#but i promise you it's SO much harder online. it's very hard to make yourself keep up with the work and it's way harder to learn (for me) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatar-anna · 2 years

Text

The Professor

summary: you and harry are perfect strangers

words: 2.5k

tw: none

quick note: this takes place in the current world, but doesn't exactly follow the exact sequence of events as they happened!

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V Series Masterlist

March 2021

Nothing in your life was particularly meritorious, at least to the general public. All your life, you'd been praised for being exceptional, but you never asked to be. You just wanted to live your life in peace, doing what you loved and helping those in unique ways. One day one of your students just happened to get it on film.

You weren’t from England, but you moved there about three years ago to teach forensic, criminal, and behavioral psychology at the University of Cambridge. When students walked into your classroom on the first day of school, they would give you “the look.” It was one you received all your life, the one that said people thought you couldn’t be quite so young and be where you were—collegiate level lecture halls, research labs, touring apartments by yourself, buying wine at a grocery store—and yet, there you stood. You never let the look get to you, though. For you, learning was the top priority, whether students or colleagues underestimated you wasn’t your problem, it was theirs.

As time went on, though, you managed to establish something of a reputation at Cambridge. You were known among students as a favorite professor, one that was hard but fair, and someone who was able to explain the material to any student, no matter what their academic history or learning disabilities might have suggested. You became known for your well-taught and interactive classes, office hours that were worth attending, and a last few minutes of class where you let students ask you whatever they wanted—if they stumped you, you gave them extra credit, if they didn’t, no extra credit. The game was supposed to be a way for students to get to know you better, and to lighten up your classes a bit. You loved to learn, and you wanted your students to enjoy it as much as you did.

It became a popular facet of your classes, students raising their hands and asking questions about theoretical probabilities, quantum physics, what constellations you would find on the opposite hemisphere, or if you could quote a specific line from one of Shakespeare’s poems. You were hardly ever beat, but that just made your students try harder.

Soon enough, students started to film you and post the videos online. You didn’t know what app or what social media platform that was being used, seeing as you had no social media accounts of your own, but you were assured that no one was making fun of you. In fact, it was quite the opposite. People from all over started submitting questions to see if they could best you.

Losing this game was a very rare occurrence, so much so that you hung up a bell in your lecture hall and let the student who posed a question ring it when you couldn’t come up with an answer. If your class got to ring the bell ten times, you’d take the class out for drinks. The bell was hardly ever rung, though, until one day, you picked on a girl who asked one simple question.

“Can you name a Harry Styles song?”

You’d blinked, not at all expecting that question. Popular culture questions came up every now and then, but students mostly asked you about stuff relating to math or history or science, wanting to know just how deep your well of knowledge was. But this question left your mind utterly blank, something that was almost as rare as not getting a question right.

“I—I don’t know who that is,” you said, unable to come up with an answer.

The whole classroom cheered, the first win of the term, and you sent everyone home or off to their next class with the promise to the young woman that you would make sure to give her extra credit on her next assignment.

According to your students, you became known online as the professor who, "knew everything except who the most popular man on the planet was." That didn't really bother you, though, and when you were asked about it, you merely said, "I don't know everything, actually. Sometimes I wish I did, but I don't." That was the end of that, and celebrities were soon left behind.

Then the pandemic happened.

You still had to teach, but even you noticed that online learning in the middle of a global pandemic was less than fun. You tried your best to keep your students engaged, still agreeing to your question and answer game, and ringing a bell for them whenever they got it right.

That’s when students convinced you to get social media. Before lockdown, all you had was your school email address and an old Facebook profile you rarely used, but one of your students claimed that a portion of the Internet liked learning from you, and that after your answer about Harry Styles, your “fanbase,” the student called it, only doubled.

You told your students you’d think about it, but ultimately decided that you weren’t going to. While you appreciated all the benefits of technology, it wasn't really for you. But one day you came across an article about how students of all ages felt like they weren’t actually learning while in quarantine, and you couldn’t shake the feeling you should do something about it, that you could do something about it. So you looked up all the proper equipment, ordered it online, and suddenly you were posting videos of yourself teaching multiple subjects on YouTube, enlisting the help of one of your former students to do the editing and the posting, not really sure what would be interesting or “cool” for viewers.

A following started to build as lockdown continued, and you came to love uploading your videos, if only because it made you happy that you could help more people learn. You were someone who constantly needed an activity to occupy your mind, and filming was a perfect addition to your stay-at-home schedule. You'd mastered entry-level coding, complex cross-stitching, and played multiple games of chess against your cat (who was an excellent opponent). Filming online educational videos seemed like the perfect pastime.

It wasn’t really about popularity or views or notoriety for you, you just wanted to teach, but apparently you had gained almost two million subscribers since your first video. When the world started to open up again and you were allowed back into the classroom with a mask mandate and a hybrid schedule of online and in-person classes, you thought about ending the videos, but the student who edited them for you—who you began to pay once you realized it was something of a full time job for them—convinced you to keep filming. “You could even record some of your lectures and post those,” they’d said, so you kept uploading.

Life had somewhat returned to normal, though now on top of teaching in your lecture hall, you were also still teaching online and filming videos about math and science and any other subjects you could think of. It was a lot of work. At least, it was a lot of work for the average person. But you drank coffee like it was water and had a minor case of insomnia, so there were more than enough hours in the day to get everything done.

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

Free time wasn’t something you knew very well, but you always made time for rare first editions.

You had an acquaintance at an old bookstore close to Cambridge’s campus, and they emailed you saying they were being lent Shakespeare’s first folio and wanted to know if you wanted to see it before they had to put it in the glass display case for the other bookstore guests. You immediately jumped on the chance, buzzing with excitement during all of your lectures on the day you were meant to go.

You got to the bookstore early, so early that the shopkeeper told you it hadn’t arrived yet. So you browsed the shelves until you were called to the back, trying to find something that caught your eye. And you did, it just wasn’t on a bookshelf.

“‘The dawn is my Assyria; the sunset and moonrise my paphos, and unimaginable realms of faerie; broad noon shall be my England of the senses and the understanding; the night shall be my Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams.’”

The man holding the book of poems looked to where you were standing, a perplexed look on his face. “That’s—”

“Nature by Emerson. Chapter three,” you supplied, unable to help yourself. You never tried to come off as arrogant for knowing as much as you did. Knowledge just excited you so much that sometimes it came pouring out of you.

Sometimes people didn’t like being shown up. As a child, your teachers and classmates would find your intelligence and penchant for reciting material that should’ve been much too advanced for your age annoying. But this man didn’t seem to mind, though it was hard to tell with the mask covering half his face.

He flipped through the book before landing on a random page. “Chapter seven, page seventy-three. The line that comes after, ‘to pure spirit, it is fluid, it is volatile, it is obedient.’”

Grinning, you spoke without missing a beat. “‘Every spirit builds itself a house, and beyond its house, a world, and beyond its world a heaven. Know then, that the world exists for you, build, therefore, your own world.’”

His eyes crinkled, and you took that to mean he was smiling, which made something unfamiliar flutter in your stomach. He had nice eyes, you thought. A pretty shade of jade green framed by thick eyelashes.

“Impressive,” he said. “Do you have a photographic memory or something?”

“Or something,” you replied. You had an eidetic memory, a sky high IQ, and a brain that constantly wanted more knowledge. Mix that with ambitious parents and you had three PhDs and four degrees with a fifth one on the way. It was easier not to go into it, though, so you kept your career to yourself.

While your mind was stellar, your communication skills outside of the classroom were not. And once you realized you didn’t have anything else to contribute, you slowly backed away. “Well, happy reading.”

“Hold on,” the man said before you could get too far. “Do you have any recommendations? I’m trying to get back into reading.”

Get back into reading? You would never know what that was like. There was never a moment where you didn’t have at least one book on your person. Biographies, novels, essay collections, it didn’t matter. Reading was your first and only love. Well, except for your cat. Reading was your first and only inanimate love.

“Y/n, it’s here!” the shopkeeper called.

The man looked at you curiously, and you were stuck between leaving him behind and getting a book for him. That could take forever, though! You didn’t know what this person liked or what he was looking for. He had Emerson in his hands, but that didn’t really help you understand his taste. A classic? No, that would be too obvious. Maybe a play? It was a good option, and it would certainly be quicker than a novel.

Your mind sifted through titles and authors and genres, trying to find one that stuck out. It snagged on a title, and you were suddenly saying, “Uh…Wait here.”

Moving through the stacks, you went to the shelf you’d visited a month ago when you happened upon this book. You grabbed your copy and rushed back over to where the man was still waiting.

“I read this last month,” you said, handing the book over. It had all your notes and annotations in it, as you were the only person at this bookstore that got to rent books.

You came so frequently that the shopkeeper made a deal with you—a flat rate once a month for as many books as you wanted. Since your library at home was already quite extensive, you took him up on it, and you’d been renting ever since. Sometimes if you really liked a book, you’d purchase it, but most times you returned it, more often than not with your notes in the margins.

“On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous,” the man said, reading the title off the cover. “Alright, I’ll check it out.”

You didn’t wait around to see if he actually would. With a small wave, you were off, ready to get your hands—gloved, obviously—on a precious artifact.

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

A few weeks later and you were running late to your lecture. In your short teaching career, you’d never been late before. You were almost always early, occasionally on time, but never late. But just as you were leaving, you received a phone call from the police department.

Since you had a doctorate in forensic and criminal psychology and a degree in behavioral psychology, you often offered assistance on certain cases. Nothing like what might be seen on television, but you did read through case files and pinpoint things that were inconsistent or odd, looked at letters and notes to break down linguistics in the hopes that it would give something away, and looked at crime scene photos and provided any kind of knowledge that was stored inside your brain. You didn’t have a badge, and you didn’t go out into the field, but you did what you could. Another thing to keep you busy.

You were asked to look at another case file, which gave you an idea. Honestly, you were shocked you’d never thought of it before.

“This week we’re solving a murder.”

Everyone in your classroom had been chatting quietly, some playfully teasing you for being late to your lecture, until then. Some eyes were wide like they’d just been told you were giving the final today, others looked eager to apply what they’d learned.

You passed out the copies of the old case you got permission from the police department to use, explaining the rules as everyone got a packet. “Starting today, everyone will be getting into groups of three. You will attempt to solve a case from the seventies, using evidence from the case as it was collected. Everything you need is in the file, but I’ve labeled them to designate which day you should open each file. If you pay close attention, you should be able to solve this case quicker than the police did back then. Please do not skip ahead or look up this case online, this assignment is not being graded as such, but it will be an assessment of how much you’ve learned so far and what areas I need to go over more. I will expect a report from your group by the end of the week that details your findings, your process for solving the case, and of course, who did it and why you think so. Sound good?”

“Will you be taking part in the assignment?” one of your students asked.

You considered his question. “I hadn’t thought about it, but sure. I’m ending class early today because I really want you to use this time to focus on the assignment. You can use the classroom if you’d like, but if you are leaving, please let me know your groups beforehand. Have a good day, y’all.”

Nearly everyone left after that, but some groups stayed to work in the lecture hall or ask questions. Once everyone was taken care of, you left the room while flipping through your own case file, but it wasn’t the one you assigned to your class. Your eyes quickly scanned the new file given to you by the lead detective on the case, turning page after page as you looked at preliminary findings, autopsy reports, and possible suspects. Reading at a rapid pace was both a gift and an asset to you, it was what got you so many degrees and such a full library at home.

Unfortunately, sometimes your reading consumed you, and as you were walking and turning to the next page, you bumped into someone.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” you said, trying to catch your papers before they could fly away. Not only were they important, but they weren’t supposed to be read by the general public.

So focused on trying to put your file back together, you didn’t even notice who you bumped into, or that they had crouched down next to you to help. But then a hand rested on your arm and you froze. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking either, to be fair.”

Your ears perked. Your excellent memory stemmed mostly from sight, but you remembered sound quite well too. You knew that voice.

Looking up, you saw the man from the bookstore. His face was covered up again, but his eyes were now covered by a pair of large black sunglasses as well, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, but not enough to cover a small tuft of hair that was clipped together. He didn’t seem to show any signs of remembering you, though, so you didn’t mention your previous encounter.

The man tried to offer you a hand to help you up, but you didn’t take it, for no other reason than restricting the spread of germs. You were always conscious of viral infections and catching things from strangers, but the pandemic made you more paranoid, and now you had a hard time just shaking hands with people.

“Woah,” he said, looking over one of the papers he helped you retrieve before handing it back to you. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” you said matter of factly.

Some people didn’t like your bluntness, but he seemed to take it in stride. “Are you a detective or something?”

“...Or something.”

He took off his sunglasses to look you in the eye. “Or something,” he repeated. “You’re just full of mysteries, aren’t you?”

So he did remember you. “Not really. I just consult for the police department from time to time.”

“This is labeled as a series of murders. Possibly serial,” he said, perplexed by your casual tone.

“It probably is, that’s why I’m consulting,” you said. “But you’re not really supposed to see that, so if I could just get those back, please.”

You reached your hand out for the papers, but he held them just out of reach. “Hold on, now I’m really curious. Where are you headed?”

“Home. Why?”

“I want to know more about what you do. I promise I won’t look at these,” he said, waving the remaining papers in his hand. “And I want to discuss the book you recommended.”

“You read it?” you asked, completely forgetting about part of the case file that was being held hostage.

“Of course. Maybe we could get coffee somewhere? I understand if you don’t want to invite me into your home.”

“It would probably be safer,” you agreed.

His eyes were crinkling, which made you think he was smiling behind his mask. “Because I could be a suspect?”

“What? No, I know it’s not you.”

“I know I shouldn’t be offended, but you wrote me off so quickly,” he joked, but you could tell he wasn’t actually hurt. If he was, it definitely would’ve been a red flag.

You shrugged, reaching your hand out. “You don’t fit the profile.”

“Ah. Right,” he agreed, though you were pretty sure he had no idea what you were talking about. “So, what do you say? Coffee?”

“Well…” You really needed to get home and work on this case. You already had some thoughts about it that would be helpful, and you didn’t want to chance losing parts of the file like you’d nearly just done now. “This is kind of time sensitive.”

“I understand,” the man said, and did you detect a slight twinge of disappointment in his voice? “Can I at least walk you back to your place and we can talk as we go? I promise I’m not a stalker or a murderer or anything. I just really liked the book and need someone to discuss it with.”

Even if he was a stalker or a serial killer, which you didn’t think he was, you had a black belt in two forms of martial arts, so you’d be more than capable of getting away, or at least doing some damage, but you didn’t tell him that. “Sure. I guess that’s okay.”

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

You ended up inviting him into your home. Both of you had so much to say about the book you read, and by the time you made it to your front door, you were only halfway through your recommendation list, so you asked if he wanted to come inside so you could write them all down. He took you up on the offer, holding the door open for you after you unlocked it. He kept his mask on, and didn’t question you when you asked him to wash his hands and slide surgical booties over his shoes. Though things were slowly, very slowly, going back to normal in Cambridge, the virus was still spreading, and you weren’t taking any chances.

“Sorry about the mess, I was in a bit of a rush this morning.”

“I’m not sure you would classify this as ‘mess,’” he replied, his green eyes wide as he took in the main room of your townhouse. There were books everywhere—on large bookshelves, stacked on top of each other next to the bookshelves, on your antique coffee table, and underneath lampstands. The shopkeeper’s deal to rent his books really came in handy, you were running out of space to put them.

While he browsed your bookshelf, you cleaned up your kitchen, putting aways the stray cup and plate you had to leave on your kitchen table this morning to rush to the police station. It wasn’t like you to leave dishes out like that, but you didn’t have the time to clean up after yourself. Now that everything was put away, you could rest a bit easier.

Once everything was cleaned up, you pulled your laptop out of your backpack and began drafting an email. When you invited him inside, you told him that you had to send it before you sat down to discuss anything else. Lives were literally at stake, that had to come first even when a cute stranger wanted to pick apart your brain about your favorite books.

Cute? Was he cute? You’d only seen the top half of his face, but your stomach fluttered more intensely anytime his eyes crinkled at something you said on the walk to your house, and he seemed to have a nice physique beneath his baggy sweatshirt. Objectively speaking, he was attractive, but looks were never something that attracted you to someone. You liked relationships of the mind. Someone who at least tried to be interested in the things that you were. It didn’t happen often, but this stranger seemed to hang on your every word, and that made your heart beat faster more than anything else.

Shaking your head, you focused on the email you had to send. Once it was drafted, edited, and looked over twice, you sent it, hoping that you’d done your part to better society.

The stranger looked your way when you joined him in the main room. His hands were behind his back and his shoulders slightly hunched as he inspected a shelf that was somewhat shorter than him.

“You have a pretty diverse collection,” he said.

“Thank you. I like to hunt for rare first editions and signed copies when I can,” you said, joining him by one of your bookshelves. “You can take one off the shelf if you’d like.”

Never had anyone been so interested in your collection before, and it made you want to share with him even more. Not once had he judged you for having so many books or for your tastes or what was clearly an obsession. He just wanted to know more, and you could never turn down an opportunity to share knowledge.

“Not a lot of poetry,” he said absentmindedly, his eyes still scanning the shelves.

“It’s not my favorite. Why? Do you like poetry?”

He shrugged. “As much as the next person, I suppose.”

Before you could reply or show him your beloved American classics, your cat softly padded across the floor and twirled himself around the stranger’s legs.

“And who might you be?” he asked, eyes wide, but not repulsed. It occurred to you then that you probably should’ve warned him about your cat in case he had allergies, but by the way he reached down to pet him, you didn’t think there were any sprouting problems.

“That’s the Emperor,” you said, picking up your cat.

“The Emperor? Like in Star Wars?”

“No, his full name is Emperor Trajan, my favorite of the Roman Emperors. But I usually just call him the Emperor so that people can associate him with whomever they want.”

He tilted his head at you. “You have a favorite Roman Emperor?”

“Mmhm. I went through a Roman antiquity phase last year.”

You were worried that you shared too much, revealed too much. Your students knew how much knowledge you had about almost everything, but there was a barrier between you and them. This person in front of you willingly came into your home to see your collection of books and to talk to you more, but what if you weren’t what he was expecting?

“Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” you blurted, hugging your cat a little tighter to your chest.

“Don’t be sorry. No one should have to apologize for their interests,” he said, and though your first thought was to not believe him, you felt he was being sincere.

“Well, I think the guy who murdered a bunch of people should apologize for his interests,” you said, referring to your case file. He blinked at you, and your eyes widened. “That was a joke!”

You were afraid that your dry sense of humor was going to be the thing to really send him packing. Perhaps it wasn’t funny to joke about those things, but you found it necessary sometimes in order to deal with reading and looking at some of the horrible crimes people committed.

And then he did the strangest thing. He laughed. You were so surprised, that you let out a small laugh of your own.

Reaching out, he scratched the Emperor behind his ears. “So, tell me more about this Emperor Trajan, and why he should be my favorite too.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles fic

2K notes · View notes

thebdsmsofurlife · 2 months

Text

Be My Chubby Submissive Cunt [Mf, roleplay, d/s, online, very meta, cnc, dirty talk, breeding, bbw, humiliation]

When you saw my posts they were such a turn on. A nasty, but eloquent dom who was obviously into big girls, and knew how to put them in their place. You rubbed your needy cunt to my words and images more than once, imaging faceless men using you as their cocksleeve, making you their slave.

Eventually you were brave enough, or horny enough, to contact me. So meek with need to be taken in hand. Pussy gushing to think your need to be dominated had led you to expose yourself to this stranger. So humiliating the way I commented on your curves. The compliments made you blush, but mixed with such mean words and nasty threats.

We talked of many things, limits and safe words and fetishes and life. The actual sex chat was hot, you would come back and reread bits while you rubbed your pussy, lingering over the nasty names.. Fat Cunt, Cocksleeve, Cumslut.. it made you tingle to hear what you are. But something was missing. It was too restrained.

Finally, you felt like you had to say it. Please… Rape me master.. I need it so bad..

Immediately my tone changed, meaner and more demanding. Oh the stories you shared, of me breaking into your place, drunk and angry, demanding your holes and beating you when you resisted. Making you choke on my cock and cum. Forcing you to spread your holes open as you begged not to be raped, how it only made me harder. How I pinned you down and made you take every inch again and again, laughing at your tears. Telling you why you deserved this for being such a slutty fat cunt. Slapping your udders till you confessed how much it turns you on. On and on the abuse went until the final indignity: forcing you to beg me to breed you like a bitch. You came so hard as I promised to force my rape baby into you without a care. Leaving you leaking my load on the floor, used and owned completely.

#bd/sm daddy #daddy k!nk #daddy’s babygirl #bd/sm kink #rough daddy #r@pe kink #cnc free use #cnc k!nk #cvmdump #rough cnc

24 notes · View notes

hologramcowboy · 9 months

Note

Hi, I was reading your beautifully crafted response on young girls losing themselves over worshipping a handsome actor/celebrity, thank you for that. Sometimes I wonder why this behavior is so common in girls. We do not see that many young boys getting obsessed over an actress/celebrity, getting into online stan wars, etc. Do you think there is a reason for that?

I think both boys and girls engage in escapism through adoring a celebrity. Having a crush is healthy, what happens is people forget to balance their perceptions and so they end up overriding their sense of self with their unrealistic infatuation. I mean unrealistic in the sense that they only look at one side of a person and think that's reality. In the process, they also forego their own values and adopt their fav's values. Which means they sacrifice their own authentic selves to live up to someone they put on a pedestal through unrealistic perceptions. Having role-models and mentors is important but it should never overshadow your authentic self. We see even in fashion and make up how people forego their authentic style, natural beauty and essence to match whatever is trendy. Some end up losing their lives in that process, trying to fit the mold of what someone else thinks is beautiful. Women more than men. Society still has a very long way to go when it comes to allowing women to believe in themselves and their power without conditioning that through some dictated mold. There are many reasons girls can fall in love with a character or actor, I think what matters is whether that's in a balanced or healthy way or whether that's in a way that overwhelms their direction in life. I see a lot of young stans making comments that show just how much their personal selves and goals are neglected in their own life over worshiping their favorite celebrity. Maybe I've been privileged by getting to meet some of my icons but what I've learned is that absolutely no one is perfect and loving them completely very much means being aware of that. Most of all, to love another we have to first love ourselves. I don't see these girls taking care of themselves, their dreams(their real dreams not the ones society dictates) or their gifts, rather, they prefer hiding, procrastinating, deflecting and living with "delusions" instead of embracing reality and breaking down their dreams step by step. Yes, chasing your dreams is hard but it cannot be harder than living a limited life. Finally, one important thing women have is their maternal instinct, their nurturing side, this makes us powerful but it can also make us give unconditional love to figures who may not have truly earned that. In a way, that instinct is much stronger than our rational mind and being loving beings is an endlessly beautiful thing but we need to also love and respect ourselves enough to face certain harsh realities and stay balanced. So I just wanted to let all those girls know, the ones that truly love from their heart, that you are beyond special and beyond needed in this world so please, respect yourself and don't allow your love for a status or sex symbol to run your identity because, I promise you, you are meant for so much more than that! The mere fact that you can carry so much love for someone you've barely if ever interacted with shows how powerful you are so use that power to create a life you love. What do you think, anon? I would love so much to learn your perspective about this and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this incredibly beautiful ask.

#anti fanaticism #anti aas #love my anons

12 notes · View notes

asexual-society · 10 months

Note

Hi everyone! I'm a heteroromantic (sex repulsed) ace girl and my pronouns are she/her. I have recently discovered the fact that I am asexual, or at the very least on the ace spectrum, so I have dived into the aspec corner of the internet in hopes of finding other kind humans that I can relate to, so I want to thank you in advance for taking the time to read my questions <3

I also apologize if I used any of the terms in an incorrect way, it was not my intention to do so or to cause any harm. :D

Before I start, I am going to provide some backstory. I am in my late teens, and I've only had one boyfriend so far, that I refused to be intimate with because I didn't feel comfortable doing that, and he didn't believe that I was sex repulsed and that I genuinely felt uncomfortable with even attempting to be intimate, and thought I was lying to him and simply didn't like him enough, among other things.

Fast forward, we have broken up (thank god), however after focusing on myself and exploring my identity, after much thinking I have come to the realisation that I am asexual. However, also after a lot of thinking, I realised that I found conversations about sex made me feel extremely uncomfortable or even mad? The descriptions didn't make me feel uncomfortable, nor do I judge people who do partake in physical intimacy, it's more that the anger is kind of directed at myself? Almost like I'm mad at myself for not wanting sex, even though I should? It feels like I'm being mad at myself for not not wanting something I should be wanting just like all other people, if that makes sense. I also sometimes feel sadness and shame knowing that my identity as an asexual person and sex repulsion is not going to be accepted if I enter a relationship again, or at least not in the country that I live in, since people aren't quite aware of the existence of aspec people. Is that some sort of an internalized acephobia, or perhaps some form of bad effect of my former relationship? Or is it an universal ace experience?

Thank you once again for your help <3 :)

First of all, don't worry at all, you haven't said anything wrong! Second of all, this is sooo common for ace people to feel.

Being ace can be really isolating, and it's hard when you don't have anyone who understands how you feel, but you have to remember that wherever you are, you're not alone. Even if you don't know any out ace people, it doesn't mean they don't exist.

Sex repulsion can make conversations about sex and sexuality difficult or uncomfortable in a variety of ways, including feelings of anger, but I'm sorry you're feeling that directed towards yourself, I know that can be hard to deal with. Even I struggle with internalised acephobia at times because a lot of the queer community I interact with is allosexual, who I can't fully identify with, so I understand how tough it can be to feel like you don't want to or even that you shouldn't be ace. Having that robust community and support system, even if that just means following ace blogs or having online friends who are ace if you can't find any ace people irl right now, can really help you to feel happier and more comfortable and confident in your asexuality.

I'd also say, although it might not seem like it right now, there are plenty of people out there who don't need to have sex in a romantic relationship, and just because your past relationship didn't respect that, doesn't mean no one ever will. It might be a little harder to find those people, but I promise you there are so many ace people who find accepting partners, both in other ace people, and in allo people too.

Thank you for your ask, and I hope things go okay for you <3

~mod key

#asks #asexual #heteroromantic #internalized aphobia #mod key #anon

10 notes · View notes

limeade-l3sbian · 1 year

Note

This is a controversial very anti feminist opinion of mine, but it genuinely pisses me off lately when I see women disparage their own features online, for example in tiktoks and in tweets. It’s not that I don’t get how they have become insecure or what it feels like. I’m very familiar. But I feel tired of all the self degradation that’s just become the norm. I’m tired of people themselves feeding into it. I’m tired of them spreading their insecurities. Im tired of seeing girls and young women in the replies say “oh i didn’t know this was a bad feature.. now i’m self conscious too”. Spreading hate about yourself eventually hits people who look similar or share even just one similarity. And seeing these types of posts get 100k+ likes and everyone having a sob fest about how unfortunate and “ugly” they are, makes me nauseous atp. I used to feel bad but now I’m just fed up. And people do it irl too. Go to therapy, get a diary, do anything productive instead of constantly sucking the energy out of the room or online place you are. Your looks don’t make you an eyesore, your self pity does.

Regardless of how unpopular it may be received, I agree with you 100%.

I think what annoys me is both ends of this spectrum. You have the women who really do believe this, to which I suggest that a life of pursuits in things other than appearance heavy ones will greatly buffer this constant desire to look perfect and "presentable". I still have body issues myself, but I'm not nearly as deep in them as I was in high school when I had too much time on my hands to worry about things like that. I'm not saying "get a job then you'll see how much it doesn't matter!" but also...kinda?

But not just work. Hobbies. Socializing with friends (FRIENDS). These things engage your dopamine so much I PROMISE YOU how you look will take a backseat. Because I know exactly what videos you're talking about. I see them all the time and roll my eyes harder than I could possibly express in a gif.

But then you have the other end. Women who know what they're doing. Making up new insecurities that they themselves likely don't even really concern themselves with. Rather, they're complaint about only having "naturally half curled eyelashes" (idk if that's real i just made it up) is meant to prompt ass kissing comments that say "you think you have it bad..?" and "no! you're so gorgeous!". That is if they're not trying to sell some useless product to help you sate this newfound insecurity.

I'll be the first to defend and give the benefit of the doubt to women. But the ones who abuse this new climate of female empowerment piss me off to no end. I retain far more pity for teenage girls because that is a hard fucking time in terms of self image. But for grown women in those comments who, like you say, are like "now i have a new insecurity." I'm sorry, but if it was that easy? You were either looking for something new to add to your proud list of why you're "so ugly" or you are far too vulnerable to be using the internet for anything social media related.

#ask

8 notes · View notes

la-fille-en-aiguilles · 3 years

Text

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

620 notes · View notes

juminsmysticmc · 3 years

Note

Hii☺️So, we have RFA+Minor trio being single fathers after Mc's death, what about reversing it?So that Mc is a single mother after they died(

I waited really long to finally make a request and I am very excited right now, especially since it's you.I really love your writings and I read all of them for like a dozen of times and I can't get enough of them😍Thank you so much for your work and stay healthy 🙏🏻

Mc being a single mom after the RFA + Minor Trio died ( Trigger Warnings! )

Trigger Warnings, mention of death, parental death

RFA + Minor Trio as single fathers after Mc’s death (Parental death/ Trigger Warnings)

Did I mention that I like drama? Enjoy!

Jumin

You pressed your lips together as tears went down your cheek. The baby you just gave birth to was sleeping in Jaehee‘s arms as you sobbed into Zen‘s embrace.

,,It‘s as if he planned everything,“ you sobbed, making your red haired friend shake with his head.

,,When he found out you were pregnant, he made me do all this. He didn’t plan to die a month after the birth of your baby, really, he just feared that if something happened to him, his father would have acted the way he did,“ Seven explained.

The reason why you were currently staying over at Jaehee‘s place was that Jumin died a week ago. One day you let him go out of the front door, still smiling as he kissed your newborn, and not even half an hour later, you found yourself in the hospital.

Someone shot him.

And as if it wasn’t enough, your father in law tried to take away your baby, saying that he had to give his grandchild a better life.

But Jumin, even in heaven, saved you once again, saving a lot of money and having an external saving method thanks to Seven.

He even left behind a letter to his father filled with lies, explaining that the baby wasn’t his child.

Of course everything was a lie, but this lie made it possible for you to see your baby grow up.

,,I can’t even go to my husband’s-” your words died in tears.

,,He will always look over you, Mc, and we’ll help you. It will all be better soon…“ Zen patted your back. He too was mourning for his friend.

Zen

,,Mommy, do I really look like daddy?“ your youngest girl asked you as she brushed her long white hair.

You gulped as you looked over to your oldest daughter.

Her eyes were again filled with tears.

Zen died two years ago, leaving you behind with three wonderful children.

You had to give up your job as manager and instead began to work part time in a restaurant at night and other little jobs while the girls were at school.

,,Daddy… I don‘t even remember him,“ your middle child hissed as she entered the room.

,,I don’t even know him, that’s worse!“ your youngest began to sob.

She indeed looked like Zen. He would have been proud to see her beauty.

Well, he was proud of every daughter he had. He loved them with all his heart.

,,Trust me, I would rather not remember him than live with memories,“ your oldest daughter Mina hissed as she put down her lipstick and rushed out.

You sighed as you looked at your little family.

You were all sleeping in one single room. No one had their own space and instead they all argued with each other whenever they had the chance.

,,You’re always so negative, MINA!“ your middle child Hana hissed, followed by the youngest, Sera.

,,I HATE YOU GUYS! HE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!“ she screamed, making your heart stop.

Mina glared at her and fell on her feet as she began to scream a loud, high pitched scream.

,,SERA RYU!“ you screamed.

The house died down as only sniffles were heard.

,,Your father died when the three of you caught a virus. He was trying to go to the shop for some medicine, but that doesn’t mean that one of you is at fault, understand?“ you hissed.

You sat down and began to cry yourself as you called them over into your arms, ready to embrace your crying children.

,,No one is at fault. Please, please don’t fight, girls, your father would be devastated to see that,“ you begged.

,,Sera, you do look like dad,“ Mina sobbed and smiled, making your youngest smile brightly.

Yoosung

Your son finally fell asleep after a long crying session.

Nothing hurt you more than consoling your son who was in deep pain because he got bullied at school for not having a father.

Yoosung died six months ago, making you move into a tinier apartment which led to your son attending another school.

However, you regretted every single decision.

You pulled your phone out as you tried to dry your salty tears.

You entered a new chatroom as you asked for help.

,,What happened? Shall I come over?“ Jumin responded, being the first one online.

,,I can come quicker, I‘m omw,“ Zen shortly afterwards responded.

,,No no, I just…

Can you please bring Jinyoung to school tomorrow? He got bullied… I think if other children see him with you guys, they will respect him more,“ you wrote.

Of course Seven jumped in and wrote six lines about how happy he would be to play ⅓ of a father, making you actually choke on your tears.

,,Thank you,“ you typed and decided to bring your son to bed.

Indeed the three boys kept their promise, making him laugh like never before.

Jaehee

,,And that‘s how we met,“ you laughed as you told your son about the meeting between you and Jaehee.

He nodded as he looked at the picture over the table.

It portrayed you, him, and Jaehee on his first day of school.

Jaehee died a year ago from an illness.

It all went so quickly. One day she got diagnosed and a few months later the two of you prepared the funeral for her.

As if it was yesterday, you remembered picking up your son and driving him to the hospital to give Jaehee the chance to see him one last time.

And indeed, it was their last goodbyes.

Jaehee would never see him finishing school, university, or begin a job, fall in love, or try to cheer him up while being lovesick.

She would never see him get married or have his first child.

It hurt your heart to know that you were the only one left for him.

On the other side, Jaehee was happy that at least he had you. ,,How did your favorite TikTok go?“ she groaned.

,,Take him to the moon for me,“ she whispered.

,,Mom was a strong woman,“ you told your son as a tear left your eye.

,,You too, Mommy, you too.“

Saeyoung

You sighed as you turned off your alarm to get off the bed.

It was still dark outside, but you had to wake up with the last strength you had. You pulled yourself together and walked back to the kitchen where you prepared some breakfast for your child.

Like every morning, reality hit you as you silently sobbed while putting some rice into the bento box.

Your hands trembled as you looked up, just to gasp for air and keep going.

It was hard ever since Saeyoung died. Things weren’t going well for you.

You thanked God daily for the remaining person you had, that you had friends and family who supported you.

But you also begged God to make this bad life end. Even though it was selfish, you just wanted to see your family again.

Even if Jaehee often tried to make you understand how lucky you were, even at the times where Jumin promised to help you with the medical expenses, even at those times when Yoosung came over to cook dinner, and even at those times when Zen promised to go with your and your child to the park, you just wanted this to end.

You inhaled again and dried your tears as you made yourself a cup of coffee.

,,Good morning, baby,’’ you whispered as you turned on the lights of your son’s room.

,,Mo….m,’’ the boy groaned, probably in pain as you helped him get up to sit on his wheelchair.

,,Wet…’’ he gasped as you noticed that he wet his bed again.

,,It’s okay, baby, don’t worry,’’ you smiled, pushing the chair through the door, passing at the picture of Saeyoung, Saeran, and your two perfectly healthy children.

That day, Saeyoung didn’t just die in a car accident from speeding, he also took his brother and one of your children with him, leaving you with your second son disabled by the accident.

,,It’s okay,’’ you whispered.

Saeran

You looked up to the ceiling as you felt a warm, little hand on your chest.

Turning your head, you could see how relaxed the face of your daughter was as she slept safely and soundly, not worrying about anything or anyone.

You smiled as you saw how much she resembled Saeran, her father.

Your hand moved to stroke her head as you remembered the day you told him that you were pregnant, how he cared for you and his daughter in the pregnancy, how hard labor was, and how emotional it was when he once again decided to save his brother after seeing his own daughter.

,,He would be happy to see her,’’ he said after she was newly born and he was finally allowed to hold her in his embrace.

As if it was yesterday, you remembered how he taught her to walk, how he stood behind her while going to the park and how much he loved to feed her.

This all disappeared one day.

In the morning, he told you that he might have found Saeyoung and in the evening he came home, beaten up with a shotgun wound, collapsing in front of your porch.

It was your worst nightmare and you were honestly happy that this all happened at night, knowing that back then, your three year old daughter wouldn’t have seen anything.

Ever since then, life became harder.

You moved, fearing the Prime Minister or the agency Saeyoung was in would track you down and kill your daughter. The RFA kept helping you guys, but questions like, ,,Where is Dada’’ weren’t always easy to respond to.

,,Mommy,’’ she mumbled and opened her eyes, smiling brightly at you and rubbing her eyes to wake up.

,,Mhhh?’’ you asked her.

,,Daddy visited my dreams…’’ she giggled and fell asleep again, making you wander back to old memories too.

Jihyun

,,Mom, I don’t understand my homework,’’ Lucy said, whispering as she entered the room as quietly as possible.

You looked back to her and nodded as you looked back to the little bed your son was in before you walked away, your hand on Lucy’s hair as you smiled at her.

,,What topic?’’ you asked her.

You noticed that she was hesitating so it was probably art since it was related to her father.

,,Art?’’ you asked her to make it easier for her. She had a pretty hard time ever since Jihyun died, well, you too. You all had a pretty hard time.

Jumin wasn’t the same person anymore, or so Jaehee said. Yoosung seemed to regret a few things, and Saeran and Saeyoung were grieving, just like Zen.

Everyone was in pain after the painful death of that one special person.

,,Our teacher told us to draw a painful happy moment but… how am I supposed to make something happy if it’s supposed to be painful?’’ she asked you.

You nodded. ,,Well, describe something painful. What is painful?’’ you asked her.

,,Getting hurt is painful, falling is painful, getting hit is painful…’’

,,How about losing someone?’’ you asked her, making her think about it for a few seconds before she asked you if it wasn’t something sad instead of painful.

You nodded. ,,When I told you that daddy wouldn’t come home anymore back then when you were younger, do you remember how you felt?’’ you asked her.

,,Did your heart hurt? Did you feel scared and suffocated? Wasn’t it painful?’’ you asked her and even though you could see that she was tearing up, you knew that this was something the two of you had to talk about.

Indeed, Lucy closed up about her feelings ever since then, but this was also a good opportunity.

,,Now, think of a happy moment with your father. Isn’t it something painful but a happy moment as well?’’ you asked her and got up, knowing that she knew what to do.

A week later, you were invited to see your daughter receive a prize for the most beautiful portrait of Jihyun as an angel looking down at the world, a painful and happy moment for everyone who knew him.

Vanderwood

,,Mommy,’’ your son asked you, pulling at your shirt as you stood in front of the stove.

,,Mhhh?’’ you asked him without looking as you were cooking.

,,Why did Daddy leave us?’’ he asked you out of the blue, making you stop everything and look at him.

,,The fish is burning,’’ he suddenly said as he saw the flames, making you shriek and quickly take care of everything.

After everything was taken care of, you took him in your arms and showed him a few pictures of his father.

For now, you never showed him his father. You never dared to speak about Vanderwood, fearing that your son wouldn’t understand your words, but by now you learned that he was much stronger than you ever thought.

,,This is your father, Vanderwood. He didn’t leave because he wanted to, he was kind of forced to,’’ you told him, gulping down the bad feeling you had as your heart began to beat quickly.

,,And why is he gone?’’ he asked you, softly touching the picture of a cool looking brown haired man.

This was on the day you two went to eat after you craved a salad and ice cream.

,,He had an important job to do,’’ you explained. Of course you didn’t tell him that the agency tracked him down and killed him brutally while he tried to keep you, his heavily pregnant, hidden.

,,And what is he doing now?’’ he kept asking you as you remembered the day, as if it was yesterday, when he pushed you into the closet, begging you to close your ears and never come out until called you.

However, that call never came. Instead, Saeyoung pulled you out moments later. You didn’t remember how much time passed.

You just knew that he asked you to keep your eyes closed as he led the way out of the room.

,,He is now protecting you, me, uncle Saeyoung, uncle Saeran, uncle Jumin, uncle Zen, uncle Yoosung and aunt Jaehee,’’ you answered with a smile.

How much he would have loved to meet his son, you were sure.

He was your happiness after all, the last memento of Vanderwood.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

26.07.2021// 00:13 MEST

147 notes · View notes

alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them.

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

#I wrote something #oh gOD I actually wrote something #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #alwaysmarveling

391 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

THIS ISNT AN ASK I JUST GOT INSPIRED LOOKING AT YOUR TINGSSS; (Prohero) Yan Kiri responding to his (kidnapped) darlings' birthday request: Just do what they say for the day. Darling had to suck dick LONG AND HARD for this very special birthday wish, and spends the day dancing around the garden in a dress that they FINALLY got to choose themselves (the longest one they own) with gorgeous, full coverage underwear on. (1/2)

“This isn't an ask” then why it in my ask box hoe (Lolol I’m sorry I write what I see hope u don’t mind)

(What to expect - Cunnilingous, dubcon, noncon, NSFW, sexy birthday gift)

Yes you had to suck his dick, not to be allowed to wear the dress (Kirishima’s a sucker, and he likes seeing his baby in pretty little dresses that make them look all innocent), but to have him promise to not pin and fuck you the second she put it on (or at any point during your special day, just one day without sex, please? ur pussy needs a mf break)

Because it’s your birthday, Kirishima lets you order a dress online, sat in his lap of course, while he offers feedback.

“That one’s pretty.”

“Oo, you’d look so gorgeous in that color, you should get that one!”

“Eh, this one doesn’t seem like you, let’s look at a different one babe.”

“This is cute, but don’t you think it’s a little long? You might trip.”

His advice was unwarranted and mostly unwanted, hands distracting you by playing with your hair, kissing at your exposed shoulder while you scrolled through the options.

You finally decided on a dress, begging Kirishima to allow you to buy underwear as well to go with it. Kiri got excited for a second, and of course said yes, only to get confused and laugh when you added comfortable, un-sexy underwear to the cart.

But a promise is a promise, so everything gets purchased.

And the morning of your birthday, you get presented with the dress, the underwear, and breakfast in bed, which is slightly burnt, but the effort is somewhat appreciated.

Kirishima doesn’t bother you when you head to the shower (usually he follows you everywhere like an oversized puppy, and showers are never completed without his wandering hands and wet kisses), just smiles at you forlornly as he keeps his end of the “no touching” agreement for the day.

He doesn’t make you sit in his lap, or even next to him while you eat your breakfast in bed.

You don’t have his hands constantly touching you, wrapped around your waist, heavy on your shoulder, playing with your hair or skimming along your thigh.

Kirishima’s taken the day off, just so he can spend it with you, and he’s so glad. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes, you seem comfortable and relaxed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, and the man has never been so in love.

It’s obvious that he’s struggling to hold himself back from grabbing you - his fingers itch, his smile is strained, he can’t stop staring at you in that dress. But he had promised, and you took advantage of that.

Flouncing around his bulky form, swishing your dress, giving an enthusiastic twirl that maybe showed off a bit more of your legs than was considered modest.

Teasing him about the slight bulge in his pants that appeared after a little bit of flirting, feeling safe because he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

You were shameless about the flirting too, a sort of confidence filling you and making you giggly and feel light, even though you weren’t exactly fond of the man you were flirting with on account of all the things he had done to you.

Kiri tried to convince you to stop, joking along with you at first but then quickly growing serious as you amped up your playful seductiveness, feeling powerful and in control because he couldn’t touch you no matter what.

His words were ignored, and you continued to live your best life, dancing around, licking food off of your finger with a mean smile, letting out little breathy moans whenever you stretched.

And the best part? Kirishima just had to sit there and take it. Just like he had forced you to accept his affection, you now forced him to accept the fact that you were wholly in reach, but absolutely off-limits.

That evening, you get ushered out to the garden, which Kirishima had “decorated” for you.

Technically, it was your garden, something for you to work on and occupy yourself with while Kirishima was off working. It wasn’t much, but you’d done your best with taking care of the plants.

Kiri had hung little twinkly lights in the trees, stringing them between the branches. He had set up a little table underneath the lights, a small cake, a bouquet of flowers, a few candles here and there.

It was romantic, and your heart swelled at the sight. In any other situation, this would be the absolute best birthday in the entire world. But today you wanted to be happy, so you didn’t think about all the reasons for why it wasn’t.

The two of you sat and ate cake, Kirishima recounting how many times he’d gotten cake slapped in his face by trying to surprise Bakugou on his birthday. You laughed, almost choking on cake, which made you laugh harder at the ungodly noise that left your throat.

You talked about your garden, animatedly gesturing to the various plants, explaining how you took care of them and what you still needed to work on. Kirishima listened intently, smiling at you.

He interrupted you in the middle of a story about your life growing up, holding a bite of cake towards you on his fork. Without thinking (he had been very insistent at first that he hand-feed you), you leaned across the table, opening your mouth and accepting the food.

You made eye contact, Kirishima’s eyes flicking down to your mouth, the way your lips stretched around the fork, the pink of your tongue as it accepted the bite. A moan was uttered, a smile teasing your lips as you licked at the frosting around your lips, bringing a thumb up to swipe it clean, sucking the digit into your mouth while moaning about how good it tastes.

And then Kirishima was breathing hard, red eyes locked on your own, calmly putting down his fork.

You immediately recognized what was going on, started rising from your seat the same time Kiri rose from his, holding your hands out and reminding the man of his promise.

But he was done, you’d teased him all day. Enough was enough.

He grabbed your arm before you could even think about moving away, jerking you to him to capture your lips in a heated kiss, tasting the subtle hint of sweetness on your tongue.

As soon as he pulled away, you were admonishing him, saying he promised, telling him to stop touching you, he’s such a jerk.

But he had a one-track mind, picking you up to settle your weight in one hand, forearm under your rear as he cleared a space on the table quickly.

Then you were getting sat down on top of it, Kiri sitting back down in his chair as he pulled your hips to edge, quickly rucking up your dress.

“Kirishima! You-you promised! Stop, you said you wouldn't!” You cried, trying to push his hands away, push his head back, stop him from revealing your underwear, but he was determined.

“Sorry baby, I just can’t help myself.” Was the offered explanation while he pulled down your underwear, managing to get it off one of your kicking legs before giving up and letting it dangle off of one ankle.

He hunched over immediately, large hands gripping and angling your hips up so he could reach your pussy, licking over it messily. There was no technique, no rhythm, the man just wanted to taste you, practically drooling over your cunt.

You cried out, hands pulling at his hair, making him grunt, but he couldn’t be moved from between your plush thighs.

“You said-ah! Don’t Kiri-” You whined, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s my birthday, I-I didn’t want you touching me....”

Kirishima pulled back a little, brows furrowed. He reached over to the cake, your eyes following his hand as he scooped up a glob of frosting.

No, he wouldn’t-

He would.

“No!” You yelped, but his grip on your hip was firm as he slapped the handful of frosting onto your cunt. You keened at the odd sensation, the cool frosting quickly being heated by your warm skin, beginning to melt.

“Birthday girl, you’re all messy, gotta clean you up-” The man breathed, diving back down the suck at your skin, tongue enthusiastically licking up the frosting, your juices with it.

All you could do was cry.

He ate you out until the frosting was cleaned from you cunt, until your skin was shiny and slick with spit and your own creamy juices. By the time he seemed satisfied, you were shaking, thighs bracketing his hand while they trembled and convulsed at each eager lave of his tongue over your swollen slit.

It began raining, the soft pitter-patter droplets easily hiding the streaking of tears down your face.

Kirishima didn’t seem too phased, merely standing, pulling you into his arms and striding towards the door.

You could see the little area Kirishima had set up for your birthday, lights beginning to drop out of trees from the wind, the cake getting ruined by the elements, the scene quickly dissolving into a mess.

And Kirishima had barely gotten started with you.

#Yandere kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #birthday #tw dubcon #tw.dubcon #tw noncon #tw.noncon #bad writing #author sucks lol

584 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 3 years

Text

“I Can Feel You Staring” ~ Kim Namjoon

Your eyes followed Namjoon as he threw the duvet away from his body, walking across to the window to pull the curtains apart and let in some light. You were thankful that he did as the sun shone in and lit up his body in the middle of your view.

A coy smile crept onto your face as your eyes followed him around, first to his wardrobe as he pulled out an outfit for the day, and then to the mirror as he took off his top to be able to change, feeling your smile grow.

You were unaware of his eyes looking at you through the reflection of the mirror, unable to keep his own smile at bay. Straight away he caught onto what you were looking at, dropping his shirt to the floor, raising his arm up to brush through the messy locks of his hair, noticing your cheeks began to turn a light shade of red.

“I can feel you staring,” his voice suddenly called out making you jump. Your hands pulled the duvet up to cover your face as Namjoon spun around, walking across to the bed, and sitting down beside you, smirking at your hidden face.

He tried to pry the duvet away from you, but you were far too embarrassed to ever allow him to do it. It only made things worse as his arms tensed to try and pull out the duvet, causing the definition in his muscles to become very prominent.

You struggled to keep yourself together around Namjoon at the best of times, but since you’d been working harder at the gym over the past couple of months, you certainly couldn’t complain about the changes you were seeing.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

As you felt your cheeks begin to turn back to their usual colour, you pulled the duvet away, refusing to look at Namjoon, however. “I can’t look at you right now, I feel too much shame.”

His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his chest as he fell back so that he was laid down again. Your hand rested against his chest to keep yourself steady, giggling away as he tightened the grip, he had on you.

With your free hand, you couldn’t help but run your hand up and down his arm, feeling his smile grow as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. It became an instinct for you these days to feel against his skin and admire how much effort had gone into his body.

“Every time I look at you, I swear your arms are just getting bigger and bigger.”

His chuckle caused your body to vibrate, pressed against his. “I’ve tried hard to get a little bit stronger; I always thought my arms were quite thin, but they’re not anymore. I take it you’re pleased I’m working out now too?”

“Yeah, but I love your body regardless.”

His head nodded, tensing up his arm once again as your arm held onto his bicep, choosing to keep it there so you could feel the biggest part of his muscle properly.

“I probably sound like one of your fans right now, but these days you are ripped,” you complimented, pinching his arm, “who knew you of all people could get so wrong?”

He was certainly proud of the effort he put into trying to make his body stronger and seeing the reaction he got from you only boosted his confidence even more. It was something he did for himself, but the attention that came with it was definitely a bonus for him.

“I like to think my arms do a better job of protecting you now too,” he whispered down to you, “I can always keep you safe when you’re in my arms.”

“I’ve always been safe with you,” you assured him, tilting your head up so that could look at him. “A little extra muscle on your arm won’t change the fact you keep me feeling secure.”

“It makes me feel better though, I always used to look at these other guys and think about how I could look strong and tough like them, but now I feel like I am one of them,” he admitted to you.

Your head shook gently, stretching up to press a kiss against his cheek. You knew he often felt insecure, but not once had he ever made you feel like he wasn’t enough for you.

“Maybe I could come and watch you work out sometime?”

“It would be a good motivation,” Namjoon grinned, relieved that you’d changed the subject. “We could be like one of those couples that you see where the boyfriend tries to bench press his girlfriend, I reckon that would be quite fun.”

As fun as an idea it was, putting it into practice didn’t quite seem like such a convincing idea. You trusted Namjoon, of course, but to be lifted high up into the air with his track record wasn’t quite as an exciting thought.

“I can guarantee that you’d drop me,” you laughed, “you can’t even pick up your phone sometimes without throwing it to the floor. How can you possibly be sure that you won’t drop me too?” You asked him.

“Because I always keep you safe,” he smartly responded, leaving you speechless. “You’d be safe in my strong arms these days, I managed to carry you up to bed a few nights ago when you fell asleep without dropping you.”

The two of you laid for a few more minutes before Namjoon began to stir again. “Are you really going to head to the studio today? Can’t you take a day off?”

As much as he wanted to take a day off and lay with you wrapped in his arms all day, it simply wasn’t possible for him. His schedule was jampacked with the group, even laying back down with you rather than changing was going to put him in a rush to get to the studio on time.

It was the one negative of his new strength, he could unwrap his arms around you easily, despite your hands desperately trying to hold onto him and keep him in position.

“I promise, tonight I’ll wrap you up in my arms all night long and we can do whatever you want,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You watched on as his arm slid out of your hold, “it’s unfair that you’re leaving me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, throwing on the shirt that he’d pulled out of his drawer, folding up his pyjama shirt that he’d thrown on. “Work calls, but I’m sure there’s plenty of photos and videos you can find of my arms online to keep you company.”

“Is that really how you think I’m going to spend my day?” You questioned, “I have things to do.”

“I can bet now that as soon as I go, you’ll look back through your gallery for a photo of me,” he continued to tease. “The real thing will be back later.”

You threw your head back as Namjoon left the room to head downstairs and get ready for work. Your hand pressed against your arm, feeling the tingle that you still got whenever Namjoon had kept you close for some time.

“One day his muscles really will be the death of me,” you whispered.

---

Masterlist

307 notes · View notes

najatheangel · 3 years

Text

genre: fluff, drama, and comedy. high school au!

pairing: Choi San x Reader

author's note: apart of the Ateez Summer Collab hosted by @bangchan-fairy My first official posted collab please let me know what you guys think. Enjoy your summer! ✨

word count: 5.3k

summary: After slacking off junior year and struggling to juggle responsibilities, you're stuck retaking your math course in the summer. With your future on the line, you were stuck with San to work together with you so you both can pass this summer course as seniors. You two seem to have a hard time focusing on your studies. Is it because you don't understand the work or a certain someone that's distracting you

taglist: @purplepsycho03 @melonmochimoon @neptunehobi @soleilsuhh @dundun-baby @kpopsnowball (Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.)

Your stepmom Maria seemed to be very disappointed in you once again for letting her down this year. She had planned so many family trips, vacations, and hangouts for the whole family to enjoy this summer, but thanks to my failing this dumb math class, I have to be stuck in this school until July.

“You better be lucky I can afford for you to retake this class. Your reckless behavior has gone on long enough.” Your mom walks beside you upstairs inside Walnut Hills Highschool making sure you don’t skip out on the first day of summer school.

“Mom, you know you don’t have to walk me to class. I know what I’m doing!” You groan at her as she links her arms with you in the hallway.

“Clearly you don’t! If you did you wouldn’t be stuck here retaking this class. Now we’re almost there so keep your head high and lose the tude.”

There it was class 2A once again. This class was an absolute nightmare. I took a deep breath and slid the door open slowly with my eyes halfway open anxious to see who was sitting in the classroom.

“Welcome back miss Y/LN! Good seeing you again.” Mr. Harris said with a smile. This sucker, you had a love-hate relationship with Mr. Harris. You loved the fact that he was super nice and helpful when he was your English tutor freshman year, but you hated how he had a crush on your mom and how weird teacher-parent conference meetings would get when they would sneak off with each other in his office.

“Good morning Mr. Harris. Good seeing you again.” Your mom blushed to try to contain her excitement, but it was too obvious. “Anyways I’ll be heading my way out. She’s all yours for the summer.” Your mom gave you one last hug and kiss on the cheek before she left.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, fanning yourself already sweating from the classroom’s lack of cold air blowing. You complained again by saying.“Mr. Harris, are we staying in this room all summer? I’m sweating like a fat pig.”

“Unfortunately, yes. The PCs in the computer lab have been shut down and the school plans on replacing them with apple PCs by august. So these are the cards we’ve been dealt with. Let’s get started shall we.”

All the students in the classroom sighed, taking sips of their water bottles as Mr. Harris took attendance.

“Let’s see...We have Angela, Oliver, Chris, Yui, Y/N...Who’s missing? Choi San?”

“Here.” San slams the door open, arriving 20 minutes late with his chocolate milk in one hand and a glazed donut in the other. “Sorry Mr. Harris, I’ve overslept.”

Mr. Harris sighs, shaking his head, chuckling to calm himself down. “As expected. Just glad that you’re here, please have a seat.”

There was only one seat left which was in the front next to you and that would of course be his assigned seat for the rest of the summer.

You never heard much of San except everyone saying that he dropped out sophomore year.

You remember having a crush on him during freshman orientation when you both were shadowed by this kid named Lee Know. The whole time you were quiet, but you remembered staring at the handsome devil strutting in his uniform the whole time.

So to see him once again took you and everyone by surprise.

“Class, make sure you remember your partner’s name sitting next to you for this summer because you will work together in order to pass this class.”

“Say what?” You look over at San, who was making origami at his desk. “Good seeing again kid.” He smirks at you leaving you speechless. “Want a donut?” He reached out, handing a piece to you.

You were slamming your head on the desk thinking to yourself. “Mom, I know I promised I would finish this class, but I don’t know if I can...”

Mr. Harris had you paired up in groups of two to complete a series of word problems and online on this website called Pearson. On the bright side, walnut hills provided MacBooks for students that didn’t have their laptop, but of course, if they tried to watch Netflix, facetime with their friends, or search for something inappropriate, their laptop will be shut down for 24 hours until further notice.

The first two weeks were pretty quiet between you and San because both of you aren’t necessarily the best conversation starters and whenever San would ask you something it would only just help him cheat on an assignment or help him make up an excuse to skip class. Up until the third week hit you had enough of his excuses trying to avoid doing the work.

The third week you were assigned to work on three hours of pre-cal on the computer and you had the option to locate to a different classroom of course if you couldn’t focus in a cramped room full of sweaty students. So you and san decided to work in the math lab across from class 2A and try to work out a plan.

“Listen San I know this class is our worst enemy, but I promised my mom I would graduate next year and If I have to restart my junior year again I would die of embarrassment. So please try a little harder.” San sighs nodding to your proposal looking deeply into your eyes.

“Fine. I guess I’m in the same boat. I figured retaking junior year would make my mom mad too.” He reaches his hand shaking it with yours smiling.

Your heart starts pounding pretty fast as you're exchanging the agreement with San and you gaze your eyes back at the computer again clearing your throat.

“So, all we have to do is remember the methods Mr. Harris taught us and we'll be alright. What section are we on?” San scrolls through his laptop trying to login into his Pearson account. “I believe it's section 3.A. 20 questions which are due this Friday?! Man, Mr. Harris won’t give us a break.”

You giggled at his surprised reaction. Sometimes he can be soft which makes you melt inside even more. It made you wonder why he was always hanging around with the rebels with no future at school. Maybe life at home was rough and he didn’t have a lot of friends. All these questions were running through your head, which made you not realize that San suddenly moved closer to you.

“You need help with that problem? You were staring blankly at the screen for the past 10 minutes. Here let me show you how to do this.” San wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to writing the answer problem step by step to help you understand it better, but that wasn’t exactly helping.

All you were doing was admiring his beautiful face to face. It made you remember the first time you saw him with his glowing melon skin, sharp jawline, the way he can pull off a white collar and a striped tie it just seemed impossible.

On top of that his knowledge in math made him 10x more attractive, but you couldn’t understand why someone as brilliant and essential as him set himself up in the wrong crowd and stuck in this situation that cost him his high school diploma.

“So that’s how you get y= 18 + 15x. Any questions?” “Yeah, why the hell are you so fine. Forget Mr. Harris, you can be my tutor.” Would’ve sounded better in your head, but you accidentally said it out loud.

San looked at you with his eyes flashing open and then he burst out laughing. “Well Ms. Y/LN if I knew you were having this much fun, I would’ve signed up for this a long time ago.”

“Same here. You know I didn’t think math was your thing. How come you're so good at it?” He sighs, leaning looking up at the ceiling as his mood changes very quickly. “My dad is an entrepreneur and a CEO of his own company.

He’s very good at math so he taught me at an early age so someday I can take over his company someday. He’s never home at times either so I’m pretty much always helping my friends with their math homework as a side hustle.”

“That must be tiring. I know that must be a lot of pressure for a 17-year-old.” San nods his head in agreement and says “It is, but hey that’s what I’ve been dealing with all my life. We got to finish these questions so we can go home early.” With the both of you panicking you turn back to your computers finishing the last set of problems.

You were having so much fun at school with San that you forgot you had to make it to dinner on time with your wicked stepmother. Ever since you’ve started your sophomore year at Walnut Hills your father was keeping his dating life a secret until he unexpectedly announced that he wanted to marry Maria. Your dad was always the playboy so it always would irritate you whenever he brings another woman into the picture.

Your father planned on marrying Maria by the time you’ve graduated high school, but that all ended in tragedy when your father one day died in a car accident on the way to your volleyball game. This is why you quitted sports, fell out with your best friends, and flunked almost all your classes. Maria has always shown tough love even when your dad was around, but that’s because she never knew what it was like to raise children and she wanted to learn to become closer to your family, but your relationship with her was always rocky.

Arriving late at night you’ve run to your house sweating and panting to your angry stepmom in the kitchen tapping her foot.

“Y/N, do you know what time it is? School ended at 5. Why are you late for dinner? This better is good missy.” You caught your last breath and then rolled your eyes at Maria’s snarky comment. “Me and my partner in my class took longer than expected to finish our assignment. Sorry, okay?”

You’ve slammed your backpack on the back of your chair and grabbed a plate of yong chow rice to eat with your family. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me? I just asked a simple question. Don’t tell me your working with that Choi San guy?”

You shook your head as you started to feel yourself explode at the dinner table, but you let her finish. “I know that because Mr. Harris told me. Look all I’m saying is you better stay concentrated on getting out of summer school and don’t fool around with these boys. Got it?”

You’ve finally snapped and stood up slamming the table with your fists. “You know what, I don’t understand why you're nagging me about every little thing going on in my life. You can’t just be proud that I finished my assignments for this week. But, no you keep finding ways to complain to me about me not working hard enough or messing around. I’m getting really tired of it. That’s why I hate it here!”

“Y/N! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” She followed you all the way upstairs until you closed the door and locked it in her face. You were too tired and frustrated to be dealing with her constant ranting so you’ve just sat in your room, put your AirPods on, and blocked her yelling from the background. “We’ll talk about this another day. Psh teenagers.”

For the rest of the night, you smush your face in your pillow crying yourself to sleep. You look back on the polaroids of your dad around your room and through your phone missing his presence in your home. “Dad, why did you leave me alone with her? If it was just the three of us, things would be so different. I miss you.”

Your partnership with San seemed to improve drastically which was surprising, to say the least. All the other kids in the class however didn’t seem to improve. Some were either cheating or missing the deadlines. Mr. Harris was not pleased by the results so he found other alternatives.

“You know what class, here’s what we’re about to do. To make this a lot more fun, how about we do class activities for extra credit. Since some of you are glued to your devices nowadays we can play games like Kahoot, Jenga, and Tetris to answer questions. I can even narrow down the questions on the assignments. How does that sound?” Everyone in class chants and cheers loving the idea which keeps them even more motivated to continue working.

“Alright everyone the games won’t start today, but next week. This is the last week of June and summer school so that means we’re halfway there from finishing. You cannot screw this up. Try acing this week’s quiz with 90% everyone or no games for those with below 70%. Got it?” “Yes, Mr. Harris!” You’ve become closer to the class since it was only nine of you, but your best friends are Angela, San, and Chris. The four of you stopped for ice cream after school to study for this week’s big math test that covered five sections.

“Gosh, Mr. Harris put 40 questions on the test! What the hell is he on crack?”

Everyone laughed at Chris complaining. He would always try to find shortcuts just so he can finish playing PubG, but he always ends up getting in trouble because he procrastinates too much. The only reason he’s somewhat doing well is because of his girlfriend Angela.

She was always a straight-A student and a bit of a geek at school, but outside of school, she was a baddie. She ended up having to retake pre-cal because she wanted to offer to help Chris with homework but ended up failing with him. “Oh hush it’s not even that bad. If you would’ve done those practice problems like you were told, you wouldn’t be complaining so much.” She slaps the back of Chris' head making him spat out his dip cone.

San looks at them admiring their silly dysfunctional relationship and then looks at you mesmerized. He leans in whispering in your ear saying “Why can’t we be more like them. They’re cute together.” You turned to him, slapping his shoulder softly giggling. “We shouldn’t. We agreed to only focus on school, remember?” He looks at you pouting “Does it have to be strictly about work? Like Mr. Harris said, we can have fun with it. We are partners after all.”

You look to the side trying to avoid his gaze as you take another spoonful of mint cocoa. With your sloppy spoonful of ice cream leftover on your face, San quickly grabbed a napkin from the table and whipped your face. “Be careful, you had a little mint chocolate on your face.” He kissed the side of your lips and smirked at you right afterward leaving everyone shocked.

“You guys are hot together.”

Chris with no filter shouted out leaving you a blushing mess. You quickly grabbed your ice cream and backpack as you heard your stepmom pulling up at the dairy parking lot. “You know what duty calls. I’ll meet you guys at the same time tomorrow at San’s place just like we planned. I gotta shave my legs. Later!” San wanted to grab your arm real quick to give you a proper goodbye, but you already beat him to it by sprinting to the car.

“Honey, why did you run in the car so fast? You would have finished your ice cream-”

“No time for that, just drive Mom.” Maria laughs looking at you covering your face with your cardigan and looking at San’s pouting face playing with his spoon he just ate from his ice cream. “Reminds me of the good old days when I was in high school.” Your stepmom cranked the engine and drove all the way home.

When you arrived home you flopped your body on your bed trying to focus on finishing studying for your test by yourself, but all your thinking about San’s kiss replaying in your head over and over again. “Ugh that San man, why did his lips have to be so soft? I'm supposed to be finding the formula for x, not the formula to get into San’s heart.” You’ve pulled out your laptop attempting to send an email to Mr. Harris said that you wanted to switch partners, but you prevent yourself from pressing send through your mouse.

“There’s no point. We only have four more weeks plus he would be upset if I do that. I just need to calm down.” You’ve closed out of your email tab and finished your homework sinking in your thoughts.

“Dad, hey it’s me again, I just wanted to leave a voicemail letting you know that later on today I’ll be bringing my friends over to work on studying for our big test. It would be nice for you to meet them, but of course, I know work is more important. Anyways please come visit again sometime soon. Love you, peace.” San sighs, hanging up the phone as he sets the table up getting ready for you, Angela, and Chris to come over. San has always learned to live basically on his own growing up.

His father is always running off on business trips, his mother left him at a young age to marry a wealthy man and his older brother was already out of the country to join the Navy. His brother was the only person he can count on for family events when it came to birthdays, Christmas, and even father’s day. At least his brother could attend and catch up with his crazy high school life.

Snapping out of his train of thoughts he opens the door as soon as he hears the doorbell ring. “Coming!” He fixed his Pikachu long sleeve and parted his hair before he opened the door. He was smiling so wide after seeing it was you, Angela and Chris.

“C'mon in you guys. Welcome to mi palacio. Let’s study in the living room.”

Everyone ran to the living room pleased with the smell of pina colada candles filling the house. You were shocked that San got to live in this huge nicely decorated home yet you seem to notice that his family is not present.

You see picture frames of him when he was younger in a monster inc sitting on the fountain at Disneyland.

There was also another cute family photo of San’s best friend named Wooyoung that he met since kindergarten, but sadly they ended up cutting ties since they went to different schools.

A picture that stood out from all of them was one of him sitting on his mom’s lap when he was five smiling super hard with his pretty white smile. You’ve never seen him smile that hard and you were always curious more about his past so the family photos have shown a nice glimpse into his past “Hey y/n cmon I made some ramen. We have to pull out the flashcards so we can study.” “W-wait, but your baby pictures I want!” “No time we can look at them later.”

He winks and gently holds your hand and walks downstairs with you.

“Here goes the love birds. We have to try San’s famous spicy ramen dish before it gets too cold.” Everyone sits down at the dinner table clasping their hands together ready to dig in until the door opens.

“Surprise brother! Sorry I’m late. Did I miss dinner?” San’s brother Jinhyuk walks in with veggie wraps and steak bulgogi in his hand. San runs up to his brother hugging him super tight happier to see that he finally made it home. “Guys this is my brother Jinhyuk. Jinhyuk this is Chris, Angela, and Y/N.”

Jinhyuk smiles at everyone greeting everyone. “So what’s been going on with you guys? I know you have been stuck in school together, but what have you guys been doing outside of school?” Angela started by saying “Well so far me and Chris have been seeing each other every day. We always go to the park or the carnival when we get the chance for dates. We have also been hanging out with these two right here.”

Chris joined in saying “Exactly right. You can say we’re like the Scooby-Doo gang of course without scooby.” San laughs adding on “No way you’re definitely Scooby. Angela is Velma, I’m Freddy, and Y/N is Daphne.” Everyone at the table laughed as they enjoyed San’s ramen catching up with each other.

Jinhyuk elbows you as he chats with you in the kitchen. “Hey, I noticed that you were sitting there staring at my brother. What’s going on with you two.” Your eyes flashed wide open as you were surprised by Jinhyk’s sudden question. You faced him scratching the back of your head not knowing how to answer his question. “Well, I honestly don’t know. I think he just likes teasing me. One minute he flirts with me, the next minute he treats me like one of the guys. My mom also doesn’t want me getting distracted so I’m trying to keep my distance.”

Jinhyuk laughs and then pets your head. “Well, you both already failed at keeping your distance. I think he likes you, but since you keep running away or avoiding him too much, he feels like he’s making you uncomfortable and that you strictly want to stay as friends. I wouldn’t give him the wrong idea to be upfront about how you feel about him. You got this kid.” He grabs your empty bowl for you and washes the dishes giving you that boost of confidence. “You know what you're right. Mama didn’t raise no punk. I’ll tell him after we finish studying. Thanks, Jinhyuk I owe you the next time you visit.” You give him a thumbs up and skip happily out the kitchen looking forward to seeing your friends.

After hours of studying flashcards, everyone finally studied feeling confident in themselves about the final test of the semester. Everyone packed their things and was ready to head home since their parents were outside. You were the only one that still felt confident about your process throughout the class so you’ve decided to stay an extra hour to study with San.

“Are you sure this is right?” You put the pencil down crossing your fingers as San checks your work. “Wow yes, that is correct. See you’re doing just fine. You only got 7 wrong out of the 40 questions. Just keep using that method I taught you and you’ll be just fine.” San smiles at you pinching your cheeks. “It’s 10:30 pm. Your mom is going to be worried about you. You should start heading home. I'll drop you off.” San started putting his notebook and laptop back on his desk getting ready to leave his room, but you pull on his sleeve bringing him back down on the couch with you.

“Wait, um why don’t we watch a movie or something. My mom is out with Mr. Harris anyways they won’t be back until the morning. I kind of told her I was spending the night at my cousin’s house.”

San smiles, shaking his head gulping, sitting back down next to you. “That sounds nice and all, but I don’t want to get you in trouble. Plus you do realize you’re staying over at a boy’s house at night.” You lean your head on his shoulder holding his hand yawning. “I know I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything unless I told you I wanted to. Just for tonight please San?” San sighs, lifting your chin patting the back of your head. “Fine, but next time let me meet your mom. I want to know everything there is about you okay?” You nod linking pinkies with him. “Deal. Now let’s watch Money Heist Shall we?”

The next morning you wake up in San’s arms as you share a blanket on the living room couch. You woke up fixing his messy black hair struck by his sleeping face. “Gosh you're even more dreamy when you're sleeping.” You checked the time on your phone and realized what time it was.

Pre-cal normally starts around 10, it was 11:20. “San gets up, we're late for class! We can’t miss this one Mr. Harris is giving us get extra credit today.” San woke right up alert as he wiped the drool from the side of his mouth.

“Dang, we gotta go. Here brush your teeth real fast, brush your hair and let’s roll.”

The two of you got ready as fast you could and hopped right on his motorcycle speeding through the traffic throughout the city.

You wrapped your arms around San the whole time scared you’ll fall on the motorcycle. San felt so happy whenever you depended on him for anything. “God I love this girl. I know they say I’m too young or going too fast, but I can’t help it.” He mumbled under his breath as he arrived at the school.

“Well well if it isn’t San and Y/N. You better be lucky you didn’t miss the test. We just got done playing Kahoot.” The two of you poured with your heads looking down feeling ashamed as you walked to your seats. The two of you took one last glimpse of each before Mr. Harris handed out the test.

This was it after everything you’ve been through this past month with San and your friends. The hard work was going to determine if you actually made it through or not. Mr. Harris gave you a whisper of encouragement you never heard in a long time except for your dad. “Y/N no matter what happens I’ll always be proud of you. Finish this strong.”

Mr. Harris' words almost moved you to tears as you smiled and nodded your head right back at him. Now you understand why Maria loved him so much he was always passionate about teaching and cared about your well-being.

You grabbed your pencil and your laptop as you started getting to work. The whole time you were nervous and a few questions caused you to slip up, but in the end, you remembered how to do most of the work. San seemed to be holding up just fine so you weren’t too worried about him, Angela would always double-check her work before turning it in and Chris was surprisingly focused the whole time.

As everyone finished their tests Mr. Harris checked everyone’s grades one by one slowly seeing their process.

He stands up taking off his glasses and says. “Class...congratulations on becoming seniors! Everyone has passed summer school. See you in the fall.”

Everyone screamed cheering as the paper was flying and everyone in the classroom cheered. “Yeah, you guys hang out at the carnival!” Chris screamed and everyone followed him out.

Before catching up with everyone you called your stepmom to tell her the good news with Mr. Harris next to you.

“Mom, I finally passed. Dad’s face right now you know he’s probably crying. It was all thanks to Mr. Harris too, he's the best teacher ever.”

You can hear your mom’s voice on the other end as she gets teary-eyed. “Your dad would definitely be so happy that you passed, but also pissed because he never wants you in summer school ever again.” The three of you laugh together as you share the happy news.

“I’m so sorry I doubted you and was super harsh y/n. I love you and just want you to succeed. Your my only banana muffin I got in this world so don’t pull off any dumb crap like this ever again.”

“Yes mom, you know I will. I made a promise to dad after all. I will graduate and stay close to you if it’s the last thing I do. Love you, I'm going to the carnival with my friends.”

Maria makes kissy noises back and says “I love you too. Don’t stay out too late. Matter of fact I’ll meet you there since me and Harris have a date anyways. See you there.” You hang up feeling emotional as you hug Mr. Harris.

Mr. Harris pats you on the back saying “Didn’t I tell you she’s very proud. Now I think you need to catch up with your friends before he leaves without you. I’ll meet you at the carnival.” Mr. Harris leaves the classroom giving you one last smile and heading out.

You walked in the hallway looking all around the school for San, luckily you found him in the science lab where he’s sitting by the window with a sad look on his face.

“San. We’ve gotta meet up with everyone at the carnival. Why are you here by yourself?”

San sighs, crossing his arms.

“There’s no point in celebrating. I tried reaching out to both of my parents to tell them about one of the biggest accomplishments in my life and as usual, they didn’t answer.” You sat right next to him at the window petting his head. “You know what, how dare they? Forget them.

You have a supportive big brother, an amazing group of friends, and the best teacher a school could ever ask for. You have a family right here and we’re proud of you.”

San lifts his head up as he sees your bright smile that always makes him helpless.

“You always know exactly what to say. What would I do without you?”

He links pinkies with you. “I really can’t wait for you to meet my stepmom. She gets on my nerves sometimes and we always tend to bump heads, but we always come right back together. Dad would’ve also loved you. He was always straight to the point and never held back. I loved that confidence he always had.”

“Oh yeah he did get into that accident last year, I’m so sorry about that.”

You shake your head “It’s alright, I’m still holding up just fine. I’m just happy to have you here with me plus I get to be seniors with you and everyone else.” San looks up at you one last time slowly leaning his face close to yours until your noses touch.

“Gosh, I wonder what would happen if I made out with Y/N in the science lab? The janitor would for sure catch us in the act.” You giggle flirting with him back.

“The only thing he would have to worry about cleaning up is the kiss marks that are going to be on your neck.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were this playful. I love seeing this side of you.”

The two of you finally exchange a short yet sweet kiss in the orange sunset peeking against the window. It was going to last longer until Angela and Chris crashed the party with a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry up Freddy and Daphne the Scooby gang has to pull up at the carnival together. You guys can finish eating each other's faces off in the car. We can’t miss the flight of fear!”

The two of you looked at each other shrugging and walked together hand in hand out the classroom. “Well, I guess we will have to finish this on the carousel.” “Indeed, that sounds more romantic than making out while being surrounded by jars of disinfected frogs in the science lab.”

The two of you catch up with the rest of the seniors of class 2021 as you look forward to your last summer as juniors together. Today was going to be the day where you go all out and live like you're gonna die young.

119 notes · View notes

thenextchapter22 · 3 years

Text

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 8: Aw Rats

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Tail Fucking

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

In this chapter: Kitten and Barbatos spend time together!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Authors Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBATOS!! This one is for you :))

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

It was an early morning on a weekday. You woke up slowly, snuggling into the demon body beside you in bed. Sleeping in Belphie’s room was always your top favorite spots to get a great nights sleep. Surrounded in his bed with all his blankets and pillows he stacked up plus his warm arms around you, that was the best.

You were shaken out of the slumber by Beel shaking his twin’s arm, saying, “Belphie, Kitten, get up and eat.”

Belphie groaned, squeezing your body to him, nuzzling the back of your neck with his heated breath caressing you. “Mmmm... ‘s early, Beel. Later...”

The temptation to stay was strong, but your stomach gurgled and you decided to get up.

Wiggling in Belphie’s strong hold until you faced him instead of the wall, he opened one eye just enough to stare at you questionably. “Cuddle me later?” you said through a yawn.

Your youngest demon Master sighed, but gave you one final squeeze around your waist, lingering just above your bottom with his fingers, and kissed you gently. “Fine... Go on,” he said, and opened his arms to free you.

Beel helped you climb over him. As soon as you were out of the bed, Belphie went right back to sleep.

With a smiling sigh, Beel shook his head. “C’mon, Kitten. I’ve made one of your favorites for breakfast so let’s get you dressed.”

You picked at the thin silk short set you had worn to bed. Sleeping with any of them, you liked to wear little to almost nothing. Firstly, because a lot of them ran hot, and secondly so that you could feel their bodies closer to you. That extra touch made your body feel good.

You sat on Beel’s bed, waiting for him to pick out an outfit for you. Almost all of your Master’s liked to dress you. And because you usually stayed in one of their rooms, sometimes a different demon each night so it was fair—they liked to fight a lot about that—they had clothes ready for the next day.

The redheaded demon chose a soft pair of leggings and a short-sleeved scoop neck shirt, also soft, probably fleece . You smiled at the plain underwear he helped you slip on. Asmo , Lucifer, and Satan all liked to give you lace undies and bras, but the others preferred comfort for you. Either way you didn’t mind, they were your owners after all and you liked them dressing you up. The fun of it was seeing the different styles.

After you were clothed, Beel took your hand and smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You smiled right back and nodded, “Mmhm! ‘m hungry, Master.”

“Me too. I haven't eaten in minutes.”

Giggling, the both of you left Belphie to the room and went to eat.

Breakfast for you was perfect. Waffles soaked in syrup, piled high with berries and whipped cream. Sausages and eggs, too. The table was full, aside from Belphie. Your Masters all ate their weird demon foods. The day was looking to be a great one!

Once your belly was full, that was when your morning turned from sweet to just plain sour.

The worst news was given to you, and in anger you lashed out.

Which was why now, you sat dejectedly on the couch, arms crossed and tail swishing across your lap, the tip fuzzed out. You poked at your collar that was almost forced on you, a black leather collar that wasn’t uncomfortable but not your favorite, thick and ugly. A long leash was attached to it, and on the other end was Lucifer holding it. Usually you liked the leash, but not when it was a punishment.

Everyone was in the common room now, even Belphie who had gotten up after hearing the news. They either stood around you or sat on the furniture, but they all were looking at you with small smiles or smirks.

You were not amused. If you were an actual cat, your fur would be stuck up like the tip of your tail was.

The bad news that caused this problem... your Masters were leaving for the whole day to a RAD Student Council member only meeting that Lord Diavolo was holding.

You hated being alone. But because Barbatos was staying behind to make a feast for when they came back, he had volunteered to watch you.

When Lucifer went on and explained he was going to take you to Lord Diavolo’s castle for the hand off of yourself to the demon butler, you obviously did not want to go or for them to go and as such you had clawed at him, and thus the leash.

You didn’t draw blood, Lucifer was too fast for that, but the reaction was enough to be punished.

Huffing in your seat, you refused to not look angry. They were leaving you... again!

Lucifer sighed, and patted the top of your head a few times. “Bad kitty’s get punished, my dear,” he said matter of fact.

Your nose twitched. “I know...”

“You promise to behave for Barbatos?” Satan asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Master...”

“Don’t look so upset, it will only be for a few hours...”

“Why can’t I just be at home alone?” you asked, glancing at them all with wide eyes.

Asmo cooed. “Last time Simeon took too long, kitty cat, and you were upset with us. We’re just looking after you.”

You pouted.

Beel smiled. “Barbatos is excited to see you. And he said he wants you to taste test some of his bakes today. I’m jealous.” He drooled.

Your ears perked up. “R-really?” You licked your lips. Barbatos was the best baker you knew. His cakes and pies and basically everything he made was yummy.

“Kitten looks happy now!” Mammon said with a grin.

Satan agreed, “She looks like the cat who got the cream.”

Asmo giggled. “She probably will, too, and I mean to say Barbatos’~”

The others groaned or chuckled. You didn’t know what that meant, but you did love cream.

“We’re having a big feast later at Lord Diavolo’s castle, so be sure not to eat too much,” Lucifer said, and then announced it was time to go.

You stood as Lucifer started for the front door, the leash taught. Your Masters all said their respective goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ and it made you very happy inside. You would miss them so much.

Maybe it was better to not be alone, so you wouldn’t be so sad and think about them until they came home.

Turning on your heel before the front door, you smiled. “I love you, too, my Masters.” And you meant that, truly.

They all cooed, or grinned, and you waved goodbye.

It was only for the day, right?

_+_

The walk to Lord Diavolo’s wasn't too long. Barbatos let you inside the main entrance where you waited to be handed off like a true pet.

“Welcome, Lucifer, Kitten. We are going to have a good time together today, hm?” the demon butler smiled at you kindly.

You peeked at him from behind Lucifer and nodded once. Still, something inside of you was a little peeved.

“I trust you will be good?” Lucifer asked you, a stern look in his red eyes.

“Yes, Master, I'll be good,” you said.

Lucifer handed the leash to Barbatos, who took it without a single question. You wondered if Lucifer told him what happened and why you had the leash at all.

“She will be well looked after, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nodded. He gave you a single kiss on your forehead. “Behave, Kitten,” he said, and then he was gone out the door. You watched as he transformed into his demon form and flew off, majestic and sexy. You did love his wings; they were so soft.

“Kitten? Let’s go.” Barbatos smiled at you again, and gestured with his hand for you to go ahead and step further in the Castle.

You frowned, but did, and you found yourself in the kitchen after a little bit of walking.

The room was a far cry from the House of Lamentation’s kitchen. First it was much larger, higher ceilings, and had several ovens and even more cooking equipment. There were tons of cabinets and a large black table off to the side. The floors were nicer on your shoes, less chance of tripping on wood floors than badly lain cement blocks.

While you glanced around, you felt a tug on your leash and a click, and Barbatos was hanging your leash on a hook on the wall before you knew what happened.

“Wha-?”

“It will be easier for the both of us. I won’t say anything if you won’t?”

You giggled. The collar was still on, but that was fine by you. “Okay!”

“Perfect. Over this way please.” He led you to a counter, and there was a ton of ingredients out. They smelled sweet, salty, bitter. Some of them looked good, others odd colored or shaped, but still had a good aroma. “Today you can help me prepare the meal for their return.”

Your ears fell. “I can’t cook...”

"That's not a problem. You have two hands, and so you can mix. And taste test for me as well.”

Now that you could do with great pleasure. “Yes, I want to help!”

He chuckled. “I assumed so. We are only preparing desserts now; I will finish the rest of the meal later so it's fresh. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Baking with Barbatos was fun. You got to eat so many tasty things. He let you lick the spoon with the frosting, and gave you little chocolate chips. Mixing dry ingredients for him was harder than it looked and you got some flour on yourself, but that was why you had the apron on.

Although, it was strange that he already had the perfect one for you. It certainly was not for one of the demon brothers or Diavolo (right?).

After cooking for a long time, eating and mixing and opening and closing the ovens, setting all the pretty treats under domes on counters or in the fridge, you were totally exhausted. All the hard work and eating had really wore you out.

You yawned a few times, and rubbed at your eyes.

“Is it time for a cat nap?” he teased.

“Barb, I’m tired.” You yawned again.

He softly laughed. “All right. Come with me, Kitten.” He put the palm of his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the kitchen. You were taken around a few doors and small hallways to a wide window with a bed seat cushion, and it faced a garden full of flowers and wildlife.

“So pretty...” you were in awe.

“I thought you might like the view. Rest for a while and I will wake you up once you’ve gotten the proper sleep.”

You curled up on the warm bedding and purred. The sun was shining in the spot, and you could fit yourself perfectly in a ball. “Thank you~”

Barbatos smiled down at you, and pet your head, his hand lingering on your neck to squeeze once. It gave you the shivers. “You’re very welcome, Kitten. Sweet dreams.”

You fell asleep watching the birds flutter around and chirp.

When you woke up it was still sunny, but not directly on you. And you watched the garden for a while, and then you saw it.

A rat, scurrying across the field.

You made a sound and bared your teeth at it.

The window had a latch, and you undid it and crawled out to step into the garden. You were quiet, stealthy, your prey was right there. You caught it in your claws and squeezed until it was dead.

This was the perfect present to say thank you!

Barbatos had not come for you yet, so you set the dead rat on the floor of the room, waiting for Barbatos to come fetch you.

And when he came inside, he froze up, and stared at your gift. “Kitten.”

“Barb~ I got you a gift, it’s right there.” Your tail flickered in happiness, and you grinned a fanged smile at him, proud and excited.

He tensed as he walked around it, but did not pick it up. “Did you touch that thing?” he asked instead.

“Yes, with my claws. I killed it for you!”

“I see...” He held out his arms, and frowned. “Let’s go wash your hands,” he said.

You pouted. “Are you not going to take my present?”

Barbatos’ brows furrowed. “Kitten, I appreciate the gift, however...”

Now you understood, and your eyes watered. “Y-you hate it, don’t you?”

“Not at all, kitty, not at all. I just want to take care of you first.” He grabbed you under your arms and you were taken back to the kitchen, legs wrapped around his waist. You felt like a toddler but the warmth of his body was nice. “You need to clean up before you touch anything else.”

He directed you to stand before the sink and place your hands inside. The water was hot on your hands and you cried out. He apologized, and quickly turned it down, and then poured soap on your hands, helping wash them, getting between your fingers and under your claws.

“Rats carry diseases, and Devildom rats even more. I want you to be more careful.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Barbatos gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine. There now, let’s dry them and then we can get back to baking together.”

You dried your hands and frowned down at the tiles. “I just wanted to thank you...”

He cupped your cheek and had you look at him. “I know, but you don’t need to thank me with that,” he said, not unkindly.

Oh, so that’s what he was getting at. Well, your Master’s did not say you couldn’t please Barbatos, and he did take care of you. This was the only other way you knew how to say you were grateful for him feeding you delicious snacks and letting you sleep in the cozy sun spot.

“I can thank you like this,” you said, and knelt down on the floor right in front of him, your face at his crotch.

There was one quick inhaled from the demon butler. His gloved finger lifted your head up for him to stare down at you with his pretty green eyes. There was a slight hue on his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me at all.”

You licked your lips. “I want to. Please? Can I see your cock and suck it?”

He began thumbing your bottom lip. “If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t say no.” Then he made a concerned face. “Do you want something for your knees?”

You nodded, glad Barbatos was such a kind demon. “Please...” and he somehow had a throw pillow in his hands, and you lifted one knee at a time to get situated. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Quickly you helped him out of his pants, slipping them to the floor. As you did his hand caressed the top of your head, and you felt his dark gaze on you, watching every move you made. As his pants dropped to the floor, he stepped out of them, kicking them away. The mess was so unlike the butler from what you had seen.

Now he was just in his underwear, a silk dark green pair that outlined his cock and balls. You nuzzled his clothed dick. “Smells good, Barby.”

“Mmm, you like the smell of cock, Kitten?”

You nodded. “Yesss-”

His hand went to your hair at the back of your head to lightly tug. The pain mixed with his scent urged you on, and you had his boxers pulled down, and he was quicker in stepping out of those. His cock out inches from your mouth, half hard. Before you sucked it, you grabbed it to stroke it to life. You licked the tip once, he gasped. Then you swallowed him down and peeked up at him with a certain look, unmoving. Waiting for him to do something.

He got the idea and smiled. “Do you want me to use your mouth?”

You hummed, hopeful he understood it meant yes. And he understood because he began using your mouth. Filling it with his slicked head, hitting your tongue and roof of your mouth. Your lips were swelling up, and you suckled and slurped at his cock.

Clawed hands went to his waist, holding him steady as his fingers clutched your hair to do the same. The pain and scent surrounding you had your pussy wetting up, soaking your undies. But this was for him, about Barbatos’ pleasure. And a Kitten could please their Master, or their Master’s friends, and you would do a good job of it, too.

Breathing through your nose, you kept a firm hold on his hips, and your tail helped by wrapping around his thigh once to squeeze. His legs were bare, strong looking. You looked up at him, and met his dark eyes, flecks of black creeping in to those slate green iris’. It was sexy and you moaned.

“Ahh, Kitten,” he moaned. His hand not at your hair went to touch your tail, wrapped around a part of it and stroked like you had done to his dick. “Such a soft tail."

You moaned louder, vibrating around his cock, tonguing the underside with your flattened muscle, flexing. He tasted tangy and filled your mouth perfectly, and a little precum trickled onto your taste buds.

The demon butler tensed and grunted out a warning before he came in your mouth, and only then did you let him go. You held his spent cum in your mouth on your tongue, and showed it to him before swallowing. It was bitter, but you had worse.

“Such a naughty thing,” he commented, and pet your hair from your cheeks.

He smiled, and in his eyes was something new you hadn’t seen. He put his clothes back to right, and before you could react, he had you in his arms and then deposited you on the long kitchen table. The throw pillow was shoved under your body to lift you up at your lower half, and it helped keep your tail from being squished. But you were confused.

“Barb-”

“Hush now.” He stood at your feet, a demonic grin truly. “I shall return the favor,” he whispered. Barbatos’ appearance shifted, and he was in his demon form, his twin-tipped tails flickering behind him, his bat-like horns gleaming in the kitchen light.

His hands torn down your pants to your ankles, and you let him, him taking off your shoes next to leave you in socks and your top. Then you were spread open, panties glistening, socked feet flat on the table. He had you bend your legs so he could grasp your knees to keep you like that, but your pants hugged at your ankles like restraints.

Those eyes of his were basically neon green they were glowing, and he stared at your clothed core, and you tightened in response. Could he see the flex of your pussy?

“You got wet from sucking me, hm... How delightful.” His finger went to your waist, tugging under the band, and it snapped apart. He tore your underwear from you and exposed your vagina to the air, the coolness hitting your burning heat, wetness growing.

“Ahh, B-barb-"

His tails were hovering your vagina, twitching, and you leaned your head down to watch. You couldn’t see much past your belly as he lifted you up, but you knew what his intentions were.

You begged for it, “please, inside...”

He did not hesitate. His tail slowly went inside your pussy, thick, slimy, softly scaled. It was bigger than you figured, and you tightened down and wiggled your hips.

He tore his glove off with his teeth, and his bare finger circled your clit, the sparks of pleasure helping the stretch. “It’s okay, you can take it. Be a good kitty.”

You clenched down on him again and he winced for a second, but then his tail slithered deeper and flicked at the tip to hit that spot inside and you saw stars, clutching the table at each end with clawed hands.

“You’re damaging the wood,” he said with a bit of humor, but did nothing to stop you. His finger circled your clit faster and harder, and you were close but still felt like it wasn’t enough.

That was when his second tail spread your cheeks apart to press to your anus, slimy from the wetness leaking from your pussy. You were not ready for that, not now.

You cried, “nnngg, not there, please.” Your own tail swooshed in the air, a nervous twitch, and a warning that you did not like that.

Barbatos kissed your inner thigh, holding your knee wider with one hand as his tail fucked you, sloppy sounds echoing in the room along with your heavy panting. “I know, beautiful thing, I won’t.” He left the tail tip there, slipping over your hole to join the other at your pussy, pressing against its twin. “You can take two, can you not?”

You tensed and sobbed. ��P-please,” you desperately wanted to be torn open.

He grinned, sharp teeth, and shoved his second tail in along with the other. You arched your back and tossed your head to the side and sobbed, burning and intense pleasure/pain encompassing you. “Ahhhgg~”

The pace he set was fast and rough, the double tails slipping in and out and scrapping at the best parts of you, no time to adjust. “You’re so sweet, yet so naughty. I want to feel your pussy on my cock someday.”

“Uhh, yes, yes, want that-”

“Hm, I know you do.”

He was so himself like this. Barbatos was commanding and sure in his movements, and it was perfection. His head went between your legs and his mouth found your clit and licked and kissed wet and sloppily. You wished you could watch as he did, but your position only let you see his head bobbing, and his tail motioning in and out between your thighs.

He kept his mouth on your clit, swishing his tongue back and forth. “Purr for me, kitty,” he pulled back to say, and then with insane speed he fucked you with his serpent tails and licked you, like a vibrator toy for your clit.

The heat was reaching your belly in a boiling point now. Your body was hot, tense, and your toes curled, and then with an arched back, your belly tightened up and you were finished. “Cumming, Barb, cummiinnnnggg~” you exclaimed, spurting all over.

It lasted a few moments, but felt like longer. You kept your eyes shut and felt the excess amount of your own juices dripping out. The sparks went with the beat of your heart as you calmed down, almost like an exposed wire feeling every single thing. Your shirt was sweaty. Your throat sore, from both screaming your pleasure and holding some back. There was a little bit of tears drying on your cheeks.

When you did open your eyes, Barbatos was hovering over your head, smiling that gentle smile, this time it reached his kind eyes. “So pretty for me,” Barbatos murmured, kissing your cheek. “I need to clean you up now.”

You hummed, shutting your eyes as fireworks popped up in your vision. “Mmm, clean up,” you copied.

He chuckled, and lifted you up in his arms, and you whined but allowed it. “Come on kitty, you can have another nap after.”

You sighed. “Love naps.”

“I gathered that. You may be a second Belphegor and we just don’t know it.”

You giggled. “Mmmm.” What a silly thing to say.

_+_

“She looks exhausted,” Lucifer commented. He had a slight smirk in his eyes and on his lips, but not enough for the average person to see.

Barbatos shared a similar look. “Oh yes, we had an eventful evening, didn’t we?” You flushed red, ignoring the question, and he went on, holding out a few containers. “Here. To take home with you. The feast will begin in a few hours, but I know Beel will like to have some extras.” Barbatos handed you the boxes. “Thank you for all your help today, Kitten. Anytime you want to stop by, feel free.” The green of his eyes shone, mischievous.

You held in the whine, because you did want to visit again. But the teasing was too much and you were exhausted mentally and physically. You didn’t even want to be standing right then.

You looked at Lucifer and asked, “Master, can we go home now?”

“Yes, we can.” He took the leash from Barbatos and you both left Lord Diavolo’s castle for the House of Lamentation.

And if Lucifer noticed the limp in your walk, he said nothing on it.

Thankfully you were not in trouble. Your Masters, it seemed, did not care if you shared yourself. But you had to wonder the limitations of that... you’d ask another time.

So, you went home to rest before the feast, but in the end you did not go. You actually stayed behind with Levi who had plans to be online that night (Diavolo played video games, you heard, so he excused the Envy demon).

Snuggled up with him on the beanbag you lazily watched him play, occasionally getting soft pets between battles. It was boring to just watch, but you had enough excitement. This was a perfect way to end a sweet day.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #fanfiction #reader fanfiction #female reader #cat hybrid #hybrids #hybrid reader #shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me reader x barbatos #reader x barbatos #mail order kitten girl #my fics #ao3 link

87 notes · View notes