#clenching my little fists and throwing a fucking temper tantrum
Note
JESS NO FUCKING WAY i started uni today and my wallpaper is a 5sos themed one so this girl was like omg are you a calum girlie? and i was like nope im solidly in ashton lane and she was like OMG I LOVED HIM BEFORE AND DURING YOUNGBLOOD ERA BUT I KINDA STOPPED IDK WHY and i had to excuse myself instantly lest i say kys to a complete stranger that i have to see for another 4 years
no bc who could really blame us if we attacked??? like would we truly be the ones to blame for that?? we were provoked. ash girlies (gn) deserve a pass.
im making all of us permission slips to beat people up <3
#congrats on starting uni <3#or maybe this is like a return year either way congrats on a new school year#no bc seriously this isnt ok sdfghjk like im getting fed up im gonna start throwing punches#the next person that says they liked ashton but then stopped is going to catch my hands#like oh u stopped liking him when he stopped being a depressed alcoholic with an eating disorder?? damn that's crazy what a coincidence#ARGHH!!#clenching my little fists and throwing a fucking temper tantrum#do i think we should tell strangers to kill themselves no i dont#BUT#im not opposed to bitch slapping y'all#pigeon#anon
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Day 4 of Kinktober - Sanemi X FemGiyuu- hate sex.
This is my favorite one yet. I had so much fun writing it, I definitely need to write more SaneGiyuu and more hate sex in general.
Here's the sneak peek! And as always, if you'd like to support me and read my kinktober fics, check out how to through the link in my bio.
But it was after a drunken night where everyone was tipsy from the alcohol, that their little bet first came to fruition. The rest of the Hashira were either passed out or flat out drunk, Sanemi and Giyuu being one of them. With one brash insult after another, the two of them were close to fist fighting were it not for Uzui stopping them:
“Shame on you, Sanemi!” the man said, loud and drunk, his words slurring, “No man should ever- ever fight a woman!”
“She’s not a woman.” Sanemi responded with a sneer, “She’s a rabid bitch!”
“And you’re a pissy little cow who throws a temper tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way.” Giyuu retorted, “even babies are more mature than you are.”
“The fuck did you say?!”
“Now, now.” Uzui said, trying to calm them down by ruffling both of their heads, “let’s not fight. Both of you are frustrated with each other and there’s a very simple way to resolve this tension.” He paused, making sure both of them were listening before he continued:
“You just have to fuck it all out.”
“What?” Giyuu asked, “HUH?!” Sanemi barked.
“You two always butt heads and it can be solved if you just fuck.” Uzui continued, taking another shot, “Trust me, a long night of rough sex is the perfect remedy.”
“Hah! Like I’d ever sleep with this pig.” Giyuu snapped, “I bet he’s not even good in bed.”
“Please- My dick works just fine as long as I’m sleeping with a beautiful woman and not some witch that was fished out of a well!”
And thus, the bet was born. Whoever got the most kills on a mission would be in charge in the bedroom and fuck the other however they please.
Sanemi won the first round and he couldn’t be happier rubbing it in her face, the man going wild as he fucked her, insults and curses spewing from both their mouths. It was a fun and intense night but it proved Uzui wrong. It didn’t resolve anything- but rather- made them even more competitive.
Giyuu demanded a rematch. Which she won. So Sanemi demanded a rematch but Giyuu won again. So he demanded another. And then she demanded another. And she wanted a rematch after that one and well- now they’re here.
“Fuck yeah,” Sanemi growled, fucking Giyuu’s face mercilessly, his hips leaving the mattress to fuck into her mouth, “That’s it- take it- take it you nasty bitch!”
Giyuu couldn’t even glare at him, her eyes watering as his cock slid down her throat over and over again, her gagging adding more pleasure. His grip on her hair was unrelenting, using her mouth like a toy as he mercilessly pounded into her, his balls slapping against her chin. Giyuu assumed she’d be used to the sensation considering the number of blowjobs she’d given the man but, apparently not. Sanemi had a deliciously big cock (not that she’d ever tell him that) with a long, thick shaft and an angry red head with heavy balls. The first time she saw him, hard and dripping with pre-cum, she had to try her very best to not look fazed, lest the man get an ego about it.
“G-Gonna cum!” Sanemi moaned, tossing his head back, eyebrows furrowed as he felt the tell-tale signs of an orgasm rush over him, “Swallow every drop like you fuuuucking love it!”
Giyuu groaned around him and that just increased the pleasure, his balls clenching as he got ready to unload. A couple more thrusts and a loud shout later, Sanemi climaxed. He moaned loudly, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, pulling at Giyuu’s ponytail and keeping her flush against his abdomen. Cock shoved deep, deep down her throat, her fingernails digging into his thighs, Giyuu gagged around Sanemi’s cock as he came. Rope after rope of cum shot down her mouth, her throat constricting around him with each gulp, the man so far down she could barely taste him.
His balls throbbed with each pump, Sanemi lightly rolling his hips against her as he milked his dick for every drop, letting out a satisfied sigh as he watched the woman take him so perfectly. “There we go…that’s it…yeah, you fucking love it~”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Sanemi eventually let go of her hair, strands of it having been pulled out of her ponytail. She gently detached herself for his cock, leaving behind a sloppy, slobbered on mess. His dick was still hard, needing several rounds before it went limp thanks to his line of business and the stamina he built. Not that Giyuu was complaining of course.
“So full of yourself.” She teased, giving him another eye roll.
“Oh yeah? Then maybe don’t enjoy it so much.” Sanemi retorted.
“You think I’m enjoying this?”
“I do. But please, take those panties off and prove me wrong.”
Giyuu pouted, knowing full well that her panties were drenched, her pussy dripping.
Sanemi laughed, giving her a light pat on the face,
“That’s what I fucking thought. Now show me those tits.”
#subby writes#kimetsu no yaiba smut#demon slayer smut#genderbend#sanemi smut#sanemi shinazugawa smut#giyuu smut#tomioka giyuu smut#sanemi x giyuu#sanegiyuu
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Wrong On The Money (27)
part 27 of ?? | 810 words | Teen+
Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr
Summary:
Steve knows his hands are shaking, and he wants to stop them but he can’t. He’s also breathing too fast and his face feels like it’s crumpling, but he can’t fix that either.
27.
Steve knows his hands are shaking, and he wants to stop them but he can’t. He’s also breathing too fast and his face feels like it’s crumpling, but he can’t fix that either.
And he knew it, he knew that Eddie hates him. Why else would the guy think it was all to . . . to show off or something? It was stupid, even after all they’d been through, to think that might’ve changed. To think that “Big Boy” was anything more than temporary insanity, like his own overcompensating with Nancy and that six little nuggets speech.
The thing is, Steve had thought. He couldn’t help it. There’s this thing that happens when he throws himself between people and death—starting with Nancy, at the Byers’ house in ‘83, when he’d seen the bandage on her hand and pushed his way inside. It had extended to Jonathan as well when a monster dropped through the ceiling. Extended to Dustin when he got in his car the following year, and more of the other little gremlins as they came into his orbit. Steve started to care, and to his surprise they cared back.
So yeah, he’d assumed Eddie might too. That’s what this alternate dimension shit does, it makes you rely on the people in it with you, and with that comes . . . honestly, some of the best friends Steve has ever had. Friends he’s goddamn lucky to have.
But Eddie still hates him, the way Barb probably would’ve still hated him if she’d survived. It’s fine, he should have known to expect this, it should be fine.
(It’s not. Steve does want Eddie to look at him, he realizes, and not in a hateful way at all.)
He clenches his fists, digging his blunt nails into the heel of his palms, but in the end it’s the words that reel him back in. Eddie is talking again, rambling to put even Robin to shame.
Saying thank you for bridal carrying him out of hell. (As if a fireman's carry wouldn’t have been worse for Eddie’s injuries.)
Saying thank you for deciding to give him the money, and for using his being an asshole to trick him into taking it for Wayne’s sake. (An exaggeration. That made it sound clever, when Steve acted on impulse.)
Saying sorry for asking for interest, and that it was honestly all spent on Wayne’s medication, sworn on Dustin’s mother. (Judging people for how they spend money once they have it is something Steve used to do. He’s trying to not be like his dad anymore.)
Saying sorry for being a hypocrite, because he’s gay, and adding that Steve can spread that around if he wants because it’s not like Eddie’s reputation could get much worse. (Steve had kinda figured, but it’s nice to not have to assume.)
Saying sorry for being wrong.
At first Steve takes it all as lies to get him to stop making a scene. What other motivation could Eddie Munson possibly have? But the guy keeps going, and going, and going, and gradually it starts to sink in.
And Eddie keeps going like a runaway train. “Everything you did this past week is some of the most metal fucking shit I’ve ever seen in my life, man. Which I wouldn’t still have if you hadn’t dragged me in here and made them treat me. With what Dustin informed me was ‘the most badass temper tantrum ever,’ by the way.”
Steve almost chokes on a breath, managing in his surprise to get out a chuckle that only sounds half strangled. “Dustin said that?” he rasps.
“Oh yeah. Kid worships you, dude. It was kind of annoying, until . . . all this.” Eddie waves his hands around like they’re birds trying to launch themselves clear of his body. If it’s an attempt to get Steve to laugh, it doesn’t work.
But it’s a near thing.
Instead, Steve takes a deep breath and no longer feels an iron band constricting his chest anymore. He wiggles his fingers without any phantom pinprick sensations. The tension drains out of his limbs and he feels exhausted.
“Eddie?” he asks.
“Y-yeah?”
When he looks over, Eddie stares back with those big anxious Bambi eyes full of trepidation, as though he actually cares about what Steve’s about to say. Is it guilt? Is it trauma bonding and the solidarity of the matching bat bites on their torsos? Does it matter? Either way, it’s still care.
“Truce?” Steve offers.
There will be time for him to explain to Eddie about the panic and the nail bat he keeps in the trunk of his car, about Barb and wanting to be better. For now, he can bask in the smile that cracks across Eddie’s lips and the immediate “Yeah” he gets in return for the olive branch.
Maybe it will be fine. Maybe they can be friends.
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One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day
159. closure
It’s the worst fight she’s ever had with Joel.
It’s absurd, really. They’ve been re-divorced for six months. He has a baby on the way. She’s working consistently again, and they’ve been doing the co-parenting thing successfully for a while now.
So it’s a shock when he snaps, “Do you know how much easier my life would be if you would just get out of it?!”
She stares at him for a long moment before turning on her heel and leaving his apartment.
She ignores him shouting after her, “I thought you were taking the kids!” Because while she loves Ethan and Esther, Joel’s words have left her feeling so raw, so defeated, that she can’t be the mother they need at this moment. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now she needs to get as far from Joel and any reminder of him as she possibly can.
Which, unfortunately, also means she can’t go back to her apartment.
She realizes this just as she’s about to raise her arm to flag down a taxi, and her hand stops, falling to her side. She clenches her fists. She wants to scream, to throw things and break down and throw a temper tantrum in the middle of Chinatown.
She ponders going to Imogene’s before remembering she and Archie are visiting family in Iowa. She could go to Susie’s office, but that’s going to be the first place Joel checks.
So she takes a deep breath and walks. She walks until her feet are too tired to keep moving forward, and she realizes she’s ended up at Washington Square Park, the site of the last major breakdown she had the morning after being dumped from the Shy Baldwin tour.
She collapses onto a bench and feels her swollen, blistered feet thank her for the reprieve as she squeezes her eyes closed and starts crying.
She covers her face in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees to support herself while sobs wrack her body. It doesn’t even occur to her to care whether people are staring. Let them. Her ex-husband basically just told her he wishes she was dead, and she’s lonelier than she’s ever been.
A figure casts a shadow over her, and she ignores it until she hears, “Based on your posture, I’m guessing that’s not the show corset.”
She laughs through a sob because of course he’s here, her guardian angel, showing up out of the clear blue. She drops her hands but doesn’t look up. “This one has been officially dubbed the my ex wishes I was dead corset.”
She hears the burning of the end of his cigarette as he inhales. “Yeah, I’ve got a whole drawer of those,” he replies.
He sits next to her, and all she wants is to curl into him, close her eyes, and breathe him in until she forgets everything else around them. But that’s not who they are.
They’re just friends.
“So...” She sniffs, swiping her fingers under her eyes, trying to wipe away her surely fucked makeup before she looks at him. “You’re back.”
“I’m back,” he confirms quietly. “And just in the nick of time, it seems.”
“The nick of time?” She repeats.
Lenny taps the ash from his cigarette and it flutters away in the breeze. “To make sure you’re okay. Legend has it that you tend to get arrested when you’re in a bad mood.”
She scoffs a mirthless laugh. “Well, thank you for rescuing me, then.”
Silence falls, and eventually he passes her his cigarette, almost gone. “Last puff?” He asks.
She turns her head slightly, still unable to meet his gaze, and takes it with trembling fingers, inhaling gratefully when it touches her lips. “Thanks,” she says again.
“You wanna talk about it?”
She slumps back against the bench, her shoulders bumping his arm stretched over the back. He doesn’t move away though. In fact, he adjusts so that his arm is draped over her, and he gently squeezes her shoulder. She shakes her head and whispers, “No, I don’t...”
He nods. “Okay,” he replies softly, and he shifts a little closer so their sides are pressed together. “We can just sit here, then.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She looks at him cautiously.
His gaze is soft when he says, “You’re more important.”
She blinks quickly as more tears well up in her eyes, and she thumps her head against his shoulder as he soothingly rubs her arm.
#midgelenny#midge x lenny#midgexlenny#tmmm fanfic#marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic#otp: more important than god#jackal fics#mltswift
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Shadows:
@bokketo Maybe this one should have stayed in the drafts. It's going under a cut, I'll tell you that. Onyx if you never read this long rambling drabble where someone smacks Rán in the face and she proceeds to murder them without a second thought.... I understand.
In twenty years of life, Rán Malfoy had never been struck. There’d been a few elbows on the quidditch pitch. She’d been kicked by horses or hit by stray bludgers. When she was sixteen, she’d been bit by a particularly ill tempered pygmy puff. But no one had ever dared raise a hand to her. Perhaps that is why she hadn’t seen it coming.
She crumpled back against the kitchen table clutching her jaw and reeling. Her boyfriend—and she used the term very loosely—was apparently coming to terms with the action as well. He was boring a hole into her with that stupid stare of his, clenching his fists, and panting like he’d just fought off a tiger instead of someone half his size who hadn’t seen it coming.
“You’re a fucking bitch.” He huffed, pointing his finger at her. It was shaking. “If–if you hadn’t have—I’ve NEVER hit a girl but you—you’re a real fucking piece of work Malfoy.”
Rán flexed her jaw, tenderly exploring the split in the thin skin of her lips as she tasted copper. He kept yammering on, and the longer he spoke the more he stuttered, and the more his voice shook. She counted to ten, breathed deep, and stood up. When she looked back at him, he had tears in his eyes.
Pathetic.
“Baby… Baby I didn’t mean—I don’t know what came over me.” A tear slid from the corner of his eye, and he reached for her like a snot-nosed toddler would a teddy bear after throwing a fucking tantrum. He laughed pitifully through his tears. “You just, you make me crazy. You make everybody crazy. Come on, don’t be mad. I’ll–I’ll fix you up. What can I do?”
She schooled her expression and sighed, turning to pull out a chair at his shitty little kitchen table in his shitty little apartment. It took everything in her, but she forced her voice to stay meek and small. She even managed a sniffle. “Can you get me a wet cloth, please?”
“Of course. Of course!” He rushed forward to kiss her on the cheek, then practically ran into the bathroom.
“What a waste.” She mumbled as she reached into her purse. She plucked a little velvet pouch from the bag and emptied its contents into her hand. The distant sound of water running could be heard. One by one, she took her collection of little black pebbles, and set them before her on the table. Her finger pressed into the cut on her lip, and she placed a thick crimson dot to each one of them, muttering a quiet spell.
Thomas was back. He pulled her chair away from the table and knelt down in front of her. His hands shook as he dabbed her lip, but at least he wasn’t fucking crying anymore. He smiled up at her weakly, brushing the hair back behind her ear.
“It’s—you’re ok. You can’t even really see it. A little makeup and–and we can put this whole thing behind us. I won’t ever–ever–do that again baby. I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her forehead and she barely resisted the urge to retch. When he knelt back, she ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.
“Do you know what I always liked about you?” She hummed.
That brightened him up a bit. He forced another chuckle. “My devilishly good looks?”
“Mmm. That too.” Rán stood to her feet and took a firm hold on his chin. The afternoon sun was blazing, pouring in the window in the livingroom, warming the side of her face. It cast long shadows on the wall behind them. One of them opened its eyes.
“No. See what I always liked about you was what a good little dog you were.” She hissed, shoving him back roughly. He was a tall, muscular man, and it didn’t move him much, but it gave her a split second to escape the range of his arm as it tried to reach for her.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” His voice was heavy with shock.
Rán rolled her eyes, “Oh please, don’t act so surprised. I say I want to go out, you show up on my doorstep an hour later. I say go home, you tuck your tail and scurry back to this little shithole of yours. I say fetch-” She paused, picking up the rag from the floor and tossing it at his face. “You fetch. It’s how we’ve always been.”
“You-” He rose from the floor slowly, his jaw clenched. Rán leaned back against the counter as he started toward her. “What the fuck is your problem. You're crazy!”
“Down boy.” Her fingers snapped and the shadowy creature behind him crumpled to the floor. Unable to stop himself, he fell along with it. Rán crouched down to his level with a mocking sigh of disappointment. “Unfortunately baby, when your dog starts to bite—you have to put them down.”
He jerked, scrambling on the tile at her feet. She patted his head and stood back up.
“It’s not all bad though. I mean, can you imagine what my father would have done to you when he found out? I promise you, whatever comes next, it’ll be a whole lot more pleasant than that.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to test out a theory, and there’s no time like the present.”
“W-what have you done? What have you done?! I can’t fucking move Rán this isn’t funny!” He was thrashing helplessly, and it sounded like he was crying again.
“Oh come on sugar, you had to know you were fucked the second you clenched your fists, hm?” She teased. Rán flicked her hair over her shoulder and twitched her fingers. The shadow grinned a toothy grin and sprung to its feet, jerking its human meat-sack with it.
“Rán, baby, sweetheart, come on. I-I said I was sorry.” He rambled, trying to reach out his hands, but they stayed glued to his side. The panic in his eyes only grew. “I swear–I SWEAR I won’t do it again! Forgive me! Just forgive me please!”
“I’m not a very forgiving person.” She said with a tight smile. She took out her wand and tapped it against her split lip a few times. The wound and the blossoming bruise faded back into smooth, unmarred flesh. “Wait right here. Stay. Quiet.”
He didn’t listen, but she could hardly fault him. He was spiraling. It didn’t matter anyway. The shadow clenched its teeth together and all that could be heard were muffled whimpers. Nothing loud enough to break the soundproofing spells that wizarding apartments kept on their units to prevent noise complaints.
She found what she was looking for on his dresser. An antique watch that cost a small fortune, passed down to Thomas by his father. She swished her wand and it lifted up into the air.
By the time she walked back into the living room, he’d stopped trying to talk. He was, however, frantically crying, and it made him look so ugly she couldn’t believe she’d ever let him touch her.
“Don’t look so glum.” She plucked her ritual stones from the table and dropped them back into her bag. The spell was already done, the spirit under her control. There was no need for them now. “You know, you really are doing me a favor. I appreciate that. Which is why I am going to make this quick and painless for each of us. Come on. Follow me.”
He didn’t have much of a choice. She snagged a bottle of fire whiskey from the cabinet, poured herself a glass, and then thrust the bottle in his direction. He mutely clutched it in his trembling hands and followed as she stepped out onto the balcony. He was whimpering and struggling so aggressively, spittle was leaking from the corners of his mouth. She sat the watch on the slender iron rail beside them.
“You’re going to want to drink up, baby. It’ll make this next part so much easier.”
He didn’t want to, and she didn’t really care. The shadow raised a bottle to its lips, and the man followed suit. His jaw unhinged forcibly, and he sputtered the first time, coughing and spitting it back out. It flowed down his cheeks and onto his shirt.
“Oh don’t make a mess. Drink!” She held up her glass and tapped it against the bottle, knocking back the whiskey in one gulp.
“P-Please.” His voice was raspy and half choked. “Please. If–if you ever loved me-”
She burst into riotous laughter. “Oh. Oh baby now it’s just getting sad. Don’t go out like this. It’s pathetic.”
He stared at her as she wiped a couple of stray tears from the corners of her eyes, forced out by her peals of laughter. Whatever he saw in her expression seemed to make everything clear. His sniffling slowed and came to a stop, and he lifted up the bottle and started to drink in earnest. When half the bottle was gone, she smiled at him.
“What a good boy. Now-” She flicked her wrist and the watch began to slip. “Go fetch.”
In the coming hours she would cry and clutch her father’s arm as she explained the tragic story of the terrible accident to the aurors. How she’d begged him not to drink so much, and how she’d tried to drag him away from the balcony. It’d never been up to code, and she’d complained about it dozens of times, but she never thought it would give way like that. And in the coming weeks, she would sniffle and shiver each time anyone brought up his name. When the investigation closed, she’d spend a few weeks in the Mediterranean with her grandmum to soothe her poor nerves.
And in the evenings when she laid her head down on her pillows, the shadow on the wall would get down on all fours and bark.
It made them laugh every time.
#;;tw domestic violence#;;tw character death#;;;my drabbles#i'm not putting this one on main absolutely not
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renee
*I take a step back from him reluctantly as he stands, needing to separate us, knowing if I felt his warmth I'd melt and fall right into him, knowing I didn't deserve it and not feeling worthy of it* *my eyes widen as he says he'd never make fun of me, scoffing, all the anger and resentment I used to carry around towards him coming back full force at the memories of him doing exactly that, making fun of me for everything* Oh god, really? You're gonna say that to me? You made my entire life a living hell by teasing me, Anthony, are you kidding me? *my voice was colder than it had been since the night in the bathroom, having thought that I had put these harsh feelings towards him to rest but they were coming back full force right now* *I knew he was just trying to be nice but he was just bothering me, just wanting and needing to be alone, wanting to wallow by myself and not have someone try to make me feel better, it being a foreign thing to me, not sure how to accept it when I wasn't in little space like last time at the party* *I move my hand out of his reach, scoffing again, shaking my head* Like you're not here?! Why would I want it to be like you're not here when you could just actually not be here?! *my voice was getting louder now, my anger at my father and my job and everything else being misplaced onto Anthony, part of me feeling so fucking bad that I was doing this, him just trying to be kind and help and here I was, berating him for it* I just want to be alone, what about that is confusing you right now?! Just let me be, Anthony! *I was so close to stomping my foot, so close to a full blown temper tantrum but I needed to hold off until he left, I needed to cry and scream in private*
--------------------------------------------
*flinches a little in surprise at the anger in your tone, looking up at you and feeling like i had whiplash, so confused about where this was all coming from and feeling a little annoyed and attacked at why you were going to ruin this peace we made when i'd done nothing wrong* I thought we were past that, we were kids Renee. Why are you bringing that up now? *my brow was furrowed and my jaw was clenched, you making me feel so small and hating myself for that as I'd allowed myself to open up and be vulnerable and want you in this way and now of course I was getting hurt, it making me angry as i'd tried so fucking hard and you were throwing it back in my face* *fists clench a little and my stomach twists in frustration as you tell me you didn't want me here* What is wrong with you?? I was trying to be nice and you're having a fucking fit. I don't understand! *i was getting angry now, always getting angry when i was confused and hurt, dropping the remote on the sofa and striding past you towards the door* Fine, I'll go. Be on your own for all I care, maybe when you're thinking straight you'll realise what a mess you've just made for absolutely no fucking reason! *snaps at you, eyes furious as all i wanted to do was take care of you and you weren't letting me and that was driving me crazy*
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Jason Todd-Survival of the Dickest 😏🥺😌❤️😵💫😩
i’m assuming that this is for my sleepover (pick a title and i’ll write a blurb) SO enjoy this hot mess
warnings for non consensual creampie, name calling ( slut, bitch, asshole ) aaaand jason being mean — minors dni
“Fucking hell, I’m right there,” but you already knew that— you could feel him twitching with each oscillation of your hips, and see the way his lower lip quivered when he let out a pent-up, scattered breath. “Let me shoot it in you, yeah?”
“No— not a chance in hell, Todd.”
but then, Jason’s already taut countenance screws into one of disapproval, of rebelliousness. “You let Dick, don’t you?”
you exhale, both frustrated with his incessant need to bring up your boyfriend while he’s balls deep inside of you and enjoying all the sweet spots he’s hitting when you ride him. rolling your eyes behind closed lids, your tongue scrapes along your lower tier, and you roll your hips, both hands gripping the back of the sofa on either side of his wild, raven tresses. “We’re going to discuss what my boyfriend does inside me right now?”
“Right fucking now.” Jason grumbles, but his head falls back, ocean eyes turned up towards the ceiling and a whispered expletive leaves those plump, killer lips of his. “I want it, too. I want to see my load running down your legs.”
you grit your teeth, but avoid opening your eyes; fearful that to watch him moan would melt you, and you’d give in to what he wanted. “I don’t care,” you pant, half listening, nails biting at the cushion behind his head as you rock your hips back and forth, “fuck, Jason, tell me when.”
but he puffs up, because now is the perfect time to throw a temper tantrum. “No.”
you open your eyes, incredulous, and scoff. “Fine, finish yourself off, asshole.” pushing your palms flush against the expanse of his bare shoulders, you shift your weight to climb off of him.
“I intend to,” he snarls, both hands shooting out to grasp your wrists and anchor them to each side. you gasp, before your brows furrow and you squirm, but Jason sinks deeper into the cushions, legs kicked forward so he can wrap his calves around your soles and pin the tops of your feet to the front of the couch; essentially locking you in place. “And I’m gonna use your cunt like a cheap fleshlight to do it.”
“This isn’t funny,” you warn, arching your back when you strain against his grip, but the vice is too tight, “don’t fucking think about it.”
you know when his teeth sink into the lower, plush counterpart of his mouth, sullying a wicked grin, that you’re in trouble, and his hips jerk upwards, driving his entirety into you with reckless abandon. “Shut up and enjoy it, bitch.” he grunts, squeezing your wrists tight. your back arches and you hiss, eyelids fluttering. it felt fucking good when he took over, fucked you like he hated you, but you didn’t want to tell him that. still, he could tell by the way your brows knit together and you grind your teeth. “You like that? Yeah, you do. Love being ruined like a little slut? I can see it all over your fucking— hng, face!”
if your hands would’ve been free, there’s no guarantee his jaw wouldn’t have been dislocated, but you can do nothing but threaten from your current position. “Fuck you,” you growl, clenching your fists until they’re sore. your breasts bounce wildly with every, fervent thrust as he decimates your body, claims it like it’s useless without him there to fuck it.
“Fuck me?” he mimics you with a nasally whine, scrunching his nose, but it’s hard for him to keep up the mirror, because he’s losing his composure, “Shit, I’m cumming, you ready for it? You’re gonna take it all?”
“Don’t—“
but it’s already too late, because he’s jackhammering into you, panting and moaning like a wild beast out of breath, his jaw hanging slack. his eyes roll back when he finally comes completely unhinged, and his hips stutter. with one, final whimper of your name, he forces himself so deep into your belly that you feel like he’s tearing you apart, and you choke back a strangled cry. you had never felt him this deep, or this cruel. a faint warmth begins to seep into your core and you groan through gritted teeth, staring up at the ceiling. “How’s it feel to be full of my cum?” he’s breathing ragged, chest heaving and you’re floating atop his lap with each inhale, sinking with every exhale. “Good, right? Better than him?”
you take a shallow, weak breath.
“God dammit, Jason.”
#jason Todd#jason Todd x reader#jason Todd x you#jason todd smut#jason Todd imagine#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood smut#red hood imagine#robin#robin x reader#robin x you#robin smut#Robin imagine#titans#Batman#dc#dc comcis
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Take What's Yours
Zen'in Naoya x Reader
summary: Succession!AU where Naoya is the spoiled heir to the Zen'in Co. empire and you, Zen'in Co.'s general counsel, are forced to babysit.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, inappropriate workplace relationships/dynamics and a hostile work environment (obviously. it's a Succession!AU and it's Naoya), enemies with benefits, misogyny, femdom, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, spit kink 😛, masturbation (m), filming/pictures, face slapping, Naoya being Naoya, someone should really call HR
notes: Succession comes back in a couple of weeks and all I can think about is Naoya as Roman and you as Gerri. Also, "take what's yours" was the tagline for season 1 lmao
words: 3.5k
You didn't graduate top of your class from the most prestigious law school in Japan and earn your fearsome reputation as one of the most ruthless sharks currently working in corporate law just to play babysitter to a man your fucking age as he throws a temper tantrum like a toddler.
And yet here you are, forced to listen as Naoya rants about how he thinks Naobito has been showing too much interest in "that Megumi brat."
Even though the entire floor has already gone home and you've been trying to get your work done for hours, Naoya is still sprawled out across the couch in your office as he continues to seethe over how "this company's mine by fuckin' birthright."
But when he starts to go on about how "things're gonna look a lot fuckin' different once I'm the one makin' all the decisions around here" for the third time, you lose your patience.
You furiously stand up from your chair and lift the heavy binder laid out in front of you before slamming it back onto your desk. And that finally gets him to shut up.
"Get the fuck out of my office, you whiny, useless piece of shit!" you fume. Very slowly, Naoya sits up on your couch, his crisp white button-down looking annoyingly unwrinkled despite all of the lazing around he's been doing. "No one, least of all me, wants to hear you complaining about how you're not daddy's favorite anymore."
Even in the low light of your office, illuminated only by a desk lamp and the bright screen of your computer, you can see how his eyes flash. But you've gone up against Kamo Inc. in court and won. You've overseen buyouts and hostile takeovers of companies who dared to cross Zen'in Co.
You're not scared of Zen’in Naoya.
"Ya got any idea who yer talkin' to, doll?" he asks, his voice low.
And you just fucking laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
Because really? Really?
"Do I know who I'm talking to?" you mock when your laughter finally begins to subside, something sharper, deadlier, replacing the mirth on your face. "I'm talking to an arrogant and pathetic man-child who’s never had to work a day in his life and only got where he is because of his family name.”
With each word, you take a step towards him, rounding your desk as you close the distance until a few feet separate the two of you. You’re close enough now that you can see the way his jaw is clenched.
“You wanna know why your father is looking at replacing you as the heir to his empire?” you ask casually and his gaze narrows but he remains silent. “It’s because you’re nothing but a little rich boy who doesn’t use what little brains he has before acting.”
His hands curl tightly into fists in his lap, the fury beginning to roll off of him in waves. But you can also see something else starting to appear in his eyes — something excited. And it just spurs you on.
“If Naobito leaves his legacy to you, it won’t be long before it starts to crumble.”
His shoulders are rising and falling more quickly as his breathing picks up. It would be easy to assume it’s solely because he’s angry. But you’re smarter than that. You’re sharper than that.
“I’m yer fuckin’ boss, bitch,” he finally manages to growl and you just scoff with a roll of your eyes at his attempt to threaten you. You cross your arms over your chest and cock out your hip as you return to looking at him dismissively.
“Go home, Naoya,” you tell him, your voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and condescension. “Go home and sit down in front of a fucking mirror and jerk off to your own reflection since you’re so fucking high on your own over-inflated ego. The real adults have work to do.”
He gives you a long, dark look, holding your gaze as your words hang in the air. But then the corners of his lips curl upwards into the arrogant smirk that you’re annoyingly familiar with. He relaxes against the back of your couch and folds his hands behind his head, looking the perfect picture of nonchalance with the top button of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up, leaving his forearms exposed.
He chuckles and the sound only irks you.
“Go home? Why would I need to go home? In case yer too blind to see it, Zen’in is written across the fuckin’ building. I own this place.”
He then pauses to take in his surroundings, his eyes roving over the interior of your office from its glass walls to your wide view of the Tokyo skyline at night to the full yet neatly arranged bookshelves. After a few moments, his eyes land back on you. When you raise an unamused eyebrow, his smirk grows.
“Y’know, maybe I’ll just jerk off right here in yer office,” he shrugs and opens his legs — already spread apart in a textbook example of manspreading — even wider, like he’s trying to emphasize his crass words. “Maybe I’ll come all over yer carpet so that ya gotta look at it every time yer in here. And maybe I’ll make ya just stand there and fuckin’ watch while I do it, sweetheart.”
But you’ve had enough. This is just another one of his temper tantrums.
“Go ahead. I’m the youngest general counsel in this company’s history. My job is to protect the company by providing legal cover for all the sick shit your family gets up to.” You clearly spell it out for him like the idiot he is.
You give him a once-over with your eyes, visibly unimpressed with what you see. However, with his legs obscenely spread so fucking wide, it’s impossible to miss the bulge in his crotch.
You’re not surprised that he’s hard, not with the way he’s looking at you. Nor are you surprised by how shamelessly he’s displaying his erection. Naoya’s always felt the need to “prove” his masculinity, like a dog peeing all over its territory.
All of it only fuels your disgust for the man who’s more than old enough to know better.
“Do you really think you can scare me into submission like one of your spineless lackeys just by threatening to wave around your dick?” you continue, making no attempt to hide your skepticism. “I’ve seen much worse than some spoiled brat getting cum stains all over his Armani pants.”
“They’re Tom Ford,” he’s quick to smugly reply, seemingly pleased that he gets to be the one to correct you. Your response is a look of boredom. “And are ya really sure about that?”
He drops his hands from behind his head to let one rest on his belt buckle while the other cups the bulge in his pants, grinning up at you as he gives it a squeeze.
“I fucking dare you,” you hiss, a look of pure ice on your face.
The tension is thick as your gazes remain locked on one another’s, each of you waiting to see who will give in first in this game of chicken that you’ve found yourselves in the middle of. But neither of you have ever been the type to back down.
So, when Naoya begins to unbuckle his belt, it’s honestly to be expected. But as the sound of his belt buckle being undone clinks in your ears, followed by the sound of him unzipping his pants, you can’t help the shock that washes over you.
He’s actually going to go through with it.
You can’t do anything other than let out a short laugh of disbelief, a wide smile on your lips.
“You’re really doing it, aren’t you?” you ask, incredulity coloring the clearly rhetorical question as he pulls his cock from his designer slacks and brazenly begins to stroke it in front of you.
Your astonishment only lasts for another moment before you’re able to brush it off, pushing it deep down alongside the arousal that threatens to shoot through you as you watch Naoya spit into his hand to make the glide of his palm on his shaft all the smoother.
“Do you really think masturbating on the couch in my office and making a mess like a little boy who can’t clean up after himself is a way to assert your dominance?” you scoff, the smile on your lips turning cruel. “Are you that stupid? Do you really think you’re in charge here?”
Normally, Naoya would respond by lashing out, throwing insult after insult your way about how “yer place ain’t in the fuckin’ board room, it’s in the bedroom on yer knees,” before giving you a greasy smile and offering to replace “the stick up yer ass with somethin’ a lot bigger, doll.”
But right now, all you can hear is the wet sound of his spit-slicked hand pumping his dick, his labored breathing, the sound of his belt clinking with each movement, and the little grunts he lets out each time he circles the tip of his cock with his thumb.
“This is why no one takes you seriously, you fucking pig,” you tell him dismissively.
You then pry your eyes away from the show playing out before you. Doing so takes much more effort than you would ever admit and you know you hide it well because a soft little moan escapes him when he sees that your attention is no longer solely focused on him.
Instead, you’re looking out of the glass walls that look out at the rest of the floor’s empty office space. It’s dark, only a few fluorescent ceiling lights remain on. It looks like the two of you are the only people left on this floor — not a surprise considering hate late Naoya’s kept you, first with his whining and now with his impromptu show.
When you finally look back at him, it’s with a soft snort and a look of disgust.
“For fuck’s sake, what do think the board, your family, your father, would say if they knew about this?” The question should bring him to his senses and snap him out of whatever trance he’s fallen into. But as always, you know better. You get paid a frankly obscene salary to know better.
“All it takes is one security guard on his rounds or one janitor coming by to empty the trash,” you point out. “And then everyone would know. They would all know that you’re just a sick fucking pig who thinks with his cock.”
His eyes have lost their anger, but none of their heat. His annoyingly handsome face is flushed and he’s biting down hard on his bottom lip. You assume that he’s doing so to keep himself from moaning, but it does nothing to prevent the low grunts and soft whimpers that escape him.
All the while, his hand never once ceases in its movements.
“Maybe I’ll cut out the middle man and just let them know myself,” you shrug before casually pulling your phone out of your pocket and holding it up to thoughtfully look at it. “If just a single picture falls into the wrong hands then you can kiss any delusions you have about being named CEO goodbye.”
You look back to Naoya just in time to see the way his hips jerk up from the couch in excitement, a desperate little, “fuck,” leaving his lips. You’re careful to maintain your apathetic facade as you open the camera on your phone and point it directly at him.
“Well, Naoya?” you prompt, your thumb hovering over the record button. “Feel like taking a risk tonight?”
Just as you expected, Naoya begins to nod wildly without even taking a moment to consider the consequences of what he’s so eagerly agreeing to. It probably has something to do with the way his cock is leaking into his hand as he quickens its pace.
But it’s all the consent you need to hit record. You glance down to ensure that he’s perfectly framed on your screen before returning your attention to him.
Only for a dangerous look to pass over your face when you look back up to see that he’s closed his eyes and dropped his head to rest against the back of the couch.
“No,” you’re quick to scold, the single word sharp and heated enough to make his hand come to an immediate halt. His chest is heaving as he raggedly pants for air. “Eyes on me.”
He takes a minute, seemingly letting your words sink in before his eyes slowly open. You see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows. And then finally, he lifts his head back up and brings his gaze back to yours.
“Look at that. You do know how to be a good boy and do as you’re fucking told,” you muse and the praise, even when it’s dripping in condescension — or more likely because it’s dripping in condescension — is enough to make him whimper. But still, he remains frozen, his hand wrapped around his cock and doing nothing more as his eyes stay on yours. “Well? You’re wasting my very expensive time.”
Now that he has your permission, his hand begins to move again, its pace bordering on frantic as it moves up and down his shaft.
“I’ve always known you were pathetic but this a new low for you, isn’t it?” When he doesn’t reply, you raise an expectant eyebrow and your voice is colder when you urge him to answer. “Isn’t it?”
“Y-yeah,” he rasps but it’s still not good enough for you.
“Tell me how pathetic you are,” you demand. There’s a line of tension in his shoulders and around his eyes that lets you know it won’t be much longer before he comes.
“F-fuckin’ pathetic. I’m, nn, fuckin’ pathetic,” he grunts, his words emphasized by the unintentional whine that comes from the back of his throat. There’s a desperate look in his eyes as he wordlessly pleads with you. “G-gonna come. Shit. Oh, fuck! G-gonna, gonna fuckin’ come.”
You know what he’s asking for, even if he’s still too proud to say it aloud. He’s asking for your permission to come.
But you’ve never been one for mercy. Not in your work. Not in your personal life. And certainly not when it comes to Zen’in fucking Naoya.
You look down at your phone screen and hit the button to stop recording, putting it away before casually crossing your arms over your chest.
“Hold out your hand,” you order him and when he holds out the one not furiously pumping his cock, you roll your eyes. “The other hand.”
It looks like it physically pains him to do as you ask and take his hand off his dick, but he does it. Slowly, he outstretches the hand coated in the rivulets of his pre-cum towards you with his palm facing up.
You move closer and lean in just slightly so that when you purse your lips and let your spit slowly drip straight down, it falls directly into the center of his palm and forms a pool. When you’re done, you lick your lips clean and step back to your original spot, only to find that Naoya now looks crazed.
His eyes are darting back and forth between your lips and the small puddle of your spit in his hand. You glance down at his cock and it’s so hard and red in his lap, a trail of his pre-cum leaking right down the vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, that it looks like all it would take for him to come is a soft breeze.
You allow yourself another moment to revel in the sight before you wave a dismissive hand.
“Well? Continue,” you tell him and he finally meets your gaze again to see you giving him an impatient look as you wait for him to do as he’s told. “Unless you want to keep wasting my time?”
Your tone promises something unpleasant if he does anything other than immediately comply. He takes one last look at the image of your spit in his hand before wrapping it back around his cock.
It takes every ounce of self-control you have to keep from shifting where you stand as the fabric of your underwear clings uncomfortably to your soaked folds. It’s been a while since you’ve been this turned on, not that you would ever dare admit it.
But seeing Zen’in Naoya, entitled piece of shit and bane of your fucking existence, on the verge of coming and with his cock coated in your saliva is something that you’ll never forget. Not least because of the video that’s now stored in the cloud for you to access whenever you want.
“Are you gonna come, Naoya?” you mock and he can only nod through the moans spilling from his lips. Your next words are spoken so coldly that even through his pleasure, a chill runs down his spine. “You better ask for my fucking permission before you do.”
“P-please?” he’s quick to ask, utterly shameless even when it comes to begging for an orgasm.
“Please what?” you prompt and he groans loudly as he tosses his head back against the couch in frustration.
“Jus’ lemme come. Lemme, ah, l-lemme fuckin’ come, ya fuckin’ bitch,” he whines and it’s the threat of tears you hear in his voice that finally makes your lips break into a wide and sadistic smile.
“I think you’re the bitch in this situation,” you say and he whimpers, his hips jerking and his hand desperate.
“F-fuckin’ please!” he cries and you let his plea hang between the two of you, savoring the sound.
“Come, you absolutely worthless, spoiled fucking brat,” you bite out and before you know what you’re doing, you’re quickly closing the distance between the two of you so that you can deliver a harsh and strong slap to his cheek.
The crack! of your palm meeting his face is drowned out by the deep groan that leaves his chest, his cum immediately spilling out in white spurts that stand out starkly against his black pants. His hips give another few jerks into his hand, which is coated in a mixture of his cum and the combination of yours and his spit.
His eyes are squeezed tightly shut and his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he pants for air. Your palm is still stinging when you take his chin between your forefinger and thumb to carefully turn his head to the side so that you can get a better look at his cheek that’s now quickly turning red from your slap rather than his post-orgasm flush.
You release him to gently trail a fingernail down his smarting skin, but your smirk turns mean and you dig your nail in hard enough to make him wince before you drop your hand back to your side. You slowly look him over before your eyes land back on his cheek and an idea pops into your head.
Just as you did before, you lean in slightly and purse your lips before spitting in his direction. Only this time, instead of pooling in his hand, it lands directly on the cheek you had just slapped.
His eyes shoot open, a mixture of anger and shock quickly contorting his features. But just as he opens his mouth to throw a barrage of insults your way, you’re quick to cut him off before he can get started.
“Ah ah ah,” you scold him with a smug smirk on your lips. You then guide his head to turn back to the side with the tip of your finger, leaving his cheek and the shining gob of your saliva perfectly on display.
His eyes are filled with an intense loathing but he stays still for you, even when you pull your phone back out and point the camera directly at him. The flash blinds him and the shutter sound echoes in his ears as you take a picture of his shameful state.
His humiliation only grows when your eyes stay on your phone instead of returning to him. You don’t even bother sparing him a final glance as you snort and shake your head with a muttered, “pathetic,” before turning on your heel and walking back to your desk.
When you sit down and return your attention to the binder that was only recently the victim of your rage, he’s left alone on your couch, sweaty and with his dick hanging out, his clothes stained, his hand sticky, as he tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.
“Get the fuck out of my office,” you tell him without looking up and his vision goes red.
He should give you a taste of your own fucking medicine. He should grab you by the back of the neck and pin you down to your desk. He should fuck you so hard that you’re torn between crying for him to stop and crying for him to keep going. He should leave you in a ball on the floor, coated in cum, spit, and tears.
But instead, all he can do is seethe when his cock twitches in his hand at your dismissive tone.
#zenin naoya#naoya zenin#zenin naoya x reader#naoya zenin x reader#zenin naoya smut#naoya zenin smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk smut#mel writes#take what’s yours#jjk spoilers
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Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux
Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader
Requested: By anon.
Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.
Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3
Wordcount: 5632
Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.
Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.
Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.
Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.
So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.
That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.
But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.
But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.
Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.
The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.
It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.
But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.
You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.
You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:
“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”
He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.
“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.
The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.
As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.
No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.
Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.
You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.
His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.
You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.
You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.
But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.
“Don’t call me that.”
“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”
“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.
Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.
No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.
Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.
He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.
“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.
“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.
“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”
At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.
“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.
“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.
“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.
“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”
You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.
“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”
You could only roll your eyes.
“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”
As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.
He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.
“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.
“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”
“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.
He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.
“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”
He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.
So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.
“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.
You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.
You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.
You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.
If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.
Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.
Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.
After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.
Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.
You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.
While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.
That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.
You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.
He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.
But then again, who did in these parts?
“Is that my shirt?”
You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.
Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.
You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.
“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.
Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.
“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.
Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.
“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”
“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”
Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.
You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.
Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.
Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.
He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.
You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.
“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”
Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.
But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.
The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.
Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.
But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.
The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.
You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.
Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”
He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”
You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.
You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.
He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.
“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.
“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.
“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”
“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”
“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”
You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.
“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.
Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.
Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”
He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.
“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.
“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”
“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.
He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.
When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.
With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.
You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.
Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.
A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.
Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.
As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.
Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.
You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.
Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.
Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.
Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.
By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.
You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.
You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.
And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.
Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.
The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.
The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.
The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.
Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.
You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:
“Is that my shirt?”
You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.
“Yes, it is.”
“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.
“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.
Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.
You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.
Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.
You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.
But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.
His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.
But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.
“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”
As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.
A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.
The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.
“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.
“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”
“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.
“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.
“Why are you helping me?”
You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.
“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.
“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.
“You did. On countless occasions.”
He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.
“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”
Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.
You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.
“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.
He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.
“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.
“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.
But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.
He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.
“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.
“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.
You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.
With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.
Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.
#hux x reader#hux imagine#hux#armitage hux#armitage hux x reader#armitage hux imagine#general hux#general hux imagine#general hux x reader#domnhall gleeson#star wars#star wars imagine#star wars x reader#kylo ren#knights of ren#the first order
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Poison never tasted so sweet
Alex looks even more unsure of himself, looking around as if searching for help. Morgan can see, over his shoulder, the car parked just in front of his door. The Secretary is probably there, waiting, so why did the mob boss brave the dangers of customer service alone?
“Is this a ‘my condolences’ or a ‘this is a message’ occasion?” he prompts, feeling a little sorry for the guy. He’s obviously awkward in interactions where he’s not barking orders or threatening people.
(Not that I’d be opposed to being bossed around or grabbed by the neck by him, a traitorous part of himself whispers. He’s quick to wave the thought away. He knows when he has no shot.)
-.-.-.-.-.-
In which there's a tired secretary, a smitten mafia boss and a cute florist boy who's way too interested into poisonous flowers.
Or, the meet-cute you don't need but I wanted to write as a bribe.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Jeremy is just so exhausted. And worst, he can’t even complain to anyone. Not because people wouldn't sympathise. A handsomely paid job means nothing in the face of a tyrannical boss who has absolutely no regard for personal hours or boundaries as he demands unfaltering obedience and perfection from his, and he’s quoting, ‘minions’; he knows, without a doubt, that he could go to any bar in town, sit by the counter to complain to the bartender about his life, and make at least three eavesdropper friends who would share his woes and relate to him. Maybe find himself a nice guy or gal to spend the night with, joined both in carnal passion and occupational despair. Could even be his soulmate, who’s to know.
And still, he can’t. Because someone is bound to ask just who his despicable boss is, and there’s no way to sugarcoat the name Alex Createur. He’d be on the second syllable, and the bar would be already empty. And, knowing his luck, some dirty bastard would be scared enough of the boogeyman under his bed to even call one of his boss’ informants (there's thousands of them, all over the city; finding one is no hardship at all) and tattle. Not that Jeremy is afraid for his life (he’s made himself too indispensable to kill), but his paid time off might suffer the consequences of his whining, and that’s something he’s not about to risk.
So here he is, repressing the urge to yawn as he watches his boss angry storming around his office. Yelling to the unlucky soul on the other end of the line something about disemboweling and student debt-levels of stress, before hanging up and throwing the phone at a wall, missing his head by less than five inches.
Jeremy just takes his own phone out, placing an order for a replacement. Because he’s good, and universally known as The Secretary (the only one competent enough to survive under Mr Createur’s thumb longer than two years), he has a direct link to most shipping companies all around the globe, and they all know to deliver whatever he asks for with utmost promptness. They are well aware who he works with, and the consequences of making said man wait. No one wants to tell the right hand man of the biggest mafia boss of the country that he has to wait a day the reglementary 24 hours for his product to arrive, after all.
(And this privilege, Jeremy ABSOLUTELY abuses. Like when he’s home late, tired after a day of dealing with his boss’ latest temper tantrum, and all he wants is some pizza delivered at his door the second he gets out of his five minute shower? He will one hundred percent name drop his title to have the poor delivery man tear ass across the city, arriving at his door a sweaty mess with thirty seconds to spare.
He doesn’t have the best workplace environment, but man does the job have perks)
As an afterthought, he wonders what time he will get off today. Judging by Sir’s murderous frown and his clenching fists, he guesses not anytime soon. Fuck.
Oh well.
“Should I inform Matthew, Sophia and Rick that they are needed, Sir?” he asks, going through his mental list of which hit-people were on shift that afternoon. Because, unlike him, hitmen and hitwomen got to leave at the end of their scheduled time and be replaced with the next batch, keeping an ever flowing, cycling stream of competent killers on call. Lucky bastards.
Mr Createur actually stops at that, still heaving from his tirade. He stands still in the middle of his wine-color carpeted office, head tilted like a panther about to strike. The floor to ceiling windows, with a breathtaking view of the city from up high (as if Mr Createur didn’t already hold the high ground above all other crime families in the country), let in the reddish hue of the setting sun, making it seem like the entire room was painted in drying blood.
Lovely.
“No”, he finally says, voice deceptively calm and collected. Jeremy wants to groan, because that means- “I’ll take care of that personally.”
Yep, extra hours. Yay.
“Of course, sir. The car will be waiting for you as soon as you step out of the elevator. Should I prepare your preferred ‘tool-kit’?”
His boss shakes his head, void-like-black hair hitting the air like little whips with the movement. He pats down his suit, pristine already, because he’s secretly a theatre kid and lives for the drama. Jeremy almost expects to be ordered to find him a cat to pet as he plans his next big blackmail of a promising politician.
“That can wait. First, we need to buy some flowers.”
“...flowers, Sir?”
“To send to Mrs Lucinda. The poor woman is bound to be very sad when she learns about her son’s awful, horrifying, soon-to-happen murder.”
“... of course, yes. I’ll order those and meet you at the next location, then?”
“No. I want to choose them personally. Find me the closest flower shop; it’s been a while since I took care of these matters. It’s good to go back to one’s roots once in a while.”
Jeremy knows better than to ask something he doesn’t really want to know, but- “Didn’t you start your mafia career when you turned 12, Sir?”
“Yes. And?”
“...nothing, Sir. ‘Disaster Flowers’ is three blocks away, or we could go to ‘Sparkly Nature’, if you’d prefer someplace with better yelp reviews and don’t mind a ten minute drive.”
“No, the sooner the better. We can't have poor Mrs Lucinda wait too long.”
Jeremy privately thinks the woman won’t be too cross about her son having ten extra minutes of life, but he doesn’t care enough to actually voice his opinion. He just nods and follows his boss’ footsteps as they make their way to the elevator.
As expected of an establishment with a name including the word ‘Disaster’, the place is empty when they arrive. It’s most likely due to poor marketing, because the shop itself seems pretty okay. Flower beds cover every wall, an eye-catching spectacle of colorful variety. The floor is freshy swept, no dirt staining the green tiles except the parts around the pots in the center of the shop, with small trees that Jeremy lacks the knowledge to recognize.
“Hi! Just a moment, I’ll be with you soon!” comes a voice from behind the counter on the far end of the room, probably alerted by the wind chimes at the door.
Jeremy wants to use his Secretary title to transform ‘soon’ into ‘right the fuck now’, but his boss seems content to wait as he examines the flowers to his right, so he stills his tongue. Another time, perhaps.
He follows behind Mr Createur, paying attention to which flowers he stares at the most (the monster is totally capable of telling him to ‘buy what I liked’ and expect Jeremy to just know ). He’s so focused on memorizing colors and shapes that he completely misses the approaching man, until he’s standing right next to them, happily smiling up at Mr Createur like he didn’t just sneak up to the country’s most dangerous mafia boss. Not that Boss looked startled at all blinking down at the smiling man with something akin to wonder in his golden eyes that Jeremy was immediately wary of.
“Good afternoon, you two! What can I help you with?”
He opens his mouth, because Boss doesn’t normally interact with peasants, as he calls them, unless its to kill/
“Good afternoon”, he says, leaving Jeremy swallowing his words and surprise. “My name is Alex Createur. I’m just…looking”, he says, slowly, enunciating every word carefully. There’s a strange look on his face as he seems to examine every detail on the worker’s, like there’s something in his chocolate colored curls and almond eyes that caught his attention. Jeremy can’t see it.
The heavy name drop should have made the man pale and tremble. If he were sane or smart, that is. This employee is obviously neither of those things, because his smile doesn’t falter as he offers his hand, gardening glove stained with dirt and something darker (water?). Like Mr Createur would ever touch/
And he’s shaking hands with the florist. Had Jeremy fallen asleep on the job, was he having a fever dream? Or perhaps an hallucination?
“Cool, I’m Morgan Contenu. I own this flower shop, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ll let you browse at your own pace, but I’ll be over there watering the bloodroots if you need anything.”
And then he’s off to the other side of the store, step almost bouncy, audibly humming under his breath. Jeremy mentally tags him as ‘idiot without self preservation’ and turns back to his boss, expecting him to be fuming at the disrespect of not having the worker bending to his every whim.
He looks mesmerized.
Jeremy promptly turns his attention to the indoor mistletoe growing in a nearby pot. It’s probably less dangerous than whatever is going on inside his boss’ mind right now.
Despite Sir not even looking at it once, Jeremy picks a bouquet of Tea roses after a quick google search. ‘Love at first sight’ might not fit a mother soon to lose her son, but damn if it's not fitting for the mood in the car ride to the warehouse ten minutes later, as Sir looks out of the window and sighs like a sad maiden whose love left for war.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Morgan wasn’t expecting the cute dude from last monday to visit again, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he comes back from the back of the store after a quick break to find Alex there, alone this time, looking through his hydrangeas’ selection. Grace, beauty and abundance. Perfect for a man as obviously rich as he is pretty.
“Hey! You’re back! How is it going?”
Poor Alex looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Morgan almost can’t believe this is the most powerful mafia boss in the city. He’s way too adorable.
Because yeah, of course he knows who he is. He’d have to be blind or dumb to not recgonize the name, specially considering his stranged mom was still an active cop before he left home, and wouldn’t stop complaining about being unable to catch him.
Maybe it was his mom’s hate towards him (the enemy of my enemy is my friend?), but Morgan doesn’t feel threatened in his presence. Or maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.
“...Yes, good morning. I’m… flowers?”
Laughing a little, Morgan approaches him slowly, carefully dropping a bonsai on the nearest shelf on his way over.
“Yep, I sell those. What’s the occasion? I could recommend something based on that, if you’d like.”
Alex looks even more unsure of himself, looking around as if searching for help. Morgan can see, over his shoulder, the car parked just in front of his door. The Secretary is probably there, waiting, so why did the mob boss brave the dangers of customer service alone?
“Is this a ‘my condolences’ or a ‘this is a message’ occasion?” he prompts, feeling a little sorry for the guy. He’s obviously awkward in interactions where he’s not barking orders or threatening people.
( Not that I’d be opposed to being bossed around or grabbed by the neck by him , a traitorous part of himself whispers. He’s quick to wave the thought away. He knows when he has no shot.)
The business looking man looks at Morgan straight to the eyes for the first time since he stepped in, all curiosity and wonder. He seems… shocked? Pleased?
“You know who I am”, he mutters, softly, hand twitching. Morgan half-wonders if he was about to reach for his gun or to touch his hand. He hopes it was the latter.
“Well, yeah, I’m not stupid.”
“And you’re not… scared” it's not a question.
“Nah. Why would you hurt me? I’m just a florist, dude. You would gain nothing, so I think I’m safe. Unless I somehow offend you by being my usual informal self, in which case, my mom would be pretty pissed that the one criminal she couldn’t catch killed her youngest son the moment she retired; so it’s still a win in my books. Now, flowers? Did you kill someone, or are you going to? Give me something to work with here.”
“...going to. I want to send a message first, though.”
“Great! I have some poisonous flowers, those should do the trick. Marigolds, for example, symbolise grief, despair and mourning… oh! Morning glory, it means ‘death’! You need some of those in your bouquet too. Hmmm… Oh, bloodroot’s pretty deadly as well, and men used to make paint out of it to cover themselves with when they were courting someone, which could be pretty sick, as in a ‘you’re courting death by messing with me’ kind of way…”
Along the way, Morgan kind of forgets the whole purpose of Alex’s visit for a while, enjoying walking around his store as he points at his precious, poisonous babies and explains their meanings and uses out loud. The mafia boss, surprisingly, doesn’t seem particularly impatient, as he follows two steps behind, silent except from the few questions he asks (that end up encouraging Morgan to speak even more). He’s a captive audience of one, and he seems genuinely interested in what Morgan has to say, which is unbearably attractive.
(And that… might be a problem. Morgan doesn’t need more fuel for his dreams about the dangerous criminal)
In the end, after a whole hour of just talking his heart out about his plants, he finally sends Alex on his way with the perfect threat-bouquet, pretty and deadly (like the man buying it). As he’s processing the purchase, he gathers courage he didn’t know he possessed, and carefully plucks a purple larkspur bloom from the pot near the register. Slowly, oh so slowly, taking care that his movements are not threatening in any way, he reaches up and places the flower behind the criminal’s ear.
He doesn’t know who is more shocked by his daring, Alex or himself.
“That one is… on the house.”
Unblinking, those beautiful golden eyes not leaving Morgan’s simple brown ones, the dangerous man raises a careful finger to softly touch a petal, caught between his ear and dark hair. The contrast with the black strands and pearly white skin is striking against the purple.
“What does this one mean?” he asks, almost breathily. Not at all like someone who bribes and blackmails the president on a weekly basis.
High on nerves and adrenaline, Morgan lowers his gaze as he hands out the bouquet, so he can look back at Alex from under his lashes.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Alex comes to the realization that he needs a new desk. The deep, rich mahogany, with it’s warm and earthy colors, makes him think about pretty eyes and soft looking hair, and he can’t even sign up a single paper without his mind wandering and then stuttering like the bumbling high schooler he never was.
But, as he asks Jeremy to place the order and proceeds to drop a match over the wood, watching it burn in silence, he knows he needs to get a grip on himself. If he keeps destroying things that remind him of the cute florist ( Morgan , his mind demands with the same hiss-like tone he uses when threatening his worst foes, call him by his name ), he’ll soon be without an office at all. The floor to ceiling windows reflecting the sun shining over the city evoke the memory of crystalline laughter, of a short, slim man leaning against glass as he waves him goodbye. The plush chair by the bookcase reminded him of the soft sofa they sat at, together, a few weeks ago, when he arrived too soon at the store and Morgan had to wait for a delivery to arrive before helping him pick his bouquet for the day. The polished white linoleum of the hallway leading to his office, so strikingly boring when compared to lightly worn green tiles.
The only thing safe was, ironically, the withering purple bloom, that he’d tried his best to keep alive for over two months now, even hiring expert botanists to make it so (under threat of death), but that was now on it’s last stretch.
He never did research on its meaning, though, too afraid of what it could possibly mean (or maybe too scared to hope).
Alex sighed, stepping aside to let the clean up crew crowd around his burning desk to put the fire out and exchange the ruined furniture with shiny new one (in a different color, of course). As he did, he walked closer to Jeremy, whose face, like usual, betrayed absolutely nothing.
“Jeremy.”
“Sir.”
“...I feel weird.”
“Should I call a physician, Sir?”
“Not that kind of weird.”
“...”
“...”
“...So a trip to Disaster Flowers is in order, then?”
“How dare you presume something like that!”
“Is that a no, Sir?”
“...Have the chef prepare something to go, and make sure it’s ready in ten minutes or less. I bet Morgan hasn’t eaten yet.”
It’s hard to tell with someone so damnably poker faced, but he’s fairly sure his secretary is smug. He should kill him.
… but then he’d have to go through the whole embarrassing ordeal of being known again with someone new.
Fuck. Maybe he should ask Morgan for his opinion? Last time, he killed the suspicious minion like he suggested, and it turned out he was a mole after all, so that was a crisis averted if he ever saw one. Morgan was so smart sometimes. Then he’d do something like drink conditioner on a dare and scare Alex half to death when he found him groaning into the ground, and make him wonder once again just how many times he was dropped as a baby. God he was so adorable.
“Oh… Uhm, sir?”
He had such a nice laugh, and he just got Alex’s sense of humor so well, not even flinching at his dark jokes or disembowelment puns. He even had some of those, himself! Like the time he closed the shop mid morning just so they could have breakfast together, and said ‘ They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Well, not if it's poisoned. Then the antidote becomes the most important’ as they left, dragging a surprised laugh out of Alex despite the awful morning he’d been having so far.
“Boss?”
And he was just the right level of unhinged yet caring that Alex had never known he craved in his life. For instance, when they stumbled across a cop he hated and told as much to Morgan, and he said ‘ I bet she can make you smile if she tries hard enough’ , and proved himself right as he pushed her over the banister overlooking a dirty lake, making Alex grin for the rest of the day.
“Mr Créateur…"
Oh god, or the time a girl kept hitting on Alex at the store, and he couldn’t just get rid of her because of the cops off duty who were browsing some bonsai trees on the other side of the shop. And then Morgan noticed Alex’s discomfort, smiled at the lady and gifted her with a beautiful flower crown. Mountain laurel, he’d noticed with a grin, a little knowledgeable about flowers at that point in their friendship. She couldn’t get through two more pick up lines, before she was throwing up all over the cops. It was glorious.
“Alexander!”
He stopped, ripped off his daydreams by Jeremy’s annoying voice. He wanted to punish the man (he knew damn well that was not his name, and how he hated to be called that), but the urge in his voice stalled his hand.
“What?”
“The men you stationed at the flower shop sent an S.O.S. Someone attacked. I can’t get back in contact with them, though, which probably means…”
Alex didn’t stay to hear the rest of the sentence. For the first time in his life, the stairs were preferable to the elevator (too slow to arrive), and he ran faster than he ever did down flight after flight, damning his own greed at making his building as tall as he did.
He’d stationed a rotation of guards close to the flower shop once he admitted to himself that his feelings for Morgan were there to stay, and that even if most people wouldn’t suspect the full scope of them, it was still easily visible how much he cared for him. And as a man renowned for his power and lack of weaknesses, his friendship with a random civilian would prove far too tempting for anyone aiming for his downfall.
For someone so powerful, so widely feared and respected, time was rarely relative in a way that didn’t favor him. Things took as long or as little to happen as he wanted them to, as he wasn’t afraid to maim or kill to make them so. And whatever little he had no control over, he rarely cared for. Which is to say, he never truly understood when people complained about a minute seeming like an hour, a second lasting as long as a day, until he had to run all three blocks separating his building from the flower shop. He could vaguely hear Jeremy following behind, listen to his growly voice as he barked orders into his phone, probably summoning his heavy hitters to escort them to their destination to take care of whoever was dumb enough to go after the one person he cared for, but it sounded like he was underwater. Felt like that too, like his limbs were too light but he had no momentum, no way to reach where he wanted to be fast enough.
He desperately needed to know that Morgan was okay. Or, alternatively, that he had enough bullets so he could put one for every single mahogany-colored strand of hair of his that was out of place into the attackers.
The flower shop finally came into sight, the stained shards of the broken windows shining under the lamp post just by the side of the entrance. Whoever it was, had obviously bought out the cops who usually patrolled these streets, because there was no way they wouldn’t have heard the glass breaking.
The night was deathly quiet. Usually, both deadly and quiet were words he appreciated. But in relation to Morgan, they only made him sick to the stomach. He didn’t slow down in his mad dash for the door, but it made his hand tremble (for the first time since he was twelve, way over his head as he decided to become the cruelest mafia boss in the city, then the country, then the world-) as he pushed it open. Heart in his throat, beating so widely it felt like being punched from the inside-
“Oh, Alex! Hi! I was waiting for you.”
Morgan. Beautiful mahogany hair, falling in a curly mess over his forehead. Almond-like eyes, crinked at the corners from his wide smile. Lightly tanned face-
Splattered with blood. Only, he noticed after a heart-stopping second, it wasn’t his .
“Oh, yes, these dudes”, he kept going, acting like Alex wasn’t a breath away from a nervous breakdown. For emphasis, he softly patted the head of the dude he was sitting over. Who was unconscious, arm bent at an impossible angle (broken, he thought distantly as he noted the crowbar on the ground nearby) as he laid face down on the floor. The second attacker, half a meter to the left, was groaning into what looked like a puddle of his own vomit, a vial of what Alex knew to be Morgan’s poisonous flower’s essential oils broken a few inches from his face, arms tied behind his back and legs spasming. His own men, who had apparently taken down the third and final attacker, judging by the bullet wounds on said man’s leg, were either dead or unconscious, laying against the far wall near the register.
Morgan himself looked unscathed, beyond some scratches here and there and a probably twisted wrist that he held close to his chest.
“They said something about you and a weak spot? I don’t know, dude, I saw guns and panicked. Those two guys, that I assume work for you, tried to fight them off at first, and I took that chance to grab my emergency kit.”
Alex, too stunned for words, made a sound that was probably closer to what a whale could do than a human thing.
“Ah, my emergency kit? I meant the poisons and crowbar, dude. I had a face mask, so I smashed my strongest paralyzer on the ground over there- yeah, I would step away if I were you, though the fumes are probably dispersed enough it's not dangerous anymore- and went to town on them with my crowbar while they recovered. Though that one over there had a very strong reaction and he was down and puking his guts out before I even finished with this one, so I only hitted him a little to keep him down while I waited for you.”
Morgan was rambling. It was as adorable as ever, but Alex, for the first time since they met all those months ago, couldn’t really focus on that. His body was battling both the anxiety and adrenaline still running wild through his veins, and contending with the growing, unparalleled attraction that was threatening to make him drop to his knees in front of Morgan and just beg for his hand in marriage. It was a very weird, very numbing wave of emotions, and he could absolutely not process any of this while still worried over Morgan’s wrist.
As always, dependable Jeremy stepped up when he was needed the most, reminding him just why he kept the annoying bastard in his employment.
“Sir, the hitmen are on their way to… clean up, and I have the actual clean up crew on hold to take care of the place once they are done. The car is going to be here any second now, and the driver knows to not care about any traffic law in order to get you and Mr Contenu to the hospital as soon as possible. The medical staff also know to expect your arrival, and they’ll be waiting by the door to escort Mr Contenu to whatever examination he needs to get done. Please go and rest assured, I’ll take care of matters here.”
God, Jeremy was the best damn secretary ever.
Still shaking a little, he helped Morgan up (from where he was sitting, on the back of the hitman he took down like nothing, god, that was so fucking hot) and half supported half carried him to the waiting vehicle.
“Thanks Jeremy!” yelled the shorter man when they passed him on their way to the door. Jeremy merely waved him off, already focused on his phone again, probably busy with damage control.
He’ll give Jeremy a raise, he thinks. After making sure Morgan is safe. And convincing his crush friend that the empty office building across the street from Alex’s own edifice was actually a great place to move his flower shop to. Because he just knows that, after tonight, he’ll develop the strongest case of separation anxiety and will need easy, quick access to him at all times if he ever wants to be competent at work again.
He’ll even redecorate his own office, walls full of bleeding heart’s blooms, and risk speaking up about his feelings, if that’s what it takes to keep Morgan by his side. Forever.
But for now, he has a revenge to plan, and maybe his favorite, devious florist with a knack for poison will be willing to help- it’ll be a fun, bonding activity. Or, if he gathers enough courage to ask… maybe a nice date idea.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Once again, Jeremy is way too tired and not being paid nearly enough for this.
But, when he gets home after dealing with the flower shop break in (henchmen tortured until they confessed who sent them, flowers moved to a safe warehouse until they could be relocated in the empty office bulding Mr Createur had bought to keep Mr Contenu closer, corrupt policemen removed from their part of the city, reporters bribed to just ignore the situation and leave Mr Contenu alone…), he knows he has one more task to attend to, before he can finally go to sleep.
Tired but reluctantly happy, he lets himself fall into his overpriced couch, wine glass in one hand, phone in the other as he opens a new google tab and looks into the best jewelry shops of the country. If they are not good enough, he’ll start searching for worldwide ones.
He wants to find out which one makes the best engagement rings as soon as possible. The Secretary has to anticipate his boss’ needs, after all.
#S&D tier#S Tier/Alex#D Tier/Morgan#Alex/Morgan#S tier/D tier#my writing#the characters are from lighthouseraider's tiktok series#where there's a d tier villain who's besties with an s tier one#the content creator ships them but doesn't want to make them canon so the platonic enjoyers can still like the content#so he bribes the fic writers and fanartist to make ship-y content for them#it works wonderfully#mafia au#flower shop au
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𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.
the one where Jason is a jealous dumbass, that’s it - that’s the plot.
WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice.
Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her.
Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her.
I may add the smut scene later on, who knows? Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*
If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here.
Thank you and enjoy :)
White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of poison. He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind. He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.
Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.
Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down; therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N).
His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N) set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared and his pupils were blown and dilated as he snarled like an out of control beast.
"I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason, as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.
"I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.
"Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”
"Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"
"You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant son of a bitch never listens!
"You love him more than you do me."
Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.
"Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet.
"C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-"
"You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him. He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak. She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.
"Jason, baby-"
His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.
"Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."
(Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.
A week passes.
Another week following behind that.
(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.
He really fucked things up, didn't he?
Jason wasn't huge on showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.
All three traits made him who he was. People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody. Expect.... of course, (Y/N).
As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either. Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.
But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.
By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.
Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.
All he got was her voicemail.
"This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"
Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry.
He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.
(Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.
"Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts. "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.
Listen, I'm sorry for everything, (Y/N). I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....
I'll talk here, hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.
But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay?
I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay?
Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....
But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."
With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.
Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it.
He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...
Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.
Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.
(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed.
In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail. She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.
Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new.
They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other.
And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that. Jason was still a huge dumbass, however.
And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.
She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a huge fucking idiot.
Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words.
He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.
He was met with.... well, not a burglar neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.
"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago.
"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken. "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"
"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight.
(Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway. He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing a bandage won't fix, right?"
"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.
"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."
He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. You're a dumbass."
Oh.
It was bad.
He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life.
"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued. "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.”
“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.
“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you."
Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron. "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions and-"
"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred.
"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.
"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?"
"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling."
"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear."
"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"
(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom.
"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..."
#heathers#jason dean x reader#jason dean x yn#jason dean fanfics#jason dean x femreader#jason dean one shot#jason dean imagines#christian slater#christian slater x reader#christian slater x yn#my works#cierra's stories
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How you fall in love (Kol Mikaelson imagine)
Request from @jazziwritesthings : Could you write an imagine for Kol, where he wants to ask the reader to marry him?
Words: 2603
A/N: It kinda took a different turn from what I had originally planned, and I definitely had teary eyes writing this. Maybe I’ll do a 2nd part, I dunno yet - Enjoy
The day had stated beautifully. Kol had decided to take Y/N on a date to one of her favorite place; the bayou. He never understood her attraction for that place but had put his judgement aside to make this day perfect. He had been planning this for the last two months, with the help of his siblings. He was excited, ecstatic even just to think about what would be happening, but also a little stressed if he dared to admit it. Mikaelson’s proposal mission, as Elijah had put it, was on.
« Are you sure this is what you want to do today ? » Y/N asked Kol as she slammed the car door. « We could’ve just stayed at the compound and enjoy a lazy afternoon »
They had just reach the border to enter the bayou.
« Love, for the last time, we are hiking »
« You don’t like to hike, Kol »
« But you do »
She smirked.
« So after all this time I’ve spent trying to convince you to come with me you chose today »
« Yes. »
« Why ? »
« What do you mean why ? »
He was trying his best not to look at her. She could read him like an open book and he was sure she didn’t need magic powers to know what he was thinking about.
« You are up to no good, Mr.Mikaelson »
« I don’t know what you are talking about, love »
« Sure you don’t » She rolled her eyes.
He laughed and took her hand in his, dragging her into the woods. It was a short road to a clearing Hayley had mentioned to him. Earlier that day, the woman had come to set a picnic basket for them. Her, Hope and Freya had had fun decorating the place with lights, balloons, flowers and candles. They had outdone themselves, it look like a scene from a fairytale.
Kol was walking a little bit too fast for Y/N’s liking. He seemed animated by an exhilaration she couldn’t understand. Usually, he would let her hike on her own, or with her werewolves friends, but would never come. He had told her on multiples occasions he didn’t like the atmosphere around that place, nor the company of a species he couldn’t stand. She had respected his boundaries and had never asked again, until two days ago when he came with an idea that both confused and surprised her; a hike in the bayou.
« We’re almost there » Kol told her.
« Where is there ? »
« I can’t tell you »
« See, I knew you were hiding something! » She proclaimed.
He laughed, shaking his head.
He turned around, a snarky remark on the tip of his lips, when he noticed Y/N had stopped moving. She stood still, her back as straight as a rod. He could almost feel the tension emanating out of her.
« What is it ? » He instantly worried.
« We’re not alone » She whispered.
That’s when he heard footsteps, very close from where they were. The sound of crushing leafs on the ground was loud enough to be discernible by his vampire ears. He glanced at Y/N, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As soon as he saw a silhouette standing at the edge of the wood, he instinctively pushed Y/N behind him, straightening up in a defensive stance.
« Who’s there ? » He yelled.
The stranger took a couple of steps toward them, revealing an impressive form. There was no doubt this man was very much in shape. Y/N took a double take at the size of his biceps and decided she did not want to piss off this werewolf, whomever he may have been.
« That’s a question I should be asking you » The man answered. « You’re on my territory »
« We’re just hiking! » Y/N quickly responded, hoping to appease the tension forming.
She knew about Kol’s temper, especially when it came to wolves. This could go terribly wrong if she did not diffuse it from the start.
« On whose authorization ? » He continued, his chest puffing with pride.
Kol rolled his eyes.
« Look, mate, this land belongs to the Crescent wolf pack, who happens to be ruled by Hayley Marshall, and you’re not one of them »
The man visibly tightened his jaw, starting to get angry. He seemed to sniff the air for a moment and Y/N glanced at his hands balled into fists.
« A Mikaelson » He spitted, recognizing Kol’s sent.
« And you’re not a werewolf » The vampire stated.
Y/N looked at him, surprised, then back at the man who was smirking. The old vampire, fed up with his attitude, had folded his arms.
« I’m a little more than that » He viciously grinned.
Kol raised an eyebrow then suddenly huffed and throw his hands in the air.
« Of course we had to run into one of Niklaus experiment »
His nonchalant behavior surprised Y/N who did not dare to talk anymore, scared she might say something that would throw off the stranger. Kol seemed to fulfill that task without her help beautifully.
« What experiment ? » She whispered to him.
« He’s a hybrid » He told her.
« A hybrid with a message for your brother »
« Of course … » Kol grumped in annoyance.
With a movement of the hand, he pushed Y/N out of the way, anticipating the hybrid’s attack who launched himself at the vampire. His fist soon connected with Kol’s face, who landed on the ground in a matter of seconds. Bringing a hand to wipe the blood on his jaw, he looked at the molten-red color, before deciding he was definitely infuriated. The characteristics dark veins started to appear on his flawless skin and his sharp fangs stretched out of his teeth.
Y/N watched him lunged at the man at a fast speed, smashing him in the guts then dismantled his shoulder before shoving him on the ground. The hybrid let out a grunt of pain and got back up, putting his joint into place like it was nothing. He looked positively pissed off.
Instead of assaulting the Mikaelson, this time around he decided to go for Y/N. None of the lovers were fast enough to predict the action as Kol watched in utter terror the man’s hand plug inside her chest. There was no hesitation in his move, no doubt in what he was about to do.
« No, don’t! » Kol shouted.
This was his worst nightmare. After everything he had been through, all the centuries of torture, quarrels in his family and betrayals, this couldn’t be the end of the short happiness he had lived since he’d known her.
With a wicked smirk, the man tightened his hold on the woman’s heart, ready to rip it out. Kol clenched his jaw, letting his anger consume him, turning into the psychotic manic anyone knew him to be not so long ago.
He grabbed a log of wood, tearing it apart and twisted it in his hand in just a fraction of second, ready to use his newfound weapon. Enraged, he impaled the man, perforating his lungs, making him shout in pain and lose his grip on Y/N.
His eyes focused on his prey, with the sole determination of killing him, he took the weapon out, turned the man around in a swift movement, then plugged it back in his chest. Before his opponent even had the chance to react, he sank his fangs in his throat, making him scream in agony. With an animalistic growl he threw his fist inside the hybrid’s ribcage then tore off his heart.
The dead man falling at his feet, he looked at the useless organ in his hand, satisfied, before letting it fall on the ground with a thud next to the body.
« Kol … » He heard a voice call behind him.
His back stiffened, realizing she was still here and had seen that part of him, the coldhearted ripper. What was supposed to be the best day of their life had taken a dark turn, reinforcing his convicting that the Mikealson’s were indeed cursed and incapable of happiness.
« Kol! » She called again.
Again, he did not answer. He heard her take a step toward him and turned his bloodied face to look at her.
« Are you alright ? » He whispered.
« Yes » She answered, looking him up and down. « Are you ? »
He pursed his lips.
« Let’s go » He simply said in a cold tone she was sure she didn’t like.
Before she could even answer, he started walking ahead of her, furious. She did her best to keep up with him but the man was taller and stronger. She rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his behavior. Why was he mad at her after she was almost torn apart by a wolf ?
« Kol, wait up ! » She shouted, almost running to catch up to him.
He huffed but didn’t slow down. Fed up by his attitude she stopped on the track, refusing to take one more step before he explained himself.
« What the hell is wrong with you ?! »
« Nothing! » He yelled.
« Obviously » She answered back with irony.
Angry for a reason she couldn’t understand, he turned back and walked to her.
« Why can’t we just have one day, ONE day, without being chased by Niklaus fucking enemies! »
She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at his tantrum.
« It that was this is about ? Klaus ? »
« What ? No! Of course not! »
« Kol, you’re not making any sense right now »
He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair in frustration.
« Why are you so mad ? » She asked softly, hoping to appease him a little.
« Because of this! » He vehemently shouted, pointing at the werewolf not far from where they were. « This wasn’t suppose to be a near death experience! »
« Then what was it supposed to be ?! »
« A proposal! »
« … what ? »
He pursed his lips.
« I had everything planned, down to the last detail » He revealed. « I wanted it to be perfect. We were supposed to come here and take a walk through the woods just because you like them so fucking much. There was a picnic ready for us on that hill and the girls put so much effort to decorate it for you »
He went on and on sounding extremely disappointed, not even noticing Y/N was startled by the information he didn’t realize he had let out.
« …and that werewolf wasn’t part of my plan, because who in their right mind would ask someone to marry them in the middle of a bloody fight ? But you know what, maybe Elijah was right, maybe this family is not meant to be happy»
« You were going to propose ? » She whispered, astonished.
He looked back at her, finally realizing what he had just said. Cursing himself, he closed his eyes, not wanting her to see how affected he was by all this.
« I wasn’t supposed to say that » He muttered.
They stared at each other, one of them dumbfounded, the other heartbroken by a fate he thought he family chose for him when they were cursed centuries ago.
He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know where to start. And before one of them could speak one word, it started to rain. They did not move, still facing one another, still trying to read invisible words, understand imperceptible feelings, as the water started to soak them up.
He knew he didn’t need to say anything when he saw a tear roll down her cheek.
« What changed ? » She simply asked, her hair and clothes wet.
« Everything »
« But you love me »
« I do »
« Doesn’t that count for anything ? »
« Not when you’re a Mikaelson »
His heart broke at the sight of her tears.
« Kol, please … »
« There will be others. There’s always others »
« We’ll fight them »
He shook his head.
« Have you seen what I did back there ? »
She didn’t answer, remembering the violence of that man’s death.
« I don’t want you to witness any of that » He confessed, his voice shaking with emotion. « I don’t want you to know that man because that’s not who I am anymore »
« What are you saying ? » She asked in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.
« I’m saying there are … things in this life I don’t want to give up, things I wish I could keep with me for the rest of my life, but I can’t »
The realization of what he was implying almost knocked her out. Before this sudden confession, rain used to bring her peace. There was a serenity, a sense of peace with each droplets that she could no longer feel in that moment.
« I’m saying I love you, Y/N » He whispered, his hand gently stroking her cheek. « and I’ll love you until I die, and if there’s life after that, I’ll love you then. »
She slapped his hand away, the tears now running freely on her face.
« You can’t do that, Kol, I won’t allow you to destroy what we have because of some made up curse you think the world has brought upon your family »
He didn’t seem to listen to her and instead took her head between his hands, forcing her to look back at him
« You have to know I did my best to keep you away from this madness » He confessed, his eyes watering. « But this life, this … violence is not what I want for you »
« You don’t get to decide for me »
« Y/N… »
« No! You think I don’t know what this is Kol ! I know that look ! I’ve seen it before ! I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t let you! »
« I have no other choice »
« You’re a coward, Kol Mikaelson! » She yelled, pushing him back with all the force she could muster, making him fall.
She could barely breathe and her body had started to shake. From the cold or the emotions, she didn’t know.
« This » She said, crying out and pointing at Kol and herself. « This is worth fighting for and you know it but you’re taking the easy way out, you’re giving up! »
« I’m giving you a chance to live, Y/N ! » He shouted back, throwing up his hands in frustration. « Can’t you see that ?! »
« All I see is you, breaking my heart »
This time the tears ran down his eyes.
« Why ? » Was all she had the strength to say anymore.
« In our worlds, with our enemies, a bond as strong as what we have will be considered a threat and be used against us, love » He started to explain.
Taking her hands in his, he kissed them before kissing her forehead.
« You are an echo, Y/N, my anchor in a brutal world, with the power to tear down walls I have built so high and deep. So though i need you, want you, love you … I most likely have to walk away »
A sob escaped her mouth, instantly making him regret everything he was saying and doing and he cursed himself a thousand deaths for the pain he was causing.
« I hate you » She murmured.
« No, you don’t. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me »
Suddenly, the wind seemed too cold and standing in the rain, Y/N never felt so vulnerable and powerless. This was selfish and beneath anything he had ever done. The growing pain was already unbearable as she stared back at him. She was sure his last words would play over and over again in her head. She knew she’d never be able to stop loving him, even with a broken heart. Every single part he was stealing of her, he was making it impossible for her to put it back together. She would remain empty without him, an unfinished puzzle with forever missing pieces.
#kol mikaelson#kol mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson fanfiction#kol mikaelson imagines#the originals#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikealson x reader#elijah mikaelson#elijah mikealson x reader#hayley marshall
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Kinktober - Day Nine
Prompt: Breathplay + Maid Dress
Pairing: Epel/Reader (Twisted Wonderland)
TW: Dub-Con, AFAB!Reader, Third-Year Epel, Degradation, Choking, Slight Feminization, Disassociation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Rough Sex.
You really should’ve stopped after he put on the dress.
It was pooling around your waist, now, flowing but forgotten, rustling and creasing with every thrust of Epel’s hips, every slap of skin against skin, every harsh glare and stifled curse and vile name directed towards you. It was still beautiful, even if you would’ve preferred to have a better view. It was such a brilliant shade of black, stunning against his pale skin, silken on the inside and velvet on the outside, just like the ribbons running over his heaving chest, binding the loose white fabric underneath into place and fading into the sleeves as they ruffled over his shoulders. You assumed it’d been cute, before he put it on, something innocent and just out of character enough to get both of you off. You assumed it’d be fun, if nothing else, but you were beginning to have second thoughts.
In your defense, Epel never said he was against it. You’d been with him long enough to know about his insecurities, at that point, but he was so vocal when something bothered him, and he’d been so dismissive of this kind of thing in the past, you just thought he’d finally warmed up to the idea when he sighed and asked if it’d get you to stop biting at his heels. Still, that wasn’t an excuse. You’d been distracted, and you hadn’t bothered to notice the way he grit his teeth as you played with the strings of his corset, how his fists clenched at his sides as you tied and retied his apron into place, when you decided you could make a more befitting bow. The stockings had just been a step too far, the thing to push Epel over the edge. You’d managed to nag and tease him into one, cream-colored and skin-tight and lovely, but its twin laid discarded somewhere else, beyond the small portion of his bed you’d been confined to.
You’d never been so thankful Epel was a Dorm Head. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stand it if anyone, much less a roommate, walked in on a scene like this.
“You’re such a bitch.” His voice brought you out of your thoughts and back to reality, but reality was still hazy, all dark colors and mixing hues and the barest hints of moonlight forcing its way through oppressive, heavy curtains, the ones you’d pulled closed upon Epel’s request. The venom in his tone was clear, though, as crystalline and as jagged as the feeling of his nails digging into your wrists where he held them above your head, as the sharp, sudden spikes of pleasure that shot through your system whenever you began to think you might’ve finally, finally passed out. You could only hope you would, eventually. It would’ve been a kindness.
Epel had never been very good at taking the lead, but things tended to get… messy, when he did. It was an uncalculated approach, mismeasured and mishandled to the point of making the act more perverse than it had to be. It was just luck that his pelvis caught your clit whenever he bottomed out, that with your legs wrapped around his waist and the edge of his flared skirt trapped between his teeth, he just so happened to hit the spot inside of you that you’d never be able to ignore. He wasn’t trying to make you feel good, that was obvious. If anything, he was being harsher than he had to be.
You wanted to block it out. You wanted to block him out, but you doubted he’d be merciful enough to let you, tonight.
“Not even smart enough to keep your damn eyes on me,” He growled, the low reverberation hitting you a moment before the sharp crack did, your head snapping to your side as your cheek burnt, threatening to swell and bruise before the sun was up. A pitchy, whiny noise found its way through your parted lips, something between a moan and a sob, but even that was cut off as Epel’s hands found your neck, eager and tight, like he’d been waiting to all day, or, since you raided Pomefiore’s storage closets, at least. Your hands were free, now, but it was all you could do to claw at his forearms, to kick your heels into his back, to struggle so weakly and so uselessly, Epel’s stern frown broke into a smirk, as he went on.
“This is what you wanted, right?” He spat, his pace picking up, his cock driving into you with a renewed vengeance. With sense of spite that only came when he knew it’d be followed by an immediate reward, one in the form of your choked whimpers and pained expression, in this case. “You wanted your cute, timid little boyfriend to sit back and let you play with his dick. You wanted me to roll my eyes and pout and beg for you to turn me into a livin’, breathin’ fuck-doll.”
“I-I didn’t--” You tried to deny it, you wanted to deny it. It wasn’t true. Epel was your boyfriend, your closest companion, the man you trusted more than anyone else in the world. You loved him, and you trusted him, and you wanted to be able to do something new for the sake of doing something new. It wasn’t your fault he was too insecure to see that. It wasn’t your fault he was too fucking paranoid to wear a dress without throwing a temper tantrum. “Please.” You were whispering, you couldn’t do anything else. His grip was too tight, too little air was getting to your lungs. Your windpipe felt like it might cave in on itself, if he put his weight behind his vice-grip. “I thought it would be… It was supposed to be fun--”
“Fun for you, maybe.” The sentiment was punctuated by a sharp piston of his hips, his calloused palms pressing into your neck as he watched you struggled not to cry out. It still felt good. It shouldn’t have, but it did, and he knew that. Epel knew it did, and that was the worst part. To him, it still looked like you wanted this, and you doubted he’d ever be convinced you didn’t. “Such a liar. Goin’ on about your golden intentions, like you're not into this. Like you ain’t ready to cum all over my cock like a fuckin’ pervert.”
You opened your mouth, but you were the one to cut yourself off, this time, the one to wince and curl up and hurt until it was all you could do to fall into the mattress and shut up. You couldn’t stand to look at his face, anymore, your eyes rising to the lacey collar around his neck, a cheap bell failing to ring whenever his body jerked forward and forced yours further into the mattress. Your mind was fuzzy, your consciousness faded to the point of numbness, but you could remember fiddling with the clasp, kissing Epel’s cheek when it finally fell into place. You could remember wanting this. You could remember wanting him, even if this wasn’t how you’d pictured it.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you were a pervert.
Maybe this was your fault.
You didn’t think you’d really be able to live with yourself, if you accepted it was his.
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere imagines#yandere scenario#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere prompt#kinktober#kinktober 2020#yandere kinktober#twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland imagines#yandere twst#twst imagines#twst x reader#twst#twst epel#epel felmier#yandere epel#yandere epel felmier#epel x reader#epel felmier x reader#yandere fantasy#yandere fanfiction#yanderecore#yancore
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Ownership || SG
I wanna hold you
Never be lonely with me by your side {x}
“Quite the specimen, your bodyguard.”, mused Percy with a soft laugh as he obnoxiously draped on Brainstorm’s shoulders. An eyebrow raised slightly at the scientist’s tightly clenched fists.
“I. Am. Aware.”
“Now, what’s crawled up your holes and died, precious?”
“MUST YOU BE SO LEWD AND DISGUSTING.”
“You know the answer, stop avoiding my question.”
Brainstorm grumbled angrily to himself for a moment before forcibly exhaling to calm himself down, “I gave Whirl some. Time off, to relax. I’ve noticed he’s become a little closed off lately- can’t afford to have him anything BUT focused.”
“Mhm.”
“And he. That. UGH!”
“Use your words dear.”
“That Wrecker is being such a. He’s. He’s just being a WRECKER!”
“Mhm....”
“And I HATE IT.”
“Love you haven’t made a lick of sense yet, please stop being dramatic for five damn minutes.”
Brainstorm snarled like a caged animal, slamming his hands on the console desk and making the screen flicker dangerously. His gloves hissed as his fingers curled like he tried to claw the plasteel before those hands wet back to tangling in thick dark waves of hair.
“...He came home last night REEKING of booze and cigar smoke with his shirt undone, his patch in his pocket and. Nngh. Hmph.”
“....And?”
“....He had bitemarks on his neck. And his chest.”
“....So what exactly is the problem?”
“I GAVE HIM TIME TO RELAX NOT GO BE A RATHOUND IN FUCKING HEAT!”
“...Considering what I know of Whirl, it’d be more of a rut, but precious... I still fail to see a problem? You own his contract, not his body.”
Brainstorm nearly screamed- his face dark in his rage as he stood up abruptly from his seat and shoved Percy harshly away. He began to pace, and Percy sighed as he tapped the side of the console screen to pull up lab controls as swearing grew in volume and intensity and the sniper scientist activated the door locks before sitting down out of throwing range.
And just in time- a chair flew by and smashed into the wall and clattered into pieces onto the floor.
“HE COULD HAVE HIS PICK AND HE GOES AFTER BARHOPPING FLOOZIES AND BASTARDS AND DEMEANS HIMSELF LIKE SOME COMMON HENCHMAN!”
“Mhm, get it out darling.”, sighed Percy, patting over pockets until he found a nail file and beginning to tend to ragged edges of nails.
“AND TO COME HOME IN SUCH A DISGUSTING STATE, I CANNOT BELIEVE- HE’S LUCKY I HAVE SUCH IMPECCABLE SELF FUCKING CONTROL-”
The sound of a table being flipped hard enough to crack against the floor.
“Yes, yes- something something double standards are okay if I do it something something...”
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME YOU FUCKING CONCUBINE OF MORTILUS-”
“You heard me darling-”, sighed Percy as he inspected his nails, “Here you are throwing multiple tantrums because Whirl went out and engaged in a few hookups! Do you know how childish you sound, whining about him have a few one night stands when YOU make him stand outside the door when you have them?”
Brainstorm opened his mouth to snap angrily before he froze- Percy stalling the warmonger with a glare that was... eerily frigid, emotionless, cruel.
“Do YOU know how disgusting YOU are, with how you treat him? Do you think I and Ratchet and others haven’t SEEN IT? You drink yourself into a bout of horny stupidity, either rail or get railed by some gun lobbyist or whatever... You make Whirl STAND OUTSIDE THE DOOR, FOR HOURS, LISTENING- and then have the audacity to drunkenly hit on him until his face looks like a stoplight? He may be a freewheeling agent of dick but YOU good sir are a whore on par with a well-financed preacher.”
Brainstorm’s temper had died down- his blood pressure brightness replaced with an embarrassed blush that reached his ears. He seemed to sigh his whole soul out, dropping into one of the chairs he hadn’t destroyed and looking everywhere but Percy.
“He... never mentioned that I did that.”
“Would you have believed him? Does he have a reason to think you would? After all- just a few moments ago you were bitching to high heaven that a man acted like a man. And even then, it was a stupid tantrum- he didn’t bring anyone home, he didn’t get arrested, he CERTAINLY didn’t do anything uncouth... He’s a single man who sought out company, enjoyed said company, and then went home.”
“Well, yes but-”
“Did he break anything? Did he come home blackout? Did he threaten or harm you? Did he go against his contract, his orders?”
“Well, well NO but-”
“Then what, pray tell, is the FUCKING problem?”
“I WAS RIGHT THERE AND HE WENT FOR SOME NAMELESS, FACELESS ONE NIGHT STAND!”
“And why the hell should he go for you, darling? You only want him when you’re too drunk to walk or too spun to think and he at least wants someone to pretend to love him.”
“Oh how the fuck would YOU know what he wants-”
“I’ve been propositioned.”, said Percy flatly, “And, I admit- I accepted a few times.”
The rage returned in a moment, Brainstorm darting from his chair to curl gloved fingers into Percy’s collar and haul him up to slam him against the wall, “YOU DISGUSTING FETID ROTTING EXPERIMENT FROM HELL HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY PROPERTY-”
The crack of Percy’s fist slamming into Brainstorm’s modded jaw was loud- brutal in the way a tornado tearing a tree in half was brutal. Percy landed easily back on his feet, shaking his stinging hand slightly as Brainstorm stretched his mouth carefully and winced from the jolt of pain.
“I may not like the man much- he and I have our differences and our resentments but my GOD man, YOU of all people should know what it’s like to be seen as a god damned OBJECT!”
Brainstorm stood up just in time for Perceptor’s boot to slam into his throat- stealing his breath and making him cough and gag and stumble backwards.
“You sit there and act like he’s furniture- You make him watch as your interest is everywhere and ANYWHERE but him. You call him your property, you call him a THING in more words than you need. Primus fucking sakes, you insufferable tit-”
The disgust on Percy’s face was palpable.
“How fucking dare you berate a man behind his back for tolerating the kind of treatment QUARK is better known to hand out.”
Percy dusted his hands off, staring down at Brainstorm and making the scientist feel three inches tall.
“I put Quark in the medibay for six months for what he did to you. Do not, for a moment, think that because I am your project partner that that means I will not do the same thing to you if necessary. Am I crystal clear, Lab Coordinator Brainstorm.”
“What brought this-ow- this bout of fucking loyalty?! He hates you and you hate him!”
“Correct. But even demons have honor codes.”
Brainstorm sighed, leaning back against the chair he had vacated after he popped his jaw fully back into alignment with a wince, “I just. I. Ugh.”
“You what? You want him to pursue you? Then I suggest you, as I heard Ironhide once say, buck the fuck up and stop being such a little bitch about it.”
“I don’t know HOW!”
Percy crossed his arms, cocking a hip in time with a raised eyebrow and a still disappointed stare.
“I bought his contract- and him, yeah. And I didn’t EXPECT to feel things, but then I DID and I just. How. How do you go after someone you technically purchased like a bag of candy??”
“.... A good first step is changing the parameters of the business relationship-”
“HOW?!”
“The contract you bought out was his contract with the Wreckers, correct?”
“Yeah- he still had a good several years on it and. Well. Just, yeah.”
“Good. You own it- you can void it. Make him a free man. Make him a free man and let him choose where to go and help him get there. If you really care for him- then you’ll care enough to help him be a real person again.”
Percy turned on his heel, disgust still radiating off of him, “I’d figure that would be OBVIOUS to an MTO who had to fight his way into the spotlight.”
Brainstorm flinched, hard- not liking how those words cut deeper than the scalpels that modified him once upon an operating theatre.
“And... while you’re at it, get him something nice. He likes fruity teas- but he hates hot tea. I’ll comm you a teahouse that makes iced brews and sells them by the bottle. Get a case or two and stash it in the refrigeration unit in the quarters you share.”
Percy turned sharply, looking over his shoulder, “And treat him like a god damn person, would you? Fucking disappointing.”
Brainstorm looked anywhere but Percy’s back as the sniper stomped out- in high temper and annoyance. He heard the door hiss as it opened, and then felt his self loathing ramp up when he heard Whirl’s voice.
“What in the hell happened he- Boss? What the shit- Oh god damn it did the camboy of the Trion do this shit to you; I’ll fucking kill him-”
“No, Whirl- No, I... Kind of deserved this minute ass kicking.”, he sighed, feeling the bruises darken and sting. Whirl offered a hand- and Brainstorm took it; thankful that his bodyguard understood that his pride needed a hand up more than a prim carry.
Whirl began dusting off Brainstorm’s coat as he checked him over- ever thorough and the scientist couldn’t help but stare at the dark marks peeking over the collar of Whirl’s shirt.
“....Whirl.”
“Yes, sir?”
“....We need to renegotiate your contract. Tonight, if that works for you.”
“...I haven’t planned anything this evening aside from some light reading, so that should be fine. What exactly are these renegotiations going to entail?”
Brainstorm grit his teeth at that... hesitance in Whirl’s voice. A tone he recognized from his own from years back when he still was so unsure of the world and whether or not he deserved a space in it.”
“... I’m going to void it, Whirl.”, he said quietly, “I am going to void the remaining years left on it, and we will devise a new and more effective plan of action and employment- between two free citizens instead of a scientist and a prisoner who was sold as damaged goods.”
Whirl stopped cold, blinking his eye in... something like surprise.
“...I’ll. I won’t be...”
“You won’t be gunfodder anymore, no. Not a Wrecker, not a criminal, not some... political scapegoat, none of that.”, a sigh, “It’s.. It’s the least I can do.”
“...Boss, what do you mean?”
“While I’ve some things right, I’ve... done more wrong by you than anything. I treated you... like a thing. You were someTHING and not someONE and that is why Percy nearly took me out in two hits.”
“Boss, if this is about my back goin’ out cause you sat on my shoulder-”
“No, well. Kind of. Sort of?”, Brainstorm growled to himself, rubbing his face with a gloved hand, “It’s about... many things.”
“Like what?”
“I was being serious.”, muttered Brainstorm, face beginning to tingle with a blush under the bruising now, “When. When I’d say those things. To you. When i was. Uh. Tipsy.”
“....Oh.”
The way Whirl’s voice shrunk felt like a punch to the solar plexus- He’d heard his bodyguard be many things- cold, calculating, angry, exhausted.... but never... Shy.
“So tonight, we renegotiate. And we start afresh and... try to do things right.”
“...As you say, Boss.”
“...You can. You can call me Brainstorm. When we’re alone like this.”
“...Alright, Brainstorm.”
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They do finish eating soon, but everyone is talking so much they end up staying a while longer. The kids are chatting at Dad about everything they've been up to and turning to their uncles sometimes too, shyly reconnecting, even trying out timid, broken sign language their mother has been trying to teach them for Uncle JJ. Chase has his babies on his lap and his partner at his side, and don't they look like a happy nuclear family? Everyone chats. Stacy chats. Stacy talks to all his brothers like nothing is wrong, and Jackie gets a vindictive sort of joy when JJ is shy of her, or maybe still a little unforgiving of the past. He hunkers down beside Jackie instead of engaging with her. Jackie puts a possessive arm around his baby brother. He feels like his only anchor right now - but even he is talking about leaving.
Which should be a good thing! Jackie knows that. When did he lose the ability to picture him being safe on his own? JJ's kicked his ass in the past, but somehow Jackie still sees everyone hurting him. Maybe he spent so long separated from him, hearing him crying and scratching at the door of his room, that he just got used to thinking his baby brother was alone and in pain. Or maybe he really is just letting his anxiety eat him alive. Maybe he's just seen all of them get beat one too many times.
They go home and Jackie closes himself into his room, listening as his youngest brothers play games and let Chase talk for hours about his kids and everything he envisions for them. Jackie feels a wave of guilt that he's being such a sour grape - but more than that is the humiliation of knowing that out of everyone, he is the only one who does not seem to be moving forward.
When his brothers go to sleep that night all distraction fades from the house. The darkness of his room closes in on him. He sees the little black sound booth where he works and the dying swan girl in her ballet shoes on the stage, separated from her lover forever. He sees the cold concrete basement of the house in Norway, and Marvin sprinting down the beach away from him, leaving Jackie behind, bleeding out on the floor, as his siblings all vanished around him. He watches Max crumple in the graveyard - and he turns his back on him, and goes back to his monster.
Jackie feels something simmering beneath his flesh. He wipes hot tears from his eyes. There is something inside his body that could snap in half like a tongue depressor if he let it. There is something there that could collapse like a burned bedroom in the attic of a house abandoned in the woods. He's everywhere and nowhere. Alone and surrounded by everyone who hates him. By everyone he's killed.
He sits on his bed in the dark.
"How predictable," comes a drawling voice behind him, and Jackie freezes stiff, fists clenching together. "I always knew you would find your way here. Jack's little hero, breaking down like a child... you're pathetic, Red."
"Go away," says Jackie, voice trembling. "You're dead."
"Don't you nightmare about me every night?" asks Anti smugly, circling the bed. There is nothing in the darkness but his eyes, green as venom, and a faint outline. "Don't I still haunt you, even dead? Poor widdle Roser. If only you hadn't been so afraid, maybe you could have killed off my memory instead of letting your little brother do it for you."
"I forced Dark to give Blue his magic back," snarls Jackie. "I burned you down with light when you were out of control in the forest. I am still a warrior."
"You're a little boy," laughs Anti. "Just my little killer. And now, without anybody to direct you, you're nothing at all."
"Shut the fuck up. I'm still their big brother."
"They don't even need you, Red."
"I'm Jackie."
"Some hero. You know that the moment you let yourself feel anything other than anger, you're going to have a tantrum like a toddler."
"Shut the fuck up."
"I used to have to beat you to unconsciousness when you exploded like that. Kicking and screaming and sobbing like a baby for someone to come save you."
"You are dead. Go away."
"I ought to do it again." There's a glimmer in the darkness and Jackie shrinks back on himself as he recognizes old torture devices he had almost forgotten, from when Anti was first breaking him in. "See you writhing and chewing your fingers for comfort again."
"You leave me alone," says Jackie, rocking himself and closing his eyes. "I'm going to wake up now. I'm going to wake up."
"Come on, Jackie. Why don't you admit you're just an out-of-control baby with temper problems and too much strength for him to hold back? No wonder everyone is giving up on you."
"I'm going to wake up. I'm going to wake up!"
"Oh, no, darling. This isn't a nightmare. You're mine now, Bloodred."
Anti is on top of him and the sharp sting of a whip comes down directly on Jackie's face, making him scream aloud, blood flooding down his face. He's chained to a bed, tied up in barbed wire, wailing as it cuts into him. In the corner, Dapper is tied up by the throat, slumped against the wall, unable to do anything but watch with dead eyes. Jackie howls for him even though he knows he can't help. Anti crushes Jackie's nose with the heel of his boot and whips him again.
Anti's yelling about something he doesn't remember, some failure of his mixed with Red being loud, Red being annoying, Red being intolerable. His little brother is sick in the corner. Why can't he save him? Why can't he get up? He's stuck under Anti's feet as the blows come down. If he just holds still, maybe he can avoid something worse than getting whipped. Why won't anybody come help him? What did he do? Anti turns to Dapper and Red screams for his attention, kicking at him to re-ignite his fury, to turn him away from his brother. And as the leather comes down on him again, Jackie recognizes something he no longer has - the comfort of being needed, desperately, by the whole rest of his family. The single relief for his heart in those times: the chance to protect them. The lone joy of being able to be a hero to them.
"I'll beat you to death and make him bring you back again!" screams Anti, throwing aside the whip to straddle Jackie and draw his fist back, striking him again and again. "I'll make you beg for mercy like the useless little bitch you are! You're pathetic, Jackie! You're pathetic! No wonder no one - fucking - wants you!"
Anti buries his teeth in Red's throat.
Jackie wakes up screaming and tearing at his bedsheets, sobbing and ripping holes into the cloth. He cries like wild, tugging his hoodie close to his body and chewing on the strings of his hood.
If Blue were here, he could hold on to him, and he would rub his back and whisper reassurances to him. Squish him to his body and stroke his hair. But Blue isn't here. Blue got sick of him. The fighting and the nightmares and the - the - the stuckness of Jackie, the obsessions and stubborn immobility, the terrified refusal to acknowledge everything that's wrong. Jackie weeps into his pillow, shaking with an emotion too big to identify. All he knows is he wants to hit something. Hit everything. He screams and strikes his pillow once, twice. He strikes himself, hitting his head with his open palm as hard as he can. He tears out of bed, stalking around his room, grinding his teeth and trying to make the tears stop. How many nights in a row has Anti tortured him? Screamed at him? Told him how useless he is? Why won't it ever stop?
"Pathetic!" he shrieks. "I'm not pathetic! And I - hero! Heroism, I'll show you, fucking - ah!"
He screams, striking the wall with his fist. Fury and hatred like it's the only thing left in him boils against his bones.
Jackie sinks to his knees, heaving.
"Look at me," he chokes into the darkness. "I can't... I can't... I want..."
He wants to break in half.
He wants to go crying to his brothers and ask for help.
But he doesn't.
He doesn't.
After long minutes, Jackie drags himself to his feet, shaking.
"Pathetic," he growls. "Yeah, we'll see. We'll see."
He pulls his sneakers on and opens the door to the apartment. The hot night air rushes over him in a swirl of wind. He draws his hood down low, over his eyes.
There's something burning under his skin. Only one way to get it out.
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Mine
Here’s another Dabi scenario that I wrote, wayyy back in 2019 and hopefully, it’s still just as good to read for everyone! Feel free to let me know what you think.
Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋
Dabi slammed the door behind him angrily while you dropped your bag, spinning on your heel to glare at him, unaffected by the temper tantrum he was throwing.
“Wanna tell me why you felt the need to kill him!?” You demanded, watching him closely as he stalked towards you, his hand shooting out to grab your cheeks roughly, squeezing them as he angled your head up to look directly into his blazing blue gaze, allowing you to see just how furious he was.
“Why? Because you’re mine! Anyone that touches you like that again will end up just like him!”
You winced as you pulled your head back, managing to break free of his grip, unable to stop the snort of amusement that slipped past your lips. Honestly, you should have known better than to rile him up but this was beyond a joke.
“You know what? You’re delusional! I’m not yours or his or anyone’s! I’m a currently unmarked, unattached omega that’s about to go into heat and you, you snarling asshole, aren’t helping me! So, get out!” You snapped, grinding your teeth when you noticed that instead of listening to you, he chose to do the exact opposite, moving closer and backing you up against a wall, catching your wrist when you moved to slap him.
“You’re wrong. You are mine and you know it too. Or do I have to prove it?” Dabi growled low, his eyes flashing in warning while he pinned your wrist above your head, his other hand going to your jaw and tilting your head up just enough to let him trail rough kisses along your throat.
You arched your back slightly, letting out a gasp as he pushed his knee between your thighs to keep you upright when you began to sink down the wall, your legs shaking. Your heat was far too close for this, you could feel it, your body was starting to get too warm and slick was starting to pool.
All because of him.
“What? Got nothing to say for once? There’s a surprise…”
Clicking his tongue, he moved his hand away from your wrist, just long enough to strip you of your top, using it to tie your wrists together slowly, snickering at the lack of resistance from you.
“Wait. Dabi, this isn’t…last time was just a once off…” You trailed off, gulping as you looked down at him, seeing the way he watched you, as if at any moment he would devour you. Admittedly, you wouldn’t mind letting him have his way with you again but last time he had made it clear he wasn’t going to be an alpha that would stick around and that isn’t what you needed.
“Like fuck it was” He bit out, moving his hand to pin your arms above your head, his other hand moving to your chest while his fingers curled around the front of your bra, tearing it away without care, letting it drop to the floor. Broken and useless.
“Just because I don’t want to stick around and play house with you doesn’t mean you aren’t mine. I claimed you as mine that night (Name)! I fucked you, I knotted you and you loved it. You loved every fucking second of it and you can’t deny it because you know it’s true. You’re my omega and that’s never going to change” Dabi snapped, his fingers closing around your throat slowly while he leaned down to bite at your ear, forcing broken moans past your lips.
“Most omegas are fucking terrified of alphas like me aren’t they? Flinching at every move, every word, every growl. Not you though, you’re fucking addicted to it aren’t you? Such a twisted little omega. I swear to fucking god you taunt me on purpose” He paused, grinding his knee up to rub against your folds through your panties, smirking when he felt how wet you were through the layers of clothes you both had.
“Fucking hell, you’ve gotta be fucked in the head. Really…having your heat induced by this? Kinky bitch…” He trailed off as his grip on your throat loosened slightly, enough to let you breathe easier, though you didn’t get much of a chance before his lips were on yours in a demanding kiss.
You whimpered into the kiss needily, deciding it would be best not to deny it any longer, instead moving your hips to create the friction you were starting to crave, your moans swallowed by Dabi.
“Wanna tell me again you’re not mine?” He questioned, pulling his head back just enough so that his lips brushed against your own teasingly, making you frown and growl in annoyance. Sometimes you wanted to strangle him and other times, you just wanted him to strangle you. On this particular occasion, it was a bit of both.
“If you don’t bury that knot inside me Dabi, I won’t be yours” You snapped, squeaking softly when his grip on your throat tightened, a smirk tugging at his lips. That was a tempting idea, your scent was starting to rile him up and it had been awhile since his last rut.
“Don’t. Move.” He warned, slowly stepping away and stripping himself of his clothes, satisfied when he noticed that you didn’t dare move your arms, instead watching him closely. Dabi could already see how close you were to begging him for what you wanted, he was tempted to tease you but at the same time, he just wanted to make you ride his dick.
“Knees.”
You dropped to your knees almost instantly, your hands dropping into your lap as Dabi stepped closer to you, tangling a hand into your hair while the tip of his dick pressed up against your lips.
Before he had to say anything to you, you licked and sucked at the tip of his dick before trailing your tongue along the underside, making your way towards his knot slowly, smiling when you heard the low groan of approval.
“Take it properly (Name).” Dabi instructed firmly, tugging at your hair before you could reach his knot, making you whine in need before moving to take him into your mouth, squeaking and gagging around his dick when he used the grip on your hair to make you take his entire dick, your lips pressed up against his knot.
“Fuck, just look at you…” He trailed off as he ran his eyes over your messy form, enjoying the way saliva was beginning to dribble down from the corner of your lips. Pulling his hips back, he gave you a moment to breathe before jerking his hips forwards again, groaning when you continued to gag around him.
You gripped the carpet firmly, sucking at his dick greedily while he used your mouth, the taste of his precum making you ache in need of his knot, though you wouldn’t get it yet, not until he was ready. It was unfair but if it was going to be anything like the last time he fucked you, then you were certain it would be worth the wait.
“Oi, why aren’t your hands on my knot huh? You can do at least that much how you are right omega?” Dabi demanded, thrusting his hips harder, causing his knot to push at your lips more, almost pushing into your mouth, making you quickly raise your hands, cupping at his knot and rubbing firmly.
Looking up at Dabi through lidded eyes, you let out noise of content, though it was muffled and distorted by the way his dick was moving in and out of your mouth. Either way, Dabi got the message and tugged at your hair harshly, his hips slowing to a stop.
“You like that huh? The taste of my dick?” He questioned, pulling your head back and letting out a low groan when his dick fell from your mouth with a wet sounding pop, his knot twitching slightly.
Dabi tugged on your hair again, making you stand before dragging you towards the nearest flat surface he could find, quickly bending you over it. The hand in your hair keeping your head pressed against the table while his other hand went to your clit, flicking it before rubbing firm circles, smirking when you let out a moan.
“Like that?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he continued to tease your clit, using his thumb to rub along your folds slowly, causing you to push your hips back against his touches, moaning loudly.
“I didn’t say you could do that, keep those hips still” Dabi growled out, pinching your clit firmly before thrusting his fingers inside you, curling them roughly and making you cry out, your body jerking as your orgasm rushed through your body, your walls clenching at his fingers desperately.
“Always so quick to cum for me hm? Just like last time” Dabi snickered, removing his fingers slowly, moving them to pinch and rub your clit, making you gasp and try to wiggle away from his touches, whining when you couldn’t escape the hold he had on you with his other hand.
“D-Dabi…stop, that’s…I only just came…! You’re gonna make me cum again” You moaned, whining each time his fingers moved against your clit, causing pleasure to build up within you even more.
“Wouldn’t that be a sight to see huh? I’m gonna be knotting you until you can’t walk, so you might as well get used to the feeling” He warned, moving his fingers faster while he moved slowly, pressing the tip of his dick up against your folds, groaning at the heat that was coming off of your body.
“You tell me when you’re about to cum again (Name). You hear me?” He demanded, tugging on your hair roughly and making you squeal out slightly, your hips bucking hard due to the rough treatment he was giving you.
“Y-Yes! I heard you…” You trailed off, clenching your fists, trying your hardest not to move your hips back against him, knowing he wouldn’t be afraid to spend the entire day torturing you with orgasm denial, or worse. It was just the sort of person he was.
“D-Dabi…Alpha…I’m gonna…”
He let out an amused chuckle while he moved his fingers away from your clit, instead gripping your hips while slamming up into you, his knot easily pushing into you and making you cry out his name loudly, your second orgasm of the night rocking through your body, making you quiver and shake at the pleasure, your walls squeezing down on Dabi’s knot eagerly every few seconds.
Letting out a low groan, Dabi pressed you into the table more, setting a harsh pace as he began to fuck you, constantly rubbing up against your spot, uncaring with the way you whimpered and twitched beneath him.
The noises you made were driving him insane, pushing a rut closer without you even realising what you were doing to him while his hips pounded against you, constantly filling you with every inch his dick had to offer.
“Dabi…Dabi I can’t keep…too much, it’s too much” You whimpered into the table, gasping as he moved his hands to the edge of the table beside your head, using his hold to slam into you harder, grinding himself up against your spot and making your knees weak.
“You’ll keep up. Fuck, you feel so fucking good around me, squeezing down on my dick like that…practically begging me to fuck you!” Dabi growled out, leaning down to bite over your back roughly, leaving behind already bruising bite marks as his hips moved hard, his chest swelling with pride when you whimpered out pleas for him to be rougher with you.
Dabi bit over your shoulder roughly, muffling the groans that were spilling from his lips almost endlessly. He could feel his knot swelling quickly, making you overly sensitive before fucking you was one of his better ideas because it meant your body would be trying to milk his dick for his seed while he fucked you, he had wanted to try it last time but the last time you just didn’t have the stamina.
He hadn’t made the same mistake twice.
“Dabi…please…”
He moved one of his hands to your throat, gripping tightly while pulling your head back so that he was able to hear you gasping desperately for the breath that you couldn’t quite catch.
“Fuck, squeezing down on me more now…kinky little omega, you fucking love this don’t you? If you love it so much then cum already!” Dabi snarled low into your ear, his knot swelling and locking in place inside of you while you let out a strangled scream, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your orgasm rocked through your body, making it convulse slightly, tightening around Dabi as he continued to buck his hips, pushing his knot as deep as he could.
Dabi groaned low as he felt his seed fill you, his knot pulsing inside of you while he released your neck, allowing you to lean your head forwards while you gulped in air greedily, shaking ever-so-slightly.
You weren’t nearly ashamed enough to deny that that orgasm had been one of the best yet. You could only hope that there would be more where that had come from.
“Feel good?” He questioned, lazily trailing his tongue over the multiple bite marks that littered your once smooth skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine.
“Mmm…felt better than that but I’m not giving you a big head” You huffed, relaxing into the table while enjoying the way Dabi rocked his hips, wanting his knot to go down already so that you could go for another round.
“Still can’t understand your love for that sort of thing but whatever, rougher I can be with you the better. If I’m going to have an omega, gotta be one that can take what I give” He remarked, running his fingers over your neck slowly, his eyes flashing almost dangerously, almost.
For you it was more of a turn on.
#cheeky kitsune#dabi#dabi x reader#reader x dabi#omegaverse#alpha!dabi#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#scenario#smut#requests
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