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moondirti · 16 days

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simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway.#simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

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milfsloverblog · 8 months

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Hii!! I have a Larissa x reader request. Larissa is in her late forties, has a shit ton of money (cause that woman screams money) and she's also a tad lonely, so she decides to find herself a sugar baby and that's where reader comes in, they are broke, almost finishing college and in need of quick money. I really just need this woman to pamper me with money and love and good sex, lots of mommy kink and out of the bedroom dominance pretty pleeeeeaaassseeee

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 1. (Next part)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Anon, I loved this request so much I’ve decided to turn it into a multiple chapter fic. We’re mostly setting the scene in this chapter, but I added a tiny bit of smut. Thanks for the request, enjoy!! <3

You didn’t feel very proud as you clicked on the “sign up” button on the app your best friend told you about. You typed in your information - Name, age, height, weight, eye and hair colour. It did feel like you were only a product to be bought but it was what you were looking for, after all.

You filled in the “looking for” section - women, preferably. You didn’t care much about height or weight or anything like that, really, although you hoped you would be able to at least find someone attractive. But you couldn’t afford to be too picky.

It did feel like signing up for a normal dating app until you reached the “monthly income” criteria. This was by far the most important criterion, the one that had led you to this website, and yet you didn’t know what to answer. You stared at your phone screen for a moment before eventually typing in “Minimum $3500”. It felt like a correct amount, enough for someone to take care of themselves and you as well.

You uploaded a few pictures, a couple of selfies and one where your whole body was visible. You probably would have more chance of quickly finding someone if you uploaded a more revealing picture, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not yet.

You took a deep breath and clicked on the button that would make your profile public, watching the message that popped up on your screen - Welcome to Secret Benefits, the number one sugar dating app in America.

Your profile had only been public for a few minutes when you received your first like and inbox message. A man saying he would pay you a thousand dollars a week and didn’t want anything in exchange, only to chat with you. Your friend had warned you about this kind of scam so you simply rolled your eyes and reported the profile.

Browsing through the app you quickly realised that most people on there were men over forty searching for a pretty thing to parade around with. You knew it was the whole point of this app and those kind of relationships, but still.

It felt like you had been scrolling for hours when a profile finally caught your eye. Larissa, 48. Her picture was what first caught your attention. The woman was half-turned from the camera, holding a glass of red wine in her hand. Her white hair was tied in an intricate updo, her lips painted with a crimson red that matched her nails and her blue eyes fixed on the camera as if she had caught the photographer in the act of taking her picture. It almost felt like she was looking right at you. She looked beautiful.

You clicked on her profile, hoping to learn more about the woman. You read her body description, eyes widening when you reached the height criteria and read that she was 6’3. She looked like the type of woman who enjoyed wearing heels and you felt dizzy at the thought of a two metres tall woman towering over you.

You noticed that she had picked “Unspecified” for the monthly income. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly. Was she wary about sharing her income? Strange, given the kind of app you were on. Or perhaps she was old money. She did look wealthy, the kind of woman who would have grown up in a rich family and inherited it all.

She had listed a few of her interests in her bio. Art, luxury fashion and haute couture, feminism. There was a single sentence written underneath, one that had your breath hitch in your throat.

“I call myself a hedonist, I seek utmost pleasure in everything I do.”

And that was enough to have you hooked. You didn��t care about the other thousands of profiles on the website anymore. You only cared about her. Larissa, her sapphire eyes and crimson lips, her hedonistic lifestyle and promise of utmost pleasure, and most importantly - her money.

You clicked on the little heart next to her profile picture, like your friend had told you to do. Now you were supposed to wait and see if the woman would like your profile in return. You could have sent a private message straight away, but your friend said it was better not to, it would make you look too desperate. I am desperate, you thought.

It was only hours later, when you were freshly out of the shower and about to get into bed, that your phone pinged and you quickly grabbed it to check the notification.

Larissa liked you back! The start of a beautiful story?

You stared at the notification for a minute, what were you supposed to do now that she had actually liked you back? You weren’t even expecting to get that far when you signed up.

You sat down in bed still wrapped in your towel and took a deep breath. How were you even supposed to engage in a conversation with a woman like her?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while. Everything you could think of sounded lame and you even considered calling your friend for some advice but it would have just been embarrassing.

You: Hi there! I came across your profile and was very intrigued by your sophistication and the way you described yourself. How has your day been?

That wasn’t too bad. At least you hadn’t sent a cheesy pickup line.

The little “seen” quickly appeared under your message and you bit your lip in anticipation.

Larissa: Good evening! Thank you for reaching out. My day's been quite busy with work, but I'm always up for interesting conversations. How was yours?

Okay, she had answered. She had liked you back and she had answered. Great, it was great.

You: I'm glad you're taking the time to chat. My day's been mostly filled with classes and hanging out with my friends, a normal day in the life of a college student haha. What do you do for work?

Larissa: I’d rather keep my work private, at least for now. But I promise I’m not doing anything illegal! College student, what do you study?

Well, that was a bit strange, although you could see why someone wouldn’t want to share their work field on this kind of app, there was no doubt those arrangements could ruin some people’s lives.

You: Sure, no worries! I study marketing. It’s not always easy but I enjoy it for the most part. I’m really curious about what brings you to this app?

The message was read almost instantly but it took the woman a few minutes to answer. Was she hesitant? Searching for the right words?

Larissa: I appreciate your curiosity. I'm mostly looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement where we can both enjoy each other's company and experiences. What about you? What are you looking for on here?

A mutually beneficial arrangement, that was certainly one eloquent way to put it.

Larissa: I'm seeking someone who can support me as I navigate my studies. I live on my own and have a job on the side but it’s getting really hard to finance everything alone. Plus, I think having someone older in my life, someone with more experience, could only be beneficial. It’s all about benefits and enjoying the finer things, isn’t it?

Larissa: It is! I suppose it’s the main reason why so many young women are on this app. Tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?

You: Well, I honestly don’t really get much free time. But I like to sit down with a nice book whenever I can. I enjoy going for walks and I could spend hours in the kitchen cooking and baking. What about you? Any favourite ways to unwind?

Larissa: I don’t get much free time either if I’m being honest. I’m a busy woman. I do enjoy sitting by the fireplace with a book and a glass of red, one of life’s simple pleasures. I love exploring art galleries, trying out new restaurants and I sometimes, although very rarely, indulge in spa retreats.

Spa retreats? These things cost a fortune! You were lucky if you could indulge yourself in a night out with your friends!

The two of you kept exchanging for a while. You learnt that Larissa was British, that she had moved over here for her studies. She loved travelling, had been to many places around Europe and was a big fan of French cuisine. She felt like the kind of woman you could listen to for hours without ever getting bored.

It was getting late, your eyes were practically closing themselves and you knew you would be absolutely exhausted in the morning, but you didn’t want the conversation to end.

You had been talking for nearly two hours when the woman asked if you had ever dined at Ambrosia, a restaurant way out of the centre of Jericho. You snorted loudly as you searched the restaurant on Google and realised it was a gastronomic one. Did she really think you could afford that kind of place?

You: No, I’ve never been there. But I’ve just googled it and it looks like a nice place!

Larissa: It’s my favourite restaurant in Jericho, I think I must have tried everything on the menu by now. Would you like to join me there for dinner, let’s say on Saturday night?

Saturday night? You quickly checked your schedule, you were working at the bar that day.

You: I would love to, I really would love to, but I’m working that day and I can’t miss a shift…

Larissa: If it’s about the money, you don’t need to worry. Call your work tomorrow, let them know they will need to find someone to fill in for you on Saturday.

You swallowed thickly. What if this was some joke? What if you showed up at the restaurant and she wasn’t there? You would miss your shift, and lose money for nothing. But if she did show up…

You: Fine, I’ll call in the morning. What time should we meet at the restaurant?

Larissa: 6.30 pm? If you give me your address I will have a car sent for you. However, I understand if you feel wary about giving that kind of information to a stranger.

You did feel more than wary about giving her your address. For all you knew it could be some creep hiding behind that profile. But if you didn’t take the leap, you might miss a great opportunity. So you did it, you sent Larissa your address and thanked her for wanting to send a car.

Larissa: Thank you, darling. The car will pick you up at 6. I should probably let you get to bed now, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep during one of your classes. Thank you again for reaching out, it’s refreshing to connect with you.

You: Thank you, Larissa. Likewise, I enjoyed our conversation. See you on Saturday!

You closed the app and took a deep breath. You were insane, absolutely deranged. Who in their right mind would agree to something like this so quickly? You groaned and pulled the duvet over your head. You’d think about this later, all you wanted at that moment was to sleep.

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Your friend had asked you if you’d had any luck on the app yet and you lied, telling her that no one seemed interested in you yet. Maybe you would tell her about your meeting with Rissa once it’d be done. Maybe.

You had exchanged a few more messages with Larissa the next day, just to keep in touch and let her know that you were looking forward to meeting her, and so was she.

The doorbell of your flat ringing woke you up early on Saturday morning. You quickly threw on some pyjamas and went to open, your eyebrows shooting up when the courier handed you a big cardboard box.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself as you placed the box down on your coffee table.

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and carefully cut the tape, holding your breath as you opened the box. There was a small note on top of something wrapped in gold tissue paper.

I picked you an outfit for tonight, I had to guess your size using your pictures but I’m pretty certain it will fit. I suggest wearing a pair of black heels with it. See you tonight, darling.

-Larissa

You had to read the notes a few times to make sure you weren’t just making things up. She had picked you an outfit, really? Did she think you couldn’t dress up on your own? Well, to be fair you weren’t sure you had anything chic enough in your wardrobe, but still.

You carefully opened the tissue paper and your breath hitched as you unfolded the black slip dress that she had picked for you. The silk fabric felt incredibly soft under your fingertips and the lace trim on the neckline was beautiful.

“Simone Rocha.” You read the tag out loud. The name did ring a bell somewhere in your mind, was that a designer dress? Well, at least now you knew the woman was serious about taking you out for dinner tonight.

You were about to close the box when you noticed there was something else in there. You picked it up, eyes growing wide at the sight of a burgundy thong. It was beautiful. Made out of lace and embroidered with floral details, it probably cost more than your whole underwear drawer.

You bit your lip looking at the two items of clothing in your hands. Maybe you could get used to this lifestyle.

The car sent by Larissa arrived at your place at 6 pm sharp. You quickly put on your heels, fixed your lipstick, and took a last look at yourself in the mirror. The dress fitted you like a glove and you had rarely felt that beautiful in a piece of clothing, you looked expensive.

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through your brain as you sat in the back of the car and absentmindedly looked outside the window.

And suddenly it hit you - would Larissa be expecting sex from you? Your eyes widened at the possibility. You had not talked about this. Sure, the woman had said she wanted someone to spend time with, but spending time with someone could mean a lot of things!

You were almost thinking about changing your mind and going home when the car pulled over and the driver let you know that you’d reached your destination. You took a look at the building outside and swallowed thickly. There was no going back now.

You thanked the driver and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You were halfway to the restaurant door when you heard your name being called, causing you to spin on your heels.

“Larissa?” You asked as your eyes landed on the woman walking towards you. She looked just like her picture - tall, elegant, beautiful.

“Yes!” She smiled and nodded.

Noticing that she looked you up and down, you allowed yourself to do the same. She was wearing an emerald fitted dress that perfectly hugged her waist and hips. Her legs had to be the longest you’d ever seen, they seemed to go on and on until you finally reached the silver heels that were on her feet.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled back, feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what to say.

“Likewise.” Larissa answered and pulled the door open to let you in, her hand falling on the small of your back as she followed you inside.

Everything inside the restaurant reeked of wealth. The high ceiling, the polished wood floor and the leather seats. You were out of place and you felt like everyone around you knew it.

“Miss Weems, good evening!” A waiter flashed the woman a bright smile. “Your usual table?”

“Good evening, Adam. Yes please, the usual.” Larissa nodded and her hand on the small of your back gently pushed you, signalling for you to follow the waiter.

You sat down at the table and could immediately tell why it was Larissa’s favourite table. It was at the back of the restaurant, in a quieter space, and it had a perfect view of all the other tables.

The waiter brought the menu almost immediately and made a few suggestions as he poured two glasses of water. You could feel the older woman staring at you as you opened the menu and flipped through the pages. Everything was expensive, a whole three-course meal in this place would cost as much as your biweekly grocery budget. It was insane.

“Anything tempting you?” Larissa smirked, a strange glint in her eye.

“Um…Yes, yes there is a few things that sound really good.” You nodded and pushed an awkward smile.

“The dress suits you perfectly. You picked the perfect shoes to go with it.”

A blush crept up your cheeks hearing the compliments and you pushed out a shy “thank you”.

“Are you wearing everything that I picked?” Larissa asked, her head slightly tilting to the side.

Her eyes briefly dropped to your chest - no bra, that was the right choice for this kind of dress. Larissa was pleasantly surprised. She had purposefully chosen not to include a bra in the package but she wasn’t sure if you’d wear one of your own.

“Yes,” Your cheeks turned a deep red, not far from the colour of the thong you were wearing. “I’m wearing everything you picked. Thank you, by the way, I loved your selection.”

Larissa’s nostrils flared and she let out a satisfied hum, looking up when Adam reappeared by your table.

Larissa went first, there were far too many French words in her order for you to understand properly, but you enjoyed hearing her accent. It was like honey dripping from her lips. When you snapped out of your thoughts, the waiter was looking down at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to place your order only to be cut off by the tall woman’s voice.

“She will have the seared foie gras as an entrée, followed by the filet mignon - medium rare - with grilled asparagus, and the passion fruit mousse for dessert.” Larissa said, her sapphire eyes looking at you above the menu.

Your mouth dropped open. First, she had picked your whole outfit down to your panties, and now this. I want control, she had told you in one of her messages. You hadn’t really understood what it meant at that time, but you did now. You would never admit how turned on you were as you closed your menu and handed it back to the waiter who gave a polite nod and walked away from your table.

“You’re staring, darling.” Larissa pointed out, making you close your mouth and look away for a second.

“Sorry, I-“

“You weren’t expecting that?”

“Yeah…”

Larissa let out a soft chuckle and reached out, crimson nails taking hold of your chin to make you look at her.

“When we meet, if we meet again, I would like to be in charge of those things.” She simply said.

“In control, you mean?”

The woman’s nostrils flared again and she gave a small nod.

“Yes, in control. I do enjoy knowing you’re wearing something that I picked for you, that you will be tasting what I want you to taste.”

There was something almost erotic in the way she said it, something that sent a shiver down your spine and had your eyes dropping to the woman’s lips, watching them curve in a smirk.

“I wanted to ask-“ You mustered the courage to say. “If you would be expecting…more than just my company.”

“Sex?” The word sinfully rolled from her tongue.

“Yes.” You let out in a whisper.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

Maybe.

“No.” It instinctively slipped from your mouth. “This is not the kind of arrangement I’m looking for.”

“Well, then I’m not expecting sex from you, no.” Larissa simply answered. She seemed sincere, like she really had not been expecting anything more than your company.

What if you had said yes, though? Would she have sex with you if you ever changed your mind? You swallowed thickly at the thought and picked up your glass, taking a couple of sips of water.

Larissa asked about your day and if you could explain what your studies consisted of, which you happily did. You told her about economics, and how you had learnt about analysing consumers and competitors. You were sure that it was boring, having to listen to these things when you weren’t involved in marketing, and yet Larissa’s eyes never left you. She gave a nod here and there, and asked more questions when something wasn’t fully clear to her. She seemed genuinely interested in you, and it felt nice.

“Thank you, Adam.” Larissa smiled when the entrées were placed on the table.

You looked down at your plate, it was beautifully presented and smelled incredible. What was it again?

“Seared foie gras,” Larissa said as if she could read your mind. “Enjoy, darling.”

“Thank you, enjoy!” You answered and picked up your fork to try the foie gras. You remembered having tasted it once, years ago at a wedding. But it didn’t taste this good in your memory.

Larissa watched your every move. She watched you push the fork inside your mouth, how you closed your eyes when the food filled your tastebuds. The foie gras was exquisite, the woman knew it, and she relished in the pleased hum that escaped you.

“What do you think?” She said, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It’s delicious, thank you for picking it.” You answered honestly, causing Larissa to let out a shuddering breath. Was she getting off on this?

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Larissa seemed determined to keep most of her life private, only answering a couple of your questions, often with well-thought answers that wouldn’t give out too much. It seemed like she enjoyed hearing you talk about yourself, though, for she asked you question after question throughout the evening.

“Thank you for tonight, Larissa.” You said when the two of you walked out of the restaurant. She had paid for the whole bill and, even though you had expected it, it still brought a blush to your cheeks.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer against her, walking with you towards her car. She had convinced you to let her drive you back to your flat, although it hadn’t taken much for you to agree to it.

You sat down in the passenger seat of her Chevrolet and stayed quiet as Larissa turned on the engine and drove away from the restaurant. A silence fell between you, it was a bit uncomfortable until the older woman turned the radio on and a familiar new wave song filled the car.

Larissa softly hummed along to the tune and her hand moved to rest on your leg, just above your knee, her thumb soothingly rubbing your skin. You didn’t think you would love it as much as you did, but her hand was warm against your flesh and it simply felt right.

“I think we’ve arrived.” Larissa said as she pulled over in front of your flat.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, yes!” You nodded taking a look outside. You had been lost in your thoughts for the entirety of the ride.

Larissa leaned over and pulled something from the glove compartment before handing it to you. It was a small golden envelope with your initials handwritten on it.

“For your missed shift.” She smiled and placed the envelope in your hand.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Now go, get some rest.” She purred. “I will text you later.”

“Goodnight, Larissa.” You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before eventually placing a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Goodnight, darling.” She squeezed your thigh and watched you step out of her car, waiting until you were inside the building before she drove away.

You closed the door behind yourself and let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It had gone…surprisingly well. Larissa was truly charming, she was intelligent, eloquent, and wealthy. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

You stepped out of your heels and walked through your flat, dropping the envelope on the kitchen counter before you made your way to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

Thoughts of the older women flooded your mind as soon as you stepped under the hot water jet. Was she home already? What was she doing? Had she enjoyed her evening? You were pretty sure that she had. More than once you had caught her pupils dilating as you thanked her for what she had picked for you, whether it was the food or the clothing. Was she thinking about you right now like you were thinking about her?

Would you like to have sex with me? - her voice echoed through your mind and you whined, dropping your hand between your legs. There was a sense of urgency in the way you fucked yourself as you thought of Larissa being in control of you, your food, your outfit - God, you’d probably let her take control of your whole being if she asked for it.

“Fuck- Larissa!” Her name rolled from your tongue as you reached your climax, leaving you panting heavily against the shower wall. It was depraved, you thought, fucking yourself thinking of a woman you had just met.

The same thought crossed Larissa’s mind as she slowly pulled her fingers out of herself, pushing them between her lips to lick them clean. It was depraved, but you had looked so good in the dress she’d picked for you and you had been so thankful all night long.

The tall woman opened a kitchen drawer, pulled a cigarette out of it, and lit it while she poured herself a glass of red with her other hand. It usually was either one or the other, but tonight she really needed both. Larissa was hooked, she couldn’t help herself, she loved taking care of a pretty thing.

You grabbed the envelope from the counter on your way to bed, opening it once you had settled down under the duvet. Two hundred dollar bills fell on your lap, making your eyes widen. This was almost double what you’d have made for your shift tonight. You bit your lip and put the money back into the envelope before shoving it inside your bedside table. Maybe you could get used to this, spending time with a beautiful woman and being paid for it. What was that thing she said? Ah, yes, to seek utmost pleasure.

———————————————————————

taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09@catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @makkaroni221 @snakeskin-world @shawncantwrite @eveymay @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @s-c-rambledegggs @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @marcelinececiliarose @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @dani885-xox @rando-mango @jessi-v @rosiexweill @raya0jpg @iheartmilfies @tbsoe @olivianevrakisownsme @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @kittyxtallmilfs @tallvampirelady12 @spacetoaim22 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @bigwanise12 @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @sapphicsticate-blog @1-800-milfdilf @isastrwbxy @bluepandastarfish @tarabeck15 @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @slightlymalicedme @anoymous614372 @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @goodnightboi @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems x y/n #no beta we die like larissa #principal weems #sugar mommy Larissa #secret benefits

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rainylana · 10 days

Text

“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #requests #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut (oral - m receiving)

Summary: Daryl should have bad days more often.

A/N: I wonder if I should be concerned that I wrote this after an extremely traumatic experience.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

The air in the room had gone humid, reeking of sex and sweat. Yet it was sweet and refreshing after spending day after day wading knee deep in death and blood. It was here that you could breathe easy and remember that there were good things left in the world.

Now breathing easy wasn’t literal at that moment considering the 8 inches of archer currently sliding in and out of your mouth. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you kept your gaze on him. His head was thrown back to rest against the couch while his fingers were tangled in your hair.

“Fuck.”

Oh, how you loved it when he moaned. Daryl was always so quiet, broody even, when outside your home. Inside, though? He could get loud. And god, did you love it. The needy little sounds he was making at that very moment had your cunt clenching around nothing, but this wasn’t about you. Not this time.

You let your nails scrape down his denim-clad thighs. You hadn’t given him a chance to undress. You simply went after his belt buckle the moment he walked into the house and shoved him toward the couch. You didn’t need him naked to work your magic.

You hummed around his length, tightening your lips and pressing your tongue underneath as you dragged upward to make room for your hand to wrap around him. You felt the slight pull against your scalp of his grip tightening, yet he didn’t try to control your pace. He could if he wanted but unless you expressly told him to, he never did.

You pulled your mouth off, the slick sound of your hand pumping him replacing the gagging noises that preceded. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Daryl was slow to raise his head, the blue of his eyes only a thin ring around lust blown pupils. He was panting through the slight partition of his lips, his tongue snaking out to wet them slowly. When he didn’t answer, your movements slowed to a crawl. “Words, baby.”

“Yes.” He huffed in a quick breath.

Not good enough. “Yes, what?” You stopped altogether and gave his shaft a squeeze. The archer hissed through his teeth, hips jerking.

“M’a good boy.” He keened. With a satisfied hum, you went right back to a fast pace, licking your own lips when his head fell back with a shout of your name.

“Yes, you are.” Your mouth was on him again, cheeks hollowed while your lips and hand chased one another to drag the most delicious sounds from the man currently at your mercy.

“Y/N—Y/N, m’gonna cum.”

You pulled off him with a pop, drinking in the sheen of sweat on his skin. The grimace of pleasure as he struggled to keep control.

“And if I say no?” He was gritting his teeth while you continued torturous stroke after stroke. “Would you beg?”

“Yes!” Daryl groaned without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a hard day. I won’t make you beg.” You wondered briefly if you should ask him where he’d like to cum, but given the way he was currently writhing in restraint, you wouldn’t even get the question out. “Cum for me, Daryl.”

You opened your mouth not a moment too soon. Warm ropes hit your tongue before you sealed your lips over his tip, swallowing him down while he moaned and rocked his hips. His hands fell away from your hair, his chest heaving while half lidded eyes watched you drag your tongue over the length of him to savor every single drop.

“Mmmm, you’re so good for me.” You gently tucked him away— zipping his jeans, but leaving the button and belt open —before crawling up his body to press yourself against his chest. Your mouths met in a gentle kiss that allowed him to taste himself on your tongue. Settling on his lap, you smiled and leaned into his touch when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Did that make your bad day better?”

He gave you a lopsided smile, one you weren’t sure anyone else had ever seen. “Yes, ma’am.”

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goldsbitch · 3 months

Text

Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003

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melanatedeuph0ria · 19 days

Text

the boy is mine ⋆˙⟡♡

rick grimes x black!fem! reader

since he’d arrived in alexandria, you and rick have gone from complete strangers to close friends. you’d proven to be extremely useful to his team-after all, you were a great shot and had skin tougher than steel. but now, you’ve started seeing rick in a different, more romantic light. will your newly-developed crush on the police officer be reciprocated as you’d dreamed?

summary: you and rick go on a run for supplies. some hidden feelings get uncovered along the way.

NOTE: this fic takes place in alexandria era BEFORE negan (i’m guessing like s6 bc i forgot)

a/n: MY FIRST FIC EVER AAAAA i’m hoping its ok bc i’m literally just going w the flow lmao

also sorry ts took so fucking long i still have school n stuff guys 🙏🏽😞

genre: fluff, angst, hurt, comfort idk

warnings: blood, zombies, cursing, use of n word, near-death experience

“y/n! you ready to head out?”, rick yelled as he leaned against a silver sedan parked in front of Alexandria’s gates.

after finding yourself caught in a conversation with maggie and glenn, you quickly swooped your head around to acknowledge the gruff man, your eyes widening at the sound of his southern drawl lingering on your name.

“yeah, I’m comin’!” you croaked, creasing your lips into a nervous smile. after a moment, you made your way over to his car, backpack slung over your back.

you and rick were headed to a small, nearby grocery store that an old-time alexandrian claimed was hidden away from the frequent commotion of the town. there was a 50/50 chance that it might’ve or might’ve not been looted, but you both weren’t willing to skimp out on this rare opportunity. after all, the community was running short on food and supplies-it started getting obvious that it was once people were given smaller portion sizes than normal.

and it was you who, stupidly enough, agreed to check out the area with none other than your best friend you’ve been harboring a crush on, rick grimes.

you were intrigued with the man from the moment he stepped foot into alexandria-he lowkey terrified you, him AND his group, but that only sparked your urge to get to know them a bit more. you didn’t actively seek interaction with them- it was by really by circumstance when you had the chance to kinda intermingle with them all. you forgot how you and rick even met each other, to be honest. he knew you were a good shot and had skin tough as nails, that’s for sure. you had grown into something of a maternal figure for Carl, his teenage son, although it took a while for him to finally warm up to you. you couldn’t blame him, to be honest. you knew he’d been through some rough shit-he told you about his mom and what he was forced to do to her after she’d been bitten and just delivered judith, his month-old half-sister. nonetheless, you and rick were both each other’s rocks; he cared for you unlike anyone else in alexandria, and you adored certain things about him-his deep, southern voice when he gently called your name. the traces of vanilla and bourbon cologne left on his clothes despite sweating all day-most of the time he didn’t even bother trying to put it on, but the days he did, you subconsciously noticed. him surprising you with 90’s rnb album CDs that he’d snatched on his runs- once he’d surprised you with a whole erykah badu album, and since then, you’ve kept it under lock and key inside your nightstand. his damp, ruffled hair as he stops by your house for a towel to dry it off because he never seemed to have any of his own; you let him in without much question, of course, but for the past few weeks he’s been on your porch steps, your heart’s been pumping at speeds you’ve never experienced before-at least, not in a while-a zombie apocalypse ruins one’s concept of love when the one you’re in love with can slip from your fingers in a heartbeat.

but could it be? could you really be in love with your best friend in a zombie apocalypse? you were sure of it, but horrified to know if he felt the same, which is why you didn’t even realize your leg was was anxiously bouncing up and down on the floor of the car until…

“y/n. you alright?”

“huh? oh y-yeah, i’m good. what’s wrong?”

“nothin’, you’re just..extra quiet.”

“do i need to start talkin’?” you didn’t mean for that to come off as rude as it did. you were just nervous, nervous about what he’d tell you if you told him how you truly felt.

“no, no, it’s fine. you don’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t feel like it.”

aww shit, now i feel bad, you thought. you tried your hardest not to sink into the car seat in shame so he wouldn’t notice yet another thing off about you today. you tilted your head to the window.

“we made it.” in what seemed like a flash, you and Rick were parked outside the convenience store. did you zone out that hard? not that it mattered anymore. you climbed out of the car and you both took a closer look at the store. it was abandoned all right-at least, it could’ve just looked that way-but it still looked intact. untouched by the world. you hoped that would also apply to whatever awaited inside.

bigger than what i thought it’d be, you thought as you peered at the building.

“bigger than i thought it would be.” rick said aloud.

is this nigga reading my mind..? you thought. “let’s just hope there’s no walkers on the inside.” you said in an attempt to reassure yourself that there were no undead lurking around.

You looked back at Rick for a response or some sort of agreement, but when you did, out of the corner of your eye you saw him damn near snap his neck just to stare back at the store. he cleared his throat loudly. the gesture alone radiated an anxious energy, something you had almost never sensed in the man since knowing him. it was kinda like he was afraid of getting caught…wait…

..was rick staring at you? and how long had you gone without even noticing?

if he was staring, it certainly wasn’t for no reason. you are undoubtedly stunning, so much in fact that some people were envious of your beauty before and during the apocalypse. your rich, brown skin, glistening in the hot, june sun, and your thick, coily hair, pulled into a low puff, were just a few of your most admirable features, both inside and out.

shaking the thought off your mind, you both finally approached the building, carefully peeling open its glass doors and sliding inside. you knew the drill already, but rick felt the need to tell you again, which wasn’t to your surprise at this point. “i’ll take the left side, you take the right. we’ll use our walkies to communicate-if you’re in trouble, i’ll be right there, alright?” you nodded in compliance-you both knew you could handle yourself-but you couldn’t help but bite down a smile when he said that. his low, whispery voice was strangely reassuring, like he cared for you as a lover instead of a friend. you felt your cheeks begin to burn-it’s not really like he could tell anyway, for obvious reasons, but also because it was dark as hell in the store- you assumed the owners didn’t survive long enough to pay the electricity bill.

you were shocked to see that the aisles were just barely looted-you we’re expecting them to show signs of being scavenged at least a bit, but there they were, filled to the brim with food that would just about save Alexandria from starvation.

you clicked on your walkie and held it up to your mouth. “holy shit.” is all that could manage to come out of your mouth right now.

“looks like we hit the jackpot.” rick replied on the on the other line. he already knew what your “holy shit” meant.

with caution, you strolled down the “canned goods” aisle, looking up and down each section in awe. you came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rows, gazing at everything in stock until your eyes settled on a can of peaches. you knew they were probably expired, you expected everything else in there to be, but you were curious to see what the expiration date read on its back, to see how long it’d been since the world went to hell. you held the can in your left hand, examining the date on its back: 10/18/09; it’d been expired a year before the apocalypse even began…

didn’t think it’d be that expired.., you murmured to yourself as you creased your lips into a disgusted frown. just as you began to set the specimen back on the shelf, a loud thud from underneath the rack sent it bouncing upwards, startling you so badly that the can slipped from your fingers and splattered onto the floor into a mushy mess. somehow, there was a walker under there, reaching its pale, maggot-infested limbs out to grasp at your leg. your eyes immediately traveled to the undead as you quickly thought of how you could quickly end its 2nd life. you frantically tugged your imprisoned foot backwards in an attempt to break free, reaching into your leather sheath and pulling out your dagger halfway, but, soon enough, you were met with an even more terrifying scenario. your back clashed violently with the rack behind you, and a walker on the other side, suddenly aroused by the sound and the smell of your human flesh, reached its spindly hand through a wide, open hole in the decaying rack. its hand curled around your throat with enough pressure to keep you pinned to the shelf while you also tried to free your leg from the walker below you.

“RICK, I NEED HELP!” you yelled out into the aisle. it was a risky move and could probably attract even more walkers than what was already threatening you, but you couldn’t get a good grip on your dagger and that was the only weapon you had. calling for backup was the only option you had left.

the oncoming presence of death pricked at prodded at your skin like thorns. the thought that-in that moment, you could be bitten, and all of your hopes and ambitions for the future could immediately be crushed-left you speechless, stricken with terror.

just as the walker grabbing at your neck prepared to take a bite out of it, rick appeared and stabbed it right in its head. just after you finally freed yourself from its grasp, the man noticed the walker on the ground and stomped on its skull, leaving a bloody, mushy mess on the floor, but you were too panicked to even notice.

an exasperated sigh escaped your mouth. “oh my God, rick, you’re a lifesaver-“

your rushed, panicky words were interrupted when he suddenly crashed his lips onto yours. your eyes immediately widened at the sensation of his coarse lips pressing onto yours, soft and plump, then slowly fluttered shut. your breathing, at first rapid and filled with anxiety, had simmered down into slow and steady breaths as his lips passionately devoured yours. almost subconsciously, he trailed his right hand, roughened with scars and calluses, on the nape of your neck, holding you closer than ever before as he rested his left hand on your hip. his ocean blue eyes drifted shut as he explored you, desperate for your touch, before he slowly pulled away from the kiss to give you some time to breathe. you fluttered your eyes back open and waited for him to look up at you.

“i’m-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, just so randomly. fuck…” rick babbled rapid apologies before a frustrated, shaky sigh escaped from his mouth. without thinking, you cupped his cheek, burning with the embarrassment of his decision, and leaned into him, rewarding him with a kiss of your own; it only seemed fair after he saved your life and your heart in only a matter of seconds. his eyes fluttered shut at your touch as your other hand tangled into his neatly combed hair. you let the feeling of your lips gently pressed together linger for a few seconds before you slowly pulled away. you felt your heart buzzing with excitement but also with relief, now that you knew that he’d been storing feelings for you this entire time. a confident grin appeared on your face as you looked up at him.

“i like you too, grimes.”

-the end. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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mrsstarkey1 · 1 year

Text

mastermind - drew starkey

SUMMARY: requested by @willowpains - could I request a drew blurb with cast mate reader based on the Taylor song mastermind?

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNINGS: none

“Alright, I’m here,” you spoke into your phone quietly, shifting through the crowd of guests to get to the restroom.

“You’re sure he’ll be there?” Madeline asked you, no doubt biting her nails in anticipation to see how your plan played out.

“Absolutely,” you said with a small smirk. You let the bathroom door close before bending down to check for any other people in the restroom. You let yourself breathe when you found no occupants of the stalls.

“Where are you right now?” Madeline asked.

“In the bathroom,” you said, walking over to the mirror, giving yourself an in-depth look. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the countertop by the sink.

“You can’t hide in the bathroom the whole time,” Madeline said.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m just making sure I look good. I can’t run into him as soon as he gets here anyways. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” you reminded her with a small proud smile.

Madeline chuckled, “you’re right, sorry, I always forget that you’re practically a criminal mastermind. I mean seriously, how do you come up with this stuff?”

The bathroom door swung open, two ladies walking in. You gave them a friendly smile, and picked up your phone, “gotta go Mads, I’ll keep you updated.”

You adjusted the fabric of your dress one last time, mentally thanking yourself for picking the red one. Once satisfied with your appearance, you slipped your phone into your purse, and exited the bathroom.

Your eyes scanned the large room, almost immediately finding who you were looking for. Drew was dressed in a dark blue suit, that you were almost positive he’d taken from Rafe’s wardrobe. His skin was tan, much like yours, as you were just filming in the scorching sun not three days ago. You kept your eyes on him as he spoke to the guy next to him, moving cautiously closer to him while he was distracted.

You placed yourself between two people at the bar, about 4 people away from where Drew was standing.

“Vodka lemonade please,” you asked the bartender with a smile.

As soon as Drew looked to his right, he undoubtedly would see you as you innocently sipped your drink. All you had to do was wait, and make meaningless small talk with the stranger beside you.

No more than five minutes later, you felt a hand on the fabric covered part of your shoulder. “y/n?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Your lips twitched into a smirk, and strategically changed into a shocked smile when you turned to face him. “What are you doing here?” Drew asked you, eyes trailing down your body unwillingly. He’d never seen you in a dress, so he couldn’t help himself. Exactly as you intended.

“Oh I know Melonie and she invited me last minute,” you waved off. You didn’t know Melonie. “What about you?”

“My buddy Brian invited me and I didn’t really have much else to do,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he added with a wide smile, one that you hadn’t seen when he was speaking to his buddy Brian.

You smiled back at him, “I know, such a small world. We haven’t really seen each other much outside of set, have we?” you said as if it was the first time you’d had the thought.

Drew thought for a moment, “no we really haven’t.” A small smile played at his lips when he thought over his next words. “Seems like the universe has given us a chance to change that, eh?”

Your face flushed red and you let yourself smile, “I guess it has.”

You spoke at the bar for the better half of the night, only reminded that there were other people around you when the man playing the music had announced the last slow dance.

Your eyes met Drew’s as the music began to play, a question twinkling in Drew’s eyes. He took a couple steps toward the open area where couples had made their way to. You glanced down at his hand that was held out to you, waiting to be accepted, “shall we?”

You placed your hand in his, and God, if only you could put the feeling you got into words. If the red tint on Drew’s face and the smile on his lips was any indication, he felt it too.

You let Drew guide you to the dance floor, giddy smiles on both of your faces. Drew’s hands rested on your hips, and you placed yours around his neck comfortably. “You look gorgeous, y/n,” Drew spoke softly, eyes fixed on yours, “I should have said that earlier,” he added.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Drew,” you returned the compliment, an ear-to-ear smile on your face.

You leaned in to rest the side of your head on his shoulder, swaying to the song you’d requested at the beginning of the night.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“You’re positive you want to meet my parents?” you asked Drew, giving him one final chance to opt out.

Drew gave you a look from the driver's seat, “well we’ve already driven 3 hours, so it might be a little late to change my mind,” he said with a grin, keeping his eyes on you for a moment. “Of course I want to meet them,” he added more seriously. “We’ve been dating for 6 months, it’s time I met the people who raised my favorite person in the world," he said sweetly, reaching over and placing his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You let yourself relax, feeling slightly less nervous now. It was still terrifying though, Drew meeting your parents. They could be... difficult at times.

You made it to your hotel a little less than an hour before you had to be at dinner. You freshened up in the bathroom while Drew sat on the bed watching the TV.

“Almost ready, baby? We should get going,” Drew called out, standing up to get his shoes on.

You came out of the bathroom with a sigh, “I guess.”

Drew moved to you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you in for a hug. “It’s going to be fine y/n. They’re gonna love me. I mean, what’s not to love about me?” he said into your hair.

You chuckled, shaking your head into his shoulder. “Nothing, you’re perfect. My parents are just protective, you know?”

Drew ran his hand up and down your back soothingly, “I get it. But I’ll work my charm on them and it’ll all work out,” he said confidently.

You chose to believe him, and you mustered up the courage to leave the hotel room, hand in hand with Drew.

You made it to the restaurant a couple minutes before the designated time, but you could already see your parents sitting at a table. “Oh God, they’re here,” you muttered into Drew’s shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

Drew’s arm tightened around your waist, “It’s gonna be fine, alright?” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head.

You made your way over to the table, hand tightly wrapped around Drew’s. Your moms face lit up when she saw you, and she stood up to greet you immediately. You hesitatingly dropped Drew’s hand, letting your mom pull you in for a short hug, then your dad. You watched as your parents shifted over to Drew, silently praying that they behaved themselves.

“You must be Drew,” you father said, holding out his hand for a firm handshake.

Drew nodded his head curtly, a smile plastered on his face, “Mr. y/l/n,” he turned to your mom, “Mrs. y/l/n, it’s lovely to finally meet you both.”

You watched your parents exchange a look, and then smiles appear on both of their faces. Your mom pulled Drew in for a hug, and your mouth nearly dropped to the floor.

You composed yourself when Drew and your parents sat down at the table with you. “I’m so glad you two could finally come to see us,” your mom said, reaching across the table to grab your hand.

You were shocked, to say the least to witness this behavior from your parents. They were being genuinely nice. Maybe it was because it had been so long since you’d seen them?

You came out of your trance and smiled sweetly at your mom, “sorry it took so long.”

You all ordered your food, and fell into a comfortable conversation.

“So you guys had worked together for a while before you started dating, what changed?” your mom asked the two of you.

Your lips twitched into a smile as you remembered the night that changed your friendship with Drew into something much more.

You let Drew tell your parents the story while you reminisced about your greatest achievement; your most elaborate master plan.

"...it really was fate that y/n was there that night," Drew finished the story with a twinkle in his eyes.

Your mom grinned, looking between the two of you, “what a lovely story,” she said truthfully. “You’re sure it was fate? She’s always been a tricky one, that y/n,” she added, and you gave her a warning look. “Always gets what she wants,” she said with a small smirk, taking a bite of her steak.

Drew chuckled, locking eyes with you and raising his eyebrows.

“Come on Mom, don’t make me seem crazy,” you joked with a dismissive wave of your hand, “speaking of crazy, how’s aunt Jen?”

The rest of the dinner went much better than you could have ever expected. By the time your father had paid the bill, you felt like Drew and your parents got along even better than you got along with him. You'd take that over them not getting along any day.

You hugged your mom and dad goodbye, "it was great to see you guys."

"You too, sweetie," your mom said with a smile, turning to Drew. "It was great getting to know you, Drew. I sure am glad that fate brought you and my daughter together," she said, looking back at you and offering a not-so-sly wink.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Drew asked you, once you’d made it to your hotel for the night.

You shook your head admittedly, taking your earrings out and placing them on the dresser, “they were like completely different people, Drew, I swear. They are never that welcoming to my boyfriends.”

Drew laid down on the bed with a sigh, a proud smile on his lips, “I’m not just any boyfriend, y/n.” He held out his arms for you to join him on the bed. You complied, rolling over his body onto the space beside him, lying halfway on his body.

You wrapped your arm around his middle, resting your head on his chest. You lied there for awhile, becoming nearly relaxed enough to fall asleep as Drew rubbed your back.

“Hey Drew,” you said, unable to stop yourself.

“Hm?”

“Remember my mom said at dinner, about the night we became more than friends?” you asked him, tilting your head up slightly to look at him.

“Mhm, I remember. Why do you ask?” he asked you.

“She was right,” you said softly, meeting his eyes, hesitantly awaiting a reaction.

Drew’s expression changed into a wide smirk, eyes twinkling with a familiar look of admiration, “I know,” he whispered.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “what?” you breathed out, eyes scanning his face to see if he was telling the truth.

“I knew the whole time, baby,” he said, a satisfied smile plastered on his face, pulling you back down to lay on his chest. “It’s why I love you, my little mastermind,” he whispered into your hair.

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tightjeansjavi · 11 months

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Cigarettes & Feelings

“I know you see me there you’re always playing this game”

(Javi Peña x f! reader) Part 2 (+18)

A/N: if there’s one thing I love, it’s a man in denial about having a crush, and a man coming to accept that he does have said crush. It’s chefs kiss. You’ll be angry with Javi in the first half of the chapter (he’s a douche) but after a quick trip to the brothel, he’s got his shit straightened out..well, sorta.

Happy reading! ♡

~word count: 3.9k~

Summary: Agent Peña, Bogotá's infamous playboy. Has he met his match when he meets you, the US Embassy's newest receptionist.

Warnings: Javi acting like a stereotypical douche/playboy, Murphy tells him to cut that shit out, Javi takes his frustrations out at the brothel, smut (not with the reader) protected sex, nipple play, doggy style, praise kink, very light breath play, teasing, pillow talk, nicknames such as: cariño, hermosa, muñeca, whore is used but not in a derogatory sense, Javi is put in his place twice, denial of feelings of course, Javi and the reader reach a middle ground by the end of the chapter, angsty vibes, internal thoughts, denial, pining (if you squint) Javi is turning over a new leaf thanks to some much needed advice, ends on a cliffhanger sorry not sorry hehe, (+18) minors dni!

Agent Peña Playlist:

Bogotá, Colombia 1988

It had been a whole month since you started to work at the US Embassy in Colombia. An entire month of Javier Peña’s fruitless attempts at getting you to fall for his vexatious charm. He’d go out of his way to make a comment about your nails. Saying that a specific shade of pink that was doted on your nails, really brought out the color in your eyes. Could he be any less original? Every time ‘querida’ or ‘hermosa’ or any other nicknames Javier had so graciously given you would slip past his plush pink lips, your eyes would immediately roll like a pair of dice. It was becoming a routine for you, turning down agent Peña’s flirtations towards you was a piece of cake. The other receptionists started to catch on as well and no longer fed into the agent's bullshit.

Javier was feeling personally vexed by you. Even more so now that he could no longer look forward to a quick fuck from one of the other receptionists that used to be wrapped around his finger. It seemed like you were going to end up being a real thorn in his side. Murphy on the other hand was truly getting a kick out of seeing his partner getting shot down by you everyday. It was like clockwork, and a breath of fresh air to see Javier be humbled by you.

“You know..she’s really not even that pretty. Average at best.” Javi had muttered with a cigarette pursed between his lips as he was going through another file that could potentially help bring down Pablo Escobar.

“Wasn’t it just the other day you were saying that she was the hottest thing on two legs? Or were you talking about someone else? Hard to keep track of all of them, Javi.” Murphy didn’t even look up from his typewriter and he already knew that Javi was rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, that was when she wasn’t getting in my way of getting some decent pussy around here. She’s somehow managed to get every single fucking woman in the office to turn on me. Un-fucking believable.” Javi was in fact rolling his eyes.

“Why don’t you just jerk off like a normal fucking person if it aggravates you that much. Or, I don’t know, maybe not eye fuck her every chance you get? Just a thought. Connie would be tearing you a new one if she heard the shit that just came out of your mouth Peña.” Murphy reached over and snatched the file from the agent's hands without another word.

Javier's eyes narrowed over his desk. He was feeling annoyed and perhaps even a little offended by Murphy’s words. “Is that what your married life consists of? Only having the option to jerk off? You poor poor man.” He pushed himself out of his chair with a huff as he doused his cigarette out and grabbed his leather jacket. “I’m going out.” He announced to the other agent before grabbing his badge and gun and strode out the office space. He walked right past your little cubicle, and you could feel the irritation radiating off of his skin as his magnetic cinnamon brown eyes met yours for a millisecond before he was quickly looking away, gritting his jaw tightly.

Murphy was chuckling under his breath as Javi announced his departure. His stature alone was a dead giveaway on where exactly he was headed off to. Javi often visited the local brothel whenever he was facing frustrations that could only seemingly be coddled by his cock sheathed in a woman’s warmth. “Uh huh. Enjoy getting your dick wet, asshole.” Murphy muttered to himself before he got up from his desk and made his way over to your cubicle.

“Let me guess, he’s off to the brothel again?” You looked up at the agent with a small grin graced across your features.

“He sure is. I think you’ve really managed to get unimaginably deep beneath his skin. I gotta say, I’m impressed. He’ll be back after he goes and licks his wounds. Good job on keeping him humbled.” He shot you a wink, giving you a light fist bump.

“Have I really? I had no idea he was that sensitive. You’d think at this point he’d just get over himself.” You let out a faux sigh of disappointment.

“Javier? Getting over himself? Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re certainly giving him a run for his money. It’s a breath of fresh air to see.”

“A man’s gotta give up eventually, right? How long is he realistically going to keep this up?”

“Not Javier I’m afraid. The only way he’s going to give up is if he feels like he stands no chance. Right now, he still thinks that you’re just playing a game with him.” Murphy stated what he felt was the obvious.

You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head. Javier Peña was vexing you in his own way.

“A game that he has no chance of winning.”

The sound of skin slapping against sweat soaked skin mixed in with high octave moans of pleasure could be heard through the thin walls of one of Medellíns many brothels. Javier was a frequent customer who tipped well, and never left a woman there feeling unsatisfied.

Catalina was his personal favorite at this brothel but he wasn’t particularly picky either. He just liked her for the fact that she understood him best. Always let him vent to her after he’d fuck her brains out. He never had a problem paying her extra for her services.

His hand was firmly wrapped around her throat with his thumb lightly applying pressure to her windpipe as he fucked her from behind. His free hand found purchase around her middle, grasping firmly around the soft tissue of her breast as he yanked her back against his chest. Her strangled moans drove him forward as he snapped his hips against her ass at an unforgiving pace. His lips were all over her skin, her cheek, jawline, neck. He was a biter. His teeth nipped at the skin below her ear as filth slipped past his lips. “Give it to me, hermosa. I need it so bad. Soak my cock with this tight little pussy. C’mon, muñeca. Give. It. To. Me.” He grunted deeply against her ear, letting his hand drift from her breast down her navel where his fingers began to toy with her clit, rubbing the small bud in tight, expert circles.

She came undone around him shortly after, crying out his name.

Javi. Javi. Javi.

“Cata, how do I get through to someone as stubborn as her? This game her and I are playing is fun, don’t get me wrong, but she’s so fucking frustrating.” Javier spoke with a soft breath, resting his arm behind his head as she lit the cigarette between his lips, brushing her fingers across his jawline gently.

“Javier, not every woman is going to be interested in you. Although, I can’t wrap my head around as to why..” she pressed a kiss to his bicep, resting her cheek along the crook of his neck.

Javi took a deep inhale as he let his free arm gently drop along her shoulders, fingers lightly dancing across her warm skin. “She’s the first woman I have come across that hasn’t shown a lick of interest in me. Or, she just does a real damn good job of hiding it from me.” He chuckled, blowing the smoke up towards the low-lit ceiling.

“Are you nice to her, Javier? You’re gorgeous, no doubt, but not every woman is into asshole DEA agents. Maybe you should try a different tactic and see how she responds? I know women very very well. We deserve to be, and should be respected by our male counterparts. I may be a whore, who enjoys being fucked like one, but that doesn’t mean I’d enjoy it if you degraded me, or made me feel like I was less than a person.”

Javier paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a deep inhale. No, he hadn’t really thought about it that way. Had he disrespected you and just not realized it? Perhaps Catalina was right, perhaps he needed to take an entirely different approach when it came to pursuing you. “Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty nice. I make comments about her nails and how the shade she is wearing really brings out the color of her eyes. Okay, and I eye fuck her at least once or twice a day. I’ve respected you, haven’t I? I’ve..never degraded you, have I muñeca?”

Catalina couldn’t help but lightly giggle as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck, reaching up and plucked the cigarette between his lips and brought the unlit end to her own, taking a slow drag as she rolled over onto her back with ease. “My sweet, it sounds to me that you might be developing a crush for this girl, hmm? Has Javier Peña finally met his match? Perhaps you should stop eye fucking her, and cool it with the compliments. Those end up growing old very fast, and she probably would appreciate it if you had..a normal conversation with her? You have always respected me, Javi. You happen to be my favorite customer and no, it’s not just because of your cock. You’re a passionate lover, and I appreciate the fact that you’ve never treated me any differently for the fact that I’m a whore. So why would you treat this girl any differently?”

Javier couldn’t help but scoff under his breath at her comment about him having a crush on you. Javier Peña did not have crushes. He fucked with no strings attached, period. “Hermosa, I do not have a crush on her. Since when do I ever have crushes? Do I look like a little school girl to you?” He chuckled, rolling over onto his elbow, propping himself up. He let his hand drift around her bare breast, lightly toying with her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before he was leaning over and replacing his fingers with his mouth as he wrapped his lips around the nub, kissing and licking languidly.

Catalina let out a hum, letting her eyes flutter shut as she took another drag from the cigarette. She slowly slid her fingers through his sexed up hair, twirling a strand around her finger. “Denial is the first stage to acceptance, Javi. I know a man that has a crush when I see one, and you most definitely have one cariño.”

Javi let out a low growl, scraping his teeth along her sensitive nub as he flicked his tongue across it, nose firmly pressed against the top of her plush breast. “I. Do. Not. Have. A. Crush.” He enunciated each syllable against her skin just to prove his point.

Catalina let out a low hiss, nearly dropping the cigarette from between her lips as she gripped his hair at the roots and firmly tugged on it. “Keep on telling yourself that Javier. You and I both know you’re lying.” She mewled.

Javier ignored her as his hand drifted down between her thighs and he wasted no time to coax them open so he could drag his fingers through her slick. “Hermosa, less talking. Let me take care of you some more.”

Javier didn’t leave the brothel till almost the evening hours. He paid Catalina handsomely for her services and then some. Before returning to the office, he made a quick pit stop at his apartment so he could shower, and rinse away the aroma of cum, and the stench of sex that was still lingering on his skin.

He was surprised to see that you were working late on a Friday night. He expected that you’d have some plans to go out dancing or drinking with friends. The night life in Medellín was like none other. More so, he was surprised that you were walking over to his desk of all places. What game could you possibly be playing at now, he wondered.

You weren’t 100% sure as to why you felt like being the bigger person and saying goodnight to Javier before you’d leave the office for the evening. Your feet were moving before your brain could stop you, and soon you found yourself standing in front of his desk.

He had a cigarette pursed between his lips, (he always did) and the smoke billowed up around his face like a gray halo. He was anything but a saint.

“Goodnight, Javier. I hope you have a pleasant weekend.”

Javi slowly looked up at you. He gave you a once over, despite Catalina’s warning to not do that anymore. His brow was raised as you bid him a good evening. “You as well, cariño. Have any fun plans for the weekend?” He was genuinely curious to hear your answer.

Your Friday night plans consisted of a bottle of wine, and a good book. You hadn’t made any friends as of yet, but Javier did not need to know that. That’s the last thing you needed the DEA agent to know.

“Uh huh. I do have fun plans actually.” The way you were no longer meeting his stare, was a dead giveaway for Javi to know that you were lying to him.

“Yeah? Well, what are these said fun plans that you have hermosa?” Javier asked with a smirk playing on his lips, taking a deep drag as the tip of the cigarette burned bright orange.

“Okay, so I lied. I don’t have any fun plans. Unless you consider going home and curling up on the couch with a good book, and a glass of wine, fun plans then no.”

Javier was shocked for the second time that evening in a matter of mere minutes. “You mean to tell me that someone as attractive as you are, has absolutely no plans to go out on this beautiful Friday night in Medellín? I don’t believe that for a minute cariño.”

“Yeah, so how about you don’t rub it in my face? Thanks. Anyway, I’m leaving now.” You were already turning on your heel when you felt Javier’s warm palm gently make contact with your wrist.

“I’m not trying to rub it in your face or anything like that hermosa. I’m genuinely just shocked that you’re not going out tonight. Medellín has so much to offer.” He paused, thinking about what he could say next and then it hit him. Here was his chance to see you outside the workplace for once.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come out for drinks with Steve and I, and his wife Connie. I just have something to finish up here, and then I am going to go meet them.” He doused his cigarette against the ashtray, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he waited for your answer with a bated breath.

“Are you inviting me out for drinks because you think you’re going to get lucky tonight? Cause if that’s the case, then no. I’ll politely pass.” You fought the urge to scoff at the fact that he even bothered to ask you.

“No, that won’t be necessary at all. Can’t a coworker ask another coworker out for drinks and not assume he’s going to end up lucky?” Javier had a frown playing across his kissable lips that made you want to believe that he had an ulterior motive. Truthfully, you would much rather go out for drinks than spend another night alone.

“Okay, fine. No funny business, right?” You looked at him with a raised brow, arms crossed over your chest.

“No funny business, cariño. I promise. I’ll be on my very best behavior.” Javier assured you.

“Great. Glad that we’re finally on the same page, Peña. I’ll just need to run to my apartment real quick to change. These heels are fucking killing me.”

Javi was already up from his desk, grabbing his badge, gun and box of smokes as he swung his leather jacket over his shoulders. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised about that. They look incredibly uncomfortable. I give major props to you, and the other ladies in the office for wearing them everyday. Is your place far from here? I could always drive you, if you’d like.”

“I thought you had something you needed to finish up Javier?” You glanced over at him wearily as you processed the fact that he was genuinely being nice to you and not eye fucking you like you were a piece of meat. “Sure, that would be great actually. Just don’t get any ideas, alright?”

“It’ll become Monday’s problem. Although, Murphy and I are always on the job. Hence why I keep my badge and gun on me at all times. You just never know when you might really need it.” He swung his keys lightly around his finger as he gestured for you to walk in front. “What kinda ideas would I possibly get from you letting me drive you to your apartment cariño?” He couldn’t help but lightly chuckle as he walked alongside you, flicking the light off on his way out.

“Does it ever weigh on you? Not physically, but the fact that you always have to keep it on you?” You looked over at him as you adjusted the strap of your bag along your shoulder. “The kind that will make you think that I’m going to be inviting you into my apartment Javier.”

Javi wasn’t expecting your question to say the least. Your words immediately had a visible effect on him as it weighed on his mind. He held the door open to the parking lot on the side of the building for you to walk through first. “Sometimes it does. I usually don’t actively think about it. The badge and gun have just become a part of me, in a sense. If they’re not on my person, then they’re right next to my nightstand when I sleep. It just comes with this line of work. You always have to be prepared for the worst.” He opened the passenger side door for you. “I’ll wait outside your apartment door. How does that sound to you?”

“So I take it..there’s never a moment where you ever let your guard down? Simply because if you do, it could be a situation of either living or dying? Or maybe that’s too extreme for me to say.” You gave him a small nod as you climbed into the passenger seat taking a note of how tidy his car was. There was a lingering scent of tobacco smoke and cologne that seemed to be embedded in the upholstered seats.

Javi lightly shut the door behind you before he made his way over to the driver's seat and climbed in before he started the engine. “I’ve let my guard down plenty of times, hermosa. I’m only human after all. Mistakes happen unfortunately. I do my best to avoid those kinds of situations from happening, but sometimes it’s truly out of our control.” He placed his arm around the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking spot. You felt the warm skin of his forearm lightly brush against your neck. It sent welcoming shivers down your spine.

“I understand what you’re saying. You are only human after all like you said. I have to ask, do you think you’re gonna catch him?” Javier knew you were referring to Pablo Escobar. A Spineless coward, who was violent, and frankly a piece of shit that Javier wanted nothing more to see him rot in an American prison.

“If we don’t catch him, then I personally have failed the people of Medellín. This city is beautiful, vibrant, and Escobar has done nothing but fucking taint it.” He inhaled deeply, shaking his head at the thought of this slimiest excuse of man slipping through the DEA’s grasp once again. “Do you mind if we..if we don’t talk about my job for the rest of the evening? You’re not prying, and I can’t fault you for being curious, but I don’t sleep much as it is because of everything that is going on.”

Javi was internally beating himself up for allowing himself to show a moment of weakness to you. He didn’t want you to know just how much being a DEA agent truly affected him. He didn’t want you to know about everything he had sacrificed, and lost, just to get to where he was. He certainly did not need you knowing that he thought of himself as a failure.

You were shocked to see that a layer of figuratively tough skin was being pulled back from Javier’s natural flirtatious and playboy persona that he performed so well. You could only imagine what he had experienced in his line of work. “Of course. I’m sorry for bringing it up in the first place, Javi.” You thought about saying more, but the last thing you wanted to do was come across as being disingenuous.

Javi glanced at you for a moment as he did a damn good job of hiding his smile when you had comfortably called him Javi, instead of Javier. “Cariño, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for being curious. You’re not the first person to ask me about my job, and you won’t be the last. How about we both agree to just..let work go for the evening. It’s your first night out in Medellín, and I want to make sure it’s a memorable one.”

You were looking over at him now from where you sat in the passenger seat. “Okay, deal. Let’s let work go for the rest of the evening.”

“Trato, cariño.”

You gave Javi the directions to your apartment. It was just a few miles from the office, but you were grateful for him driving you. He waited just outside your apartment door, as promised. His back was against the wall, cigarette pursed between his lips as he lit the tip of it with practiced ease. As he waited for you to finish getting ready, he pressed the base of his palm against his forehead, replaying the conversation he had with you in his head, over and over again. Is this what Catalina meant when she advised him to be nicer to you? Did she mean that he needed to be vulnerable? He hated being vulnerable. He hated showing any signs of emotions, or weakness. So why the hell did he find it to be so goddamn easy to open up to you?

Just as he was pondering over the possible answer to his disarray, your apartment door opened, ceasing his current thoughts when he took in your appearance with a heavy gulp.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You asked when you caught the DEA agent staring at you for far too long. You could feel your skin heating up under his gaze. Except this time, he wasn’t staring at you like he wanted nothing more than to take you back into your apartment and fuck you into your mattress.

Oh no, Javier Peña was staring at you with timid adoration. His brown swirled with warm flecks of cinnamon eyes gazing at you under the fluorescent hanging light alongside your apartment door. The tip of his cigarette blazing orange, creating a flicker between his and your eyes.

“No. I am simply just finding myself being transfixed by your beauty, hermosa.” The words flowed thoughtfully past his plush lips.

Shit.

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 2 days

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STILL ALIVE!

tobio kageyama learns to fall in love with the small things. although in his eyes, no thing is truly small as long as you're involved in it. a ruined kitchen for a strawberry tart is a small price to pay to admire your everyday.

gender neutral reader

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Tobio found out not too long after you moved in with him that he liked watching you while you worked your magic in the kitchen.

He was always a stickler for what he ate. Ever since he was young, the adults around him hammered the importance of food and its nutritious properties into his volleyball-filled head, and like the good boy he was, Tobio took everything they said with a great deal of respect and dedicated himself into his strict upkeep so that he could do his best on the court. Now as an adult, he adhered to a strict diet of nutritious vegetables and plenty of protein. But given that his mind was hyperfixated on volleyball and he was never one to get super creative in the kitchen, there was never much variety to his diet outside of his regular rotation of healthy meals tailor-made for a professional athlete’s needs.

Frankly speaking, he never thought he’d need too much variety. Tobio was a man of schedule, of regularity, of volleyball and volleyball only. Everything he did, from maintaining his nails whenever he got the chance to doing finger exercises with weights before bed, was to augment his skills as an athlete. His food was no exception. He wasn’t picky. All he needed was the proper nutrients to fuel his body, and as long as it didn’t taste horrendously awful, he was fine with it.

Once he started dating you though, he started eating other things more and more. At first it was ordering a slice of espresso-tinged tiramisu occasionally while on a date with you, and then it turned into you insisting on packing him a bento box whenever his practices and matches required for him to be out of the house all day. Next thing he knew, you’d greet him with a piping hot dinner whenever he trudged back home, and the aches in his limbs seemed to melt away as he wolfed down whatever you had whipped up while he was gone. It was never the same two meals in a row, and despite being unused to unpredictability, Tobio found himself looking forward to mealtimes specifically with you.

He learned early on in his life, thanks to his grandfather, that cooking for someone was an art just as much as it was an underappreciated act of love. And with each bite, he savored the love that you must have poured into it, just as much as he dedicated himself to perfecting his craft in order to show you how far your love took him. There were times he wished he was an eloquent man, a more romantic man, so that he could actually articulate all the fuzzy feelings overwhelming him whenever you made food for him.

But you didn’t need words to understand him.

And he loved you.

He barely stifled a smile as he sat a few feet away from the kitchen, where you were frantically scurrying around. He knew you were probably frazzled, desperately scrolling through the recipe websites that had videos and ads scattered throughout them to make it almost impossible to access the actual recipe. But the cacophony of your slightly annoyed exhales, the banging of pots and pans, and the clatter of glass plates being shifted around every now and then were like a sweet melody to Tobio.

He feigned interest in the match he was supposed to be studying, and he stole a glance across the living room to see you dump something into a big bowl before sticking your hands into the mixture. Tobio has loved you for as long as he has known you, but there was something especially calming and bewitching about seeing you do something so ordinary. He stared at you with a softness in his eyes he couldn’t quite describe, a softness that he wasn’t even aware was there half of the time, as he watched you let out little grunts to work whatever tough dough you were kneading.

The apron you insisted on wearing was already skewed, and he knew that by the end of your little cooking session, the apron would have done nothing to keep your clothes from getting covered in bits of food. Your eyes were fixed downwards in concentration, the skin in between scrunched up cutely. Your sleeves were rolled up but not quite secure as you might have hoped, and Tobio could also see that in a few minutes they would probably become undone and you’d have to call him over to ask him to roll them up properly for you since your hands were covered in sticky dough.

Tobio believed love was in the little things. Love was in the way he’d accept an earful from his dietician from sneaking in one too many desserts that you insisted on him having. Love was in the way he let himself get distracted so he could watch you make a mess out of the kitchen counter, and he prayed that you never learned how to clean the countertop off thoroughly because he loved going over and wiping off the marks of sauce and flour with a clean dishrag of his own. Love was in the way you cheekily stole a lick of the sweet dough from your fingers before washing your hands off in the sink, your sleeves rolling down your forearms and wrists and the telltale loud yelp you let out when the sink water lapped at the edges.

“Tobio!” You cried out, yanking your hands away from the sink. A few water droplets dripped down from the back of your hands and alongside the silhouette of your fingers. Your hands were always so much smaller in comparison to his wide, calloused palms, and the drops of water fell helplessly onto the floor. “Can you help me roll my sleeves on?”

He acted as if he hadn’t been staring at you for more or less the entire time, and he hurriedly paused the match. He would have to rewind it and rewatch it later, but he had a much more urgent task at hand. You grinned at him as he shuffled his way into the kitchen, and you held your arms up.

“What are you making?” The smell of something sweet had been wafting through the house a long time ago, the notes of sugar and vanilla intermingling all throughout the atmosphere. The kitchen looked as if a hurricane had passed through it: a mountain of dirty tools splayed out on the table, flour spread across a section of the countertop, and the cabinet doors thrown open and not properly closed. Had he been someone else, or any less in love with you, he might have considered all of this as an eyesore or a mountain of impossible chores, but Tobio’s heart swelled so much in his chest that he felt like he was struggling to keep his usual stoic expression.

“A tart!” You announced proudly. His fingertips brushed against the delicate skin of your wrists as he folded your sleeves over, and he made sure they wouldn’t fall down again. “Do you remember the restaurant we had dinner at last week? The one where I got a slice of strawberry tart for dessert? Oh, I couldn’t stop thinking about it… So I decided I was going to try making it myself! You’ll have some once I finish making it, right?”

That’s if you actually manage to make it. The thought bubbled to the forefront of Tobio’s mind, accompanied with a defeated but still adoring smile. It looked like he was in for another long lecture about watching his sugar consumption from his dietician, but he would gladly take an eon of scoldings than pass up on a chance to eat the treats you made.

He picked up the tart crust sitting in its pan, and he gestured towards the heated oven. “Why don’t we put this in the oven to bake first? But yeah, I would love to have a slice once you’re done.”

You beamed at him, laughing sheepishly at your airheadedness before stepping aside for him to maneuver the delicate tart crust into the oven. If he looked closely, he could see where you had filled the holes in the crust with extra dough. Bits and pieces of the edges were lumpy and not quite fully adhered to the shape of the pan. He already knew it wouldn’t look anything like the pretty store-bought crusts or the expertly crafted ones in the bakeries around town, but judging from the fingerprints etched into the dough and your giddiness, Tobio would happily pass it off as a Michelin star pastry if anyone cared for his opinion.

“You’re the best!” You gushed at him as he walked past, and he let a flash of pride light up the inside of his chest as he settled back down in the living room. You hummed some tune slightly out of pitch as he settled back down into the couch, turning the game back on. The sounds of commentary and the players quickly melted into background noise when he found his eyes sneaking back over to you, splashing water all over the surrounding areas of the sink as you rinsed the strawberries in order to chop them up.

The bright crimson of the fruit stood in contrast to your skin, and Tobio’s eyes crawled all over the shape of your pinched fingers. You carefully sliced them up to the size you wanted, the knife marks a little jagged and not super straight. But they were perfect in your eyes, so they were also perfect in Tobio’s eyes. He can imagine the sour pangs of the fruit in his own mouth when you chow down on a handful of strawberry pieces that didn’t quite make your cut. Your fingertips, the cutting board, and a small part of your apron was stained with the pink, sticky strawberry juice, but you looked so proud scooping up the bits of strawberry and setting them aside.

None of this was particularly special, but Tobio admired you from afar as if his vision had been coated over with honey. But he lived for these small moments, lived for the trivial everyday parts, like you dancing around in the kitchen with strawberry juice and dough bits stuck to you, and Tobio would be mesmerized all the same as if he was staring at you at the wedding altar. And god, does he hope a day like that might come, where he can make these small scenes a promised reality for the rest of his life, taking in the beauty from places you would never have expected and uncovering different ways for him to fall in love with you all over again.

He wished the thirty minute timer you set for the tart crust to bake could last forever. He could die a happy man, right here and now, eyes fixed on you until the end of time as you happily turned the kitchen upside-down in order to satisfy your craving for a sweet treat. He loved the way you approached life with a newfound vigor that bled into his own day-to-day, turning his bland and predictable meals into something for him to look forward to, be it a recipe you pulled from a social media website or you doing your best to recreate the dishes he enjoyed so much in his childhood. You always went the extra mile for him, the same way he did for you. Tobio didn’t need any grand gestures of love, nor was he one for anything like that, and he would rather learn how to love and be loved through these small, continual motions that came and went like the gentle pull of the waves to the silver-tinted moon.

But for now, he let the softness of the couch envelop him as he watched you from across the room, the pitter-patter of your bare feet on the kitchen tile like the sounds of wedding bells. He didn’t need to taste the unfinished strawberry tart to know that he was going to taste every bit of it like it was his last meal, swallowing the warmth back like an oath and a promise, to cherish and love you for as long as this life would let him.

Nothing could be sweeter.

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kageyama tobio #x reader #my writing #did u guys miss me :3 #cuz FAWK i forgor how much fun writing is i missed yall sm

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hee0soo · 1 year

Text

Only for you

Summary: You surprise your boyfriend after he comes back from tour and spend some time with him!

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

Hongjoong often did not have time for you. Being busy writing and producing for the group and having just come back from a world tour after all!

He and the members were tired and had a few days to recharge before their schedule got hectic again but right now he was at the dorm doing absolutely nothing.

The leader didn´t get the chance to do that very often and his members tried to stay clear of him when he finally rested for a bit. Only one thing could make his rest period even better. And that was you!

You had missed the boy terribly while he was away. Time zones making it almost impossible for you to be awake at the same time so the two of you only send short messages of good morning, good night or I miss you´s to the other with the occasional video call here and there.

Now you finally had the chance of visiting him in the dorm! Hongjoong didn´t know you were coming since it was a Wednesday and you would usually be at work until late in the evening. That you had taken a day of to spend some well needed time with him was only known by Seonghwa, Yunho, San and Wooyoung!

The other members had used their free time to spend time with their friends or at the gym!

Hongjoong was sitting in the living room when you arrived at their dorm. He was busy watching some random Drama he wasn´t even following that much, while hanging on his phone! Waiting for you to text him!

Seonghwa let you in before vanishing in the bath room. Weeks of being away had kick started his cleaning habit and now that he had the time, and half of the members were out of the way, he would use it!

“Who was it?” the leader pondered, not looking up from his phone.

Instead of an answer, he felt himself getting embraced into a tight hug from behind. Not expecting the sudden contact, the leader flinched hard. Almost throwing his phone across the room while doing so!

“Easy! It’s just me!”

You teased the shocked man in your arms.

The man recognized your voice immediately and calmed down.

“Don`t do thaaat! What are you even doing here? I thought you were working today.” He whined looking up at you.

“Took the day off! Wanted to spend it with you instead!”

Kissing his little pout lightly you ruffled his hair a bit, before walking around him to take place on the couch with the leader.

Hongjoong pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss of his own to the crown of your head.

His phone slipped out of his hand. His entire focus being on you now!

“God I missed you love!” he sighed and hid his face in your hair, tickling his nose a bit.

“Missed you too! I´m glad your back!”

You started playing with the rings on his hand, admiring the one identical to yours.

It was a promise ring he had given you after 2 years of being together. Just a simple band but it meant the world to you!

“Your nail polish is a bit chipped…”

“Hmm, hit it on the corner of a table and it chipped of. I have to fix it before filming idol Radio tomorrow!”

Excitedly you looked at him.

“Can I do it?”

Hongjoong had to laugh at the anticipation on your face.

“Sure, why not? You know where everything is?”

Nodding quickly you jumped up and ran into his shared room with Seonghwa. The eldest member looked confused as you barreled past him. Making him almost drop his cleaning supplies in the process!

Holding the little bag with everything you needed to fix his nail, you skipped back to the couch and your boyfriend.

“DO NOT DRIP THE POLISH ON MY COUCH!”

Hongjoong burst out laughing at his member’s threat.

You pouted at the fact that the boy thought you would drip it anywhere at all!

Since Hongjoong only ever wore polish on one nail, you were very quickly done.

He watched as you concentrated on painting his nail smoothly and without any messy lines. Careful to make it look presentable to be on camera!

“Want me to do yours after this dries?” he offered as the polish dried slowly.

Nodding your head you quickly picked the color you liked most out of the very few he had, as he mostly wore black.

That´s how San and Wooyoung found the two of you as they left Yunho´s room where they were having a movie marathon!

You were sitting on the floor, hands placed on the coffee table while Hongjoong was on the couch, bent over to paint your own nails y/f/c!

“Hey y/n! Are you having fun?” Wooyoung grinned at you while going through the cupboards to make some ramen.

San was eyeing his leaders work scrutinizing.

“You missed a spot right there!”

The boy stepped back when Hongjoong glared at him.

Hands held high in surrender he sauntered over to where Wooyoung was preparing 2 bowls for them.

“Hyung can you paint our nails too?” they continued teasing.

Hongjoong took one of the cushions to throw them at the duo. Almost as if Seonghwa felt a disturbance in the force, he appeared in the doorway. Swiffer still in his hand!

“Kim Hongjoong!”

“But they-“

Seonghwa glared at his friend. So much so that your boyfriend jumped up to get the cushion laying on the kitchen floor.

“That´s better!” with that the eldest disappeared.

You giggled at the baffled and slightly terrified face Hongjoong made together with WooSan.

The troublesome duo half expected you to get scolded but their leader only shot them a dirty look before sitting in back down to finish what he started, looking softly down at you.

“He´s so whipped for them!” you could hear San whisper into his friend’s ear.

Hongjoong ignored them on purpose this time, not wanting to get scolded again!

“You know they´re right, right? You are whipped!” you smiled at him happily.

Hongjoong lifted his eyes from your hands to your face, closing the distance between your lips gently.

“Only for you my love!”

In the kitchen, WooSan were gagging at seeing their Hyung so in love.

#ateez #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong imagine #hongjoong x y/n #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #kpop writing #kim hongjoong x y/n #ateez x reader #kpop x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong

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brainrotcharacters · 4 months

Text

Colors

ship: Klahadore/Kuro x reader

summary: For Kaya's upcoming birthday, the best painter in town had been commissioned for a portrait of her. Never mind your secret crush on her butler. This was a chance to continue the sketch you've been working on, as well.

a/n: requested by @angeli-fucking-cat

tags: I pretend I'm a painter (I'm a writer), events take place before episode 3, cliffhanger Kuro, etc.

You made another brushstroke when you asked again. "Are you sure you don't want to take a break?"

"I'm alright." Kaya remained in her seat. Klahadore stood to the side, smiling faintly at your thoughtfulness. "I don't want to take up too much of your time."

The glare you gave Kaya was softened by the affection in your smile. "I've been painting for most of my time, Kaya. I'm happy to do it," You dip your brush into a darker shade of gold, to match the shade of her hair. "Especially for a friend's birthday."

Eighteen. Kaya was going to be of age in a matter of days. Klahadore had commissioned you to paint a portrait of the celebrant; your hidden affections for the man aside, you made good progress on the piece. Never mind the fact that each time Klahadore stood over your shoulder to praise how lifelike your painting was, he stood significantly close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath on your ear.

Kaya smiled softly, then conceded. "Well, I do feel a knot in my neck—"

Another coughing fit escaped her mouth, and Klahadore was there, gently ushering her from her chair and onto her bed. Her tea already waited at the bedside table.

You committed the image to memory, how Klahadore's gloved hands firmly, steadily grasped Kaya's arm, as you reach for the sketchbook in your bag. It wasn't strange for you to switch between mediums, but as you flip to the page of the half-finished sketch of Klahadore, you did your best to discreetly angle it so Klahadore and Kaya remained in front of you.

Kaya attempted to speak, to apologize in the middle of her wheezing, but you insisted. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We have all the time in the world." You caught the butler's eye. "Let me know if we'll be fit to continue."

"Of course." he smiled politely, gratefully, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling. You look back at your sketch.

The side of Kuro's lips twitched upwards as his eyes lingered on you. Then he shifted his attention back to Kaya, to the mission.

Kaya was coughing too much to continue the portrait, but she offered that you could stay the night if you wanted, even teasing that you can't refuse if you had so much time on your hands as you claimed. When Klahadore doubled down on the teasing, you half heartedly took your tools into a spare bedroom, joking that you would get back at them somehow.

You wander the corridors of the mansion now, under the moonlight casted through the windows. Both charcoal and paint mixed on the pads of your fingers as you blend the lines that sketched Klahadore's jawline.

You take a left turn, perching onto a windowsill with especially marvelous moonlight. Lamplight, or sunlight even, looked too harsh for this singular piece of Klahadore. You continued to work in peaceful silence, adding a curve here, an edge there…

Kuro approached your spot, footsteps soft, and hummed lowly over your shoulder. "Oh, dear."

You yelp, angling your sketchbook the other way. But too late. "Klahadore! You scared me."

"My apologies," he smiled softly. "I couldn't help but be curious about what you had been sketching…"

"Careful. You know what curiosity does to cats." you murmur to yourself, scraping the edge of your sketchbook using your nails.

It was a nervous habit that made Kuro smile wider. "I am flattered, believe me. However, I haven't given you my permission nor my consent to create my self portrait. In light of Miss Kaya's birthday."

You open your mouth. Then closed it. And opened it again. "I-I have no excuse. I didn't plan to show this one to anybody, anyway."

"Good." he said. "It shall be our little secret."

Your eyes shot to him, and his sly smile. Did he know about your affections? Or was he bluffing? All the observation skills of a painter and yet you couldn't read his damn face.

"Please don't stay up so late," he reached out to gently clasp one of your hands between both of his own. The closest you've gotten to touching him thus far. "There is no need to hide your art from me. I'd hate to see your health decrease, after all."

In the moonlight, the way your pupils dilated was clear for Kuro to see. A faint blush comes to your cheeks as you nod, softly pulling your hand away. He allows you to. "Thank you. Good night, Klahadore."

"Good night, Miss Y/n."

You walked past him, but if you'd have glanced behind, you would've seen the expression in his face harden. Sharpen as he considered how you would participate in his mission.

#one piece live action #opla kuro #opla klahadore #kuro klahadore #klahadore x reader #kuro x reader #one piece

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redwinterroses · 2 years

Text

Rendog dreams.

"So you're trying the whole king thing again, huh boss?"

He's standing on the balcony of the Crastle and he whirls around, snatching the tiny crown off his head as if he's been caught doing something shameful. "Martyn?"

Martyn leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and one foot propped up on the doorframe. He's got a smirk on his face and an arrow in his throat.

"What?" he asks, raising one eyebrow the sardonic way he always does, apparently unbothered by the fatal wound. "Surprised to see me?"

"To be frank," Ren says, disbelieving, "Yeah?"

"I heard my old boss was setting up as head honcho again." Martyn shrugs. "Couldn't miss out on that."

There's crimson staining the grey edges of the Hand's smile, and his once-emerald eyes are flat and glassy. Ren swallows down a feeling that's somewhere between guilt and horror and guilt over feeling horror.

"It's... good to see you," he manages, turning the tiny crown in sweaty circles. His thumb catches on the prongs holding the emerald in place. "It's been a long time, bro."

A shadow darkens Martyn's grey face and he looks past Ren, into the cloudy sky beyond. There's a storm building on the horizon. "Yeah," he says, and some note in his voice makes Ren's fur stand on end. "I don't... get out much, these days."

A moment of awkward silence hovers over them, and Ren finds himself itchy with restless frustration. They never used to have awkward silence. Whether it was him mumbling enchantments or Martyn going over lists of assets, whether it was Ren trying to explain the oddities of Hermitcraft or Martyn telling hilarious stories that got progressively more unbelievable but he swore were true... Silence had never been the sound of Dogwarts.

"Why?"

Ren jumps when Martyn's voice breaks the silence like a hammer to glass. "What?"

Martyn pushes himself upright and takes a step closer, letting his arms fall to his sides. It's not threatening, but Ren finds his feet shuffling backwards anyway. He clutches the crown tighter.

"Why again with the king shtick?" Martyn's dead eyes drill into Ren's soul. "One fallen kingdom isn't enough for you?"

Ren swallows, reaching one hand behind him to feel for the edge of the balustrade. "I... I dunno, man. I guess—I guess I thought maybe I could... do better this time."

Martyn huffs an unamused half-laugh. "I mean, you could hardly do worse."

That stings, and Ren can't stop himself from wincing. "I'm sorry, Martyn, I didn't mean to—'

"No no—sorry." Martyn holds up one placating hand and Ren sees the dirt and blood caked under his nails. "My bad. That sounded a bit harsh, didn’t it.”

“You’re not wrong, though.” Ren’s shoulders sag and he looks down at the crown. “We never stood a chance back… back there.”

“We could have won,” Martyn says, and Ren looks up to find him tensing his jaw. “You could have tried.” The arrow in his neck trembles.

There's blood staining the front of his shirt, Ren notices distantly. It's still wet.

"To what ending, dude? The two of us go head-to-head on Black Heart Altar?" Ren gives a nervous laugh. "Nah, man: that game only had one winner. And it was never going to be us."

They stand in silence for a moment, the mountain wind blowing between them.

"I fought for you." The words are out before Ren consciously thinks them, and he flinches at the way they fall from his mouth like stones.

Martyn tilts his head. "You did," he agrees, but it sounds like an accusation. "And I fought for you."

"I would have given you that victory." The confession is heavy, weighted with truth and resentment.

Martyn doesn’t look surprised. “Yeah. I know you would have.” I wouldn’t have done the same. He doesn’t speak the words, but Ren hears them anyway. Martyn’s a pragmatist—he’d have fought for everything he was worth. Like he had a world to gain or lose—though Ren shudders to think what living alone in that blood-soaked world would have been like.

He thinks he knows why Grian jumped.

The stone railing under his hand is cold and pitted, the marble worn by wind and time, and he can feel the wind curling up from the valley below, ruffling the fur on the back of his neck.

“Do you think you can do it this time?” Martyn asks. He takes another step forward, and it takes everything in Ren not to move away. His Hand is within arm’s reach, his grey skin papery and dry, and his cracked lips forming the question with what sounds like idle curiosity but feels like a threat.

Ren deliberately relaxes his fists. Martyn is not a threat. Not his Hand.

“Do—do what?” he manages, throat dry.

“Keep your crown.” Martyn raises one hand and reaches to touch the tiny crown with the tip of one finger—delicate, as if he might break it. “Think you can do that, in a world with less to lose?”

In a world without your Red Army? Can you at least manage that much?

Ren no longer knows what words are Martyn’s and what are his own mind’s. “I—” he stammers, leaning back against the railing. Martyn’s eyes don’t blink, and this close he can see where the skin of his gums is pulling away from the teeth—teeth that look longer and sharper than they should.

“I think you’re trying to prove a point.” Now Martyn lifts that lifeless hand to rest it on Ren’s shoulder, a dark mockery of the casual and friendly way he always had. Camaraderie decays into menace, heavier than a dozen crowns.

“I… I am?” Words stick in Ren’s throat, dry and choking. Martyn would never hurt me. Not willingly. Not Martyn.

“Yup.” Martyn pops the ‘p’, and a wafting breath of rot reaches Ren’s nostrils. “You’re trying to prove that no matter what world you’re in, you can never win.”

Bristling, Ren straightens. “That’s utterly ridiculous—”

“You want to prove that it’s not your fault,” Martyn continues, talking over Ren like he can’t even hear him. “That if you can’t hold onto a crown here—” he almost spits the word, a spasm of distaste contorting his features. “—in a world with nothing to lose, then of course you couldn’t have done it there.”

His fingers—bony and cold—dig into Ren’s shoulder, sharp and clawlike. Ren winces, but he can’t pull free. Martyn leans close, his dead face inches from Ren’s own. The arrow in his throat presses into Ren’s chest, and his voice is hard:

“You want to prove you didn’t get us all killed.”

“Not true!” Ren’s knees buckle under the weight of Martyn’s hand, and he sags back against the balustrade. “I did everything I could to—”

“No.” Martyn shakes his head, and the hand on Ren’s shoulder moves to grip his throat. He forces Ren’s head up and back, to look up at the towers of the Crastle rising over their heads. “You didn’t then, and you’re not now. You could be a king, Ren—but you give up too soon. And who pays the price?”

Skizz. Etho. BigB.

Ren swallows, gulping for precious air.

Bdubs.

Cleo—Iskall—Joe—Scar—

He drops the crown, the heavy gold clattering to the stone floor with an ear-piercing ring. He reaches up to grip Martyn’s wrist with both hands, trying not to flinch at the cold, unyielding, dead flesh.

“Martyn—please. I’ll try—I’ll really try, I swear—”

“No.”

Martyn’s voice is as hard as his hand, but there’s something like pity mixed with the disgust and disappointment in his face.

“No, mate, you’re going to fall this time too. You already set your own trap.” He shakes his head and lifts Ren off the ground, holding him by the neck as if he weighs nothing. Ren chokes, feet scrabbling for purchase, the stone railing knocking into the backs of his knees.

“Martyn—”

“Long live the king, Ren. Better luck next time.”

And Martyn drops him over the edge.

Ren falls, reaching for his Hand, a scream stillborn in his throat.

He wakes before he hits the ground.

Rendog snaps upright in bed with a choked cry, hand flying to his chest to clutch at his heart through the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt. His pulse pounds in his ears and he can feel the telltale chill of tears in the damp fur on his cheeks and neck. In the dim moonlight, his eyes find a golden gleam across the room.

The tiny crown sits on his dresser, its emerald eye winking at him. Mocking him.

Long live the king.

He shivers. There was no mistaking the threat, spoken through Martyn’s voice.

Better luck next time.

...Next time.

#never going to be normal about dogwarts so. here. have some spooky ominous creepy halloween fare #set sometime like. two weeks ago just before the King's Labyrinth #inthelittlewood #rendog #itlw #tw zombies #<-not really? but for filtering #tw blood #tw falling #redwinterwrites

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Deadly, Deadly.

Pairing: Yandere!Yae Miko x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Mentions of Death, Abusive Power Dynamics, and Unhealthy Relationships.

The bowl sitting before you contained exactly eight red berries.

You should know – you’d been counting them, over and over again, for the past ninety minutes. Eight tiny, identical, glossy pearls just dredged up from the ocean’s floor and painted a stunning shade of scarlet that reflected your blood-soaked, distorted reflection more and more uncannily with each passing second. You’d recognized them as soon as one of her shrine maidens placed the bowl in front of you: Serpent’s Eye, named for their color, their tendency to grow in close proximity to Orobashi’s remains, and their highly debated toxicity. In some villages, it was said that a quarter of a berry would be enough to kill a grown man in an instant, while others claimed that it’d take no less than two or three to render their victim fully dead, rather than just in a state very near to death.

You were sure, however, that everyone would agree that eight would be enough to do the trick.

Quite honestly, she probably could've gotten away with four.

You glanced away from the bowl, over the table, towards where Yae sat across from you. She’d been smiling since she asked you to join her in her private chambers, but her grin seemed to widen, now, her ears twitching upwards as her rarely-seen tail slowly curled and twisted behind her. “Don’t be shy,” She encouraged, her eyes taking on a brightness you didn’t trust. “Have a bite. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get my hands on these.”

You would. Any commercial sale of Serpent’s Eye was banned, and the only place it grew domestically was in highly guarded plots controlled exclusively by the Shogunate. Even Yae wouldn’t be able to come across a batch easily, despite her connections. Or, you hoped it'd be difficult for her, at least. You couldn’t imagine much good coming out of something so dangerous being dropped directly into hands as talented as hers.

Your mouth felt dry. You’d only been here for an hour and a half, but she hadn’t given you anything to drink, and you hadn’t eaten since the early hours of the morning. Your legs were starting to go numb from kneeling, but Yae seemed unaffected, unbothered. She hadn’t moved since you'd been brought in, save to cross her arms over the wooden tabletop and prop her chin on a curled fist, her posture as perfect and as purposeful as always.

There was only one door, and it'd been locked from the outside shortly after you'd stepped over the threshold. You couldn't see any windows, or obscured trapdoors, and it would've taken a small miracle for you to overpower Yae, let alone hold the advantage for as long as it'd take you to actually get away.

You briefly considered pretending to faint, but she wouldn’t fall for that. Or, if she did, you didn’t want to take the chance that she’d be willing to stand her ground until you woke up.

“My Lady,” You tried, instead, putting on a pathetic imitation of her careless smile. “While I appreciate your graciousness, I couldn’t possibly accept a gift so—” Lethal. “—rare. I’d simply never be able to repay you.”

“Oh, I could think of a few things you could do for me.” Cloying, clawing, as sweet as it was pointed. You felt your cheeks flush, humiliation momentarily winning over your mounting dread, but it was a short-lived distraction, gone as soon as you realized you wouldn’t be alive long enough to be coaxed into her bed ever again, if she got her way. “But as you said, this is a gift, and it requires no repayment. Please, indulge yourself. I insist.”

Had you done something to upset her? Or, had she simply decided your slow, wretched death would provide her more entertainment than the rest of your slow, wretched life? It was hard to tell with Yae, hard to decipher her intentions when she dragged her sharpened nails over your cheek, or mentioned off-handedly how adorable you’d look with a silver collar to match her golden earrings, or sat you down in front of a bowl of berries that would leave you dead in a matter of seconds. It was hard to tell if she truly loathed you so intensely, or if she was simply charmed by the idea of watching the life drain out of your eyes.

As if it made much of a difference. Either route would lead to the same destination – your body, lying limp and lifeless at her feet, and the most poisonous substance in all of Inazuma lodged halfway down your throat.

And yet, you tried to stray from the path regardless, even if you were sure she could bring about your demise just as easily among the trees as she could on the beaten trail. “My Lady, I’m just not sure if this is…”

“If it’s what, dearest?”

You swallowed, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “I’m just not sure if this is safe.”

She hummed for a moment, considering it.

Then, she allowed her head to lull to the side, her ears now pressed flat against her scalp. “You’re absolutely right,” She admitted, with a small, vague gesture. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest, and you moved to thank her, but she went on before you had the chance to spit anything out. “You mortals are awfully high-maintenance, aren’t you? I almost forget how quickly things as simple as starvation can get to you, sometimes.”

You felt something fall and crack open in your chest. Again, you opened your mouth, but she didn’t seem to have any interest in your input, leaning back as she continued further. “I mean, I know I’d be fine if I went, say, three or four days without food or water, and the time would pass in the blink of an eye, but a creature with a disposition as fragile as yours?” She clicked her tongue, shook her head. “I’d hate to have to watch you do something so terrible to yourself - and over such a petty matter, nonetheless. You really ought to get it over with.”

For a second, then another, you didn’t move, remaining utterly still for much, much longer than Yae would ever allow herself to. Tears began to blur your vision, but for whatever reason, you couldn't seem to bring yourself to care.

Then, as quickly as you could, you took up a single berry, shoved it past your lips, and bit down before you could convince yourself to—

Oh.

It was more sweeter than you’d expected it to be.

Sweet, but not offensively so, with just a hint of something rough and acidic underneath it. It had seeds, too, something Shogunate-employed cultivators should’ve never allowed in such a hazardous plant, and…

You paused, taking another berry in your fingertips and rolling it towards you, so you could better see the spot where the stem would’ve met the main body. On a Serpent’s Eye, it would’ve been nothing, a pinprick of black on an otherwise flawless surface, but this wasn’t even comparable, the point of conntact larger than the head of a needle and very visibly greyish-violet. Shock made your thoughts slow and sluggish, but its name came to you quickly enough, relief and anger following in tandem after it.

“Shogun’s Forgiveness,” You mumbled, under your breath. Yae nodded, pushing herself to her feet, half-heartedly attempting to dampen her smirk into something less condescending. “I thought these went extinct half a century ago.”

“Why else would they be so much trouble to find? Luckily, an old friend of mine had a few seeds tucked away for such an occasion. I thought you’d appreciate it, as someone who wasn’t there to enjoy their unique taste." Yae sighed, the sound airy and labored, as if it'd been some great effort to watch you come to terms with your own poisoning. "And to think, we could’ve had this conversation hours ago, if you only trusted me a tiny bit more.”

She came to stand behind you, her tail brushing over your shoulders and down the length of your back as she bent down, lowering herself to your height. “You really don’t need to be so paranoid, beloved. After all…”

Her hand came to rest on your shoulder, her lips ghosting over the corner of your jaw in something you could’ve called a kiss, and suddenly, all you could taste was ash.

“I’d never give up such a entertaining little toy so easily.”

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