#just because i know it’d piss them off
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SECOND THAT
luke castellan x reader
★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”
ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.
WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.
A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows
luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.
when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.
and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?
at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.
luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.
you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.
to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.
he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.
he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?
your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.
maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.
if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.
it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.
of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.
“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”
seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.
“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.
you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.
“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.
luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”
luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.
he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.
why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.
of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.
but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.
and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.
luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?
and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?
luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.
fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.
a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.
luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.
he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.
“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.
“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.
you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.
“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”
you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”
luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.
“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.
“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.
“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”
“is that a threat?”
you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.
“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“
luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”
you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”
luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”
you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.
he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.
“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.
luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.
luke was over it.
suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.
he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.
luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.
you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.
he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.
luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.
“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.
it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.
he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.
he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.
“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.
“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”
luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.
he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.
you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.
his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.
luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.
you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.
“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.
“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.
luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.
luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.
luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.
he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.
luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.
“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.
you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.
luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.
suddenly, he stops.
you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.
“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.
you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.
luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.
he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.
like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.
you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.
“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.
you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.
luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.
suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.
luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.
“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”
you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.
he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.
you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”
#luke castellan enemies to lovers#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fic#luke castellan smut#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan imagines#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader smut#pjo#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy series#pjo x reader#pjo tv show
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strange perfections
in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!
fluff!
warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz
a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses
The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.
Stupid scarf, you think.
Stupid door.
Stupid wind.
Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.
You look at the stack of papers and sigh.
Stupid Lord Byron.
Stupid cafe.
Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.
One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.
Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.
Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.
Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.
Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.
As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.
It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.
Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.
“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.
“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”
The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.
“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”
You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.
Think of something normal to say!
“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”
You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.
“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”
You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?
“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”
He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.
“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”
Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?
But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.
“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”
He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.
All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.
Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.
“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.
“How did you do that?”
His cheeks turn slightly pink.
“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”
“How did you read that fast?”
“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”
You scoff, taking another look through the stack.
“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”
The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.
“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”
Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.
“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”
“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.
“Does that make it better?”
“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”
You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.
“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.
“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”
“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”
He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.
He was totally in love with me.
And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.
All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.
The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.
I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.
What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi!”
Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.
He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.
Spencer. Spencer.
It feels important.
“I see you’ve upgraded.”
“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”
“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.
Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.
Spence.
Reality sets in.
“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”
It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.
“I am a creature of habit.”
Another wave as he walks away.
The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.
“Who was that?”
“Uh… I don’t actually know.”
Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.
Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.
Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.
Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.
But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.
He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.
This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.
“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”
Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.
Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.
“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”
You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?
While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.
“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.
“Uh… hi?”
“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”
“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”
That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.
“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”
“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”
“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”
What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—
“Garcia!”
Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.
Adorable? Get a grip.
“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”
“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.
You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?
“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.
“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”
“Yeah! Um, definitely!”
“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”
“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”
“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.
Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.
So that’s cool.
You’re cool with that.
Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.
“Hotch?”
“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.
“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.
Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.
You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.
Nah. Boys are dumb.
You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.
It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?
But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.
He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.
Weird.
You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?
“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”
It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.
He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.
“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”
“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”
“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”
“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”
He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.
“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”
It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.
“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”
“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”
Your brow furrows and you laugh.
“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”
“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”
You say it before you can think too hard.
“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”
And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.
After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.
One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.
It ceases. And then it starts again.
Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.
“Do you think you should…”
His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.
“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”
You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.
But his job is important.
“What if you have a case?”
“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”
Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.
“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”
As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.
“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”
Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.
You balk.
“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”
“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”
“Where would this hanging out take place?”
Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.
“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”
He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.
“Restaurants.”
There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.
“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”
You look down. God, your face feels warm.
“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”
Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.
“I would.”
More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.
Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.
“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”
“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”
Spencer chuckles.
“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”
Not, what?
Not, you’ve never been on a date before?
Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?
With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.
He says none of that.
“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.
“Sounds like a good first step.”
Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.
“I’d love to.”
He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.
“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”
His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.
“I should—”
“You definitely need to go.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”
You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.
“I don’t—”
“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”
He’s so weird.
A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic
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Would you be willing to write a Miguel x Spider!Reader oneshot where they’re arguing over something the reader did on a mission. And in the heat of an argument, Miguel yells “Because I love you!” at the perfectly wrong time, revealing why he cares about the reader’s safety.
‘What the hell was that back there. You could’ve jeopardised the whole mission with that reckless stunt you pulled back there!’ Miguel barked, ripping off mask the first moment moment he could; Hellfire were setting ablaze to his beautiful scarlet eyes that were zeroed in on you as the anger, the frustration upon his face became prominent the more he closed the distance between you.
‘When will you let this go, Miguel. When we became Spider-Man we knew the risks that we were running with-‘ ‘so you thought it’d be better to take a running head start by taking the leap and then diving headfirst into them?!’ Miguel cuts you off and with an indignant huff he adds, ‘you don’t get extra points for being reckless, this isn’t some little game that you can just come back to when you feel like it. No, what we do is a full time commitment with no room for last minute deviations just because you were feeling more heroic.’
You grit your teeth. You respected Miguel, you truly did and at one point in time you wanted to do right by his little rule book of how to be a great hero. However you soon learned that it’s better to play by your own rules rather then it was to play by those made by others and slowly but surly found a method that worked for you. For no two methods were the same when it came to protecting and saving people but if they both end in the same conclusion, then no one should be able to raise an issue with it. At the end of the day you and Miguel saved people from a much bigger problem if left unchecked; so why was it that all of a sudden he had an issue with your methods?
It never upset him this much before, so why now. Did he think you as incapable? As unreliable? As untrustworthy to fully let you handle a situation on your own? Whatever it was it only proved in pissing you off despite your semi-injured state; you didn’t care that you’ve gotten hurt, you’ve gotten hurt plenty of times before and he never once batted an eye or exemplified his emotions as he did as of right now. You could barely get a read on the guy as he stood mere feet away, chest heaving even though he wasn’t out of breath, eyes wide and his hair slightly disheveled from the way he had torn off his mask earlier.
And yet you couldn’t help but find him beautiful in his anger, for it was like witnessing the makings of a Greek tragedy; beautifully written, yet so heartbreakingly tragic.
‘Why does it matter?’ You spat, getting up, despite your injured leg’s desire to buckle beneath the weight of not only you but the situation at hand. You saw the briefest movements of Miguel’s arms almost stretch out to instinctively catch you but stopping midway through the motion before going slack at his sides once more; as though remembering why he was mad at you in the first place. ‘It never mattered before, so why does it matter now? You don’t hound the others for doing it so why is it me that’s getting shit on for doing the same when I ain’t the first to do so!’
‘Because I love you!’ Miguel exclaimed.
The silence afterwards was almost deafening. Miguel’s outburst quieted you quickly as a thousand and one thoughts raced in your head; how long? why now? Was this merely a ruse to silence you so he could badger on at you for your supposed mistake? You didn’t know what to make of anything anymore now that he said that. You didn’t want to believe it for starters on the basis that not once had he ever shown interest in you, if anything he made it apparent to push you away or avoid you entirely from any and all interaction, and even when he did it was comprised of short responses that left the attempts at conversation to die as an overwhelming awkwardness forced you into leaving him be.
‘What?’
‘I love you.’ Miguel repeated, softer this time.
‘I get that but why-‘ ‘haven’t I shown it until now? As stupid as it sounds but I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me and look where you are,’ he gestured to your injured state, ‘hurt because of me.’ He adds defeatedly. You were about to open your mouth when Miguel raised a hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished, ‘I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe me when I say that I love you. I avoid you like the plague and I push you away whenever I see you starting to get too close and respond in a clipped tone of voice so that you’d loose interest and move on to talk to someone else.’
He stopped talking to move in closer to you, grasping you by arms with a firm grip as all the anger in his face seemingly having been melted away. The raging hellfire that once consumed his scarlet eyes in their entirety had been diminished to that of dying ambers, unveiling his admiration, his worry, his guilt and most importantly, his love; the sneer now long gone was replaced by a softer more tender expression that didn’t hide away the worry lines that were deeply etched into his skin. ‘I don’t deserve you, I’m not worth having you because sooner or later you’ll see me the way I’ve always seen myself and I’d rather you be as far away as possible when that happens.’ Miguel said, making sure he was maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to prove that he was being wholeheartedly genuine, not wanting to lie to you about something as personal as his feelings; He’s done that for long enough, Miguel knew his breaking point was upon the incline and seeing you act the way you did during the mission only fast forward it.
‘Yet for some inexplicable reason I can’t stop myself for wanting to protect you, to make sure you’re safe, to make sure that you never come to harm. At first I thought it was because I was looking out for a teammate, making sure you didn’t slip up and cause more potential problems for the rest of us, making sure that you didn’t let a single perpetrator slip but soon I learnt it was far more then just simply looking after a teammate...’ Miguel paused to blink away the images regarding of the nightmares he’d get concerning you, which were few and far between but those times were enough to suffocate him with fear. ‘It was something more and I grew scared, I grew scared because I know what it’s like to loose it all but for some reason I also knew that loosing you would just be the nail in the coffin for me.’
Miguel admits as he presses his forehead against your own, his hands trailing from up your arms until they’re caressing the skin of either side of your neck between calloused thumbs. He closing his eyes and allows himself to breath you in, reminding himself that you were here and that he managed to get to you before anything else could, that he kept you safe, not from all harm but at least from some of it and that was good enough but he knew deep down that he needed the do better. ‘Don’t make me imagine a life without you,’ he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours just that tiny bit harder as his fingertips found their home where your pulse points were to remind him that you weren’t gone completely from his grasp, ‘for I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand that reality.’
‘You don’t have to.’ You told him softly, lifting your hands to caresses the skin of his cheeks and feeling him effectively melt within your hold. ‘Not anymore.’
#spiderman atsv x you#spiderman atsv imagine#spiderman atsv#spiderman atsv fic#spiderman atsv imagines#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv x reader#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o’hara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara imagines#Miguel o’hard fic#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderverse x reader
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later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★
˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-
☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her
daily click! palestine masterpost
☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass
☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol
☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)
☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆
u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add
my masterlist
ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.
today, ellie was running late.
mistake number one.
she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.
she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.
she opened her phone to turn on her music.
you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.
unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.
guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.
granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.
which she was not.
mistake number two.
you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.
if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.
you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.
she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.
“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.
in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.
you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.
“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.
she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.
you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.
“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.
you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.
just really pissed off.
ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”
you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.
“thanks.”
as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.
when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”
ouch.
okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”
you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.
“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”
she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.
her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.
it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.
“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”
you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”
“…oh.”
well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.
you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.
mistake number three.
the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.
ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.
her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.
what the fuck just happened?
“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”
yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.
you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…
“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”
you sound more like you care this time, at least.
not that you do care, or anything,
just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.
that’s all.
“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”
“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”
“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”
you narrow your eyes at her.
no way this girl was reckless and stupid.
“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”
ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.
“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”
you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.
“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.
…and kinda wishing she’d come back.
just so you could get the last word.
when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.
you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.
“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”
“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”
“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”
“...well?”
“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.
this felt like a sick joke.
abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”
“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”
“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”
“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”
“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”
“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.
“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.
asshole.
“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”
“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.
god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.
“ha-ha. good one.”
“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”
“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”
“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”
she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.
he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.
“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”
“but—“
“drop it.”
he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”
“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”
“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”
ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.
still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.
“don’t let it happen again.”
“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”
“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”
she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.
austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.
“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.
austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.
as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.
“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”
he has to be kidding.
she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?
amazing. just what she wanted!
“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”
she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.
the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.
she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.
terrible timing.
she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.
that wasn’t really a good option.
uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.
she was screwed.
nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.
she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.
oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.
her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.
does she care? no.
jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.
she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.
thank you jesse and jesse’s money.
when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.
ugh.
“you’re a wreck, williams—“
“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”
the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.
it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.
“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”
she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.
“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.
she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.
you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.
“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”
“i can wait here.“
“sit.”
“fine.”
she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.
she was hoping to never see you again.
maybe coming here was a mistake.
“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”
you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.
you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.
“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.
ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.
demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.
damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.
would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.
she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.
“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.
she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.
man, this sucked.
“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”
“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”
“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”
you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.
“i have a car.”
ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.
“okay? congratulations?”
“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”
“no.”
“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”
ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.
“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”
“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”
“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”
“what’s your name?”
“huh?”
“are you dumb?”
“…it’s ellie.”
“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”
“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.
“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”
“wait. i’m sorry.”
fuck.
maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.
she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”
“what’s the magic word?”
“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”
“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”
ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”
“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”
“yeah. that sounds good.”
this is such a bad idea.
#max writes ☆#btw#ladybugs symbolize positive change#and luck#will make a part 2 eventually maybe i’ll actually finish this series#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#tlou#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#wlw#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x f!reader#sorry i know jesses ooc but i rewrote it like 10492 times i can’t get it to sound good
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bratty baby
Bratty Reader x ages up!Earth 42!Miles Morales
Pink is readers texting/speaking
Purple is Miles texting/speaking
Miles is 18 in this one!
🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾
“Ion give a fuck what plans you and your lil friends had tonight, I said don’t go out so you’re not goin out.”
For the past two months, Miles has been getting more and more controlling over what you can and can’t do and telling you when you can go out with your friends. It’s been getting on your nerves and while it’s very, very attractive, it’s pissing you off. You barely see your friends anymore and you hate being inside.
“You’re not being fair Miles! I never get to see my friends anymore and I miss them and they miss me!” Even through text he could tell you were pouting right now. Miles could just imagine you kicking your feet on your bed.
“So what, I’m just not enough for you? I’m all you need amor, why do you wanna go see them so badly? You don’t need them.”
“Miles, you know that’s not at all what I’m saying, I’m just saying that I miss my friends and I wanna see them!”
He didn’t understand why you couldn’t get what he was trying to tell you. He just needed you to not go out at night, especially tonight. He couldn’t tell you about him being the Prowler, it’d break your hot pink heart.
“And what I am telling you is that you’re not going out tonight.”
“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do Miles. I’m not your fucking kid!” You were getting angrier by the minute, every word, burned and angered you even more. Usually you’d just listen to him and stay inside like he asked, but tonight you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed his buttons just a little more…
“You talkin real crazy right now, mamí. Ima let it slide tho because I know you’re just mad and in ya feels. But don’t ever say sum crazy shit like that again, because I remember what happened last time you wanted to be bad and go against what I say. Why not run it back, whatchu say ma?”
You stayed silent, fuming and thinking. He was being so unfair and you had no idea why. You didn’t like being left in the dark and he knew this.
“Now this conversation is over, I got shit to do.”
“You right, this conversation is over. Fuck you Morales.”
You silenced your phone and with a shaky hand and butterflies in your stomach, you put your coat on and walked out your house.
After about 20 minutes you started to feel bad. You didn’t know why you were so mean and disobedient to him. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, all he ever did was spoil you and make you feel special. Even though you felt guilty, the fire in your stomach from the anticipation of what was to come made you feel even better.
You had just walked out the door of the club you and your friends went to and started your route home when you heard a noise behind you. You looked around but found nothing. You sped up your pace and started to walk towards your house when you heard it again, this time next to you.
When you looked over, you saw nothing but an empty street and a few lamps on. You continued your walk when something hit your head. You could feel yourself falling but didn’t feel the concrete below you. The last thing you saw being purple AF1’s.
🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾
When you woke up, you were back in your house, an ice pack under your head and blankets pulled up to your chin. You heard your tv on in your living room and quickly got up to investigate. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of your boyfriend in your couch, sitting there like nothing had happened. His legs spread, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. The thing that caught your eye was the mechanic claw on his right hand.
When he noticed your presence he looked up at you and tilted his head. The glare on his face reignited that fire in your stomach. He stared at you, saying nothing at all as you shifted on your feet, nervous.
When you finally did decide to speak, your tone came out nervous and shaken and not at all like how you meant for it to sound.
“Why are you in my house Miles?”
“I can’t just come over when I wanna?”
“Answer my questions for once! Why are you in my house and why do you have on that same claw that the vigilante on the news wears?”
He knew you were a little daft but he didn’t expect this kind of idiocy.
“C’mon baby, put two and two together. I know you’re smarter than ya look.”
You knew the truth but you didn’t wanna believe it. You stayed silent, staring at him and fiddling with your hands. You were overwhelmed with fear and arousal, confusing you even more than ever.
Once he recognized the look of understanding on your face, he leaned back and curled his finger towards you in a demanding way.
“C’mere, we gotta talk.”
You sat down on the couch next to him, thighs touching and your gaze locked on the ground.
“Don’t be like that, look at me mamí”
When you looked at him, he could see the betrayal in your eyes. But he could also see the need and wanting. Feeling naked under his gaze, you looked back down at your floor,
“You’re him? You’re the guy from the news?” You voice quivered as you spoke, shaking from either fear or the amount of need and attraction you’re feeling right now. This man has killed people, he could kill you at any point! So why does that thought turn you on so much?
“Oh so now you wanna talk?” He asked, a lilt in his tone that let you know he was smirking without even having to look at him
“Don’t be mean Miles. This isn’t the time for jokes.”
“Yea I’m him, what’s it matter to you?” You knew that under the anger and accusation in his voice that he was feeling vulnerable. You crawled on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder and hugged him.
He froze at first, confused with the random affection, but slowly accepted the warmth. “I love you regardless of what you’re doing and who you’re killing.”
Miles almost wanted to scream at you to be afraid of him. He’s killed people. He’s hurt people, innocents even! Why weren’t you running?
You pulled back and reached up to cup his face and inched closer to him, looking down at his lips for permission. He closed the gap between you two and kissed you softly, like he missed you. It was warm and passionate, it wasn’t like this often. You didn’t often get this softness from him. But when you did, it made you feel like the most special girl in the world.
When you pulled back for air, you smiled, giddy with the thought of having your boyfriend back and not mad at you. But when he spoke to you, you knew you were in trouble.
“Don’t think I forgot what happened earlier. I was the one who brought you home, laid you down and tucked you in.” Miles looked down at you, smiling as if something was funny. You couldn’t move, the grip he had on your hips was tight, almost like a warning.
“Are you gonna hurt me?” You knew the answer, you always did. You knew what happened when you disobeyed him and what he says. You remembered what happened the last time.
Miles laughed, a loud hearty one, head tilted back and canines exposed. He chest shook with laughter and you shook in fear on his lap. When he looked down at you once more, he looked different, almost predatory.
“Oh chiquita, Ima do so much more.”
#Miles Morales#miles morales smut#earth 42 miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader#earth 42 miles morales smut#earth 42#across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#spiderman#Spider-Man smut#spider man smut#spiderman smut#marvel#into the spiderverse#the prowler#aged up miles morales
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saw ur post ab the vees and i wasn't sure if u wanted nsfw rambles or sfw rambles so like... i'll send the sfw rambles in a separate ask 😭
anywaysss im thinking ab putting them all in their place.... maybe they're all arguing over you or being pissy to eachother in general so you punish them all- seperately ofc, u cant have them getting off in eachothers pleasure bc ik damn well they'd be into watching you fuck someone else especially another one of the vees
i am always willing to rant about the vees🙏🙏🙏
summary — The Vees being humbled by the reader in the form of loose, unprofessional headcanons and vague thoughts.
warnings — dom reader, sub… everyone else, very messy, not proofread, read at the risk of incoherence
a/n — I HATE THEM SO MUCH!! THEY’RE THE WORST!! Let’s as a society fuck them to tears.
So, unpopular opinion, I’ve see a few ideas of being the vees collective lay or ‘plaything’ fucktoy, and the idea is so much more fun with a dom reader.
And i’m saying that objectively too, like not just as a dom reader blog. Because these are three people who make up the worst aspects of society, and lowkey are basically just manipulation tactics personified. Propaganda the trio!
Looking at these cocky assholes, who are the embodiment of what is considered terrible people, and who all have unmatched mathematically impossibly high egos, would it just be so fun to fuck the pride out of them?
Especially, for example, let’s say you’re around a lot and you’ve become a trusted person a good fuck for the Vees. They all have terrible attention seeking tendencies, so it would be safe to assume they’d be all over you.
Vox would be trying to talk to you about whatever particular subject he thinks is most interesting (about himself) to capture your attention, while Velvette would be close to you as well, flicking her phone your direction to show you something she finds funny or hot, but mainly as a subtle power-play to get your attention off Vox and onto her.
Valentino would be much less subtle, of course, by nature. He’d be all up around you, touching you, running his hands along your shoulder blades as he walks past, and probably the type to ‘drop something’ and bend over to flash you his fishnets and panties.
Needless to say, they’re all pissing each other off immensely. Obviously, being short tempered people, this leads to an argument because Velvette was ‘talking to you first’ but Vox had ‘actually important things to say’ and according to Valentino ‘the two of you were boring them out of their minds’ and he had to ‘spice your day up.’
Unfortunately for the Vees, you don’t do your one ‘job.’ Your attention isn’t given to any one of them. Yet. You just simply sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone and flicking through channels. Maybe you even actually leave the tower and go eat out or something.
Of course, until later when you pick them off one by one. And no matter who you decide to fuck senseless first, they will be so obviously loud just to be petty because, after all, you did choose them first.
Like they would be being obnoxiously vocal about how ‘full they are’ or how ‘you’re going so fast!’ or some other fake shit like that. It’s honestly a whole show.
Now, I feel like fucking all of them at the same time is kind of inevitable, because they’re all deprived horny freaks on the lowkey. (Except for Val it’s very highkey.)
But I think there would be little mannerisms that appear on one on one sessions that they would NEVER show during a foursome.
For example, Vox’s certain… titles he uses. mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink.
Because he would literally die before calling you mommy or daddy in front of Velvette or Val. It’s okay when it’s just you because it’d be easier to be vulnerable around someone he trusts to set his dominance fully aside for.
And like, yeah, the other Vees know he gets fucked just like the rest of them, but it’s simpler for him to keep his illusion of dominance and respect out side of the bedroom, if the more shamefully submissive aspects of himself stayed hidden.
Also, I think Valentinos would have an easier time actually giving into to subbing during one on one sessions. Like yes, he does sub when it’s with you all the time. That’s the point of the fic.
But he’s less of a power bottom, and his flirtatious, incredibly disgusting remarks subside much faster into whimpers and whining.
Because, although less professional than Vox, he does still have an image. And when it’s just you fucking him, his vile horny comments disappear into whines for your attention in no time. Well actually a lot of time, but the point is that they actually do.
And similar to Valentinos, Velvette’s confidence when bottoming alone with you is increasingly less apparent.
Yea, she’s still bossy and definitely a power bottom, but there’s more of a recognition that she isn’t in charge. Honestly, she’s such a princess I think she’d actually have a very hard time going into subspace, even when alone.
Because degradation just pisses her off. Why aren’t you worshipping her like you should be? But then it’s, what the fuck, why aren’t you worshiping her like you should be??
It makes her brat out even harder, which she does show in front of the other Vees, until she’s actually just needy to be pleased and given pleasure, making her twice as whiny. That aspect she does not show in front of the vees.
But let’s talk about group sex with the Vees. Probably only used as a severe punishment, or a surprisingly giving reward. I have a very particular scene for the severe punishment aspect, however.
So they’ve all been bad, but let’s say, for the sake of specifics to set the scene, Val has been worse. It is still a punishment for Vox and Velvette, but punishing them all to the same extent when Val has misbehaved clearly more would be wrong, would it not?
They’re all greedy, selfish assholes, so you’ve concocted the perfect form of torture for your useless brats; they don’t receive anything until they’re good. Especially Val.
Velvette has a strap on, so she can’t even feel anything but minor friction when you slide your worked open ass onto the plastic dick and open your legs, exposing your empty pussy to none other than Vox.
He eats you out reluctantly, while rutting into the mattress as fast as he could, all while you cockwarm (and sometimes roll your hips to press the strap against her pussy uncomfortably) Velvette.
Oh, and where’s Valentino? Tied up in a chair in front of the bed, getting a perfect shot while being totally naked and hard. You have a gag in his mouth too, because otherwise he’d be complaining the whole time. Because that’s just not fair, is it?
He does this all day for a living. Seriously, he watches people fuck all day. It was his turn to feel something! And you would only have punished him more if he’d done something about this at work today. (Yikes..) I mean, this sounds like complete and utter bullshit. A lose-lose situation!
But, it actually is completely fair. And as you’re receiving all the pleasure, from Velvettes feelingless, fake dick, Vox’s tongue while he humps the bed pathetically, and Val’s whines in complaint, you know the punishment is working.
You’ve bothered them behind belief, you’ve hit a spot you knew would leave a message.
Because none of the attention is on our poor little trio at all. These naturally selfish, greedy people, have to finally give. And god, they’re becoming more desperate for your attention and praise by the second.
a/n — We all know I love sub Vox. But this opened by eyes to how much I love sub Velvette and Valentino. REQUEST THEM ALL MORE.
Also, Rose, I CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU FOR A FIRE ASF PROMPT.
if this flops im throwing myself out of a window btw
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#inbox open#hazbin hotel smut#dom reader#vox x reader#valentino x reader#velvette x reader#vox smut#valentino smut#velvette smut#sub vox#sub velvette#sub valentino#vox x you#velvette x you#valentino x you#the vees x reader
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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help
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Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.
The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.
Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.
The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.
That social worker.
“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.
“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”
He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”
“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”
Nightingale frowned a little at that.
“Is that what people are saying?”
“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”
“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”
“You wanted to work here.”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.
She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?
Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.
“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.
“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”
She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”
Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”
Jason considered her.
Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.
It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.
Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.
For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.
And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.
He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.
“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”
“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”
Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.
“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”
Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.
“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”
Oh.
Those.
“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”
He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.
“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”
Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.
“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”
Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.
#dpxdc#jazz fen#jason todd#social worker jazz#social worker jazz fenton#anger management ship#anger management#pre anger management#jason todd x jazz fenton#i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay#the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something#the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul
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꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ꒱ 김동현
summary : you’ve been bored of your boyfriends calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight — however, it gave you something much better
genre : kinda angsty, suggestive, leehan x afab!reader
tws : language, kinda toxic behavior, suggestive content
author notes : sorry this took a while i’ve been supah swamped but i hope you enjoyed the direction i took your request in !!
word count : 1.4k
you don’t know why you were doing this. even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.
maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. but, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. he was so damn peaceful all the time — you loved that about him, really — nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.
this was fun.
you knew it’d work. you’ve never let leehan purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you, but simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. you’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. he’d even bargained with leaving them in places only he could see, but you still refused. especially if you couldn’t return the favor.
you knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. it was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. you wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.
he’s never gotten mad at you. he’s never yelled at you. he’s never dared put a hand on you. and that was a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. you wanted him to yell at you — at least once — manhandle you — consensually, of course — you wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up, but it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.
“what’s that?”
“what’s what?” you asked, acting obliviously as you scrolled through twitter and instagram in turns.
he shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.
nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. after all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight.
and throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch leehan staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. he kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. he’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.
you were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed.
maybe he was gathering his thoughts. maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man — why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. maybe the cool, calm and collected leehan was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.
maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. did it upset him? you wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. he was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the hell tiktok had inspired you to do.
you kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. and just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil — adult-ish — conversation, a text illuminated your dark screen.
it read: we need to talk.
yet you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. of course you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. what else could it be? and why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?
you didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. i just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. i’m so bored of this. nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.
you also knew that he wasn’t far. he wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torcher you — though it would’ve been deserved. so, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.
then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. the air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. were you sorry? yes. did you feel bad for being immature? yes. was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?
yes.
"y/n," was the first, and only, thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. you watched as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. maybe leehan was able to torcher you, even if unintended.
his eyes finally met yours, but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collar bone. he knew. he's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.
"what's that?" his arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot, but you very much did.
almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "what's what?" you reenacted. although this time, he didn't let it go. he approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.
his hands were slow with movements. those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. one forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.
you fronted being indifferent, but truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.
"you must think i don't know you," he voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. and it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. i couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."
and the nickname he always called you — innocently and less than — had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice you thought. maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. and maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him, but sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. after all, he could always say my ... anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.
"i-i," you couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. his breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "i — uh, fuck. leehan,"
his voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat, "if you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. i'd give you anything."
the eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. you knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. and his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.
his palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly, "if you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."
reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!
#kpop#kpop requests#kpop writing#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpopidol#kpop bg#romance#kpop fluff#kpop suggestive#kpop smut#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor#boynextdoor drabbles#boynextdoor smut#boynextdoor leehan#kim donghyun#bnd x reader#bnd fluff#bnd imagines#bnd#bnd smut#bnd hard hours#bnd hard thoughts#bnd leehan#kpop boys#kpop drabbles#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n
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Teenage Dirtbag X
JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron
Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON acts, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.
Your rescue just comes with a price.
⭑
You blinked at JJ’s question, leaning back against the wall of the pool house.
He sat next to you, both of you facing the couch, and you tried to ignore the feel of his arm brushing against yours. Despite the fact that it was only a week ago that he was kissing you in your bedroom—and that Rafe didn’t not deserve it—you still felt wrong about the whole thing. Horrible or not, the older blond was still your boyfriend, and it was bad enough that you were hiding out in the pool house with JJ while Rafe was probably off snorting coke with his friends.
You didn’t want to make it worse by doing anything other than talking.
The blonde’s question made you eventually sigh, straightening.
“Hey…hey, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t-.”
“No…I…” you shook your head. “It’s fine.”
That was the truth.
“It’s just that I’ve never talked about any of this with anyone before…”
Your voice shrank, and you didn’t want to admit how comforting it felt to feel JJ’s hands come up to rest on your arms. It was strange to say all of this out loud to anyone, especially JJ, because you were so used to Rafe’s behavior—had been rationalizing it for so long—and you felt nervous as to how JJ would take it.
“It was my 19th birthday,” you slowly said.
You felt JJ tense, and when you snuck a glance at him, there was a deep frown on his face as he looked at you.
“We were arguing…” you sadly smiled as you thought about what it’d been about. “…because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”
You scoffed at the memory and at how you’d ignored what you thought was a little thing.
“It’d been a sore spot for a while. I was a virgin, I wasn’t ready, and Rafe was waiting longer than he’d anticipated.”
JJ’s hands fell, and he fully turned to face you, that frown remaining on his face as he listened.
“It became this whole…thing that really just pissed me off because it was my birthday,” you spat out, frowning now too. “It was my birthday party, and he was ruining it.”
You swallowed, recalling how angry and sad you’d felt that night.
“You know, I was reading up on this one day, and it said that sometimes people like him will purposely start arguments and fights on special days and holidays and stuff to make it all about them?” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. “They were right.”
Tears kissed your eyes, and JJ reached out to brush his thumbs underneath them.
“…because every time I think about that day, instead of remembering turning nineteen and celebrating with my family and my friends and my boyfriend… All I remember is him slapping me,” you whispered, holding JJ’s gaze. “All I remember is where it all started and how he begged me to forgive him…and how I should’ve left then.”
“Hey…”
“It was my birthday…but to me it’s just the beginning of the end. It’s the start of when Rafe ruined my life.”
JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and you pressed your face into his shoulder. You felt so odd—so much lighter—and you didn’t need to be a therapist to know that it was because you were finally talking about this. The blonde’s hands rubbing up and down your back was enough to make your lashes flutter.
“You know, I blamed myself for the longest time,” you mumbled.
JJ pulled away almost immediately, lips parting, and you shook your head.
“I know that it’s not my fault. I know that, now, but… I was so angry that night that I said things that I knew would make him mad,” you shrugged. “It just didn’t seem fair that I was the only one upset on my birthday.”
“That doesn’t excuse him hitting you,” JJ bit out, and you nodded with a shrug.
“It doesn’t…but…for a while I kind of believed I’d brought that on myself.”
JJ looked like he didn’t know how to take in what you’d told him, pink lips pressed together as he just studied your face. The bruising under your eye was practically nonexistent, and you shuddered when he reached up to lightly graze the skin with his fingers. You’d been exceptionally agreeable since the incident, dreading a repeat of the night where Rafe forced himself on you so violently that you’d had to strip the sheets.
JJ suddenly blinked, brows twitching, and there was an unsure look on his face.
“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, voice low, and you nodded.
A look passed over his face that you couldn’t place, and he seemed to be thinking hard about whatever was on his mind.
“A little over a year ago…”
You felt your shoulders droop, almost positive you knew where he was going with this.
“Sarah told us how you and Rafe had called the police one day.”
You sighed, recalling the story Ward had repeated. Neighbors were bound to notice a police car in the yard, bound to spread gossip, and he couldn’t very well tell people the truth.
“She didn’t know what for. Said that Ward wouldn’t tell her…”
JJ’s words died in the air as you stood, his hands falling from you. You tried not to think about that day if you could help it, and you were surprised by the quick procession of tears. JJ stood with you while you wiped your face, and you knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth.
“Did you call the cops? On him?”
By his tone, you could tell that he knew the answer, and when you sniffed, JJ was there. He turned you around and pulled you against him. The reminder of that day—and all the emotions that weighed you down that evening—had more tears escaping against your will. You twisted your fingers into the back of his shirt, trembling in his hold, and JJ held you tighter.
“I thought I was going to die,” you shakily confessed. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
You could feel a shiver crawl down his spine at that.
“He was so mad,” you cried. “He was screaming and throwing glass at me and…he put a gun in my mouth.”
Your face was pressed into the crook of JJ’s neck.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I really thought…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut. “It’s why I didn’t even want to talk to you. I didn’t want to go through that again for something as stupid as a smile.”
JJ seemed to freeze at that, and when he pulled away a bit, his gaze was questioning.
“What…?”
You opened and closed your mouth while JJ just stared at you, blue eyes glinting as his mind started to put the pieces together.
“What do you mean? Are you saying…?”
“No! JJ, that wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”
“Stop saying that,” he breathed. “What the hell do you mean? Are you saying Rafe did that because…?”
You rubbed your forehead, sighing.
“JJ, it wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who smiled back at you that day at The Wreck. Rafe saw.”
You swore you saw the color drain from his face, and you watched JJ stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the couch. He was staring up at you with parted lips, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that he was going over that interaction in his mind. It was such a simple and harmless interaction…one that had an almost fatal consequence.
JJ ran his hands down his face.
“…and when I told Rafe that you’d apologized to me?”
His voice was low—troubled—and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, you only pulled your lip between your teeth. When you didn’t respond right away, you watched him exhale, shoulders sagging as he buried his face into his hands.
“JJ, that wasn’t your fault.”
I’m an idiot,” he choked out.
“JJ…” you whispered. “You couldn’t have known.”
“That doesn’t matter!”
He was standing, now, and you hated the conflict and regret you saw in his eyes.
“I knew he treated you like shit,” he spat, gesturing towards the door. “I knew it would piss him off.”
“JJ,” you reached for him.
“I just thought you guys would argue a little,” he whispered, and you rested your hand on his arm. “I didn’t know that he was…”
You held his gaze—yours pleading—as you tried to get him to see that it wasn’t his fault. You needed JJ to understand that there was no way he could’ve known. Sarah lived under the same roof as Rafe—and you half the time—and she still didn’t know. You weren’t going to fault JJ for thinking Rafe was only capable of being a little bit of an asshole.
When JJ’s hand rested on your cheek, your heart skipped a beat.
He was getting closer, and you should’ve been stopping him. The truth was that you felt safe with JJ, and you didn’t want to. The beginning of your relationship with Rafe felt like ages ago, so this safe—and excited feeling—you were experiencing with JJ felt almost new. When his nose touched yours, you placed your hand on his chest.
“I never would’ve done that if I had known…”
“I know you wouldn’t,” you reassured him, swallowing when his other hand touched your waist, fingers grazing the skin from where your shirt rode up. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” JJ argued. “You were right that day. I was being an asshole.”
When his lips brushed yours, you shook your head.
“JJ-.”
The rest of your words were swallowed when his lips covered yours, following you every time you tried to step back. It had been a week since he kissed you last, and the way he moved his mouth over yours told you that he would do it every day if he could. His hands were all over you, and you gasped into his mouth when they rested on the small of your back, pinning your lower half against him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m really fucking sorry.”
When your back met the wall, JJ wasted no time in pressing his knee between your legs, and you couldn’t hold in the shudder as he pressed his leg against your clothed mound. Things felt like they were moving too fast, so much so that you didn’t even realize what was happening until you moaned, JJ forcing you to grind yourself against his leg.
His hands were tight on your waist, and his lips had just traveled to your neck when your phone rang.
It startled you and angered JJ, the blond letting out a frustrated huff. It was Rafe—you knew it was Rafe—the other blond calling you almost every hour from the moment he’d left. JJ’s hands briefly squeezed your waist before forcing himself to pull away. His blue eyes glinted, and when you studied his face, he only shook his head.
Reluctantly, he let you go.
“Hey,” you softly said the moment you answered the phone.
You avoided JJ’s gaze as Rafe’s voice filled your ear.
“You know what? I actually think I’m gonna just head home.”
JJ’s voice reached you from the kitchen, and you only briefly glanced up as Pope responded.
“Seriously man? Now, you don’t even want to go out anymore? You made such a fuss!”
“Yeah, I know,” the blond said, and you heard Sarah say something—probably to John B. “…but I’m not feeling too good, and I think I’m just going to go home.”
Pope sounded disappointed—as did John B. —but they didn’t argue with him much over it. You were currently in the Cameron’s kitchen getting something to eat, and you had been since Sarah, her boyfriend, Pope, and JJ came inside under the reasoning that Pope had to pee.
“We’re just going to hang out with some people at the beach,” she’d said.
You could see it in her eyes then that she’d wanted to ask you to join them, but even if you hadn’t given her a look warning her off of that, Rafe’s tight grip on you was clear. If Sarah thought he was strict before, then it was nothing in comparison to how he was now after the incident at The Chateau. His phone call only moments ago was proof of it.
“How are you going to get back?” Sarah wondered, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.
“You know I’ll find a way,” JJ told her, tone light and boastful.
She made an unsure sound before letting it go.
“Well, leave before Rafe gets back. I don’t want a phone call from Rose or Y/N telling me that my brother and my friend got into a fight.”
You closed the fridge as the rest of them filed out, telling JJ to call them when he made it back to The Cut. The house was oddly quiet, and while you wanted to pretend like you weren’t alone in the house with JJ—Rose didn’t count—it was kind of hard to do when you turned around to find him at the kitchen entrance.
He was wearing some shirt with the sleeves cut off—as he often did—and you tried not to let your gaze linger on his arms.
“I hope you didn’t do that for me…”
The smirk that danced along his lips gave you your answer.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, stepping into the kitchen. “I was kind of hoping Rafe wouldn’t be here.”
“…and he could walk in at any moment…as is his right. Considering,” you gestured around. “…this is his house.”
JJ leaned his arms on the other side of the counter, gazing up at you as you grabbed a paper towel.
“Hey, I’m sure I could find some excuse if he catches me in here…”
He straightened, slowly making his way around the island, and you didn’t miss that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.
“If he manages to find me on top of you…maybe I could even tell him I forced you into it.”
“JJ…” you said, taking a step back.
He held your gaze for a few moments before looking away with a shake of his head.
“Why do you feel bad about what you’re doing? He treats you like shit,” he chuckled, but it lacked humor.
You looked away from him, shrugging.
“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered.
He didn’t respond right away, and you didn’t hear him move closer, so you shuddered when you felt his fingers grazing the side of your face.
“You shouldn’t feel bad about kissing me,” he quietly told you. “If you ask me, you should be doing a lot worse.”
When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you’d anticipated, and you sharply inhaled. Despite his cheeky nature, you could see the way his eyes dimmed as he looked at you.
“Every time I think about him…and you…I think I could kill him.”
You frowned at his confession, shaking your head.
“JJ…”
“I would if you asked me to,” he continued, moving closer. “I’d drown him in the fucking ocean.”
“You can’t-! You can’t say things like that,” you said, voice lowering.
“Why not?” he curiously wondered. “You’re telling me you don’t want him dead for everything he’s put you through? There was blood on your sheets last week-.”
“I know,” you cut him off. “I was there, remember?”
You watched JJ take a deep breath, and he seemed to be calming himself down. The silence was a little tense, and you worriedly eyed the entrance, expecting Rafe to just show up at any moment. When JJ took your hand, you tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t let you. You found yourself between him and the counter, and your heart was in your throat.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just…don’t understand why you’re fighting me.”
Your eyes burned, and you briefly looked towards the ceiling.
“…because,” you breathed. “He’s still my boyfriend.”
“The only reason you’re with him is because you don’t want him to fucking murder you,” JJ sneered. “That’s not a relationship, that’s a hostage situation.”
You couldn’t disagree with JJ’s assessment, and you both knew it.
“He enjoys treating you like shit…so why can’t you bring yourself to enjoy treating him like shit?”
Again, JJ’s logic wasn’t wrong, and you briefly closed your eyes with a sigh.
“…because if he caught me, he’d kill me,” you whispered.
When JJ’s hand touched your face again, you held his gaze. The smile he gave you was small, and your heart fluttered when he brushed his thumb over your skin.
“What did I say earlier?” he mockingly replied. “Let him try to kill me for fucking his girlfriend, I don’t care.”
He pressed his lips to yours.
“I just want you to stop feeling guilty over that asshole because he doesn’t deserve it.”
You chewed on your lip as he ran his eyes over your face, and when he was about to kiss you again, you shook your head.
“You should go. Sarah was right, Rafe could be back at any moment, and… That’s not a fight I think I’ll ever be ready for,” you sighed, moving from between him and the counter.
JJ seemed reluctant, but he eventually obliged, grazing his hand along your waist on the way out.
Rafe’s light snores grew quieter the moment you closed the door behind you.
He’d come to your house drunk and stumbling, too wasted to even fuck you—although it wasn’t for lack of trying. Naturally, he wouldn’t hear a word you said about drunk driving, waving you off and laughing in your face. After his second failed attempt to stay awake, he merely rolled off of you, his even breathing reaching your ears only moments later.
You’d pulled your knees up to your chest, eyeing him for the longest time and mulling over your conversation with JJ. You knew that the other blond wasn’t wrong. Rafe had done—and would do—much worse to you. Your relationship wasn’t a relationship, at all, but instead a prison, and maybe you shouldn’t feel guilty for finding some semblance of happiness. No matter where it came from.
Once alcohol knocked Rafe out, he was pretty much dead to the world for hours.
…and that was how you found yourself putting on shoes while he slept. You might’ve been more nervous and scared if you weren’t so in tune with Rafe’s patterns. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t wake up until at least noon the following day, but you still kept your steps light as you made your way down the stairs. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, and your fingers shook while you disabled the alarm.
The walk across the lawn felt too long, and if you hadn’t already psyched yourself up, you might’ve turned around and went back inside the house. Out of paranoia, you looked over your shoulder, relieved to see that your room was still dark with no sign of movement in the window. JJ didn’t open the door right away when you knocked.
However, once fatigue faded a bit, and he realized that it was indeed you through the cracked door, he was swinging it open and pulling you inside.
“I just…wanted to sleep here for a few hours I guess,” you murmured, still feeling unsure.
JJ shifted on his feet, and you only then noticed his bare chest. The plaid pants he wore hung low on his hips, and you told yourself you weren’t here for anything like that.
“…and Rafe…?”
“So drunk that not even an earthquake could wake him,” you said with a shrug.
JJ pulled his lip between his teeth, eyeing you with a look that was hard to name. He didn’t respond right away, just staring at you and studying you. His light hair was going every which way, some hanging into his face, and one hand ran through it when the other eventually reached for you.
“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, pulling you to him.
The pool house wasn’t as big as others you’d seen—namely some of your former friends—but it was spacious enough for both a living room and a decent sized bedroom. JJ’s hand was tight on yours as he pulled you through the threshold, and you glanced around, recalling that you hadn’t been inside the bedroom since high school. The bedding was askew, obviously lived in, and you were glad your parents barely paid the building any mind outside of the yearly spring cleaning.
“Do you like staying here?” you asked him, sitting on the edge of the bed.
JJ found that funny.
“If you’d ever seen my place, you’d know how crazy that question is,” he told you, plopping down beside you. “I love staying here.”
His face was close to yours.
“…and not just because of the 100 thread count sheets or whatever.”
He shrugged at you, eyebrows waggling, and you fought back a smile.
“I guess I’ll have to see your place to give me some perspective then.”
His own smile twitched, and you didn’t like the way his face fell a bit.
“Nah,” he breathed. “That’s…not something I want you to see.”
You felt your own face fall.
“…I mean, I know things with your father are pretty…ugly, but it’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”
Your tone was a little hopeful, and you watched JJ watch you. His blue eyes shined in the darkness, and you didn’t miss the way his smile grew again. When he reached for your face, he let out a light laugh.
“Yeah…yeah it is where I grew up,” he confirmed. “I guess you’re right about that.”
He pulled you with him as he laid down, and you faced him on your side.
“We’ll have to find some way to get you back to The Cut then,” he whispered.
At the reminder of your last visit, you both grew quiet. You were sure you both were remembering that morning when Rafe came to pick you up, and you recalled your next reunion with JJ, feeling comforted that he was so worried about you the entire time. As if thinking of the exact same thing, he touched the skin under your eye, and before you could say anything, JJ leaned in to touch it with his lips.
“I really hate that you’re with him,” he said after a while, pulling away. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
You took a deep breath at that, reaching out and touching his arm, thoughtful.
“…and you do…?”
When you lifted your gaze, your eyes met his again.
“I like to think that I do,” he murmured, fingers dancing towards your chin.
JJ pulled you into a kiss, and despite the fact that this wasn’t what you snuck out of the house for, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. In this moment, JJ felt like your boyfriend—lying in bed with you and talking to you and kissing you. It was the most relaxed you’d felt in bed for a long time, and you knew it was a feeling you could get used to…and have trouble going without.
“What are we doing?” you found yourself whispering in the darkness.
You looked between his eyes as you asked this.
“Rafe’s…asleep in my bedroom…and I…” you scoffed. “I’m here with you.”
“It’s sexy, isn’t it…”
“JJ,” you sighed. “I’m serious. Like…what are we doing?”
You were sure that your worry was all over your face.
“We don’t have to have an answer for that, right now,” was his response, hand touching your waist. “I just want to help you forget about Rafe, sometimes.”
He kissed you again.
“I want you to be with someone you don’t have to be afraid of,” he murmured against your lips. “Someone you can relax with.”
He pulled you closer, rolling you both, and when he rested on top of you, you pressed your hands to his arms.
“JJ, I don’t… I’m not comfortable with anything like that yet.”
Your lips brushed his as you spoke, and you swallowed.
“Kissing you and sneaking around to talk to you is one thing, but…”
You didn’t know why, but going beyond that in any way would make what you were doing seem too real—too deceptive. JJ didn’t seem to care about that though, pressing his lips to yours again.
“Do you trust me?” he wondered into the kiss.
“Yes, but-.”
“…but what?” his nose touched yours as he pulled back, holding your gaze. “You’re just scared because Rafe’s intimidated you and beaten you down so much that you’re afraid to do anything for yourself.”
Was that the root of it? It was true, of course, but you also still felt uncomfortable.
“I don’t know…”
“Hasn’t Rafe also been the only guy you’ve ever been with?”
You gave a reluctant nod, and JJ smiled at you.
“…and you don’t think that has something to do with it? You being scared of what you don’t know…?”
That was also true, and JJ took your silence as consent, kissing you again as his hand trailed down your frame. You made a slight noise of protest when his hand slipped between your thighs, Rafe’s t-shirt riding up. The blond on top of you swallowed it down, refusing to break the kiss, and you jerked when his fingers brushed over your underwear.
“JJ,” you said when you turned your head away, pushing at his arm.
“It’s okay,” he breathed against your cheek. “Trust me.”
When you looked at him again, his fingers were already tracing circles over where your opening was through the fabric. His blond hair touched your forehead.
“I would never hurt you,” he assured you, more pressure from his fingers, now.
You involuntarily lifted your hips, and you didn’t know if it was to push him away or get closer. You wanted to push him away, not quite okay with taking things this far just yet. In truth, you didn’t know if you’d ever be, and you thought about what JJ said. Maybe you were just scared, but did you fix that by pushing yourself to do something you weren’t ready for?
You supposed it didn’t matter, anyway.
JJ’s fingers were circling your clit, panties resting on his hand as he touched you. His lips trailed kisses along your neck, and without thinking, you threw your head back. You forgot all about Rafe who was knocked out drunk in your bed, none the wiser to JJ’s fingers sliding between your lower lips. You could feel genuine excitement, something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you sighed when he dragged his fingers between your folds.
You could tell that JJ was being mindful of whatever lasting damage there still might be from last week.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, lips at the corner of your mouth. “…and wet.”
You shuddered at those words and the feel of the tips of his fingers just barely dipping into you before he pulled them out.
“Do you get this wet for Rafe?”
The mention of your boyfriend had your heart skipping a beat, but the feel of JJ’s fingers massaging your soaking cunt had you answering honestly.
“No,” you breathed, and you felt him smirk against your skin.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” he confessed.
“JJ,” you warned, hand on his wrist.
“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but a guy can dream.”
You pulled your lip between your teeth.
“I think about it a lot…pushing my cock into you and watching you stretch around me…”
When you softly moaned at that, JJ hummed.
“Do you think about it too? About milking me dry?”
You clenched around nothing, aching as he circled his fingers.
“…because I do…especially in his bed,” you dug your nails into his skin. “Fucking you until you come on his sheets, letting me fill you up right where he sleeps.”
You gently shuddered, your orgasm washing over you as you wrapped your other arm around him. JJ rode the wave with you, fingers rubbing against you, playing with you as you soaked them.
“Atta girl,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt slightly disbelieving at what had just occurred.
The proof was smeared on the inside of your thighs, but even when you watched JJ place his fingers into his mouth, it still didn’t feel real. JJ wouldn’t let you go as you caught your breath, kissing you again when you finally did.
“See,” he quietly told you. “That wasn’t so bad.”
He may have been right in some aspects, but JJ’s way around words and that tempting influence of his had you worried about what else you’d convince yourself you wanted.
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#dark!jj maybank#dark!jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank fanfic#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#obx#obx imagine#obx fanfic#obx fanfiction#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfic
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Cold, Cold, Cold | ONE-SHOT
for always acting so cold toward one another, it really didn't take much for things to heat up...
✧ content: ~5.8k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, modern au, dubcon due to marijuana use, switch!eren/reader, haters to hate-fuckers, okay maybe you have a soft spot for one another idk, dry humping, light choking, f!fingering, degradation themes, dirty talk, spit play, rough sex, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, facial, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ only
Your footsteps thundered in rapid fire, rattling the whole damn staircase. From porch to back deck, anyone in the Kirsteins’ chalet could hear you coming. And they did.
If they had to bet on where—or to whom—you were missiling toward, the odds would be disproportionately in their favor.
“Here we go again,” Connie muttered. He reached for the six-pack he had just carried inside and cracked open his first beer of the day.
The rest of your friends, all four of them, put their heads down—not to be confused with inattention. It was a spectacle the same way a car wreck was a spectacle, something they didn’t want to witness directly but held their attention just enough.
The fifth, your not-friend, sighed. Like everyone else, he anticipated you rushing here in your hot fury. The only difference was he knew he was the target.
The pitter-patter of your feet echoed through the hall. The tile felt icy beneath you, your skin still shower-hot and sweltering with vexation.
“What the hell is your problem?” you roared as you rounded the corner. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
Eren, your not friend who arguably wasn’t worth referring to by name, scoffed. You were baiting him, he knew that. Even so, he wasn’t above getting swept up in some senseless arguing. In fact, he would be hard-pressed to pass it up.
You were making a much bigger deal than he thought necessary. You were actually making an entire show of it, he thought, marching right up to him like you were any more intimidating than a mouse.
He only loured down at you, already bored of your antics. “Haven’t you ever heard of locking the door?”
If it wasn’t clear by this point, Eren had walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and God, you could kill him for it.
Not long ago, you were one of the first guests to arrive for your week-long getaway. Jean stood in the doorway to his family’s vacation home and ushered you and Mikasa aside. He gave you a tour of the place, showing you the room the two of you would share. Then, he pointed you to the bathroom; you were in desperate need of a shower to liven up after the car ride.
The running water drowned out the shudder of the front door and the boisterous greetings between everyone downstairs. You didn’t know anyone else had even arrived. You were contented, properly warmed from the outdoors, and humming as you stepped out of the shower, taking in the chic stone-clad bathroom.
You didn’t recognize the click of the door when you should have. You were standing there, towel-dried and as bare as could be, and everything that came next happened in a blurry blink of an eye.
It remained indiscernible which happened first: your horror-movie-worthy shriek—because as much as you didn’t want Eren to see you naked, he startled you even more—or his brief, “Shit. Sorry.” Either way, it happened, but why of all people did it have to be him?
Thankfully, he shut the door just as quickly, leaving you to contemplate if the snow would cushion your jump out the window to escape.
In total, it took less than an hour for you to regret your choice to come.
“I already said I was sorry. What more do you want?” Eren chided. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah, right. You knew it’d make me mad, that’s why you did it,” you snapped.
Eren snorted like you were being ridiculous. “Do you try to find reasons to be pissed off all the time, or are you just like that?”
“That’s you, not me.”
“Only because of you.”
Mikasa wedged herself between you and Eren like she had before. It hadn’t happened many times, but more than you would have liked. Enough that you could no longer count it on your fingers.
“Cut it out already!” Her glare shifted from you to Eren, making it loud and clear the message was for both of you.
Before either of you could say anything for yourselves, Jean threw himself into the mix next. “Would it kill you to play nice for a week?”
“For me?” Mikasa pitched her voice higher, sweeter, and her eyes were soft.
She was the only reason you were here. Her birthday was two days away, and Jean volunteered to host the celebration. You were surprised he extended the invitation; you were friends only through Mikasa. But she insisted it wouldn’t be her birthday without all her friends. So, as her very best one, you agreed to it with a big, fake smile and gritted teeth.
Now that you were here, you couldn’t leave even if you wanted to; Mikasa drove.
After a day spent traveling, it wasn’t exactly the celebratory first night everyone expected, but no one complained. By the time a movie was settled on, Armin had already gone to bed upstairs, and Sasha passed out not long after. And by the look of it, Connie would be next, having made himself comfortable against her shoulder.
But that was boring. And out of everything Eren could do then—his options were limited—sleeping sounded the least appealing, even when compared to chatting you up.
He only considered it because Mikasa had pulled him aside earlier. She ‘strongly advised’ him to be the bigger person, if not for her than for the sake of enjoying the rest of the week.
So when Eren noticed you alone in the kitchen, he figured it was as good a time as ever to try and bandage the bridge. Mikasa only asked him to try, so the outcome didn’t matter much to him. Whatever way you reacted, good or bad or ugly, at the very least, it would be more entertaining than this movie.
“Hey.”
Your eyes followed the voice until you found Eren stopped in the doorway. You felt your brows furrow, your tone cautious and curt when you replied, “Hi.”
He took it as an opening to join you in the kitchen, but you were sure you didn’t mean it as an invitation.
You bristled. “What do you want?”
He pulled a face but was otherwise unbothered. “What? I can’t say hello?”
“No, you can’t.”
Eren rolled his eyes. “Fine. What about a peace offering?”
You surveyed him, suspicious. Whatever he was offering, you didn’t trust it.
“I don’t need your olive branch,” you snubbed.
“Who said anything about olives?”
It sounded as if he really meant it, which only furthered your point.
You sidestepped him to leave.
Eren stopped himself short of catching you by the wrist. That wouldn’t help anything. But he did call for you in a sort of whisper-shout, just loud enough to grab your attention. He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled himself together, for Mikasa.
“We got off on the wrong foot. I’m trying to fix that,” he told you. He reached into his pocket and showed you his palm. In it, a decent enough joint. “Okay?”
Right then, you would have done just about anything to relax—almost anything. The solution to your frustration was right in front of you. The only problem was that he was also the source of it.
“I don’t know,” you hesitated. “Jean seemed pretty adamant about the no smoking rule.”
That wasn’t a lie. It was one of the very few rules he had mentioned upon arrival.
“Oh, fuck Jean. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Eren ticked his head toward the stairs. “We’ll head up to the attic. I’ll even open a window if you’re that worried.”
You could get snippy with him over the attitude, but you bit your tongue. He was being sensible for once, so you ought to do the same—at least until he gave you a reason to snap that figurative olive branch in half.
“Okay,” you sighed. “Lead the way.”
On the way upstairs, you checked on your friends only to find them exactly where you had left them. It was your second house tour that day as Eren took you further than Jean did, to the very end of the hallway.
What you would expect to be a linen closet, Eren opened to reveal another set of stairs. You trailed behind him, unwilling to be the first to blindly wander into a dark attic. But after Eren flicked on a lamp, you realized it was far from the forgotten crawl space you had imagined.
Jean's family must have recently refurbished the room. It looked half-baked, still in the works of becoming a completed guest room, but it hadn't lost its old-time feeling yet, painted sepia in the lamp's light. There was a bed, neatly made but sitting frameless on the carpet. The ceiling slanted to the left, and if you wanted to pick a book from the built-in shelves, you’d have to crouch.
Across from you, on the other side of the little room, Eren pushed open the window. The night greeted you with a gust of winter air. You hugged yourself in a weak attempt to stay warm, considering you were dressed for cozying up by a fireplace.
“How did you know this was up here?” you asked.
“I’ve been here a few times over the years.” Eren plopped onto the floor and retrieved the joint. He was looking down, not speaking to you directly as he answered. “Had plenty of time to do some exploring.”
The house creaked with the wind. The sound of groaning wood sounded angry from up here. You rooted your feet in place.
“I didn’t have a lighter, but I did find this.”
As he said it, Eren revealed a candle lighter, likely pocketed from another one of his ‘explorations.’ He waved it around, and the flexible end flopped from side to side. He cracked a small smile, and you did the same, and you didn’t know what to make of it.
You watched him place the joint between his lips. He held it there, trying to align the flame with its end. He overshot it at first, then had to squeeze an eye shut to focus his vision. You lightly snickered.
“Don’t laugh,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.
Once the joint caught, Eren took it with two fingers and set the lighter aside. He pulled a long drag and held it in even longer. He looked at you again, waiting on you, whether you were just going to stand there and watch or not.
You sat near the window, cross-legged and opposite him. He handed you the joint on his exhale, aimed only slightly toward the sliver of open window.
You took a hit, and it burned a little. You stifled your cough as you leaned to blow the smoke outside.
The snow was shimmery in the moonlight, still as fresh as it was when you first arrived, blanketing the ground and weighing down the wobbly tree branches.
You finally coughed then, interrupting the thought. You hid your face in your elbow as you passed the joint back to Eren. He plucked it from your hand, not bothering to comment on your cough or the tears welling in your eyes.
After another hit or two, you began to blink slower. You noticed a heaviness in your eyelids, like you were suddenly made aware of their existence. You let your high settle in, propping yourself up on your palms and relaxing back. You admired the painterly night again, the snow even brighter than it was minutes ago.
Lost in his own high, Eren’s defenses were down. It took him by surprise when he looked at you and felt… something.
What happened earlier threw off the whole dynamic between you, at least when it came to his side of things. Truthfully, he had no idea what to think anymore.
Honest to god, you really pissed him off sometimes. And yeah, you being Mikasa’s best friend made his life exponentially harder. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about you, that he couldn’t look at you.
Eren’s eyes wandered absentmindedly. You were still agaze at the window, unaware that he stupidly couldn’t stop staring at your chest. Your tank top was distracting, your nipples pert from the cold and consuming what remained of his dwindling attention span. Whether it was right of him or not, he found thinking about earlier, trying to piece together his fuzzy memory of what you looked like beneath the thin fabric.
Consider it a temporary lapse in judgment, but maybe what pissed Eren off the most about you was that he wanted to sleep with you—after your uptight, bratty personality, of course. But that would be easy enough to fuck out of you, if you let him.
Hey, everyone wanted the two of you to get along, right? This would be more than doing what was asked of him, though he wasn’t sure he’d play nice.
Eren came to when the roach burned his fingers. He tossed it out the window with a hiss.
You noticed his proximity then. It wasn’t intimate; it was more innocent than that. The kind of closeness shared between friends, despite that you were anything but.
You looked down at his hand resting beside yours and wondered, if you were to touch him, how would his hand feel right then? Placed atop his, would it warm you from the creeping night breeze?
Or perhaps the better question was, why did you want to know—want to touch?
Heat radiated from the nape of your neck, and it unnerved you.
It was as if all the edges about you, your prickliness around Eren, had been buffed smooth. When you would normally recoil, you only sat still as he tilted into you. You were stuck in a daze, and in that daze, you could only focus on his eyes, lidded and a little glassy but pretty. Had they always looked like that—that pretty?
“You’ve been on my mind a lot lately,” he told you, but it wasn’t a confession. He said it unabashedly, looking you straight in the face. “For obvious reasons.”
You almost fell for it. Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was your and Eren’s turbulent history, but you couldn’t help but laugh. You did your best to keep it short, teasing, “What? I didn’t get you all hot and bothered, did I?”
You waited for him to laugh, for him to admit he was fucking with you, but his expression was steadfast. His eyes didn’t waver from yours except to look at your lips.
“Something like that.”
If you thought your heart was thumping hard before, you were now convinced you might throw it up. You wanted to blame it on frustration, considering he was still thinking about that, but you weren’t sure the feeling was there anymore.
Eren closed in on you like he wanted to whisper a secret. He stalled momentarily, giving you the chance to shove him away. You didn’t.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
You felt his words vibrate against your ear.
“How pretty you looked.” His head dipped slightly, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he murmured, “How soft you must feel.” He pressed a kiss there, below your ear, but you felt it tingle in your toes. “How good you must taste.”
Your head, once buzzing and light, went heavy. Eren’s hand curved around the back of your neck, allowing him to do exactly what he said he wanted: to taste you. With wetted lips and softly grazing teeth, he savored every exposed inch of your throat.
You mustered what resolve you had left and cleared your throat. “I thought you said I pissed you off.”
You surprised yourself with how poised you sounded, but Eren kept it together just as well.
“You do,” Eren said plainly, even as he continued to feast on your neck, and you continued to let him. “But you also happen to turn me on just as much.”
He punctuated the sentence with a lick of his tongue, trailing up to the hollow behind your ear before he nibbled at the lobe. A shiver ran through your spine, and his hands traced along its path. His fingers tickled at the bare skin of your lower back but didn’t dare any further. He idly kissed at your neck, patiently waiting to see what you had to say next—if you could still speak, that is.
You felt his lips peck your jaw, then the side of your face, but never your lips; he only ghosted over them. As you moved in to meet him, he pulled back with this smirk like you had fallen right into his trap.
“You have to tell me,” he said through that same grin.
Your eyebrows pinched together. “Tell you what?”
He sat back even further. “If you want me to kiss you.”
You tipped your head in that ‘you can’t be serious’ sort of way, pointedly glaring at him.
“It’s not my fault you’re giving me mixed signals,” he said airily. “An hour ago, you would have said you hated my guts.”
“Still do,” you muttered.
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
You couldn’t put your finger on him. Was he only confident because he knew you’d never say the words? If you were to ask him to kiss you, would it shock him enough that his tough-guy act would finally crumble? If you were to admit you wanted this, would he admit he wanted it just as badly?
No, you’d bet he wanted this even more. After all, he was the one to initiate this.
A frisson skipped through you. You pushed yourself onto all fours, leaning into him with the heels of your hands digging into the carpet. You licked your lips in anticipation, telling him, “Kiss me.”
Then, for the first time possibly ever, Eren listened to you.
You couldn’t say why you did it, only that you wanted to. You wanted to know how his lips felt when they weren’t against your neck but slotted between your own. You discovered a surprising softness as he kissed you back, so unlike his usual abrasive self.
The feeling whirring in your chest wasn’t the one you expected. You thought there would be resentment, that you might finally come to your senses. And if that didn’t happen, then the least you expected was confusion; that would make sense. But you only felt satisfaction. Satisfaction, but only filled ninety-nine percent to the brim. That last one percent was nagging at you. It kept you chasing.
At some point—you didn’t know how much time had passed—you realized you had forgotten to breathe. Eren caught your chin when you pulled away. Shallow breaths trembled on your lips. Your eyes flitted across his face as you waited for reality to sink in, but it never did.
“Kiss me again,” you mumbled.
When he did, the kiss changed, and neither of you had the wherewithal to consider the consequences of it.
Restraint slipped through your fingers, but there was no use in trying to collect it. You could taste the need on each other's lips, just as potent as the smoke on your tongues as you moved yours against his.
Eren placed a hand at your waist and pulled you in. He was forceful enough that you had no choice but to collapse onto him. Neither of you minded the thud.
You had him pinned between your legs, your hands on either side of his face as you continued making out, your lips never disconnecting once.
Your fingers slid higher until they were beneath his head and tangled in his hair. He had you by your hips, tugging you down until you were fully against him. You felt him, how hard he was, as he rolled you over him. Through layers of clothing, you let him drag you over his length. Your panties pressed against your cunt, reminding you just how wet you were for him.
When Eren let go of you, you continued grinding down onto him all on your own. You were aching, throbbing, and trying to choke back whimpers as your kissing turned sloppy.
He practically had to swallow a whine of his own when his hands pushed between you to latch onto your breasts. He yanked down the hem of your top, revealing your bare tits to him for the second time that day.
Remember, you were still high; every touch, every sensation, had been dialed up to a ten. The air in the tiny attic grew chillier by the minute. You shivered hard when Eren groped at your breasts, tossed your head back with a gasp when he thumbed over your sensitive nipples.
He was a bit dumb to anything but the pair of tits, your lovely tits, shoved in his face. He brought his mouth to your chest, just his lips at first, kissing wherever he could before closing them around your nipple.
His mouth was hot against your skin, his tongue flicking and circling your nipple before sucking lightly. Harder once you bore your cunt down on him harder, clearly getting off on the feeling.
Still unsatisfied, you straightened out, pawing at your top until you could throw it over your head. The room felt even colder without your shirt, without the heat of his mouth. Even in that brief second, you missed it.
Eren missed it, too, boyishly wanting to return to playing with your tits, freed and there for him to openly admire. It was pathetic, how maddeningly he wanted you, even as you quite literally looked down on him, perched with your hands flattened against his chest. He felt surrendered to you.
You tilted your head and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You sounded a bit breathless, not nearly as pointed as you intended.
His hand slid up the curve of your side, his gaze rising from your chest to meet your eye.
“You look good,” he said bluntly. “You’re really turning me on right now.”
Instantly, you felt your blood run hot, your cheeks all feverish.
“Oh, whatever,” you dismissed with a click of your tongue.
“You asked.”
You jokingly slid your hand to the base of his neck like you wanted to keep him quiet. Instantly, he stiffened beneath you, not his cock but his entire body—though you did feel that twitch, too.
You moved your hand higher and grinned when you felt his Adam’s apple roll beneath your grasp. It was a moment you could only describe as a short-circuit—not just for Eren but for you. Your mind blanked to anything but him, exactly like this. How good he looked beneath you.
You bent to kiss him. His mouth opened for you to lick into, groaning when you started to work your hips again.
The feeling of your clothed cunt rubbing against him, your hold on his throat tightening as your weight shifted forward, had his cock straining in his sweatpants, almost painfully so. He tried to hold back, hands clutching your thighs like he could ground himself, but he shamefully couldn’t stop himself from rutting up into you.
You drew back, separating an inch, but your hips didn’t relent. You washed his jaw slack at the push and pull of pressure over his cock. You scanned over his face, from his low-lidded eyes to his lips, slightly parted and glistening from your kiss.
Saliva pooled behind your front teeth. You couldn’t say why you did it—or what compelled Eren to go along with it—but you grabbed his face and lined your mouth with his. His lips parted further like he knew what was coming. The very corners of them pinched into a grin, slight but undoubtedly wicked.
A long string connected your lips to his tongue. Before it could snap, you kissed it into his mouth, and he welcomed it with a perverse groan.
“Bed,” he muttered between swapped kisses.
It wasn’t a question, but you nodded in agreement anyway.
Eren sat upright and took you with him. He slid his hands beneath you, carrying you to the bed—if ‘carrying’ was the right word for it. He trudged to the bed, knee-walking with you clumsily wrapped around him.
He dropped you first, then fell at your side. The old mattress springs squeaked under your desperate movements.
Eren kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth the same way his hand slipped down the front of your pajama pants. Your legs spread on instinct, making room for his hand to close over you. Even with your underwear in the way, his touch made your stomach flutter.
Your panties quickly became an annoying obstacle. The soaked fabric slid around with little friction as he rubbed your pussy, only making it harder for him to touch you properly. He pushed them aside and let his middle finger run along your slit, then promptly pumped it inside you.
Your moan was smothered by your lips smushed to his. You struggled to kiss him back, mouth stuttering as he added a second finger inside you. Your walls pulsed around the intrusion, having little time to adjust to his thick fingers stretching you. But as he curled his fingers toward your navel, rubbing the pads of them against that erogenous spot, your muscles slacked. Your entire body gave into him.
With his fingers rightly slick, Eren returned to circling your clit. He teased you, touching you only enough to keep you bleary, riding out your pleasure but never reaching the destination.
You bunched his shirt in your fist, tugging and vaguely trying to get it off him.
“Take it off,” you demanded in a wet mumble against his mouth.
Again, Eren did as he was told. You used the opportunity to wiggle out of your sweatpants.
You trailed a hand down his stomach, felt the ungiving muscles, and followed the soft hair leading below his waistband. His cock throbbed in your hand as you started stroking him slowly, thumbing over the tip and spreading his precome down his shaft.
Eren shimmied your panties halfway down your thighs and shoved his hand back between your legs. His pumping fingers were attuned to your hand movements, fucking you at the pace he fucked your fist. His thumb pressed down on your clit, sparking a fire that spread through your lower half.
You no longer minded the open window or its breeze; the attic had grown heady, the air between you thickening with every humid breath you exchanged. You nearly couldn’t breathe right then, but there was only one thing you could think about.
More. You needed more.
You weren’t in the mood for needless foreplay; you wanted to have him inside you.
You grabbed his wrist.
“Fuck,” you panted. “Just fuck me already.”
A biting smile crossed Eren’s face.
“So demanding,” he tutted, his fingers still lazily playing with your pussy. “Can you at least say ‘please?’”
You reached for your underwear hanging at your knees and bared yourself entirely. Despite his smug words, he followed suit and started removing his sweatpants.
You laid back and retorted, “I’d choke you right now, but I think you might like that.”
You looked comfortable, but Eren didn’t hesitate to flip you onto your stomach. He splayed a hand in the middle of your back, shoving you into the pillows.
He kicked off his sweatpants and boxers at once, sitting back on his calves and settling between your legs.
“You’re probably right,” he said casually.
Eren raised you by your hips. He licked his fingers—tasted you on them—and smoothed them over your cunt, already messy with your arousal. You held your breath in anticipation, quivering when you felt the head of his cock meet your entrance. But it only lasted a second before he pushed inside you to the hilt, even tugging back on your hips to ensure it. You could practically feel him in your stomach.
You whined loudly. Eren predicted as much, considering you were always whiny. The pillow did its job and muffled you well enough.
But what he didn’t predict was how fucking good you would feel around his cock.
“God damn,” he rasped on a drawn-out grunt. His eyes screwed shut, a shudder wracked through him, and he was very thankful you couldn’t see him right then.
Eren never imagined this happening, let alone imagined how you might feel—until today. Even then, he never dreamed of how much he’d actually enjoy it.
He smoothed his hands up and down your sides, taking a full second to gather some semblance of composure. Your skin was balmy, yet his touch scattered goosebumps along the backs of your arms.
He swallowed thick as he started to move, slowly dragging his cock in and out, testing you, before setting a proper pace, as he’d call it.
You wrung the sheets in your hands, lifting your head to find your breath as Eren drove into you from behind. Every thrust of his was punctuated by your little pants of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ as he kept you pinned to the bed with bruising strength.
You were rapt on the feeling, how full you were, as your cunt flexed, desperately trying to accommodate him. It was a lot, you could only bite your knuckle to quiet your cries, but you’d be damned to say you didn’t just love it.
Grunts, raw and tight in his throat, slipped past his teeth as he watched you twitch around his cock. He was surprised by you, listening to your mewls grow more incoherent, more guttural, the harder he fucked you. How your pussy gripped him perfectly, like you were sucking him in for more after he had bullied his way inside you.
Eren was right. Maybe all you needed was a good, hard fuck.
“You like that, huh?” he asked, holding you down still, having his way with you.
You ignored him and focused on your imminent orgasm.
You felt his hand curve around your face, his fingers pushing past your lips. You tried to close your mouth around them, but he hooked your cheek.
“I can’t hear you.”
He spoke it like an order, and you were feeling defiant.
You reached for his hand, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. You angled your neck to try and get a look at him.
“That all you got?” In spite of the gasps between your words, you smiled provokingly. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
You couldn’t resist goading him, that would go against your nature. But you were quickly made aware of what you signed up for once Eren threw you onto your back, staring down at you with darkened eyes. You had successfully gotten under his skin, feverish and slightly sheened with sweat because he had been fucking you like he meant it.
You were talking a big game for someone with dried tears streaking her cheeks—with fresh ones spilling as he rammed back inside you. But if you wanted him to ruin you, then that was what you were going to get. He just wanted to see the fucked-out face you’d make when he had you coming on his cock.
Eren took hold of your jaw, tilting it so he could lick the pretty tear on your cheekbone. He could already see every spot he bit and sucked along your neck and chest, every scathing mark blooming beneath your skin that you’d have to explain away tomorrow.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he told you.
Your legs felt comparable to gelatin, but you managed the feat anyway. You locked your ankles against the small of his back, clinging to him, racking your nails down the taut muscles of his back as he pounded into you. His pelvis collided again and again against your swollen cunt, the brutal sound filling the attic.
“Fuck, just like that.” Your eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t stop.”
The iron-hot coil in your stomach had been winding tighter and tighter since you first kissed Eren. Now, it was straining, begging to snap. You thoughtlessly snaked a hand between your legs, needily rubbing your clit
“C’mon,” he urged you, even pleading your name. “Come on me. Please.”
The sudden need in Eren’s voice had you taken aback, tearing you from your ledge until your orgasm harshly fell over you.
Your entire body trembled. You could only whisper a tiny, “Coming,” as the rest of the words hitched in your throat.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Eren said through ragged breaths, fucking you through it. “There you go, come all over my cock.”
Your legs were shaking so badly they had dropped from his waist. The aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you; Eren could feel every one of them.
“Shit, I’m gonna—” His unrelenting pace began to dissolve. “Can I—fuck, where should I—”
“Anywhere,” you interrupted. You were too far gone to care.
Your body went limp and lazy as Eren pulled out of you. He straightened out and sat forward on his knees. His cock dripped with your come; you could hear the slick sound as he jerked himself off above you.
His pants turned into short huffs through his nose. He squeezed the sensitive tip of his cock, cursing to himself as he let his head fall back. With a final clench of his sore abdominals, he came, hard.
If you were to ask, Eren would tell you he tried to come on your tits, but really, he wanted to come on your face—you know, create a snapshot memory for the inevitable next time you pissed him off. He managed to do a little bit of both.
You winced when you felt the warmth of it hit your chin, your nose, and even as high as your cheek, with the last spurts painting your chest.
Spent, Eren leaned forward, catching himself with a hand planted near your head. You watched his heaving chest, staying so very still as you grumbled, “Really?”
“You said anywhere,” he said through heavy breaths. Once they settled, he reached for a blanket and started wiping your face.
You swatted him away, bemoaning, “You can’t just use one of their blankets, Eren!”
There you were again, already yapping at him. At least he didn't have to worry about things being weird between you.
“What do you want me to use? Your shirt?” He ignored your protests and began cleaning you again. “I’m sure they have a laundry machine here. I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
Eren glanced you over, then wiped another spot near your collarbone. He inspected his work again, looking down at you with eyes that weren’t so dark anymore. Once he deemed you as clean as you were going to get, he petted over your hair once.
There was a pause as you blinked up at him. “We’re not going to bring this up again, right?”
“Nope,” Eren said as he started get up. “Just get dressed.”
You didn’t move, following him with just your eyes as he started to step into his boxers. You bit your lip in thought, then threw caution to the wind as you blurted out, “But if we were to do this again—just this week, I mean—”
He peered at you from over his shoulder. “Then you know where the attic is now.”
You shared a long look, nodded, then prepared to head to your separate rooms for the night to pretend you had long fallen asleep.
as always, thank you for reading ♡
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hi 👋 bsf upstaging bf with choso???
ok i’ve gotten asks for pretty much every other jjk boy on this subject and i want to say something as an overarching theme: all of them ain’t shit. not a single one of them. there’s a scale, some (gojo) are worse than others, but in general, none of them really give a fuck, if that means upstaging, sabotaging, or straight up kicking your boyfriend to the curb so that they can be your boyfriend instead then so be it. but they’re not shit, NONE OF THEM!! but there is a hierarchy and different methods of execution and all that, so here’s where they stand
president and ceo of not being shit: satoru gojo
why would satoru care about your boyfriend? in any and all universes, he is raised in a world where consequences mean nothing to him. so what if he’s a little rude to this guy? so what if he buys you a ridiculously expensive birthday gift that might be seen as romantic? so what if he offers to take you on a vacation that happens to overlap with your boyfriend’s birthday? the worst that will happen to satoru is nothing; the world bends to his whims, never the other way around.
it’s a combination of complete self-confidence + trust in you + getting joy out of bothering people that earns him this number one spot. he’s confident in every sense of the word, so he doesn’t see your boyfriend as a threat. even if satoru didn’t love you romantically, he wouldn’t see a boyfriend as a threat to your friendship either, because he has no doubts in himself—and to the second point, he doesn’t have any in you either: you’ve proven your loyalty to satoru, proven that even when he pisses you off, you still love him, even when you’re dating somebody else, you still make time for him, even when he’s being shitty and stubborn, you don’t kick him to the curb, you just pinch his ear and bring him back down to earth. he’s always chosen you, but you’ve always chosen him, too, so again, what’s to fear when a boyfriend is added to the equation? nothing, because satoru knows this guy can’t earn or replace the loyalty you’ve given him.
and to top it all off, he likes watching your bf grind his teeth. he likes watching this guy have to hold his breath, because what can he say without sounding like an ass—he won’t ask you to tell satoru to fuck off because he hasn’t done anything wrong. treating your best friend to fancy dinners and exotic getaways and designer clothes is just nice when you have money—your bf would be pretty shitty to deny you that. and he’d sound insecure, too. and satoru knows your bf doesn’t have the balls to confront him, and even if he did he’d lose. it’d be embarrassing. so, satoru wins. he always wins. satoru engages in psychological warfare, and he has the physical strength, social power, and financial security to back it up, so he, literally, can never lose. and, sure, having your bf around is annoying, but it’s so much fun to watch other people lose that he lets the guy stick around for a while. you’ll get tired of him and run back to satoru eventually, and he’ll confess this time… hopefully.
vice president: kento nanami
if you expected kento to be lower on this list, think again, because he is just as bad. he’s only second place because he’s not as overt, nor does he wish to actually taunt your boyfriend like satoru would. for kento, you’re just his number one priority. you always have been, ever since you came into his life; it was confusing at first, for him to care so much about you beyond an objective sense of responsibility, but overtime he came to realize that he way he wants to take care of you is different. he doesn’t just want to ensure your comfort and safety physically, he wants to make sure you’re taken care of emotionally, he wants to bear your burdens for you, not just help you through them.
kento is a good friend, a trusted confidant, a reliable person overall, and over the years, he’s inadvertently raised your standards. casual situationships and relationships where you’re not the priority become unappealing when you’ve had someone by your side for so long who’s treated you better than that. if your best friend can buy you flowers, and make reservations at new restaurants, and drive an hour to pick you up in the rain, and cook for you when you’re feeling sick, then why would you tolerate anything less in a romantic partner? these things are the bare minimum to kento, but most other men fall far below average; it’s hard for them to compete where they cannot compare.
so when you do accept a partner, kento is skeptical at best. he knows that what he does for the people in his life isn’t necessarily special, but he doubts that your boyfriend is capable of doing even that—and even if he does meet the standards, he’ll be outclassed anyway. because kento is a good person, but he’ gotten really good at how to be good to you. your boyfriend might get you flowers, but kento already knows your favorites. your boyfriend might send chocolates, but he doesn’t know which ones you’re allergic to, and the brand you prefer; kento does, which is why the ones he bought for you are gone within the week, and the generic box sent over by your boyfriend was re-gifted to satoru. when you voice your doubts about a date your boyfriend mentioned wanting to plan, kento feigns interest, and then innocence when he asks if you’re busy a few days later, if you’d like to help him bake something instead—something he knows you’d much rather do. the short version is—kento knows you, and he uses it to his advantage. he uses the knowledge gained during your friendship to outclass anybody in your dating pool, and he does it so smoothly that it hardly seems intentional or harmful, but it is. which is why he’s just as bad, if not worse, than satoru.
treasurer: megumi fushiguro
there’s actually no au in which megumi isn’t shit because no matter how you square it, he gets it from his daddy. whether he’s raised by just satoru, just toji, or some au where he has them both in his life—the common denominator is that they’re there. if megumi ever did confide in either of them about hating your boyfriend, both satoru and toji would offer the same advice: “can’t you just get rid of him? what’s he got on you?” which is absolutely not how you should parent a child...
megumi might have his doubts about his personality, but he’s never been insecure about his appearance. it’s hard to be when he looks like that, but also when he’s had either toji or satoru (or god forbid, both) in his ear his entire life. he might have some fucked up attachment issues and skepticisms about the general population, but he has a very secure view of himself. so, to start, he’s not impressed by your boyfriend, and is honestly a little offended that you think this guy is objectively more attractive, or that you’re more romantically/sexually attracted to him that you are to megumi—or even, any of your other friends. he’d rather you start dating nobara or yuuji, at least he could live with that because those are pretty people, but your choice in boyfriends… he’s not trying to be mean but you could do better. you’ve done better.
secondly, megumi…. doesn’t care about him. at all. he’s not like satoru in that it brings him happiness to tease your boyfriend, he’s not like kento in that he skews your standards in his favor to nudge your boyfriend out of the picture; megumi literally does not care if this guy lives or dies. your boyfriend could drop dead and megumi would be like damn… that’s crazy… and move on with his life. which is a wild view to have of your best friend’s partner; and it also drives said partner to madness because why the fuck won’t your childhood friend acknowledge his existence?? but again, megumi doesn’t care that his apathy towards your boyfriend bothers him—megumi doesn’t see him, doesn’t know him, doesn’t care to know him, and it drives a wedge in your relationship.
thirdly, megumi is, canonically, a bully to people he doesn’t like. if your boyfriend gets angered enough to the point of confronting megumi, or whining to you, then it’s inconsequential to megumi to hurt him, and he won’t hold back. also on the reverse side, if there was a situation in which your boyfriend was getting hurt or needed help, then megumi is not helping. he’d probably just watch, or join in.
after a while, megumi grows past apathy into exhaustion. he thinks you should do better, he thinks you should know better, he thinks he’s better. and he is. he’ll show you that. (also, he is most likely to try to seduce you into infidelity because he doesn’t care about your boyfriend, so you’re single to him).
first secretary of not giving a fuck: yuuji itadori
jealousy is something that yuuji used to feel guilty about, guilty enough to drive him to confiding in satoru/nanami about his feelings and seeking advice for how to deal with it, because he thought being jealous meant that he was being a bad friend to you. but neither of his mentors are shit, so yuuji learns to adopt the age old mantra: all is far in love and war.
he’s better than satoru in the sense that he doesn’t antagonize your boyfriend, he’s better than kento in the sense that he doesn’t outwardly outclass your boyfriend’s efforts, he’s better than megumi in the sense that he does care about people outside of his immediate circle of friends, and as long as your boyfriend is a human, then yuuji will care about his life; but in all other senses, yuuji is surprisingly neutral, and in some cases, actually worse.
yuuji has two things to his advantage that he absolutely abuses: his likability, and his strength. when it comes to likability, he can just play the friendly, nice guy card. wrapping his arm around your shoulder, twirling you around in a hug, pinching your cheeks, playing with your hair, laying on your lap—he’s just yuuji, he’s just being friendly, he’s just being nice. it’d be pretty shitty of your boyfriend to tell him to be meaner to you, no? ^.^ yuuji is also sneaky with this in that he uses it to say otherwise mean things under the guise of a friendly disguise, and people rarely think otherwise of it. (“it’s fine if you go to the club with us if your bf doesn’t want you to. it’s not like you’re gonna marry him” “are those boxes giving you trouble, man? not surprising, haha!” “you guys didn’t break up yet? aw... i mean... well, no i meant that, but come on, let’s take shots!” all said with a smile that looks like this 😇😇 on his face)
in terms of strength, it’s an unbeatable challenge for your boyfriend—because even if he gets pissed off at yuuji being too close to you, too affectionate with you, too sweet to you, what’s he gonna do? because he certainly can’t beat yuuji in a fight—he couldn’t even beat yuuji in a race, he couldn’t even beat yuuji at mario kart, so there’s nothing for your boyfriend to do but shutup and wallow.
second secretary: yuuta okkotsu
does he need an explanation… does mr. “how rude, this is pure love” need an explanation… does mr. “i will kill itadori yuuji myself” need an explanation… does mr. “i won’t let sensei kill his best friend again, [i’ll do it myself]” need an explanation… hasn’t he already proved himself as the single most loyal and contently insane person on the planet…
once you have yuuta’s loyalty, you have it forever. not even for life, because he’d find a way to transcend space and time to protect you in the next one. even if, for some reason, you didn’t want it anymore, you have it; yuuta’s love is final sale, no exchanges or returns. the only reason he’s not ranked to be worse than megumi or yuuji is because yuuta has one grave disadvantage: he is not normally confrontational, and is the definition of anxious LOL. he’d feel bad if he didn’t make an effort to get to know your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he has to like him...
yuuta might know that he has feelings for you, but he’s honestly content with a platonic relationship if that’s how you choose to express it towards him. if you want to be friends, then he’s your friend; your love is that pure and vital to him, that he takes it in whatever form he gets it. he’s desperate for you in a way that has him completely at your whim; he doesn’t need reciprocity to love you, just knowing you, and knowing you accept his love is more than enough. keeping him around as friend, keeping him in your life, keeping him in your mind—that’s all yuuta could truly ever want. so, even when you have a boyfriend, it stings a bit at first, but as long as you still have the same amount of room in your life for yuuta, then he won’t do any harm to this guy.
unless: (a) your boyfriend makes it difficult for yuuta to have access to you, (b) your boyfriend outrightly ticks yuuta off, or (c) the worst option, your boyfriend does something to hurt you or make you sad, then he’s off yuuta’s radar completely. he won’t confront, and he won’t intervene. but if any of those conditions are not met, even for a second, then your boyfriend is as good as gone and there’s little anyone, yourself included, can do to stop him.
honorable board members: choso kamo, toji fushiguro, toge inumaki
everything about choso is on sight. it takes one wrong move, the slightest misstep, even a breath out of place and he will end your relationship and your boyfriend’s life if he has to. choso does not play when it comes to the people he loves, he won’t stand for you being hurt or mistreated in any way. there’s no subtle psychological warfare, there’s no shovel talk, there’s no blame game: choso sees something wrong, and he takes it upon himself to correct it. your partners have one chance to treat you right, or they’ll wish they hadn’t met choso to begin with.
toji doesn’t really chase people, but you have always been the exception. he hates to admit it, but he’ll follow you anywhere you go, not caring for whoever else you decide to bring along. if the journey of your life is a car ride, toji always calls shotgun, and he doesn’t really care who else gets in the backseat, until they ask him to get out of his—then there’s a problem. and he’s never once felt bad about turning some guy into a hitchhiker.
the greater good should be thankful that toge takes a voluntary vow of silence, because if he said even half of the things that were on his mind, the world might, quite literally, be set on fire. toge doesn’t care—not like megumi, him not caring isn’t apathy towards the life or death of other people, he just doesn’t care what reaction his actions pull out of people. you’ve told him it’s annoying when he pinches your cheeks and steals your boba, but that won’t stop him from doing it, esp not when you look so cute when you’re angry. yeah, he knows people get annoyed by his pranks, but that’s whatever. he knows your boyfriend hates when toge’s around you, but he doesn’t care. if it brings toge joy, he’ll do it. honestly, even if it doesn’t bring him joy, he’ll do it because he wants to. he’s not immune to consequences like satoru, he simply doesn’t care about them! he’ll just deal with it, he’s got a high tolerance for it—your boyfriend, however, seems like a weakling, so toge will simply outlast him. he’s outlasted all the others :)
#honestly depending on how you look at it megumi might actually be the worst but he can't be ranked higher than satoru#the student cannot surpass the master but gojo sure is proud when he tries!#i think i wrote about gojo giving the same advice to yuuta in declassified too LOL even tho there wasnt another love interest in the pictur#he's the true ringleader in all of this....#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk scenarios#jjk imagines#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo smut#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento x reader#yuuji itadori x reader#yuji x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta x reader#yuta x reader#choso x reader#toji x reader#toge x reader#jjk texts
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Never Love Another
It was no secret that when Jason came back he came back wrong. The violence and pit rage were the most obvious ones of course, but now that it had faded other little things had started to surface. He had noticed this deep loneliness and homesickness for something he couldn’t remember or name. He didn’t know what to do about it besides, well maybe try to find someone who could sooth the loneliness. But it wasn’t working, if it wasn’t for how bad he wanted a romantic connection he would have thought he was aromatic now because he never, Never felt a spark at all, with anyone.
He actually talked to Dick about it, and let him talk Jason into therapy, but that didn’t help, and when Tim found out about it the paranoid little shit started doing tests. And that was how fucking Bruce found out, and he was even more paranoid so they would not believe it was a coincidence or anything and more tests were done. No answers were found until Batman called in a favour from JLD, Jason tried to insist it wasn’t worth it but Batman said his happiness was the most important thing, which made Jason shut up and make a face like he’d bitten into a lemon.
Now he was just trying to avoid admitting that they were right. “What the fuck do you mean cursed?!” Jason demanded from Constantine who shrugged and lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one.
“I don’t know mate,” He said with a shrug, taking a drag. “While you were dead you must have pissed off some pretty powerful bastard because it’s Not a petty curse either, not the sort of thing I or Zatanna can break. Looks like it’s to ‘never love again’ or something like that, I don’t know it’s not exactly written in words.” He explained and Jason dropped his head into his hands with a groan.
Of course, why wouldn’t this happened? Honestly though as the literature nerd he was he had to think whoever had cursed him must have been of a similar temperament, given how melodramatic is was. He wished he could remember what the fuck he had done to get cursed like this?
“So how would we break the curse?” Batman asked, ever solution oriented.
“Don’t know Bats,” Constantine admitted with a one shoulder shrug. “I think you’d have to find whoever cursed him and convince them to lift it. They’re a seriously powerful denizen of the Infinite Realms so we could try a summoning but there’s no guarantee that is would work, and if not you’d have to go to them which would be veeery risky. I’m not sure it’d be worth it honestly, I mean it’s a bit of a blessing isn’t it? Not like our lifestyles really lend to romance,” He snickered and everyone ignored him.
“How long will it take to arrange a summoning,” Nightwing demanded with a frown, why he had to be here too Jason didn’t know but… he was privately a little grateful that he was.
“Mmm A couple of weeks, we have most of the stuff required and the unique ingredients aren’t that hard to find,” the magician hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll remind you, there’s no guarantee that it’s going to work,” he reminded and even though Jason hadn’t looked up he could practically sense the twin scowls Dick and Bruce were shooting John.
“We’re going to try it,” Batman growled and Constantine hummed.
“Sure, whatever you say, I’ll start setting it up.”
------
Those two weeks were plenty of time to panic about who it might be, what Jason might have done to cause this, and what the being might do if they answered the summons. They had a lot of preparations to do, but when Jason tried to say they shouldn’t do this Bruce and the others insisted that they needed to know ho had it out for Jason if just in case they decided to cause more problems. There was discussion about if Jason should be present, but he really wanted to be if this was happening, he wanted to see the monster that had cursed him.
Constantine and Zatanna were both there the day of, as well as Batman and Nightwing, and superman, just in case things went horribly wrong. The spell was… stressful for Red Hood, the portal it opened made him feel like he was staring into the Lazarus pits again, even if it was missing the feeling of rage.
It felt like they were all holding their breath for a few long minutes waiting to see if the summon would be answered. Jason was just starting to think that no one was going to answer when a white booted foot stepped through, followed quickly by the rest of the body.
Jason blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the being that had answered the summons, not because they were some incomprehensible monster, but for the opposite reason, because they looked so human. Not normal, their ashen skin, pointed ears, and white hair that disregarded gravity, made sure of that, but he looked human other then that. A head or so shorter then Jason, lean and agile looking with unusually wide hips and soft curves for a man. His ears were pierced three times, two having studs like planets and a set of dangly ones shaped like a sun and a moon which glinted in the light of the glowing crown on his head. It looked like ice that had trapped the northern lights within them, it was beautiful, it took his breath away.
He had a vague feeling that the others present were talking, but Jason and, it seemed, the spirit, were not hearing them. Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away from the creatures Lazarus green eyes, why did he feel so familiar.
“Jay,” The being breathes, a bright smile spreading across his face, revealing little fangs that shouldn’t have been so adorable. “How did you, you shouldn’t have called me, I don’t… You don’t remember me do you? You shouldn’t,” He breathed, the smile dropping as the initial joy at seeing Jason overtaken by worry.
“We want to know why you cursed my son!” Batman shouted, suddenly cutting through the odd, tunnel version they’d both been trapped in and sending them both reeling. Jason had been leaning forward and ended up stumbling.
“Oh,” The creature sounded, his brows furrowing as Jason finally looked around and noticed how Constantine was cowering.
“Batman! Don’t yell at the fucking king of the Infinite Realms!” Constantine practically squeaked. The king?! How had Jason pissed off the king?! “We’re so sorry for disturbing you your Majesty, please don’t destroy us,” the wizard said, sounding like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
The being still in the circle cackled and crossed his legs under him, sitting on air at the odd cape that looked like it was made of the night sky billowed behind him. “Don’t worry I’m not planning on it, honestly, I am happy to see you again Jaybird,” He said with a soft smile, his gaze going back to Jason like he wanted to drink him in. “You’ve grown so much pretty-bird, are you happy? Do you like being alive again?” He asked worriedly. “You’re always welcome back-“
Nightwing read that as a threat that this supposed King was going to kill Jason again and yanked him back, standing between Jason and the stranger, even though he was shorter and slimmer then Red Hood. “He’s not going anywhere! Why did you curse him?” Nightwing demanded again.
“It wasn’t a curse, it was a price,” Phantom said with a frown. “I would let him go, but not to love another.”
“Love, another?” Jason asked this time, his voice harsh and soft. God how his heart ached, why couldn’t he remember something that made him feel so much longing and pain?
“Another,” Danny said, his voice softening again. “While you were in my realm we were… Close, very close. But you couldn’t let go of life, you weren’t ready to give yourself to me, not fully,” Danny bit his lip for a moment. “It hurt, but I only wanted what was best for you Jay, so if you had unfinished business… well, I let you leave. I did! I let you go, but-but maybe I was selfish, I was going to be waiting decades for you and-and I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting that long only for you to have fallen in love again with someone in life and, even after dying and remembering me, choosing to stay with them! So that was the deal, you get to live again, but only if you don’t love again, and you come back to me when you’re done. You agreed.”
There was a long silence as everyone processed what the king had said, it was Constantine who reacted first, rounding on Jason. “You dated the King of the Infinite Realms!?” He demanded, flabbergasted.
“Ugh, just call me Danny, I’m the king sure but I don’t care much for the title,” The bring in front of them corrected with a grimace.
“Danny,” Nightwing said, holding out his hand in a sort of placating gesture. “Can you… change the price?” He asked uncertainly.
“NO!” Danny said instantly, his voice echoing in a way that made those present flinch. “No, the deal still stands. I let him leave my kingdom, but I won’t completely give him up. I can’t, I can’t,” Danny said and Jason could swear he saw Danny’s eyes glimmer with tears.
“It’s alright,” Jason said, softly as he could, Danny’s pain called to him in a way he couldn’t explain. “It’s just, I’ve been lonely, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something since I came back. I thought it was love, but now I think, I think it’s you. I’ve been homesick, for You,” He said, stepping closer again and holding out his hand. John yelped when Jason broke the circle, but he was being ignored.
Danny’s eyes widened in shock, then welled over with tears as he reached out and took Jason’s hand, his feet landing back on the ground as he stepped closer. “I’ve missed you too Jaybird, I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe,” He practically whispered. As he stepped over the line a white ring ran up and over his body, leaving a- well, for all appearances a human man with similar features and inverted colours, maybe a little younger then Jason. “I’m sorry you’ve been lonely, but I wanted to let you live your life. If you want, I could visit more? I would be happy to put in the work to, start over, let you get to know me in this life?” He laced their fingers together, taking Jason’s other hand as well, standing chest to chest and looking up at him through dark lashes, framing beautiful clear blue eyes.
“I would love that,” Jason breathed. Startled by a sound of disbelief behind him, he’d forgotten Nightwing was there and he glanced back. “What? It solves the problem of me being unable to love, it turns out I was just trying to love the wrong people.
#dead on main#danny phantom#Jason/Danny#jason todd#batman#dc x dp#nightwing#fanfiction#john constantine#Jason and Danny fell in love while he was dead#Danny made a compromise#ghost king Danny#this isn't edited#I'll edit it and post it on AO3 later
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Headcanons for when aot men get jealous? Maybe seeing reader and someone else spending time together and getting agitated and then dragging them away - ‘Pay attention to me not them.’ sort of vibe.
💢 aot men & jealously
characters included: eren, armin, connie, jean, reiner, bertolt, erwin and levi.
notes: this ask had me floored.
☆ eren jaeger
he caught you and reiner talking to each other AGAIN.
this has happened one too many times and eren finally loses it.
he’d definitely say something like “what about spending time with your boyfriend instead of him, hm?”
very temperamental about the whole thing..
one second he’ll be furious, next he’ll be sad, next he’ll be happy you’re back to spending time with each other
but mostly angry over it.
he storms over and pushes reiner away from you as he comes between the both of you, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing with MY partner?” eren asked threateningly “woah eren we were just—” but before reiner could say anything, eren grabbed your arm and stormed off with you.
☆ armin arlert
you and jean are very close friends
too close, your boyfriend may say.
armin usually lets things slide at first, he doesn’t want to come off as overbearing or jealous
also you and jean are just friends at the end of the day, right?
but one day, you and jean are laughing away as usual and armin asks what’s so funny and you say..
“oh, it’s an inside joke. you wouldn’t get it.”
after you said this, you continued to laugh. but armin had reached his breaking point, he slammed his hands on the dinner table and rose from his seat turning to face you, “y/n. get up.” your smile drops as you also get up from your chair. you two walk out the dinner hall. armin quickly speaks up “pay attention to me, not him.”
☆ connie springer
you and berty boy were spending wayyy too much quality time together.
making you spend less time with your own boyfriend!
connie obviously took this to heart and had to do what a man’s gotta do
aka pull a prank on bert.
every single day for like 2 weeks, connie would do something just to cause him inconvenience.
just like hiding his things right before practice, stealing food off his plate, replacing his sugar with salt, messing up his laundry etc.
but now what was connie going to do with you? after he pulled one of his pranks on bert he saw you HELPING him so not only do you spend all your time with him but now you’re ruining connie’s revenge plan? nope, not happening. he slams bert’s door open not taking any notice that the both of you are trying to talk to him, he just grabs you and pulls you into the hall. “last time i checked, i was your boyfriend. so, stop acting like bert is.”
☆ jean kirstein
there was someone in the survey corps who clearly had a thing for you
but you didn’t seem to notice. supposedly.
anyways, you guys would spend quite a bit of time together especially during expeditions.
jean obviously took offence to this and what does he do?
showboats🗣️🗣️
while on an expedition, you and this guy were chatting away, killing titans, all the usual stuff. but little did you know, from the back, jean was watching all of this happening and he was getting pissed off. his anger built up so much that when it came to killing the titans be whipped out half of them on his own. everyone was super impressed and the girls started complimenting you for having such a strong, brave boyfriend.
he pulls you aside afterwards and says “that was because of you and him, you know? so, you better start paying more attention to me now.”
☆ reiner braun
there was this one guy from garrisons who adored you!
and you thought he was sweet and you’d always try and catch up with him when you could.
which reiner would say was too often.
reiner would definitely intimidate this guy with how huge he is.
it’d be intimidating even reiner wasnt massive because he was just a garrison.
he’d pump his chest out more and wrap his big arms around you in front of him to prove how much bigger and better he was.
and when it came to you, he was so mad. as you stepped away from the garrison guy, he took his arm off of you and grabbed you by the shoulders turning you to face him. “hey. you better stop talking to that fucking whimp. i’m your boyfriend.”
☆ bertolt hoover
you and connie were super close.
you both trained together, love pulling pranks and just bounce off each other so well.
some people sometimes even think you’re a couple..!
but you already have a boyfriend.
bert doesn’t like to speak up about how he feels for a while until something really tips him over the edge.
bert always used to ignore how close you and connie were, he was too shy to say anything in the first place but he also didn’t want to ruin your guys’ relationship by being jealous. that was until someone asked if you and connie were a couple. that was his final straw. he calmly walked over to you but grabbed you with a grip you wouldn’t expect from bertolt. you found yourself outside with him where he looks you dead in the eyes “unless you actually want connie to be your boyfriend, you better start paying more attention to me, y/n.”
☆ levi ackerman
you mostly worked in the offices after a bad injury.
and there was this one librarian who really took a liking to you.
but, you’re already coupled up with mr. ackerman.
levi sees you guys talking all the time. sees that you’re in the library quite a lot even when you don’t need to be.
because of this he delegated menial work to him and even you, when he’s feel mean.
but when he catches you STILL talking while doing the tasks he set for you, he loses it.
you got distracted from your task when your little librarian friend starts discussing this ancient book he discovered the other day and as you were chatting away, you heard the door creak.. you jump out of your skin, trying to return to your task but it was too late. levi had already seen you. he calmly marched towards you and pulls you away to the other end of the library “is that what i said your task was, y/n? come here, i got a better task for you like helping your boyfriend. not this cretin.”
( however at the end of the week when things were all cleared up and you ask him about it he just says “me? jealous? no, i wasn’t.” )
☆ erwin smith
you and mike were working a little too closely lately.
erwin saw the way mike looked at you longingly
at first he thought it was nothing, he wasn’t even jealous!
until mike starts getting more physical
a shoulder brush here, a slight hand touch there
after this, he fully loses it.
erwin side eyes you and mine when he sees his hand gently brush up against yours, it could be pure accident but erwin couldn’t care less. he had gone too far. he marched over tall and mighty and swiftly stole you from mike “i’m the only man who gets to do that to you, you hear me?”
#anime and manga#attack on titan#attack on titan headcanons#aot#aot headcanons#aot imagines#aot angst#aot jealous#jealous#angst#shingeki no kyojin#snk x y/n#snk x reader#eren headcanons#armin headcanons#jean headcanons#reiner headcanons#bertolt headcanons#levi headcanons#erwin headcanons#jean kirschtein headcanons#eren jaeger#armin x reader#reiner braun#bertolt hoover#levi ackerman#levi x reader#erwin smith#aot erwin
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the hand that feeds
pairing: (mizu x fem!reader)
fandom: blue eye samurai
pronouns: she/her
type: smut
warning: dom!mizu and bratty!reader. This is pure filth and I don’t apologize for that. Spanking, choking, object penetration there’s probably more but you get the gist
a/n: juban is the underslip when wearing a kimono. haori is the outer robe of the men’s outfit.
aa/n: tagging @firelillys and @bxllamiizu both of y’all inspired me to write this. also tagging @angelltheninth
word count: 2019
date: december 20, 2023
masterlist
She dragged you away deep into the forest.
She was angry. You’ve seen her mad before but this time she was pissed.
“I told you how many times to stop complaining? And what do you do? You keep fucking complaining.”
She was tugging on your arm, you slightly liked the pain, and you hoped there was going to be a bruise around your wrist when she was done with you.
You finally stopped in a clearing
“So what do you have to say for yourself?” She slightly pushed you away.
You stumbled a bit but caught yourself.
“Hm?”
“I’m. Cold.” You say sternly. All this started because you kept complaining about the temperature.
“You knew this when you tagged along.”
“I didn’t know it’d be this fucking cold.” You mutter to yourself.
Swiftly she drew her blade and cut the belt that held your kimono together. Your juban was what was exposed. Just that thin slip of fabric was what kept you from becoming frostbitten.
She put the blade back into the holster, “How cold are you now?”
“Freezing,” you said above a whisper, holding yourself for some warmth.
“Would you like to be warmed up?” She stepped close to you, you could feel her breath on your face like a slight blanket on your cheeks.
You nod at her question.
She removes the kimono off your shoulders and it falls to the ground. Now just in your juban, she could truly see how cold you were, your nipples were peaked and that sight of you could make her go down on her knees but she wasn’t in a very giving mood at the moment.
Harshly she went between your thighs and her finger ever so lightly went between your slick.
“Hmm, no undergarments? No wonder you’re fucking cold. Or maybe, this was your plan the whole time. To piss me off and get me to fuck you.”
You stand there in the cold of the forest and nod. It was pathetic really but she was enjoying every second of it.
She looked down at you and her piercing blue eyes had a tinge of red in them.
“On your knees, dove.”
‘Dove’, that was her nickname for you, and every time she said it it made you weak in the knees.
You slowly sank to the ground kneeling on your kimono that was the barrier between the snowy ground and your skin.
You looked up at her and she towered over you.
“Now turn around.”
You obeyed every order and shuffled on the ground to have your back facing her.
She then kneeled behind you pressing her chest against your back. That touch alone made you moan and your head fell back into the crook of her neck.
Her hands then travel up your juban and tug at the string exposing you completely. Then her fingers trail up your stomach to your breasts slowly rubbing your nipples between her fingers.
Soft moans fall from your lips.
“Oh is my little dove enjoying this?” She cooed at you.
You nod whimpering at her touch.
“Well, I don’t want you to enjoy it.” Her voice was stern and gritty.
The hand that was touching you quickly went up to your throat gripping tightly and caught you off guard.
She then drew her blade again holding the blade closely to the two of you, your breath was staggered and was fogging up the metal weapon.
With a clean swipe the tree that was in front of you was soon just a stump.
“Bend over, dove.”
You nod and bend over on the freshly chopped stump. The white fabric of your robe rose as you bent over.
You were excited and nervous about what Mizu had planned for you.
Lost in your thoughts were broken from the harsh stinging from her hand landing on your ass.
You yelp at the sensation and shoot a look back at her.
She glared at you, “Eyes forward dove.”
You look back forward and another blow comes down on the same place. Only two smacks in and you already couldn’t handle it.
“Do you know how many times you complained about the cold?”
You shake your head.
“Thirteen times in ten minutes. So that means I’m going to do the same to you and you’re not going to say a word.”
You nod slowly.
Another smack landed on the opposite cheek giving the other side a break but it was short-lived when she smacked you hard again.
You looked behind you wanted to see the damage she caused so far and you knew by the end of this you were going to have welts.
She made you count, on the verge of tears with each blow. It was painful but you wanted this. You knew that with each smack it was full of love.
She was finally done and then felt her lips trailing down your back. The fabric of your robe was so thin that it felt like there was nothing between the two of you. Her hands then caressed your puffed abused cheeks.
Her kiss then went up to your neck and then to your ears, “I still don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.”
You whimper at her words, your hand slowly goes in search of hers. Once you find it you bring her hand up to your lips slowly kissing her fingers putting them into your mouth sucking on them.
She chuckles at your actions, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
You slowly turn to look at her, “I was um…”
“Oh did you think you were going to be fucked by my fingers?” Her chuckle was deep at mocking, “Oh my little dove do you think you even deserve my fingers?”
You look at her confused, then your eyes follow down to her other hand and it lays on the handle of her sword. You gulp and you look back up at her and she is grinning.
You bit your lip at just the thought of her using the handle on you and you instantly got wet.
“Turn back around,” she whispered.
You do as you are told and once shuffling around you bend over the stump, but it was not to her standards. She gripped your hips and pushed you into the stump. Your pelvic bone was on the outer edge of the stump and she pushed you hard into it giving you small cuts against the wood.
You slowly creep your head to look at her, she unsheathed her sword, stuck the blade between her slightly spread legs, and looked down at the handle and a lob of her spit dangled down on the bound leather.
Her hand then rubbed the spit in and he started to inch it towards your core spreading your lips slowly.
The sensation and the thought of what was happening and what was going to happen was reeling in your head.
The handle itself was 10 inches. You haven’t had anything like that in you for a while and were nervous about how you were going to handle it.
With the handle getting enough of your slick she parted your lips and put the tip in.
You hissed at the feeling, it may have been lubed enough but the soft leather with its ridges was a whole new sensation.
She slowly sunk it in you, not wanting to hurt you or make you uncomfortable but enough to make you feel good.
You then feel yourself hitting her fingers which were a makeshift stopper for you. You were slightly disappointed, you wanted more to go in. You started to wriggle but she stopped you.
Her free hand firmly gripped your hip, “Oh now dove, you aren’t supposed to be enjoying this. I could go rough with you…”
Your eyes lit up hoping that she would.
“But I know you like it rough. So for your punishment, I’m going to go slow. Painfully slow.”
You pout.
“Now no pouting. You’re going to be grateful for whatever I give you, yeah? Fucking grateful.” She pulls your hair at the last sentence causing you to moan.
She then slides it in and out of you slowly, moving her hips with the same motion. She pictures that she is fucking you. Every stroke the handle does in you she imagines that it's her doing that to you.
While she’s in her head you're aching for more so you snake your hand down to your clit rubbing your bundle of nerves.
Thinking about her roughly going at you got you going faster and Mizu noticed your change of breath and that caught her attention.
You were close. So close, until she snatched your hand away and pinned it behind your back.
“Did I tell you you can fucking touch yourself, my little dove?” She seethed.
You lost your hand placement when she pinned you, your upper body was now fully on the stump.
“Hm?” She was waiting for an answer.
“N-no, I'm-I’m sorry Mizu.”
“I don’t believe you. But I don’t think that matters that much at the moment, since you want it rough that’s exactly what I’m going to give you. Gonna have you begging me to stop and I not going to because you did ask for permission and were being a fucking brat.”
Her words made you wet and she felt it when she leaned back from being pressed against you and saw you were practically soaking the handle.
“Fucking pathetic.” She said.
Her hand went down to the base of the blade and steadied herself while continuing to hold on to your pinned arm.
Without wanting she began to violently thrust into you causing you to swing your other around wanting some sort of touch from her.
She was too busy and out of arms to swat your other hand away.
You were a mumbling mess, drool came from your mouth smearing on your cheek and the flat wood surface.
“M-Mizu-u-u,” you cry to her.
“Yes, my little dove?”
You forgot what you were going to say, she was fucking you dumb.
She laughed, “Oh my little dove having a good time?”
You nod, gripping her sleeve from behind.
You were close to your orgasm and she could tell.
You were taking the handle very well practically swallowing it whole and she kept hitting your sweet spot.
“Fu-u-uck Mizu,” tears were streaming down your cheeks, freezing almost when they hit the winter air.
With one more thrust, she holds it in you and you squirt all over the handle and her hand.
You were breathing heavily, legs shaking and she slowly took the handle out, wiped it off, and placed it back in her holster.
You couldn’t move. You were still bent over the stump.
“Dove? Did I work you too hard?”
She bent down near your face wiping your matted hair off your face, petting the tears away.
I shake my head smiling slightly at her.
“It was perfect.” You whisper, “I just can’t get up.”
She chuckles slightly. “Let me help you.”
She picks you up and then seats you down on the stump. You hissed at the pain you had forgotten from your ass but pulled through as she picked up your soaked from the snow kimono.
She noticed you shaking from the cold. She takes off her haori and places it on you.
You look up at her, mouthing a thank you.
“I'll tell you what, once we get to the next town I'll buy you a new kimono.” She smiles down at you.
You smile back holding my hand up from her to help me stand, “A pretty one?”
You lean on her and we both walk back to where our cart was, “Yes my dove. The prettiest one,” she chuckles
You smile giddy and then look down at my hands and groan, “I got splinters in my hand! God this is gonna take forever to get out!”
She rolled her eyes smiling as she dragged you back over to the clearing.
On to round two before you annoy her more.
♡please like comment and/or reblog♡
wanna be tagged? (X)
#lovelybean#blue eye samurai#mizu#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu bes#mizu x reader#mizu x you#mizu x y/n#wlw#lgbtqia#mizu x fem!reader
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GIRLIE PLS I NEED MORE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE x PRICE 😭😭
Instead of starting every ask response with “sorry it took me so long to get to this I suck” I’m just going to issue a blanket statement that I have like 45+ asks in my inbox rn and I get so overwhelmed looking at them that I just ignore them until I need to write something. I love you all for messaging me I love hearing your ideas and compliments please don’t stop sending them just bear with me as I sift through them. <3
Also- I got legit death threats on my first post like this. I’d like to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that this is a LEGAL AGE GAP. It’s not grooming, it’s not predatory, it’s ENTIRELY LEGAL. You’re early twenties. He’s mid-to-late-thirties. Please do not bite my head off.
Anyway I’m back on my Price and his young housewife bullshit below the cut. Xoxoxo
Here’s the OG post if you need a refresher
Mdni. Nsfw below cut.
There’s this scene in the MW3 campaign where Price and Farah are talking about where she got the missiles from and he’s trying to shoulder up with her, but she just shuts him down in the end. (Like always I hope you’ll trust me. Implicitly) (John Price the man that you are!!!!!!) and I really think that’s the household dynamic. He’s always the biggest in the room, but he’s got this incredible reverence and respect for women who can out-bitch him. Bends his rigid spine BACKWARDS for you. Would move mountains if you’d only ask.
Doesn’t always have to be serious things. Like maybe you’ve made friends with some moms in the neighborhood (it’s a point of pride for him that they’re all minimum 5 years older than you.) and they all go to this obscenely expensive Pilates class at six in the morning. You mention in passing that you’re signing up and the suburban white dad in him makes his ears perk.
“‘N how much ‘s this class going to cost me?”
“Dunno. Think it just goes on the account.”
“Course. Gym membership doesn’t cost enough as it is.”
And then all it takes is him seeing you in a matching workout set for all of his protest to die down. For SURE makes a comment about how he ‘didn’t know it’d be this worthwhile’
Loosely following that point, I think any real arguments get hostile very quickly. He’s not so egotistical that he won’t apologize, but I’m certain that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to that point. He can hold a grudge unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Borders heavily on immature when the two of you are in the thick of things. Starts shit just to start shit. (Secretly because he just loves makeup sex. Would rather eat you out until you’re sobbing than actually say the words “I’m sorry.”)
Having thoughts about him bringing you to some military ball. The both of you dressing up and sliding into the car that was sent for you just to sit on opposite ends of the backseat and not speak a single word. He burns through a cigar in record time and you toss back a few glasses of champagne. You both put on appearances getting out of the car. Hook your hand around his bicep while he shoves you inside with his hand on the small of your back. Hissing nasty quips back and forth about making this quick. Few hellos. Show your faces and then you can get home and get away from each other. Putting on appearances only goes so far, though, because when John is pissed- everyone feels it. Sucks the life out of a room and replaces it with an eerie feeling like a bomb’s about to go off.
He leaves you alone with a few other wives. Pulled away by Laswell with a promise of a ‘quick’ meeting. He comes back half an hour later fuming when he sees that somehow you’ve been pulled away from where he left you and found company chatting with his boys at the bar.
He gruffs some greetings before dragging you away by the arm so roughly that you have to stifle a yip.
“Are we leaving?”
“No.”
“So what is it, John? You’re making everyone think we’re miserable.”
“We are miserable.”
He’s yet to stop yanking you away. You have to do an awkward half-jog to follow him down a short hallway just outside the washrooms.
“Christ, would you just-“
“You look like a slag in that dress.”
He about throws you straight into the corner at the end of the hall. Muscles in his jaw ticking under the force that he’s using to grit his teeth.
“Sorry?”
His lips are brushing the shell of your ear. Bullying you further back into the wall. You’re entirely taken aback by his ferocity; especially because he usually prefers you wear something much more revealing than this. Some twisted point of pride, him seeing all the men your age drooling over you even after knowing you’re on his arm.
“Ought to let the boys pass you around. See if that won’t sort out that fucking attitude of yours.”
Theres some more protest from you, but it was entirely useless given how worked up he was. He ends up making good on his threat and shoving you into Ghost’s side when he brings you back out. He says something, but you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. Though you assume it’s a half-warning, half-explanation by the way Ghost snakes an arm loosely around your waist and gives a sharp nod. You get off relatively easy all things considered because Ghost is the only one smart enough not to take Price’s words at face value and sneak you away to some coat closet. That’s a permission granted only when John was present and in his right mind.
I cannot stress enough how much it gets him off to see you pregnant. Not like sexually, but he is nothing if not a glutton when it comes to feeding his ego. Likes it when you wear shirts that hug your swollen belly tight so he can see exactly how much your body is changing. Even better if they’re crop-tops that show off the skin that’s now littered with stretch-marks from growing his babies.
I have been saying this, but just to make it clear, he wants a small army of children. Like enough to have one of those trashy reality TV shows about how many kids you have. (In reality I’m getting 4/5 kids in total vibes) Loves coming home from work and seeing you carefully stirring a big pot on the stove while bouncing a baby on your hip, pulling a clingy toddler around on your leg, and situating your school-aged kids with their homework at the table.
But he most definitely hires a live-in nanny to help you out. Knows it’s not fair to leave you with that kind of responsibility. But also it just makes him so hot to see you mothering his kids that he needs to be able to take you away and not have to scramble to find something to occupy the kids.
Makes the nanny take over bath time more often than not so the two of you can take a bubble bath yourselves. He loves the casual intimacy of pouring two glasses of wine and having thirty or forty minutes to yourselves.
Having this visual of you before you’ve started having kids sitting in the tub after being strangely quiet all night. He offers you a heavily-poured glass of red and you’re a little glassy-eyed and staring up at him but making no move to take it.
“You alright, doll?”
“Mm?”
“Said you alright? Don’t want a drink?”
A long moment of silence from you. Long enough for him to perch on the rim of the tub and gently tip you up to look at him by putting a few fingers under your chin.
“John, I think I’m pregnant.”
“So no drink, then.”
#moongreenlight#moongreenlightwrites#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#141 headcanons#drabble#captain john price x reader#captain john price#captain price#price cod#cod price#john price#price x young housewife!reader
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Persistent. (Ghost x Reader.)
!CW!, NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, rough sex, ghost being very rough with reader, (lemme know if I missed any.)
(Summary); Reader and Ghost are in a secret relationship and when Keegan joins task force 141, he takes a liking to Ghosts secret lover.
I wanted to do the bar fight like requested but I would feel too bad for my bby Keegan. :(
You can find the asks for this or similar here here here here
Ghost lifts his mask up to the bridge of his nose, smile playing at his lips. The room is pitch black, and he’s got you pinned up against an old desk. “Simon- you’re going to get us caught.” You giggle. He leans in, lips sliding over the skin on your neck. “We’re fine. Just as long as you stay quiet f’me, right?” He smirks, grasping your thighs and lifting you up onto the desk. “Ugh.. I’ll try my best.” You roll your eyes as he moves himself between your legs.
Meet in my office. 10 minutes.
Both of your radios go off at the same time, pulling a groan from the both of you. “This isn’t over.” He smirks. He pulls his mask down, helping you down from the desk. The both of you creep over to the door, when the coast is clear, you walk out into the hallway, trying your best to make yourselves look like you weren’t up to no good just minutes ago. “What’s going on Captain?” You ask as you step into his office, Ghost following close behind. “We’re welcoming a couple new recruits to the task force tomorrow morning. I want everyone out there to make them feel welcome. Am I clear?” He says. Everyone nods their heads. “Alright.”
Everyone agrees and he sends everyone on their ways. It’s just about time to turn in for the night, and you rush to your room to prepare yourself for your nightly visit from Ghost. The excitement floods through you, as it always does as you wait patiently for your secret lover to emerge. This would never get old. The both of you had been dating in secret for a while now. You knew how much trouble you could get into if anyone found out you were dating while on base and neither of you wanted that. You decided it’d be best if you kept it a secret. You finished cleaning up for the night and climbed into your bed, turning over just in time to hear the click of your door. A smile growing on your face.
-
The next morning, you and Ghost are equally as exhausted. The nightly visits that sometimes lasted hours kept you both awake. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but you were both too distracted with each other to care. The chopper was landing right now, and you and Ghost are making small talk. When Ghost sees the familiar man walk down the ramp, he smiles behind his mask. He greets everyone and when he makes eye contact with Ghost, he makes his way over. “Ghost, long time no see.” He reaches a hand out. Ghost takes it. “Same to you, Keegan. Been a long time.” He laughs. “Yeah. And who’s this?” Keegan smiles. Reaching a hand out. “I’m Y/N.” You take his hand, shaking it. “Real pretty name, for a real pretty girl.” He winks. You can see Ghost stiffen up immediately, nervousness flooding through your veins.
This was going to be a long few weeks.
-
Ghost had had enough. Not only was he keeping a massive secret that was hard to hide, because god only knows how bad he wants to hold your hand and kiss you in public, but now it was like he was in a competition. Keegan spotted the way you both acted around each other and asked Ghost right to his face if there was something going on. Ghost seethed behind his mask, having to lie and say, no. That you weren’t dating. And seeing the outline of a smug grin on Keegan’s face upon hearing you were single. It pissed Ghost off to his core. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to throw Keegan up against a wall and tell him off. Tell him how you were his and his only, but that would ruin the secret. So he had no choice.
Every time Keegan greeted you in that flirty, sick voice. Ghost felt searing hot lava pumping through his veins. Getting up and walking away. Sometimes Keegan would spot you comforting Ghost, which led to him asking more questions, which lead to more denial from both you and Ghost, which lead to even more jealous flooding Ghosts brain.
Ghost was staring at himself in the mirror. The amount of jealousy he’d been feeling lately was too much to bare. He was just about to reach his breaking point. Ghost finishes up cleaning and walks out of his room. Taking a deep breath. He needed to make his way to the mess hall. Needed to see you. He’s watching his feet, not paying too much attention to anything going on around him, but he happens to look up. He clenches his fists through his gloved hands, teeth gritted so hard he’s surprised none of them have broken yet. Keegan is leaning up against the door frame, pinning you between himself and the frame. “You’re real pretty you know?”
“Keegan I-“ you go to talk but he laughs. “I know.. you’re worried about getting into trouble right? There’s no secret I can’t keep.”
Ghost clears his throat and this makes Keegan pull back immediately. “He bothering you?” He asks you. “Uh.. no.” You laugh awkwardly. Keegan was nice. Very sweet and flirty and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He really did think you were single. He had no clue what went on behind closed doors. “Dinner starts in 5, excuse me.” Ghost fakes the nice voice to push passed Keegan, you following behind him awkwardly. You sat at the same table as Ghost and to Ghosts complete dismay, Keegan sat down next to you. “So, heard Soap and everyone planned on going to the pub tonight, you guys going?” Keegan asks. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Ghost?” You look at him, pleading eyes. “Yeah of course.” His voice is gruff and if looks could kill, Keegan would be a pile of flesh. Ghost felt a little like an asshole, he knows it’s not Keegan’s fault but he still feels an overwhelming sense of jealousy. A sigh leaves your lips when Keegan stands up to go find something to drink. “Maybe we should just tell him?” You look at Ghost, “that’ll get us into trouble Y/N. We can’t.”
“Yeah well. That’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one he’s trying to put his charm on. If this goes on for too much longer, I’m worried it might start working.” Your attempt to taunt Ghost works. It gets right under his skin and settles there. “Ha. Ha. So funny.” Ghost rolls his eyes. Earning a laugh from you. “I’m kidding. You’re my one and only big boy.” You pat his shoulder as you walk away. Going to clean up for the night.
-
Everyone is sitting inside the pub, having a good time. You’re sitting at the bar, the others are playing pool, darts, or flirting with some of the foreign women. Ghost is playing pool when he sees Keegan finish his game of darts, walking over and sitting down next to you. Ghost is so pissed off, it makes him lose his game of pool against Soap. Soap notices how rigid Ghost goes, eyes staring at the bar. Soap glances over, spotting Keegan talking you up. “Gotta piss.” Ghost lays the pool cue down and walks off. Soap waits a minute before following. Ghost is washing his hands when he walks in. “What’s going on?” Soap asks. “What do you mean?” Soap scoffs. “I mean the death stares you keep giving Keegan every time he talks to Y/N.” He laughs. “You think I’m blind, Riley?” Soap crosses his arms. “There’s nothing going on.” Ghost rolls his eyes. “Ghost, give it up. You either like Y/N or there’s something going on between the two of you. Either way, there’s another guy out there putting the moves on your girl and your fear of getting into trouble is just letting it happen.” Soap hisses, fake pain moving across his face. “Whatever, mind your own business, Johnny.” He pushes passed him, making his way back to the bar. Stopping a few feet away when he hears you giggle. “Ouch.” He hears Soap behind him.
“Y/N. You about ready to go?” Ghost asks. “Oh uh.. yeah sure.” You smile. “Woah, why don’t you stay a while? I can walk you back to base.” Keegan places a hand on your thigh. Ghost is quick to intervene this time. He takes your hand, helping you up. “Sorry mate, she usually walks back with me.” Keegan stands up. “Why do you keep trying to wiggle yourself between us whenever I make a move on her ah? You jealous or something?” Ghost rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, what is this? High school?” You’re blushing, nervousness flooding through you. Keegan is strong and can hold his own, but Ghost is Ghost.
“I mean seriously? What the hell?” Keegan rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. Since you’re so curious, me and Y/N have been dating in secret for about.. 8 months now? I was keeping it a secret so that I didn’t get her into trouble but thanks to you, that’s out the window.” Keegan’s eyes widen. “Oh god.. I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Ghost sighs, and you look down. “It’s okay Keegan, you didn’t know.” You blush. “Let’s go Y/N.” Ghost tugs on your arm. You follow behind him. “Jesus Ghost, couldn’t hold it together for a minute longer?” You groan. He rolls his eyes. “He fucking touched your thigh Y/N, that’s a no from me.” He seethes. The walk back to the base is short and Ghost marches right into his room, you following behind him. “You can’t be mad at him, he had no idea!” You throw your hands up. “I can be mad at whoever I fucking want to.” He crosses his arms. “Uh.. no? You can’t? You kind’ve need a reason.” You say sarcastically, the smug look on your face drives Ghost crazy.
“You’re acting like a brat.” He growls. “No I’m not! I’m being serious Ghost.” He closes the gap between the both of you, pushing you harshly back onto his bed. A dark chuckle leaves his lips. “First you tease me and say his charm is working and to get him away from you, than you get mad at me for doing what you wanted me to do.” He breathes. Climbing over you and straddling your hips. Pinning your arms above your head. “Why don’t you make up your fucking mind hm?” He growls. Lowering his face into yours. He hears you swallow hard. He locked the door behind him, so he’s not worried about being caught. Your silence makes him laugh. “Had so much to say earlier hm? Nothing now?” He growls. He lifts himself off of you, forcing you to roll over onto your stomach. Wasting no time to practically tear your clothes off of you. “You’re mine.” He growls right at your ear. The deep grumble in his chest has heat pooling between your legs. “Maybe you forgot that. Maybe I need to show you who you belong to.”
Him thrusting right into you has a gasp leaving your lips, clutching hard at the blanket on his bed. He wastes not one second before pounding his hips into yours, wrapping a hand in your hair and pushing your face into the bed as he fucks you from behind. You can’t keep back the moans falling from your lips, and at this point, Ghost doesn’t care who hears. He repositions himself, tugging your hair until you’re up on all fours. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours is lewd, followed by the moans leaving your lips. It sounds like something straight out of a porno. Your skin is already beat red, scalp numb from him tugging at your hair. You’re sure you’ll have his handprints imprinted into the skin on your ass as he spanks you harshly. Thankful for him rubbing and soothing the skin after each hit. He hammers his hips into yours, balls slapping against your clit with each hard thrust he takes. He talks more than he usually would, which is different for you. He’s growling out, taking a tight grasp on your hips. He’s trying to keep himself together but the way you’re wrapping around him is almost too much. He grasps your hair, pulling you up until your back is flush with his chest and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to him. The new angle has you whimpering out. “Who do you belong to sweetheart?”
“You- You Simon!” You moan out. A slap on your ass has you crying out. “Who’s?”
“Y- yours!”
“What?”
“Ghost!” The nickname falling from your lips in a cry is everything he needs to keep pounding you. You’re his, only his. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, earning a mewl from your lips at the stimulation. “Such a good girl, knowing who you belong to. I reward good girls.” He growls, lowering his other hand to rub circles against your clit. They’re quick circles and he has your high building up too quickly. “Oh fuck- Simon-“ you cry, trying to grasp his hand in an attempt to make him slow his circles. “Want this tight pussy to cum on my cock.” He growls into your ear. “Nobody will fuck you like I can, you know it. I know it. And there’s one more way I can show everyone that hm?” He chuckles a dark chuckle. “What- what do you mean?” You whimper. “Gonna fill this pussy.” His laugh is dark. You know he’s not kidding. “Simon- you have to pull out.” You whimper. “No. You’re mine. It’s time I make it official.” He groans. He slides out of you, helping you move until you’re on your back. He moves himself between your legs. “Rub your clit, and don’t stop until you cum.” You nod your head, a gasp leaving your lips when he enters you again. The thought of him filling you up is exciting. Something that was so forbidden until now. You almost want to thank Keegan for this.
His thrusts are sloppy and hard, the squelch coming from your sex is filthy, and it eggs him on. “Simon- I’m so close.” You cry out, his cock is sliding perfectly up into your spongy spot. You can’t take it anymore. The knot that’s built up in your belly comes undone and Simons eyes widen when you clamp down around him. Grunts leaving his lips as your pussy milks his cock of everything he has to give. He thrusts a couple times to work you through your highs but the sensitivity has him stalling. He collapses on top of you, cock still inside of you as he pants, trying to come down from his high. “Bloody hell you feel good.” He groans. Your cheeks are bright red, and Simon can feel the way you’re throbbing around his cock. Overstimulated and overwhelmed. “You’re mine. Don’t ever forget that.” He growls, kissing you hard, cupping your cheeks so that you can’t move away from him. “I’m yours Simon. All yours.” You laugh when he finally pulls away. He slides himself out of you with a groan and a gasp leaves your lips when you feel his cum seeping back out of you. His eyes are wide as he watches it. He knows this will be the first of many times he gets to see that.
“We’re going to have so much explaining to do tomorrow.” You giggle.
“Oh yeah we are.”
#call of duty mw2#soap mw2#cod mw2#ghost mw2#captain john price#price mw2#alejandro mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#mw2 smut#keegan x reader#keegan p russ#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley
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