#and businesses certainly aren’t the fucking answer.
Text
— His stress reliever
Pairing || yandere John Price x gn reader
Summary || being Captain's favorite soldier has its cons, one being that he wants to fuck you every chance he gets.
Warnings || Yandere behavior, talks about the reader having signs of PTSD, dub-con, possessiveness, oral (Price received), drugging (by syringe), spit used as lube, abuse of authority, slight choking kink. Also talks about readers wearing boxers (Who wouldn't? They are comfy af).
You swallowed thickly, hovering your knuckle over the door before knocking gently. “You wanted to see me, Captain?” you say through the door.
You hear a grunt, before his chair squeaking; his thick voice speaking up, “Come in.” he calls back, and you try to still your hand as it reaches for the doorknob.
Every time he calls for you, you can’t predict what will happen. Sometimes he’s all work, no play, giving you assignments like he does the rest of the 141 with a straight face and serious look in his eyes.
Other reasons, it’s for less business. More fucking. He starts slowly, offering you a nice glass of scotch before making you suck his cock.
It wasn't anything you were used to; he used you like a fucktoy. Making sure to call you a cunt, his whore, and his Sargeant.
He cums down your throat within minutes, his come salty yet delicious. If he’s kind enough, he fucks all of your holes and leaves you filled. Eating you out before starting all over again.
You faked a cough as you pushed open the door, reminding yourself to keep calm. And as you came in, and shut the door, you quickly saw paperwork stacked on his desk; which, you, cursed at yourself.
You wish someone was here, but everyone had gone home. Missions had been kicking ass and everyone deserved a break.
Especially you. But you doubted you were going to get one any time soon.
“I really hope you aren’t banning me from training again,” you laugh out, pulling the cushioned chair out of his desk as you sat in it — Price leaning back in his own, cigar curled in mouth as his bucket hat is hung behind him.
He let out a dry laugh, “Nothin’ like that again, don’t worry.”
You watch him closely as he huffs the cigar out, quickly putting it out on the dish before getting up, and pouring himself a glass of scotch.
He, of course, grabs another glass, making sure to fill it high enough — then, he pushes the second-full one towards you. “How you holdin’ up?”
“Fine.” you reply, trying not to think too hard about the last few weeks. You bit your tongue, wanting to ask why you were here. But with his quiet and demanding demeanor, plus the sly share of his beloved alcohol, it was obvious what he was going to demand.
He raised his glass, giving you that certain look before you took after him and took a sip.
The burn of the scotch now going down your throat and your nervous state was making it worse than it should. His prying eyes kept you on the edge of your seat.
“Ya’ know,” he starts, “I’ve been missin’ you, darlin’.” he finishes meekly, his eyes traveling down to your unfinished glass, and your thighs before back up to your face. “Been avoiding me like the plague, did I do somethin’?”
Your face gets hot, but you quickly think of an answer to his intense gaze. “Just been… busy, y’know?”
“Ah…” Price says, clicking his tongue. “Well, who’s been keepin’ you busy?” he inquires, eyes deepening with his question. “It certainly ain’t me– and whoever it is, you do understand the last time you tried going on a date, somethin’ bad did happen.”
You cleared your throat at his calm threat. And from the way he grunted at your reaction, realization struck you like a rod as he, the person you had to follow orders from, knew you were purposely ignoring him.
And, I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a man of dignity. A man of strength, — your Captain, many men who looker up too, loves to abuse his power, always reminding that you owed him.
Price would constantly remind you that until you relented. It didn’t matter how close the two of you were, because, at the end of the day, he dangled your freedom over you.
Before you could say anything, he added on: “Besides, we both know what will happen if you go out of your orders I placed — right?”
Your throat feels dry. He was looking at you so closely. Like he could see through you, right to how fast your heart was beating. Or how he could see your thoughts in a cloud above your head, as clear and thick as the smoke in front of him.
You could only nod before finding the courage to speak up. An act of bravery and need of escaping pulling at your legs, making them bleed violently.
“Captain, I—”
“—It’s John,” he interrupted, heaving a heavy sigh.
You suck in a low breath at the sound of his first name. Your eyes nearly flutter shut. You nodded again, cursing yourself at the obedient behavior.
“Good.” he laughs, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. You watch him intently, smoke curling and fogging in front of his face. Ash drops onto the desk, and his giant hands swipe it away quickly.
“So,” John starts, his hands resting on the table, “Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or am I gonna find out the hard way?”
Goosebumps traveled from your spine up to your tongue, sizzling it shut with a steak; the never-ending screaming in your head.
“I—” you started, pausing with a sharp inhale, “...didn’t mean to ignore you,” you snapped, biting your lips as his eyebrow quirked. “I—I’ve been dealing with some... things.”
He grunts. An obvious noise of him asking you to continue on.
You turn your gaze to the floor. Fingers already making their way to your nails, picking at them. A habit you were trying to break. You pinched your nail, eyebrows creasing in shame before speaking.
“I’m just saying, Ca—John. Not meant as a jab at you or anything. But, I just wasn’t expecting company later in the day. I’m tired.”
He didn’t reply. The both of you sat in silence for a few seconds before he nodded; leaning back in his chair with a large squeak.
“Tired, yeah?” he hummed out, to which, your eyes nearly shut completely, feeling the warmth of his hand on yours.
His hand covers yours completely, thumb automatically starting to trace along your knuckles. They’re still covered from the fading bruises of the last mission, and he pays extra care not to press too hard.
His eyes stay on your touching hands, the rough pads of his fingers drawing aimless lines on your skin. “So, that’s all? Ya’ haven’t been getting enough sleep?”
“I haven’t.” You confessed quickly at his question. Your voice is hardly above a whisper.
You couldn’t sleep, not with the continuous night terrors. Waking up in a cold sweat. Tears fell as you gasped for air. Hiccups and the feeling of an elephant standing on top of your chest. It was terrible. Just like the man in front of you.
Yet, you somehow loved him. Craved his attention and praises like gold in a mine shaft.
“I can help if ya’ want. More than I can chalk up to just admiration,” he responds, his voice strained. Only then, when you finally look up at him, his pupils nearly overtake his eyes. “I want— need to help you the right way.”
You couldn’t get anything in, your mouth open and ready to say something; but he continued.
“I need you, love.” he immediately expresses, a gentle smile appearing before he leans back, taking a few more puffs of the cigar like a reflex. Something you knew too well.
You hum, “I assume you mean…” you trailed off, nodding your head at his obvious bulge in the rather tight pants. It looks like it hurt; probably does.
It wasn’t hard to ignore. Not with the way of his legs man-spread amongst his seat. How he was tilting his head at your adoring face, taking another drag of his cigar, making you watch his mouth intensely, letting your eyes linger with the dare of his confession.
“Well, can’t deny a confession to ya’ pretty body, now can I?”
He smirked darkly before standing up, rounding behind you as he pushed your chair back, clearing the distance around the table in two steps.
You knew what he wanted. The ways his eyes lingered too far down. How his hands automatically attached to your shoulders. How his black boots were still covered in thick dirt and mud, tracking footsteps all over the hard wooden floor, and you had a feeling he wouldn’t take them off anytime soon.
You follow him instinctively, getting up from your cushioned seat as his giant fingers trailed down to your hips; a grunt coming out of him as your hand glided over his clothed bulge.
“Get on ya’ knees, pretty thing.”
Dark eyes stared at you as you made it to your shaky knees, taking note on how he leaned his lower back on the table for support; forearm flexing on top of the desk, the sunset shining around him like a God.
You unzipped his pants, undoing the belt. Fingers working deftly as you pulled the cargo pants down. And within seconds, your face heats up — looking at the outline of his leaning cock inside the boxers, your hot breath making it throb.
His green boxers, which you’ve grown to know well, were stained with pre-cum, and the dark patches made you bite your tongue, — the outline of his cock was hypnotizing.
Already, your thighs were trembling and the flame in your sex was rising. A need of something. But yet, you had to treat the Captain first. He always cums first, no?
You dragged your fingers down the band of his boxers, before releasing his half-hard cock to the air. He let out a shaky groan, and leaned his head back.
“Fuck—”
His pants and boxers thudded against the floor, you licked your lips before your hands gripped his warmed and hairy, yet muscled thighs; breathing on his head before kissing his tip, which, his hand immediately flew to the back of your head as you wrapped your fist around the base of his cock.
Slowly, you started licking and tracing a finger on the underside of his cock.
He released a guttural moan and curved his fingers into your scalp. You started to pump your fist around his shaft as you swirled your wet muscle around his flushed tip.
You slip him deeper between your lips, feeling your cheek sucking the length that could fit in. It made him groan, already sensitive from the pent-up work earlier today. God, do you know what you do to him?
“Shit, yeah. Jus’ like that hun’.”
You felt him swell up in your mouth, the veins on his cock pulsing against your wet tongue and cheeks, — the salty, and thick taste of pre-cum staining inside of your mouth.
Bobbing your head back and down, you take him further down your throat, gagging. And that makes him curse, his British accent coming out as he gripped your head harder and deeper.
You moved your head faster, feeling drool slide out of the corners of your mouth whilst your hand worked on the part you couldn’t reach.
His stomach clenches rapidly, his groaning echoing throughout his office. “Fuck, what would I do without ya’, huh?”
Thick balls were slapping against your chin with every thrust. His unkept pubic-hair was itching your nose, but you couldn't say anything.
Not with your mouth stuffed with his cock.
Price begins to jerk his hips roughly in your face, repositioning himself to really start fucking you — which, sent his cock lodging down your throat. His desire crawling for more, exciting chills sending down his spine. You muffled a scream, the surprise when both of his large hands, who were originally on the table, were now supporting the side of your head, throwing your face back and forth in a ritual motion.
You choked, bubbling in the back of your throat as your hands started to grasp tighter around his thick thighs. Nails indenting and scratching for air. But he didn’t care. He kept going. He loved that he could see your spit dribbling down your chin, and cheek as well as smearing against his cock
Tears begin to roll down your face, and Price grunts loudly whilst he face-fucked you; his movements getting rougher and uneven, grip tightening around your head which made you focused on breathing through your nose.
“What a good sergeant, yeah - you so are.”
His thighs started to quake, getting tighter before his right hand removes itself, repositioning on supporting him on the desk behind him, and using the other hand to grasp the nape of your neck; throwing his head back while a harsh moan tumbles from his lips.
“Gonna blow—”
Hot strings of cum floods down, coating your tongue. You swallow, obediently listening to Captain rules. He keeps his hand on your neck, grasping some small pieces of your hair.
His groans were long, and deep. His blue eyes stare down at you, “Make sure ya’ swallow all it.”
You nodded, eyes watering more as you swallowed the rest. Before you know it, he lets go of you, and you gasp out; coughing lightly and rubbing the back of your neck as it hurts.
Unknowingly to you, your boxers were damp. Your crotch was flaming hot, and it was getting harder to ignore. But you couldn’t do anything. Not without his permission.
Both of you sat in silence. A sign of remembering and his torture.
“God,” he starts, his cock resting against the beefy abdomen of his. “You do too well,” He adds, as his head strains down to look at you before scrunching his eyebrows together at your massaged and uncomfortable state. “Did I hurt you, sweet’eart?”
You nodded, forcing a cough. Your throat hurt. But it didn’t matter. You delivered a lovely gift to Cap, didn’t you?
He noded with a slight frown, before leaning down to grasp your forearm — easily pulling you up as he helped you steady yourself, hands going on your hips as you regained center of gravity from the horror of a ride.
Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look up to him. And his eyes were predatory, flashed with lust. And you could tell he wasn’t satisfied nor finished.
“You did well, hun’,” he started, wiping away the leftover spit you didn’t get. “But, I’m still pretty hungry. So, hop on the desk, won’t ya?”
He left no room for questioning or begging to stop because when he said that, his hands immediately wrapped around your waist and lifted you up onto the desk despite your size. The added weight makes the desk squeak.
Price hummed in your ear, hands desperately yanking off your standard military T-shirt, and tactical pants. He threw them to the floor, as well as your boxers.
He chuckled, seeing your thighs trembling and smeared with your own slick. It was funny, really. Even though you say you despite him, look at you. A mess is what you are.
Starting gently, a surprise that came to you, Price kissed and sucked at your skin; hot breath blowing at your neck, ready to devour you at any given second.
“Ya’ drive me mad, love.” he states, giving your skin one last bite before mumbling into your skin to lay back — not caring that his papers will be damp by the end of this.
He removed the glasses of scotch and placed it on the floor; immediately driving his attention back to you and your soaked thighs.
“Le’s get you attention that you deserve, hm?”
You hesitantly nodded, and he frowns; his beard shining in the orange lightening of the dawn. “Don’t be like that, M’ promise I’ll be gentle.”
He unraveled his hand from your naked knee and spat in it; sliding your thighs apart and pushing you backwards until your legs popped with how far you’re spread.
He lubricated your hole, a finger entering despite your squeak that you erupted; which he smirked at. Price always enjoyed how loud you get after the first finger.
His other hand went to his cock, starting to jerk it off — redirecting it towards your hole.
You gasped, feeling it prod and tease you; coating himself in his spit, own pre-cum, and your own slickness before he lines his tip with your ready and awaiting entrance.
Price’s gentle but rough exterior came down, his giant hands rubbing your hip as he whispers within your ear, “I’ll go easy on ya. Jus’ this time, since you’re tired.”
Your breath hitches in your throat when without warning, he plunges his length deep within your cavern; the force of him has you jolt forward and sob out a cry.
A throaty groan escapes him as he feels your warm and tight hole accommodating his whole cock. He stills for a few seconds to appreciate how you feel around him.
“Shit, love, you feel incredible.”
He pulls out till only his tip is in you before he forces himself in again, doing so a few times to build up his strength. His hips snap against your chest in a rough rhythm; the sound of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the office, and your hands tightly pull on Price’s hips closer to meet his erratic thrusts.
“Fuck—!” you whine, leaning your head back on the edge of the desk.
And within a second, Price connects his lips onto yours — the kiss quickly turning into a sloppy one, as his thick tongue slips in and he starts to really fuck you into oblivion.
The desk starts to rattle, some of the containers and pens instantly falling to the floor as his hips brutally meets yours; your moans getting louder and louder as you felt your abdomen feel incredibly tight. A pit of lava landing on you as he kept fucking you.
It feels so good that it hurts, but still, you never want him to stop using you like he is now. Your eyes closed in bliss as Price has his way with you.
“Love it when ya’ captain fucks you raw? Huh?” he grunts, and you frankily nodded at his stern question. When did you not?
It’s wrong on so many levels for you to enjoy your Captain fucking you like this. But you can’t deny that you love every single second of it. Especially now, when nobody is around, and it’s just the two of you.
“—aptain—god!” you babble, feeling his large hand gently wrap around your throat and cup your pulse point, extending your head further as his teeth started to nick at your collarbone.
Usually, you’d whine. But you didn’t care. Not at this second.
“You’re mine, you’re fucking mine, ya’ here me?” his hips slap rapidly into your raw and sore hips as he utters those possessive words. “No one gets to touch— or treat you better. You got that?”
“Yes- Cap!”
He heaved, chucklng at your obediant behavior as he kissed your sweaty forehead; spreading your thighs even more apart as his large length penetrated you faster.
Your entire body was sizzling. Finegrtips and thighs zapping. And his tip brushing that spot has your whole body shudder in ecstasy. His fingers toying with your body, pulling at your nipples added to the sensations.
You felt your abdomen tighten and stomach bloom with pleasure; everything becoming too much. You struggled to get the words, his permision to cum with how he clutched your throat, bracing himself for his own release.
“Shit— gonna blow again, ya’ ready?” you nodded, hands tighetning around his forearm before a particular hard thrust hits that spot again, and you’re left screaming; your very own climax hitting you.
Cum — his cum — coats your puslating and tightening walls. Every of your nerves was shot, and you couldn’t help but moan silently. You can feel his hot liquid pulse, making its way down and making sure to coat every single area of red. It was addicting. So fucking addictive.
Your arms struggled to keep yourself upright on the desk as your body shook violently— eyes shut tight and tears threatening to come down your cheek at the intensity. No sound managed to escape you as Price still kept a firm hold on your pulse.
He groaned loudly, finally letting your throat go and you gasped loudly; air making its way back into your already defleated lungs.
“Sorry baby, didn’t notice hat’,” he grunts out, leaning down to be level with you.
he gently kissed your sweaty forehead, moving away some little pieces of air that were stuck, and kissed you on your monroe. You gently smiled, but forced a few coughs from discomfort.
“Tired?”
You nodded at him, and he only grumbled; hands already makingw ay to your raw thighs that are hurting.
“You lack nothing without me,” he states, and your heart banged out of your chest. Oh god, what did you do? “Good thing you belong to me, hm?” he hummed, ocean blue eyes turning into a deep blue sea — capturing you yet again in his boat, and taking you under his demand.
You hummed a quiet sound at him being so kind and gentle with you after having taken you like an animal only a few moments ago. But, you felt a slight prick on your neck; hand immedialty going to your neck, and seeing a droplet of blood. The fuck?
As you made eye contact with Price, your vision quickly got blurry — everything becoming slow and too much of a jumpstart to move. Your ears started ringing. And before you know it, it turned black and you fell back gently.
Of course, Price caught you. Ensuring that you’d awake comfortably and full.
He did say you were his, did he not?
—
Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!
© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
#kokeshi!!#yandere blog#yandere x reader#yandere male#male yandere#yandere#yandere smut#yandere john#yandere price#yandere john price#yandere mw2#yandere cod#yandere call of duty#yandere x gn reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#john price#dark! john price#dark! mw2#dark! john x reader#dark!fic#john price x reader#price x reader#price x gn reader#mw2 smut#dark smut#captain price#yandere x you#price x you#captain john price#captain john price x reader
737 notes
·
View notes
Text
dark side of the moon⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ [chapter 1]
Pairing: yakuza!Levi x f!reader
Word count: 4.6k
Summary:
Neo Tokyo, 2235. You’ve escaped the festering wasteland that is Earth for Mars, to a city where only the strong survive, and everybody has secrets.
Taking on a job as a hostess, you woo the city’s elite, your smile hiding your own dark past. When your path crosses with Levi Ackerman, said to be the strongest member of the Ackerman yakuza clan, you’re not sure whether to consider him a friend or a foe.
Because in this city, nothing is what it seems.
And the past never stays buried.
Author's note: I will be using Japanese words and phrases periodically and will have a glossary of terms at the end of the chapter.
Series Content/Warnings: mafia/yakuza AU, flashbacks, slow burn, mystery, cyberpunk, sci fi, non-binary Hange Zoe, eventual smut, dark content, graphic violence and sexual content, minors do not interact!
Chapter Content/Warning: mentions of blood, physical assault
next chapter/masterlist/AO3
Blood is thicker than you thought it would be.
A sea of dark red surrounds you, soaking your clothes and the floor around you.
Someone’s saying your name, but all you can hear is the thunder of your own heart beat.
“Hey. Look at me. Do you remember what I promised? That I was never going to let anything bad happen to us again. We swore that we would always be there for each other.
No matter what happens, I promise that I will protect you.
I’ll fix this.”
.
.
.
“Oi you alive? Can you hear me?” A voice said.
You snapped back to reality. Get it together. Don’t fuck this up.
“Sorry…could you repeat that?”
The person in front of you takes off their glasses and cleans them with the edge of their shirt. “I said, you’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from?”
You shift in your chair. You knew that you were going to stand out from the other inhabitants of Neo Tokyo the moment you arrived here.
“I um..I’m from Earth.”
Their eyes go wide. “Earth? That shithole? I didn’t know there were still settlements there. How did you even earn a ticket to get to Mars?” You open your mouth to reply, but they put their hand out. “Don’t answer that - it’s none of my business.”
Obviously your planet of birth has made you intriguing; hopefully intriguing enough that they’ll give you a job. They look you up and down like you were a science experiment. “And why would an Earthling such as yourself want to work here, at Club Azure?”
“I’m a hard worker and a quick learner. And I need to make money fast.”
“Mmmhmmm… you can definitely do that here, if the guests like you,” they smile, “and you certainly would be a unique curiosity.” Brown eyes gleam behind their glasses, “But why do you really want to work here?”
There’s a silence as you think about what to say, but decide you might as well tell the truth. “This line of work doesn’t require me to have Mars citizenship papers.”
“And there it is,” they nod, seeming satisfied with your honesty. “It’s true, we don’t really care about those things here. In return, we expect our employees to be…discreet about our clientelle’s information and other business that goes on here.”
“I can be discreet.”
“Is that so?” The brunette leans back in their chair and gives you another once-over, their finger tapping their chin. “You’re unique, and there’s a certain something about you… I’m certain the boss is really gonna love you,” they say out loud, more to themself than to you.
If they aren’t the boss, you wonder who is.
“Ok, you’re hired.” They reach their hand across the desk and towards you.
A heavy sigh escapes your lips; you hadn’t realized that you’d been holding your breath slightly. Your hand meets theirs and they shake it vigorously. “The name’s Hange Zoe. I run this fine establishment,” they say with pride. “And what should I call you?”
“My name is —“
Hange immediately puts their finger to your lips. “Nuh uh uh, you weren’t about to give me your real name, were you?” They click their tongue. “It’s best that you don't do that. If the authorities come skulking around asking questions, the less I know about you, the better.”
“Oh…I see.”
Seems that there’s a lot about this world that you don’t know.
“We need to give you a stage name. Let’s see..” They’re tapping their chin again. “…flower names are always a good choice. What’s your favorite flower?”
“Flower? I’ve never seen one of those before.”
“Oh right..you’re from Earth. It’s been a ruined wasteland for a long time..I guess you wouldn’t have ever seen them. Not that we have them here, either..” Hange stands up from their desk and begins to pace the floor of the small, cramped office. “What are your interests? Any hobbies?”
“I don’t have any hobbies but..” a smile comes to your face, “..on Earth, I loved to look up at the moon.”
“The moon? Hah! That orb is just an exclusive country club for the rich and famous. If your goal is to get there then you have another thing coming.”
You shake your head. “No, nothing like that. But when I was small, me and my si—” you stop. You’re getting too personal. Hange notices, but says nothing. “I mean, I would sit out and look at the moon for hours. I just wanted to escape.”
“And it looks like you’ve done that.” Suddenly Hange’s face brightens. “Luna! That’s what we’ll call you.”
They put their hand on top of your head. “Our little Earthling…let’s get you introduced to the rest of the group and get you dressed for tonight.”
Your eyes go wide. “Wait…I’m starting tonight?”
“Do you have something better to do?” They wait for a reply, to which you give none. “Then follow me.”
You follow Hange through the winding, narrow hall as they open a non-descript door.
“This is where the girls get changed.”
They open the door, gesturing for you to enter. Steel lockers are built around the perimeter of the room, with dressing tables and mirrors on the other side. Around you are women in various stages of undress: some have just arrived and are in their street clothes, others are walking around in their underwear, and all of them stop at some point to look you up and down. You knew you were going to stand out when you arrived in Neo Tokyo, but in the cruel, fluorescent lighting, it’s blazingly obvious. Most of the women around you have adorned their bodies with tattoos, the ink under their skin glowing brightly, making some of the images seem to move. Others have augmented their body: shining metallic arms and legs, hair and skin in every color of the rainbow…
All of it is nothing less than extraordinary.
There’s nothing extraordinary about your appearance. Your body doesn’t have a single tattoo or piercing. Your skin, eye, and hair color are ones that you were born with; your ‘human-ness’ is clearly on display for all to see.
“Presenting the hostesses of Club Azure!” The women go about their business as Hange walks you around the room. “You’ll find I’ve curated a diverse group of females who cater to every kind of taste….alien, android, and humanoid. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
One woman, putting on makeup, scoffs at the statement. “And just who have you wrangled to work here now, Hange?” She turns around to look at you, her nose scrunching up and her lips turning downward in a judgmental frown. “Or should I say, what..”
“Now, now, Ymir, be nice. Everyone!” Hange claps their hands, “Luna’s just arrived from Earth and I need you all to play nice and show her the ropes. Historia! Find her a dress that’ll fit and let her shadow you tonight.”
A petite woman with golden, glittering hair and bright, shining blue eyes turns around. White tattoo ink glows under her skin, glittering like diamonds. “Of course.” She takes your hand. “Come with me, Luna.”
She leads you to a locker on the far end of the room and presses in a code. It opens with a clink. “This was Nanaba’s locker. I figure you and she are about the same size.” She pulls out a few items and holds them against your body.
“Was? Did she leave without taking her stuff?”
Historia looks away, biting her bottom lip. Apparently your question hit a nerve. “We’re not really sure, actually. She just…disappeared after work one morning, two weeks ago. We never saw her again.”
“You’re leaving out key information, Historia,” Ymir butts in, “she should have never started fucking that guy in the Ackerman clan. That got her killed, I have no doubt.”
“Ackerman clan?”
“Ymir…hush!” Historia nudges Ymir and attempts to push her away, to no success.
“You mean, Hange didn’t tell you? We are employees of Club Azure, but this club is “protected” by the Ackerman Clan, one of the most powerful yakuza clans in Neo Tokyo. Hange might own the place, but they pull the strings. Getting involved with them is bad news.” She gives you a foreboding look. “If you see them, keep your distance.”
“Are they in here often?”
“Of course they are. They’re always skulking around, checking in on their products.”
Historia clicks her tongue, a warning to Ymir. “They’re not that bad. Just smile, be polite, and pour their drinks and you won’t have any problems with them.” Ignoring Ymir's eye roll, she pulls out a dress and hands it to you. “Here, try this on.”
You start taking your clothes off, and the women around you stop and stare. Ymir laughs, and you notice that each of her teeth have been shaped to a sharp point.
“You’re just as normal as normal can be, aren’t you? Not a single augmentation.” She walks around you as you stand there, naked and bare as their eyes judge you. “All your…parts are…real?” she asks, lifting up your arm.
You pull away and grip the dress closer to you. “Augmentations are rare and expensive on earth.”
Ymir smirks and her carnivorous teeth flash. “Well…everybody has a kink. I’m sure someone will be interested in you.”
“Ymir, that’s enough!” Historia huffs, pushing the tall, freckled woman away. By then, you’ve shimmied into the garment Historia chose for you. The tight, red dress fits your form perfectly, falling off the shoulders and highlighting your collarbone and breasts. It’s long, but a slit cuts all the way up the top of your thigh. You’ve never worn anything so elegant.
Historia looks you up and down. “A little tight, but all the better.” She pulls you over to a dressing table. “Now for the finishing touches.” She takes out some makeup and starts applying powders and creams to your face. “Hange probably wants to keep you as human as possible, so we’ll keep it simple.”
Her version of simple was very different from what you were imagining, as she adorns your cheeks with pink blush and your lips with a dark red lipstick. Your hair cascades in waves across your shoulders.
When you look in the mirror you barely recognize yourself.
“Is that me?” you ask, touching your radiant skin.
“I just enhanced what you already have. Hopefully, it’ll be good enough.” She stands and gives you another once-over, crossing her arms. “You’re still gonna stand out, but surely someone will be interested in you.”
Ymir walks by and chuckles. “This is gonna be interesting.” You scowl at her while she smiles smugly. “See you two out there,” she says, before sauntering away.
Historia takes you by the hand and leads you down a dark hall. Music is already reverberating through the walls and you can hear voices and laughter amidst the clink of glasses, which amplifies as she opens the door.
The bar is dimly lit, illuminated by a ceiling with an array of twinkling lights meant to look like the night sky. There are tables and booths with plush upholstery, some meant for larger groups while others are more private and intimate. A small stage is set up in the corner with a holographic band playing, and on the opposite end of the room, a long drink bar manned by Hange and another bartender.
And dispersed throughout are men, some young, some old, but all well-dressed, sitting and drinking with a hostess or two.
“At a hostess bar, it’s not our bodies that are for sale, but our time and attention,” Historia says, leading you through the room. “They can request a certain girl, but otherwise, we are partnered with them as they come in.”
The two of you end up at the bar, where Historia gestures for you to sit. “For the time that they’re here, it’s our job to make the guest feel like they are wanted and important - we laugh at all their stupid jokes, listen to their problems at work or at home, or just help them to get their mind off things with conversation.”
Your eyes dart from table to table, taking note of the hostesses pouring drinks, laughing and leaning into their guests, playing drinking games, or having lively talks. One girl gets up and walks over to the stage, singing as the band plays a popular song that everyone at the table seems to know.
“And that’s it?” you ask. “There’s not…more…that goes on between the guest and the hostess?”
“You mean sex?” Historia leans her chin on her hand. “Hange forbids us having sexual relationships with our guests.” Her eyes dart over to Hange as they put some drinks on a tray. “Isn’t that right?”
“Absolutely correct, my beautiful turtle dove,” they reply. “Prostitution can be procured at other clubs, but not at my fine establishment. You can flirt, make eyes, touch…” their bright eyes suddenly become serious, “but no sex.”
A wave of relief washes over you when you hear this. It’s overwhelming enough to know that you’ll have men ogling you, expecting entertainment and companionship. At least that’s all it’s expected to be.
While Hange busies themself with making another cocktail, Historia leans toward you and whispers, “It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen, though.”
That doesn’t surprise you; if a hostess’ whole job is to flirt all night long, at some point the lines must get blurred with certain customers. And you can probably make a substantial bit of extra money in taking a relationship beyond the confines of this club.
But that’s not why you’re here.
Hange pushes a tray of glasses and a bottle of alcohol across the bar to the two of you. “Ok, ladies, it’s showtime. Take these drinks over to table 12.”
Historia glances over to the table before taking the tray. “Ugh, it’s Lovof. Haven���t seen him here for a while.”
“Who’s Lovof?”
“A city councilman. We get a lot of politicians here.”
The two of you make your way to the table where Lobov is sitting with two other men. You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress, feeling more nervous the closer you get.
“Just smile and pour drinks. I’ll take care of the rest,” Historia whispers, just before making it to the table. “Lobov! It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten about us!”
She slides into the booth next to Lobov, a true thing of beauty as she smiles and bats her big, blue eyes. Her skin sparkles even more under the dimmed lighting, making her look like a true angel.
You slide in on the opposite side, sitting next to Lovof’s colleagues, but neither of them pay any attention to you as Historia takes the bottle from its chilled container and pours the golden liquid into a sparkling glass. It’s only until Historia gestures to you that they look your way, a curious look on each of their faces.
“And this is Luna.” Historia’s voice is sweet and soft, matching her angelic persona. “It’s her first night, so I’m showing her how to be a good hostess.”
“Well then, she’s learning from the very best,” Lobov says, his snake-like eyes slinking from Historia to look you over.
One of the men squints, then takes off his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “This plain-looking thing? Where in the galaxy did you find her?” he comments with a crude chuckle before turning away.
They’re bored with you already.
Get it together.
Don’t fuck this up.
You swallow hard, then take the bottle from Historia and pour a drink for the two unimpressed men.
Smile. Put on the mask.
“The story of why I’m not augmented is quite a tale,” your voice drips with flirtatious intrigue, “but perhaps it’s a tale better left for our second bottle, when I’m a little less nervous.”
The man next to you raises an eyebrow as you raise your glass. “In the meantime, I want to know everything there is to know about you fine gentlemen.” You smile, eyes sparkling in such a way that they almost rival Historia’s. “Kanpai.”
Lovof’s looks of confusion change to amusement as he joins you in raising his glass, the rest reflecting his actions.
“Kanpai!” the table responds.
By the third bottle, everyone is buzzed and relaxed. The alcohol coursing through you is helping you to feel less nervous, and has given you a confidence you’d only pretended to have before. The man next to you, Gelgar, has completely forgotten his other colleagues and is focused solely on you, while the other two are enraptured by Historia.
The attention makes you uncomfortable, everything within you wanting to escape this man’s gaze. But this is your job, you remind yourself.
You’re not the same person you were on Earth.
So you mirror your fellow hostess, pouring their drinks and leaning forward as they tell you about an upcoming election. Most of the time you have no idea what they're talking about, but you smile and nod, feigning to be enraptured by their words.
You’re good at pretending. You’ve been doing it your whole life.
There’s a glazed look in the men’s eyes and Historia shoots you a glance that tells you it’s time for them to call it a night. As the two of you escort them out of the bar, Lovof suddenly stops, turning to you.
“My darling, you never told us - why are you not augmented?”
Ah. You forgot you’d mentioned that.
“Well…” you begin as you’re walking with them out of the club, “...my father was the leader of a cult and my mother was one of his many wives. It was commanded that his children never be augmented, as doing so would be an affront to God, who made the body. No needle or knife must ever blemish my skin.”
A smile crawls across his face. “Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing…” You feel his eyes rove over your body in a way that feels violating. “I’d like to drink with you again, Luna.”
“She would be honored.,” Historia says, placing her hand on your back and guiding you to bow with her. “Please come visit us again soon.”
You both deeply bow then wave as the trio drunkenly walk to the black vehicle that pulled up for them. Only until they are out of view do you both turn away.
Historia takes your arm. “That story…is it really true?”
“Does it matter?”
Historia lets out an angelic laugh. “I think you’re going to do just fine here.” She walks arm-in-arm with you back into the bar. “You did well for your first time, I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks. I was nervous the entire time.” You allow yourself to smile - the first real smile you’ve had all night.
Historia’s words of praise flow through you as freely as the copious amounts of alcohol you’ve already consumed, both of them giving you courage as you stroll back into your new workplace.
This isn’t too bad, you think to yourself.
You can do this.
You carry a newfound boldness as you and Historia walk up to Hange, who is waiting at the door. There’s a concerned, serious look in their eyes, much different from the happy, go-lucky persona you’d initially met.
Hange pulls you both aside. “They’re back, Historia, and causing a ruckus. I’m sorry to do this to you and Luna, but will you two help with damage control for a few minutes while I call for some backup?” They press a small silver button on the back of their ear and walk away, not even waiting for a response. As if either of you had a choice in the matter.
You must have been too focused on your table’s patrons to realize the growing noisiness of the table in the center of the club. Now, it’s hard to notice anything else.
Even from across the room, you can sense the chaotic energy of the group, a stark difference from the customers you’d just said goodbye to. The men are much younger than Lovof and his associates, their tacky suits and bright hair colors a stark contrast to the politicians you’d just entertained. They slap the table and yell curse words at each other, earning sideway glances from the others surrounding them. Empty bottles of alcohol litter their table; one of the men tries to milk the last few drops from one, but when there’s nothing left, he frowns.
“Oi! Another bottle! Make that two!” he curls his lip in disgust as he looks at his comrades slumped around the table. “This place has the shittiest service.”
Your newfound boldness shrinks with each step to their table.
“We just need to get them to settle down and then get them to leave,” Historia whispers, handing you a bottle. “Be polite, but don’t let them manhandle you.”
You put the mask back on, smiling as you and Historia both sit on either side of the booth.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Historia says, her voice still ringing calm and clear.
An arm immediately wraps around your shoulders the second you sit down, pulling you forcefully into him.
“Look at this - two more! We must be getting the V.I.P. treatment today, boys,” a man with long brown hair and green eyes shouts over the rest of the crowd.
Ever the essence of politeness, Historia pours the alcohol, a superficial smile never leaving her face.
“It’s our honor to serve you here at Club Azure,” is her meek reply.
The two other hostesses copy Historia, just as you had done earlier, but behind their smiles are eyes that want to escape the situation as soon as possible. Although this is your first night and you still have much to learn, something feels different about this group of men; they are loud and arrogant, and their way of speaking is crude. It’s as if their entire goal is to make everyone uncomfortable. They continue to demand more alcohol and paw at the hostesses, downing bottle after bottle, their appetites insatiable.
All the while, the brunette man continues to clutch at you, his grip tight on your shoulder, keeping you from moving one inch. His suit reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his breath is even worse when he finally decides to turn and speak to you.
“I’ve never seen you here before.”
He’s young, and there’s a wildness in his eyes, warning you to stay on his good side.
You attempt to shift away from him, but his arm is stronger than it looks. So you put on the mask and smile faintly. “I’m new. The name’s Luna.”
Seeming to be the ringleader of the group, you hope that light conversation will keep him preoccupied enough for help to arrive.
Whatever help that may be.
“Lunaaaaa…” he repeats, his tone heavy and foreboding. “You’re a non-aug.” He shifts his attention back to the other men at the table. “Look at this - we got ourselves a non-aug.”
You assume that means you’re not augmented. Will it be an intriguing curiosity, as it was in Lovof’s case?
Or something far worse?
The men hoot and holler words that you aren’t familiar with, but you don’t need to be fluent in the Martian dialect to know the meanings of their slurs.
The other women look at you, brows knit, bodies frozen, each hesitant to intercede.
“Tell me, Luna,” his green eyes darken, moving down your body and stopping at the bare leg peeking out of the high slit of your dress, “is every part of you real?”
His grip on your shoulder grows even tighter as his free hand moves up your thigh. “Let’s find out, hm?”
Every fiber of your being is screaming to escape this man’s clutches. Your eyes flash to Historia, who attempts to stand up and walk to you, but is forced back down by one of the men. She sends you a helpless expression that even she is powerless to help you.
But you refuse to be powerless. Not ever again.
So you meet the man’s lustful gaze, and slap him hard across the face.
A look of shock sweeps over him, his pride hurt more than the sting in his cheek.
“Don’t you touch me,” comes your warning, willing your body and voice not to shake.
Time freezes for a moment, not a single person moving a muscle, until -
– the back of his hand cracks against your cheekbone.
It takes you a few seconds to realize what just happened, but before you can react, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look into his eyes.
“Bitch.” He squeezes tighter. “Do you know who I am?”
“Should I?” you manage to reply, despite the forceful grip on your cheeks.
His eyes fill with rage, getting even greener. “Nobody fucks with the Jaeger clan.”
“Oi.”
You hear a voice behind the two of you, cold as steel.
“Did you hear the lady? Hands off.”
You can’t move your head to see who’s talking, but your assailant does. “And who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who’s about to fuck with the Jaeger clan.”
Suddenly a hand grabs the back of the man’s collar and yanks him up, his body flying over the back of the booth and into another table. There are a few screams but then the club goes silent as all eyes watch what’s transpiring.
Finally free, you look behind you to see a man in a navy blue suit. He walks closer to the other man, who’s scrambling up from the floor. There’s an incredible size difference between the two; this man in the blue suit is much shorter than the men that are now surrounding him, but it doesn’t seem to faze him in the least.
Green eyes flash and the three other henchmen barrel towards the shorter man. It only takes a few seconds for two of them to be sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. The third grabs the lapels of his dark blue suit, but a hard knee to his groin has him joining his compatriots on the floor.
“Bastard..”
Now the only one standing, the brunette moves his hand toward the inner pocket of his jacket.
Something flashes into the hand of the smaller man. It seems to be a knife of some kind.
How did it appear so quickly?
“You pull out that piece and it’ll be the last thing your hand ever does,” the shorter man warns, his eyes laser-focused.
The other three men scurry off the floor and towards the club’s exit, but not before one of them grabs his friend by the shoulder. “Come on Eren, let’s get out of here. Your brother’s gonna kill us if this gets worse.”
The tall brunette man smirks then backs away with his hands up, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him.
“This isn’t over.” His eyes then flit to you as he straightens his suit jacket. “Fucking bitch,” he spits, before turning to leave.
It’s as if the whole club takes a collective sigh once the four men are finally gone. Historia is immediately at your side.
“Oh my god, Luna, are you alright? I’m so sorry..”
You can hear her words and feel her gentle hands touching your face, but all your attention is on the man standing before you. He buttons his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the few strands that came loose during the scuffle.
“Thank you so much, um…” your words hang in the air, waiting for a name.
His steel blue eyes look into yours - not at your body, not at the bruise you’re sure is growing by the second - but deep into your eyes, before looking away.
It’s the first time you’ve felt someone look at you like you’re a person, not some oddity.
“Levi,” he finally answers in a low, cool voice. “And don’t thank me for doing my job.”
Before you can say more, he’s turned his back, disappearing into the darkness of the club.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Glossary of terms:
Yakuza - Japanese mafia
Kanpai - cheers!
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
next chapter/masterlist/AO3
Join my taglist!
@youre-ackermine @honestlywtfisgoingon @bejewelledd @cometlevi @sea-after-a-storm @notgoodforlife @belovedackerman @y44sherlock @xyumemi @armani78 @humanitys-strongest-bamf @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw @zasialovee @heartsforlevi @pieckes @aomi04 @ackermendick @sun-drak @crazychaoticizzy @mintandgingertea @socio-kai-path1972 @xuanzhe @hvziers @hollistichood @highgoon69 @vxlentine888 @luasxsx @notsaelty @themoonisbeautiful-blog @mrsackxrman @leviismybby @littlerequiem @deepestcatpatrol @nube55 @noctemys @darkstarlight82 @pamakali @leviisgf @righty @dreamtuna @amywritesthings @yihona-san06 @levilxvr @velouria17 @ryutotsukai @outrofenty @l3visthighs @bitchymanlet @emilyyyy-08 @wingedtalewombat @wavyhat2540 @angelanimedesaray @spicerackofblorbos @ackerlancio
#levi x reader#levi x fem!reader#levi x you#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman#levi ackerman smut#levi smut#aot yakuza au#aot mafia au#mafia au#japanese yakuza#aot cyberpunk au#sixpennydame dark side of the moon
260 notes
·
View notes
Text
Interview with the Director(M)- NINGNING
“Took you long enough to get here,” The woman takes a sip from her glass, her office overlooking a beautiful mountain range in the valleys of Switzerland.
“Giselle doesn’t like giving me the answers I want,” You sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk.
“She’s always been one to beat around the bush.”
“Rather annoying, I had to fuck it out of her,” You sigh placing the audio recorder onto her desk.
“Well if the stories I’ve heard about you are true, I can’t blame her,” The woman’s smile is captivating. Of course the low light that these women seem to rejoice in, added to the atmosphere nearly as much as their beauty.
“You could see later, first and foremost it’s an interview my dear Ning Yizhuo.”
“You’ve certainly done your research, even knowing that name I’ve long since forsaken.”
“It was difficult, you’ve nearly scrubbed every record of your name besides one of course.”
“My death certificate?”
“Yes, why? Why go through all that trouble for everything else but leave that?”
“Because Ning Yizhuo is dead to the world and anyone that may fall about the story of the Ning family, the family that was found dead in their home.”
“Tell me about your family,” You pull out your journal, filled with the notes from the previous two interviews. The stories these girls hold you feel that they need to be heard.
“Run of the mill family, I feel, well as run of the mill we could be for 1740,” She leans back in her luxurious chair, looking out of the floor to ceiling windows. The snow falling to the ground as if it’s a missing piece of a larger than life puzzle, “There were whispers, that my family was plotting to betray the Emperor, yet my family still tried and true. My father was a devoted man, my mother could care less, her only care was the children. Till a night such as this one,” she nods her head at the beautiful snowy night and the surrounding alps, “It was a cold night, the fire burned brightly. They descended about our house, blood lined the walls. The blood of the maids spilt in their living quarters sullied their footsteps. They dragged us out of our beds. The terror that encased my body, the tears that stained my cheeks. The cries of my family that fateful night fell on deaf ears as we were slaughtered one by one,” She pauses as a tear falls down her cheek, remembering that painful night of which changed her life, it haunts her, even now, tormenting her in her dreams, “I was left bleeding out on the floor, my vision slowly fading and that’s when I saw her. Skin was white as the snow that fell around her.”
“Is that how she got her nickname?”
“You seem to know who it is already so yes that’s how she did get that name, Winter.”
“What of Karina’s brother?”
“Oh Sunwoo, a cutie, very diligent. He’s long since gone on to work for an unsavory group of vampires. One's hope is to turn the tide of the elders, hoping to get their hands onto power that is yet out of their grasp.”
“What is this group?”
She gets out of her chair, “Follow me,” You grab the recorder and follow, “The group is nothing less than a meager thorn in the side of the ones aligned with the elders. They wish to garner enough power and people that could use the power of elders, ones that aren’t an elder themselves. Much like you.”
“What would they want me for?”
“They seem to have found a way to extract the power of the hosts, killing them obviously. I heard recently that they’ve been rather busy. I could only assume they’re looking for you,” She opens the door to her bedroom, a lavish room decorated with black and red satin.
“I see, well enough of them, how did you come to be in charge of this place?”
“Elder Marius took a particular liking to me, he is long since dead. Watched him turn to ash.”
“Thanks for your time Miss Ning,” You bow slightly to her and stop the recorder, turning on your heels to leave.
“Where do you think you’re going manthing?” Her words stop in your tracks, “You seem to think you can just leave without giving me my payment.”
“What sort of payment do you think you’re going to get?” You turn to look at her, your eyes falling to her perfect legs crossed as she sits on the edge of her bed.
“The only thing of use that you can give, so strip,” She commanded, her eyes glowing under the light from the fireplace. You were hoping to avoid this as you didn’t want to fuck everyone you interviewed yet her you are pulling your trousers down. She gestures for you to get closer, you do without a second thought. Her soft and slender hand wraps around your cock, shivers run down your spine as you feel how cold she is despite being near a fire. She smirks to herself, “I see why Giselle decided to keep you around.”
“She keeps more around for more than just my dick,” You tell her as you make her lay on the bed, hiking up her skirt making short work of her panties.
“Rather confident about it, you should know by now anything that comes out of her mouth you can’t trust,” She chuckles which is replaced by a sharp inhale and a moan as you slide your cock into her, her tightness squeezes your cock not wanting to let go, “Fuck.”
You grip tightly onto her thighs using them as leverage as you thrust deep into her, she squeezes your cock at random intervals adding to your pleasure. Looking down at her, seeing her with that smirk etched on her lips. You part her lips with your thumb, her fangs grazing across it as you keep thrusting, getting her to feel every inch. Her legs wrap around you tightly as she reaches her climax. You slowly pull out as her juices cover the bed sheet.
“We aren’t done here pretty boy,” She says between catching her breathing, she gets on her knees arching her back, spreading her ass, “Fuck my ass~”
You don’t have to be told twice, as you push your tip into her ass, “So tight,” You continue to push deeper and deeper.
“No o-ne has fucked my ass since the 80’s, I had to do it myself~” She moans out as you bottom out in her tight ass, “Break me pretty boy, tear that ass up,” She smiles as she feels your cock piston in and out, “FUCK YES!”
Her moans echo through the halls, the sound skin slapping against skin accompanies it. Your hand wrapped up in her hair as she takes your cock, her mind merely a blank slate. Her eyes glazed over as her ass was used just like she wanted. You pull out quickly, surprising her as she squirts adding to her puddle. Her whole body shakes as she looks back at you, ”You fucker.”
“I’m only giving you what you wanted, remember that Yizhuo,” You pull her ass back up, spreading it, looking at your handy work. You smile to yourself as you slide back in with ease. She hasn’t recovered from her latest orgasm as you get back to your pace from before. You grip her hips tightly as you pound away chasing your own high using her like a sex toy. She digs her nails into your forearm. You go as fast as your own hips allow as you start to fill her ass with your cum. You keep going, you want to break her, and you will. Grabbing her other arm using them as leverage.
“FUCK FUCK!” She screams out as she starts to squirt as you rail her ass, making sure her ass will forever be able to take your cock whenever. Shooting another load into her, you finally let her go as she collapses on the bed, cum dripping from her ass. You catch your breath as you head over to your trousers.
“Dirty slut,” You say getting dressed, and walking towards the door as she starts to giggle digging her fingers into her ass spreading it more.
“Don’t you want to fill my ass more~?”
471 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏
Toji Fushiguro
← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →
[Chapter 13] Back to the Beginning
Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
“I’m an escort.” Toji says which leaves you wide-eyed. You aren’t sure how to react, other than simply staring at the man. You’re dumbfounded. Dumbfounded even sounds like an understatement. Your mouth is parted, and you’re simply shocked to even hear that. Maybe you should’ve suspected that, but you didn’t. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“Yeah um…” You really aren’t sure how else to respond. You still feel hurt mainly because he hid this from you. You’re gathering your thoughts, and you think about talking this out with him but you aren’t sure if he’ll accept the offer to talk right at this moment; you’re afraid to ask.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, his hand still on the door. You bite down on your tongue, holding back on making a snarky remark due to the words he used not even five minutes ago. You clear your throat, tilting your head to the side,
“Is that any of my business?” You respond as you move to the side to let him in. It’s too cold outside for him to explain something that seems like a mouthful to explain. He walks inside and you shut the door. You watch him take a seat. “Don’t waste time, Toji. I’m tired.”
“Right…” He looks at the ground in shame. You’re not in the mood to comfort him, and you certainly aren’t going to tell him that him being an escort is no big deal. “Momoko and I aren’t dating. She just… Pretends like we are to her friends and her coworkers and parents– Just everyone around her. I look… Presentable enough and I guess she likes that I don’t really try to engage with them.”
“Okay…” Your brain isn’t coming up with the right words to say. “So how far–”
“Just going to events. Doesn’t get past flirting and occasional pecks on the lips.” He answers, and while it’s not as horrible as you thought, your stomach still churns. You don’t like what you’re hearing– But it’s fine, you’re not dating Toji or anything. He’s just your neighbor who you’ve gotten extremely friendly with. You take a deep breath and slowly nod your head. “What’s up?”
“Why didn’t you tell me this? Why are you doing all of this?” Questions flood your head. You aren’t really sure what you’re expecting to hear, but you hope that it’ll put you at ease.
“I didn’t want to scare you away… It’s not something that I’m exactly proud of.” He tells you, fidgeting his hands, not really having the courage to look at you. Toji isn’t a man that’s ashamed of anything but for some reason as he stands before you, he finds himself extremely embarrassed that he’s doing all of this. “I… Just want to save up a lot of money and buy Megumi a proper house, where he has his own room and can go outside and play in his own yard. Fixing cars is not enough with all my expenses.”
“I– I don’t know what to say, Toji.” You’re simply shocked. Maybe you should’ve expected it, but you were hoping he was a waiter or something along those lines. Not an escort. “I guess… You have to do whatever you have to do.”
“So what do you think?” He asks when you sit in complete silence for a minute, although it feels like it’s an eternity. He finally looks at you, watching as you stare down at your thighs. You really don’t know what to say, it’s not something light.
“You should’ve told me sooner.” You have no other words. Maybe if you found out sooner than you would’ve taken the news better. It’s not that you’re upset but… This is all so confusing for you. “I guess there isn’t that much trust between us and… It’s not something that you’re exactly proud of.”
“I mean, do you look at me differently now?” He questions, and you do. But mainly because he tried to hide it. He just makes it seem like he’s actually sleeping with them and– God, the idea of him sleeping with other women makes you upset.
“Did you… Fuck any of them?” You ask, and he quickly shakes his head. That makes you feel a lot better, but you still feel pretty weird. “I guess, I do. I just thought you would’ve told me. Considering that I almost consider you a boyfriend.”
“I guess sometimes things aren’t how we want.” He responds. You sigh, and he stands up from the bed, beginning to walk towards the door. His hand lands on the doorknob, and he turns to look at you. You stare at each other for a moment before he speaks up, “I hope things don’t change between us.”
“I hope so too.” You muster to say. He opens the door and exits, making you lay down on your bed. You don’t want things to change, Toji has been making you feel so good.
But you know things will change. There’s no way they can remain the same after finding out the truth.
It’s not because he’s an escort– Well not entirely. You feel weird knowing that Toji’s been hiding this from you. The idea of Toji kissing other women for the sole purpose of money makes you sick. You doubt that you’ll be sleeping tonight.
You’re more concerned about what he’s doing, rather than questioning who sent you the photos. Who knows about you and Toji? You have an answer, but you don’t really care to think about it. Your main concern right now is your relationship with Toji, a man who you thought you had a possible romantic relationship with.
You want to say that things remain unchanged, but they aren’t. You’re awkward around Toji, the same way he’s awkward around you. The only reason you interact now it’s because of Megumi, and it makes you feel upset because you were sure a relationship was developing.
Slowly your walls were coming down and you’d allow yourself to be with the man that you were starting to like more than a friend. Sadly, things didn’t turn out the way you were hoping.
You try not to dwell on it, maybe you’re just not meant to be with each other. It’s fine though, your hopes weren’t up too much. You won’t deny how weird this whole arrangement is. You feel like you’re trying to coparent Megumi even though he’s not your son. At least now Toji is paying you some money, even if it isn’t a lot.
You want to act like everything is okay, but for some reason you find yourself upset when he’s working late nights, and your mind wonders just exactly what he’s doing. At least it doesn’t get past kissing; at least that’s what he told you. You aren’t quite sure if you can believe Toji’s word.
The first week of February strikes you, and you’re shocked to realize just how fast time is going. It’s been over a month since you’ve had your conversation with Toji, over a month since he last kissed you. You don’t miss it, at least that’s what you tell yourself.
You don’t like Toji all that much either way. That sentiment slowly fades away. A little too slow for your liking, but regardless, it’s leaving.
As Valentine’s day approaches, you find yourself a bit saddened though since you were expecting to have a Valentine’s this year. First it was Kento, your late husband, since you expected him to last longer. That hope clearly vanished, but as you got closer to Toji, maybe he could be your Valentine.
The most unexpected thing though is when you’re in your apartment taking care of Megumi. He has a little backpack– Which isn’t exactly so little. It reaches past his knees and he has to be careful with it. You have no idea why Toji got that backpack for him since it’s plain black and boring, not to even mention twice his size. He’s looking for something there.
“What are you looking for, GumiGumi?” You ask him, crouching down to help the little boy that looks determined to find something. He finally pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper that’s folded in half. It’s a card, and it’s filled with attempted shapes. You squint your eyes, trying to make out what it is. “What is that, honey?”
“Would you be my valentine?” He asks, as he extends his arm to you. You feel your heart soften, your bottom lip sticking out as you put your hand over your heart. He’s simply the cutest. You always knew you wanted kids but this just confirms it even more. You hug him.
“Of course, baby.” You respond. You kiss his temple, a big smile on your face when you look at him. Maybe you won’t be so lonely this Valentine’s day, you still have Megumi who is almost like your son. Knowing Toji, he’ll be busy. “Do you want to do something special? Maybe go to the movie theater or get something to eat?”
“Can we get ice cream?” He asks, a spark in his eyes as he mentions the cold treat. You end up nodding in response, causing the biggest smile to come to his face. Then he asks, “Can daddy come with us?”
“If he’s available, yes, baby.” You answer. When you fully stand up, you put the card down on the counter and you ask him, “Do you want anything specific to eat, Megumi?”
“No.” He shakes his head. You walk over to the fridge to look at what ingredients you have that can make a quick and easy meal. You’re not really in a cooking mood.
You hear your phone ring, and you furrow your brows. You grab it to see an unknown number calling. You’re about to hang up the call since lately a lot of weird numbers have been calling you. Something urges you to pick it up, and when you do, you almost regret it. You heard your name, and you aren’t sure whether you should confirm or deny.
“This is her.” You end up confirming it. Your eyes widen when you hear it’s from the hospital, and you feel your heart drop. You remember a similar call years ago, and it ended up in you losing so much. “Who is in the hospital?”
Your eyes immediately dart to the little boy who opens his notebook to scribble with his crayons. God you hope it’s not– “Toji Fushiguro? I’ll be on my way.”
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#anime#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#daddy toji#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji#toji x you#dilf toji#toji fic
578 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 - 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Fyodor x Demon!Servant!Male!Reader , HEAVILY inspired by Black Butler , reader is kinda sexual towards Fyodor but I wanted tension between the two bc it’s kinda romantic but also kinda not yk , really improvising on Fyodor’s backstory here bc there’s nothing for me to go off of so it’s probs inaccurate but lay off me please 🙏🏻 , Sky Casino exists before the book for plot purposes.
SPOILERS FOR FYODOR’S ABILITY + RECENT CHAPTERS!
Fyodor had first met you on the verge of death. A visit from the devil, one could say.
“ PLEASE, SOMEONE, ANYONE, SAVE ME !! ”
The man’s cries were a melody to your ears, and thus you decided to investigate, which led to your current predicament. You were no fool, you saw right through Fyodor’s façade, and you were somewhat intrigued. As a demon, the man’s false screams of agony with each stab wound thrusted into his lithe body couldn’t fool your ears. Whilst in pain, he was in no hurry to save himself. No, he was eagerly awaiting his demise.
And so, you watched from the shadows, invested in the show before you. Blood was shed and organs were spilt, all before Fyodor’s heart was put to rest.
And then, his murderer soon began to morph, his body bending and dislodging in intricate ways. His face swirled and curled itself in. Out came, what seemed to be, a carbon copy of the man you just witnessed get mutilated by, what was now, his former murderer.
As Fyodor took in his surroundings, adjusting to his new body, he sensed another presence he hadn’t noticed beforehand. It was rare for Fyodor to express any form of shock, but someone with the ability to conceal themselves from him for an extended period of time was certainly nobody to fuck with.
And so, he slowly turns around, preparing himself for whoever stands behind him. However nothing could’ve prepared him for what he would witness turning around.
An inhuman entity with large wings, a pointed tail and strong black horns revealed itself to Fyodor. The entity was easily over 9ft tall and had somewhat human characteristics embedded into its form. It stood tall, yet curiosity filled its eyes.
Curiosity filled your eyes.
As you stared at him, Fyodor’s shocked most slowly formed into a smirk.
“What pleasure do I owe such a magnificent being such as yourself? Surely you aren’t just here to observe, are you?” He questions.
“Your screaming intrigued me, and so I decided to take a look into the situation. Alas, you came out unscathed, which means I no longer have business with you.” You reply, and slowly turn around.
Just as you walk away though, a bony hand grasps your own.
“If it’s a deal you were going to offer me, I’m still interested.” Fyodor bargains, his smirk widening.
Oh?
And so, you slowly transfer your body into a more human like state, dawning a black coat, with a white undershirt and black shorts. Discarding your wings and tail, yet keeping your point black horns, you adjust your height to better accommodate communication with him.
“What did you have in mind?” You enquire, a smirk of your own now gracing your face. You wanted to know what it would take to earn this man’s soul, because god did it smell delicious.
“Play the role of my servant. You shall never betray me and will treat me as if I’m your God. You will do my bidding and will do whatever I ask of you. In my journey to achieving my goal, you shall never leave my side.”
“And how should I prove my loyalty to you, sir?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
And so, a deal with the Devil was signed.
As written in your contract, you obediently stood by his side for many centuries to come. The two of you had a rather intimate relationship, but it was nothing more than lustful advances. Other then carrying out his desires, you dispersed of anybody standing in his way of obtaining what he wanted. As the years went on, you had lost count of how many human lives you discarded and how many nails you removed from fingers. You seduced princesses, murdered guards, tortured bandits for information, and all the while, you watched Fyodor’s plan slowly set into motion.
As centuries past, allies and foes came and passed, yet none of that mattered to you. You could and have killed hundreds of humans and feasted on their mediocre souls, however none compared to that of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s. His soul was a diamond in the rough, a premium amongst brass and copper, if you would.
And so, you followed both him and your contract without complaint. It’s not like Fyodor was a boring or difficult master. There was almost never a dull moment with him, and your loyalty knew no ends when it came to getting what you ultimately wanted.
Somewhere along the way, you suspected you harboured feelings for the Russian. You wernt sure exactly what kind, but you knew that each time he was put at risk, even knowing his ability, you couldn’t help but interfere.
Which brings us to where the two of you are now.
“Fyodorrrr, wanna play a card game with me?” Nikolai’s bubbly voice boomed through the Decay Of Angel’s headquarters. You held a somewhat fond feeling for Nikolai, despite not interacting with him much.
“Cmonnnn, you’ve been staring at a computer screen for days! Your eyes are gonna go SQUARE! SQUAREEE!!” He exclaims, his arms flailing around like a mad man.
“If you’d like, I can handle the Jester whilst you continue what you’re doing.”
“As useful as ever, dear (Y/N)”
“If not a useful asset to you, Demon Fyodor, what am I worth?”
“You’re worth everything, my dear.”
“How you flatter me.”
His pretty words do little to your synthetic heart, however you adhere to the puppet strings he’s attached to you and play your part well, knowing Fyodor may be in a mood tonight.
“Hey Nikolai, how about we go up to the Sky Casino and visit Sigma? We haven’t seen him in awhile and it’s not going to be long before we set out to go get that silly little book the boss wants.” You reason with the jester, smiling at him.
“A wonderful idea, lovley (Y/N)! I know what you’re doing, distracting me from disrupting the grumpy Fyodor’s tech work, however I’ll humor you for now.” He concludes, grabbing your arm harshly and spinning away into his cloak.
“How’s you end up as a butler for that constant-stick-up-his-ass Fydor? If anything (Y/N), you should be ordering him around.” Sigma states bluntly, just the two of you alone. Nikolai was off bothering the Casino guests and Sigma had learned to just let him do as he pleases.
There’s no restraining something that doesn’t have the ability to be restrained.
“I simply admire Fyodor and his goals. He piqued my interest, and so I broke down his walls and forced my way into his life, eventually leading him to take me on as his underlying.” You lie through your teeth. You knew Fyodor had some sense of worship towards you, which was almost funny. The man who preached God had a sense of devotion to a demon from the pits of hell.
How ironic.
Sigma only hums in your response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You inches closer to him on the couch you were both resting on in his private quarters, and toyed around with his artificial hair.
You knew Sigma wasn’t human, and part of you knew that he knew you were no less human then he was, yet he never addressed it.
The man in question only glared at you, but decided against telling you off. You were always quite touchy, especially when it came to Nikolai or himself. Often toying with his hair or pinching Nikolai’s cheeks, however it was rare of you to even touch Fyodor without his explicit consent.
“If you want Sigma, I wouldn’t be opposed to showing you why Fyodor keeps me around after the suns sets”
You tease at him as sigmas face instantly turns into that of shock. You smirk and shuffle away, giggling as he whacks your head with force.
“As if I’d even consider getting into a bed with a freak like you, go mess around with Nikolai or something, because I have work I need to catch up on.”
You watch as he struts away, his heels clicking against the tiles of the Sky Casino. You were only half joking about getting into bed with Sigma, he was defiantly a sight for sore eyes.
You can imagine just how livid Fyodor would be if he found out though, after all you were his property by contract.”
“Oh well, I guess I better go collect Nikolai, we’ve got a long few weeks ahead of us.”
I feel like I didn’t do this idea justice at all wtf I’m so mad abt this. The original idea I had for this was a LOT more spicy though so ig I can’t really help it 😒
#fyodor#fyodor bsd#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor x reader#fyodor x male reader#fyodor dostoevsky bsd#bungo stray dogs#bsd#bsd x reader#bsd x male reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x male reader#enjoy fyodor bangers
114 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi 👋. Can I have “enemies to lover” and “stuck together” head canons with Ran. They get handcuffed together by their friends. And are forced to spend the day together. And they both realize they aren’t as bad as they thought. Since they were only ‘enemies’ due to some misunderstandings. Maybe reader has to go through her schedule and Ran just in a forced to tag along. So they go grocery shopping, he sees her taking care of siblings, etc. Ran teases her a lot as well. Thanks!
— ran haitani // enemies to lovers // stuck together
[𖤐] haii i once again just cranked this out w/o thinkin abt it sawr. idk !! i am so tired rn i cant even tell if this is good but wtv lmk if its good or not lol. i hope you all enjoy xoxo !
wc ; 1.8k+
masterlist || 2k masterlist
❥ when you felt something cold and metal click on your wrist as you were getting ready to leave school, you were certainly not expecting to come face to face with ran haitani, and you were especially not expecting for the thing around your wrist to be a pair of handcuffs, the other end being attached to his own wrist. when you glanced at the people next to him, you could only sigh, seeing his brother and your best friend grinning devilishly, (you swore you’d only seen that look on rindou’s face when he was beating someone up, which seemed unlucky for you somehow).
“can you guys stop fucking around and take these off? i have things to do.”
“heyyy, that’s so mean to me, (y/n)! i’ll come by your place and take them off at the end of the day, but for now they’re staying on! you’ll thank me later!”
“what?! get back here-! ugh, already gone…”
❥ you stood there for a few moments, wondering if you should just drag ran along with you and chase after the pair until they let the two of you go. you’re not really concerned about whatever is on ran’s schedule for the day, but you’re more worried about how you have to get all of my responsibilities done. you have to go to the grocery store, pick up tonight’s dinner, cook dinner, help with your sibling’s homework, do your own homework, and one of them ask for you to bake something for their school? that was also going to take time, but maybe-
“hellooo, earth to (y/n)? you there?”
“yeah, i was just thinking. you heard of it?”
“guys would probably like you more if you were cute instead of so aggressive, y’know~”
“do you ever shut up about stupid shit for more than two seconds? you know what, don’t even answer that. i have stuff to do that’s more important than your stuff, so let’s go.”
❥ on the walk to the grocery store, you heard quite a number of complaints from ran about how ‘he’s a busy guy’ and ‘i’ve got stuff to take care of too!’, but frankly, you just dragged him along anyways. you knew that if there was anything seriously important on his schedule that he would probably be more serious, but given the teasing tone of his voice, you completely ignored him.
❥ walking through the aisles of the grocery store was a bit of a challenge given the special circumstances, especially with the fact that ran was like some kind of child, popping random snacks into the cart when you weren’t looking. it didn’t help that the two of you received some very strange looks, people whispering about god knows what as you walked by, (you could never come back here).
“what’s with all this stuff you’re getting anyways?”
“for my siblings.”
“you have siblings? how many?”
“three younger; two brothers and a sister.”
❥ there wasn’t a whole lot of serious talking during the shopping trip aside from that, but you noticed that ran seemed very pensive when he learned that information. you probably would have thought about his sudden seriousness a bit more if you weren’t very eager to get out of this store, (though you had to admit, he was somewhat cute when he was serious).
❥ the walk to your home proved to be just a tad bit awkward; there wasn’t a whole lot of words exchanged between the two of you. you weren’t sure what you were even supposed to say given the situation, so you just decided to stay quiet, which is what ran had seemingly also decided. at least, until he suddenly spoke up.
“do you do this everyday?”
“hm? yeah, on days when i’m not working.”
“working? isn’t there some school rule that you can’t have a job?”
“yeah, that’s why i work in yokohama.”
“yokohama?!”
“yep.”
❥ for the next few minutes there was no other words spoken, but he grabbed some of the grocery bags out of your hands, carrying a couple more bags than you were.
❥ this was one of the only times you had ever seen him this serious, and it was throwing you a bit off. he was usually the stark opposite of serious, so to see this new side to him made you wonder what he could be hiding. just a moment after you turned the idea over in your head, the teasing tone was back in ran’s voice.
“so, you’re finally able to be seen with me in public, hm~ how does it feel?”
“what’re you talking about?”
“just so you know, it isn’t cute to play dumb, sweetcheeks.”
“um, seriously, what are you talking about?”
❥ you’re still unsure of how to feel about the words exchanged between the two of you during the rest of the walk; honestly, you had always disliked him because of the way that he disregarded the fact that he was quite privileged to be able to attend school and therefore almost never attended, but you’d never hated him for something small like that. and sure, maybe you thought it was stupid that he was always beating people up, but to be honest, it wasn’t exactly any of your business in the first place, so why would you care?
❥ he revealed to you in short time that he had been informed that you were embarrassed to be seen with him at all, which was why he disliked you, (you never recalled even thinking such a thing, so you were really questioning the source of his information).
❥ he’d even acknowledged the points you’d told him about school, ran even mentioning that he was trying to catch up on his studies so that he could maybe still graduate with the rest of the grade, (the amount of work he had missed was incomparable to any other student aside from rindou).
❥ you felt a little bit relieved when the two of you arrived at your house, entirely because you didn’t want to think too much about ran haitani right now. you have other priorities, and thinking about ran haitani can wait until later.
❥ when you opened the door and slid your shoes off, you could hear the pitter-patter of little footsteps running to the front door. your siblings all ran for you, wrapping themselves around your legs and hugging your side as they all talked at once.
“i missed you so much!”
“school today was so boring, and at lunch-”
“what’s for dinnerrrrr, i’m sooooo hungry!”
❥ despite all of the overlapping of the sentences, you still responded to each one of your siblings with patience and kindness, making ran’s heart skip a few beats, (he’s ignoring why).
❥ when your siblings asked about the boy next to you, you just said that he was ‘some guy from school’, but the teasing wink you sent his way did something to him. he had only ever seen the side of you that was always slightly annoyed with him, so this was truly the first time he had ever seen you even somewhat outside of this norm.
❥ he thought it was pretty nice :)
❥ he helped you set all the groceries on the counter, even taking them out of the bags and handing the cold items to you as you put them in refrigerator. the sudden change in the relationship between the two of you did feel a little bit weird, but it was somehow in the best way possible. as you cooked dinner, the playful banter between the two of you as he watched you cook and helped with prepping ingredients was honestly refreshing, which was something you never thought you would think about ran haitani.
“hmm, i bet i can shop a carrot faster than you~”
“oh really? you realize i’ve been chopping carrots for a long time?”
“you’re not the only one who cooks dinner around here, doll.”
“okay then, you’re on!”
❥ maybe it was the fact that you were both older sibling’s, but you somehow felt like he was so understanding of the situation. despite the fact that the both of you were forced to be together after school, here he was, helping you cook dinner for your family and not trying to pull apart the handcuffs, (you had to admit though, it was a challenge to cook with only one hand).
❥ you also had to admit that seeing ran interact with your younger siblings during dinner completely warmed your heart; his charm was turned up all the way, but with the best intentions possible. he was indulging in all the random talk about their current interests and hobbies, and he even offered to teach one of your younger brothers how to skateboard!
❥ after dinner, you helped out with any homework you could while you did your own homework, telling ran off at the fact that he didn’t collect the homework assignments that he had missed in the past couple of weeks, (he took a couple looks at your paper and what you were working on, then immediately shook his head and said, ‘next time, maybe…’).
❥ after your siblings were asleep, the two of you even had a blast baking the brownies for your younger sister’s school event! at one point, he threw a handful of flour at you, leaving you covered in the white powder. you both stood there shocked, ran looking at you with a shocked look on his face as if he wasn’t expecting that outcome at all.
❥ and so went to get your revenge.
❥ your hand dipped into the container of flour throwing it right back at him, even going so far as to rub it all over his scalp so that his dark roots were now white. you were a bit unnerved by how good he looked when he was laughing, and how melodious his voice was, especially when he was calling your name- stop! what are you even thinking right now?!
❥ the fight eventually died down when the amount of space between the two of you was suddenly very small, both of you slowing down your actions and stopping, looking at each other, (was there some kind of drug in his gaze? why can’t you look away?)
“y’see somethin’ you like?”
“w-what?! no! i mean, i was just, i wasn’t even-”
“relax, relax, i’m just teasing. you should’ve seen your face though; it was pretty cute~”
❥ and with that, he just continued on with baking the brownies, acting as if what he just said was completely normal. somehow, this technique worked on you, since you also just pretended like nothing happened, though you didn’t step away when you realized the two of you were standing arm to arm at the counter.
❥ even though you were pretending that nothing had happened, you couldn’t deny the butterflies you felt in your stomach, courtesy of ran haitani of all people, (if somebody had told you this morning what would happen, you would have called them a bumbling liar).
❥ maybe being temporarily attached to him wasn’t so bad…
#˗ˏˋ𖤐 hana’s 2k event! ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ𖤐 tokyo revengers ˎˊ˗#東京リベンジャーズ#東京リベンジャーズ x reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo卍revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tok rev#tok rev x reader#tr#tr x reader#ran#haitani#ran x reader#haitani ran x reader#ran haitani x reader#haitani x reader#rindou#rindou haitani#anime#manga#fluff#headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader fluff#ran haitani x reader fluff#haitani ran x reader fluff#tokyo revengers x reader headcanons#anime x reader#manga x reader#reader
181 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only an Almost (XIII)
Chapter 13: Decisions
Hi! Here comes a new chapter! We are reaching the heights of the angst… next chapter. So, buckle up, we’re up for a wild ride…
I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!
*************************************
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU
Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!
Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.
Word Count : 1982
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
“Andy, honey… can you take a pic from up there? Down the river. Try to centre it on the bridge…”
Andrew followed his mother’s instructions, climbed on the bench by the docks that ran along the Liffey, aimed the camera the best he could, took a couple of pictures.
“Is that alright?” he asked his mother to check the pictures, handing her the camera.
“Perfect! Thank you, honey.”
They resumed their walk down the river, Raine’s camera secured around her neck. He offered his mother his arm, and she took it with a tender smile.
“This is such a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” she said after a moment of comfortable silence.
The sky was grey but there was no rain in sight. Dublin was busy with life, as it always was. The murmur of cars passing in adjacent streets and boulevards mingled with the cries of a few seagulls who had flew up along the river from the sea. It was early in the afternoon still, right after lunch-hours, and the docks were empty of people, except for the occasional joggers and their loud earphones, the parents and their children, the lovely couples. It wasn’t too warm, nor too windy. There was a sweet scent coming from a nearby bakery.
“Yeah, it is lovely,” Andrew nodded.
“Thanks for coming with me today and helping me with the pictures.”
“I’m expecting some kind of reward for such hard work,” he joked, making his mother laugh wholeheartedly.
“That may be arranged… if you come for lunch on Sunday.”
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Jon is coming too, with his partner.”
“Lovely.”
“You can ask Y/N to come, if you want to.”
“Mom…”
Andrew shook his head, growing annoyed already.
“Y/N and I aren’t together. I’ve told you…”
“I know, I know. You have that… casual thing going on. No progress on that then?”
Andrew grew quiet, pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he thought of an answer.
“I don’t know,” he answered earnestly. “I’m fucking lost.”
Raine waited patiently for her son to speak again.
“I… It’s like… I don’t know what she wants. Sometimes it’s just so… nice. Like we’re moving forward, like we’re getting closer to being an actual couple. And the next second she’s cold and just…”
“One step forward, two steps back…”
“Yeah, something like that. Back to square one. I don’t know what to do. I just… I can’t believe she feels nothing at all. There was this one time I talked to a woman in a pub… she was fucking jealous. I stayed over night and it was so… intimate. Really. It wasn’t just casual. And we have so much fun together, like… we really have a lot of moments when we are truly happy. But then, the other day, she just ran off like laying in bed with me for five minutes might kill her.”
He heaved a deep sigh.
“I don’t know. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I should do, and I don’t know what I want either.”
“Don’t you? Know what you want?”
“I mean… I do know. But she doesn’t want that.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“No… I don’t think she would react well.”
It was Raine’s turn to heave a sigh.
“If the two of you don’t want the same thing… you can’t stay with her. You’ll get hurt, Andrew. Do you understand?”
“Of course… don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” he fought back, being harsher than he meant.
He felt guilty as soon as the words passed his lips, and so he tightly closed them.
“You need to talk to her,” his mother insisted, ignoring her son’s irritation. “It’s the only way out. Communication is key.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But if I do, and she rejects me…”
He let his words suspended in mid-air, to hover between them. But Raine soon let out a low chuckle.
“Andy… You can’t have happiness without sorrow; love without pain; satisfaction without risks… it’s never one or the other. It’s always both. If she rejects you, you’ll have to learn how to live with it, the way we all do.”
“I don’t know how to live without her. And I don’t think I want to find out.”
Slowly, she nodded.
“You must really love her,” was her only answer.
His throat tightened, he could feel that he was welling up too.
“Yeah… yeah…”
“I have to admit… I don’t understand her,” Raine went on.
She stopped their walk so they could sit on the bench there, facing the river. It wasn’t the nicest part of the docks, but it was quiet, and someone near was blowing soap bubbles with their daughter. They flew up catching the light of the hidden sun, iridescent and fragile as they rod on the wind. They both looked at the bubbles while they spoke.
“What do you mean?” asked Andrew.
“I mean… I’ve always thought that she felt the same as you did. That one day your lives would finally align, and you’d end up together. Married even.”
“Were you already choosing baby names for us?” Andrew laughed.
“I have a whole list,” she joked, and they both laughed for a moment, despite all the pain held in this conversation. “I don’t know… I thought she loved you.”
“I don’t know… sometimes I have hope. Sometimes she pushes me away so much, I wonder if she doesn’t hate me a little.”
“Hate you?”
“Or is ashamed of me, perhaps.”
“Why would she be ashamed of you? You’re a good man. You truly are a good and kind person. There will never be a day when I am not infinitely proud of who you’ve become.”
“God, mom, stop… that’s enough…” Andrew protested, blushing all the way to the top of his ears and shifting uncomfortably on their bench.
Raine merely smiled fondly at him.
“I don’t know,” Andrew went on. “I don’t understand what she wants.”
“This can’t go on forever.”
Slowly, he nodded. Daphne’s words echoed in his mind.
“You’re right. I need to talk to her.”
“I’m your mother. I’m always right!”
They laughed again, brighter and merrier than before. They remained there for a long while, chatting, the conversation drifting towards the rest of their family, this new recipe for a blueberry pie she wanted to try, this song he was working on.
When he offered to go for tea before going home, Andrew was fully aware of how lucky he was to have her by his side.
The hike was nice, although the weather was unsteady. But then again, it always was in Ireland.
Andrew wanted to wait until you would reach the lake to talk. First Daphne, then his mother… he couldn’t push back that moment any longer.
You had talked about your work while you walked, then about the wedding. It was coming closer, only a couple of months left. Soon, it would be time to try on the dresses and suits, settle on the flavour for the cake.
You were growing a little annoyed though. It was visible that he was only half-listening to you, barely participating in the conversation. Still, you didn’t say a thing, merely pouting and frowning a little. You were adorable, as always…
“Ha, there it is! Let’s take a break!” he offered as you finally reached the shore of the lake.
You plopped down in the grass as an answer, further away from the trail so as not to be disturbed if more people were coming this way. Andrew soon joined you.
“Alright, what snacks for today?” he asked, making you roll your eyes.
“You know you can bring your own snacks…”
“They’re better if I steal them from you!”
You chuckled, handing him some biscuits and some grapes.
“As sweet as you,” he teased, biting in one of the fruits and shooting you a wink that brough fire to your skin.
“Smooth,” you said with irony dripping from your voice.
He laughed, biting on his biscuit instead. His favourites. He wondered if you knew how much he loved them. You often carried these when you hiked together.
There was a long silence, and Andrew was visibly nervous. He had a lot of courage to gather, and a lump in his throat that needed to be swallowed back, so he could finally talk to you.
“Andy? Spit it out.”
He looked up at you.
“Hmm?”
“Whatever it is that got you so worked up… spit it out. You’re killing me.”
He clenched his jaw, set his gaze on the lake. Peaceful. Tiny ripples brought by the wind. Rocks and grass and wildflowers staining its shores. There were some birds over there, on a tiny rock, right on the edge of the water. He wondered what kind of birds they were, all shades of grey and white and black…
“I just… I think we should talk.”
“We have talked,” you fought back, defensive already.
“Y/N…”
“Look, Andy… things are simple. We don’t need to talk about this more. We agreed that this would be casual, just sex, no attach. If you don’t want to do that anymore, we can stop.”
“I don’t want us to stop…”
“What do you want then?”
You.
But if he said it, he knew you would run. He could see it in your eyes now. Somehow, he just knew you would fly away like these birds on the shore of the lake, that you would disappear in the sky, never to be seen again.
“I just want you to answer one question.”
“Go on.”
“What do you want from me?”
You were so taken aback by his question, you were left silent, with lips parted and brows furrowed.
“What… what do you mean?” you stuttered back.
“What do you want from me? This… this is temporary. At one point, we’ll either become more than friends, or go back to being in a friendly zone. Which one will it be?”
You huffed, clearly uncomfortable, shifting your weight.
“I don’t know. How could I know that?”
“I know.”
“And what do you want?”
“I asked first.”
“I asked second.”
“No. No, Y/N. You’re not allowed to turn that around.”
“Why not? Why are you asking this anyway? You’re always… wanting to plan, wanting to make this evolve… why can’t things just remain how they are?”
Because I’m in love with you.
But Andrew couldn’t say that. He settled for what seemed like the next best thing.
“Because I care about you. And because nothing ever stays the same. Things always change.”
He was surprised by your sudden anger. How you got to your feet in a jolt. How you started packing back your snacks.
“Y/N…”
“I don’t fucking know, okay?! What do you want me to tell you, Andy? It was never meant to be more than an arrangement. What else could I say?”
“It means more than that to me.”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to make of your silence. Because if no words were coming out of your mouth, tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes.
And his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, but he didn’t back down. He stared, and waited, for an answer that never came.
Instead, you kept on packing. And then you were off to the trail without a word. He followed you, eventually, walking behind you in silence. It started to rain, about halfway down the trail to get back to the carpark. You reached his car in silence, drenched and miserable.
You didn’t speak for a few days, until an olive branch was offered to him, in the shape of an invitation to the cinema.
He ended up in your bed that night, but when it was over and done, he didn’t stay.
#andrew hozier byrne#hozier#the hoziest#hozier x reader#hozier x you#hozier x y/n#hozier fanfiction#hozier series#hozier x fem!reader#hozier fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#series
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Am Perfectly Normal About Step by Step Episode 7
Sighs.
Dear readers, I do not have time for this. I have trainings to make, I have shows to catch up on, I have practice to go to. But alas
Here I am
Once again
Overanalyzing the fuck out of the body language in my silly little gay Thai shows.
Because the BODY LANGUAGE in this episode??????????? HELLO?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!
GOD! Jeng and Pat’s interactions are putting worms in my brain. ALRIGHT, LET’S BEGIN
First off:
Jeng
When Jaab calls Jeng to accuse him of secretly dating Pat, Jeng immediately starts closing himself off, because he may not currently be secretly dating Pat, but Jeng is head over heels obsessed with Pat already and is trying to hide his feelings, from his brother and from himself by placing his arm across his chest and slouching to hide himself a little better. But of course, he is incapable of truly hiding his feelings for Pat because his whole apartment is BLUE which is Pat’s color.
And Jeng is nervous, like he knows that he has feelings for Pat, and now he knows that his feelings are obvious enough to his baby brother who is friends with his crush and if his brother knows, then who else knows? Jeng is constantly moving in this scene, he is folding and then unfolding his arms, he is turning forward and then backward, he is pacing!!
When Jeng gets the news from Jaab that Pat is dating someone, his back is turned to the camera. He is facing Pat’s color, but he is in the final stages of trying to hide his feelings by giving the audience nothing but the nervous scratching of his neck to read.
Until he sinks under the weight of the news that Pat is taken, at which point he sits down on his desk and then his nervous energy is transferred to his fingers, which are fidgeting as he considers whether or not to ask Jaab “Who is Pat seeing?”
Edit: peace, love, and my firstborn to @respectthepetty who has granted me a gif of Mr. Fidget
But he freezes, only shifting the grip he has on his phone while he waits for Jaab’s answer. After Jaab replies Jeng is constantly moving some part of his body: his arm, and then his torso as he takes a deep breath, and then his head as he looks down.
Jeng, Pat, Put Round One:
It does not take long for Jeng to figure out who the secret boyfriend is, because Jeng is totally platonically interested in Pat’s life, Jeng is in fact ~completely normal~ about this man. Jeng certainly would never see Put’s wallet, after already having one subtle “he’d not interested in you anymore” at the aquarium with Put, and immediately put the pieces together.
gif from @earthpirapat
Nor would he spend his work hours sulking because he sees Put and Pat flirting with each other...
gif from @earthpirapat
And he 100% most definitely would not need to be physically pulled away from Pat by his brother, because seeing Pat and Put together has made Jeng forget all workplace decorum, and Jeng, who has been unaware of how far over the line he has actually crossed with Pat over the last few episode, is now no longer capable of hiding his intentions while in a workplace setting.
Especially not when he is wearing a light blue button up shirt, because he’s trying to be neutral but his feelings for Pat are still seeping through.
This is less a body language note, and more a body placement note, but Pat is positionally closer to Jeng than he is to Put in this scene.
Put and Pat
With the flirting we get between Put and Pat during the interview, we can see how they might work together as a couple. There is some illusion at least of playfulness and familiarity, they are feeling strongly enough towards each other that they aren’t capable of being 100% professional during that shoot (and neither is Jeng) because he’s too busy looking like a kicked puppy.
But when we return to Pat’s home, where he and Put are sharing a meal, suddenly the vibe is very different.
The lighting is dark and white and cold, with a hint of warmth from the lamp in the corner behind Pat, Pat who spends the first part of the meal smiley and trying to engage Put in conversation. But Put is too busy on his phone to pay much attention. In fact, for the entire time that Put and Pat are eating together they do not make eye contact. Only after Pat says that he is full and tries to leave the table, does Put meet his eye.
This is starkly different than when Pat and Jeng are in the kitchen together:
gif from @smittenskitten
Here the lighting is bright and warm, golden and more natural in feeling, and Jeng and Pat dedicate too much time to eye contact. Drawn to one another, rather than trying to pick up a connection that was lost years ago.
The incompatibility continues when Pat has his breakdown on the commercial set. We saw in the earlier dinner scene that Pat is sensitive and that Put, like Jeng, is capable of hurting Pat’s feelings. However, Put only comforts Pat when he himself has made an inappropriate/slightly mean comment about the noodles Pat made, knowing that he fucked up. When the going gets tough, and Pat succumbs to intentional external aggression from Chris’ mom, only Chot reaches out to comfort Pat.
Put won’t even look Pat in the eye.
Pat runs off to have a #hotgirlmeltdown behind a trailer and Jeng shows up. And this is where I start to go feral, because the HANDS the BODY LANGUAGE the way Jeng is constantly trying to keep himself in check. The way he starts to reach out to take Pat’s wrist, and then immediately pulls his arm back, because he knows that is not an appropriate touch between a boss and an employee. Between Yutaka’s split second reach for Minoru’s hand and Jeng’s split second reach for Pat’s hand I am being personally victimized by the gay yearning of fictional Asian men.
gif by @pharawee
Jeng looks at Pat approximately a thousand times, trying to figure out what to do, his body making all these little movements like he keeps considering whether or not he should touch Pat, if he can comfort Pat, how he can comfort Pat.
And Pat leaves him no choice, Pat and Jeng are hidden behind a trailer away from the eyes of the rest of the office, and Pat is too distraught to be thinking about appropriate workplace decorum, and instead seeks comfort from a person who he has feelings for, who has made him feel valued, and supported, and listened to in a way that no one else really has.
gif from @pharawee
And again, the body language, especially from Man is exquisite here. Jeng is stiff, he doesn’t initially relax into the hug, again his brain catches up to his heart, and he starts to reach out to complete the hug, to touch Pat’s shoulder or arm, and again he stops himself. Jeng’s initial response to this hug is handled in such a way that someone walking by would not read the encounter as romantic. The first few moments of this hug are truly just Pat needing comfort, and his boss being the only person around.
But as Pat continues to cry, Jeng gives in. He finally touches Pat and the second that he completes the hug, the second that his hand makes contact with Pat’s arm, it’s over. There is no more plausible deniability. This is an extremely unprofessional hug, this is a “oh no the boy I like is sad and I must comfort him” hug. Because Jeng makes contact with Pat’s arm and then leans his head down to rest his chin on Pat’s head.
gif from @pharawee
And it does not leave until Pat finally calms down and breaks the hug.
So, here’s the thing, it’s not entirely Put’s fault. Like, when Put is being attentive to Pat it seems to go well (the tickling scene from earlier) but his priority is work, and his priority has always been work. Put can’t be seen getting too comfortable with people, on set Put can’t really engage in the behaviors a boyfriend would, Put is still at the will of his manager. But Put left Pat last time in part to pursue a career, and those same things that pulled them apart last time have not gone away.
Whether Pat realizes it at the moment (and I don’t think he does) getting back together with Put is a last ditch, desperate attempt to try to channel his feelings for Jeng somewhere else. At one point he used to love Put, at one point he and Put seemed to really work together, he can have fun with Put, he and Put know each other, Put is more comfortable with his sexuality now. It could be easy, it could be easy to forget his feelings for Jeng, it could be easy to find the feelings he once had for Put.
But…
And to Put’s credit, he is extremely forgiving and patient, he says they can take it slow. The whole time they were interspersing teasing with kissing with talking Put and Pat are constantly touching each other, stroking their thumb along a shoulder, running their fingers through each other’s hair. They are comforting touches, they are familiar touches. They are touches that Pat can’t get from Jeng.
But it doesn’t feel the same, and they both know it, and where Put seems willing to give it time, I think there is a part of him that knows this is not going to work out. Pat is too in love with Jeng. I want to shout out the post by @chicademartinica because it analyzes the use of barriers as a way of showing that Put is trapped outside of Pat’s world.
So Pat goes to the party, and he drinks and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks because it is easier to get drunk and forget that he can’t ignore his feelings for Jeng, and so that he could, as @shortpplfedup so aptly identified in conversation, have some deniability.
Pat goes to the party and before long he is sitting next to Jeng. Because Pat is also not able to control himself as much as he should. To my mind, Pat is his usual amount of light hearted tease with Jeng, making digs at his breakdown, trying to rope Jeng in to singing karaoke with him, etc. but Jeng, who is at least a glass of wine in, if not more, is uh…much much much more obvious then he usually is.
Listen, I know what you are all going to say when you read the next sentence, but you know what I mean. Man is a physicality beast. He is an expert in knowing where and how to place macro and micro expressions. He knows when Jeng is supposed to read awkward and stiff, he knows when Jeng is supposed to read comfortable and relaxed. I am struck, watching this couch scene, by how many times Jeng looks out the corner of his eye in Pat’s direction without ever turning his head to face him, when Pat leans in to suggest they sing karaoke together.
When he turns to face Pat, he is only able to keep his eyes on him for a second at a time, he keeps turning his head almost 180* in the opposite direction every few seconds, changing his body position, smiling, Jeng literally cannot help himself. He’s already had to rein himself in once, almost making a comment about Pat that would not have been work appropriate.
Pat gets drunker, Pat in fact gets obviously drunker, but we aren’t really certain where Jeng lies in his inebriation levels. Which is fun because that means we get to decide if he is looking at Pat and saying “I will still be there” SO SINCERELY because he is also buzzed/tipsy/drunk and therefore no longer fast enough to stop his mouth. Or if he is deciding to be bold because he knows that Pat and Put are together and he wants to show Pat he is interested. Or if he thinks that Pat will have a repeat of last time, and blackout and not remember everything that Jeng has said.
It is harder to tell on Jeng than on Pat, but I am pretty sure that Jeng’s cheeks are at least a little flushed, and let’s be real
gif from @junghaesin
This man is under the influence. Of what? Alcohol? Love? Doesn’t matter, Jeng has gone full Heart Eyes, Motherfucker at the work function. Rest in peace to everyone, and especially Chot who is going to have to deal with their stupid, sorry, gay asses.
Pat continues to drink, and then, OOP:
gif from @smittenskitten
Jeng has an excuse to take Pat’s wrist, plausible deniability “I was trying to stop him from drinking more” but honey, that hand stays on the wrist for way longer than #justcoworkers should touch.
And then Pat chugs the rest of it, and Jeng tries to stop him, and he freezes and for just a second, Pat’s wrist once again passes across Jeng’s fingertips. This time, just brushing together as Pat moves his glass back to the table.
gif from @smittenskitten
Moving on to my absolute favorite part of the entire episode. THE SHIRT SCENE. Yes, I know this scene is probably more accurately referred to as The Grass Jelly scene or the Drunken Hallway Conversation scene but I DO NOT CARE. I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE ACCURATE, I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE APPROPRIATE, ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THIS:
gif from @earthpirapat
“Mr. Jeng can make grass jelly” Pat says, drunkenly, as he tugs at Jeng’s shirt with enough unsteady force to knock them both back into the wall. You can see the top of this man’s boxers. Does Jeng seem bothered by it? No. Does Jeng seem angry about it? No. Does Jeng try to switch drunken men to support when Pat starts being overly familiar with his tank top? No.
What does he do?
HE. LOOKS. DOWN.
He does not protest. Pat’s faculties are gone and all that is left is Pat’s affection for Jeng. He wants to eat grass jelly because that is a food he associates with Jeng. (Let’s be real here, Pat doesn’t want to eat grass jelly, Pat wants to eat Jeng). Pat plays with Jeng’s shirt because he can’t help but touch Jeng.
To be completely honest with you, whatever the implications of the grass jelly are, whatever the implications of Jeng just watching this happen, dead fucking silent, I don’t care. I care about how comfortable and familiar it is, and they aren’t even together yet. I don’t care how much sexual tension is acting as an undercurrent to that interaction, I simply think this is so goddamn fucking cute!
As for the rest of the drunk man shuffle, the benefit of having a Certified Tol Boi like Man, is that Jeng can hold Pat’s hand and cup his chest without it inherently coming off as inappropriate to outsiders, because he is so tall that only Pat’s wrist is really the only thing that can sit somewhere on Jeng’s shoulder that Jeng can grab. Jeng simply must hold Pat’s wrist and/or hand, and he’s slipping more towards Pat’s hand. Convenient.
This is less a body language analysis and more a “in case you didn’t notice because I did not notice at first and @shortpplfedup had to tell me” JENG TAKES OFF PAT’S SHOES.
Between this and the t-shirt grab, my brain just wants to spin and spin and spin towards all the domesticity they could have if they were allowed to be a couple right now.
And now, dear readers, I am coming to a close. If you have gotten this far, again I marvel because, holy shit this is literally so long, and for what?
So I will end with this, Jeng is a goner, and we’re heading towards the break in the dam. Jeng and Pat have tried to keep their feelings for each other at bay. Jeng has tried to be professional about this, Pat has explicitly made an effort Not To Date His Boss. They have failed. Pat failed the moment he stopped kissing Put, and he failed again the moment he grabbed Jeng’s shirt. (and also a bunch more times, see: eating together before he knew who Jeng was, see: furniture shopping, see: putting on the chef’s hat, see: watching fireworks together). Jeng has been failing the entire goddamn time. God he tried so hard in the beginning, when he learned Pat was going to be his employee, he pulled back initially, he gave critiques, he did not play favorites, but it did not take long for Jeng to come up with more and more excuses for why something was work appropriate. “Oh you won’t have time to go home before the gala, just shower at my place”, “Oh, I’m only available on Sunday for a meeting, just come to my place”, “Oh, I didn’t know where you lived so I let you sleep at my place,”, “Oh, the rooms weren’t booked properly, why don’t you share my place?”
But where are we at the end of Episode 7?
Jeng is, in the light of day, with his employees milling about the room, looking Pat in the face and saying that the video of him drunk is, and I quote “pretty cute.” which means, by extension, Jeng is calling drunk!Pat “pretty cute”, which means that, by extension, Jeng is calling Pat “pretty cute”. Narak indeed, Jeng, narak indeed. So, all caution has been thrown to the wind, Jeng is over trying to be professional, it’s time to officially enter Jeng’s “I Lost Focus and Had A Consensual Workplace Relationship” Era.
#step by step#step by step the series#patjeng#jengpat#pat x jeng#jeng x pat#dee hup house#thai bl#man trisanu#ben bunyapol#up poompat#bruce sirikorn#people better read this post it took me four hours to write#there was a w-k-a before the shirt tug and there was a w-k-a after the shirt tug#and they are not the same person
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
everything, everything
[steve rogers x female reader]
summary: steve and his partner are undercover on assignment, hiding out as husband and wife. the line between reality and fiction is too thin, and steve can't take much more.
warnings: steve is v dumb, pining/longing/etc, smut, canon level violence, smut, and also some smut is in it.
a/n: thank you to @sanguineterrain for the original prompt: "How about a Steve x reader who have to go undercover as a married couple and oh NO, they're pining for each other and don't know it! Whatever shall they do?! 😳😏"
enjoy!
--
He’s too stunned to move when the doorbell rings, so she slips between Steve and the counter with pink-stung lips and hastens to answer it. All the air in the room rushes out with her.
She’s not supposed to kiss me when nobody is around to see her do it.
Three weeks. It’s only been three agonizing weeks. When did the fiction bleed into reality? When did his hands start aching to reach for her?
‘You get along so well already,’ Bucky had said, ‘it will be nice to be undercover with someone who doesn’t get on your nerves.’ Except… Steve has never had less clarity in his entire life, especially not now, after she kissed the daylights out of him.
The smoke detector is his only saving grace. The pancakes he got up early to make for breakfast are charred beyond recognition, and he throws open the window to let out the smoke… and whatever hot air is keeping his brain from actually processing.
“Everything okay, baby?” she calls from the front room. Steve clenches his jaw.
“Wouldn’t you know it–I burned breakfast,” he replies, in as chipper a tone as he can manage.
“That’s why my husband doesn’t go anywhere near the kitchen. I’m surprised you let him try, Betsy.” Ugh. Sharon. Her husband is on a permanent business trip to live with his other family, a fact that SHIELD had uncovered in the process of vetting the neighborhood. Wayne Carter is also a very good cook. Sharon Carter puts on a haughty face for a woman who hasn’t seen her husband in nine months. Betsy… the alias his partner wears like the Southern Belle she most certainly isn't… she hates Sharon, but she’s a good actress.
“Oh, Steve’s a wonderful cook! But I was distracting him.”
His ‘wife’s’ little giggle is enough to make Steve snap the spatula in half. He stares at the bisected plastic in shock.
“Bex, what do you say I take you out for breakfast?” Steve rubs his jaw and gives up on the pan, which is entirely unsalvageable. “Mimosas and crepes, yeah?”
“Steven Rogers, you’re gonna spoil me rotten.”
“Impossible.”
Steve can’t stop the panic rising in his chest. It isn’t supposed to be like this. She’s a fantastic agent, and that’s all. God–he wants to kiss her until she can’t pretend anymore. He needs to have the upper hand, to retain just one ounce of professionalism as Captain fucking America. People know who he is. He’s on assignment. They aren’t married for real.
And yet.
Realization washes over him and he leans against the counter in despair.
Every evening, when she bids him ‘goodnight’, he hopes that she skips past the first bedroom and finds her way to his. Cooking for her? His favorite part of every day. He’s googled so many recipes that the app suggests fancy breakfast food. He wears that one blue shirt as often as he can because she smiled the first time he did.
Coming ‘home’ is his only source of comfort, because she is always standing on the porch… waiting. Sometimes a neighbor is talking with her; she’s so kind that it has been easy ingratiating themselves into the neighborhood. Nine times out of ten, she’s got a glass of lemonade in hand, slick with condensation, waiting for him. It’s the weekends that are most torturous, when he has no reason to be out of her presence. Like this particular Saturday morning.
It’s very easy to forget why they’re there. They’re so close to uncovering the ring–she fills him in on the dirt she’s dug up while playing cards, or gardening, or just gossiping with the ladies each day. The women on this street tell her things that he’s struggled to weasel out of hardened criminals. Steve is fairly certain he’s going to burst into flames before they succeed in this assignment. He’s ashamed of himself. She doesn’t deserve some sicko fixating on her, especially not her partner. He’s a public figure, for Christ’s sake! He’s better than this.
Her hand presses against the small of his back. Steve starts and wheels on her. She bites back a smile at the sight of him, and raises a hand to his cheek.
“You look like you’ve been sweeping the chimney,” she laughs.
He steps away, out of her grasp. “I’ll just get cleaned up, if you wanna go.”
“Oh. You really wanna go out for breakfast?” The surprise in her voice stabs him square in the chest.
“Why not?” he shrugs. “I destroyed the good pan anyway.”
“Are you okay?”
No. Absolutely not, under no circumstances. “What did Sharon want?” He still hasn’t looked her in the eye.
“She went through Zemo’s garbage,” she says, as if she’s impressed by Sharon’s gall. “She found like twenty packs of cold medicine.”
His head snaps up. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. She’s got the bags in her garage, she texted me a picture, too. Look.” She holds up her cell phone and sure enough, a black trash bag filled with boxes of off-brand medicine fills the screen. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, Steve.”
“Oh my god…” he can’t help but laugh in astonishment. “This is reason enough for a warrant.”
“I already sent Fury the photo. Can you believe it?”
He wants so badly to pull her into his arms and hold on for dear life. Because if they’ve truly uncovered the lynch pin of the whole organization, then their days playing house are numbered. Worse than loving her is the thought of no longer getting to pretend, and hang all his hopes on precious public displays of affection. You two look so in love, one of the neighbors had said during their welcome block party. Steve had his arm wrapped around her shoulders then, because being the facsimile of a married couple was still too new to know how to comfortably interact in a way that seemed real. She lets herself be kissed by him with a sweet smile on her face, now. Her fingers always entwine with his, especially when they’re over at someone else’s house.
For one brief second, Steve considers how easy it would be to steal the bags from Sharon’s garage and destroy the evidence… but what would his partner think of him if she found out what he had done? Maybe that was the best way to push away these embarrassing feelings–push her away. Make them strangers, again.
“Steve–hey!” She snaps in front of his face. “What’s wrong with you?”
He shakes his head, but the heat which floods his cheeks is mortifying. “I slept weird. Not fully awake yet.”
She frowns. “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll order breakfast in, and we can wait for Fury’s directive.”
“I don’t need to lay down,” he says quickly. “I’m fine.”
“You keep zoning out–”
“I said I’m fine, so I’m fine.”
“...why are you being like this?” She crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. “You’re pissy.”
“Can you just leave it alone?” he sighs.
“We’re in deep cover and you want me to ignore it? I’m gonna nag you until you communicate, Rogers–”
“You’re not entitled to every little thought in my head, alright?” Steve throws his hands up in the air. “This is a sham marriage, remember? Stop pushing me and accept that I don’t want to talk, I’m fine.”
She opens her mouth to press the matter, but thinks better of it. She looks away and nods, but she breathes in raggedly. “Well fuck me, I guess. Fuck my feelings. Crepes?”
Steve’s heart plummets through the tile floor as she turns away to leave the kitchen. He lunges before he can stop himself and grasps her wrist, staying her exit. Words clog his throat. She waits with one eyebrow raised, but when he can’t make the apology come, she rips her hand from his. Steve is left with the horrible feeling that he has ruined everything good between them… the real rapport they’ve built sharing an assignment, and the fake one which allows her to touch him freely where anyone can see.
And kiss him where they can’t.
He waits for her on the front porch in blue, having scrubbed the pancake ash from his face. She emerges from the house in a sundress. The light pink one which always robs him of sanity. For a moment her face is stony, but then her expression lightens to exuberance and she waves–beyond Steve, to the passing neighbor on the sidewalk.
“Hi Joe!”
“Hiya, Rogerses! Where ya off to on this fine morning?” The old man braces himself on their little gate.
Five soft fingers curl around Steve’s elbow and he remembers that he’s supposed to be helplessly in love with this woman. Well… no acting required, he thinks with a wince. He covers her hand with his.
“Somebody destroyed breakfast,” Steve says, pointing his thumb at himself, “so he’s gonna treat his wife to some French cuisine.”
“Good on you, boy. Betsy deserves the best.”
“That she does,” Steve says, a hair too earnestly.
“Talking about me like I’m not even here!” She giggles. “Joe, do you still need Steve’s help moving that dresser?”
Steve tightens his hand over hers. They’ve talked time and again about how Joe is capable of stealing one’s entire day, and how frustrating it is when he’s trying to keep tabs on Joe’s neighbor to have a two-hour conversation about hydrangeas–
“If he’s offering!” Joe smiles expectantly at Steve, who bobs his head.
“I could do that for ya. How’s this afternoon?”
“You know where to find me!” Joe salutes and totters back down the street towards his small bungalow.
Once they are seated inside Steve’s car, shielded by darkly tinted windows, he dares to study her. She ignores him, typing away on her phone. “What was that?” he asks lowly.
“You’ve been trying to find a reason to case his house,” she says, not looking up. “I got you an in.”
He clears his throat. “Right. Good idea.”
“You’re not the only influential Rogers in the neighborhood.”
Steve sighs. “‘M sorry–”
“It’s forgotten.” Her phone rings in her hand and she answers immediately. “Hello? No, unsubstantiated for now but Steve is going into Joe O’Leary’s later today while I pop over to Sharon’s. No, he’s just the only house we haven’t found a reason to go inside. It was Steve’s idea, actually.”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. It absolutely was not, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t quite figure out which part of this assignment he’s actually contributed to. She has all of the good ideas, she thinks of things he never would’ve dreamt of.
“--Yeah. Zemo is hunting this weekend, apparently. We won’t. Nick–that was one time!” she huffs. “I have the scar. We won’t go to his house until you’ve got the warrant. Why does every man around me insist on being so damn stubborn? No–god, I forget you have us triangulated at all times. We’re headed out for breakfast. I burned the pancakes, so…” She glances at Steve and shakes her head. “No, I copy. We’ll stay put. I’ll tell him.”
She hangs up and her head falls back against the seat. “He wants us to stay in place, and wait until he gives the okay to check out Joe and Sharon’s.”
“We already told both of them we’re going out… won’t that look suspicious?”
“I dunno… drive to the gas station. I’ll buy you some shitty coffee. At least our car will have left the driveway.”
“I’m buyin’,” Steve says, starting the car. “Last time I checked, you’re not the one who charred the pancakes.”
“It was still my fault.”
“You can buy me a moon pie, for my trouble.”
“I’ll buy you a whole box.” He can’t help the way his mouth turns up at one side, and when he looks at her, she’s smiling sadly. “I don’t like it when we’re at odds.”
Steve shakes his head. “No.”
“Partners?” She holds out her hand, but before he takes it…
“Why’d you do it?” His voice is soft, pleading. She shrugs.
“I wanted to. Don’t you ever do things, just because you want to?”
“Um. No, I don’t have that luxury.”
“I forgot who I’m talking to.” Her chin dips bashfully. “Just forget it happened, okay? We kiss in front of other people all the time, it’s a habit.”
“...which you wanted to do.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t overanalyzed it. Like you are doing right now.” She wiggles her fingers and Steve laces his in. “Partners. Do you wanna tell me what was going on with you?”
“Well… I suppose I was thinking about all this being done. It’s, uh. Hard to tell sometimes what’s part of the cover, and–”
“What’s real,” she finishes. “Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. We don’t have to answer that today.”
“I like holding your hand,” he admits. “I–shit, sweetheart, I-I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Yeah. But I don’t have enough caffeine in me for that conversation,” he says, squeezing her hand.
“You can do it back, if you want. You keep looking at my lips. It’s okay if you want to, Steve.”
“I don’t want to ruin it,” he murmurs.
“Only way to do that is to shut me out.”
He studies her neatly manicured nails. “I want to. So bad.”
“But?”
“I don’t know. Can’t think straight as it is. What’s it gonna do to me–”
“Hush.” She holds their clasped hands to her lips. “It’s okay.”
“No–it isn’t.” He squeezes. “It’s unprofessional.”
“If you think I haven’t spent the last three weeks relishing the fact that I get to spend every evening watching trash tv with you, staring at your ass, and listening to you laugh… fuck professional, Steve. I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? You caught me off guard with your sweetness. I knew I was in trouble the first time you kissed me.”
“But this is gonna end…”
“It doesn’t have to. I–” She stops to cup his cheek and brush her thumb over his jaw in reassurance. “I don’t wanna go a single day without kissing you. I don’t care if it started because we’re pretending.”
“It’s never been pretend for me,” he breathes.
She moves first, because she knows that he can’t do it without real permission, where there’s no question why it’s happening. He moans against her mouth; it’s always felt like his lips were meant for hers, but with nobody watching… It's a gift. She is precious to him. He cradles her face to say as much, without putting voice to it. Kissing her this way strips him of all ceremony. He’s just a city boy with a crush on a beautiful girl, who kisses like a dream. It’s freeing. If anyone saw them making out in the driveway, what would it give away? Nothing which doesn’t show on his face every time he looks at her. Because Steve can’t pretend like she isn’t the center of his world. Not when he has permission to kiss her in private.
His tenuous control snaps.
She keens as his lips traverse her jaw to nip at the tender skin below her ear. “Been holding out on me, Rogers.” He sucks a mark, blooming a ruddy bruise on her throat. Then, he lavs that spot, pulling more heavenly sounds from her lips. “Fuck.”
“I think about that, too,” he whispers against her skin. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“We wouldn’t be the first partners to do it.”
“Remember when we caught Bucky and Nat after Bulgaria?” Steve eases the strap of her dress off the curve of her shoulder.
“God,” she sighs, tugging on his hair so he’ll find her mouth again. She catches his bottom lip. “You wouldn’t look at me.”
He blinks at her through heavy eyelids. “I was thinking about you.”
“You wanna fuck me in a bunk on the quinjet?” she scoffs. Her fingers card through his hair.
“Anywhere. Have forever. Buck knows. ‘S why he suggested you for this.”
She smiles against his mouth. “Remind me to send him a thank you card.”
“Can I touch you?”
“In the driveway?” she gasps, even as she guides his hand towards the hem of her dress.
“Windows are too dark to see in.”
“You’re kinker than I thought–fuck.”
He traces the pads of his fingers over her soft skin. Steve bites his lip, watching her eyes flutter as his hand gets closer to touching her where he wants to, most. “Think I’m vanilla, agent?”
“That is your favorite ice cream flavor.”
Steve stops for a second and squeezes her thigh in affection. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She chases her lips after his, and pauses just a breath from his face. They smile at each other, drunk on uncorked arousal.
“Vanilla,” he whispers, tracing the hem of her panties, “is a complex flavor. Goes with everything. Chocolate. Cherries…” Steve dips his fingers beneath the silky fabric. She cants her hips to give him better access. He finds the little bud at her apex, worrying the bundle of nerves enough to make her moan.
“Exhibitionism,” she pants.
“In small quantities,” he chuckles. “Gimme your lips, sweets.”
She does so like a woman starved, but her head falls back as he sinks one finger into her heat. “Steven.”
“‘M here.”
“So good.” She rolls her hips to meet his hand. He thumbs her clit with every stroke. “Had a dream–mmph. You fingered me at a barbeque.”
“I’d do it. Under the table?”
“Mm. No. In the pool.”
“Our pool, sweetheart?” Steve works a second finger with the first easily. She’s drenched, she’s gorgeous.
She nods. “Yeah. But I couldn’t make a face because everybody was around.”
“What, then?” Steve feels her squeezing him tight. She’s close. He’s never wanted anything more in his life than to make her come. He doesn’t care how much work it takes to clean the seat afterwards. He’ll do it with a smile, as long as she comes.
“You made me orgasm in front of the whole neighborhood. Then you got in the hot tub and you made me sit on your dick.”
“Were you keeping me hard?” He tugs the cups of her dress down with his free hand and bears her breasts. “Christ. You’re so beautiful.”
“Nobody knew, and the bubbles covered us,” she sighs. “Right there, right–oh fuck. What about you?”
Steve groans as her hand finds his straining dick over the top of his jeans. “I’m gonna bust my zipper the second you come.”
“Wanna feel you. Please.”
He nods his consent, but not before flickering his tongue against her nipple. She stays his hand by turning her nails into the skin at his wrist, and forces him to lean his seat back so she can unbutton his pants, but she doesn’t get very far–
The back window of the vehicle shatters. Steve throws himself over her, peering above her headrest. She groans.
“I was so close,” she wheezes.
“Stay down, sweetheart.” Steve kisses her cheek and then throws the car into reverse, turning the wheel like a madman to dodge their attacker… Sharon. Standing on her front porch with a rifle. She raises the gun to take another shot, now that she has her sights on him.
“Roll down your window, baby!”
Steve doesn’t hesitate. His partner yanks the top of her dress up, lays half-way across his lap, and fires her own weapon (pulled from god-knows-where), catching their attacker in the shoulder. Sharon drops her rifle, but the gun discharges, destroying one of Steve’s tires with an explosive POP! The car drops heavily towards the front wheel well. Sharon staggers to retrieve her gun. After one more precise shot, she falls. Steve takes the gun from his partner when it is offered. She retrieves his pistol from the glove compartment, and they each get out of the car warily.
“Do you wanna trade?” Steve calls.
“You think I can’t shoot with your gun?” Her voice is sweet and teasing.
“I said no such thing. Is she dead?” They flank the unconscious woman… sure enough, she’s down for good, with one bullet right between the eyes. Steve exchanges a look of shock with his partner.
“Yes. Must’ve been desperate to risk taking us out like this. I’d say we found the rat,” she says.
“I guess so.”
“She has the shittiest timing.” She grins at him, which makes Steve’s ears turn red. She retrieves her phone from the car and makes a call.
Steve keeps his weapon at the ready. Several of the neighbors peer out their front windows in concern, but none are stupid enough to come out and investigate the ruckus. He attempts to stand between the body and the street, at least to obscure the pooling blood below Sharon’s head.
It doesn't take ten minutes for a dozen black SUV’s to come squealing down the sleepy street. By the time they take over the block, Steve and his partner are leaning against his car, glancing at each other with small smiles. They’ve collected themselves somewhat; he made sure there was no visible sign that she’d been just moments from an orgasm when they were shot at (other than the hickey, which he hopes nobody notices), and they attempt to look concerned that their attacker wasn’t someone they expected. But it’s especially hard for Steve to be stoic, because he knows how it feels to touch her. He settles for looking smug. He is, but who’s to say why?
Bucky accompanies the agents who emerge from the trucks, as does Fury. “Cap. Agent.”
“Director,” she acknowledges. “Sergeant.” Bucky wrinkles his nose at her.
“Walk me through what happened.” She steps forward with Fury and walks him towards the body, while Bucky hangs back with Steve. Barnes leans over and whispers.
“Your fly’s undone.”
Steve sighs. “Shit. Why are you staring at my crotch, huh?” He fixes the aforementioned zipper as discreetly as possible.
“Old habits die hard.” Bucky folds his arms and leans against the car.
“What would Natasha say to that?”
“...you think she doesn’t stare at your crotch, punk?”
“You two are nightmares.” Steve can’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Carter annoyed the hell outta me, but I didn’t think she was involved.”
“You trying to change the subject?”
“Not succeeding, apparently.”
Just then, his partner looks up at him, gesturing towards him and then down the street, which is swarming with agents in black suits.
“Cool it with the puppy dog eyes,” Bucky murmurs.
Steve glares at him. “Shut up. That’s just how my face looks.”
“Not when you look at me,” Bucky says, elbowing him in the side. “Did you tell her?”
Steve’s eyes dart away, and he can’t help but smile. He twists his mouth to keep from breaking out into a full smile.
“Thank God,” Bucky says.
“Rogers!” Fury waves him over. Steve strides towards the director with his hands in his pockets. “I think your partner is a little shell shocked. Why don’t you take her to the house? I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I think it’s going to take a few hours for us to do a preliminary search of Carter’s.”
Steve glances at his partner, who has her hands clasped at her waist, twisting her fingers. She indeed looks quite shocked, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares up at him. “Yes sir.”
“I’m glad you two didn’t do anything hasty and stayed put. This could’ve gone a whole lot worse.”
Steve nods. He manages the world’s most convincing performance of concern, wrapping his arm around his partner’s shoulders. She leans into his side, letting him guide her across the street to the house with ‘Rogers’ painted on the mailbox. He doesn’t dare look at Bucky, nor does he want to risk saying anything until they’re safely concealed from the rest of the world. But the moment they’re inside, he presses her back against the front door. She smiles softly.
“Did that get your blood going?” she asks. “Getting shot at with your fingers inside me.”
He huffs. “Your mouth, I swear.”
“What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Do you want this?” He asks, working his knee between hers until she has to stand on her tip-toes. She nods breathlessly. “Out loud, or I stop.”
“I’ve heard you come,” she laughs. “In the shower. When you think you’re being quiet. I talk myself out of joining you every time, but I wanna see your face when you have an orgasm. I think you’ll be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Steve shivers. “Pretty, huh?” He lowers his mouth slowly to hers, but stops as she gasps. His hands find the globes of her ass, inching under the panties he’s going to destroy. He watches her eyes dilate with arousal. She smirks.
“You’re a pretty man, Rogers. ‘S why I married you.”
Steve gapes at her for just a minute. He shakes his head in disbelief, shrugging off the euphoria which rises in him at the thought of this woman truly being everything. Her fingers creep to his jaw.
“What?”
He sighs. “That’s all I want. To have this. All the time.”
“A wife, baby?”
“And babies, sweetheart.”
“You told Joe you wanted three… you were being serious.”
“I was.” His eyes flick back and forth to study her irises. They’re glassy.
“You’d want that with… me?”
“How long have you known me?” He asks, kissing her forehead.
Her hands wrap behind his head, stroking his nape. “That’s a big step. We’re not even together–”
“I’ve been telling anyone in a ten mile radius that you’re my wife for three straight weeks, and nothing has ever felt more right.” Steve levels his eyes with hers. “I want as much as you’re willing to give me.”
Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “God. You take a girl’s breath away. I… I don’t know if I want kids, Steve–”
“But you want me.”
“Yes,” she sighs.
“Then I don’t care. You can think about it.”
“What if the answer is ‘no’? Could you be content with only me?”
“Only–sweetheart. You are everything.” Steve kisses her eyelids as they shut in relief. “We could always have dogs.”
She laughs in surprise, and it’s his favorite sound in the whole world. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, and see where we end up?”
“Where’s that?” He noses her cheek.
“Give each other orgasms for the first time. I mean, if I’m gonna think about having babies, don’t you think I should know how your dick feels?”
“You make a very good point,” he says with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. “In the spirit of investigation.”
“To make a truly informed decision.”
“Right… if we do this, we’re gonna have to tell Fury.”
She looks at him guiltily. “He… knows. I sorta forgot that the car is bugged.”
Steve freezes with wide eyes. “Shit.”
“...Yeah.”
“Well…”
“We have no reason to hide it, now.” She finds the hem of the shirt she likes so much and tickles her nails across his abdomen. “Besides, I gotta admit that I kinda found it, I dunno… hot? That people heard us.”
Steve locks the front door over her shoulder and walks backwards, tugging her towards the stairs. He spins her so her heels catch on the step, forcing her to sit down abruptly. Steve follows, latching his lips over hers hungrily. He probably should feel embarrassed, but how can he when this beautiful woman wants him? No man in his right mind would be ashamed of her.
He rends the gusset of her panties. For such a talkative person, she sure has nothing to say when his fingers find her clit again. Just incoherent moans. Steve has three fingers inside her by the time she comes, walls fluttering around his thrusting hand. Her head falls back in ecstasy as she soaks his fingers. He wastes no time working his pants down enough to free his dick; her hands urge his shirt off so she can run the tips of her nails down his chest, flicking against his nipples and making him buck. She’s bringing kinks out in him he didn’t even know he had.
She wraps one hand around him, making his head fall forward against her collar. He nips at her tendon in retaliation. She guides him until his dick is tucked between her folds, and rolls her hips to take him in. Steve obliges. He sinks into her fully, and groans.
“Fucking hell,” she breathes.
“You’re tight, sweets.” He teases the seam of her lips with his tongue, inviting her to lose herself completely. She’s still sensitive from her first orgasm, shivering when he brushes her clit, so Steve stays still. Buried deep in the woman of his dreams.
“Was it like this, in your dream?” he asks, stroking her cheek softly. She smiles blissfully.
“No. This is better than anything my brain made up. You gotta move.”
“What if I didn’t? And I made you sit with my dick inside you all day long.” Steve shimmies her dress up her torso until she arches her back enough to let him pull it over her head. But he fists the fabric at her wrists, capturing her hands so she can’t touch him. She whines.
“Jesus. Who knew you were so controlling?” Her inner muscles contract and he huffs.
“If I thought I could control you for one second, you’d know it by now,” he says, rolling his hips. “But you’re the one who’s got me wrapped around your finger.”
“Yeah?” she gasps. “You’ve got me tied up.”
“You don’t need your hands to have me right where you want me, sweetheart, and you know it.”
She kisses him hard. “Fuck me. So I have bruises from these stairs.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He snaps his hips forward to do just that, and he’s in heaven. He’s got little experience compared to some of the agents he hears bragging about their trysts in the gym, but by god, he���s never fucked a woman like this. Especially not someone he loves. His knees burn from the carpet, and his boots attempt to slide off his bracing step–hell, his pants aren’t even to his knees, but he fucks her like a desperate man, because that’s what he is. He wants her to come again, more than anything. Hard. Who cares if he doesn’t, as long as she finds pleasure?
Her hands slip free of their restraints easily, and she grasps his back for dear life. He’ll feel the marks from her nails in the shower, he’s sure of it. Steve doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until she gasps. His eyes snap open–she’s arching up, chasing her release. He reaches between their bodies to find her clit and rolls it as he thrusts. It’s enough to send her over the edge. She cries out, and it’s all he can do not to come at the sight of her. But he thrusts through her orgasm until she’s whining with sensitivity. She grips his ass.
“Baby–please. It hurts.”
Steve braces himself on his elbows and freezes, kissing her in apology. “Mmm. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You okay?” She nods, kissing him back slowly.
“You need to come.”
“I’m okay.”
“No!” She protests. “I want you to. I have to see it. Please–pull out, I’ll help you.”
The moment he rises up, she’s reaching for him… he can’t think with the way her fingers wrap around him, tugging him ever closer towards his own orgasm. He’s kneeling beside her on the stairs, watching her in rapt awe. She worships him, but she’s too gentle. He tightens her fingers with his to show her that she doesn’t need to be so careful with him. She’s a fast learner. She pumps him with as much care as he showed her, her eyes fixed to his face to catch every little expression of pleasure. When he’s close, he falls down onto his elbow, right at her side. She smiles, and he can’t help but smile back because god, he loves her. She’s everything. He’s never felt so good. He’s soaring. She coaxes him through his orgasm, painting her belly with his come. He turns his teeth into her shoulder to keep from bellowing, which makes her wince and laugh all at once. Then, he lets himself fall fully onto the stairs beside her, so they’re both staring up at the ceiling in awe.
He laughs.
“Yeah… you’re pretty, alright,” she breathes.
“I should’ve gotten you to bed.” He looks over at her. A faint sheen of sweat makes her glow like a goddess, and she shakes her head.
“I think this was as far as we were gonna make it.” She raises her hand to stroke his cheek but she’s shaking a little. Steve takes her hand and kisses it.
“What’s the verdict?” he whispers.
She giggles. “More research required.”
“Do you think the house is bugged?”
“...Not anymore.”
He can’t help but laugh at the innocent smile on her face. “Shit, sweets. You made me hungry. I could really go for those moon pies right about now.”
She beckons him to meet her in a kiss. “After that, baby? I’ll give you the whole moon.”
--
thanks for reading!
my masterlist - my marvel masterlist
#this is just filth honestly#steve rogers#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x f!reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers oneshot
700 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦
series: yoimix christmas event !! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)
pairing: alhaitham x reader
synopsis: if christmas is the season of giving, then you’re giving up on both alhaitham’s ability to play nice, and your teetering love life.
prompt: decorating the tree + mutual pining + modern au
genre: fluff, e2l
wc: 2.8k
warnings: language, this is just 90% bickering
a/n: holy shit i got derailed from the schedule but i finally decorated the tree with my family (and attempted fixing the busted christmas lights) so merry christmas, my sunshines!! hope you have a lovely time and a wonderful year ahead ❣️
Alhaitham is a man of many talents.
Choosing Christmas ornaments is not one of them. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s aesthetically impaired or if he genuinely never decorated a tree before—but shopping with him has been one hell of a nightmare. It’s a shame he’s been selected as the one to host this year’s Christmas party. Lucky for him, the good samaritan in you decided to help him out. (Even though he told you to not bother and ‘mind your own business’.)
Not because you’re regrettably in love with him.
This year, Fate decided to stitch you a get-along sweater from previous years’ antics because you’re stuck helping him. You couldn’t refuse when Nilou personally called you up to make sure the background for the Instagram posts aren’t downright grotesque (of course, she put it rather nicely but that’s what she meant). You’d take any excuse to see his handsome face and sketch a frown onto it.
“Why the fuck did you buy the yellow ones? They’re hideous!” You hold up the bells, colored a neon yellow with sparkly bits and pieces, and certainly not easy on the eyes. It’s borderline vomit-colored. You never know how he manages to pick the worst thing that has ever befallen your eyes every time.
“They were Buy 6 Get 6 free.” Alhaitham shrugs. How you wish you could knock the nonchalant look off his face.
“You don’t go by deals when you’re decorating!” You groan, exasperated. “Now we have twelve of these ugly motherfuckers.”
“They were also the first I saw in that aisle,” he answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you want to spend hours and hours walking around the department store when we can get the job done in five minutes.”
“Well, you’re doing a very sloppy job, bonehead.”
“At least we could get to the decorating part thanks to my intervention.” He crosses his arms. “Otherwise, we’d still be at the mall.”
“God, you are such a—ugh! Fine, let’s get on with it.”
Alhaitham hums in agreement—of course, he never bothers to spare more words than necessary. That’s an invitation to you, though, to provoke him till you have his full attention. Call it childish but you enjoy the cracks in his solid stances.
Besides, it’s not like he cares.
What you have is not a crush anymore—it’s festered into something more vile, more self-serving, and more fun. It’s not like it was back in college, when you could quarrel to your hearts’ content over assignments and exam scores. You have adult jobs now and seeing each other is much more irregular. You never expected silence to be so full of disquiet.
However, the Christmas reunion every year gets blood rushing to your arteries faster than you let on. There is no greater spectacle for your friends than you and Alhaitham trying to one-up each other over every little festive detail. Last year, it was a squabble over the Christmas music selection, and the year before it was about the photos not turning out quite so well (Refer: Alhaitham’s lack of aesthetic sense), and once it was even about who’s the better driver just because you decided to drive to midnight mass. Let’s not even get started on preparing Christmas dinner. At the very least, though, your friends get to enjoy extravagant gifts from your unspoken gift-giving competition. It’s not like you’ll let a man flash his dollars in your face when you earn just as much, if not more.
This year, obviously, you need to coach him on style.
“Don’t hang that on the tree—oh Jesus, I must personally apologize to you for whatever this heathen is doing to the tree. I promise I had no part in it—”
“Will you quit babbling and try to get shit done?”
You scoff. “I’d rather swallow concrete than let you put that up. I’m trying to save all of our eyes.”
“I highly doubt you have the capability.”
Alhaitham may not be that interested in this but like hell he’d let you do better. That’s the sort of man he is.
“You narcissistic ass…” You mutter, standing on your tiptoes to hang the rest of the little gift boxes.
“My, aren’t you sweeping self-awareness under the rug today?”
“Go fuck yourself, Alhaitham.”
You can feel the smirk on his face even if you don’t look up at him.
To be very honest, you’re quite comfortable with how it is. Any step further, and you’ll be falling and scraping your knees; any larger distance and you’ll be bored out of your mind.
“Not that.”
You pull Alhaitham back by his sweater, somehow uglier than yours when you’ve been winning ugly sweater competitions since age eight. Seriously, whatever Eldritch horror rendition of a llama is on his sweater freaks you out. Apparently his niece stitched it herself so you’ll cut him some slack. It’s rather sweet of him, even.
“If not these, then what?” Alhaitham sighs, holding back the little neon murderers of the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to leave half the tree plain?”
“Obviously not, idiot. I’ll fashion some dice into ornaments. Ooh, maybe I can wrap some fruits in aluminum foil and hang them. I’ll paint.”
“What a nuisance,” he mutters, eyelids lowered. You swear it’s your lips he’s staring at but that can’t be possible.
It must be a trick of the light. You look away, shifting your focus to the leftover fairy lights.
“And- and I have ribbons,” you continue, pretending you never noticed. “There’s also some Kalpalata lotuses we could stick in the branches. That’d be pretty, right?”
“Mhm, yes. Very unique.”
Your eyebrows travel halfway to your hairline. Alhaitham furrows his brows at your stunned silence, unsure of what caused the reaction.
“That’s the first time you’ve complimented me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
Alhaitham’s serious response to your rivalry used to be your best validation. It’s not like you mind the occasional nice words though.
“Ooh, that makes me crave it more,” you tease, elbowing him as he purposely avoids your gaze.
“You get older but never wiser, do you?” He grumbles.
“Then, O Great Sage, what is your wisdom tonight?”
Alhaitham turns to you sharply, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You can’t even take a step back for fear of the tree toppling. It seems he’s effectively grounded you. The lack of distance, however, does not fall inside your comfort zone. Is it terrible that you can’t stop staring? Everything about him is so annoyingly attractive, from the high cheekbones to the perfectly carved lips.
“I know you enjoy pushing my buttons,” he speaks by your ear, voice low. “And efficiency is not a key you’ve ever held. But let’s try, hm?”
You’re only cheeky out of habit. “Do you like watching me squirm? Pervert.”
Alhaitham breathes out, clearly accepting his defeat. “It’s five already. Everyone arrives in two hours.”
You shrug. “We’re pretty much done, aren’t we? Unless you want me put in an ice rink and a cocktail bar too, your highness.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re starting to miss the biting retorts. “Did you check the lights like I asked you to?”
“Oh shit.”
The Christmas lights are at least eight feet long and you have no idea why he has these. This man does not look like he feels any emotion from fairy lights. They’re braided every five light bulbs, and much to your and Alhaitham’s chagrin, they flicker and die midway. They are pretty though, emanatinga. warm golden glow. Very
“God, I could be out partying right now,” you groan. “Why did I sign up for this?”
“That sounds like a plan. Please do me a favor and go partying.” Alhaitham takes the plug out of the socket, sighing. You press your lips into a thin line and snatch the plug, testing out the wiring. It’s just a little puzzle to solve. You’ve dealt with enough home electricals in your life. You can’t say the same for Mr Paper-for-brains.
“Despite your looks, you’re somehow the nerdiest loser I’ve ever met.” You huff, taking out each bulb and placing bits of aluminum foil to ensure the connections.
“What, because I don’t spend my Friday evenings inebriated?”
“Alcohol could do you some good, actually.”
He meets your retort with a sigh and you take it as a victory. You’re not some child throwing a tantrum that willful ignorance of your actions will get you to feel remorse.
“It’s already sunset.” Alhaitham clicks his tongue. “The clock’s ticking and you still haven’t rid your habit of messing around with every little thing you see.”
“I’m not messing around! I just wanna solve it like a puzzle.”
“We could just buy new ones,” he states, a deadpan stare directed at you.
“...Or we could do that.” You turn away, breaking eye contact. “But seriously, don’t you find joy in solving some problems the hard way? Like, you wouldn’t set fire to a puzzle as an attempt to solve it.”
Alhaitham pauses, lips parted slightly but he can’t come up with a retort. He’s probably just amazed at your exceptionally stupid example. Even if that was your attempt to salvage your ego, you’re not entirely lying. You wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t have the tendency to take longer, more troublesome, and more scenic routes. Your original sin is never letting go.
“Cat got your tongue?” You offer him a sarcastic smile. “I know it’s not the same—”
“The way you think is quite fascinating,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand—I’m drawn to it.”
You swallow your own words. Out of all the possible sentences that could’ve come out of his mouth, that wasn’t the one you were expecting.
“You’re creative,” he hums, tapping his fingers against the couch headrest idly. “And you’re strange.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
For the first time this evening, Alhaitham laughs. It’s dry, but it’s a deep sound nonetheless. You can’t take your eyes off him.
“Somehow, I can never understand you,” he responds, leaning back against the wall. “Maybe I never will. You piss me off.”
You let go of the lights and move to sit on the couch arm, looking up at him with a wondrous smile.
“And yet, you always stare at my lips. Are you so eager for the profanities that leave them?”
“I do not.”
A subtle snarl twists his lips.
“Oh? You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
“Do I now?”
His voice is raised, and he’s no longer leaning against the wall. This is getting exciting. You’d do anything to keep his eyes on you.
“Yes, and you can’t stand it,” you state your theory, even if you don’t believe in it. There are limits to the lengths you’ll go, but you haven’t reached there yet.
Alhaitham knits his brows, clearly soured with the exchange by now with his tense shoulders and deep frown. You quite like that look on him. Especially when he looks at you like that at this proximity. It’s an honor to rile up the Alhaitham, infamous throughout your academic life. You’re not so bad yourself.
You blow a raspberry at him. “Do it, coward. Kiss me.”
“You know what? Fucking gladly.”
Before you can process it, a soft pair of lips push against yours, while his hands hold you by the waist to keep you in place. You give in for a flash of a second, before you pull away with a gasp. That was not good for your heart. However, you’re not the only one in dire conditions.
Alhaitham is a sight to behold. His face is the color of ripe Henna berries—you’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the fact that he’s still pissed off at you. You reach out to press your palm against his cheek, the gesture softening his gaze ever so slightly.
This time, you tug him in, the kiss hesitant at first before the two of you ease into it. When your noses bump, you hold back a giggle and you can feel him smile against your lips. Oh, you’ve never seen all these hues and shades before. You pull away, and he nearly chases your lips before his ego yanks him back by the collar.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” You smirk.
“Not a chance.”
“Then look me in the eyes.”
Alhaitham meets your gaze with no protest whatsoever, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Even in defeat, he manages to look like the arrogant bastard he is.
“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart,” you tut.
Alhaitham raises an eyebrow.
“Tell me again, what you said to me at graduation.”
“What did I say?” You feign ignorance. At the time, it seemed like an appropriate response to him holding up his 4.0 over your 3.95. The goal was never just summa cum laude.
“That you hate me,” he answers, pulling you closer and closer till his mouth hovers above yours. “Tell me you hate me and call me a liar once more. I dare you.”
“I hate you,” you breathe against his lips, “I hate you so much.”
“Liar.” The smile against your lips is sweeter than holiday season. In fact, it might even be comparable to your rich chocolate cookies in ecstasy.
You pull away with a teasing smile. “Have you been thinking I hate you for all these years?”
Alhaitham rolls his eyes to the side, completely ignoring your remark.
“You like me, don’t you?” Your smile grows wider, a sudden rush of schoolgirl infatuation filling you.
“How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that conclusion?”
The sarcasm drips like honey off his voice. As if you couldn’t fall any further.
“Maybe you should kiss me again, so I can gather more evidence for a stronger conclusion. I wouldn’t go wrong with my hypothesis.” You lean in, grinning as brightly as the stars in the sky.
He hums, fighting back a smile. “Well, I do support the scientific method.”
“Okay, so whatever feud you’re having, I’m on (name)’s side—oh.”
Kaveh freezes at the doorway. Surely, the one image he never would’ve conjured up in his head was that of you sitting on the floor between Alhaitham’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sort through your Christmas cards. And the two of you are laughing. Is that not cause for concern?
“You know, when people are built like a coconut tree, they shouldn’t be standing in front of doors—oh.”
Cyno is your next victim, and his jaw drops less conspicuously than Kaveh’s does but it surprises him nonetheless. He swears on his gold star espeon card that he’d sooner expect Alhaitham to drop dead than admit his crush on you. No, even if he got over his emotional constipation, Cyno didn’t think you’d be at peace without pressing something to his throat. It truly is a Christmas miracle.
“Boys, can we not clog the doorway?” Dehya groans. “I get that this is the first time you knuckleheads have ever sensed emotion, but we saw this coming a mile away.”
“Oh, don’t be mean, Dehya,” Dunyarzad pokes Dehya’s side, causing the latter to giggle and wrap her arm around Dunyarzad’s waist. “Besides, you went into shock too when I suggested they might have a thing for each other.”
Dehya opens her mouth and closes it again. “You got me there.”
“Alright now, everyone,” Nilou stands on her tiptoes to peek over Kaveh and Dehya’s shoulders. “I set them up and I can’t see the fruit of my efforts.”
“You did what?!” You yell, getting pulled down by Alhaitham when you try to get up. Shooting him a glare, you get comfortable anyway.
“Oh, now you hear me.”
You try your best to not look offended. Alhaitham tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in curiosity towards the information Nilou just dropped. There’s no schemes without him.
“You just needed an excuse and I knew—”
“Nilou, please stop talking, I’ll buy you more shiba inu figurines.”
“No bribe can—”
“Broadway tickets.”
Nilou makes a gesture of zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed, your highness.”
Alhaitham sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You do know that I’m aware of your advances? You’re not very subtle.”
Your jaw drops, offended. “I thought I was being sexy and flirty and mysterious.”
“You were literally none of those. All you did was drive me up a wall.”
“But did that work?”
“Yes.”
Kaveh makes a gagging sound. “If you guys start making out during Nightmare before Christmas, I will vomit all over you.”
“Did you pay rent or are you going to dirty someone else’s living room?” Alhaitham asks.
Kaveh looks away, whistling a note. It elicits a wave of laughter, and like dominoes, Christmas eve is set into motion. The presents line the base of the tree, the lights have been dimmed till only the fairy lights shine, and Alhaitham has started the hallmark movie after much grumbling.
Maybe the Christmas spirit has some meaning after all; and you could debate this with your boyfriend, but it is the most wonderful time of the year to celebrate anniversaries.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact imagines#alhaitham scenarios#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham x you#alhaitham imagines#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#al haitham x reader#al haitham x you#al haitham fluff#yoimix.fic#yoimix.event#ho ho holy shit im exhausted#alhaitham is my e2l king i love dialogue#went last min gift shopping today and had to wrap them at the speed of light#our tree is very handsome tho#so is the dog#the alternate title is: deck the halls and also his face
400 notes
·
View notes
Text
a quick lil something to put an end to my sugar mommy irene brainrot...
-
irene would always make time for her.
jihyo’s days weren’t close to being as busy as irene’s. all she had to worry about was keeping her grades high at college, and then she’d spend hours online searching for pretty accessories that irene would like to see her wearing — buying everything with irene’s money, of course. at that point jihyo didn’t have to ask anymore, using irene’s card as if it was her own.
but jihyo didn’t really need all of that. coming from a rich family, all jihyo had to do was follow the rules to have whatever she wanted, and she wouldn’t need a sugar mommy if it wasn’t for her bad behavior. that, however, wasn’t in jihyo’s plans, and when she met irene, she knew exactly what she wanted from her.
at times, there were special occasions, such as events irene had to attend or important business dinners. and jihyo loved those, especially because she got to be irene’s arm candy and wear fancy clothes that she didn’t get to make use of on the daily.
“which one you liked better? the purple dress has a prettier shape, but i liked the shade of the blue on the first one…”
there was no point in replying — in the end, jihyo would either buy whatever she deemed pretty or say that the store didn’t have what she was looking for, then make irene take her somewhere else, wasting irene’s time for the sake of pretty clothes.
irene knows her all too well, so she pays attention to important matters on her phone, getting work done while jihyo played dress up.
“wear the purple one, baby. suits you nicely.” irene replies absentmindedly, thumbs writing something down on her phone quickly, not going unnoticed by jihyo.
“you didn’t even look. there is no purple dress.” jihyo huffs, grabbing irene’s phone. “pay attention to me,” she grumbles, sighing dramatically as she makes her way to irene’s lap, sitting sideways.
only then irene realizes the lack of clothing. she should’ve expected to see jihyo bare, as she had been trying on dresses, searching for the prettiest one to wear at a business event she’d attend with irene. but it still surprises her.
“and what for? to see you taking off your clothes and wearing them back again… i’m not even allowed to touch,” irene remarks, a graceful hand moving a strand of jihyo’s hair away from her chest. “so what’s the point of looking?”
jihyo chuckles, hooking her arms around irene’s neck. “the point is to admire me. see how lucky you are to have me.”
“but that i already know,” irene laughs sweetly, her hand stopping by jihyo’s bare thigh, manicured nails pressing lightly at her smooth skin. “i need to go back to work. you’re taking the red dress, aren’t you?”
“so you were paying attention.” jihyo smiles, crossing her legs, exposing her legs even more. “already tired of me?”
“of course i was looking at you. but it’s business hours, baby. some people have to work,” irene reasons. “and i’ll never tire of you.”
satisfied with her answer, jihyo leans in, kissing her intensely — it’s always that way, a balanced amount of tender and rough. she lets irene know that if they weren’t inside a fitting room, she’d be taking irene’s hand inside her panties.
not that jihyo minded to do it there. the mere thought of getting fucked right there and then makes her moan against irene’s lips, and while jihyo didn’t mean to get anything else from irene, she feels a grip behind her thigh, prodding at the curve of her ass, and then a hard smack against her smooth skin, certainly going to leave a mark.
“weren’t you complaining about w-work...” jihyo breathes, a pang of arousal rippling through her, going directly to her soaking core.
“that can wait a little longer,” irene muses, tracing a path from the small of her back up to her bra, unclasping it gingerly. “so let me play with my pretty girl, mmh?”
jihyo holds her breath when her bra slips down and irene’s warm tongue curls around her hardened nipple, biting it carefully before releasing the bud, peppering kisses all over jihyo’s chest.
the position didn’t allow irene to do much, and she didn’t want to either. all she wanted was to play with her girl before heading to work, taking the other nipple between her lips, with no intention to make jihyo come whatsoever.
“more, mommy!” jihyo chants prettily, wanting to get up to sit on irene’s lap properly, but an arm around her waist keeps her right where she is. “down there, i need…”
“no.” irene denies her, and jihyo knows then that she wasn’t going to get much else from irene.
it still felt good. every suckle and bite making her body tremble, chest bare for irene to explore and leave bruises, the ache down at her core ignored completely by irene, a burning sensation in her stomach growing harder each second. jihyo whines, knowing she’d only get more by night — if irene was kind enough to touch her then, that is.
irene pulls away, just so, to see how flushed jihyo’s chest it, nipples wet with drool and new hickeys adorning her pretty breasts. she was careful enough to leave her marks where nobody would see them, knowing about jihyo’s taste for wearing tops that exposed her cleavage.
“look so darling like this.” irene coos mockingly, bringing both hands to squeeze her tits hard, making jihyo utter a sharp cry at the pain, clenching around nothing, nearly shedding tears. “c’mon, get up. we can have lunch, and then i’ll send you home.”
jihyo trembles when irene’s hand roams down, slapping her ass one last time before making her pull away.
“such a meanie...” jihyo sighs, already used to that kind of treatment, but she knew she deserved the edging after taking irene away from work solely to watch her getting naked in front of her.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 4: Thigh Riding with Song Mingi
Warnings: Thigh riding, dirty talk, orgasm denial/edging, Mingi is mean, mentions of sexting, punishment/mentions of punishment, use of the word whore, Mingi mentions the other members wanting to fuck mc, reader has a vulva, no specific pronouns.
Word Count: 1.5k (Shorter than the others I’ve done so far rip)
The smirk on Mingi’s face makes you want to cry, and you genuinely do tear up. His evil grin only widens when he notices, his big hand gripping at your hips, forcing you to move against him. You cry out, trying to pull your hands out of his grip, but he won’t let you.
“Aw baby, you want to touch me, hm?” You nod. You shut your eyes, unable to look at him when he laughs. “Well then you should have thought about that before you decided to act like a whore.” He tenses the muscles in his thigh, making you moan helplessly and wiggle against him.
“Mingi please just-”
“No.” You whine at him, knowing you’re a long way from getting what you want. You can’t even try to appease him with your kisses. He won’t let you. Somewhere deep down, you know that you deserve this, but you aren’t going to admit that to him. Especially not when he’s torturing you like this.
Maybe trying to distract him all day wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. He was noticeably stressed when you almost made him late to practice because you were whining for him to stay with you. He was short with you when you tried to call him. And when you started sending him the pictures of yourself? You should have taken his lack of a reaction as a clue that you were in deep already, but no. You decided to keep pushing him. You sent him pictures of your body clad in lingerie, the new sets he had just bought you. Sent audio recordings of you whining and moaning, the faint buzz of a vibrator heard in the background. And when you sent him a video of your hands working away between your thighs Mingi lost it. He made it home in record time, trapping you in his arms before you had the chance to run away.
The way his arms squeezed you, making sure you couldn’t get away, and the way his voice sounded when he whispered in your ear where are you going, little dove? turned your blood cold. You could only swallow, breathing shakily. He moved you to the couch, turned you to face him and pulled you down onto his lap. And now here you are, straddling his thick, covered thigh with your panties dangling off of your ankle are your shoulders aching from the way he has your arms restrained behind you.
“I told you, countless times, that I had a busy day today. But instead of listening, what did you do?” You’re silent, biting your lips and trying not to cry out for him. He jerks you forward harshly, making you gasp. “Answer me when I ask you a damn question. What did you do?”
“I ignored you..” He raises his eyebrows at you, tilting his head slightly. “And… tried to distract you by doing stuff that I’m not supposed to.” He tenses his thigh again, making your face scrunch at the pleasure. “Mingi, please. Just touch me properly, I promise I won’t do it again.” He shakes his head, tutting at you.
“You never learn, do you dove?” You whine again. You decide to give up on getting him to free you for now, instead trying to angle your hips to provide yourself a proper amount of stimulation. Unfortunately, he notices, and keeps you from shifting. “You know, I’m not the only one who heard that little recording of you. Practically begging for my cock, isn’t that pathetic? Yunho certainly thought so.” Embarrassed tears are pricking at your eyes, but you can do nothing but let them fall. Mingi licks at your cheek, humming at the way they taste. “Is that what you wanted, dove? To be a whore for my friends?” You shake your head quickly, making him laugh.
“You could have simply asked if that’s what you wanted. They’d love to see you fucked out all for them. They’ve told me so.” You whine at that, trying yet again to get your hands out of Mingi’s grip. With a grin you know you should be wary of, he lets you go. Your hands are immediately on his shoulders, you’re leaning forward to plant sloppy kisses on his mouth, jaw, neck. When your kisses become too heated for his liking, Mingi pulls away from you.
“Don’t get too excited, dove. I only let you go to give you more leverage.” You give him a confused pout, your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to ride my thigh until I tell you to stop. And you’re not going to come.” Your stomach drops.
“But I want you.” He shrugs.
“It’s either this or nothing at all. You better get to work before I get bored.” You restrain yourself from releasing a frustrated growl, knowing that it will only piss him off. Your muscles relax just a little when he allows you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He hums, and you know he’s starting to get impatient.
As soon as your hips begin to move, he lifts his leg up, pressing his tensed muscle and rough fabric of his pants against your already sensitive pussy. You whine, your hips jerking away from the sensation. He pulls you back in though, prompting you to continue. You start again, your pace slow. Mingi sighs.
“I know you can do better than that, dove. Faster.” You rest your forehead against his shoulder, rolling your hips forward and back again and again. The oversensitivity quickly turns into pleasure, and you’re biting Mingi’s shirt to stifle your moans. You forget what he told you earlier, your hips pressing harder and faster into him. He lets you do it, and you don’t even notice his smirk, too busy chasing your high. His nails dig into the skin of your sides, but it only spurs you on. Your cries are getting progressively louder, until they’re high in pitch and you’re sure the neighbors are going to knock on your door with complaints. Just as your body starts to tense, Mingi is holding you completely still.
“What did I tell you?” Your heart sinks, your head dropping onto his collarbone as you pant. It feels like your entire lower body is aching.
“Mingi, please. I’m sorry, just please let me come.” You cringe internally at how desperate you already are for him. You can’t really blame him when he scoffs.
“After the stunts you pulled today, I don’t know if you’re going to be coming all week.” You whine in protest but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. His hands are pulling you over his thigh once more and you tense.
“Mingi I don’t know if I can- at least give me a minute, please-”
He doesn’t respond. His pace is slow but he drags you down hard against him, the friction almost painful against your clit. He hums, his chest vibrating against you as you hug his body tight against yours, tucking your head under his chin.
“It’s too much!” He doesn’t stop, but he does press a soft kiss to the top of your head. It instantly melts away most of your worries, and he offers you the quietest of praises as he helps you rock into him. He lets you take over once again, his hands resting on your hips. It doesn’t take long and you’re getting close again. This time, you’re paying attention. You stop yourself before your orgasm creeps up, but Mingi seems to have other plans.
His grin has returned, his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips once more, and he’s dragging you against him again. His pace is faster than before and your back arches into him.
“Mingi wait, I can’t! I’m gonna come, please let me come.” Your eyes are closed, face scrunched as you use all your strength to hold back. He only grins as the desperation in your voice.
“No.” Your fingers fist his shirt, searching for some form of stability. You’re shaking your head, trying to lift yourself off of him, but he holds you tight. You release dry sobs, your head thrown back when you just give in. “Mingi- Coming!” Your abdomen tenses, your body shaking against the man. Your chest is heaving when he finally stops, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close to him. He pets your hair gently, cooing at you in his deep voice.
“I’m sorry, Mingi. I’m sorry, I can’t take anymore. I-” He shushes you with a soft kiss and you can feel the way his lip twitches in a smirk.
“We’ll talk about your punishment later, dove. Just let me hold you for now, hm?” You nod, too tired to address the quiet nervousness resting in your gut at his mention of a punishment. “You did well for me, my little dove. I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it, it’s alright.” You nod against him, inhaling his scent when you press your nose into his shirt.
“I love you, Mingi.” He smiles, pulling you up to sit properly in his lap. He kisses your cheek, arms wrapping tighter around you to keep you warm.
“I love you too, dove. Now rest, you’ll need it later.”
#kinktober 2022#kpop kinktober#kpop smut#kpop x reader#kpop x reader smut#song mingi smut#mingi smut#mingi x reader#mingi x reader smut#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez x reader smut
214 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sure You Aren’t
AN: Been busy today, so posting this later. I just think that the Traveler deserves to be wrecked. Here’s day 5!
Beauregard and Fjord stood at the tree line, watching Artagan my as he sat on the ground doing seemingly nothing.
"Just look at him. Jester's out there busting her balls for him and he's just fucking meditating or some shit? He didn't even bother to offer any help," Beau ranted quietly.
"I know! It's like he could care less that she's doing this for him!" Fjord agreed in an angry hush. He crossed his arms and glared at him from afar.
"I don't trust him."
"Well duh, neither do I. But... we trust Jester, so we have to at least tolerate him. For her sake," she reasoned.
Fjord sighed. "I know, I just- I wish there was some way we could feel him out. See what his true intentions are. Is she really just his scape goat so he can leave his own cult? Or is there something else at play?" he wondered aloud, picking at his tusk. An old nervous habit that was trying to come back since he'd started growing them out. He stopped once he noticed.
Beau snorted. "Why don't you go ask him."
It was sarcasm, Fjord knew that. But it gave him an idea. "Or how about we go ask him?" he asked with a new wave of enthusiasm.
"Eh?"
Fjord rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, guiding her away as he explained his plan. Evil grins stretched across both their faces the more he talked.
Artagan heaved a deep sigh and stared up into the night sky when a snapping twig got his attention. He turned to see two of Jester's friends approach him.
"Oh, hello! Come out for some fresh air?" he asked as they sat on either side of him.
"Nah, we were hoping to talk to you, actually," Beau started. His ears perked up.
"Really? But I thought you hated me," he teased, though the words felt genuine. Fjord cleared his throat.
"That's kind of why we wanted to talk."
"Oh?" he questioned with a tilt of his head.
"We want to trust you, but- we need you to prove to us that you're not just gonna fuck us over in the end," he said bluntly.
"Ah. I see," he said, looking at the ground. "I wish there was something I could say to convince you I mean no ill will," he heaved a heavy sigh.
"Well... maybe you could do something to prove your loyalty," Beauregard suggested. He thought about it with a curious hum.
"Like what?"
"How 'bout you start with answering a question," she cracked her knuckles. Artagan suppressed the urge to swallow.
"Sounds easy enough. Ask away." It was an open invitation. Fjord and Beau locked eyes for a fleeting moment and they shared a devilish look. She took the lead.
"Got any... weaknesses we should know about? So we can keep an eye out," she added weakly. The arch fae saw right through her.
"That's rather vague, and I can tell you're searching for something specific," she said, calling her out to her face. She cleared her throat.
"Alright then. Are you ticklish?" she asked, feigning casual. The question took him off guard, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he turned to look at them.
"Well that's certainly not what I'd thought you'd ask. I see why Jester likes you all so much."
"Answer the question," Fjord pressed, the hint of a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. Artagan straightened himself and answered matter of factly.
"Sadly, I'm not ticklish."
Beau snorted and Fjord stifled a laugh. "You don't expect us to believe that, do you?" she asked incredulously.
"Why not?" he challenged.
"Just seems kinda, off brand for a god of chaos not to be ticklish," Fjord mused. "But you're not a god. Just some dude, best I recall."
Artagan looked from Fjord's knowing smirk to Beauregard's sly one. "What do you want?"
"Just remember this if you ever think about double crossing us," Fjord warned.
"Why would I-" he wasn't able to finish the thought before they both pounced on him.
Fjord tackled him to the ground and managed to pin his arms above his head while Beau straddled his waist. She wasted no time and dug her fingers into his ribs, pinching the bone and scribbling the spaces in between. He squealed and clamped his mouth shut before anymore nosies could escape, but muffled giggles could still be heard.
"Gotta be honest dude, we're just doing this to fuck with you."
"Beau!"
"What? Did you wanna keep up the act?" she asked jokingly, grabbing just under his ribcage and shook her hands into his soft sides. He arched his back with a loud shriek before falling into deep, hysterical laughter.
"Eh, not really," Fjord conceded. "I just needed an excuse to put this bastard in his place," he growled playfully, adjusting his hold on Artagan's hands so he had them pinned under his knees. With his newly freed hands, he scratched from his elbows down to the tops of his armpits.
Artagan's eyes flew wide open and he barked out a loud laugh, tugging on his trapped arms. Though they hated to admit it, the arch fae had a rather endearing and infectious laugh. He was also pretty damn cute when he was laughing like that, pink blush spreading across his cheeks.
"P-plehehease, you're kihihihilling meheheeee!" he whined dramatically through hysterics.
"Yeah, 'cause you'd let us get away with this if you were actually dying," Beau teased. He floundered, unable to come up with a smart retort. His mouth gaped open in shock, allowing a shrill squeal to slip out when he felt something soft and fluffy brush over his pointed ears.
He looked up, expecting to see Fjord holding some kind of fluffy plant or feather. He was incredibly flustered to see him holding two long locks of red curly hair.
Fjord fluttered over his ears, watching as he giggled and writhed beneath them, noting how his blush would darken whenever he'd snort.
"Are you suuure you're not ticklish? Because you're giggling an awful lot for someone who supposedly isn't ticklish," Fjord taunted, rubbing his ears between his thumbs and fingers, and it effectively sent him cackling. Or maybe that was because of the way Beau was squeezing his boney hips. It was hard to tell.
"Stohohop with thehe teheheasing!" he whined, thrashing around on the ground and shaking his head.
"Aww, notice how he only said to stop teasing," she pointed out with a mocking coo. Fjord let out an amused chuckle.
"Ohoho don't think I missed that," he smirked, scribbling blunt nails against his sensitive neck drawing out a stream of high pitched giggles.
Too bad they were interrupted by a new voice.
"Guys? What's so funny over here?" Jester called out as she walked out from behind the trees. She gasped at the sight she saw.
"Oh my gosh, are you guys bonding?" Jester squealed. Both Fjord and Beau practically flew off of him, sporting faint blushes of their own.
"No, we were just proving a point," Beau corrected. Artagan scrambled to his knees and crawled to Jester before scrambling to his feet, using her as a shield.
"They were harassing and bullying me for no good reason!" he accused, trying hard to conceal the wide grin with an exaggerated pout. Jester couldn't help but laugh and pull him into a hug.
"Oh Artie, that just means they like you!" she chirped.
"We do not!" Beau snapped defensively, but even she had a hard time believing her words. Jester waved her off.
"Psh, whatever you say," she said in a mocking tone as she dug mischievous fingers under his arms. He clamped them against his sides with a shriek of betrayal and tried to fight his way from her grip. "Well guys? Are you gonna help or what?"
"Well duh."
"Obviously."
#tickletober#tickletober 2023#tickletober day 5#artagan#the traveler#beauregard lionett#fjord stone#jester lavorre#critical role#critical role fic#critickle role#critickle role fic#ticklish!artagan#ticklish!traveler
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lesson Learned
Pairing(s): Sister Imperator x Fem!Reader x Papa Nihil
Summary: Nihil makes you both late for a dinner with Sister. She doesn’t take it well.
Word Count: 966
Warning(s): NSFW 18+, DONT DO DRUGS, p in v sex, USE PROTECTION! these folks aren’t, dom/sub dynamics, Sister controlling the reign over you and Nihil, edging, overstimulation from edging, creampie, not edited (you have been warned)
AO3 Link
A/N: UMM THERE IS NOT ENOUGH OF THESE TWO. It is downright criminal.
A cigarette hung from her lips. The same lips that held a menacing smirk. Pulling the blunt away with two claws, she circled around the mess. A sweaty, enervated mess that contained the current reigning papa and yourself. Nihil’s bedroom reeked of tobacco, weed, and arousal. A combination that you were starting to get used to.
“Did I say you could stop.” It certainly wasn’t a question. You already knew the answer before a hand grabbed at your neck, nails digging harshly into the frail skin. You winced, “N-no Sister.” Eyes burning with tears.
You should have known better than to follow Nihil on his antics. The mischievous papa is always dragging you into something that would eventually get the two of you in trouble. Especially with Sister Imperator. You had been watching over Papa Nihil while he and a couple brothers of sin got doped up. You managed to not check the time, busy making sure Nihil didn’t get wasted and take too many hits, leading you to miss dinner with Sister in the dining hall. She quickly found you two and sent the brothers on their way.
She retracted her hand, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, slithering her way back to the dark corner she stood in previously. With an impatient flick of her wrist, you began to bounce again. The man below you whined out and pushed his hands against you in protest. A form of a cry bloomed in your throat.
You both have been going for hours without a single release. Every time you're near a high, Sister would find a way to switch things up and make you hold off.
You had made her wait all alone, leaving her embarrassed. Now she is doing the same to you.
How Nihil was refraining with a melted, cross-faded brain was a complete mystery to you. He had been stumbling around by the time Sister stormed in. His black hair stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat. Face paint faded, staining mostly around the eyes. His mouth agape as he panted. He peered up, locking on to your hazy stare. A squeeze to your hip gave you a billow of reassurance. The tears clouding your vision finally dropped. The head of his cock assaulted your sweet spot. Every thrust caused you to tremble.
“P-please.” You pleaded. You didn’t know what you were begging for. Incoherent strings of utterances escaped you. All the strength you had before was gone, your body collapsing right onto the lean man beneath you.
A loud, feminine sigh left Imperator. Heels clacked towards the bed, echoing lightly. A warm palm gently rubbed the small of your back. The gesture made you sob heavier into the chest you were planted on. Hushed exchanges flew over your head, your mind too occupied with the aching and sores attacking your bones. Your abused walls pulsed, your core felt like a never-ending fire.
The sound of a heartbeat fastening against your ear told you something had changed. The soothing palm left while the two on your hips gripped firmly, flipping you over with ease. “-ucking finally.”
“You better be glad I’m being generous, Nihil.” The blonde clenched her teeth. She had joined the pile. Imperator observed the sight, tilting her head. You looked mesmerizing against the plush bedding. Blown pupils pairing a pleading look between the half shut lids. Legs wrapped around Nihil, who was now above you. Eager excitement radiated off of the male, who previously cried like a pathetic bitch.
Sister snaked a hand between her thighs, rubbing her wet core. “Fuck, Sorella. Still so tight.” Nihil pulled all the way just to slam back in. Your mouth opened with a silent scream. Your tender walls clamp down with every pound he gave. His hands fisted the comforter next to your head. The large grucifix Nihil wore dangled against the valley between your breasts.
“Gonna be a good boy and cum inside her? Fill her up nice and warm for me?” The question drew Nihil into a frenzy, his pace impossibly getting faster. Sounds of skin slapping and subtle moans from the blonde woman reverberated. Her hand moved along with the way Nihil thrusted.
You couldn’t handle it anymore. The tight knot in your stomach snapped, tingling sensation hit you in waves. A mix of a yelp and a wail shrieked out of you, whole body uncontrollably twitching. White filled your vision. Nihil continued to ram until his own climax caught him. Jumbles of whines and groans left him as he spilled his seed deep in you, coloring your insides white.
He crumbled to the bed, shaking as he corrected his breathing. Both of your eyes closed, taking in the overwhelming sense of orgasmic bliss. Sister held off, deciding watching the both of you was pleasurable enough. She watched as a strung out Nihil cuddled into your side, his long arm draping over your stomach. She nearly lost her breath looking at the puddle between your legs.
“N-no!” You kicked your legs out, a pitiful attempt to squirm away from the tongue violating you.
“Shh. You did so well. Now continue to be our good girl.” You tucked yourself into the crook of Nihil’s neck. Sweet kisses pressed against your forehead. It nearly distracted you from the hot muscle licking away at your weeping hole. Sister shut her eyes contently, the trembling thighs that squeezed her head and the taste of her two lovers made her intensely euphoric.
Once she deemed she had gotten every last drop, she pulled away smirking. Sister shifted beside you, taking the empty side polar to Nihil. A long talon twirled a string of your hair, petting it out of your face. “Next time, don’t be late.” You and the Papa only nodded, drifting off shortly.
#sister imperator#young sister imperator#papa nihil#young papa nihil#papa emeritus zero#sister imperator x reader x papa nihil#sister imperator smut#papa nihil smut#the band ghost#ghost fic#sister imperator x reader#papa nihil x reader
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘Sorry’ does not stop it from hurting!
Pairing: Oikawa x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing
This is just some drabble I did a while a go and thought I’d post it. I’ve not really been feeling my writing lately and the people I used to share this with aren’t around anymore. So, I hope you guys can enjoy it :)
The main idea for this was rival business and a very persuasive Oikawa... but when is he not.
Summary: What can you do when you work across the road from the most wanted man in the world? Ignoring him seemed like the best bet, but he doesn't like that and has many other ideas.
You had not managed to dodge the incoming attack. The dark coloured liquid targeting your chest like you were its assigned mission. Small splatters peppering your face like bullets.
“Fuck, fuck,fuck–”
It was not the smartest idea. Idiotic. The silk material you had put on simply this morning clung to every part of you as you ripped it over your neatly tied back hair.
“My apologies.” A familiar voice said. “Oh– I don’t think here is the best–”
“Sorry does NOT stop it from hurting, ass--” You gritted your teeth. “– fuck!”
Half leant over, you used your knees to stabilise yourself, the tingle of heat still dancing across your chest.
“Not very ladylike.”
After a moment, you turned your head to face the man. Although you recognised the modulated low voice, you hadn’t paid attention to its owner.
He was wearing a crisped ironed suit, the black blazer jacket slumped over his broad shoulder and his tie loosely hung from the collar of his buttoned down shirt. This was a far cry from the man you recognised him as.
“What’s up with the suit…” Your eyes took themselves up and down the six foot, scowing man, his hand hovering over your back. You swatted it away, “Fuck, what was your name again?”
Is offence was a cologne he was certainly wearing it. “Oikawa.” He stated.
He followed your arms, both of them cutting across your chest when you stood up to face him. Heat burned through your cheeks, giving your crisom, recently exposed bra, a run for its money. A sudden blazer became the saviour of your remaining modesty.
“I’ve worked across the road from you for five years and you still can’t remember my name.”
“I don’t even know the names of the people I work with,” you said, placing the blazer on. “You’re lucky we are in a park, would probably be on someone’s facebook live by now!”
“I take it I won’t be getting the blazer back for a few days then?” He attempted a laugh.
You didn’t.
Oikawa cleared his throat. “Do you live far?”
“Far enough.”
You pick up your discarded blouse and cross over towards the exit of the park, the soft material pressed tightly against your numb skin.
It wasn’t until a bald head glided past you that you met the second attack for the afternoon - a solid shoulder slamming into your freshly wounded front. Your feet remained planted and the frantic footsteps plodded in the other direction. Rage turned over your insides. What the heck! One - who drinks hot coffee in thirty-five degree weather… and two! Am I FUCKING INVISIBLE!
Oikawa, meanwhile, glanced around his surroundings, scanning to ensure there were in fact no witnesses to the previous situation. By the time he caught back up with you, you were almost at your intended destination.
“Let me buy you a new top!”
“What?” You groaned.
“As an apology.”
“Is that your way of picking up women, spilling hot coffee on them?” you asked, your chest suddenly tight.
“You have to admit it is effective in removing clothes.” You gave a short laugh and when you did not answer he continued. “If anything you technically owe me a drink. Given you are wearing mine.”
You threw your head back, removing your hand as you examined the sky above you. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. Why did he have to have a black suit …
“Do I now?” you said bringing your head back down. “How rude of me not to offer.”
“You are forgiven.” You blinked at his braiseness, “And as an olive branch, how about I upgrade my offer to a dress. You can wear it tonight when you buy me my drink.”
Briefly forgetting he’d just scalded you with coffee, a small smile broke through your facade, only to be returned to normal. It was clear women liked Kuroo. It didn’t take a genius to see your colleagues swoon at a simple wave or smile. Of course you weren’t blind, you could understand the appeal; easy on the eyes, a partial gentleman, maybe some of your co-workers would pay for him to spill coffee on them for even a second of his time. Oikawa was certainly different from many of the other men you had met.
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t the type of guy to take no for an answer?” A strain of impatience grew on your tone.
There was a pause .He slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his suit, your heart thumped erratically in your chest, only to be quelled when he pulled out a brown leather wallet. He handed you a card. You had not intended to take what he was handing you but your body traitorously accepted his offer. What did it matter if you accept some money for a new –
“What do you do in that building! Money laundering?! This could get me a new car!” Your voice echoed through the street, causing a couple of heads to turn before you lowered your voice, “I’m sorry but it’s too much.”
Oikawa made no effort to accept your return, his hand swallowing your arm as he led you off to the side of the underground building. The chipped and graffitied concrete walls barricaded you both in. It was far from cosy, even with the mid-summer sun beating down on you both, and yet privacy slapped you hard in the face.
He smiled down at you. A beautiful compliment to his prominent jawline.
“If it’s enough to buy a new car, then do it and you can pick me up at seven.”
“Seven?” You repeated.
“Yeah, I can pick you up for seven. What a perfect suggestion.”
When he gave you another smile, you had to give him credit. He was good.
But as quick as your intrigue had risen, it was cut off by the irritating sound of bells.
“Are you going to get that?” You said, stepping back out onto the street.
His attention was quick to the screen.
Doesn’t look good… not that you care…why do you care...
“Is everything ok–”
“I’ll see you at seven.”
He hightailed it out the narrow space, missing your tiny physique by inches. Confused and flustered, Oikawa shrank into the distance. His large frame soon swallowed in the ocean of suits and briefcases until you were left swamped in his thick blazer.
How someone can work in such heavy material will never cease to amaze you. You turned back to the entrance of the underground, feeling in his pockets.
Damn! He took his wallet.
#haikyu x reader#haikyu x you#oikawa angst#oikawa fic#oikawa x you#oikawa fanfiction#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime fanfiction#haikyuu smut
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sorry to be in your asks again about this 😭 but I love your posts and the resources you've got
How the fuck do you cope with not feeling punk enough as a disabled person
Not having the capabilities to actually go out and get involved in your local community and scene, not having the coordination to fix up or make your own clothes
I know it's mostly about philosophy and not (entirely) how you dress or what concerts you can go to, but it's so hard to not feel like I'm failing at being punk when I can't make my own battle jacket or go volunteer with how exhausted I am just from existing 😭😭😭
First, don’t be sorry! I love getting asks (I actually have a lot that I need to get through 😬)
I feel like in order for my answer to have any real meaning, you need some background on me and my life, so I’m going to put a cut so this isnt the longest post known to man lol
Okay, for anyone new, I need to point out here that I approach all of this from a chronically ill perspective. I’m not physically disabled, but I’m certainly not fully functioning by any means. Okay on to the actual answer:
You ask how I cope with not feeling punk enough without being able to get involved in a local scene and dealing with the realities of chronic illness.
When I was in highschool (mind you this was like 7 years ago), I was just starting to get into punk. I was enamored by it. But I grew up country. I was the kid that wore jeans and a flannel every day. To this day I own cowboy boots and a few hats. I still listen to country music when Im sad. So I was a country kid who wanted to be a punk rocker.
My friend group in school thought that was absurd. I was 16 when it first came to my attention that maybe I couldn’t be punk enough. At this point I hadnt even learned the first thing about what punk really means besides ‘sticking it to the man’. My friends, no my best friend at the time, she looked at me and said ‘You arent punk.’ Then she scoffed and went on her merry way. I was sad, I was hurt, but more so I was angry.
I actually stayed friends with her until about a year and a half ago. During that time, I learned everything I could about what it meant to be punk. I cut my hair off, I had a jacket with a few pins on it, I listened mostly to alternative music. But I could never really sew (Im still shit at it and stab myself every time I make an attempt at it), I never listened to the right bands, I never word the right clothes, I didnt go to the right school. Nothing I ever did was going to be ‘punk enough’ for her. Through out most of that time, I was a baby punk who had never met another person in the punk scene. And through out all of that time my supposed best friend never thought I was punk enough. (God this person is honestly a story in and of itself)
But when I went to college, I met new people. And to these people, I was the epitome of punk (mind you their experience with alternative people was basically zero because I went to a christian school). That was a new experience for me and gave me a lot of confidence. I still wasnt around punks, but the girls in my dorm would hear me playing Papa Roach or Falling in Reverse and see me in a band shirt and either avoid me or tell me I was pretty cool. I still didn’t have an actual punk jacket. I didnt know how to sew. I just liked music and was wearing a nirvana shirt I got on sale at walmart.
I tell you this to point out that simply changing my environment, neither of which were full of alternative people, drastically altered my view of myself and if I was ‘punk enough’.
I’ll even give you another example to think about. Is a chemist still a chemist, even when they aren’t surrounded by or doing research with other chemists? If someone likes chemistry and knows a lot about it, but are surrounded by business people, are they not still a chemist, even if they arent the ‘perfect chemist’? I’ll go even further, making your own capillary tubes out of glass pipets is a very common and almost expected skill that most chemists have. I’ve never been successful at this once, does that make me less of a chemist?
You can still be a punk even if you aren’t surrounded by punks. You can still be a punk even if you cant do all the things that are typically expected of punks. Not all punks have the same skill set. Some can sew, some cant. Some can garden, some cant. Some can make graffiti stickers, some cant. Dont try to fit yourself into this box of what punk is ‘supposed’ to be. Punk is whatever you want it to be.
And I know, I know. Theres a difference between knowing that and feeling that. I completely understand. And thats part of why this blog has been so important to me. Like I said, I live in a very rural place. There are no punks. I know a grunge kid and a few teenagers who like to dye their hair. Sure, I live near Pittsburgh, but going into the city isnt a daily occurrence for me. But on tumblr, I’ve met some really amazing punks like @/polyamorouspunk and @/my-chemical-ratz. There is a pretty awesome online community of punks. These people have made me feel welcomed and included in this community, and I’m very thankful for that.
And even if you just want to look at the chronic illness/disabled perspective… your existence is punk. You are here, and you arent being quiet about it. Thats punk. “In the face of extermination say fuck you” may have been aimed at trans people, but it applies just as much to sick and disabled people. You are punk by default.
#mail tag#personal#i hope this helps in some way - I’m sure its not necessarily the answer you were looking for#but its the best answer I have#i cope with not feeling punk enough because i know theres no such thing as not being punk enough
21 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
slendermusk
collect my checkmarks
coco-personal
Coco-chan
jxlesbxshir
who would have guessed it? a queer
homesweethome-design
Home Sweet Home
purpleskkfosblog05
Purples-KillerKlowns-Stuff