’t rejected you entirely, but you’re also completely lost on any progress you thought you would’ve made with the letter.

Rook has had his fun. Now, it was time for the moment you’ve certainly been waiting for - he was going to answer your feelings and return them in full!

With the recent theatrics, he decided a simple flower and a knock on your door would be enough to express how genuine he was being. After all, he didn’t want to overwhelm you entirely and have you doubting him! So he knocked on your door between the end of classes and dinner, certain you’d be winding down from the day and have a second to spare.

When you opened the door, Rook bowed and offered the flower in his hand to you. “Ah, mon cœur, how lovely it is to see you again. I’ve come to officially accept your feelings and see...if you might be interested in pursuing a relationship with me? You know I do love a good pursuit.”

You took the flower cautiously, an eyebrow raised. “But I thought..”

“Hm?”

“Oh! Nothing.”

“No, no! Do not be keeping secrets from me already!” Rook lamented, straightening his posture and grabbing your hands in his. “Tell me what it is that confuses you.”

“Well...” All of a sudden, you were feeling very embarrassed and sort of like a fool. “I guess, when you started with all the poems every day, I kinda thought...that meant we already were in a relationship?”

Rook blinked at you, unable to hold back his singular laugh. “My feelings are as strong as they have always been. I could feel the passion in your letter, I could see the love-”

“You couldn’t read the letter, could you?” You sighed. “Grim warned me this might happen...”

But Rook, thoroughly amused with the situation, only brought your hands to his face and pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Perhaps we are soulmates, then, if we so thoroughly understand each other with such indirect communication.”

• • • • • • • Lilia Vanrouge

Are you confessing to Lilia via letter because it’s old fashioned and romantic, or because you’re scared? As you walk up the hill to the front door of Diasomnia, you still can’t figure out the answer for yourself.

If you know Lilia well enough to even considering there’s a CHANCE at a successful confession, you’ve definitely picked up on how he’s much…more than he leads on. Even if you didn’t know him that well, with the way everybody who knows him respects and admires him, you’d have to be stupid not to know SOMETHING was hiding beneath those “innocent, adorable eyes” and those “boyish good looks” and his “smooth, youthful cheeks.” (All, of course, are direct observations made by the fae himself.) So perhaps the chance at being gently let down is greater than you’d hoped, but certainly you’re trying to appeal to his more private side, right?

You approach the door, stand frozen in front of it, and slip the envelope with his name beneath the door before hurrying away. Okay, you wrote your confession because you were scared.

Lilia allows you to leave the dimension of his dorm before curiously picking up the letter. You aren’t very good at hiding your tracks, but against fae, most humans aren’t. He smiles at the hearts you’ve drawn on the envelope, carefully peeling off any stickers to keep. What a sweet way of telling him things he already knows.

Oh, he doesn’t mean to be demeaning! You’re simply so cute, it’s hard for him not to coo over every little thing you do! He’s been carefully tiptoeing around the subject for ages, but if you were brave enough to confess to him first…perhaps it’s time for him to truly confront the feelings that have been building ever since he met you. You are strange, and you are reckless, and you are oh so dear to him. It couldn’t hurt to at least see where a relationship would go within the year, right?

(Read: Lilia has some hangups about the difference in your lifespans, but fae aren’t exactly known to be selfless creatures. Lilia doesn’t hoard jewels and gold so much as he does the people he holds close to his heart, so it was really only a matter of time before you found yourself by his side anyway.)

Of course, even if Lilia can read the letter just fine, he has to have some fun with it! The hope and apprehension in your eyes when he meets you next is too enjoyable not to toy with, just a little. So, instead of asking you to dinner, Lilia asks if you need help with your unit on hexes and curses. Confused, you cautiously agree and suddenly, instead of a date, you have a two-person study group. At least he’s not avoiding you completely?

Lilia has you carefully drawing out the symbols in your textbook while he watches with his sharp eyes. You’re almost positive he’s leaning too close to you on purpose, and you’re 100% sure he’s being such a perfectionist just so he can fluster you more. When he purposely puffs a little air on your neck just as you’re finishing this round of symbols, making you jolt and mess up an otherwise perfectly straight line, Lilia clicks his tongue and begins to tell you to start again. You interrupt him.

“You’re being weird again.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” You respond, turning to face him. Ah, right, he never backed away and now your faces were inches apart. Leaning back, you turned your head and huffed. Normally you’d find this endearing, but now you were beginning to feel like a toy. “What’s with this whole studying thing, anyway? I never mentioned having trouble in class. Actually, I’m doing just fine.”

“And yet you accepted my help anyway?” Your face began to heat up. Lilia backed away to give you your space again. “No, I just thought I might help you, since whatever curse you slipped underneath my door was absolutely abysmal.”

“Curse?”

“I’ve gotta say, though, hearts are a strange choice of rune...”

“Oh,” Your face got hotter, and you sighed. “Listen, Lilia, if I overstepped...”

Before you could finish, Lilia leaned in again, one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table. You weren’t caged in at all, but you felt as if leaving would be a big mistake - not that you wanted to, of course. Lilia was smiling, the carefully constructed way someone does when they’re waiting to prove you wrong.

“Don’t say that, little one. It appears I’m the one that overstepped. I only meant to tease you a bit, that’s all. I never meant to imply I wasn’t interested.”

• • • • • • • Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek’s eyes have been on you all day (more than usual). Lilia joyfully proclaims that he has “‘got it bad,’ as the youth are now saying,” but Sebek knows it’s deeper than that. Sebek knows you are planning something.

You and your two friends (which, now that he’s got suspicions, he refuses to admit are also his friends) have been hunched over something, whispering conspiratorially and laughing all day. What’s more is that the Young Master has been hanging around you at night more and more frequently. Dots are connecting in Sebek’s head, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Before he can best decide how to confront you, you leave with your little entourage. But what’s this? Upon closer inspection, Sebek realizes you’ve left behind a piece of paper. He scans it closely, once, twice, then realizes…

YOU’RE PLOTTING AGAINST THE YOUNG MASTER AND WRITING YOUR PLANS IN A SECRET CODE?!?!

Sebek is beside himself with grief, fury, and shock at your audacity. At your betrayal!! How could a human such as yourself - weak and simple-minded and kind and attractive and determined - stoop to such lows?! This isn’t right! It keeps him awake at night, and he decides the next morning that he must confront you before you do something you cannot undo.

You hear loud, aggressive banging on your door far earlier than Ace and Deuce ever arrive at your dorm. Excitedly sending the two a text saying Sebek is right on time, you jump down the stairs and try not to be too excited. After straightening yourself out one final time, you take a deep breath and open the door.

...Only to see a very frantic Sebek?

“HUMAN.” His voice is loud as always, but it almost sounds more tense than usual. You’re thankful Grim is the only other one in the dorm who sleeps, otherwise you’d have some very angry roommates right about now. “What is it that you’re planning?!”

“What am I planning?” You repeated. This was not how you were hoping this conversation would go.

“Don’t act like I haven’t seen you and the others plotting in the shadowed corners of the school!” From his pocket, Sebek presents your letter and waves it in front of your face. “I know this is a secret code, and I know you’ve got something nefarious up your sleeves!”

“What? I don’t-” You grab his wrist to stop his waving, only to look past the paper and see him so worked up, he’s got tears in his eyes.

“If you denounce all your evil plans to me right now, I’ll let you off with a warning! As a future knight of the young master, I really shouldn’t be making such deals, but-” And he cuts himself off, like the emotion is too much for him to handle. It’s almost sweet, how he offers up his integrity just to keep you afloat. Or maybe he’s finally accepted that Malleus actually likes you and would miss you if Sebek were to chase you away. It was hard to tell.

What wasn’t hard to tell was how distressed Sebek is, so you took the paper out of his hands and look at it. Deuce did warn you that your handwriting was rather messy. It would make sense that he couldn’t read it. How he got this idea in his head, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to watch him suffer for much longer.

“You figured me out, Sebek,” You responded sadly. Sebek looked absolutely scandalized. “I wanted to leave the young master vulnerable, so I was trying to take out the rising star that would one day defend him.”

“And how did you plan to do that?” Sebek scowled at you. You heaved a dramatic sigh.

“...You. I was trying to take you out.” For the effect, you paused for a moment before continuing. “On a date, actually. This isn’t a plan written in code, it’s a love letter.”

Sebek stared at you before clearing his throat. “OH.”

It was going to take a while to sink in and even longer to convince him, you could tell. You ushered him to your couch before he could faint.

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nicolesainz · 3 months

Text

Down Under Lover (DR3)

Daniel Ricciardo x f!reader

Author's note: The plot is focused on a dream I had, it may be very small but so was my dream so life is unfair. I haven't written about Danny in ages so I had to appreciate my aussie bf

Summary: When Daniel falls in love, shyness but also thrill runs into his veins. He is scared of admitting his feelings but will also try everything to be around her. Everyone is encouraging him to confess although for that to happen, he needs a bit of a booster.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, making out, slight swearing

The moment I enter the club, a wave of nervousness rushes over me as I see him present in the room, talking to his friends, laughing with a massive smile plastered on his face. I am so glad he decided to come to the party.

When I found out that my friend had invited both him and my ex, who happens to be a very close friend of his, I was startled. At first, I didn't want to go, given that if I was in the same room with the both of them, I would spend the entire night silent, fully drunk and worried about what my ex would say.

Luckily, it was his sister's birthday and he wasn't able to show up. Luck was again on my side that night given that once I saw him in the club, I let out a soft sigh of happiness.

"Happy birthday girl" I say to my friend, giving her a tight hug, handing her the presents as I am instantly surrounded by my best friends that were also invited.

"He's here, you better go and say hi, otherwise no alcohol for you." she threatens me in a joking manner. I lay my eyes on him once again and I catch him staring at me. I smile and go towards him.

"Hey you" Daniel greets me first with a small smile on his lips and I quickly soften around his presence.

"Hey, I am glad you decided to come. It was a good choice."

"You were right. Maybe tonight will be fun, who knows?"

Neither of us knew. Until we found out towards the end of the night.

The first few hours run smoothly. Dinner is served and all of us take turns to eat. I was debating on whether I wanted to eat or not, given that every time my ex was around, I would refuse to eat anything and instead drink whatever was available to me. Then of course I would end up with a massive hungover and a headache that felt as if someone was hammering me.

It was very unhealthy to not eat anything. It took me way too long to realise that I was only harming myself whilst he was having fun and completely ignoring me. I joined the circle of my friends and had a good laugh whilst Daniel was with his friends and his laugh was echoing through the entire room, sending a warm feeling to my heart.

Him being happy is also making me happy.

After dinner was over, he came over to my friend group and we were talking about all kinds of stuff. How life had been treating us, how busy we were with our jobs and especially Daniel, having to travel the world with Formula One. All the attention was on him, talking about his experiences the past season and how he was ready to fly back to England for the release of the new Alpha Tauri car but Red Bull's as well for 2024 and get ready for pre-testing season.

What he didn't know, was that out of everyone in the room, I was always keeping an eye on him. Whether that was through my ex or from Formula One. I was the most joyful person on earth when my boss told me that I was assigned to write an article about Daniel's return to F1 after the dispute with Mclaren and him having no seat for the first half of 2023.

I always thought my ex was going to become an F1 driver or pursue a career in motorsports, given he was and is a junkie about cars. Daniel had never crossed my mind. He seemed to know a few things about motorsports but not in the level of actually becoming a driver, a very successful one as well.

There was an unexpected interruption in the conversation with his phone buzzing loudly. The first thing that came to my mind is that Christian may had been calling him, or Max, maybe even Yuki or Lando.

Definitely not the person who was actually calling him.

"Wassup mate, you alright?" As his deep and scratching voice drifted inside my head, I instantly wanted to throw up. I hadn't talked with my ex for about 9 months now and I had truly found the peace I was looking for. Until now that it was erupted.

"Yeah, having fun with everyone and chilling. All the best to your sister by the way. I will bring her a gift next time." The cheerful Daniel wasn't as smiley as he was a few minutes ago.

“Say, is Y/n there with you? Assuming it’s Cath’s birthday, she’s definitely around.” My face instantly dropped and a disgusting feeling took over my stomach.

Why did he care if I was at the party? We haven’t talked for so long? Has he not gotten over me? When he so easily agreed in breaking up?

“Yeah, she’s here. Why?” Daniel’s voice quickly stiffened at his friend’s question, not really wanting to be truthful to him.

“Can I talk to her? She won’t pick up her fucking phone or reply to my texts. Acting like a toddler Jesus Christ.” My ex said followed by a laugh which made Daniel’s blood boil and a few tears shed down my cheeks.

I needed to clear my mind. I was too foolish to realize how much of a bad influence he was and how much he was harming me. I wasn’t in love with him after some time. I was just scared of him.

“Sorry mate not really.” The strong Australian accent with a hint of irony made me giggle through all the crying.

“Why? Already shoving her tongue down someone’s throat? Knew she secretly was a slut.” The moment the slur came out of his mouth, Daniel replied with the most jaw dropping thing a man could say to his best friend.

“At least I can make her cum and feel good. Cheers.” And he instantly hung up. My friends were shocked with his answer and turned to look at me who was full blown red, under the bright colorful lights of the club, eyeing Daniel very intensely.

“Ricciardo saved the day.” Cathrine, the birthday girl said, nudging me playfully, before Daniel grabbed my hand and led us a few meters away from the rest of the group.

Truth be told, I had never held his hand before, hence why I had so many butterflies in my stomach when I felt his touch. And we had been classmates for many years.

Daniel was mumbling his words, trying to find a way to form his sentences. The way he reacted to what my ex said was so questionable but at the same time, gave me hope that he may have slight feelings for me. Very slight.

"I am so sorry for what I said before. I don't know how that came up to be honest." He eventually said, scratching his neck awkwardly and toying with my fingers. Daniel was blushing so hard that he was transferring his nervousness at me as well.

"It's alright. I want to thank you for not handing me the phone. I was in no position to talk to him. Nor will I ever be again." I said shyly, with him probably knowing through his friend why we wouldn't be in contact any time soon.

"I am glad. I mean, not glad, like, uh, I am happy that you don't want to be with him again, wait, not, that sounded wrong. What I mean is.." I started giggling with him stumbling on his words, trying to express himself and clearly failing. I know Daniel has good intentions. He always did.

"I understand Danny, don't worry. You weren't really a fan of us since high school and it took me way too long to realise that you were always right about him."

It was true. Ever since I first got my heart broken by his friend back in high school, he was one of the few, maybe even the first boy, to tell me that I didn't deserve this and instead should avoid him at all cost, because falling in love more would harm me.

I had to date him to actually understand the harm he would do to me. I was always supporting him, knowing he would never hurt me, given the kind boy profile he always had at school. That was mostly why I fell for him. Because I knew he would appreciate my kindness.

And yet he did not.

"I only wanted to protect you. I know how much you loved him and I am sorry I wasn't there to stop him from doing you more bad than good. At least, are you happier now? Now that it's over?"

As if I didn't have enough reason to love Daniel, his protective side over his friends, made me fall in love for him even more. I guess that's what 'kindhearted' means. Not just being shy and not rude to ones feelings.

"Yeah, I very much am. And hope to be even more. Are you happy?"

"I hope I will be, Y/n. I truly hope."

I took him into a soft hug. Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, as I feel his firm hands against my waist. It was a great feeling seeing Daniel again. We got really close when during senior year and I am glad we kept in touch with each other.

Daniel's head was on the crook of my neck, his beard scratching my soft spot which made my entire body tingle. His touch was so pure and yet so electrifying.

"I love you Daniel. I hope you know that." I whispered in his ear without a doubt, tangling my fingers against his bubbly, curly hair, which caused him to sigh happily.

"I really wish you knew that I had been in love with you since day one. I wish you had been mine and not his. I wish I was the one who could've treated you like the way you deserve." My heart stopped beating at the sound of his words.

Loved me since day one?

His and not anyone else's?

I felt disgusted with myself for not having realised sooner. I was the first person he sat next to back in 10th grade. He was the first boy I confessed my feelings for my crush who was his best friend. He helped his best friend express himself at me so we could end up together. He was the first person to tell me that I deserved better in life than my ex, who was not worth of my love.

Daniel was truly worth of my love. All the years I have known him, I have never felt more comfortable around a guy and now that he had finally confessed his love, my heart pooled with admiration, love and desire for this man.

I wish I could have loved his sooner. I wish I was dating Daniel sooner. I wish it was Daniel instead of him. A thousand times more.

"You deserve the love of the world. And I would be more than happy to give it to you." Daniel softy kissed my lips as the words came out of his mouth, that was burning mine with so much passion.

Kissing Daniel took me back to senior year when I had developed a massive crush on him after I got heartbroken the first time. There were so many instances that I wanted to tell him how I felt and yet I chickened out every time. But now, it was the perfect time.

"Only if you let me love you unconditionally, Daniel. It goes both ways." His smile took over the anger that had taken over his headspace a few minutes ago.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo #formula 1

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labellefleur-sauvage · 11 months

Text

I Need a Big Boy

Nesta had been a fan of her city’s rugby team, The Velaris Fighters, for years, all because of one man: Cassian Smith, the team’s captain.

Tonight, she was finally going to show Cassian why she was his biggest fan.

A very short and smutty Nessian fic. Inspired by a few influential tiktoks featuring some very handsome and big rugby men in short shorts and tight jerseys that instantly made me think that Cassian would be an excellent rugby player. No other plot, just sexy vibes.

Word Count: 2600

Rating: E

Read on AO3

XXX

“Yes! Just like that! Just a little bit more, just like that - yes!”

Nesta threw her arms in the air and cheered along with the thousands of other people in the crowd as the Velaris Fighters scored five final points before the sirens that signaled the end of the game blasted through the air. Besides her, her friend Gwyn threw her arms around her neck in a hug, while their other friend Emerie blew into a bright blue plastic stadium horn.

“What a game!” Gwyn exclaimed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “I thought for sure they wouldn’t be able to come back!”

“That was the best scrum of the season. How Rhys managed to hook the ball after the other team nearly had it -“

“And then Azriel managing to grab the ball when Rhys got tackled -“

“But we all know who was really responsible for their comeback win,” Emerie said with a wiggle of her eyebrows, eyeing Nesta.

Nesta only hummed, too distracted by watching the man of the hour: Cassian Smith, front row prop and team captain of the Velaris Fighters. He had gone through two shirts over the course of the game to her delight, and had abandoned his latest shirt, choosing to go topless while he gave a media interview on the field.

She sighed wistfully, watching the overhead lights dance across his golden brown skin. This man was the only reason she got into rugby several years ago, when she saw an ad at a bus stop for the local rugby team with Cassian front and center.

Luckily she found rugby genuinely interesting, and enjoyed going to the games. Even better, she got to ogle the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Cassian was a tall brick house of a man, nearly 6’5” of pure muscle. His upper body - shoulders, arms, back, even his neck - was a mess of highly developed muscles. Each rippling ab was defined, and his thighs were thicker than tree trunks. Most of his glorious body was covered in dark, swirling tattoos that contrasted against his golden brown skin. His shoulder length wavy hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and Nesta watched, enraptured, as he slowly took the ponytail out of his hair and raked his fingers through his sweaty locks.

She licked her lips. It felt like a personal show, just for her. If all went according to plan, then she’d be putting on a show for him soon.

“Come on, let’s go.” Gwyn bumped Nesta out of her daydream. Shaking herself, she gathered her bag and followed her friends out of the stands, joining the throng of people waiting to exit the stadium.

“You still going to go to the player’s entrance and try to get an autograph?” asked Gwyn.

“She’s going to try to get a lot more than that,” quipped Emerie.

“Be safe!” Gwyn said. “Let us know if you need a ride home or anything! Keep us updated -“

“She’s not going to have time to give us play by play updates when she’s getting railed -“

“OK, bye!” Nesta called, turning away from her laughing friends to walk towards the side player entrance where the players entered and exited the stadium. A small crowd had already assembled outside the doors, people anxiously waiting for a chance to see their favorite players.

Nesta forced her way up to the front railing separating the crowd from the door. She didn’t have to wait long - soon, players from both teams began filling out, some stopping to sign autographs. Craning her neck and standing on her tiptoes, Nesta kept her eyes trained on the door, hoping she didn’t miss him.

Finally, the door swung open and Cassian emerged. He was even more beautiful up close: his hair was damp around his face, his form fitting t-shirt clung to his body and the fading sunlight highlighted his rugged face.

Nesta lost her breath as she watched Cassian briefly look around the crowd before his eyes met hers. He looked her up and down, head to toe, before sauntering over.

“That’s a great shirt you have on. Did it come pre-ripped like that?”

Nesta grinned. She was wearing a replica of one of his jerseys, with several rips along the shoulders and sides to mimic how his uniform often looked after a particularly rough game. She had also cut a deep V-neck into the shirt to show off her impressive cleavage.

“No, I had to cut it myself. Wanted it to look more like the real thing.”

Cassian gave her a one sided grin. “Like the rest of my jerseys, it would look better shredded on the ground.”

Nesta snorted, dragging her eyes down his toned chest and lingering on the junction on his thick jean covered thighs. She lazily brought her gaze back to Cassian’s face, noting the slight blush grazing his cheeks.

“This shirt has a lot of sentimental value to me, so I don’t think I’d be willing to risk having it destroyed. I think I’ll keep this one… unless you can give me something special in return.”

She could have sworn she saw him shudder. “I can think of a few things I could give you,” he said huskily. “How about you come back to the team locker room with me? I can give you a personalized jersey, a private tour of the facilities…”

“That’s so generous of you,” Nesta purred. “I think I’d be more interested in a private tour of you , though.”

Cassian cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can take that? Most people can’t quite handle… all of me, like that.”

Nesta stared up at him and licked her lips. “How about we go somewhere private and I can prove to you that I’m more than capable of handling a big boy like yourself?” she shot back.

He smiled. “That can be arranged. Come on.” He single-handedly moved the heavy metal barrier out of the way, letting Nesta slip through. “My friend and I are going to the locker rooms,” he told the security guard at the door. The man nodded lazily, letting them back inside the building.

He quickly led them to the back of the stadium and into a large locker room. It was much nicer than Nesta expected - each player had their own personalized locker lined around the room, with a wide, wooden sitting bench in front of each cubby.

Cassian spun her out of her observations and took her face in his hands for a claiming kiss. Nesta sighed as his tongue swept inside her mouth. He broke away from her suddenly, a cocky grin on his face.

“How long were you waiting outside?” Cassian asked, sitting down in front of his locker and spreading his legs.

“Not long,” Nesta shrugged, her lips still tingling from his intense kiss. “I’m your biggest fan, so I was willing to wait a while for you.”

He smirked. “My biggest fan, huh? What else are you willing to do for me?”

Nesta hummed, then went to her knees between his spread thighs. “If you take your pants off I can show you.”

Cassian grinned, standing up to his full height so he towered above her. “I’ve already worked so hard today - how about you put in a little work and show me how much my biggest fan truly appreciates me.”

Grinning, Nesta reached up and undid the button of his jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down. A considerable bulge had already formed between his thighs, and it only grew larger as her deft hands dragged Cassian’s skin tight pants down his legs. She took her time undressing him, letting her hands wander over the hard muscles in his quads and hamstrings and calves. He kicked his pants away when they bunched around his ankles.

“My, my,” Nesta murmured appreciatively, staring at the outline of his cock straining against his underwear. “What a big cock you have. I can’t wait to see it dripping for me.” She pressed a series of delicate kisses along his clothed cock, kissing up his shaft. Cassian’s abs and legs tensed in anticipation as Nesta’s mouth drew nearer and nearer to his tip.

“I can’t wait to see it stuffed down your throat,” he gritted, tearing off his shirt and tossing it by his discarded jeans. “You’ll do that for me, right? Take my fat cock down your throat? Prove to me that you really are my biggest fan?”

“Anything,” Nesta said, lightly sucking the fat head of him through his underwear. She tasted a bit of his salty precome and had to close her eyes as her desire nearly toppled her, Cassian’s deep groan reverberating through her entire body. Her center throbbed and Nesta felt wetness gathering in her underwear.

She was tired of teasing him. Yanking down his underwear, Nesta lightly pushed Cassian back so he sat down heavily on the wooden bench in front of his locker and spread his legs. She groaned. His cock was long and thick and heavy, leaning towards his stomach. Nesta took him in her small hand and gave him a few pumps.

“You did such a good job today,” Nesta said. “Let me show you what you deserve.” She dragged the flat of her tongue up from the base of his cock to his tip, then took his head into her mouth and sucked.

Cassian groaned as Nesta bobbed her head over his dick. A thrill went through her. She was really doing this. She had flirted and teased the most handsome man she had ever seen, whom she’d been lusting over for ages, and now she was sucking his cock with more determination than anything she’d ever done in her life. Nesta had reduced one of the strongest men she’d ever seen to his knees with a few licks of her tongue, and she’d never felt stronger in her life.

Her hand stroked what she couldn’t fit in her mouth - his was the largest cock she’d ever sucked, and she briefly wondered if she would have to eat her earlier words of proving she could handle someone as large as him. Nesta took half of his length in her mouth and sucked hard.

“Fuck Nesta, you’re so fucking good at this.” A large hand pressed against the back of her head, forcing her down on his cock. “Just like that, I know you can take all of me.”

Eyes watering, Nesta relaxed her throat as much as she could as Cassian gently pressed her head down until her nose met the wiry curls between his legs. Breathing through her nose, she looked up at Cassian.

“You’re so fucking pretty right now,” he moaned, watching her struggle to keep his length within her throat. “Didn’t think seeing you cry while you take my cock would be so hot but fuck, it is.”

Nesta’s pussy throbbed at the praise. A few tears gathered in her eyelashes and she blinked up at Cassian, begging him for anything: to let her move her head, to continue praising her, to touch her, anything.

He seemed to understand how desperate she was. Guiding her off his length, Cassian pulled Nesta up and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue tangling with hers, Nesta relaxed in his arms and against his body. His big hands made quick work of her underwear and jean shorts before he trailed his fingers longingly over the rips and tears of her shirt.

“I really want to tear this off you - it’s already ripped, it’d take so little for me to destroy it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Nesta snapped. “I told you, this shirt is special to me!”

“I can get you a dozen just like it.”

“Are you going to argue with me about a shirt or are you going to fuck me?”

Cassian shrugged. “Have it your way.” Bending down, he grabbed Nesta under her ass and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the wall so her back was against the surface.

Nesta gasped. It was hot, his casual display of strength. She felt the tip of his cock brush her soaking folds and she shifted her hips, trying to bring him even closer to her.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Cassian hissed. “Did sucking my cock make you this wet?”

“And watching you play,” Nesta admitted, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

“You poor thing,” he crooned, shifting his arms so Nesta’s legs settled in the crook of his elbows, “you’re been a desperate, wet mess for hours, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Nesta gasped. “I’ve been so desperate for you! Please, fuck me!”

“So needy you’ll let me fuck your pussy raw, hm?” Cassian mumbled, leaning down to kiss her as he pushed his length into her tight cunt.

Nesta sighed, gripping Cassian’s huge biceps as he worked himself into her. She slumped down a bit against the wall, securely held by Cassian’s hands under her ass and his arms supporting her legs.

“How lucky I am, for my biggest fan to have the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt,” he said, withdrawing then pushing back into her. “Like you were made for me.”

She smirked at him. “Told you I could take it.”

Leaning her head against the wall, Nesta lost herself with the feel of Cassian’s big, strong body around her and his thick cock pistoning within her. He hit places she’d never felt before, and she knew she’d never be able to take anything except his glorious length.

The only sounds filling the locker room were their moans and the wet slap of his cock slamming into her pussy. Nesta felt herself getting even wetter the rougher he got. Reaching down, she furiously circled her clit.

“You feel so good,” Nesta gasped. “So perfect.”

“And you’re such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this,” Cassian groaned.

Nesta looked up at him with wide eyes. “Since I’m your biggest fan, I’ll let you come in me. Just for you.”

Cassian cursed. “You want me to come in you?”

“Yeah, want you to fill me up.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he moaned, thrusting so hard and deep inside her Nesta knew she’d be sore later. It was wonderful and everything she’d ever wanted.

“Cass, yes, right there!” She gave her clit one final brutal rub and she was coming, quaking in Cassian’s strong arms as he chased his own release.

“Fuck Nes,” Cassian groaned, emptying himself within her tight cunt. He gave her a few more weak thrusts before he stopped, resting his head in the hollow of her throat. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, he withdrew his cock from her body.

“I was worried you were actually going to destroy my shirt, you big oaf,” Nesta said as Cassian carefully set her down on shaky legs.

“I’d never destroy the first jersey I ever gave you,” he replied, gathering their clothes. “I know how much you love that thing.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Nesta said, leaning up to kiss him.

“I love you too. I don’t want to kink shame you, but when you asked me to roleplay with you as my biggest fan for some dirty locker room sex -“

“Oh, don’t say you weren’t into it right away!”

“I just thought it was a bit weird, considering my girlfriend should already be my biggest fan. Do you know the logistics I had to figure out to make sure we’d have the locker room to ourselves?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “This just means you have a pretty big leeway for what you want the next time we roleplay.”

“Oh I’ve already decided what I want. Maybe some sweaty post-workout sex, with leathers and chains, stuff like that.”

Nesta grinned. “I can’t wait.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar #my fics #my fic #rugby!cassian #rugby au #cassian is big and hot #and nesta is into it #who can blame her #a court of thorns and roses

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aspoonofsugar · 1 year

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you wrote such a beautiful rwby analysis but unfortunately I think you put more thought into the plot than the entire writers room

Hi!

Thank you, I am happy you found my analysis beautiful!

That said, I am sorry, but I disagree with your statement. It is fine if you dislike the series and even if you criticize it, but as for me, I think the writing is rather strong.

Here are some thoughts, which aren't really directed at you, but rather are born by me seeing a tendency going around where it is somehow "cool" to outloud state RWBY is badly written. I even saw people like... "apologizing" because they enjoy the series. Newsflash...RWBY is good.

RWBY is a series with a writing that goes from decent to very good depending on the moment. I would give it from 7 to 8.5 or even 9 in some scenes. More importantly, it is a story the writers are clearly enjoying writing, as for now. This is why I like watching it. It is genuine, upfront in what it wants to say and it takes risks. Ironically, a series with limited resources shows much more freedom in execution than many other stories, which are economically backed up.

I would also add people keep talking about good writing, but never really elaborate on it... And like, trust me, I do think there is good writing and bad writing. The problem is that people just take examples of "well written series" and decide a series written differently must be bad. This isn't really the case.

First of all, let's focus only on a specific type of story, which is the kind most modern movies, books and series are. This type of story is built on 3 (4) factors:

Plot

Characters

Themes

(Worldbuilding)

I would say the first 3 are more important usually, but there are some stories where the worldbuilding is so strong it becomes its own selling point.

Now, a good story is usually strong in all these departments. The perfect story is top notch in all 3 (4). That is because a good plot usually lets you develop the characters better, which in turns helps exploring the theme.

However, here comes the amazing truth... even the most incredible stories. Even the masterpieces loved by everybody... even them... end up choosing only 1 or 2 of these aspects and sacrifice a little bit of the 3rd (and 4th) one.

Naoki Urasawa's Monster? Its focus is themes. He chooses to go all out on this department, which is why the story is so powerful and resonates so much with people. Still, to do so, he chooses to sacrifice some parts of the plot to the point... some mysteries are not really solved. Some people may be annoyed by it, but I would not call it a flaw. It is a choice. Leaving some things open enriches the themes.

Death Note? If the story has to choose between characters, themes and plot, it goes for plot. This is why despite having so many well liked characters, it is difficult to think of outstanding character arcs in it. The same goes for the themes, which are only touched superficially. This is why btw Death Note is not a fave of mine, really.

Now obviously, many examples can be done and we could discuss forever on some because there is always always always a subjective component. What I am trying to say is... there are different ways to write a story. Not all people would like the same. Luckily, we have tons of stories.

Back to RWBY. I would say RWBY shines when it comes to themes. Characters and plot are good and interesting, but what keeps the story together, despite it playing so much with genre is that it has a very strong thematic core. You can't invent it or fake it btw. See, Death Note's author tries to do it in later works (Platinum End cough cough), but fails. At the same time, there is another department RWBY is top notch and that is symbolism. RWBY has a very rich symbolic system. Again... surely there are coincidences, but like this is a little bit too much...imho.

Now, does it mean, the writers came up with all the patterns I and others find? Probably not, but here is the thing... writing has an unconscious component. If you go earnestly at it, you are bound to unconsciously create patterns. A good writer is able to recognize them (either consciously or unconciously) and to capitalize on them. So far, I think CRWBY has capitalized on the patterns they created. I also think it is clear they are very good at researching and at playing with different sources by going deep into them. Again, you can't come up with the Ever After if you have not read and even studied Alice in Wonderland. It is just impossible. You would end up with a shallow and uninteresting copy cat. The Ever After isn't that because it is used to explore themes, characters and lore in an interesting way. Hence... ladies and gentlemen... it is a fruit of... good writing.

But really, since people are not commenting on it... I would like to point out that in 5 episodes of less than 20 minutes, they have managed to introduce a whole world, with its own lore, set of characters and main story (Alyx's) and to tie it to the protagonists' predicament in a way that hits really hard thematically and psychologically... To do that you need exceptionally thight writing... it is not that simple to do...

Anyway, have a nice day anon and consider watching something else. Thanks God the world is full of stories!

#rwby #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #btw obviously the story can still go downhill #this is possible for all stories #but so far i trust the writers #if that changes i'll let you know #i will add that messing up a story doesn't mean some parts of it aren't well written #see tokyo ghoul has still some of my favourite moments ever #but i still think it went downhill

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 1 year

Text

Songbird

Papa Emeritus III (Terzo) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, Dom!Terzo, jealousy, facefucking, hair pulling, tiny tiny bit of angst at the end

No real plot, Terzo walks in on Reader singing one of Secondo's songs and he must remind her who she belongs to.

Word Count: 2.0k

Terzo strolls back to his chambers, sneaking away early from a meeting; surely, you weren't there anymore, but a man could hope. You were becoming more than the usual plaything in his eyes. Maybe he would just be forced to summon you out of whatever task you were in the middle of...

His scheming comes to a halt when he presses his ear to the door, listening to the beautiful lilt of your voice.

"...progeny of beast of woe 🎶

And I am the son who comes into the daughters of men 🎵

Destroying all and make them want it again..."

Without a sound, he sneaks in and spots you dusting some of his things on the fireplace mantle. He quickly glues himself to you with hands on your hips and a kiss to the nape of your neck.

"AH!!" The duster you'd had in your hand falls to the floor; luckily it hadn't been one of his pictures or a vase. "Terzo! You scared me..." your protest isn't very strong as you melt back into the feeling of him; his cologne quiet strong today.

"What have I told you about cleaning, gattina?" he mumbles into your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly with his fingertips digging into you a little bit.

"Well... I know it's not my job, but I feel like I should leave your place better than I found it," you explain.

"Sì, and you always do. You put your Papa in an exceptional mood every time you visit," he compliments you.

It's absolutely intoxicating getting showered in affection by this man. His hands know just where to touch to get the reaction he wants from you. His lips press the softest kisses to your temple, your cheek, your neck, turning you to putty in his hands. And again... the cologne. You can always tell when he's nearby, and it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter madly.

Softly Terzo asks, "So you like mio fratello's songs more than mine? You don't like my album, sì?"

"Hmm?" you're pulled from your trance, "No, Terzo, that song was just stuck in my head!"

"Mio fratello was stuck in your head?"

"No-"

"That simply won't do, Sorella," he clicks his tongue at you, "we will have to change this. I should be the only Papa in your pretty little head..." He spins you around to face him, putting his hands firmly on your hips again, "I'll make my songbird sing for me and me alone."

It was a promise that sent heat straight to your core as his scowling eyes bore into you. Biting your lip as you stare up at him, you fight back a whimper at the way his demeanor has affected you.

"Not so noisy, now, eh, little songbird?" He brushes his gloved knuckles across your soft cheek. "However fair and pure... 🎶 You crave the wand," he sings before his lips tug into a devious grin.

"Papa," you whisper, leaning your head back to kiss him.

"Ah, ah, ah..." he stops you with a thumb pressed tight against your bottom lip. "We'll have to put that mouth of yours to good use before I should even think of forgiving you."

With that, your knees find the floor and your gentle hands caress his thighs through his nice black dress pants.

"Mmm... So eager to please, so responsive to her Papa..." Terzo lifts your chin to look up at him as he unbuttons his trousers.

Nuzzling against the fabric at his crotch, you beat him to the zipper, pulling it down with your teeth. He lets out a groan of anticipation at that move, his cock, already heavy with lust, falling from behind the cloth. Eager to please, just as he said, you don't keep him waiting as you leave a slow trail of open mouthed kisses from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip.

Lapping at the slit, you look up at him, already losing his composure as he takes off his gloves to tangle those digits in your hair. He lets out another groan, sounding more like a growl as you take his length in your mouth, working at a relaxed pace, but making sure to flatten your tongue against the underside just the way he likes.

"S-sì, ...sss much better use of your mouth than- than for singing Secondo's s-songs," he stutters out, eyes screwed shut. Terzo would never admit it, but he's capable of being turned into putty in the palm of someone's hand too.

When you hollow out your cheeks, putting that exquisite pressure around his favorite appendage, he can't help but buck his hips, lunging forward to brace himself with one hand against the mantle behind you. Relaxing your throat to prepare for the onslaught, you take it well when he bucks again, one hand still firmly planted in your hair to keep you in place.

It takes some effort not to gag the first couple of times he hits the back of your throat, but you dig your nails into his thighs and let him have his way with you. When your nose tickles against his well groomed pelvis, your lover lets out a loud, "Ah! Sorella... Satanas, la mia dea lasciva..." as he continues to fuck into your face.

Letting out something like a whine around his length, Terzo recognizes your need for him, and he did promise to make you sing after all...

Albeit reluctant to pull out of your sinfully skilled mouth, he does, and he immediately pulls you up from your spot on the floor, helping you right yourself and swiping the tears from your cheeks. "You are okay, bella mia?" He's such a gentleman to check on you.

Your heart swells a little as you place your hand over his that cups your cheek; you give a small nod and he gives you a quick peck before it's back on again. With some force, he pulls you across the living room, sitting you on the arm of the chair he likes to read in. Gripping the skirt of your habit, he pulls it up and over your head, revealing nothing underneath.

"Mmm, Sorella..." He looks you over like a meal he's about to devour, as he kicks off his own pants and works on the buttons of his shirt. "You should dress like this always," he gives you a wink.

Letting out a giggle, you softly reply, "I didn't have any clean undies here."

"We'll have to change that," he smiles warmly, disposing of the last articles of his outfit, "although you won't need them when I'm around." His hands slip into place on your sides, and it feels electric feeling his skin on yours. Almost carefully, he kisses you, tasting traces of himself on your tongue. He moves so delicately, ghosting over your breasts, pinching at your nipples, it drives you crazy.

You're well aware of what he's capable of and you want more. Hooking a leg around his, you try to pull him closer to you, and he obliges, but not without breaking your kiss. Desperately, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingertips tracing over the lovebites left from the night before. "Please, Papa," you beg.

He chuckles darkly and places a hand on the top of your thigh. "I'm not quite sure you've learned your lesson, mia cattiva ragazza..." That hand moves to find your core, one finger starting to circle your bud. "You're not still thinking of Papa Secondo, are you, cara mia?"

"No, Papa. I wasn't- hnghhh..." you breathe out, "I promise, I wasn't thinking of anyone but you!"

"Then why would you sing for him," he slips two fingers past your folds up into your sweet spot, "and not for me?"

Letting out a gasp, you grip onto his shoulders as he curls his digits over and over again. "I-I wasn't, Papa... Please..."

"Ahhh, but you were-"

"Papa," you say with some urgency, "Terzo, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. Make me sing- Make me 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 for you, just- please."

He straightens up, fingers slipping out of you. "Only for me, sì?" he asks, popping the slicked up fingers into his mouth.

"Only you, Papa," you look up at him, both sets of eyes equally blown wide with lust, and you practically shaking with need.

"Show me, then, my songbird," he commands, pulling you up off the chair and flipping you around; in an instant, he's behind you, propping your knee up on the arm of the chair and slicking himself up in your folds. Instinctively, you arch your back and brace your hands on the back of the piece of furniture.

He enters you more gingerly than he'd been with your face, but it still leaves you whining and squirming back on him for more. Receiving a small pop on the ass, you let out a squeak, before Terzo grabs your hips and sets a leisurely pace. "Mm, mm- Papa," you moan for him, feeling that delightful stretch.

"Ah, tesoro, sì, sing for me," a smile spreads across Terzo's face as he throws his head back, fucking into you in earnest, "Let everyone know how good your Papa feels inside you!"

Feeling cheeky, and perhaps a glutton for punishment, you throw a look over your shoulder at the antipope, "Give me something to sing about then, Papa."

Terzo's usual scowl returns to his face, this time with a fire in his eyes. You're met with a harsh 𝘚𝘔𝘈𝘊𝘒! to the ass followed by the sound of skin slapping skin as he moves harder in and out of you. His fingers wrap around your hair, ponytailing it and wrapping it around his wrist. With a rough tug, he forces you upright until your head nearly rests on his shoulder. "Bold of you to test your Papa while il mio cazzo stuffs your tight cunt full," he growls in your ear. With the change in angle, he rams into your sweet spot with ease, hips snapping at a dangerous tempo.

You try to stifle the high-pitched whine that threatens to spill from you, but your lover takes you by the jaw, forcing your mouth open and stealing your noises of pleasure from you. And he gets exactly what he wants as your moans pour out of you, sounding more and more like screams with every thrust.

As his hand slides down the front of your stomach to find your core, he whispers softly in your ear, a sharp contrast to your loud cries, "Sì, sì, little songbird, you always give your Papa what he wants, even if I must take it from you." His hips stutter as his middle finger starts to circle your clit. "Give your Papa just a little bit more, amore... Vieni per me, per favore. Vieni per me..."

And who are you to deny him? A few more flicks of his wrist and you're howling his name so loud that you just 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 your lover is grinning at the thought of his brother hearing you in the next suite.

Riding you through your orgasm, he chases his own release; he'd staved himself off just to hear how helpless you could become by his hand. You gave yourself over to him like no other ever had, and it makes him want to do the same to you. Terzo presses his body firmly to yours, hips slowing to shallow thrusts as he spills within you. Eyes shut tight, he nuzzles into your shoulder, biting down and grunting through the climax.

Once out of the haze of pleasure, attentively, he checks on you, making sure he hadn't been too rough, too domineering, too careless with your precious body.

"I don't think you're capable of being careless with your lover, Terzo," you giggle, now sitting on his lap in the chair he'd just fucked you against.

"Sì, but one can never be too sure, vero?" He cups your cheek, giving you a soft peck on the opposite side.

"Dolce ragazzo, I never feel more taken care of than when I'm in your arms," you press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

While your aftercare came in the form of shoulder rubs and kisses, his comes in the form of reminding him that he isn't the monster he sees himself as. Yet another type of song he longed to hear from you, always.

#short and sweet #... and spicy #enjoy 😘#come get y'all juice #the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #terzo #papa 3 #papa emeritus 3 #papa terzo #fanfic #drabble #imagine #oneshot #shitghosting

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acefaun · 1 month

Text

Kaeya~ The Curse

Synopsis: God!MC brings back a container of cleansing water from the pool they came across on their adventure with Dainsleif in the Chasm. They hoped to give it to Kaeya… But it seems as though they were a little too late to help. Hopefully they can make up for lost time.

⚔️Masterlist⚔️ Gender-neutral, God MC! ~Spoilers for Chasm Interlude Archon Quest after Liyue A/n: Popping into the Genshin fandom with a self-indulgent serving of my favorite Ragbros! 💕 I read a few fanfics about how Kaeya might have had a similar reaction to Dainsleif during the Archon Quest, so I decided to add my own bit to it with a little bit of the SAGAU aspect of MC being their ‘god’.

–Word Count: 2,800–

I had been gone from Mondstadt for too long, I mused as I took in the fresh air around me. Being in the Chasm for weeks on end made me cherish the feeling of the open air in Mondstadt. The free wind was so much less stifling than suppressive rocks.

Still, however grateful I was, one person remained on my mind on my trip home. The cool container that rested within a pouch against my leg reminded me that my mission wasn't over. On my recent adventure into the Chasm with Dainsleif, we found the ruins of an ancient civilization that the Abyss was using for another of their schemes. Their goal was to bring Khaenri’ah back, but we put a stop to their nefarious plot.

While it would have been nice to see the ancient citizens of Khaenri’ah freed from their curse, it would have caused much more suffering and loss than done any actual good. There wasn't a chance that their plans would meet with surefire success, after all. In fact, I—along with Dainsleif—was certain their plan would fail spectacularly. I had Khaenrian friends to protect, and I would never take a chance playing with their lives.

My fingers brushed against the cork of the bottle I carried. I wasn't that powerful, but even I could feel something comforting from the bottle. I couldn't imagine the discomfort and suffering that those cursed had to go through without a hint of relief. By having this water nearby, I hoped that Kaeya might feel some reprieve.

Kaeya never divulged anything about himself to me, out of fear that I was the god from Celestia that sent his nation to ruin. So, I wasn’t entirely sure how Kaeya’s lineage really affected him, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry. Fortunately, each adventure I went on seemed to lead me to more answers that he probably didn't even know himself.

Still, I might have been overthinking things… After all, Kaeya was only a descendant of Khaenri’ah, he wasn’t there when it was destroyed. But that Abyssal scheme was terribly effective—even Dainsleif had to rely on me to resolve the situation. I had to prepare for the worst and hope for the best with Kaeya’s unknown situation.

It was early in the night when I walked through the gates of Mondstadt. Luckily, if all was as well as I hoped, I knew exactly where my friends would be gathered.

I was grateful that, as soon as Dainsleif and I finished our quest, he understood the urgency with which I had to return home and check on my found family.

Opening the door to the Angel’s Share, it was unusually quiet, and my apprehension only grew. My eyebrows furrowed as I noted a few regulars, but there was no bard. There was no exasperated Diluc or rambunctious Kaeya. “Charles,” I asked, walking up to the bar. “What's the lull? Isn't it usually more lively here at night?”

“Your Excellency,” he addressed me formally. “Sorry. You must be looking for Master Diluc. He's visiting Master Jean tonight. You might be able to find him in her office.”

My eyebrows furrowed further. Something was wrong for the alcoholics to be missing and Diluc to be in the Knight's headquarters. I prayed I was jumping to the wrong conclusions… I couldn’t wait for an explanation. “Tell me what happened.”

He let out a brief sigh, his empathetic eyes landing on me. “I heard that Captain Kaeya fell ill. I wish I had more to tell you, but the Knights have been keeping things quiet since. No one really knows what happened yesterday-”

“Yesterday?” Then my suspicions were unfortunately correct. Kaeya was affected by the Abyss’s device, and no one was there with Kaeya to help or understand why he was suffering. Before Charles could give another word, I was flying out of the door. I was thankful the foot traffic was light as I raced up the stairs to get to HQ.

The knights were quick to fling the doors open for me as soon as they recognized my intended path. Nearly crashing into Jean's office door, I flung it open, startling those inside. Jean immediately stood from her chair. “Your Excellency, you're here. There's been a problem-”

“With Kaeya,” I finished for her, my eyes flickering across the faces in the room. There was Jean, Diluc, Barbara, and Amber. They were no doubt all gathered there for the same reasons. But I needed them to cut to the chase. “I heard. Tell me everything.”

Jean gestured for Amber to tell the story from the beginning. Taking her cue without hesitation, Amber walked me through her version of what happened, “I was just returning from my patrol yesterday afternoon when I ran into Captain Kaeya. He looked… bothered; but I didn’t think he was feeling unwell or anything. I was about to ask him about it when he just… Well, I don’t know what really happened. He just looked like he was in so much pain; it was so bad, he looked like he couldn’t breathe and then couldn’t even stand on his feet.”

“We were thrown completely off guard,” Jean commented. Apparently it wasn't the most subtle thing. Many citizens panicked at the sight of the Captain in such agony and went straight to the Knights of Favonius to report the emergency.

Barbara then added anxiously, “We tried our best to help and make it bearable, but nothing we did worked. We spent all night trying everything, well into the morning. Even with my hydro vision, I couldn’t seem to ease his symptoms. Eventually, we had to send for Master Diluc… We thought they might be at odds, but we were sure he might know something to help. I mean, something like that wouldn't just randomly happen, right?”

Of course, she assumed it was some natural affliction. It wasn't poison, and it wasn't something they could heal with their church medicines. They had Kaeya’s situation all wrong, and Diluc didn't seem like he told them a word.

Guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders. I tried to stop the Abyss Order as quickly as I could, but there were too many abyss mages for me to work swiftly and efficiently. Not to mention, Dainsleif was in agony and his friend was dying in front of him. Stopping the Abyss took far too long and drew too much attention to Kaeya. I could only imagine how long of a night it must have been for Kaeya to endure.

But what could Diluc have possibly done to help, anyway? This situation never happened before—and I would be sure it never happened again. None of what happened was precedented. With my gaze flickering to the apparently frustrated red-head, I paused, taking in his appearance. I knew he didn't enjoy working with the Knights of Favonius, but this particular agitation was new. It was time I got his side of the story. “Diluc… What did you-”

“I came to see him as soon as I was informed, and when I got here, they refused to let me in his room,” Diluc hissed, withholding so much wrath that it left me surprised.

Jean sighed, all of them looking awkwardly away from the angered man. She supplied me with an explanation, “At first we thought getting Diluc would be the best response. But… As soon as we had Kaeya inside of headquarters, he started shouting that he was burning. It wasn’t a fever, and he seemed like he wasn’t in his right mind. Knowing vaguely what happened between them, I made the last minute call to keep Diluc out. Your excellency, you have to understand… I did what I thought was best for Kaeya given the circumstances.”

“He could have been dying, and it was ‘for the best’ that I couldn't see him,” Diluc retorted. He didn't need the weak excuses of the Knights of Favonius, he wanted to make sure his brother was okay. He couldn't do that if they restricted him from going as far as the first floor.

“I disapprove of how you made the decision to keep Diluc out after so quickly inviting him to this mess.” I snapped at the group of knights in defense of Diluc. “What happened between them is in the past and had nothing to do with what happened to Kaeya. Diluc,” my steely gaze softened as I met Diluc’s eyes of adoration. Of course, he knew I would understand everything. I would take his side. I offered to him, “Come with me. We're going to go check on Kaeya. I came to help.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t hesitate to follow me out of the quiet room. Everyone else meekly remained where they were for just getting scolded by me. Still, I had trouble waiting for Diluc as I practically rushed to leave Jean’s office.

“Captain! Captain Kaeya, please go back to your room! You're not-” The knight that was chasing Kaeya down the stairs, faltered at seeing me. “You're Excellency! I'm sorry! Captain Kaeya shouldn't have slipped past us! Ah!” The Knight panicked as Kaeya immediately flung his arms around me, his larger frame almost overtaking me. “C- Captain, please, that's their Excellency you just-”

“(Name)!” My eyes widened at hearing Kaeya call my name. Hardly anyone ever used my name. Everyone respected me, feared me, cherished me, adored me. Using my name was disrespectful, something frowned upon. But I loved hearing it from them. I loved when they used my name and not some impersonal title.

“Kaeya,” I replied with his name, in turn, my hands resting on his back.

“It feels nice…” Kaeya muttered, his arms tightened around me, holding me closer. “I felt when you got to Mondstadt. You felt different from usual, but I needed to find you. Please, let me hold you. It doesn't hurt anymore.”

“We're going home, Kaeya,” I hushed, trying to soothe him as best I could. I knew the water I had with me was really what was drawing him to me like this. But for now, I wanted to make up for not being faster. Just like Dainsleif, even Kaeya would need time to recover from the strain his body was put through. “Diluc’s going to take us back to the manor, and we'll take care of you.” Similarly to how his grip tightened around me, I pulled him closer, my fingers sinking into his unkempt hair. “I'm sorry… I'm so sorry.”

He hummed, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more as he basked in the presence of the cleansing water. Though the effects of what happened lingered in his system, he was feeling better just by being with me. He knew I was his god.

Diluc hesitantly pressed closer, despite the eyes of onlookers that were judging us. “If the manor is where you want to go, I suggest we depart. Kaeya, can you walk?”

Kaeya could—he just bounded down the stairs for me—but he'd never make it as far as Dawn Winery. Awkwardly, I mentioned, “I'm agile, but I'm a bit of a limp noodle when it comes to weights. I'm afraid you'll have to carry him, Diluc. He’s been through a lot.” Reaching for the pouch at my side, I untied the strings and held the bag out to Diluc. “You can hold on to this for now. I have one for you when we get home. It'll help him feel better.”

I didn't explain much just yet as Kaeya was carefully lifted, and he relaxed into Diluc’s arms. No one dared to question or stop me as I left with the two brothers accompanying me. I wasn't necessarily leaving because of the way Diluc had been treated. I was leaving purely because of the confidential matter that only involved the three of us.

Taking us to the teleport point, the journey home was short, and we took our time to get relaxed in Kaeya’s room, where he passed out almost immediately. It was the first time he was almost entirely free of pain since the incident.

“If I may ask,” Diluc started slowly, his hands grazing over the pouch you gave him with the concealed bottle inside. “What exactly is this?”

Diluc knew mostly everything about Kaeya—who he was, where he was from, why he was in Mondstadt. He also knew Kaeya as a brother, which was where we were now. He wanted his brother to be okay and as annoying as usual, not bedridden.

As promised, they deserved answers. So, I began my summarized explanation of events, “I went on a mission recently against the Abyss Order. They… tried to revive Khaenri'ah against my warnings of what would happen. They were determined to cleanse the Khaenrians of their curse. However, all that resulted was suffering. Every living soul with that curse was in unbearable agony. It could have been devastating if I hadn’t gotten there in time.” My downcast eyes landed on the gentle rise and fall of Kaeya’s chest. “Even a nation away, he probably thought he was dying. I could only do my best to fix it as quickly as possible—but I wasn't strong enough to take care of them as fast as I wanted to. Who knows how long Kaeya was suffering because of me…”

“But you took care of them,” Diluc reminded me, knowing I would no sooner fall into self-loathing. “You did good against a powerful enemy. You should be proud. Whatever this water is… you managed to bring it here to help him. Don't think what you did wasn't adequate.”

Pursing my lips together, I knew better than to argue. He would only try to make me take it back. Diluc cared much more than he let on. He wouldn't let me shoulder the guilt. So, rather than dwelling on that, I changed the subject back to the pouch. “I forgot, I brought a bottle for you as well. However, I mean to go back and collect more for you to store in the Winery in case of emergencies like that one.” Taking the pouch back, I opened it, pulling out the glass bottle of cleansing water. “This was in an ancient city. Apparently, it acts as a cleansing water, soothing the effects of the curse. It won't cure him, so it does no good to drink it. But having it near will help.”

“Cleansing water,” Diluc repeated, observing the seemingly normal water that I held. It was strange that Kaeya couldn't even tell what he was attracted to when he found me in HQ. From what Diluc could tell, Kaeya could simply sense the water from that far away. “It's fascinating. I'm sure we'll have to keep a greater supply. I… feel like I should ask how you came to know that this water would help him when it looks and feels like normal water to those without the curse.”

“Because that fountain was where the cursed went to meet a peaceful end,” I replied quietly, avoiding mentioning my travel partner. In truth, I probably wouldn’t have suspected what the effects of this water truly were if not for Dainsleif’s explanation. “It seems sad, but this water is truly the only thing that seems to be able to give some respite.”

Diluc hummed, his eyes now searching Kaeya and wondering when his sad end would come. Luckily, he wouldn't have to suffer so much anymore thanks to my efforts. Diluc watched how I delicately traced Kaeya’s still hands, my eyes overflowing with guilt. “You did your best. I wish you'd be kinder to yourself.”

I hummed, but I didn't agree or disagree with him. “I'm not finished with my mission against the Abyss… but… I'm not leaving Kaeya right now. You can stay too. Mondstadt can do without their Darknight Hero for a while. Kaeya needs us more than they do.” Kaeya deserved to be coddled after his horrible experience. I'd do my damned best to ensure it never happened again.

#genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfic

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Hi, may I have something with platonic yandere Toy Freddy with the Yandere Prompts 13, 26 and 59?

I struggled on this so much. I first hated the plot, then found a plot I liked and accidentally deleted my draft. So this was... an experience. Luckily the one I accidentally got rid of was a poor version of this that was badly organized so here's a revised version :)

Note: Tee Hee I had fun with this, made it scary and gorey for once :)

No dead kids, just self-aware robots

Yandere! Platonic! Toy Freddy Prompts 13, 26, 59

"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"

"Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!"

"Are those friends of yours? Are they your everything?"

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession at first sight, Slight stalking, Clingy behavior, Violence, Gore, Murder, Kidnapping/Death implied, Forced companionship, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Blood.

Toy Freddy loves to make friends. Every day the tubby bear animatronic seemed to make a new pal at Freddys. He always had so much fun on the job!

Freddy loves to play games and sing songs with his new friends, too. If anything... the bear just likes to be involved. Playing 'Hide and Seek' while singing songs with Bonnie and Chica to occupy hyper children was one of his favorite tasks.

Although, none of his other friends compared to his BEST friend.

The moment Freddy met you, the new dayshift guard, he knew you and him would be great friends. In fact... Toy Freddy was determined to be YOUR best friend, too! How could you not see him as your friend?

Toy Freddy always watched what you did eagerly. You delivered cake, sang songs with the crew, and all around entertained the kids. Toy Freddy was always around to help, too.

In Freddy's eyes, you were always destined to be best friends. In your eyes, you saw the bot as friendly... but not entirely a friend. You were closer with your coworkers more than anyone.

For the most part, Freddy either didn't notice this or denied it. The overly friendly, to the point it's suffocating, bot just liked your presence. It was unnerving to have the bot so close all the time.

"Hey, kids! Who wants to meet Freddy's best friend?" The bear would always say, optics clicking over to you to greet groups and groups of children. You wished he'd leave you alone at times.... Unfortunately, when the bear wanted attention, he was determined to get it.

He didn't even leave you alone on break, either. You'd take time to eat lunch in the break room and coworkers would report the bear looked frantic. It amused you to think the animatronic had attachment problems.

Until you realized how bad it got.

For the most part, the beloved Toy animatronic was tolerable. He was like a clingy teddy bear. Always around... always eager to please.

Problems truly started to arise when you noticed what looked like Freddy's optics having issues. At times the bear would glitch, blue eyes flickering into a dead black stare before returning to normal. That or his eyes would just stare at people around you blankly.

It didn't usually happen during performances, although it was only ever getting more frequent and creepy. Close friends who worked with you often commented on the malfunctioning eye tracking, saying Freddy stared at them strangely. You called a mechanic for a maintenance check in the future.

They'd come near the end of the week... and you just had to hope Freddy won't break until then.

"Feeling fine, Freddy?" You ask while taking paper dishes off tables. The bear's ears click and he turns his head towards you quickly.

"Of course, best friend!" The animatronic chimes, bounding over to you heavily. "Never better! Why'd you ask? Want anything?"

"I'm getting reports of your glitching..." You comment, placing the trash from the party room you're cleaning in a garbage can.

"Glitching?" Toy Freddy asks, clicking his head to the side. "I feel fine...."

"You're staring at employees. I've heard of your series of bots having a scanner problem... but you never acted up this much." You explain, the bear blinks slowly. His optics flicker yet you're too busy cleaning tables for another party.

"Are those friends of yours?" The bear asks suddenly, causing you to turn towards him. His tone is strangely not as cheery as usual. "Are they your everything?"

"That's a weird way to put it..." You laugh softly, the noise pleasing to the clingy bot. "We're friends. Great people to talk to on the job, y'know?"

"I thought I was great to talk to...." Freddy whines in a sad tone. You pause, thinking about your words.

"You are... but you can't be around all the time, Fred." You smile, the bear's eyes locking onto your face. "We just talk about things outside of work. I can't do that with you."

The bear bot gives you a neutral look. You clear your throat, nervousness clogging it up for a moment. You then pick up your cleaning supplies.

"Freddy, you have kids to see. Come on."

You exit the room and Freddy obediently follows. He was way quieter after the conversation you had. The day was almost over, anyways, you just hoped his AI would fix itself when the kids went home.

---

Tragedy at Freddys was common. It was always in the papers. You just hoped your own time at a location would be... normal.

Talk about wishful thinking.

Yet another accident occurred... and you couldn't help but feel it's all your fault. You knew something was wrong with Toy Freddy yet didn't get him repaired fast enough. A malfunction must've caused all this....

The only good thing about this was it happened when the day ended...

That did nothing to ease your trauma, however.

Only to hear liquid dripping onto the floor, followed by a disturbing stench of blood.

You were cleaning last second and your fellow coworker on duty went down the hall. The bots still wandered, they would be recalled before you left. When you finished your section... you went out into the hall...

You run down the hall only to see Toy Freddy standing still, metal body hunched over. In front of him lay a quivering body bleeding on the floor. On closer inspection... it was a much more grisly sight.

Gorey matter covered the bot's jaw, you had no idea he could bite. The body on the floor is indeed your coworker... with their head crushed and body broken with pooling blood. You freeze, trying to see if Freddy was moving at all.

He looked offline... he wasn't.

"Best friend..." Freddy's voice box trails off, blackish eyes locking on you when he turns his head. "They were going to replace me as your best friend... you didn't need them."

"Freddy. Shut down! They need help-"

"They won't be moving anymore, friend."

"You killed them-"

The usually friendly bot quickly looks angry, twitching aggressively.

"So what if a few people have to die!? It'll only bring us closer!"

"Shut down, Freddy!"

"Best friend... our fun is only just starting! Why should I go to sleep now when you're right... here...!"

The bloodied bear makes a lunge for you, you move out of the way and look for an emergency phone. The bear's voice box glitches, the bot turning around slowly to see you gone.

"You know me so well, best friend!" Freddy giggles.

"Hide and Seek has always been my favorite game...."

---

You hide quietly, awaiting sirens. The cops were called but you weren't even sure what they'd do with Toy Freddy still roaming. Would they even believe you?

They had to... the bot was covered in blood. The franchise couldn't frame you....

Toy Freddy had been patrolling the exits, searching frantically for you. You couldn't tell if he was nervous or excited by the idea of finding you. All you knew was you weren't safe... and you yearned for the police to save you.

"Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!" The bear coos in a sing-song voice. You bite your lip and cower in a party room. Deep down you had a feeling he knew you were somewhere here...

He wasn't planning on letting you waltz out of those doors, even if he needed to find other bots to help.

"Best friend...? I know you're in here! After all, I'd never let you leave...."

You remain silent.

"You said you couldn't talk to me about outside of work? Now you can! I'd listen to everything you say about yourself!" The bear says into the empty halls, giggling.

"We could do so much together... just the two of us! If you'd just let me get closer...."

The blood certainly didn't help.

You hear footsteps step closer to the room you were in. You catch a glimpse of his dull eyes, blue orbs now a midnight black. You've never seen him like this...

"You must be in here..." The bot ponders aloud. You shuffle closer to a table to stay out of sight. Unfortunately... that does not stop the bot from stepping into the room.

"Come on out, best friend... I always win my favorite game...!"

Steps crept closer and closer to you... making you shuffle around the table to stay out of view. You strain your hearing... catching the sound of faint sirens under the heavy sounds of metal. Just a little longer....

The bot must've registered the sound too, his ears twitching.

"No fair, friend!" He cries into the dark room. "You're cheating! You're a cheater! This game is over, come out now!"

You don't move. The sound of sirens progresses until they're in the parking lot. You catch sight of lights... and Toy Freddy loops around your table.

"There you are, best friend...." Toy Freddy croons, stepping closer. You shuffle backwards, shaking your head.

"Game over... right?"

You hear the sound of a door being kicked in... you also see Toy Freddy back you up against a wall.

After that... everything's black.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf 2 #yandere toy freddy #platonic yandere

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revelca · 1 year

Text

aggretsuko s5 was the best and the worst at the same time, and here's why.

so, the last season of aggretsuko is here, huh. it's one of my favorite shows ever and i just really want to discuss all that happened in s5 with someone. it's totally okay if you disagree with some of the stuff below, i'd love to hear your views and opinions!

so, obviously, it wasn't perfect. it was fun, but it had some issues. luckily it was better than s4 and had some really good moments, but the 2nd half of the season was a big misunderstanding. i decided to make a list out of all the stuff that bothers me:

retsuko literally got forced into politics. saying she's a people pleaser is not enough to justify it. i'm not saying "you can't do politics in aggretsuko", i'm saying that it would be better if she went "maybe i can make lives of regular office workers like me better?". and what was the politics arc for, anyway? there was no point but if you have to do it then just don't force her into that? give her a reason that would make her go "maybe it's not that bad of an idea".

why were retsuko and haida always going to a grocery store that was far away? plot hole! you see, after the stalker incident in s3 retsuko moved and i remember haida literally saying something along the lines of "the shop below keeps it safe and light at night". in additon, the building retsy lives in was shown several times and there really is a shop below her house.

remember when retsuko dreamed of being a lil blushy bride with a big smile in a beautiful dress all the way back in season 1? it was important for her, it was her dream. and in the end, haida and retsy just went with the civil marriage thing and? why?? honestly, why...

one of the biggest issues is obviously the fact that we didn't get enough about retsuko's and haida's relationship. since when were they even together?? i might've missed this part, but my point still stands - we really didn't enough about them. 5 seasons of waiting and this is what we get?? i just didn't get the feeling that haida and retsuko are actually happy and in love with each other, so them getting married so suddenly was a big suprise to me. and it's not like there weren't any opportunities for them to show affection to one another! i'm not saying they should act lovey dovey all of the time, but take for example retsuko's visit in haida's house. when they went out for a walk to the garden, he could say something like "i know it's hard, but deal with them just for today, okay?" or "sorry that i'm making you go through this. you really shouldn't have went here with me." stuff like that is what would make it feel a bit more like a real relationship and this exactly what their relationship lacks.

in the end we didn't get a single bit of info abt whether haida have found a job or not. he was supossed to get into IT and? after visiting retsuko's parents it was never mentioned again?? did netflix really just forget about it?

this isn't really an issue, but i still wonder who have hit haida with that truck. his brother said that he didn't do it but how did he even know that happened? not like haida would've told him about that considering their relationship... is, yknow.

and now, to the good stuff!! i have to admit, the 1st half of s5 was good, great even. those honestly were the best aggretsuko eps after the stalker incident in s3.

SHIKABANE ABSJSJSJ (no explanation needed) <33

haida deserved that. bro was being miserable and i loved every second of it. now he knows how tough life can be!! and that's a good thing.

as always, tadano never fails to make the show better, no matter what season is it. the thing where he bought the whole internet cafe? hilarious.

i'm bad at explaining why a show is good i was born to be toxic so that's about it haha. would love to hear others' opinions! <33

#aggretsuko #aggressive retsuko #shikabane #aggretsuko season 5 #haida #tadano #retsuko aggretsuko #retsuko x haida

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thvalentin · 5 months

Text

TURN ON THE LIGHTS; thv moodboard

"turn on the lights i'm looking for her too"

lowercase intended

starstruck taehyung makes it his sole mission to have the girl deejaying the rave end up in his arms by the end of the night,

pairing: raveboy!thv x dj!oc (cupid)

genre: smut; slight??angst (hypersexual mc); fluff (cause thv loves her so much); pwp (porn w plot cause it be like that)

warning?: afabmc, bad grammar lol, unedited, shit lead up(?), they are strangers to lovers very quick lol, hypersexual(they fucklike rabbits lol) head (f; receiving), tae is hung lmao, hes kinda stalkerish but not really, mc does not stand on bidness, unprotected sex, creampie (no babies thats gross..), dirty talk(mainly taehyung,, yeah.), cursing, spit(?), multiple orgasms, slight exhibition (THEY ARE OUTSIDE!), missionary, riding, mindbreak(she really loves taehyung's dick)

THIS AINT NO RATED PG SHIT...

THIS SHIT RATED... MF,,, PORN (no minors, thv don't do that)

☆★

"alright motherfuckers, put your hands up for this shit and turn the fuck up!" the angelic girl exclaims into the mic hyping up the already overzealous crowd. her headphones hanging halfway off her head as she caresses the soundboard her head bopping while she does.

she in her zone, her safe space which she definitely needed after the week she had. her girlfriend leaving her cause her stamina is too much for her was not on her radar for the week, but shit happens. luckily for her friend made sure to have her booked at busy rave after rave for this weekend and this was the biggest one of the three and her last one. so far nothing out of the ordinary had happened at any of them, but tonight her intuition told her to keep her eyes peeled. maybe it was the location it was kinda shady after all, but that wasn't new for her— perhaps its the ebony haired boy with the pretty eyes that had been boring holes through her all night that had her on edge.

"cupid am i tripping or has he been watching you all night?" her best friend says close to her ear earning a shrug from the focused girl, "you should go see whats up with him girl! he's fine as fuck.." she nudges her friend who shoots her a side-eye, "come one girl!" she shakes her, "i can take over up here, plus maybe he'll make you feel better about kayla." cupid's entire body goes stiff and she takes her hands off the board, throwing them up and backing off.

"and on that note i'm taking my break..." the girl goes to take off her headphones putting them on her friend who shakes her head,

"i'm serious cup," she puts her hand on cupid's shoulder only to get shrugged off. how could she think the best way to get over getting dumped about her sex drive is to have more sex? the girl sighs, stepping down from the platform getting swallowed by the crowd. squeezing between the sardine packed sea of bodies failing to notice the ebony man close behind like a tiger on the prowl. looking around cluelessly searching for a spot to get a drink, blinded by the flashing multicolored lights every time she looked too far up, guarding her eyes with her hand as she finally emerges on the other side. a waft of cool autumn air smacking her in the face causing goosebumps to pop up all over her arms, coming to a realization she should have worn more fur than what she had on her feet. her arms falling down to her side as she still had the found what she was looking for. ready to just turn around and give up on her drink, she turns on her heels and that's when she sees him again.

taller than she thought he was, even prettier this close, why is he so close? she thought. "you-"

"been watching you." he says before she can continue earning a nod from the disoriented girl, "i love how you mix..." he smiles, his perfect veneers poking out a warm feeling stirring in the girl's stomach, how beautiful she thinks to herself, crossing her feet anchoring her weight on her back leg forcing her to lean away from the mysterious man standing in front of her, "you're so divine... the way you carry yourself on stage is mesmerizing." cupid can feel a fever rush up her cheeks a smile threatening to break through her hard exterior, "i wonder if you can keep it up underneath me."

surely she had her wits about her, but the way he stares at her with those dark eyes like he'll devour her any moment now caused a fuzzy feeling to coil in her nether region. this was her problem— see it didn't take much to get her going, but it took everything to make her stop. she knows she should walk away, not letting her friend's words live in her head and cause her to stray from her path to fixing her issue. but the closer he gets the harder it is to do the right thing, his presence daunting as he hovers over her frozen frame. her mouth lays agape words failing to follow, "your name cherie." his honied baritone voice says more as a demand than a question.

"cupid.." it rolls off her tongue as his hand slithers up the shaft of her neck a sweet hum escaping her pretty glossed lips, the man's eyebrows turn up a look of carnal desire painting his chiseled face as his thumb drags across her bottom lip smearing the gloss— his eyes trailing up to meet hers hooded and far away.

"how perfect," he smiles, "taehyung." he emits lowly his eyes scanning the entirety of her face, "what do you want with me, hm?" he asks as if he didn't approach her first— the girl's eyebrows knit together and she nuzzles herself into his hand against her blazing cheek. what did she want with him? why did she always get like this? her body tenses with need, absolutely soaking her panties that border on leaking as she looks at him with a look one should never give a stranger, "i'm not a mind reader cher, come on tell me what is it?" his voice mocks her state tapping his palm against her cheek trying to kickstart her.

"i want- no i need you to use me." that's what she needs, its what she always needs. how could she be shamed for something so simple, so human?

"mmm" taehyung hums, nodding to himself as he takes her hand dragging off behind the stage, the rhythmic bass matching the tempo of the beating in her hungry cunt. so comfortable with this stranger, the lack of judgement because he obviously wants what she does, to use her till she passes out. her hopes high as he hoists her up on the ledge, dipping between her craning legs making space for his broad shoulders to sit comfortably between them. his long fingers hooking under the band of her all too short shorts tugging them down her long legs. she's embarrassed, her wetness on display through the obvious wet patch on her cute little panties— the tip of his finger rubbing over the sensitive slit causing the girl to shudder and look away a hand over her mouth. he circles through the thin fabric avoiding her begging clit her anticipation through the roof as his sultry bedroom eyes meet her shy ones. slipping past the pathetic garment his finger fussing through the folds sliding around with ease— she's so wet stupid wet, he hadn't even done anything yet.

the man could feel his shaft lengthening in his pants, amazed by her desire, he wants to satiate her with more than she can take, "your little pussy is so eager, yea? you want me to stretch you out? fill you full, cher?" he coos, teasing a finger at her entrance watching her greedy hole clench around nothing, a deep chuckle escaping his lips— his tongue swiping against her opening earning a lewd, touch starved mewl from the girl above. his hips bucking up as he pulls away, "be a good girl and stay still." he demands his playful tone lost as he brings his tongue back into contact with her yearning cunt, delving his tongue deep inside earning the sweetest moan. he needed more, his nose nudging against her pulsating bud curling his arms under her thighs pulling her closer forcing her to lay flat on her back. almost animalistic as he pulls his tongue from her saccharine pool, nipping at her clit feeling her writhe under him. his long tongue lapping at her wetness letting none out it go to waste suckling at her.

her pleasure so immense making her soft brown eyes roll to the back of her head as he tucks two of his digits inside of her— curling deep to find her sweet spot a loud whine jolting out of her throat. she could feel her high coming, but she wanted to hold out clenching tight around his fingers triggering him to suck harder, move his fingers slower fucking her slow and deep edging her on as her back arches off the platform, "come on baby, give it to me." he looks up, the look on her face so pleasing to him, "i want you to look at me when you cum all over my fingers," taehyung voices, loud and clear, the girl nodding not behind able to voice anything coherent in-between her moaning. anchoring herself up on her elbows locking eye's with taehyung as he tickles the sponginess of her g-spot sending her over edge, immediately collapsing back down as he fucks her slow through her high, "good fucking girl..." his voice stammers, his fingers retracting from her messy pussy covered in cum and spit.

taehyung stands up, preying on the girl before him hovering over her. his arm looping behind her shoulder pulling her in for a hungry kiss making her taste herself, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth as she wraps her legs around him. she wasn't satisfied, but taehyung isn't done with her— pulling away to undo his pants pulling his cock out of his boxers. cupid's eyes going wide at the sight of the long, thick shaft with an angry red head. curved just a bit as it springs against his stomach, something deep inside her unlocks causing her wetness to sop out of her pulsating pussy, "you want this cock baby? want it deep inside that pretty cunt, yea?" he slips and slides it between the petals of her nether region, earning soft groans— "tell taehyung what you want cher." he tilts his head to the side, annoyance running through the helpless girl. he knows what she wants, how unfair to make her beg when she's already this desperate.

"fuck me, please taehyung..." how shameful of her to beg a complete stranger to do such a thing, but she didn't care she needed him to split her in two.

"how polite, anything for you sweet girl." he complies, pushing his head past her entrance with a loud squelch. she'd never had anything as big as him inside before, the fit tight forcing grunts out of taehyung as eases his shaft deep into her. damn near folding her in half, but she doesn't mind blinded by the pleasure and quiet pain of being stretched so wide, "fuck..." he moans bottoming out inside of her. she borders on another orgasm just from his entrance as he sits with his dick pressed against her cervix. slowly he starts to pull out just to his tip before jolting his hips forward,

"oh fuck," she cries out so short, in shock a wave of the most delicious pleasure reverberates up her spine straight to her head making her delirious, "please, please..." she begs so whiny, so desperate, clawing at his back. taehyung nods, pulling back again pushing inside her so rough, "oh god..." she brinks on sobbing, grabbing at him finger pads going white with pressure as she slams so good into her. his veiny arms border on each side of her for leverage as he fucks his shape into her, ruining her for anyone else. her little pussy sucking him in with every stroke begging him to come back and nest deep inside grazing her sweetest spot. his arms moving from the sides of her head gripping at her love handles for the most control. broken sobs leaving her mouth that couldn't keep shut, she'd never been used to well before— in love with the way he makes her feel as he stomach starts to ache with another high on the way, his name spilling out of her mouth uncontrollably warning him she was about to break. tightening around him which he didn't even think was possible causing him to arch over— the sound of skin on skin so indecent, but it turned the two on right along the slick that gathers around the base of his shaft as white cream; evidence of just how much she loves his dick.

"cum all over it, look at you, nasty girl." taehyung laughs watching the girl go crosseyed driven crazy by his long deep strokes as she topples over crying out his name, letting those around know just who turned her into this cock crazed bitch, "get up." he demands her, impatience reaching for her wrist to switch positions putting her on top, "you can do this for me right?"

cupid nods expeditiously, moving her shaking body to mount taehyung like the good girl she is, "attagirl..." he praises caressing her blazing face as she sinks onto him. somehow he feels even bigger like this pushing into her cervix, so greedy she thinks about how good his cum would feel pouring into her as she wines her hips, "such a good girl."

"im a good girl," she repeats breathlessly, mindlessly bouncing on his pretty cock, white hot pleasure blinding her all the while taehyung pushes the minuscule bikini top out of his way to pinch at her nipples with supple fingers, his voice going hoarse as he can feel his release coming jerking his hips losing the rhythm , soft hands sliding down her waist to sheath himself inside her filling her full almost too full, "inside please, please i need your cum," the filth seeps out pathetically as she creams all over his cock, never this happy before as she smiles drunk with pleasure

"cum for me please, one more time," he begs grinding her painfully sensitive clit against his stomach right below his happy trail, giving him what he wants she tightens around him falling over onto his chest, "fuuuck cher..." he drags out releasing his hot seed taught against the young girl's womb, earning the most god forsaken sound out of her yet— fucking her through bordering on overstimulation as she starts to twitch, but he wraps his arms around her waist so she can't run placing sweet kisses on her pouty lips quieting her cries, "its okay baby..." he whispers against her lips, her face scrunched up as taehyung slowly pulls out his softening cock, bringing her in closer;petting her head, "you're so beautiful," he says, "you were so good." he assures her staring at the fucked out girl through long lashes, barely able to keep her eyes open. he smiles at her so sweetly, going to get up earning a whine from her as she reaches up for him, "i'm not going anywhere i promise." he places a kiss on her head proceeding to dress her before any of the stage hands come see; as the rave was coming to an end.

not too much later, the two come from behind the stage, hand in hand— cupid's best friend meeting her with surprised eyes, "well would you lookie here." the instigating girl crosses her arms at the sight before her, "looks like you listened to me after all," she giggles,

"i lost track of time..." cupid nervously rubs the back of her neck, lying through the skin of her teeth like taehyung's cum wasn't currently marinating inside of her,

"mhm," her friend hums, "sure, i'll believe that." she looks between the two,

"you can blame me," taehyung pipes up, and her friend's mouth makes and O shape, nodding, "i couldn't help myself," he pauses his hand snaking down cupid's ass giving it a squeeze, "she's so lovely." he smiles at her friend who smiles back.

"well of course she is" the best friend says in a duh tone, "and you better remember that!" she points before walking off to another gaining her attention,

taehyung diverts his eyes back to cupid who can hardly hold eye contact with him, "what? you still shy..." he teases, reaching for her jaw— turning her to look at him, "how could you be? you need me to break you off again." he speaks so sweet dangerously close to her lips,

"mmm~" she hums against his puffy lips, "i think i do..." she responds just before she enveloped by a long sloppy kiss.

she's on cloud nine, finally found her equal— no more hiding the brazen, sex crazy side of her cause he's just as bad... if not worse.

a/n: i haven't written smut in so long, so sorry if this is shit, im still trying to find my groove lmao, but yea uhm i'm taehyung biased so you'll be seeing a lot of this shit. also most (probably all) of my aus n things like that are ambw cause i am a bw, but! hopefully that doesn't deter you from reading. okay bye. li luvs thv.

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #ambw kpop #ambw smut #bts scenarios #bts taehyung #bts smut #taehyung imagine #bts imagines #kpop imagines #bts v #v fanfic

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cherienymphe · 2 years

Text

Suburbia IX (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

You were awake when the sun rose, face tight and eyes still wet from all of the crying you’d done. You’d thrown up until there wasn’t much left to expel, the scent of bile still lingering on your breath. Your girls had thankfully slept through the night, and you were beyond grateful because you were sure this was the first time in your life you didn’t think you were equipped to look after them, right now.

The video played in a loop in your head for hours, and you had even taken a pause to go back and make sure it was real. You’d gone to your laptop in hopes that you’d imagined the whole ordeal…but you hadn’t. Your stomach had churned all over again at the sight of you and Peter on your bed, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from crying.

How did you get here?

It seemed unreal. Peter had been a dream come true. He’d been almost too good to be true, and you supposed that was in fact what happened. He’d been like an angel, your saving grace, and now he’d turned into your own personal devil. The thought made you want to cry all over again.

Once again, you found yourself thinking if you’d fed into this somehow. Maybe if you had been sterner? Less comfortable around him? Should you have tried harder to keep things strictly professional and less…laxed? You weren’t stupid. You knew what this was.

Blackmail.

As cut and dry as it could possibly be. Only, you didn’t know what Peter was blackmailing you for. The idea that he was secretly like the bitches in town and had been plotting to ruin your life this entire time had crossed your mind. You told yourself that Peter wasn’t like that, but then again, you realized now more than ever that you didn’t know Peter, at all.

Still, the most obvious reason seemed to be that he wanted his job back. If that was the case, you realized that you’d have no choice but to agree. Such a thought made you want to be sick all over again. The thought of Peter anywhere near your girls after all of this was a worrying one. Even if he did ‘love those girls like his own’, you didn’t want him anywhere near them.

That thought sparked an even more disturbing one that you didn’t even want to consider.

Peter had kissed you. He’d had sex with you, and now he was blackmailing you with the tape of that. You wondered if he was using this tape for something even more disturbing than wanting his job back, and you dropped your head into your hands. You’d been up for hours going over this in your head, and at this point you were going to drive yourself crazy.

You needed to get past this as soon as possible.

You had considered calling Nat, but then you’d have to tell her about that night, and just thinking about it was bad enough. The situation was bad, yes, but you needed to figure out how bad this was. You needed to know what Peter wanted from you and what he planned to do if he didn’t get it. You didn’t even know how to go about doing this, but luckily for you, an unknown number showed up on your phone an hour after the sun was up.

Deep down, you knew who it was.

It took you a long time to answer, hand trembling when you picked up your phone. When you did, you didn’t say anything, breath shaky. You didn’t hear anything on the other end either, and you swallowed, trying to decide if you wanted to start with anger or pleading when he finally said something.

“How are you?”

You frowned at that, face scrunching together at his words. You wanted to scoff, and you did, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Are you insane…? How am I?”

More tears finally fell, and you pressed your hand to your mouth.

“I-.”

“What do you want?” you interrupted, getting straight to the point.

Peter sighed, and if you didn’t know any better, he sounded sad.

“There are a lot of things that I want, but… I want us to talk first. Face to face. That’s what I want, right now,” he quietly said.

“Fine,” you bit out. “Where?”

“Your-.”

“You’re not getting anywhere near my house ever again,” you spat.

Peter was quiet for a while, and you thought he’d argue, but he eventually relented. He suggested a restaurant that you often frequented with Nat, and you told yourself that was just a coincidence. You told him what time you’d be there before promptly hanging up.

Peter sounded the same, but his voice had a different effect on you now. It literally made you shiver in disgust, and it took forever to finally work up the courage to go about your morning. You checked on your girls, lingering just a tad longer than necessary as you smoothed their hair and played with them. You didn’t know what your life would be like after today, and you desperately wanted to go back to a time where it was just the 3 of you.

Before Peter.

Nat was perfectly agreeable about getting the girls while you ‘got some work done’. You’d tried your best to match her energetic energy, but you were sure it didn’t translate well. Nat didn’t comment on it, but you knew she would at some point. When she came to get them, you were dressed, pretty nicely actually, and she commented on it.

“Am I getting these girls so you can go on a date?” she wondered with a sly smile.

You gave a light chuckle, swallowing as you helped her strap the girls into her backseat.

“No,” you sighed. “…I just actually need to go into the office today.”

The lie came easily, but there was a brief moment where you almost sent her a pleading look. There was a moment where you wanted her to see through you, but then you thought about the severity of the situation you were in, and you decided that you didn’t want to involve Nat in that unless it was absolutely necessary.

Reality set back in when she drove off, and you had to run back inside to vomit in the kitchen sink. Your chest was heaving when you were done, fingers digging into the countertop as you attempted to calm down. You were trembling when you finally righted yourself, and your walk to the car felt longer than usual.

The restaurant was fairly empty when you arrived. It was still pretty early, after all, and you were beyond grateful that at least there wasn’t anyone around to witness this meeting. No one of consequence anyway. You told the staff that you were meeting someone, and they informed you that Peter was already there.

You frowned at that because your nerves actually had you arriving almost 20 minutes early.

Your steps sounded so loud in your ears, and you almost turned around left. But then you thought about your children, and you thought about how this could hurt them too. God, you felt horrible because that was the first time it had occurred to you, but it was true, wasn’t it? If Peter released that video, you wouldn’t be able to raise your girls here.

In fact, who was to say how long it would follow you? Would it come back to haunt you, and them, 10 years down the road? How would it affect their education? Their lives? How would you ever explain to them what happened that night in a way that wouldn’t make them hate you? That wouldn’t make them think you’d taken advantage of their former babysitter who was so much younger than you and your employee?

These thoughts fueled your steps, and you took a deep breath when Peter’s back came into view.

As if sensing you, the brunette turned to face you. You could hardly look at him as he stood, startled when he moved to pull out your chair. Your gaze remained on the floor for a few seconds before you moved to sit down, shuddering when he pushed your chair in, arm grazing against you as he did. You only looked up when he sat back down.

Peter looked the same, but strangely, you hadn’t expected that. Because he wasn’t the same, was he? He wasn’t the same man you’d employed and praised and happily left around your daughters. Peter was a predator. He’d preyed on you, and you weren’t able to hold his gaze for long, eyes falling to the table.

“You look really beautiful,” he quietly said, and you looked away. “…but you always do.”

“What do you want?” you finally asked, ignoring his comment.

You looked up when he picked up the menu, skimming over it.

“What’s good? I’ve been here once, and-.”

“Peter.”

Your tone was stern, forceful, and his gaze snapped up to meet yours. He was wearing his glasses today, and you noted that they were fixed now. His curls looked vibrant, and you finally noticed that he was dressed almost as nicely as you. A burgundy sweater and black slacks.

You swallowed, your hard gaze waning some as it turned pleading.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered with a shrug.

Peter’s tongue darted out to swipe along his lips before he sat the menu back down. He stared at you for what felt like a long time before a soft sigh left him. He adjusted his glasses.

“I want you,” he quietly said, making your heart drop.

You simply stared at him, almost unable to process his words before glancing away. You stewed over them, telling yourself that you hadn’t heard what you just thought you did. A sharp exhale left you, gut twisting in a way that it hadn’t before, not even in the past 24 hours. It had occurred to you briefly, but you had hoped…

“What…?”

You looked at him again just in time for him to get up and move into the seat next to you. You were frozen, unable to move as he gazed at you.

“I want you,” he repeated, reaching for your hand.

You attempted to pull away, but he covered it before you could, threading his fingers through yours in your lap. You uncomfortably looked around, but the few people in the restaurant paid you no attention.

“I…I hate that I had to go about all of this in this way, but…”

He moved closer, and you refused to look at him.

“…you didn’t leave me much choice. You won’t take my calls and-.”

“You raped me,” you furiously whispered, tearfully glancing around. “I didn’t want to call it that before because I liked you, Peter, I really did, but-.”

“When was the last time anyone made you feel like that? Even back in college? Old boyfriends? You loved being with me,” he argued, reaching for your face with his free hand.

You smacked it away, quickly glancing around.

“I wasn’t in my right mind, and you knew that. Not only did you take advantage of me, but you…”

You trailed off, looking away.

“You recorded it,” you choked out. “If you cared about me, at all-.”

“I do care about you. More than anyone else in this town,” he harshly argued. “I want to build a life with you.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him at that, horrified.

“I want…”

He shook his head, curls bouncing, and he swallowed.

“This isn’t just about sex or some hard on I have for the woman who hired me,” he told you, and you grew more and more horrified. “I love you.”

You attempted to stand, but his hold on your hand grew painful, and you winced.

“You’re the most wonderful woman I ever met,” he continued. “Your love for your girls is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It’s attractive and admirable, and you do it all so well, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You glanced around, this time with a helpless and pleading look, but no one was looking your way.

“I’m here, now, and… I love those girls like they’re my own, and they already love me like-.”

“Do not finish that sentence,” you spat, looking at him and finally interrupting this nonsense. “You are nothing to them.”

His boyish face hardened at that, jaw clenching.

“I disagree, but it doesn’t really matter, because if I’m not now, I will be soon.”

Your face crumbled at that, and your eyes found your lap.

“If I release that tape, you won’t just become a laughing stock. You won’t just be a pariah,” he slowly said. “You’ll be hated.”

You refused to look at him.

“By everyone. Even Nat. Even…Mr. Barnes,” he sneered Bucky’s name. “No one will work for you or help you, and you’ll have no one but me.”

You reached up to wipe your face.

“I’ll tell them the truth,” you weakly replied, glaring at him.

Peter tilted his head to the side, a slight frown between his brows.

“…and what’s that? That you were a willing participant in sleeping with me? That you’re a woman who took advantage of your position over me to get me in bed? Because that’s what that tape shows,” he hummed, finally letting you go. “…and why wouldn’t they believe it? You’re a decade older than me, and you were my employer.”

He scoffed.

“…and I’m willing to bet that you told Nat and him that you fired me…but I’m also willing to bet that you didn’t tell them why. I mean, that was pretty sudden. They have to be curious,” he mused, reaching up to brush tears away from your cheek. “…and what conclusions do you think they’re going to come to if that video gets out?”

His arm slid around your back.

“What’s more believable? Your version of the story…or mine…?”

Peter leaned in, wiping your face with a soft look on his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, fingers still lingering on your face. “You’re the last person I’d want to hurt. After our girls, of course.”

More tears fell, and your lips trembled.

“…but I could make you so happy,” he whispered with a smile. “You would be so happy with me.”

“A relationship built on blackmail,” you sneered. “How promising.”

Peter sighed, finally pulling away. He looked almost disappointed in you, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. You didn’t look at him, and you heard Peter move as he stood to his feet. His fingers trailed down the side of your face, and you shuddered.

“I’ll give you the day to think about it,” he said, finally making you look up at him, eyes troubled. “I hope you make the right choice.”

You clenched your jaw at his patronizing tone.

“I hope you think of how this could affect the girls.”

His words made you feel cold, and he looked like he wanted to say something else before thinking better of it. You watched him walk away, and you sat there in disbelief, wondering how you were going to decide to ruin your life.

Nat could tell that something was wrong when you picked your girls up. There was a slight frown on her face as she studied yours, arms crossed over her chest.

“Everything okay?”

Being honest wasn’t even an option. What could Nat do in 24 hours that would get you out of this situation? Provided she wasn’t disgusted enough. Deep down, you knew that Nat would believe you if you told her the truth, but again, what solution could she provide? You knew she’d want to escalate it as far as it could go, but you didn’t want the tape getting out, at all, and it absolutely would if you attempted to take Peter to court.

You really didn’t want to drag Nat into this.

“Yeah,” you lied with a sigh. “Just a lot of work stuff on my mind.”

She didn’t look like she bought it, but she clearly decided to let it go for the moment. She reluctantly returned your goodbyes, and your smile was gone as soon as you drove off. The noose hanging around your neck grew tighter and tighter with every hour that passed.

After leaving the restaurant, you’d sat in your car and cried for hours. You were beyond disgusted and horrified with Peter, but just as easily so with yourself. You felt like you should’ve seen this somehow, prevented it somehow, because not only were you wrapped up in this, but so were your girls.

And Peter knew that.

Peter knew that you’d do just about anything for your children, and that only disgusted you more. You had let him into your life so seamlessly. You’d allowed him glimpses of yourself that was only reserved for a select few, and it was coming back to bite.

Your girls were happy and oblivious when you arrived home. They were just happy to be home and play with their toys. Happy to be with you, and you wanted to cry for them. They didn’t deserve either of the options. They didn’t deserve to grow up in a town that would crucify them for the sins of their mother, nor did they deserve to have Peter as a father.

You didn’t care how much he ‘loved’ them, he didn’t deserve to.

You couldn’t eat for the rest of the day, and it was even harder to sleep. Peter’s words, and the video, were all on a loop, taunting you. You hadn’t been able to take it, deleting it, and you thought to yourself how all of this would be solved if it was just…gone. However, Peter, the smart man that he was, probably had several copies. There was no doubt that he’d done everything to secure your entrapment, and as much of a longshot that it was, you had to try.

And you couldn’t try if he wasn’t here.

Disgust filled you at your thoughts, but you rationalized that putting up with Peter for now in exchange for a lifetime of freedom from him was worth it. You didn’t want him around your girls, it was literally the last thing you wanted, but if you didn’t believe anything else, you believed that Peter wouldn’t hurt them. As much as the truth killed you to admit.

Your mind was going a mile a minute when morning finally came. You’d been chewing on your lip all night, convincing yourself that you could do this. Peter was a genius, this was true, but you had 10 years on him and that had to count for something, right? As much as it disgusted you to do so, you had no choice but to answer the phone when an unknown number flashed along the screen.

tags: @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @buckybarnesplumwhore @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @melli0112 @zombiexbody @holl2712 @mansaaay @biiskuitx @marlenetough @darkparkers @frisky975 @deluxeplanteater @sgt-seabass @asonofpeter @siriusjohnpotter @wanna-b-avenger @marlenetough @supremethunda @harryhollandsgirlfriend @tomholland85 @jemimah-b99 @nocturnalms @non-binary-nightmare @silkholland @avengers-goddess @frozenhuntress67 @aquariusbarnes @ashpeace888 @abm111815 @shirukitsune @lipstickstainedred @a-secretblogger @withyoutilltheendofthismess @annejackson10-blog @beckamongstthestars @simplyparker @saintnourah @skylar-ish-meh @twwcs @imdoingathingmom @pearlkitten33 @bookfrog242 @emberenchanted @edgycatx @venomsvl @mrparkerwillseeyounow @theliterarybeldam @cockslutpadalecki @straywords @elenaysusneuras @lexi-2004 @bxtchopolis @v-velvetykisscs @dirtytissuebox @bibliophilewednesday @succubusqueenie @lonnie2390147 @get-your-fics @famousdestinygarden @lovedetlost

#dark!peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker #dark fics #marvel fanfiction

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joaneunknown · 1 year

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What does it take to be a writer? Well, it is more than just writing...

Maybe you have been thinking that you have the talent and the creativity to become a writer and have been planning to begin your first book. Honestly, being a writer, even if you aren't well-known and you don't have too many readers besides your family and friends, is way more than just writing.

And, as I have been writing for almost two years now and with two books on the market, I have got a taste of how it is to be a writer even if I am part of the writers that struggle building a small heap of readers month by month. With all that has been said, here are ten things a writer must do besides writing

1. Maintaining a consistent reading habit

I have said this a thousand times but reading improves everything you write. It inspires, it makes you create other versions of a situation, it takes you to different worlds and ultimately, reading teaches you how to write. Having a consistent reading habit means, from my point of view, always reading something. Maybe not every single day but constantly having a "now reading" book. Read how many books you can in a month, whether that would be one or three or five or even ten books a month! Reading is your tool as a writer, don't let it collect dust.

2. Daydreaming/Brainstorming every single minute of the day

Daydreaming as a writer is also a vital tool. If you don't daydream, then you won't come up with a book idea or even a short-story idea. You constantly have to let your mind wonder and daydream. Yes, most ideas coming from daydreaming are shit but if you know how to select the ones that are worth transforming into a book, then half of your job is done. If you have an idea, then the rest of the writing will flow right through.

3. Motivating themselves to keep going

Personally, there have been a few times where I found myself lost in a rabbit hole with no exit. I didn't know what to write and how to write it because all the writing I was doing at the time was just flat with no flavors added. And, somehow, I got out of it even when I thought that writing was no longer my calling. Of course, I got over that quite quickly by thinking of what I could write, and the pleasure writing gives me.

4. Thinking out of the box

Now, I consider that writing isn't for everybody because when you are writing you must think out of the box and think of all the stories and plots that exist. Sometimes, that is not as easy as every single one of us (especially the writers that are just starting out) has a larger or smaller fear of being judged. Judging nowadays comes from the tiniest pieces of crap, so I came to the conclusion that no matter what I would write about, people are always going to judge it.

5. Visualizing their story

Mentally, I think all writers visualize their stories and turn them into movies. Visualizing your story should be active most of the time even when you are not writing because it can reveal new ideas and possibilities that you haven't seen before.

6. Being designers

Even if you are a self-published author or a traditional published one, all writers desgin their books' covers. If you are like me, a person with no artistic talent like painting, drawing or sketching, then you will have a problem turning your imaginary design created in your mind into a physical drawing or painting. I did that with both of my eBooks and luckily for me I had such a good designer that visualized the cover of my books better than I did. But, although it may seem like the easy part that comes with being a writer, it truly isn't. Your book must have a cover that relates to it and that could attract readers to it too!

7. Being some good damn researchers

Researching is vital for any kind of book, and, thanks to the internet, you have all the sources to come up with a good research project. Researching ends only when you are done with your book because while writing the book whether that would be in the middle or the end, you still need certain information to make your story more credible.

8. Having managerial and marketing skills

Marketing your book and yourself as a writer is also a part of this job, especially when you don't have a team behind your name. I, for one, understand how hard it is to market and manage your books so that people don't forget about them two days after you release them. Luckily, social media platforms are a great way to market, manage and promote yourself as a writer but it does take a lot of time and patience to build a platform.

9. Being a harsh editor and a pretentious reader

Editing is a very hard job to do that gets even harder when you are editing your own writing. Why? Because as a writer you think your writing is impeccable and to edit your books properly, you must be harsh and cruel. If it doesn't seem interesting to you, cut it. If it is too flat, grow it out. If it doesn't make sense, delete it. And I could go on with such examples for the next eight hours. Being a pretentious reader helps you edit your draft more than any other editorial skills. Having high standards for your writing does nothing but improve it.

10. Being vulnerable

All writers must be vulnerable in their writing. Writing is the place where you let it all bleed and not all people are courageous enough to expose themselves in such a way. I, for one, consider that writing is for people with thick skin because it takes a lot of strongness to put your pain out there. Not only that but you have to dig deep into yourself to make your work heartfelt and emotional and, even if not all readers notice it, there is always more behind a beautifully written story. Beautifully written stories start with a hurting soul and end up with a healed one...

With all this being said, what are you waiting for? Grab a pen and something to write on and begin your writing journey today! Remember, write what entertains you and it might also become something that entertains others!

"Start before you are ready" - Steven Pressfield

This is Joane Unknown, thank you for reading this week's Talking Unknown post and get ready for another one next week. More at the link in my bio👇

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sehtoast · 7 months

Text

From Ashes to Home (Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: Some ghosts aren't meant to be found, but the case of Homelander's mother is one that deserves to be revealed. He deserves a chance to know what's left of her. Chapter 11 of All of You is Left to Love. Not plot dependent.

Warnings: Smut if you squint, parental death themes, he's finally allowed to grieve. Vought's catalog of inflicted horrors.

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Special thanks to @theonlymanintheskyisme for beta reading <3

Fic Directory

I just… I wish I knew anything about her.

Those words echoed in Ben’s mind for days on end, endlessly looping in that sad, defeated whisper. Somehow, the subject of Homelander’s parentage came up, and, well…

It always was a tender topic.

He hated the way John bit back his tears. The way he hid himself behind an air of indifference lest he let the last pillar of his defenses crumble to dust.

Even now, after all this time, he still struggled to really let it out. But Ben always knew. Could always tell by the twitch of Homelander’s lip, the scrunch of his nose, the way he wouldn’t blink as a way to hold back his tears.

He made a silent promise to find all that he could as he held Homelander that night. Each brush of his hand through his once god-like lover’s hair a vow to find something, anything that could bring him closer to the mother he never knew.

Every day that followed, Ben found himself more and more consumed by ideas on how to find her. Would he have to bribe someone? Money was certainly no worry. Would he have to intimidate people? Most likely, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get the staff in Vital Records to shit their pants.

Would he have to march into Stan’s office and make more demands?

Luckily, being the new head of The Seven came with many perks, even more so for actually being liked by the staff at Vought Tower.

What little information referenced John’s parentage only directly named Soldier Boy, who'd already revealed himself as Homelander’s father. Granted, that information was updated by Homelander himself after it came to light. Prior to that, the line for the father's name had been blank.

Perhaps sperm donor was a better title... He hadn't exactly been father of the year when he tried to go nuclear– much less a decent grandfather for leaving Ryan battered.

Ben admittedly had a chuckle over their shared first name, but he found it incredibly odd that Vought named the mother by a code.

1-G.

Benjamin spent several hours a day in the record center’s library of paper files. Many of them were scheduled to be destroyed after being recreated digitally, but it’d take an army to copy and sort decades of documents. He had plenty of time, and he’d rummage through every filing cabinet in the room if that’s what it would take to find even the slightest scrap of information about John’s mother.

The wall crawler drove himself mad trying to work off that one piece of information.

1-G. A code? A title? A fucking label designation for some petri dish somewhere?

Each night, he went back home to Homelander. Each night, he had to pretend to have been out prowling the streets for miscreants instead of playing librarian. He’d come home with dinner, sit down with Homelander, and pick at his food as each disgusting secret he’d uncovered entangled itself into his waking mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Ben jumped, looking up at Homelander with wide eyes and a piece of spaghetti dangling from his lips.

“That! That right there.” John pointed accusingly with his fork. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’,” the web-head shook his head. “Just– work’s been a lot lately, y’know? Stan’s a bastard, the team is acting up... Same headache, different day.”

Homelander’s eyes narrowed at him, suspicion nestled deep inside those beautiful blues.

“Bullshit! You’re not eating lately and you’re sure as fuck not talking. Did– Are you mad at me?” John pushed away from the table, standing. “You haven’t said more than five words since you got in.”

“Johnny,” Ben sighed, lowering his head. “I’m not mad, I just… I’m just really caught in my head right now, okay?”

“Right, right.” Homelander rolled his eyes, grabbing his carryout container. “Whatever. Talk to me when you feel like it, I guess. I’ll just give you your space.” Dejected bitterness laced every word.

Ben lacked the steam to chase him to the bedroom and talk some sense into him. Fuck, he could barely do it for himself, let alone John. So, he let the pot simmer. Cleaned up around the house and showered to kill some time before meandering back to their room.

Homelander had shut off all the lights and curled up close to the edge of the bed, blankets obscuring his form. Ben wondered if his love was actually asleep, or just hiding in the only way he knew how anymore.

A pang of guilt hit his heart.

It’d been roughly two weeks since he started rummaging through Vought’s archives, and quite likely two weeks since he’d paid enough attention to Homelander.

Ben eased into bed, curling around Homelander’s ‘sleeping’ form. He didn’t move to pull the covers away, opting instead to let love keep a layer of protection between himself and a source of pain. He knew times like these only stoked the paranoia that one day John would wake to an empty bed and home. That Ben would up and leave him after finding someone better, or realizing he wasn't worth the effort.

Something that would simply never happen.

Benjamin nuzzled close, lips hovering right above John’s covered ear.

“I’m not mad at you…” He began. “I promise, Johnny. I’m not. I just… It’s a lot to explain. I’ve got this… project that I’m working on. It’s really important, but I’m finding so many fucking horrors from Vought in the meantime that I just…”

He breathed a heavy sigh.

“It’s taking a lot out of me. That with everything else I see in a day, and… it’s a lot, y’know?”

Ben paused, waiting to see if Homelander would shuffle out from under the blankets. When he didn’t, Benjamin continued.

“I love you. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He shifted away from Homelander, opting to give him space instead of smothering him. It took only a few moments for that bundle of blankets to shuffle his way. A hand snaked out from underneath, fingers joining with Ben’s.

The wall crawler shifted onto his side and pulled John closer.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the night. Ben dozed off with ease while Homelander fought against his drowsiness to bask in the moment. The rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest against his head, the steady beats of his heart.

He adored his little spider more than anything in the world. Even the slightest thought of losing Benjamin was enough to send him spiraling into paranoia and rampant imaginings of worst case scenarios. It’d been two years since he lost his powers, and every day he wondered if Ben would finally decide he wasn’t worth keeping around. Every day he had to remind himself that the wall crawler loves him. That he was more than the house pet his alter ego dubbed him as.

Where would he even be without his Benjamin?

Would he even be alive? Would he have made it out of that containment cell? Would he have survived another week of torture before that guard simply killed him?

Would there be a roof over his head, or the promise of regular meals? A warm bed and a devoted soul with whom to share it?

Would he have someone to protect him now that he couldn’t fend for himself?

Every swirling thought made him realize no, he wouldn’t.

He'd still be in the bad room. He'd likely be dead. Starved or beaten to death, surely. Tortured every single day until he succumbed.

But, god above, that only meant it would make sense if Ben grew tired of him - weak mess of a man that he was now.

Despite the storm of what-ifs pulsating in his mind, John dozed off fairly fast once he laid his head upon Ben’s chest. When he woke, his body was enveloped in heat– some areas more than others.

He was on the brink as soon as his eyes fluttered open.

He lifted the covers to peek, and the sight alone of Ben swallowing him triggered his release instantly, leaving him a writhing, panting mess.

“You,” Ben licked the length of his softening shaft, “and I are due for a date, sir. I called off. We have the whole day.”

Benjamin made good on his word, devoting the entire day to Homelander. He’d barely even thought about his little side project while they were out.

The dying warmth of an early September breeze swept around them as the pair passed all sorts of eateries. The openness of the streets in Queens kept Homelander’s nerves at bay, but John still struggled quite a bit with entering crowded spaces– especially stores. The smaller they were, the more his mind would linger on memories of both his childhood cell and the… other one. But, Benjamin’s presence, along with the duty of carrying the grocery basket, made it a smidge less stressful to accomplish their trip.

“Proud of you,” Ben nudged his shoulder as they walked home, each carrying a paper bag of goods. “Seriously. I hope you know how great it is to see you do all this.”

He couldn’t help but grin despite how vulnerable he really felt. He was like an open wound in public. Exposed, waiting for someone to pick at him or throw salt his way. What if someone recognized him?

What if someone realized the shame of his current state, and he was plastered on the screen of every device with internet access?

Hell, probably every newspaper, too.

Homelander Spotted Looking Half Homeless! is what he imagined the headlines would read. Though he began to allow Ben to trim his hair, he still found himself feeling subpar in appearance. Be it the weight he’d gained, or his casual clothing, he just wouldn’t be The Homelander anymore.

Christ, what if someone asked him to use his powers?

He took deep breaths as they turned another corner, counting each step as they made their way closer to home. By the time the front door closed behind them, he’d about reached his breaking point.

Ben, however, wasted no time in distracting him with banter and meal prep duties.

“Don’t cut yourself again,” the web-head warned as he sorted through pots and pans.

“Not my fault,” John countered, hand idly rolling a bell pepper along the length of the cutting board. “You showed me doing it fast, so I went fast.”

“Yes, babe. But I have actual experience with cooking.”

By the time they could leave the rest of the work up to the oven, the pair had made their way to the couch. John’s legs were strewn over Ben’s lap as he watched TV. Benjamin, however, had pulled out his laptop to browse that barebones document he’d found on John’s parentage.

The sight of the Vought logo snagged Homelander’s attention like a moth to a flame.

“Just that project I’m working on.” Ben hummed coolly, praying to whatever gods there may be that John wouldn’t press the issue. “Mostly just paperwork.”

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Hey, unrelated...” He began, hoping the little lie would go unnoticed– mostly because he didn’t want to admit to what he’d been doing and get John’s hopes up just to dash them with inevitable disappointment. “I was poking around in the paper archives the other day.”

Make up a new number… He’s definitely seen it before.

“3-F as a name placeholder mean anything to you? Like, is it a code or something?”

John’s brow pinched, and he sat silent for a while, raking through memories of decades of Vought propaganda and genuine fact.

“I think…” He trailed off. “I haven’t seen it in a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s how the first supe trial volunteers were categorized. There weren’t massive amounts of people signing up to get injected with V– if you can imagine.”

Ben quirked a brow as his brain raced to connect the dots.

“It was part of keeping their identities off the record, too. Liabilities and all that. Last I heard, all the files on ‘em were shredded once they got what they were looking for.” he continued, brows pinched. “Some fucked up shit went on there. Why?”

“I, uh…” Ben sighed. “Saw it in place of a name in one of the paper docs I pulled the other night. It’s just been bugging me.”

“Deep rabbit hole there.” John sighed, leaning back. “I couldn’t find anything besides the bullshit when I dug out Soldier Boy's old archives. Same thing when I… tried to find my mom– ‘cept everything on her was long gone. Whoever’s on that paper of yours is probably a ghost by now. Literally and figuratively.”

Ben swallowed thickly. Chances are that this 1-G person is certainly dead by now.

John’s mother was certainly dead by now.

But he wouldn’t jump to conclusions until it was time. Just as Ben was about to remote to his work terminal, the oven timer went off.

“Thank god.” John whined. “Staaaarving!”

Over the following weeks, Ben had become wholly consumed by the motivation to find anything about John’s mother. He’d dug through the paper archives every chance he could, even going as far as enlisting some help, but there was nothing.

Ben began to believe there was no trail to follow when one of the staffers he’d paid to assist emailed him a scan of a very old, yellowed notepad.

Pretty sure I found something, the email read. It’s hazy, but it looks like notes from old trial runs. Found it in a junk folder of blurry scans from one of the old ward doctors. Gonna keep looking for more.

True to her word, the staffer even went and drew an arrow to the section she’d found. Instead of 1-G, this Doctor James Waltz person wrote it as ‘Patient 1-G: Gillman.’ The writing was barely legible under the color of a coffee stain, but it was more than Ben had to go off of mere minutes before.

Gillman.

Ben immediately replied to the staffer, practically begging her to send anything else in that file– or at least give him details on where to find it. Blurry or not, he wanted everything he could get his hands on.

It was the gold mine he’d been looking for.

Despite the poor image quality and faded ink, Ben was able to find significant amounts of information on the initial test subjects for Compound V. He had to dive deep through hundreds of file folders to find anything about them– which left him concluding that someone hid these rather than follow the original order to destroy them.

The name Gillman had been his golden ticket. He’d found the liability waiver she signed, partially torn, left with only ‘illman’ remaining on the line – but still distinctly the same name. Ben cursed the record keeper of that era to hell for adding to his frustration.

It seemed everywhere he looked– old genetics testing records, ability documentation, and experimentation records, she was simply dubbed 1-G. All he wanted– needed was a first name. From there, maybe he could track her through public records beyond Vought, but there was nothing.

Except for the harrowing details in her record, that is. Despite the lack of a first name, Ben was able to piece together patient files with mention of her to create quite a… horrifying picture.

Enough to leave him sick to his stomach.

The Doctor Waltz fella who’d been all too kind and revealed her last name also had been to her what Vogelbaum was to John– if not a thousand times worse.

Downright evil, even.

Not every patient survived the Compound V trials. An exceptionally small number of them made out like kings, sporting powers with zero side effects. They’d received the same strain Soldier Boy was given.

Ben considered the dead to be far luckier than those who landed somewhere in the middle.

The unsuccessful strains of V had one of three outcomes: instant death, powers that killed the wielder shortly afterward, or– in the case of John’s mother– the body survives empowerment, but the mind does not.

His mother was left in a state of rageful madness.

As Benjamin pieced together mangled papers and deciphered blurred writing, he was able to construct a vague idea of what happened to her.

Roughly one day after injection, she’d come back to report malaise, but was written off by the doctors. By the second day, Vought had brought her back and contained her in a special cell.

Patient aggression exceptionally high. Engages with hallucinations. Refuses to eat and will not speak to psychological team. Containment failing, recommend sedation.

Notes following were conveniently lost, but picked up roughly two months later. Only problem being that they were almost entirely illegible from what seemed like water damage.

Because of course they’d be damaged.

What was left of her patient reports painted a devastating picture.

Homelander’s mother became a ward of Vought. She’d been the only subject to lose herself that Vought caught before she could come to harm. Waltz had found her ripe for experimentation after studying her abilities. They’d opted for round the clock sedation.

Keep her docile.

Flight, strength, and laser vision were among the descriptors they used. Damn near identical to Homelander’s abilities– lacking his invulnerability. A modern mind could look at this and realize that, along with Ryan’s inheritance of John’s powers, this meant there did exist a genetic component to the development of superpowers in those injected with V.

That understanding, though, was only a theory for Waltz back then.

–breed a new line of heroes.

Subject tissue sent for testing.

The possibilities … ……. mother of modern supes.

–extraction of eggs–

It didn’t take an exceptionally bright mind to realize what had happened to her. A shiver ran down Ben’s spine as he read more and more.

They’d used her as a fucking incubator for their experimental ‘purebred’ supes. For years, she was kept like cattle– artificially inseminated with sperm from promising supes until they’d written off her ability to carry children. After that, they simply harvested her eggs and used an undisclosed method of growing the fetuses to term.

The list of failed subjects was…

It was far too long.

Before Vogelbaum, there was Waltz.

Vogelbaum was not the father of the method by which John came to exist– but he was the first doctor to achieve a perfect creation.

Waltz had the blood of children on his hands. Infants, toddlers. Children beaten to death in combat tests. Children drowned in aquatic efficiency tests. A new subject every five to ten years, it seemed.

Killed in surgical procedures.

Destroyed by their own powers.

Murdered by a madman’s curiosity.

All of them lacking that one thing that made John the exception that he was.

Invulnerability.

Well, that and DNA infused with Compound V.

Waltz retired before his project saw success, passing on the mantle of monster to Jonah Vogelbaum.

Fuck, Homelander may not have even been Vogelbaum’s first subject…

The last note Waltz ever made on John’s mother was in 1986. A new hire slipped up during an operation on her brain.

She died that same day.

It had been the shock of a lifetime when, upon scrolling the dwindling remainder of Waltz's notes, he stumbled upon a faded polaroid. Though it was hazy, there was no denying what he was seeing.

Laid back in a reclined medical chair was an older woman. Long, gray hair. A gaunt face. Expression void of anything. IV lines leading into her arms reflected the flash of the camera.

If he squinted hard enough to combat the blur, Ben could thoroughly see a resemblance. He'd know that face anywhere– those big blue eyes, high cheekbones, thin lips. The curved bridge of her nose.

God, John looked just like her.

And now?

He’s all that’s left of her.

What they’d done with her remains was a mystery, but Benjamin almost didn’t want to know what more they could have possibly done to the poor woman. He felt sick. Bile burning in his throat as he pressed his face into his hands.

He goes out every day and represents Vought. Represents pure evil under the guise of heroism. Fell in love with one of their seemingly infinite amount of victims…

In the weeks it took him to find the end of her story, Ben would hold John tight every night. He’d stare down at his love’s sleeping form and go back and forth in his mind on whether or not to tell him. The thicker the file, the heavier his guilt. Each printout only made it worse.

Would it hurt him? Certainly.

But, it might also close a chapter in his life that John had been so desperately trying to decipher.

Alternatively, it could make everything infinitely worse.

He knew he had to tell Homelander the truth. The only problem was getting the words to quit sticking in his throat every time he tried.

He could tell there was a strain between them with this recent secrecy of his. Where he’d been so late at night, why he wouldn’t talk about it. He stopped pretending he was swinging around the city and just settled for saying work kept him late.

But how could he tell him?

Hey, I found your mom.

It seemed like a ridiculous statement, especially because he didn’t actually find her– just traces. There was no headstone, no urn of ashes.

There was nothing left of her except yellowed paper and faded ink.

As it happened, the pot boiled over one day. Ben hadn’t even realized how bad things had really gotten until the morning John clung to him in bed, preventing him from leaving.

“Is there someone else..?”

The question had taken him completely by surprise.

“Is that why you can’t tell me what you’ve been doing?” He followed up, voice cracking no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “Where you’ve been…”

“What?” Ben rolled over to face him. “John, I–”

“I’d understand.” Homelander shook his head, avoiding eye contact. Tears leaked freely from the corners of his eyes. The dark circles lining them let Ben know he hadn’t slept at all last night. “I’d hate it– I’d hate it so fucking much… But I’d get it.”

The dwindling of his self worth screamed so loudly in every word.

“No!” Ben gripped him, his own eyes clouding. “Never! No, god no– never!” He pulled him closer, burying his face in Homelander’s chest. “No. No, Johnny.”

He didn’t wait for Homelander to speak before he spilled everything. All of the guilt inside falling off his tongue in stammered confessions.

“I didn’t want to– I…” Benjamin breathed, shaking his head to collect himself. “I didn’t want it to hurt you, I just… Not until I knew it was enough to be worth the hurt.” He moved away to look at John, a hand at his cheek to thumb soothing circles. Wasn't sure if he was doing it more for himself or Homelander. “And even then– fuck…”

Ben took a deep breath.

“I’m… I found your mom– sort of, I mean. Not like I actually found her found her, but what happened to her, at least.”

He gulped when John didn’t reply. Instead, that unwavering, wide blue stare begged him to continue. There was something in his eyes… Fury, perhaps. Fascination– absolutely. But, mostly, fear.

Fear that whatever Benjamin was about to say would reopen a lifelong wound held together with makeshift bandages. A wound that would unravel and gush the second something picked at it.

“I found a paper trail. Buried deep in junk folders where nobody would ever think to find shit that matters. Been a big puzzle to put together but…” Ben sniffled. “I can bring home what I have, but I just… I didn’t want to drop that on you without a final answer– and, god, I didn’t want to risk hurting you either. I wanted to find her for you, but it took so long just to even get her last name and I still don’t even have the first na–”

“What is it?” Homelander demanded, eyes widened as though he were in a frenzy. Perhaps he was. “What’s her name!? Is she alive!?”

“Gillman.” Ben replied instantly, the weight of secrecy falling from his shoulders with every bit he revealed. “Her last name’s Gillman. And… by rights, I guess yours is, too, but… no. No, she’s… she’s gone.”

The realization he’d never know his mother crashed over Homelander in waves so violent Benjamin could physically see it happen. He watched John begin to crumble, gradually unraveling more and more until he choked back quiet sobs.

“S’why I asked you that one night about placeholder names… I should’ve just told you upfront.”

Homelander shuddered. “1-G…”

“Yeah,” Ben pulled him close. Of course he knew that name. “That’s her… I’m so sorry, honey.”

Homelander was fully prepared to find he’d been abandoned by the love of his life. Kept around out of sympathy, but abandoned nonetheless. He’d practically convinced himself entirely of it. He wanted to be angry– furious, even. He wanted to grab Ben by the shoulders and shake him for keeping this hidden, but god.

His mother.

The mere thought of her shattered him, and all he could do was plead.

“Show me. Please, Ben– I need to see…

Benjamin spent the day gathering everything he had, abusing Vought’s unlimited employee printing access to duplicate seemingly endless amounts of paper, piling it all into one big folder. He’d warned John about how ugly this would be. How horrifically they’d treated her.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him about the others just like him…

Benjamin felt almost awful walking through the door that afternoon, shuffling in to find Homelander sitting on the couch, simply staring into space. No TV, no book or phone in hand. Just lost in his own mind, leg bouncing restlessly.

“Hey,” he whispered, drawing his love back to earth.

John shot up from where he sat, making a beeline straight for Benjamin.

The web-head had the file extended for him to grab immediately. Homelander snatched it like a child does a toy they’d been excited to finally receive, though excitement seemed to be replaced with dread.

He looked at it for a time, staring at the dense rubber banded folder as though opening it would unleash a black hole that absorbed the whole world. He was afraid to know.

And Ben knew it, too.

“C’mon,” he rested a supportive hand against Homelander’s shoulder. “We’ll do it together.”

He guided John to the couch, heart clenching at the way his blue eyes never strayed from the folder. As the papers became harder and harder to read, Ben had to help fill in the blanks on smudged words he’d deciphered himself. He had half a mind to tease Homelander about never wearing his glasses, but it was far from an appropriate time for such things.

Homelander’s expression grew grim as he read on, and they’d barely cracked through an inch of paper before Ben was encouraging him to take a break.

John’s breathing was uneven, eyes stinging with tears, teeth clenched in fury. His body was too hot, skin too tight, his head pounded. The audacity of the request sent him over the edge.

“How the fuck do you expect me to stop!?” He roared, snatching Ben’s hand away from the folder. He bit his lip, desperately trying to don his mask to hide his emotions. “What, y-you hand me this and now you want me to– no!”

“Okay,” Ben breathed, hands held up in surrender. “I just don’t want it to be overwhelming, y’know? This took me months to get through, and I know how I felt. You’re getting all this right away, and it’s a lot, and–”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Ben gulped, recognizing a burst of rage that once would’ve triggered a crimson glow in those ocean eyes.

“You don’t get it! You don’t fucking get it!” Homelander grit, teeth bared. His eyes accused Benjamin of betrayal. ”You have a mother. A father. Brothers. You have a family. This is all I get! Just a bunch of goddamn paper! So don’t you dare tell me to fucking stop!”

He expected this, but it never did soften the blow to know it was coming. Benjamin knew damn well Homelander would lash out eventually, emotionally fragile as he was given the situation.

The wall crawler shut his eyes as more abuse flew his way, simply taking it.

The dam would burst as soon as the rage faltered. He could practically time it to the millisecond.

“You– I don’t–” Homelander stumbled over his words, breaths coming in and out erratically as he fought to pretend he wasn’t coming undone at the seams. “Nobody– god fucking damn it! N-No!”

When Ben opened his eyes, it was to the sight of John leaned forward, hiding his face into the folder as he fought the lurch of a deep cry.

“It was never supposed to be like this…”

His own eyes pricked with tears as he watched Homelander break.

“I always…” Homelander’s voice leaked in a tight, throaty whisper. “I used to imagine what I’d do if I ever… ever met her. All I could ever think of was hugging her, but… I couldn’t even picture it because she was never real. I used to think if I did find her, maybe I’d feel okay… Like it’d make up for all these years.”

He nearly flinched when Ben began to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“I always wondered if she’d be proud of me, you know? Her son is– was The Homelander, after all. She’d have been proud, right..?”

Ben didn’t know how to respond– or if he even should. All he could focus on was the sorrow twisted on Homelander’s face when he finally lifted his head. The tears staining his face. A streak of snot that would’ve humiliated him were he in a clearer state of mind.

"D’you think she would've loved me..?"

Seeing him break like this made Benjamin regret having ever gone looking for Homelander's mother. And yet… somehow this felt right. Watching him finally feel it. Filling in the pages of his missing parentage after so long.

No… he needed this.

"She would've adored you, pumpkin." Ben worked the file from Homelander's grip as one takes meat from a lion that trusts them enough to allow it. Almost immediately, Homelander leaned into him. He ran his fingers through John’s hair, rocking him slightly. “She’d have loved you more than anything in the world.”

He wanted to say more– god he wanted to say so much fucking more… But he couldn’t. Nothing came to mind. Nothing that would’ve dulled the hurt in his love’s heart to make it all easier, anyway. There was one thing, though…

She was never real. The line reminded the wall crawler of what he’d left out of the folder, fearing that it’d shuffle loose and be lost on the swing home. He was about to throw the egg beater into the already boiled-over pot, but this is what needed to be done. One more thing his discoveries could heal with fire-like agony.

"Johnny..?"

Ben slipped his hand free, reaching behind to his back pocket, pulling free a little photo. He'd printed and laminated it before leaving Vought Tower, just to make sure the incoming tears wouldn't stain it.

He handed it over face down, and the look on Homelander's face said he knew what this was.

"This is… That's her." Homelander stared for what seemed like forever. Fingertips danced across the smooth surface as the tears rolled freely down his cheeks. "S'my mom," he rasped over and over again. "My mom…"

"Takes a little squinting on account of the quality," Ben sniffled. "But you look just like her."

Homelander breathed a laugh, finally wiping the mess of tears and snot on his sleeve. In time, his breathing began to even out as his cries tapered off.

"She's so…" John paused, sucking in a deep breath, holding it tight as he took in every detail of her. "She's beautiful."

Ben wrapped an arm around Homelander once more. “Hmm. Like mother like son, huh?”

Homelander looked as though he’d been given the world and had it taken away all at the same time. Perhaps, though, that’s exactly what this was.

In the span of but a few moments, he’d lost her all over again despite never having had her to begin with.

It took some convincing for Ben to finally get Homelander to stop reading and take a break. Help me with dinner, he’d asked once his love finally calmed down.

John seemed worlds away as they worked, not even realizing how he was reacting to what went on inside his mind. Benjamin realized he probably should’ve just let Homelander relax and collect himself.

“Babe,” he murmured, thumbing away a stray tear on his cheek. “That’s not how we salt the pasta.” A joke was all he could muster to try to alleviate something. “You can go sit down or something if you’re still working through it, y’know. You don’t have to–”

“No,” Homelander interrupted. “I’d rather be here.” He reached up to hold Ben’s hand against his cheek, staring back into those chocolatey eyes that always warmed him to his core. “Can you just… I– Give me something that I gotta focus on. C’mon, spoil me a little.”

Used to be that he’d take that offer and sulk. Let his sorrows drown him bit by bit until he was right back at square one - just as miserable as the day he’d lost himself. Ben always encouraged him to channel his negativity into something productive, but he never followed through. Never picked up hobbies beyond reading history books and watching movies.

But now..?

“Chef Johnny,” Ben grinned, proud as could be of his love. “You’re gonna learn to make a mean margherita pasta today.”

He figured he’s changed quite a bit over the years after all.

Homelander struggled to balance his focus against the raging thoughts of his mind. Minding the aromatics sizzling in the pan while flashes of what they’d done to his mother jarred him. Focusing on Ben’s instructions on what to add, what seasonings paired best with the chicken, the gentleness of his love’s touch as he held his hand to show him how to properly rock a knife to cut fresh herbs.

In the back of his head, he saw her. His mother, wired to those machines just as the doctors had done to him. Instead of what he’d always imagined - hugging her - he saw something else. Heard something else as he saw her, felt Ben’s hands on his.

Mom… I made it.

In the weeks following, Benjamin helped him absorb the rest of what happened. Sat with him while he wept over the siblings he’d never know, the grief of knowing he wasn’t the first, the relief of knowing he was - hopefully - the last.

It was a lot. A lot of crying. A lot of anger. Misery. Resentment.

But he worked through it.

The web-head eventually returned to his regular crime fighting antics and balanced his home life once more. In the meantime, he’d commissioned a headstone. There was so little to go off of, and no body to bury, but it felt right to put her to rest in at least some way. This, he kept a secret from Homelander.

It was a surprise for later.

Once the time came that the cemetery notified him that it was in place, Ben nagged Homelander all day to go for a walk. Well, more like a swing.

“C’mon, it’s important!” He whined. “You’ll like it.”

“We can have a date inside, you know.” Homelander huffed. He was perfectly content not suffocating in crowds of people, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Yeah, but inside doesn’t have what I wanna show you,” Ben stuck his lower lip out. “It’ll be quick. I’ll swing us there. Land in a nice smelly alley. Just a walk across the street, okay?”

Homelander sighed, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.”

“Great!” Ben chirped, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek. “Be ready in a few.”

The swing there was leisurely. It included a stop by a flower shop for roses, which Homelander questioned endlessly.

”You don’t need to buy me flowers,” he feigned a complaint.

”You’ll see.” That was all Ben had to say on the matter before they were back in the air.

He clung to Ben like a leech as they sliced through the air, high enough to avoid being photographed, but low enough that Homelander’s renewed fear of heights didn’t have him on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He focused on the flowers he’d been holding in a death grip. Pressed them against Ben’s back and stared into the petals.

When they finally landed in the promised smelly alleyway, Homelander furrowed his brow. From the path to the sidewalk, he could make out a graveyard.

“Ben?”

His little spider held out a hand without a word, leading him out, across the street, and through the iron gate.

He had an inkling of what was coming, but it felt like something out of a movie. Holding hands with the love of his life, walking through a monument of lives long gone, feeling the autumn breeze gust through the knitting of his sweater.

Homelander practically fell to his knees when they came upon it. His legs wobbled as he approached, flower stems creaking under the grip of his fist. He let his fingers touch the stone, tracing the letters engraved into the face.

Gillman

192?-1986

He hugged it. Didn’t know what overcame him, didn’t even know he’d done it until the cold marble pressed against his cheek. Didn’t even care that it pressed his glasses harshly into his temple.

He hugged his mother.

Homelander didn’t hear the shuffling of leaves under Ben’s shoes, but the hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Thought she deserved it, y’know?” Ben murmured, thumbing against John’s blue sweater. Part of him worried his lover would’ve been upset - maybe gave him grief over the fact she wasn’t actually in there. ”You deserve this, too.” He pressed a kiss to Homelander’s hair, then stood. “I’ll give you some space…”

Benjamin was ready to go for a stroll until a hand caught him by the sleeve, tugging him back down.

John was silent for a time, simply resting his forehead against the chilled stone, warmed by Benjamin’s arms draped around his neck. Ben figured he was simply thinking it instead of speaking, but then…

“I made it, mom.” With the love of his life embracing him, and his arms around her headstone, he pulled from the depths of his heart.

“I’m home.”

#homelander #depowered homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys #antony starr #this took literal weeks to write and plan sjdfhlakshfd

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years

Text

Otis B Driftwood x AFAB!Baby'sBestFriend!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Kissing Lessons.

Notes:

This is inspired by a side plot in Louise Rennison's Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging- set on fire.

So this is also a very different style then I usually write in- I felt it worked better for this story. I hope its alright ^^

This might get a second part.

Plot: You went to you best friends’ big brother to learn how to kiss, because he seems just the right kind of freak to actually agree to it- and he did! It worked! Problem is... now he cant stop kissing you.

You’ve made a big ass mess of your life with the help of Otis fucking Driftwood and its just going to get worse before it even possibly gets better.

Warnings: Smut (Semi-Public, Unprotected, Grimy, Nasty Otis Fucking. The smut part is also in red in case you wanted to avoid it), disloyalty, Otis being his gross self, writing that is as feral as this the Firefly family, etc.

In hind sight, having your best friends big brother teach you how to kiss was not one of your best plans. It would absolutely not be in the hall of fame. But you were desperate! You had finally found a guy that you liked, who was nice, and you wanted your first kiss with him to be good!- If he ever made a move… And seeing as you had never actually kissed anyone before… you figured that you needed some help, with that.

Otis was not the first name that came to mind when you had thought about who to ask for help. Honestly, first, you had thought of Baby herself. You two were very open with each other, having known each other your whole lives- you even get changed in the same room sometimes! And its no big deal! In fact you had full intentions to ask her help that fateful morning you turned up at the Firefly house.

… But- then Otis answered the door. Otis, who had always been just Baby’s asshole older brother since you could remember. Otis, who thought he understood the darkness of the human psyche and was not shy in saying so. Otis.

And it all clicked into place.

If anyone was going to make out with you and not consider it a gateway to romance, or sex, but as merely educational, it was Otis. He understood stuff like this- you were sure, he would be cool about it.

And he was, after you asked to talk with him alone and… awkwardly… explained your situation. He did make a joke or two about you just wantin’ to kiss him as he sat himself down on his bed, knees spread wide and leered in amusement at you, but agreed with a casual shrug. It wouldn’t be a big deal at all, its not like he didn’t tease you mercilessly already when you came over. Otis was just an asshole; That’s how he was.

So you had sat down next to him, unbelievably nervous as he stared at you - God, the way he stares, it feels like he’s staring directly into the darkest pits of your soul. And that’s an understatement, - motionlessly; Waiting for something. Waiting for you to make the first move, perhaps? I was he just messing with you? All you remember clearly is how hard your heart had been racing in the moment and how dark - and musty. Goddamn, does he never clean?? - his bedroom was (You had never been in there before. It was just the locked door at the end of the hall your whole life, no matter which house the family were staying in at the time).

Another moment passed before you, sick to death of this anxiety game he was cruelly playing, looked up at him from your lap and opened up your mouth to snap at him- and he’d kissed you. Just dipped down, smothered your shocked mouth with his and shoved his tongue in.

… You remember thinking oh god- no step one??, then choking. Luckily though that did not put Otis off (Another reason that he was the perfect choice, at the time), he didn’t even give you time to recoup; He just swallowed your cry and sucked you in closer- kissing you with such vigour you had to reach up and grasp his shoulders in order to steady your damn self.

It was such an awkward kiss! Honestly, it was humorous how horrible it was. It was the epitome of that lame girl in those gross teen books so desperate to be wanted that she lets her best friends brother slobber over her on his race car bed and would later regret it.

Except, well, you were both adults, there was no race car bed, and you weren’t about to give up so fucking easily.

You were going to learn how to kiss! And just because Otis was nasty about it didn’t mean he didn’t know base-level How To. He knew more than you did, at least, that was for sure.

So you forced yourself to rest your hands on his chest instead, relax against him (Stop fighting him with stiff lips and straight back), and let him lead - and oh boy did he lead, fuck. That man kisses rough, -, which was a struggle as a strategy but eventually rewarding. Every now and then the bastard would mumble in that husky voice of his to loosen the fuck up, or open your mouth more, or eventually- get up on here, as he tugged you towards his lap. You’d sighed, in frustration, and climbed on top of him, thighs around his slim waist. It didn’t feel sexy, at the time. Didn’t feel like crossing a line… just felt like Otis was being annoying and this was how to shut him up!

Thinking back, you admit… that may have been your first mistake.

That went on for about an hour… and the next day, you had a kissing rash all over the bottom half of your face. You refused to leave your home, so Baby came inevitably came by to see if you doin’ okay. You told her you were sick and it was contagious so she couldn’t come in, but she didn’t leave and you just felt guilty as hell, wincing in there all alone with your best friend standing outside talking to you; Ignorant of what was really going on.

Things just got worse from there.

Now no matter how you approached Otis from then on while visiting the house, whether you actually spoke to him or just waived - acting normal, like it was supposed to still be, -, things were… off. He would flash you a dirty smirk when Baby wasn’t looking, or grab your ass suddenly and you would have to act normal so no one else would realise, or say off things that caused Baby to think and you to inwardly panic. And what was even worse than any of that?

He. Kept. Kissing you. And its not like you could tell him to stop! That would just be too awkward, and… you didn’t have the strength to go through that with the asshole… yep…

It seemed that whenever you were alone in the Firefly-Spaulding-Driftwood residence, Otis would sniff you out and have you pressed against a wall or the couch cushions with his mouth on you - your lips, your neck… and even your ankle, once when he couldn’t get close to you and then back to his spot before Baby would be back! He just yanked your leg up from where he was sitting at the end of the couch, held it up long enough to make you panic, then quickly pecked and unceremoniously dropped it again, -, and it got so bad, you started getting so flustered by it, that you started holding your pee in while you were there. You were not going let that bastard catch you heading to the bathroom, if you could help it. This caused a few awkward arguments between Baby and you when she noticed you weren’t going to the toilet at all and tried to insist you go to the goddamn bathroom and you outright refused. Her mind was boggled but you were stubborn.

You also started acting weird in other ways, too, so much so that you really can’t blame Baby for looking at you weird every now and then- or outright mumbling freak around you.

See, Otis had started a war between the two of you, a messy one, and you weren’t going to let him win.

You would abruptly get up when Otis would enter the room and tell Baby you had to leave then, or that the two of you needed to relocate immediately.

During family dinner’s that you would attend, you would start acting - and feeling, - squirrely when Otis would just speak and as a result would pick the stupidest arguments with him that he would be far-too-happy to partake in with you.

The polite waives you would throw him your whole life turned into middle fingers.

And a whole amalgamation of other thins that just came together into making Baby think you were losing your freaken marbles.

But- But, the most horrible thing about the whole crazy situation with Otis??

It started affecting your relationship with Rodney… the guy you went to Otis for. The reason you needed to learn how to kiss. The most beautiful, kind, sexy man in the world.

Otis started acting totally unlike himself when he saw you and Rodney together, or heard you or Baby so much as mention Rodney. And the messing with you when no one’s looking thing? That especially applied to the times you were spending with Rodney. It started with having his hand firmly groping your inner thigh under the table as he ‘chatted’ with Rodney in that antisocial and threatening way that he does, and developed into tongue-fucking your throat behind walls. You truly believed Otis got off on making you feel like a shit- because one time you felt his hard-on through loose jeans during a particularly rough make-out session with Rodney in the very next room, your body literally pinned to the thin wall that Rodney was on the other side of; Innocent and ignorant of the horrible thing that you were doing to him. You had shoved Otis off with all your might when you realised his dick was hard because of this, and stormed back into the room your sweetheart was waiting for you in. And ignored the uncomfortable achy feeling in your pants.

It was for Rodney, anyway. Of course.

It seriously slowed down development between you and Rodney, on top of making you guilt ridden. You started feeling exceedingly awkward when Rodney would smile at you, talk to you, or god forbid- touch you. You figured you must have gotten so used to Otis’ rough hands, that when Rodney gave your hand a gentle squeeze or stroked your hair, it didn’t feel like enough.

Not nearly enough.

You also began feeling bored just talking with Rodney- when you used to feel stimulated, and cheerful talking to him. Or, at least, you thought you used to feel that way talking to him… Honestly, you couldn’t recall. What you did recall, though, was how alive talking to fucking Otis made you feel. When you two argued, it made your heart vibrate in your chest like a jackhammer, and when you agreed on something you just couldn’t help the bright way you smiled at him (… Speaking of Otis of all people, not Rodney.).

And worst of all? You began comparing your sweet, lovely, handsome Rodney to disgusting, argumentative Otis.

And Rodney… somehow, despite your every intention and every possible handicap… didn’t end up on the top of many pro columns???

“Ugh,” You groan, frustrated almost to the point f tears one night as you plop down violently onto the slashed up, stain covered couch the Fireflies owned at the moment; Hiding your face in your hands. This is ridiculous…

You’re fucking everything up. Your possible romantic interest… your friendship with Baby… and even the comfortably lacking relationship you used to have with Otis. You didn’t have much, he was just your best friends mean older brother, but it had been comfortable…

And now that was certainly out the window.

Its possible you could still save the other two things, though… You really should be honest. You should do it; March back up to Baby’s bedroom now and tell her everything- and she can help you figure things out with Otis and Rodney.

That is… unless she hates you… for fucking around with her brother…

“Oh god… “You moan in realisation, pressing your face deeper into the safety of your hands. This is so fucked u-

“What the hell are you doing, still here?”

Oh great, you think with a deadpanned expression in your palms. Because this couldn’t get any worse. Now, Otis is seeing you in distress.

Who knows what kind of ridicule he has lined up for you.

Sighing, you remove your face from your hands and slap them down on your knees, going to push yourself up to your feet and leave. “Nothing, I was just leaving. Unfortunately, it’s inevitable that I’ll see you around, so I’ll just- “You’re about to slip around the grotty, bloody coffee table and go home, when Otis grabs your wrist; Stopping you from going anywhere. “Would you let go??”

“Naw, don’t think so. Why don’t you siddown? Haven’t seen ya all day- you been avoiding me, eh?” Closing the space between you both, Otis wraps a long - surprisingly strong, - arm around your waist and tugs you flat against his front, causing you roll your eyes deeply- leaning away. You find you’re comfortable under his touch, and its unbelievably annoying. Soon you’re going to start yearning for it- and that’s going to be hard to come back from.

“Ohh, now why would I do that??” You ask, sarcasm bleeding off your tongue as you glare at his grimy grin.

“Fucken beats me.” His voice gets low, and threatening then. And you’re not scared of him- but it does show that he’s being serious. So instead of leaning away, you finally relax into his grip and his warm, lean chest. Dark eyes flicker all over your face, searching for something. What, you don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to find it if the stern frown on his face is any reliable indicator.

“Otis… I think we need to talk.” This is worth a shot, at least. You can explain how you feel to him, how he seems to have read more into this arrangement then you meant to put out there, and maybe he’ll just let it - and you, - go. Theirs also a possibility that he’ll get offended and insult you… but even that would be better than this nightmare situation. Right?

… Yeah.

Let’s do this.

Taking in a deep breath, your move your gaze from his pale neck to his grey face and part your lips to start-

But your gaze grazes his mouth, and you lose your train of thought for a whole damn moment. “Um- “

“What happened, kitten?” He tilts his head to the side as he leans towards you, and your logical brain really starts to struggle. What were you going to say?? Like, what were the exact words??? You need to spit them out right now- “Cat got your tongue??”

May-be!!

“Otis… “You start once again, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re going to say… especially as you start leaning in closer to his face. Your eyes half lid against your will, it seems, and you hands go from being held carefully away from him to trailing up his chest and over his broad, bony shoulders. He smirks, and its over.

Your lips are breath away, and within the span of a millisecond- they aren’t anymore. His hands disappear into the back pockets of your jeans as you mash your lips together; Tilting your head to the opposite way that he did, making more maximum access, kissing Otis slowly but deeply.

It happens without you even thinking about anything but Otis- Otis and his arms, and his tongue, and his hair, and his chest, and you don’t know, just him and his warm skin through a pair of blue jeans and a dirty wife beater- but soon you’re underneath him on the couch and you’re doing a few things you never thought you would be doing.

Wiggling out of your pants in your best friends living room.

Opening up your legs for someone other then Rodney- not to mention helping that Non-Rodney person (Who, side note, isn’t wearing any damn underwear) pull their dick out of their jeans.

And letting Otis fucking Driftwood shove his fat cock into your pussy.

“Fuck!” You gasp, pain ripping through you. Its your first time, you think to yourself as you press your forehead hard into Otis’ chest, what did you expect?

Well, that’s easy. You expected to be doing this with Rodney- so you expected something gentler.

But you do suppose that Otis doesn’t move at all until you do it yourself, despite forcing himself all the way in, with the first thrust. So, there’s that. You have to give him that.

Or maybe you just want to.

When you do move, though? Having gotten comfortable, more than comfortable as your pussy once again starts aching for him - around him, now, - actually, and roll your hips up against him. Then, theirs no stopping him.

You’re made into absolute, pulverised mush as Otis fucks your virgin cunt into the couch. Its exactly like you would have imagined it, exactly how he kisses. Rough, and chasing his own pleasure with a total disregard for common curtesy. He makes your pussy absolutely weep as he thrusts hard and fast in and out of you- and slams his mouth to rock against yours once again when you start making noises. Meanwhile you are absolutely helpless to do anything but try to kiss him back, to try keep him with him - just like the first time in his bedroom, - , and offer your hips up further to meet his cock and balls when they sweep down.

Because you can’t have that. Not now, not today, not here. This could turn into an absolute disaster if anyone were just stroll into the living room. God what if someone saw this? you suddenly worry, but through the haze of lust you really can’t pull your logical brain into action. You really can’t.

“Shhh-shhh, now, baby,” Otis suddenly hisses deeply into your ear, breath hot and damp and uncomfortable against your skin. His lips leave a few open-mouthed kisses to your neck while he’s there, between panting. Oh god, you whine- this man should not be able to make you feel this way. “Don’t wan’ anyone- “Puff. “- hearing this, doya? I know ya don’t… “Puff, puff.

“Shhh,” You hush him back, mostly if the lewd sounds of Otis ramming into your hole don’t alert anyone of funny business, then his utterly obnoxious need to speak, definitely will- but also because you have to fight back. Even in this condition- you need to snap back at him.

Even all-pathetic, like you are right now. With your legs spread as wide as they’ll go as to give him all-access.

“I wish- “Otis continues. “I wish- your little fuckweed could see this. Pretty little Y/N with yer slutty little ‘flower’- betcha that’s what he’d call it by the way- wrapped around ol’ Otis’ pecker, huh? Hah… How’d he react, doya think?” A strong hand with rough callouses reaches down to your groin and sloppily rubs your own fucking spunk all over the both of you. Your pussy begins absolutely squeezing him, milking his cock for everything its worth. “Ya think he’d faint?? Or- maybe- join in?”He lowers his voice even more, then as he leans even closer to your ear. “… Well, I wouldn’t let him.”

Then, abruptly, Otis lets go a hot loud into you and the sensation along with his words, has you coming as well against him- and he pays real attention to your face, as you do. Stares at you once again in that soul-sucking way that he’s perfected.

It makes you feel naked, and even more vulnerable than you already were.

He doesn’t leave your warmth until he’s totally softened, which is an odd but even more weirdly pleasant sensation… but then he yanks himself out, leaving you so suddenly empty you feel uncomfortable and drags your pants back up over your hips- leaving you, with the mess in your underwear. Of course, you roll your eyes, just laying there as the asshole slips to the end of the couch. Honestly, your legs are feeling a little numb, and you’re tired, so… you may need a moment, here.

Plus, you need to stew in your own horny, evil idiocy for a moment. Because god… now you’ve actually slept with Otis! Now, that’s a line that you really… that you’ve thoroughly crossed. You can’t come back from this.

Baby is going to hate you… Rodney’s going to be disgusted by you… And all you got is a pair of underwear you have to throw out now and a misplaced virginity.

“Ughh… “You groan, throwing an arm over your face in frustration. What’s is wrong with you??? Because never mind what’s wrong with Otis - you already knew that he was messed up (That’s pretty clear), -, but you should know better! You’ve got half a logical brain, you aren’t absolutely batshit insane, and you try your best to be sensible!

But then as soon as this rat man, you think, flashing a glare Otis’ way as you push yourself up to your elbows and he chews on the end of a lit roll-up, hunched over his knees, just enters the room… all that goes out the window!

Otis catches your scowl, double takes, and then smirks around the cigarette. “Regret comin’ to me for those kissin’ lessons, now?”

“Yes.” You snap, nose scrunched up like a toddler. No doubt about it.

“Want me to give yer virginity back?”

Rolling your eyes, you huff. “If you could, yeah.”

“And- doya despise me yet, sweetheart?”

Frowning deeply then, you think, No… But you both know that, somehow. So instead you give him your worst stink face before flopping back down, annoyedly, onto the cushions. Your voice is considerably gentler, though; Weak. “Getting there… “

He just chuckles, returning his attention to his cancer stick.

#Otis B Driftwood x AFAB!Baby'sBestFriend!Reader Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood x AFAB!Reader Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood x Baby'sBestFriend!Reader Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood x Reader Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood x Reader #Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood #Otis Driftwood #Otis Driftwood x Reader #Baby Firefly #Smut #Horror Villains Oneshot #Horror Villain Oneshot #Horror Villains #Horror Villain x Reader #Horror Villains x Reader #Horror Villain

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