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wandering-winchesters · 10 months

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Take Me Back

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,442

Summary: Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron, might be multiple parts dependent on how this one goes over.

Trigger Warnings: None really, language and angst.

A/N: I apologize for how long it has been since I have posted. It has honestly been a crazy month. After closing on my house, my grandfather passing away, getting everything settled... My husband and I found out that we are expecting our first child. So, it has been a crazy time. I hope you enjoy this fic, it has been bouncing around my brain for awhile.

All of You

Laughter erupts from my parted lips, Deans fingertips digging into the curve of my waist. His movements causing me to almost drop the jar of sauce that I am holding.

“You’re an ass, De.” I chuckle, swatting his hands away from my side where he was just tickling my skin.

“Mmm no, but you have a nice one.” He grins followed by a smirk as he grabs a handful of my ass through the fabric of my jeans. I again, swat his hand away. I roll my eyes at him and return to the spot I had been standing before he decided to annoy me. “I am trying to make you dinner here, idiot. The more you pester me, the longer it will take me to finish this damn lasagna.” I finish layering the sauce on top of the noodles and sprinkle the mozzarella cheese on top, before Dean gets in my way again. He reaches into the bag of cheese and pinches some between his fingers, before dropping it into his open mouth. He repeats the action, but instead of placing in his mouth, he drops it onto my head, a shit eating grin plastered across his face. I swear under my breath, sliding the lasagna into the oven and turning on my heel. A towel gripped in my hand, I start to twirl it around with the intention of smacking him in the leg with it, but he sees my plan and stops me by pinning my wrist to my side.

“Oh no you don’t, I know that trick all too well.” He laughs, presses a kiss to my forehead and draws me into his arms. Our laughter settles, turning to small chuckles and then silence. I rest my forehead against his chest and inhale deeply, taking in every ounce of him. Every second of this moment, the peace not something to take for granted.

“I love you.” I whisper, snuggling closer to him.

“I love you, more.” Dean replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Most of You

"You're not coming, Y/N. It's too dangerous, that's my final answer." Dean growls, his back turned to me as he angrily zips up his duffle. The cloth of his t-shirt gettings caught in the zipper, his anger towards me coming out on his belongings.

"Since when, is that for you to decide Dean? You are not in charge of me. You never have been, you never will be." I bite back, harshly wiping away the tears that had formed at the corner of my eyes. "I might not be as good as you, or as strong as you, but I am not and idiot!" I yell, my voice growing louder with every word that I threw back at him. My body is shaking, anger pulsing through my veins. Its at that moment that I can see his demeanor completely change, his shoulders drop and his face softens towards me.

"Y/N, I don't think you're an idiot. Sweetheart, I just don't want you to get hurt. That's all, there have been too many close calls recently and I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you." His hands rub my arms, gently bringing warmth back to my skin. I nod, his words still stung but the anger was beginning to subside.

"I love you, sweetheart, please just stay here." I did as he asked, again. The amount of time that I had spent alone recently, was absurd. His overprotectiveness had become overbearing. It was cute at first, but now it was suffocating. Even when he was home and we were together, it was nothing like it used to be.

Some of You

The motel bed quickly grew cold, the sheets no longer radiating the heat from Deans sleeping body. I wince, pulling myself up into a sitting position and carefully propping up against the bed-frame. My ribs sore and radiating pain from where I had been thrown up against the wall, by a less than friendly casper. I had talked Dean into letting me come with him, since Sam was otherwise occupied. It had been a job to convince him to let me come, he had insisted it was a bad idea. That I could get hurt. Or that something worse could happen. I had insisted on coming with him, the desire to be near him outweighed the risks in my mind. He had eventually given in, my puppy dog eyes and the promise of cuddling him every night was enough to get my way. However, I don't think it will ever be enough to convince him again. I had been distracted, for half a second, which gave the spirit a moment to swoop in and throw me across the room. It had knocked me unconscious, Dean's voice and hands shaking me awake. His eyes wide and full of absolute fear.

He hadn't said much to me since then, he had brought me back to the motel, cleaned my wounds and insisted that we went to bed. I tossed and turned most of the night, until Dean got up and took a shower. I let my head fall back against the wall, inhaling a deep breath and steeling my nerve for when Dean emerges from the bathroom.

He finally does, his eyes locking with mine almost immediately.

"Hi," I whisper, giving him a small smile. One that he doesn't return, he rolls his eyes and turns his back to me in order to finish getting dressed. My heart jumps to my throat, hurt rising from his blatant attitude of anger towards me.

"Dean, you cant ignore me forever." I say, hoping to get him to engage with me in any form of communication. I brace myself for his response, knowing that it isn't going to be a kind reaction. "I told you that it wasn't a good idea for you to come with me! Y/N, I knew something like this would happen! You got hurt, this is why I didn't want you to come! You're so clumsy and you were distracted and if I hadn't been there, you would have died!" Dean snaps, his eyes dark and cold. The love that they used to hold for me no longer at the forefront of his gaze.

"Dean, it was an accident. Accidents happen, I'm okay baby." I whisper, silently begging him to look at me. But it didn't work, the silent treatment still his most used tactic.

We left the motel a few hours later, silence still hanging between us and headed back to the bunker. No matter what I tried, he was just quiet. He was angrier now, meaner and nowhere near as gentle with me. The question of what changed floated through my head on a constant, the answer hanging just out of reach.

None of You

I set my final box down, inside the doorway to the apartment. It feels cold and empty, an unforgiving space that I would do anything to leave behind. The bunker had been my home for years and the thought of going back to living alone was a depressing and painful thought. Dean simply didn't love me anymore, the words had come straight from his mouth. Whether they were from anger or fear, I never let him explain. We had been fighting too often, his words were no longer kind and understanding, they were brutal and designed to hit me where it hurts. He had become bitter and mean, the man that I had fallen in love with had changed, no matter how hard I tried to stop it. I clung to the good, but it just wasn't enough.

I slid down the wall, my back pressed against it, bringing my knees to my chest. I pull my phone from my pocket, the lock screen still the picture of Dean leaning against the Impala. On one of the days where we had managed to have a few minutes of peace. The calm before the ever present storm.

4:57 P.M. Sam: hey, all your stuff is gone. Dean is drunk and won't talk to me. Are you okay? 7:15 P.M. Sam: Y/N, please just let me know you are okay. I won't say a word to Dean if that's what it takes. I'm worried. 8:17 P.M. Y/N: I'm okay Sam. I moved out. I'll let him tell you why.

I turned my phone off, ignoring the several missed calls from Dean's cellphone and the dozen or so voicemails that he had left. It was too little too late, his words from our last fight still stung.

For so long, it had been Dean and I against everything. The demons of this world and the next. Until one day, where everything changed. The other shoe finally dropped and it was me against him.

I have to figure out how to stand on my own two feet once again, as painful as it is.

Take me back, to the night we met.

“I need another, please.” I slide my empty glass towards the bartender behind the counter. The ice clinks against the glass, a reminder of the margarita that I had quickly finished. The bartender nods, grabbing my empty and quickly replacing it with another. I thank him and continue to scroll aimlessly through my phone, sipping from the cold liquid, the liquor just strong enough to sting as it goes down. The pit in my stomach, slowly decreasing as the liquor dulls my sense.

“Bad day?” It’s at that moment, that I notice the man sitting to my left. I look at him for a second, taking in the sight before my eyes. He’s tall, from the look of it. His legs are long, stretched down to the floor instead of the footrest on the barstool. His eyes are a piercing green, to the point where if I didn’t know better, I would say that he was staring into my soul. I blink again, shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts.

“One of the worst I’ve had as of late.” I sigh, resorting to taking another sip of my drink. He chuckles and slides over to the barstool directly next to mine. He signals to the bartender to get both of us another drink, even though I have barely made a dent on my current one.

“Tell me about it.” He says, his directness catches me off guard. I look at him again, scanning his face for any kind of deception or bad intention. Yet, there is none. I find myself yearning to trust him, even though he is a total stranger to me. His demeanor one that just pulls you in as soon as you lay eyes on them.

“Why? Are you going to drug me and take me hostage?” I ask, placing my elbow on the bar and swiveling my stool in such a way that I can look at him without having to crane my neck. He laughs again, clear and deep. His eyes crinkling in the most attractive way possible. “Dammit, Sweetheart, you have foiled my oh so evil plan.” He hesitates, looking at me, studying me. “But really, why is such a pretty woman having such a shit day?” I hesitate, killing time by taking a long sip from my margarita, I brush the hair back out of my face and look at him once again.

“I lost my job. Something about ‘budget cuts’, but in reality it’s because I wouldn’t sleep with my boss.” I expect him to tease me, call me a prude and then a slut in the same sentence.

“Want me to go beat him up for you? I will, no strings.” He offers, the look on his face incredibly serious. I laugh, expecting him to join in, but he doesn’t.

“You know what rubs salt in the wound?” I ask and he raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. “When I turned him down, he called me a whore. Told me I was ugly and wasn’t worth his time. Which is just ridiculous, he had spent months harassing me.” I shake my head, draining the last of my second drink and turning to the third, the one mystery green eyes bought for me.

“Well, if I ever run into this asshole, which I hope that I do, I will make sure he knows who the bad guy is. I’m sorry you had to deal with him. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time or concern.” His words are sharp, but pointed and direct. Yet they make me feel slightly better about the bad day I had been having. “What’s your name, green eyes?” I ask him, changing the subject in an attempt to keep him invested in our conversation.

“Dean, yours?” He responds, his body bladed towards my own, eyes never leaving my face.

“Y/N.”

We talked for hours at that bar, until last call. The conversation ranging from light and humorous, to the darker parts of our lives that weren’t often discussed. For such a gorgeous man who I gladly would’ve accepted one night with, it seemed as though fate would have it another way. He insisted on driving me home, stating that I was much too intoxicated to walk home. I didn’t argue, he was right. I had continued drinking long after he switched from beer to water. Even though I knew the dangers of getting into a strangers car, they didn’t phase me. I already felt safe with him, even though I couldn’t put a finger on why.

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked him, my fingers hooked into the pockets on his jacket. A motion intended to draw myself closer to him, but the alcohol in my veins had different plans. I wobbled, dangerously near falling off my porch. Dean gripped my forearms, tugging me tight against his chest to stop me from falling. A motion that caused a wave of dizziness to sweep across my sense, once I regained composure I looked up at him. His green eyes focused on my face, I could feel his want for me in this moment. He smiled, kissed my forehead and gently pushed me towards my front door.

“Not tonight, you are too drunk for me to feel comfortable taking what I want from you.” He says, a sentence that ignites every inch of my body. He wants me. He respects me. I nod, thank him for bringing me home and head inside. Little did I know, that meeting this tall green eyed man, would change the course of my life. Forever.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

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play-rough · 3 months

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Is there a particular season that your classification AU takes place in?

This was brought on by me thinking of the baby and Chuuya playing in the snow. Dazai's horrid attempts at building a snowman and Chuuya trying to not giggle at his baby being frustrated. (Can you imagine how much of a hassle it'd be for Chuuya to get Dazai all bundled up for the cold. GAHHHH HE'D LOOK SO CUTE IN A LIL PUFFER COAT 😭. Do you think Chuuya bought him a sea/crab themed hat, scarf, and gloves? I can just see him with one of those hats where you press the flaps and the ears move except his is a crab so the claws move.)

And then whenever Dazai gets too cold Chuuya immediately having them coming inside and drinking hot cocoa and then bundling together under a blanket while watching a movie.

This made me think of them doing other types of snow activities together now 😭. Sledding together and Dazai's so scared at first and practically sobbing, Chuuya's debating on whether he wants to continue or not, and when they get to the bottom of the hill you wouldn't believe the boy was close to tears a second ago with the way he's laughing and begging to go again.

(I live in an area where we get a lot of snow in the winter so hence the excitement.)

Snow makes me so excited because i grew up a map’s inch away from the equator and the first time i saw snow i was on a road trip with friends and i was like PULL THE FUCK OVER and i played in the snow at a rest stop 😭 it was great

Yokohama in my opinion is like animal crossing and it has all seasons 😭😭😭😭😭 yes to snow yes to snow. I don’t have official times when things are set but I was thinking fall-ish for part 5 because it’s raining a lot and just generally gloomy out. I want chuuya to do a bunch of things in all the seasons so I’m sure we will eventually get there 😭

YES to it being a hassle to get Dazai bundled up, he’d do okay first layer, but by the second layer he’d probably already start getting hot because you know chuuya keeps that house heated. Getting the baby’s socks on is almost impossible because he won’t stop kicking, and chuuya only gets them because Dazai is distracted tearing off his sweater. Chuuya has to shove that back on too, and dazai’s flushed and crying as chuuya puts the jacket, scarf, and hat on (i think chuuya would have the foresight to dress the baby in a baby top with attached mittens, because he knows Dazai would try to ditch those first thing), chuuya forgoes the shoes for now, and just carries Dazai outside to let him adjust to the temperature. Chuuya has to wiggle the baby’s shoes on outside, and Dazai starts to calm down once he realizes it’s super cold out and Chuuya isn’t trying to boil him like a crab 🤧

I love love love Dazai being too scared to do things like slides or sledding down hills 🫠🥹🩵 little things like that just kill me 😭🤧 chuuya would have to drag Dazai back inside to warm back up, the baby would still want to play even though he can’t stop shivering 😭 and Dazai’s immune system is awful, and it’s also flu season, so there will undoubtedly be times where the baby is sick, but it’s snowing and chuuya has to keep him inside even though he wants to go sledding again 🩵🩵🤧

#💌

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xo-yaaaaaas-xo · 2 days

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request where Benny Weir saves the reader from getting kidnapped drowning choking an earthquake snowstorm/blizzard flash flood/thunderstorm a fire and smoke inhalation

A/N: absolutely love this idea, it sounds really cute. just ugh :)) i think i’ll do the snowstorm idea because well you’ll see :) xx since i never stick with an idea without backtracking and editing it, please for the love of god tell me so i’m able to correct it because i do not like looking back at my writing because i end up deleting it haha x this is longer than i was expecting it to be but can you blame me? Benny is so cute ugh.

The Storm in my Heart Rages On.

cw: this is a friends to lovers, pretty fluffy, and it’s just really cutesy i guess.

As it was Canada and pretty much always snowy, and it became even worse over the December and early January months. It had been snowing for around 4-5 days straight, in sub zero temperatures and we were still expected to go into school..great. It wasn’t all bad though, it was fun to make snow angles and have snowball fights with my friends, them being Ethan, Erica, Sarah, Rory, and Benny.

It was a particularly colder morning than the others in Whitechapel, and as soon as my brain registered I was actually awake, I felt the cold air in my room wrap it’s icy arms around me and not let go until I was sat downstairs with 4 layers of clothes on, in front of the fire place with (hot drink of choice) cradled snuggly between my fingers and the heater on full blast, trying to thaw out my body.

After I had thrown my final layer on, I stepped out the door and instantly felt the snow fall on my face and freezing winds caress my body, even through the layers. After walking alone for a few minutes, teeth chattering from the cold and bobbing my head along with the music I was listening to, I heard a faint but familiar chorus of voices and laughter that I quickly pinpointed to be Ethan and Rory walking together.

I managed to just barely catch up to them when I saw Benny leave his house, I decided that it would be funny if I scared him. As Rory shouted him over to them, I was lucky enough to just miss his line of sight and creep up behind him. Rory sensed I was close and looked back to see me gesturing to be quiet, and surprisingly he complied, how sweet. Although the snow was lightly crunching under my feet and my teeth chattering quickly, I caught up and shocked him by jabbing my fingers into his sides gently but enough to scare him a bit. As it turns out, I scared him more than I was intending to and he fell to his knees with a small yelp falling from his pretty lips.

From this, I made us laugh and heard Ethan, Sarah, and Erica laugh faintly from our left at the encounter. However, my laughter turned into mock annoyance when I decided to help Benny up and he pulled me down with me, into the snow and almost on top of him if only he could have pulled me a bit more to th-.

Okay, if you couldn’t guess by now, I may have a little crush on benny but who wouldn’t? Am I right??

Anyhow, we managed to make the rest of the distance to school without falling over too much, and from having boring english, and geography lessons to then having a very uneventful science lesson and a semi decent history lesson, we were finally let out to go home for the weekend. In the courtyard, I was walking with Rory toward the others when a snowball hit my face. I turned in the direction that it came from and none other than Benny Weir was on the other end of the courtyard, looking guiltily at me.

I strolled over to Benny with an air of fake bitterness and hidden joy bubbling in my chest. As soon as I approached, he was frantically apologising but laughing at the same time, claiming he was aiming for Rory, but after a few moments he scratched the back of his neck, nervously looking anywhere but me, then looked at me after a few seconds and muttered “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” with a sincere smile on his face.

At this I couldn’t keep my fake serious facade and started laughing, which seemed to make him feel at least a bit better. A quiet “Wanna go over to them?” graced my lips and a slight gesture behind me and towards our group made Benny calm down a bit and nod in confirmation, and we began walking with our friends back home.

Since I live further away from school than most of my friends, I went to walk to my street when I saw it wasn’t physically possible, the snow had gotten to waist height and was getting higher by the moment, the snow was really picking up, making it hard to see let alone walk through it. I saw a message from my (parent/guardian) saying to stay at a friend’s house until the snow patrol people come to help us, but that may be a few hours or more. At this, I turned to the last person I was with, which just so happened to be Benny, and asked if it was okay, to which he enthusiastically agreed since his grandma was always happy to have friends over.

A few minutes later we walked into Benny’s street while he was casting a spell that made it possible to walk on his street and while I was distracted by a snow angel being levelled over, I hadn’t realise that some of the icicles that were on Benny’s porch had started to break away from the sheer force of the wind that had picked up over the last few minutes, and I had neglected to notice that it was coming right for me, aimed near my head, thankfully it seemed Benny had a bit more spatial awareness than I had and moved the icicle away from my direction and dragged me into his side and into the house to protect me from any other falling hazards.

As soon as I realised I was as flush to his side as I could get, I bloomed a bright red that could rival any cherry or strawberry. When we were safely inside, Benny held on a minute longer than necessary but it was nice, his face looked so kissable from that angle- to be held by him was comparable to finally meeting the one you were destined to spend your life with.

I soon shed a few of my layers that had gotten wet from the snow and Benny gave me one of his jumpers to keep me warm while the heating kicked in fully, and gave me a (hot drink of choice). As we soon settled into the couch, he turned to put a movie on that just so happened to be my favourite. I started to get sleepy from being nice and warm from being cold all day so I slumped a bit more into the couch and subconsciously leaned towards Benny and my head fell on his shoulder.

Other than freaking out, which he did internally because he didn’t want to disturb you because he finally got to hold you, he gently snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I slowly and carefully nuzzled my head into his neck while wrapping an arm over his stomach to get more comfortable and drift to sleep.

A few hours had passed, the TV was playing a random movie, the storm was still raging on outside, and I had started to wake up, recognising the smell of Benny but not being awake enough to realise that the reason why was because he was holding me until a few seconds later. When I realised this my heart rate sped up, pounding against my chest, my hands started to sweat when I realised he was holding me around my waist with his thumb idly rubbing against my side, sending a warm feeling to my heart. I had started to draw little shapes on his jumper that he was wearing when I looked up at him and saw he was awake this whole time.

My heart almost jumped out of my chest when we made eye contact, seeing him with a small, coy smile plastered across his face and his grip on me slightly tightened on me, all he said was “Morning” in his raspier voice since he’d had a nap and felt my face almost radiate with heat.

“Morning?” I inquired back, unsure of the time, and reached over to feel for my phone. It was about 5 minutes to eight o’clock at night and I had a missed message from my (parent/guardian) that said to stay at my friends house since the snow patrolling people were backed up at the moment and to come back when I could.

After I had showed Benny the time, I went to stand up, but he pulled me back down to him with a gentle but steady tug to my arm and I fell back onto him, sat across his lap. “Five more minutes, you’re too warm to leave yet.” That’s unusual, sure he’s a flirt but never like this, oh well. At this, I rolled my eyes at his childlike antics and agreed to stay there for a bit longer and when he finally allowed me to stand, we both realised how hungry we both were and went to look in his freezer.

Luckily, there was enough pizza and snacks to feed a whale so we threw pizzas in the oven and grabbed a few snacks and moved back to the couch. Around an hour had passed since the interaction earlier and I decided to ask about it.

“So Benny?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you didn’t want me to get up earlier? Don’t say it was because I was warm because I know that isn’t true, you were the one that was warm” I asked in a friendly but curious way.

“Well you were warm, and you felt nice against me. I didn’t want to let you go because” a small pause fell upon us “Well how do I say this?”

I listened intently, hung on every word he spoke, every breath he took, every movement he made, until he saw me flicking my eyes across his face and saw them linger mostly on his lips, that’s when he said “Screw it.” and kissed me…

I felt like I could have imploded with the amount of butterflies I felt at that moment but took a short breath and leaned in further when I felt him start to become apprehensive. He was slightly taken aback when I held the side of his face to keep him there when he went to pull away but he listened and held my face with both of his hands.

After a minute or two or five we finally pulled away for air and I was the first to say “I love you… so much Benny, you have no idea. I’ve loved you since we were in elementary school” and with this he looked at me with one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen from him as he said two simple words that meant more to me than anyone could’ve ever imagined “Me too.”

We continued the night by playing games, eating more snacks, watching a movie, holding, and kissing each other to ‘catch up on lost time we could’ve had together’ until we fell asleep again. We woke up the next morning to a confused but happy grandma Weir standing in front of us, all she said was “Took you long enough Benny” and walked away. We looked at each other and almost fell in love all over again.

#benny weir #benny weir x reader #not done this in so long i’m sorry if it’s bad #cute

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theoldaeroplane · 8 months

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Intercessor

Behold, a hyperfixation-fueled day-in-the-life of my new Apocalypse World character! His name is Fray and he definitely isn't 85% just BotW Link. This was written mostly for my GM and fellow party members, so the brief rundown is that we're in an eternal magic winter, surviving in pockets of tolerable cold, with steampunk/Victorian-esque tech.

4.3k, no content warnings. I put his character sheet under the cut at the bottom as a bonus :)

---

“Fray! Saint Fray!”

Hold on.

Saint?

Fray’s not sure when that started happening.

He’s heard hero and gallant and even champion—all of them kind of feel like too much—but saint is new. Sainthood seems really excessive.

He was not consulted on this. But then, he never is.

Fray stops in his tracks, peering over a heavily-obscured shoulder to see who’s calling. His new scarf, all wool and possum fur, feels like sitting in a sauna, but it’s terribly bulky, especially with his pack in the mix. It might be too big. He doesn’t cut an impressive figure in it. But then, he never does.

Behind him, squeezing between frozen-over remains of archaic vehicles in the narrow alleyway with all the grace of a puppy, comes—ah. Of course.

Andrei.

Fray turns, eyebrows cocked as Andrei halts his bulk bare inches in front of him. Fray is short, but Andrei’s ridiculous. Six and a half feet, top-heavy, all muscle he’s never done a thing to earn as far as Fray can tell. Deep pockets and a deeper voice. Sort of cute with his gold hair and dimples, but not Fray’s type. Still, he’s nice enough. If nothing else he’s bought his way into Fray’s good graces with beer after beer at the Manufacturing. “You’re so fast,” Andrei complains, leaning on his knees. “Gimme a second.”

So: Fray shoves his hands in his pockets and thinks through his agenda. He’s not in a rush. The tailor’s doesn’t close for hours yet. The yotes that have apparently found a way to worm their frozen bodies under the wardings and onto the Merchants’ land won’t come out until the shifts change. He’ll work dinner into the middle somewhere. He’s got time for whatever this is.

There’s another thing about Andrei that Fray likes. When Fray tugs off his top pair of mittens to free the thin-gloved fingers underneath and signs S-A-I-N-T?, he can see Andrei focus on his hands, lips jutting out in his concentration. Andrei is nowhere near fluent, probably will never be, but being able to sort-of read what feels like Fray’s first language goes a long way in endearing Andrei to him.

“Um,” Andrei says. “Are you not? That’s what they’re calling you.”

Fray squints at him. Signs: T-H-E-Y?

“The Children?”

It always takes Fray a moment to realize people usually say Children with a capital “C” around here. His face twists up in a grimace, and he shakes his head no emphatically. W-H-Y?

“Don’t know,” Andrei says, guileless as always. “I won’t say it no more, if you like.” At Fray’s resigned, bewildered shrug, he goes on, “Well, but, I’m glad I caught you!” With this he claps a huge hand on Fray’s shoulder, the blow barely cushioned by the thick layers of wool. Fray staggers instantly, unprepared knees almost buckling. Andrei yelps and helps him regain his feet. “Sorry! Sorry! Here, this is it, this is all, look, my sister got these and I thought to myself, you know who’d love that? Fray, that’s who! Lucky thing we crossed paths!”

The thing he shoves in Fray’s face smells like heaven. He starts salivating like a damn dog. It locks Fray in place momentarily, trying to piece together where he knows it from. What it reminds him of. It’s there somewhere, on the edge of things, but—

“It’s doughnuts,” Andrei tells him, conspiratorial. “Like at the market that time. You know?”

Fray remembers. A wagon on the merchant circuit pulled by four aurochs. The overpowering smell of fried dough drawing him nearly straight from his house. Standing in line for thirty minutes when Andrei pulled him in. Finally being handed the paper bag, translucent with oil and steaming hot, and looking into it to see not just the miniature doughnuts, but for the first time he can remember in—a long time—sugar.

It had been physically painful for him to keep himself from cramming the whole thing into his mouth. Instead he forced himself to savor it. That had almost been worse, it turned out, because now his memory of it was such that he does not think anything will ever near its equal.

Andrei had said they were pretty good doughnuts.

Fray stares at the oil-soaked paper that Andrei holds level with his eyes, and before he can quite stop himself he looks from bag to man with naked want on his face. He points at himself with a disbelief that is exaggerated both to be clear enough for Andrei to pick up on, and as a show of his genuine surprise and delight. He probably does look like a dog, waiting for a treat. That’s fine. Fray knows what he is about.

Andrei, generous enough to overlook how Fray is practically vibrating, pushes the bag into his hands with a lopsided grin. “You bet! I remembered how much you liked them—oh, no, no,” he cuts himself off when he sees Fray pull out his wallet. “It’s a gift!”

Fray looks at the bag again, to Andrei again, to the bag once more. He gets it settled in his off-hand so he can use the other. W-H-Y?

“Well, because we’re friends, twerp,” Andrei says with the kind of smile that Fray can only read as knew you’d say that. Because this has happened before.

Because Fray kind of doesn’t … do friends.

Not on purpose. He’d rather if he did have friends. It just seems like it never quite sticks. It’s not unusual for him to be hailed in the street by someone grateful for some favor or other he’s gone and done for them months ago, something he’s already forgotten. But those aren’t friends. Or at least, he’s pretty sure they aren’t. Lots of people ask him for favors after what happened.

There just seems to be something about him that keeps people from wanting to stay too long.

Except Andrei, apparently.

Fray pulls the bag closer to his chest and lets the fried smell warm him inside and out. He works his face into something he hopes looks appropriately sheepish. “Thanks,” he signs, because he’s pretty sure Andrei knows that one. (He does, by the way he beams.) Fray adds, afterwards, F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E.

“Hell, Fray, you’re my favorite too,” Andrei says with amusement. Before Fray can correct him—tell him he meant the doughnuts—Andrei straightens and sticks his hands into his armpits against the cold. “Hoo! Bad as witch piss out here. I’ve got to be getting. See you at Manufacturing tomorrow night? I hear there’s going to new music!”

Fray nods, giving up on the favorite comment. Sure, Andrei might as well be his favorite person. He likes him well enough. It’s not like there’s anyone else, not really. The thought stings a little more than it used to.

---

He doesn’t get swarmed just trying to cross the dome anymore, at least. That had been a problem last year. Far Haven has a scant few hundred souls to its name, and Fray is sure every single one of them has talked to him at one point or another by now. It drove him into hiding for a while, nerves shot with so much attention. The flocks of opinionated strangers only died off with time, as memories and emotions faded and what he’d done drifted out of the city’s mind.

Saving the lives of every one of those few hundred souls takes some time to drift.

These days he’ll only get a few hangers-ons, most of them children who want to see the sword. The children do not get to see the sword. Fray tries to prevent anyone from seeing the sword in general. This has never deterred them, and he cannot bring himself to frighten off kids. It’s not uncommon to see Fray making his steadfast way through snow and slush with three or four ragamuffins tailing him, telling each other stories of the thing their parents say he did. Fray never confirms (or denies) anything.

That’s happening now, as a matter of fact.

“I heard you’s killed the thieves dead!” says a gap-toothed girl at least ten years younger than him, but nearly as tall. She reminds him of someone, he thinks as he eats the doughnuts. He wonders who. “I heard there was forty of ’em!”

“Nuh-uh! It was three! But they were big and scary and frostbitted!” This from a blond-haired boy with huge glasses and a mouth entombed by a scarf.

“You jokers gotta get your stories straight,” says that absolute goblin of a red-head girl with the false arm. Her voice is like a vulture croaking. “Short stuff, hey! Mr. Hero! You were there, weren’tcha? Cough up the details!”

She’s all but dog-piled by the other two. “Mr. Fray can’t talk!” protests the boy. “Because he got hit in the throat by the frostbitted!”

“Horseshit, I see him talk. Came saw my dad about maps and shit last week, didn’t he? He talks. Not a lot, maybe. You guys think he’s too stupid to say much or just stuck-up?”

“Definitely stupid,” says Fray in the painful scrape of his rusted-over voice, loud enough to catch all three of them off guard. There’s a shocked silence until he looks back at them and winks, and then giggles send up after him like a train of bubbles.

They peel off when he’s about a block from the tailor’s. Just as well. Fray pauses in the dark overhang of the tailor’s doorstep to pull his scarf down and palm his throat. The heat from his hand does little against the stain of discolored skin, blanched pale and blue against his dusky skin. It bleeds down his neck like a port-wine stain, a slashed jugular bleeding ice.

Fray thinks he is maybe supposed to be dead, with the way that ice-white blemish hugs his neck. The skin is cold and hard, and it glitters at him whenever he looks at it in the mirror, like crusted snow.

Well. Nothing to be done. Fray fixes his scarf and pushes his way into the relative heat of the tailor’s.

Warm air licks at his face. He sighs in relief, stopping for a moment to relish it as it caresses his ears and cheeks. The shuffle of fabric and leather draws him out of his reverie for but a moment, long enough to cast a glance toward where Elle’s apprentice sticks her head out from the back. “Oh! Mr. Fray! Got more?”

Fray gives her an apologetic nod, unshouldering his pack to pull it open. From within he produces no less than five shirts, all of them damaged in exactly the same place and exactly the same way. Each one is black—he learned that lesson a long time ago, not to wear anything but black against his skin—and each one has perfectly round holes burned into the same spot on the forearms. They’re as big as eggs, two on each arm. One of the shirts has similar burned holes in a long row down the spine, all identical and evenly spaced. Elle’s apprentice looks the garments over and tuts. “There won’t be much of these left to repair at this rate, you know,” she scolds. “One day I’m going to refuse you until you at least tell me how you keep getting them.”

Fray nods and has the decency to look embarrassed.

She scoots him out posthaste, telling him to return in two days. He should really learn how to repair his own clothes. It’d be a way to pass the time if nothing else. And to avoid awkward questions.

That’s all Fray has in front of him for the rest of the day: passing the time. He meanders. He picks up and loses more trails of children, none of whom get to see the sword. He finds lunch in the form of beaver steak and turnips at that place that has a jester on its sign. He pings back and forth slowly between shop after shop, recognized at each one, buying nothing.

Mostly he thinks, stopping at a mirror in one store to surreptitiously peek beneath his scarf again: this frost thing would have looked cooler if it had gone over my heart.

Because Fray’s kind of … done everything around here. A couple times. Often with encouragement and enabling from strangers who see his bright eyes and dull hair and go oh! Fray! Come in! He’s done everything, including worry about the cold-dead magic stuck to his throat, but nothing’s changed. Now he just thinks it’s ironic he got a neck wound only after his voice skedaddled.

If the frost-rot weapon had connected with his heart instead of his neck, Fray muses, he would probably be dead. That seems like a more vulnerable part of him. Which—that might have been interesting, to see what happened if he died. But that would come at the cost of him probably not being alive anymore.

Which itself probably hinges on whether or not he counts as alive.

He gets a snack as he makes for the Merchants’ territory. The doughnuts are gone. The sausages he buys aren’t nearly as good as he wants them to be. He’s nearly out of the market when he’s waylaid by a tall, dark woman with wide eyes, the most visible thing in her bundled-up face. “Aren’t you the one who saved the city?” she says, breathless. “From that break-in?”

This is one of those questions where the answer makes him feel like a jackass, no matter how factual it is. But he nods anyway, meekly. The vibes on this woman aren’t great. He’s not sure how much he wants to admit to her.

Her wide eyes go wider, until Fray thinks they might eclipse the rest of her face. “Saint,” she breathes, all awe and devotion. Fray almost cringes. “The Children are with you.”

He doesn’t know how to react until he remembers to capitalize that “C”. Oh. One of them. One of those cuckoos that worships the arcane frost that sits outside their little dome waiting to kill anyone it can. Fray gives her a weak smile and hopes it’s not very encouraging. “I would walk with you, Saint,” the woman says, catching up his left hand as she slips to his side. “Allow me to feel your presence.”

Oh, son of a bitch.

There are people you do not want to piss off, and those people are the Children of the Frost. They’re a religion? Cult? Club? Something. They’re fans of the cold nightmare outside this pocket of survivability. Really into Frostbitten, he thinks. Most of them seem a little moonblinked. Unfortunately for him and everyone else, they’ve wormed their way into the council seats. They run half of Far Haven.

She starts walking before Fray can pull back, and as she is nearly as tall as Andrei, she does a marvelous job of pulling Fray along like one of those toy ducks on wheels. She’s power walking, even. They’re still headed where he needs to go, to the outer bounds of the dome, but there are fewer and fewer people here as witnesses. Fray does not love that. Fray’s of the belief that the Children need babysitters.

There’s just one person left in sight when Fray finally locks his knees and digs his heels in. He pulls his hand away and the woman rounds on him with alarming speed. “Something the matter?” she asks sweetly, looming.

Fray puts his hands up and shakes his head, then throws a thumb over his shoulder. I need to go that way. He could get to the Merchants’ from here, yes, but he could get there from a couple streets over, too, and those streets have lights. And people. It’s not that he feels in danger—Fray very rarely feels like he’s in danger from anything—but something about this is making his skin crawl.

The woman watches him with eyes that seem much too large for her skull. “Oh, of course,” she says, as if in a daze. “But, brother in the snow, would you grant me one favor?”

Well. He’s the favor guy. It would probably not go over well if he turned down what is evidently such a big fan. He makes a point of not actually nodding, but he does pause and wait to hear her request.

The woman says, “May I see it?” Her voice trembles. “Your kiss?”

Fray mouths the words what the fuck? before he can stop himself.

“Your mark?” the woman tries again, grabbing the plush fabric of his coat when he tries to back away. “The gift the frost left you. Grant me this, let me gaze upon it, Saint Fray of the Frost.”

Before he can think better of it Fray pulls her hands off with a firm grasp, and squares his shoulders before he shakes his head. To emphasize his point he crosses his arms in front of him, the universal gesture for no. No on several levels. No on the levels of stop-calling-me-that and who-the-fuck-are-you-anyway. (And perhaps most importantly, no-one-gets-to-see-that.)

“I understand,” the woman says after a long pause. She sounds a million miles away. Her hand lifts again, drawn toward his scarf as if it was magnetized. “At least then allow me to fix your wardrobe.” Her fingertips brush the very edge of the scarf. The hair on the back of Fray’s neck prickles and shivers, and that’s his signal to leave.

By rights he should have been out of there before she could manage anything. He would have been, except his foot slips on the iced-over cobbles when he tries to retreat. The woman’s fingers sink into his scarf and it tears away in her hand as he pratfalls hard. The cold air strikes like a serpent at his exposed throat, and he swears he actually sees the glitter under his own chin as the uncloaked moon falls upon him.

The woman is agape. She falls to her knees in fervent prayer. Fray wonders if all the Children are actually fucking insane, or if he lucked out. For now he snatches back his scarf and sprints back up the road. Not as fast as he can go, nowhere near, but more than enough to put a few blocks between himself and the Child. He weaves through a few other snow-crushed buildings and through the edge of the red-light district just to be sure he’s not followed.

God. That probably won’t lead to anything good. But there’s nothing to be done about it now.

Fray shakes himself and sighs and politely waves off the folk pulling double shifts on the world’s oldest profession. He tugs the scarf tighter against his neck. There’s nothing for him here, either, not until he figures this frostrot thing out.

---

It’s dark, the borders of the pasture empty of lights or people. The yotes shine dull white, glossed with blue icicles melting off their fur outside the embrace of the permafrost. They snarl and yap at him with eyes as pale and empty as the moon. He is between them and the Merchants’ wool flock. If these creatures get loose among the merinos, not only will Fray not get paid, but will probably not go a week before someone tries to assassinate him. The goodwill he’s won does not, he suspect, apply to the pragmatic Merchants.

And then he’d have to kill the assassin, and it would just be messy and he doesn’t want to piss off the Merchants.

But he’s not worried about that.

They’re not enormous, the yotes, but their skinny bodies are lithe and fast and hard to predict. There’s six of them. They have claws and superior weight. They have greater numbers. They have those ice-bound teeth that shatter into frostrot the moment they hit blood.

Fray has the sword.

The yotes mouth at each other, excited and riled. Only two of them seem to stop long enough to notice that Fray has set his arms before him as if he held a shield and a blade. For a moment he looks idiotic. In the next, he looks inhuman.

The shield ripples out of nothing across his arm, held there only with the humming of the gold-tinted implants set into his flesh. The air fills with the smell of singed cotton, the superheated elements too much for the fabric to resist. In his opposite hand the implant on his wrist makes a dull thrum, and suddenly the pretend sword in his fingers is not pretend at all. It is, instead (as Fray thought the first time he saw it), a fucking knight’s broadsword. The blade is made of light, and it sits easy in his practiced hand. Both armaments glow and roil like molten gold, not adorned with any boss but a constantly shifting pattern of faint hexagons. He knows from experience it’s not just them: his eyes are lit up, too, glowing gold, those hexagons mirrored by his pupils. Fray checks his grip on the sword, raises the shield, and charges.

There would be no point in detailing the fight. It lasts around seventeen seconds.

The yotes on the ground, now mostly divested from their heads or guts, lay still. Fray approaches one, ever on guard, and nudges its crazed face with the flat of the blade. It’s already dissolving into that sludgy, slushy substance so many frost-touched creatures return to if they perish outside their domain. It’s gross. He wipes the blade off on the clean snow to its side, despite not needing too, and then the blade dissolves from sight. The shield follows, and not long after the dull hum of the implants dies down and goes back to matching his heartbeat. (He hopes it’s a heart he’s got in there.)

Well. That’s his job finished, then. Nothing more to be done here.

Fray stands there for a long time, watching the corrupted bodies melt into the snow.

---

It’s not that the drop in his mood is unexpected so much as Fray doesn’t know how to mitigate it. Right now, curled on the nest of blankets he calls a bed, he feels like he’s in free-fall and he does not know why. It’s always worse if it’s a culling job like this one. He’s developed a sick kind of sympathy for the creatures he cuts down. They aren’t normal animals. Most of them were once, a pack of wolves, a flock of ravens, things the frost struck down before reshaping into its own kind of native inhabitant. They don’t eat. They don’t even kill, some of them. They just carry the frost with them, trying to bring it into the places the Chasm has not yet fully swallowed. There’s no understanding in their white marble eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing.

Fray tries to remember how he got here, to Far Haven. He’d been journeying, he thinks. He’d just done something he was grimly, blackly satisfied with. He could feel the stain of its gratification on his soul. He has no idea what it was, but he thinks he knew once, and he knows it was—

… he knows it was worth what he had to sacrifice. It has to have been.

Only, he wishes he knew which part of him had been used to pay for it. His voice? His memory? The flesh that had been excised from his arms and the golden implants set in their place? All of it, or a combination?

Does it matter?

No, is the answer he arrives on again, trying to sink further into the warmth of his bed. It doesn’t. He’s here now, he’s helping people, he’s doing what it feels like he’s supposed to be doing. That should be enough.

In his dream, Fray is again in the underground chamber that keeps the entire city warm enough to survive. The implants’ roar as they form the golden sword shakes him down to his teeth. The thieves are very annoyed that he’s here. In front of him they argue about who betrayed their plan to extract the generator’s heart and let Far Haven freeze to death, a few hundred miserable lives less valuable than their payout will be. Fray does nothing but keep an eye on the young woman that’s accompanied them, the one who looks fraught and sick with guilt. She barely looks past girlhood.

They fight. It gives him more trouble than it feels like it should. After one of the men shoves a strange gauntlet against his throat and squeezes, after the glittering death of frostrot embeds itself in his neck—after Fray cuts him down and rushes to recover the ancient battery and shove it back into the squealing generator—he remembers the girl.

He finds her clinging to the edge of the magic runoff and its mile-long drop into a red-tinted black, her arms bloody and slipping against the steep concrete. I’m sorry, she wails as he runs to her, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do this, please help me, please, please. I won’t tell anyone what you are.

He stops in the middle of reaching for her hand, startled stiff by her last words. Just for a moment. Just long enough that when her weakening arms seize and fail her, his dive to grab her is just that little bit too late.

She falls, and Fray watches in horror. In his dream, he can see her panicked face right until the very end. When she hits the ground impact shocks him awake, and he staggers off to the washroom to vomit up greasy doughnut batter and undigested sausages. In the mirror, the inert embrace of the arcane frost—the kiss of death—glitters in the candlelight, clutching his throat like a lover. The implants start to hum as his heart speeds up.

Fray wishes he knew her name. He wishes she could have told him what he is.

But there’s nothing to be done about that now.

---

Thank you for reading!!! as promised, Fray's character sheet. We're playing a hack of AW called Burned Over, and I'm playing a class called The Weaponized, which is what led to me calling Fray "RoboCop Link" until I settled on his name.

#saint fray #corgiwrites!#apocalypse world #northern echoes #writing

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 1 year

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Some cute fluff with Sameena taking a stroll looking at Christmas lights ;)

Regardless of how many times she does it, Deena still expects to be struck by lightning the second she crosses the county line and enters into Sunnyvale. Like some great cosmic force is going to recognize that she doesn’t belong there.

The look she gets from Sam’s mom every time she finds herself face to face with the woman doesn’t really help matters either. If ever there was anyone determined to throw Deena back over into Shadyside, it would be this woman.

“Hey. Hi.” Deena resists the urge to pull her gloved hands out of her jacket pockets to wave at the woman, rocking back on her heels instead. Ms. Fraser’s stony expression does not change. “Merry…almost Christmas.”

Still nothing except the determination to vaporize Deena on the spot and sweep her ashes back over into Shadyside. Deena clears her throat and presses her lips together and peers past Ms. Fraser’s shoulder in hopes of seeing Sam on her way to rescue her.

Thankfully it is indeed the time for Christmas miracles, because there is Sam, wrapping her scarf around her neck and ducking past her mother and onto the front stoop. “We’ll be back later,” she calls over her shoulder in the vague direction of where Ms. Fraser still stands trying to will the icicles to fall and leave her with plausible deniability of the ensuing bloodshed. To Deena, Sam says, “Come on” and takes her hand, tugging her forward like Deena might possibly need instructing on getting the hell out of here.

“She hates me,” Deena remarks as they make it to the top of the driveway without further interactions with Ms. Fraser aside from the slamming of the front door.

“She hates me too,” Sam says, as though the words are meant to reassure Deena in some way, though between the way Sam is holding tightly to her hand and the chipper tone of her voice, it’s almost as though she hasn’t said them at all. “I wanted to meet you outside but I couldn’t find my scarf.”

“It’s okay,” Deena assures her, giving her hand a squeeze. “It wasn’t that bad. I just didn’t have enough time to really charm her with my stellar personality.”

Sam laughs like such a thing is a hopeless case -which is probably is given the fact that Deena isn’t sure she even has a stellar personality- but the way she moves a little closer to Deena, her shoulder pressing against Deena’s, definitely softens any teasing the laughter might’ve had. The temperature has been inching its way toward below freezing in the days before Christmas and Deena can barely feel the presence of Sam’s body beneath the layers of her jacket and Sam’s but she can still pretend, can still imagine the warmth and closeness.

“I hope this is worth it,” Deena says, like there might be something Sam has to do to make their time together worth it aside from just being Sam. “I think my toes are already frozen and I can’t feel my nose.”

“It’s worth it,” Sam assures her as they head down the sidewalk in the direction of whatever activity Sam has planned for the both of them. Normally, Sunnyvale and its extracurriculars take a backseat to spending time in Shadyside away from Sam’s mother and her judgmental silences but Deena hadn’t even considered saying no when Sam had suggested they take part in a little Christmas cheer Sunnyvale style. So now here she is, trudging down the snowy sidewalk surrounded by houses that look like they could very easily swallow the home Deena has grown up in.

Not to say that it isn’t pleasant to look at, what with everyone’s wreaths and holly and very tasteful white Christmas lights edging the eaves and corners of the stately homes. Even over the past few months of what Sunnyvalers would consider to be a slump in prosperity, it seems like the Christmas spirit is still alive in well. At least as far as trying to one-up the neighbors is concerned.

“I just heard about this from someone at school,” Sam continues as they round the end of a block and toward another one. “Her family participates every year, I guess. The whole street goes all out on Christmas lights displays and they serve hot chocolate and it’s a whole thing.”

Deena lifts her eyebrows. “Leave it to Sunnyvale to make Christmas lights something else they can show off.”

Sam laughs, shrugging. “I mean…probably. But I thought it might be nice to look at them together. And if not then,” another shrug, “we can just drive around in your car or something.”

“No, you’re right,” Deena agrees, nodding. “It’s definitely a good idea. Very…Christmas spirit of you.”

“Well, it is almost Christmas,” Sam points out. “So I guess that’s kind of the point.”

The point, as far as Deena is concerned, is really just this: the sound of her boots crunching on the snow as she holds Sam’s hand in hers and tries to figure out if it’s normal for someone to look as cute as Sam does with her nose and cheeks pink from cold. But she’s not going to point that out or anything.

It’s easy to determine once they’ve made it to the street that is hosting the Christmas light spectacular that is apparently spectacular enough to get teenage girls to brag about it at school. Not only is the place lit up with the mega-watt volume of a thousand suns, but there’s also three different Christmas carols blasting out from concealed boomboxes at high volume and people milling about in all directions. Parents are forcing their children to pose for photos in front of light displays and there’s someone dressed in a Santa Claus outfit dishing out what Deena assumes is hot chocolate and someone else has their dog dressed up like Max from How the Grinch Stole Christmas and…well…

“It’s like Christmas threw up right here on this spot.” Deena blinks, glancing toward Sam, who seems equally taken aback by the displays.

“Yeah. I don’t know why I was thinking it would be more…understated.”

Deena scoffs. “Yeah, me neither. I mean it is Sunnyvale. I don’t think they know how to do understated.”

Sam grimaces. “True. We can always-”

“Nope, we’re already here,” Deena says and despite the…extravagance, it’s hard not to feel the Christmas spirit in a place like this. “Let’s see the lights.”

“I think you could see them from space,” Sam points out.

Deena smirks. “I mean…true.”

At least the walk does come with hot chocolate, which is definitely a plus in Deena’s mind, even if it means that she officially has to let go of Sam’s hand in order to take the cup instead. She imagines the warmth of the drink seeping in from the cup and past her gloves, warming the skin beneath, even though Deena can barely feel a thing with all these layers but at least the steam is warming her cheeks and its delightfully sweet as it burns its way down.

The Sunnyvale definition of a street seems to be far different from the one they would use in Shadyside, because it seems like this light display goes on forever, like everyone in the entire county has decided to participate. One house even has a light show synched up to the music blasting through the speakers planted around the house and even though most people seem awe-struck by the explosion of colors and the Chipmunks screeching out about how they want a hula-hoop, Sam and Deena move on pretty quickly, untangling themselves from the crowd and continuing on down the sidewalk.

Thankfully the further they go from the start of the neighborhood, the more modest the displays become and the quieter it gets, too, until everything is bathed in a sort of soft, warm glow of the white lights hung in bushes and twined around trees and there are only a few older couples around, talking in hushed tones as they study the lights.

“I’m kinda surprised no one sprung for, like, a whole team of reindeer or something,” Deena remarks. “Like they could’ve just had them hanging out in the front yard, really impress the neighbors.”

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” Sam says, elbowing Deena in a gesture that she doubts either of them can even feel given the amount of layers they have between them. “You’ll just give them ideas.”

Deena makes a face, finishing her hot chocolate. “Yeah. Can’t have that.”

“This is kinda nice though,” Sam says, gesturing toward the ring of houses in front of them in the cul-de-sac that officially seems to signal the end of the neighborhood. The houses are all decorated in sparkling white lights, even the perfectly trimmed hedges and the trunks of the bare branched trees. It’s exactly the type of thing Deena imagines when she thinks about the quiet of a Christmas Eve night, the promise of something great to come the following morning. Even being years past anticipating a visit from Santa hasn’t completely banished that idea from her mind or the breathless hope of what morning will bring.

“Yeah.” Deena nods, glancing toward Sam, who is still studying the houses. The lights seem to sparkle in her eyes, the faint dusting of snow that has accompanied their journey collecting in the strands of hair that have fallen loose from her hat and in her eyelashes. “It is.”

When Sam turns to look at her instead, Deena leans closer, taking advantage of the fact that they’re alone to kiss her. Sam makes a soft noise of surprise, though that doesn’t stop her from reaching up to slip her hand around the nape of Deena’s neck, holding onto her. Behind her closed eyes, Deena can see the memory of the dozens of lights dancing against her eyelids, the warm glow of them working its way down to the tips of her toes. But that could also just be from kissing Sam, the fireworks that usually accompanies the brush of her lips turning into bursts of Christmas lights instead and Deena smiles, putting a hand on Sam’s hip and pulling her closer.

#sameena #winter prompts #sam/deena #me trying to think past the stuffy sickness in my brain: yeah this makes sense right?#sam fraser #deena johnson

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folkloreguk · 3 years

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💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Text

A/N - based off of this sinful photograph

Suggested listening - Wildside by Normani and Kiss It Better by Rihanna

Wildside

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (fem!littlemix!reader)

Fandom - F1

Summary - You've been on tour for a while, and you miss your loverboy. But when he surprises you on tour, its bound to get spicy.

Warnings - smut (not well written)

The snap of hips. The soft groans and moans. The sound of pants. The sound of Rihanna's 'Kiss It Better' blaring through the walls. The bed knocking against the wall as Lewis's hands squeezed your hips, the intensity of the thrust pushing the bed against the wall. The high pitched moan that left your mouth as you reached your high, eyes closing as stars exploded behind your eyelids, as your boyfriend came right after you, your walls clenching as he came. Even after reaching your high, you didn't want to open your eyes, far too consumed in the earth shattering pleasure that was coursing through your veins, until a soft hand reached to pull your chin up, soft brown eyes looking into your own, clouded with lust and euphoria.

Pulling your mouth into his in a heated kiss, Lewis moved his hand to rest on your bare stomach, squeezing your tummy softly as he deepened the kiss. Pulling away he let his head droop onto your bare chest. "That was.." he began, far too blissed out to think of an adjective. "Godly" you said, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to come to terms with the intensity of your orgasm. Laughing he leaned back up to kiss your nose, before standing up and walking to the bathroom. You heard the tap running, and the sound of the dustbin opening and closing. You closed your eyes again, the aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Opening them again slowly, you saw Lewis walk towards you, towel in hand, and a lazy smile on his face. He gently cleaned your thighs, finishing with kisses on both of them. He reached up and wiped your torso, which was gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, before running the towel over your nose, cheeks, eyes and mouth. He dropped the towel in the clothes hamper near the bathroom door, pulling on his boxer shorts and and pulling out one of his t shirts from the cupboard. "What about the clothes on the floor" you piped up, finally beginning to wake up from your post pleasure state. "When did it get so messy?" He said, spotting 5 different clothing items in 5 different corners of the room. "When you decided to run your hand up my dress in a restraunt" you replied, throwing him a fake glare.

"You liked it" was his cocky reply, smirk spreading over his face as you flushed and ran a hand through your hair. "I did not" you lied, watching as he raised his eyebrows. "Oh really ? Thats not what you were saying 5 minutes ago- oh wait, you weren't saying anything at all. You were too busy moaning my name to say anything else-" "OKAY fine I loved it. Now shut up and bring your fine ass back for cuddles"

*-*-*

That was a month ago. Now you've been away for nearly one and half months, away with the girls on the LM5 tour. You loved touring, it was the best part of being a singer, getting to see the music you girls made together come to life on a stage in front of thousands and thousands of screaming fans. It was a thrill like no other. The only problem was that you were away from home. Distance was never an issue for the two of you, after all, he was a Formula 1 driver. It was very rare that he was home, except during the breaks and the gaps till race weekend, but ever since you two had started dating, he tried to be with you whenever you could. Sometimes, your shows would be in places where the races were too, and then he'd definitely turn up. But it was a difficult thing to do all the time, and some nights on tour were spent pulling all nighters as you talked to each other on the phone, till one of you eventually fell asleep.

But you knew when you started dating him, this wouldn't exactly be a regular relationship. The two of you were doing your dream jobs, and they were both extraordinary. And you were willing to put in the work you had to put in to make the relationship work, and you did. Yet here you were in Madrid, feeling heartbroken and desperately wanting your boyfriend by your side. It had been a rough couple of weeks, you were jet lagged and tired, and although this was the second leg of the tour, and you had had a break, it was tiring. It was hard going to bed every night alone, when all you wanted was to cuddle your boyfriend.

Little did you know, Lewis was feeling the same. In fact he had missed you so much, he had told Angela and his publicist to cancel all events for a week, while he flew out to Madrid to see you. He had missed you, he had missed you more than he could put into words. But he also wanted to surprise you. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled down to Leigh Anne's contact, and sent her a text.

Lewis, Leigh Anne

Hey. Is Y/N asleep ?

Hey! No, she's in an outfit fitting.

Okay that's good. I need your help with something.

Sure how can I help ?

I want to surprise her by coming to see you guys in Madrid.

Oh thats wonderful ! She's been a little down in the dumps. I think she misses you.

I miss her too.

Let me know when, and I'll send a car to pick you up.

I'll be there on Saturday. Landing at 3:15 and I should be at the hotel by 4:30. Then I can get ready and surprise her at the show.

Okay done. I'll send the car around 5:30,so you can rest for a bit. You should be here by 6. The show's at 6:15.

Thank you! Can't wait : )

I'm so happy youre coming to see her ! I'll let the girls know.

*-*-*

As soon as he had finished texting, Lewis decided to start packing, the prospect of seeing you again sending a buzz of happiness running along his veins. God, he had missed you a lot. He turned to Roscoe, the dog sitting by his feet, looking up at his dad with his head cocked to one side. "I'm going to go see Mumma, Roscoe" he explained, smiling as the doggo barked in response. He wouldn't be able to take him to Madrid, he'd have to leave him with a dog sitter, but he couldn't feel too bad about it, since he had had Roscoe with him even when you were gone. And besides, Roscoe enjoyed the dog creche. He couldn't wait for Saturday.

Later in the evening, he sat down with a glass of wine, while the ringtone of your FaceTime rang through the empty house. After a few more seconds of ringing, the call was picked up, your tired face coming into view. "Hi darling" he said, noticing the tiredness in your eyes, and how much you were struggling to keep them open. "Hi bubs. Did you finish eating?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "No, I've ordered soup" (did anyone get the reference ;) "Oh okay" was the reply. "What about you? What time is it?" "Its 9:20 AM" you replied, gently rubbing your eyes again, forcing yourself to stay awake.

"9:20? Thats pretty late baby. Why are you still sleepy?" "We were recording till 4 AM, so Im functioning on like 5 hours sleep right now" "Oh damn. Go back to sleep then baby" "Can't, rehearsal" was you reply, making him furrow his eyebrows. "Okay I guess. But don't tire yourself out" "I won't" "I love you" he said, smiling at you. "I love you"

*-*-*-*

The Madrid show was always a fun one. The fans were loud and you loved it. They were one of the best crowds you girls ever played for, and the show had its own adrenaline and excitement. But it was difficult to give a 100% when you were tired, but you really tried, you did. During Power, you hit highnotes you didnt think you could, during Woman Like Me you danced like there was no tomorrow. During Wasabi, you brought your sass level up to a 1000. It was during Bounce Back that you caught sight of a very familiar face in the audience. Unable to actually grasp if you had actually seen Lewis, you turned to Jade, who was on your side, and looked back at the crowd and back to her, asking for confirmation.

The smirk she gave you was answer enough. After that, focusing on giving an excellent performance increased tenfold. Every swirl of your hips, every flip of your hair, every wink you threw at the audience, it was all five times sexier. In the crowd, your boyfriend was well aware of what you were doing, and it was fair to say that you were succeeding at it. He could feel an uncomfortable sensation around his pants region, as his cock twitched uncomfortably in his pants. He couldn't wait till the show was over, and you two could have a show of your own.

*-*-*

"That was amazing darling!" Lewis said, spotting the 5 of you in your dressing room. "Oh look its Mr. Loverboy!" Perrie said, cackling as you rolled your eyes at her, before running up to your lover and jumping into his arms. "Hiya Bub! I missed you!" "I missed you too love. That's why I surprised you. I couldn't stand another day without you at home" he said, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you stable as you jumped into his arms. A chorus of "awws" echoed throughout the room, as the girls watched your cute little interaction. What wasn't cute however was the comment Lewis made in your ear, hiding his face in your ear so that the girls couldn't see. "I can't wait to get back to the hotel. I saw the performance you were putting on for me baby. You have no idea how hard I got, how uncomfortable I was standing in front of so many people when all I really wanted to do was fuck you"

You could feel your mouth become dry, and your heartbeat quicken, and you could feel the area between your thighs become wet. You tightened your grip around him, letting your crotch rub against his very softly. "I think it's time to go" you mumbled against his ear. "Okay girls, as lovely as it was to see you, I think it's time we go back to the hotel. I'm pretty worn out from travelling as well" "Yeah I'm pretty tired too" you replied, faking a large yawn. "Alright then, we'll see you guys tomorrow!" Leigh Anne said, leaning forward to give you a hug. After you finished hugging all the girls, the two of you made your way to the car, eagerly waiting to get back home.

The car ride home was tense. The tension was apparent in the air, reverberating through the air, choking you in a way you revelled in. The air was thick with tension, and it was suffocating you in the best way possible. It was almost too much to take. When the hotel came into sight, you practically leapt out of the car, and rushed to the door, an equally ruffled Lewis beside you. But he was not going to give in to you so easily. He enjoyed seeing you flustered. And he was not a person that gave someone what they wanted when they asked for it,no. He was going to have you desperate for it. Smirking to himself, he made his way to the reception, grabbing you by the waist as he went.

Throwing him a confused look you followed, slightly frustrated. "Hello sir, how can I help you?" the man at the reception asked, eyes going slightly wide as he recognized the two of you. "Hi! I just wanted to ask, till what time is your pool and spa open?" He asked, sliding his hand down to the back of your dress. "The pool closes at 10 pm sir, and the spa at 9 pm. We open the pool at 7 am and the spa at 11pm"he replied, struggling to maintain his professionalism as he spoke to one of the best drivers in Formula 1. "Alright thank you. And what time does breakfast start?" Lewis asked, hand pressing down on your ass, ever so discreetly. "Breakfast is from 6-10 am sir" "Thank you so much"

Next to him, you were fuming. Of course he was going to ask questions to which he already knew the answers to. A painful throb between your legs made you let out a small whimper, and the man at the reception looked at you with concern in his eyes. "Ma'am are you alright?" He asked, eyeing your stiff posture and tense state. "Yes, just tired, thank you" you replied, a little stiffly, but it was hard to concentrate when Lewis's promise of fucking you senseless kept replaying in your mind. "Alright then, good night" Lewis said, biting back a smirk at your flustered state. He knew getting you all riled up would lead to some seriously earth shattering sex, and he couldn't wait. But first, he definitely wanted to tease you, to push you over the edge, just a little more.

Your room was on the 16th floor, and as the two of you made your way into the elevator, he eyed you up and down, eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts. The minute the door shut, he pushed you against the wall, capturing your lips in a steamy kiss you'd be remembering the next day. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing hard, eliciting a moan from your lips. The moment your lips parted, he was pushing his tongue into yours, his other hand coming up to pull on your hair roughly, relishing in the gasp that left your lips. As suddenly as he started, he stopped, pulling back and standing almost nonchalantly against the wall.

Trying to wrap your head around what happened, you gripped the wall with your hand, feeling your legs grow weak to a point where you felt like you couldn't stand on your own. You could feel your wetness dripping, threatening to run down your thighs, as the throbbing became even more painfully exciting. You looked down at the floor, eyes closing as your frustration grew more and more by the second. Finally, with a little 'ding', the elevator stopped at the 16th floor. The moment the door opened you stepped out on wobbly legs, trying your best to walk properly. But of course, that wasn't going to happen. As you turned one long corridor, Lewis suddenly grabbed your waist, pushing you against the wall again, to reach down and suck on your neck. You let out a gasp, and tried to run your crotch against his, but the retaliated with a slap to your ass, smirking when a high pitched moan left your lips. Lifting you up against the wall, he mumbled against your ear "the key card" your clouded mind was unable to process the words, too consumed by slight relief you were getting. "Get the key card baby" he repeated. This time you noted it, reaching down to his pants pocket to pull out the key card. You couldn't resist running your hand over his cock, feeling how rock hard he was. The thought of him fucking you senseless returned, and you let out a groan.

Grabbing the card from your hand, he opened the door, propping you up against the door in your bedroom. His eyes were filled with a raw, animal desire, as he dropped the card on the floor and reached up to unzip your dress. He ripped the zipper down, your dress falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. He locked his eyes on your heaving chest, hand reaching up to grab your chin, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand slid up your torso, reaching behind to unhook the red lacy bra you were wearing, letting it drop to the floor as he took in the glorious sight in front of him. You waited, wanting him to just touch you, but he just stared, eyes looking into yours, clearly saying "beg for it"

You couldn't help the soft "please" that left your lips, too desperate for some sort of touch. "Please what?' Lewis said, tightening his grip on your waist. "Please" was all you could say again, nearly whimpering again at the rough look in his eyes. "Use your words baby. Now, please what?" "Please just touch me!" You finally gasped out, moaning loudly when he licked a stripe down your chest before taking your right tit into his mouth. His hand fondled the left one, running his thumb over your erect nipple, the rough pad of his thumb sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His mouth sucked on the skin of your tit, before moving down to bite down on your nipple. You gasped again, pain and pleasure coursing through your body as his tongue ran over your nipple over and over till it nearly felt raw. He switched his actions, moving his mouth to your left tit instead, letting his hand harshly fondle the other. He continued the same process of biting, licking and sucking, till he was satisfied with himself. "I fucking love this baby. Seeing you all wet and needy for me. So what do you want? My mouth? My fingers? My cock? Or does my baby want them all ?" He asked, watching as your pupils dilated and you let out a strangled moan.

You let your crotch rub against his thigh, gasping when the friction went straight to your core. "Look at you darling. I asked you what you what you wanted, and you picked my thighs? Well, I want to see you dripping. I want to see you cum on my fingers, my mouth, my thighs and especially on my cock. I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again till you can't even stand on your own fucking legs. I want your thighs to be shaking around my head. I want to see you moan and groan and scream my name so loud, by tomorrow everyone in this hotel will know my name, because you'll spend all night screaming it" you moaned again, his words going straight to your core."Please Lewis, God, just make me cum please!" The desperation of your cry was enough for him to carry you to the bed, dropping your body onto the soft mattress.

He pulled of shirt, unbuttoning every button so you could see him do it. He could see your eyes grow dark, as his compass tattoo came into sight. You had told him it was one of your favourites, and he had used it against you ever since you had told him that. Smirking at you, he climbed onto the bed, lying down between your legs. You pushed yourself up against the headboard, spreading your legs wide for him. His eyes grew dark, as your core came into his view, shimmering with your juices. A near animalistic growl left his mouth, the sound hitting your core. He moved so that he was situated right in front of your core. He let his eyes take in the sight of you in front of him, snapping back to reality when you let out a groan of frustration. Throwing you a devilishly reassuring smile, he inched neared and nearer, till his nose was nearly touching your clit. Then he just lay there. Not moving. You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your chest, chest heaving up and down, an alarming intense feeling growing in your tummy. Finally, when it became too much you let out a small scream of frustration "Oh for fucks sake Lewis please just fuck me!" Your outburst brought a smile to his face. "Oh I will. Just not yet" and with that, he ran a finger along your slit, before finally slipping it into you. You let out a moan, finally getting the friction you had been desperate for. His fingers circled your clit, thumb gently pressing down, before he removed it,only to slam it back down on your sensitive clit, earning a scream of pleasure from you.

He slipped a second finger into you, scissoring around your clit, as your desperate cries of "oh, oh baby! Fuck, fuck lewis-" were lost in the heat of the moment. He leaned his head down to your core, letting his tongue run along your slit too, before licking around it, collecting your wetness on his tongue, before letting it harshly circle your clit. You bucked up into his mouth, feeling his tongue wrap around your clit. He sucked the nub harshly, his fingers still moving in and out of you. "Oh God, Oh GOD, Lew-I- oh! Oh God!" Your broken moans were music to his ears as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You could feel a strange intensity growing in your stomach, feeling a lot stronger than your usual orgasm. The band in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you needed that something more to help it snap. That something more came when Lewis sucked your clit into his mouth, letting it rest in between his teeth, before flicking it with his tongue.

With a cry of "Oh fucking hell, Lew-" you camr gushing into his mouth, your juices coating his fingers and gushing onto his tongue, as he let you ride out your orgasm on his deadly skilled tongue. Well, he had got his wish. Your thighs were shaking around his head, as your body tried to come to terms with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body. Looking down, you saw him with his painfully hard cock, grinding down on the sheet, as he let out a moan at the relief the bedsheets gave him. Raising an eyebrow, you patted your thigh, signaling him to come over to you. "You loved on me so well bubs. But I can see how hard you are. Do you want to use me to get off?" You asked, watching the effect you had on him. All he could do was nod, as you sat up on your knees. "Stand up" you ordered, getting up from the bed as well.

You walked over to the wall, letting your body rest against it. Somewhat confused, Lewis followed you, standing in the space between your legs. "I tried to get off using your thighs didn't I? I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did. So use me. Use my thigh. Get off" looking at you in pure shock, your boyfriend moved forward, groaning when you pushed your leg against his throbbing cock. He relished in the friction, slowly beginning to move against your leg, moaning when he began to rub against your leg. He began to hump your leg faster, as the pleasure began to build up in his body, before you reached your hand down to cup his length in your hands, moaning when you realized your fingers didn't quite meet. You ran your fingers along his length. You pumped him, letting your thumb circle his sensitive tip, eliciting a soft whine from him. You circled faster, moving down to your knees, and letting your tongue run up his shaft very softly. Above you, Lewis slammed his hands against the wall, groaning when you took him into your mouth.

But a part of him still wanted to cum inside when he was fucking you (in a condom, because wrap it before you tap it) so he pulled you back up, smirking when you whined. "I know baby, but I just really wanna fuck you now. Back on the bed please, unless you want me to take you here against this wall" practically running, you clambered onto the bed. You watched as Lewis pulled out a condom, ripping the packet open before climbing back on top of you. He let his hand rest on your hip, eyes temporarily losing some of the animalistic need that had been present in them. Leaning down, he connected your lips together in a kiss, a searing, intense kiss that took your breath away. "Ready love?" He asked, looking into your eyes, looking to see if there was even a slight hint that you didn't want this. But you did.

With a sudden jolt, he thrust himself into you, groaning when your warm walls clamped down on him. His hips thrust into you, starting off slow, letting you adjust to his massive length. "My sweet baby,taking me so well. Does it feel good?" You couldn't even respond, mouth agape, as his the pace of his thrusts increased. "Answer me" he said, suddenly stopping. Almost crying out at the loss of pleasure, you looked at him with desperation. "Yes yes, fuck it feels so good, please don't stop!" "Thats all you had to say baby" he said, before pushing in again, slowly. Then, he pulled back out. Looking at him in confusion, you gasped when he slammed back into you, a high pitched moan of "Lewis!" leaving your lips. He moved so that he had a better hold of your hips, rocking the both of you back and forth, the intensity of his thrusts was so much that the bed knocked back against the wall. What he wasn't expecting was for you to take his left thumb up to your mouth, running your tongue over it before sucking on it.

Moaning, he started thrusting into you even harder, shifting so that he was directly hitting your g spot. "Oh, God ! Oh fuck, Baby that feels so good please keep going keep-oh!" The cry that left your lips was so loud, you were sure Perrie in the room next to yours had heard you. "Fuck baby, you take me so well" Lewis said, as he nearly hammered your g spot. He was so, so damn close to cumming, and when you leant up and bit a sensitive spot on his neck, he came, gushing into the guard between you two, but he wanted you to cum to, so he reached down to pinch and rub your clit, still riding out his orgasm in you, moaning when you came with a scream. He winced when your core spasmed on his sensitive cock, and he pulled out slowly, before collapsing next to you. Panting, you curled up to him, letting your hand rest on his compass tattoo. "Okay that was Godlike" you said, earning a tired laugh from your lover.

"Yeah it really was. I missed you" he said, allowing you to nuzzle into his neck, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too" you replied, kissing the tattoo. "I love you too" As you lay there together, still revelling in the moment, your phone buzzed. Reaching over to check it, you saw your groupchat with the girls flooding with messages.

-*-*-

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Y/N, I'm filing a noise complaint. 🍆

Jade ✨ - Pez 😂 let them be. It's been a while for her.

Leigh 🦋- She really got some tonight huh? 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️- LOL she did !! And it was obviously some goooood 'some' *wink wink*

Jade ✨- I could hear em too, and Im on the other end of the hall.

Leigh 🦋 - I know I did too! Must be some damn good sex. 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Go Y/N !!

Jade ✨ - Can't wait till she reads this.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Are they still going?!

Leigh 🦋 - No 😂 she's reading the messages. Y/N!! Yoohoo!

You - yes I'm here 🖕🏽

Jade ✨ - Did you have fun babe 😏

You - ..... yes

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - babe you can't really say no because we heard you

You- Im not saying I didn't have fun. But you guys need to calm down.

Leigh 🦋 - But its funnn

You - okay byeeee ❤

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Going for a round 2 😏?

You - okay I said bye.

Leigh 🦋 - she is !!

Jade ✨ - Go babe !

You - I need to leave this group.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - No we love you !! ❤

Leigh 🦋 - Yeah don't leave us ❤

Jade ✨- Don't leave meee ! ❤

You - Haha I'd never leave you girls ❤ now bye.

Jade ✨ - bye babe !

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - bye you sexy minx 😏

Leigh - bye hun 💙

*-*-*

Smiling to yourself, you put your phone away, to see Lewis looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Who was it?" "Just the girls" you said, cuddling back up to him. "What did they say?" Giggling, you looked up to him and kissed his neck. "They said they're going to file a noise complaint. And they asked me if we were going for a round two" "Were we really that loud?" He asked, looking at you in surprise. "Yeah, even Leigh heard us and she's at the end of the hall!" "Damn" Lewis said laughing. "Well," he said, looking at you again, with a cheeky look in his eye, "they were right about one thing" "And what is that?" You asked, smiling at him mischievously. "We are going for a round two"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

@maxverstappenx @grandestrategia (because you are worth it 🦋💙)

#lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 #sir lewis #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines #f1 drivers smut #littlemix!reader #little mix 🙌🏼🦋#little mix

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sweeterthanthis · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Summary: When Ransom takes you to the most expensive restaurant in Boston, he's not prepared to go without what he thinks he's owed. Even if you don't want to give it to him.

Warnings: NONCON, sexual violence, heavy knife play, mild blood play, humiliation, vaginal penetration, anal, anal creampie, forced orgasm, 18+.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is very dark. Please take the warnings seriously and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Thank you so much to @cockslut-padalecki for beta'ing this for me. I appreciate and love you! And big thanks to @msmarvelwrites and @river-soul for pre-reading and all your encouragement throughout. You're both incredible 🖤

‘How did I get myself into this mess?’

That thought had entered your mind a thousand times, from the second he insisted on ordering your drink for you. You don't even like red wine. But he insisted. Just like he insisted on ordering you the salmon. Insisted on paying the bill. Insisted on sharing a cab home. Insisted on walking you to your doorstep. You didn't notice him wave the cab off into the night, and if you had, you’d have run inside as fast as your feet could carry you.

You’ve been locked away in the bathroom for god knows how long, working your way through a panic, and desperately trying to figure out a way to get him out of here. Out of your house, and out of your life.

Sure, Ransom is gorgeous. When he’d first walked into the restaurant - twenty minutes late, of course - you were practically squirming in your seat. Bright, ocean blue eyes, chestnut hair perfectly coiffed and not a strand out of place, cheekbones that could cut glass. The man was a delight for the eyes, but it didn’t take you long to figure out that he was anything but sweet.

He’s condescending, arrogant, spiteful, clearly spoiled rotten - and in a nutshell, the total opposite of anything you’re looking for in a potential romantic partner. You had considered, just for a moment, inviting him into your bed for the night. A one and done kind of thing. Just to test out that admittedly impressive physique. But the second he cupped the waitresses ass right in front of you, you knew that wasn’t going to happen either.

“You’ve been in there an awfully long time, sweetheart.” His voice is muffled by the wood, the door handle jimmying as he tries to twist it free of the catch in the lock. Your hands are shaking, purse strewn across the couch, your cell phone completely out of reach. “C’mon, what are you doing in there? Didn’t even offer me a drink before you hid yourself away. Not a very good hostess, are you?”

You clench your jaw, teeth gritted together as you ball your hands into fists; trying to rid yourself of the unbridled rage threatening to claw its way out. Nothing good will come of you losing it. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a shaky breath - trying to find some semblance of calm amongst the chaos.

“I-” your voice shaky, you grip the edge of the sink to ground yourself. “I would like you to leave. I’m not feeling well. Must have been something I ate. Maybe the salmon?”

Silence falls upon you, and you release a breath you don’t realise you’ve been holding when you hear your front door slam shut a few moments later. Guess you were right about one thing. He really was an asshole. Sure, you aren’t sick - but he doesn’t know that. He hadn’t even bothered to ask you if you were okay, just upped and left.

You splash some cool water on your face, brush the taste of bitter red wine from your teeth and tongue, and remove your makeup. You can’t help but huff a laugh at the thought of telling the girls at work just how fucking atrocious your date was. At least you have a funny story to tell. You’d be laughing about it soon enough, right?

Making your way out of the bathroom, you pull the cord and turn off the light; locking the front door and hanging your keys up on the hook. You stifle a yawn as you make your way upstairs to your bedroom, pulling a sleep shirt from your dresser and tossing it onto the bed.

You spy your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brow and muttering to yourself, “Wasted yet another gorgeous dress on yet another asshole.”

Reaching awkwardly to unzip yourself, you shrug out of the dress and throw it into the laundry hamper at the end of your bed. You’re about to shuffle out of your lacy panties when your eyes land on the contents of your makeup bag strewn across the floor, and your heart misses a beat because you could have sworn it was on your dressing table when you left.

You look to the window to see if the heavy breeze knocked it over, but it’s closed; just like you know it would be. You shake your head from side to side, trying to rid yourself of all the silly thoughts flooding your brain.

“Swear I’m going fucking crazy sometimes.”

You sink to your knees with little to no grace, reaching for your mascara and your lipsticks, throwing them back into your cosmetic bag. You can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something’s not right. You still your movements, sucking in a breath through your nostrils as you look around the room.

Your heart stops in your chest, breath hitching in your throat when you see it.

A camel coloured, woollen coat that you’d recognise anywhere, draped across the arm of the chaise lounge in the corner of your bedroom; and you freeze.

You can’t move a muscle, tears pricking at your eyes. The realisation dawns on you, as if someone dumps a bucket of ice water on your head.

He’s still here.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re way too trusting?” His voice startles you, your body turning to face the doorway; Ransom’s large shadow illuminated by the light from the hall. His lecherous eyes wander over your body as you try to cover your modesty, standing on wobbly knees and reaching for the sleep shirt on your bed. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you. You won’t be needing it tonight.”

“Yo-you need to leave,” you stutter, holding the shirt tight against your chest, your knuckles white from gripping the thin cotton material. Your gut twists when he smirks at you, one hand behind his back and the other resting on his hip. You find your voice again, a little sterner this time. “I don’t want you here. Leave or I’ll call the cops.”

Ransom takes a stride forward as you take furtive little steps backwards, back digging into the dresser behind you. He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from head to toe, and then back again.

“Little lamb cornered by the wolf, huh? What did you expect, princess? I wined and dined your stubborn ass at the most expensive restaurant in Boston, and you think I’m gonna let you decide when the night’s over?”

You’re shaking, teeth chattering together in fright as he looms closer to you; his body a few feet from yours, crystal blue eyes burning with an intensity that chills you to the bone. He reaches for the shirt in your grasp swiftly, ripping it from your fingers and throwing it back over his shoulder - your hands the only thing left to protect your modesty.

“C’mon. Playing hard to get isn’t cute on you. Show me what I paid for.”

Your eyes flit from left to right, brain whirring as you try to figure out a way to escape him. There’s no doubt in your mind what he intends to do to you, and the mere thought of it causes bile to rise and burn in your throat.

“Go on. Try it,” he mocks, sensing your flight response rising to the surface. “Run. See how far you get. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of it. I knew you were into some kinky shit. Took it upon myself to have a little look-see through your bedside cabinet.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as shame engulfs you, the thought of him prying into your collection of vibrators and toys making your nose scrunch up in disgust. The last thing you could ever want is for him to put his hands on you.

You need to get the hell out.

He’s too fast for you though, snatching you up in his arms the second you get close enough, your back pressed roughly against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist. You feel a cool chill at your jugular, your eyes flitting down to the shine of a blade and a sob emitting from your mouth, the tip of it digging into your throat just enough to break the first layer of skin.

“You know, it’s a real shame it had to be this way,” he hums, breath hot against your ear as he walks you backwards a little. You want to struggle against his grasp, your mind screaming at you to act, to do something - anything. But the knife at your throat is enough to frighten you senseless. “I’m a real good fuck. Ask around, you’ll find that out. But you just had to go and make it difficult, didn’t you, princess?”

“Please,” you whisper, fingernails digging into the cashmere sleeve of his sweater. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He pulls the knife away from your neck just enough so his tongue can lathe at the crimson droplet seeping from the tiny wound; humming in satisfaction at the taste of your blood on his tongue.

“If your pussy tastes as good as that, I might have to come back for seconds.”

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him to hold yourself up, his hips grinding against your ass - the prominent bulge beneath his trousers pressing into the crease of your behind.

“Please, I don’t want this. P-please.”

“Please, please,” he taunts, spinning you round in his hold to face him, the knife in his hand snaking beneath the lace front of your bra and slashing it open - your breasts falling free as he shoves you back against your bed. “You’ll be begging soon enough, but it won’t be for me to stop.”

You lay there frozen, barely breathing as he pulls his sweater up over his head, his broad chest outlined in the shadow of the dim light. You must be staring, because he’s smirking again. Smirking at you as if you want this, as if you’re enjoying it.

“You know how lucky you are that I even took you out for dinner tonight, princess? I can’t remember the last time I fucked a girl in a bed. We don’t usually make it out of the car before they’re dropping their panties for me.”

Your eyes fix on the ceiling above you, arms resting against the mattress limply as you begin to accept it. It’s going to happen. He’s gone too far to stop now. His naked form is on top of you, forcing your thighs apart as he looms down over you. He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him as he runs the tip of the blade down over the valley of your breasts.

“C’mon. Give me a smile,” he whispers, his mouth latching painfully onto your nipple as he sucks it between his teeth. You hiss, your legs flailing either side of his waist as you struggle. “I bet, if I slip my fingers inside that little lace number - you’ll be soaked.”

You're crying, tears rolling down over your cheeks and onto the sheets below. You cringe when you feel the heavy thud of his cock against your lace covered core, closing your eyes and breathing in deep through your nostrils.

"Shall we find out?" Ransom asks, but he doesn't want an answer. He's not going to give you a choice in the matter regardless of what you say. He sits back on his haunches, the flat of the blade making its way down over your stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of your panties. "I'll make you a deal, princess. If you're not wet when I cut these panties off, I'll let you go."

You can't help but sob harshly, because you can already feel it. Your body betrays your mind, and heat spreads between your thighs, the dampness coating the gusset of your underwear. And he knows it, too. Can tell by the expression of shame on your features.

You jolt up the bed when the chill of the blade drags across your inner thigh, slipping beneath the lace and resting against your heated core. You hate the way your pussy clenches at the sensation, cursing yourself inwardly as he chuckles.

You feel the strain of material against your hips as he twists the blade, the serrated edge tearing through your underwear in one swift movement - leaving your cunt bare for his possessive stare.

Ransom lifts the knife up in front of him, smirking at the sight of it, the flat edge glistening and slick from your juices. You want to vomit. You think you might when he lowers it to your lips, pressing it against them and stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb. A misplaced tenderness that you don't appreciate.

"Looks like I was right, doesn't it?" He huffs proudly, nudging your bottom lip down with the tip of the knife. "Open up, princess. You can say you don't want it, but that pussy - oh, that pussy - she wants it."

His eyes are ferocious as you shy away, nuzzling your face into the mattress and refusing to follow his instruction. The slap of the blade on your cheek makes you cry out, dampness coating your cheek as he brings it back to your mouth.

"Don't make it worse for yourself. Do as you're told, and I might even let you come tonight. Bet I could get one outta you in less than five minutes. Wanna make that bet? Didn't work out so well for you the last time, did it?"

"Now, stick your tongue out." You do it, hesitating a little when the tip of your tongue hits the metal - the salty sweet tang of your essence soaking into your tastebuds. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You flinch as he wipes the remainder of your slick against your cheek, the blade nicking your jawline on the way down, warmth rising to the surface as a droplet of blood trickles down to the hollow of your throat.

"Now, can I put the fucking knife down? Been waiting all night to get my hands on this tight body."

You hesitate a little, nodding slowly and letting your tears of anguish flow freely. He tosses the knife onto the floor next to his clothes, trapping your body against the mattress with his as he forces his mouth onto yours. He kisses you with a ferocity that knocks you off kilter, his tongue forcing its way between your teeth. You fight the urge to bite down, his strength easily overpowering yours. You just want it to be over.

"Next time I'll take my time, get to know what makes this body tick. But I think I've waited long enough to get inside that little cunt, don't you?"

Next time.

You swallow down the bile that gathers in the back of your throat, holding your breath when he reaches between your bodies and runs his fingers through your traitorously sloppy folds - pinching at your clit and making you shriek.

"Absolutely fucking drenched. You act all demure and frigid, but deep down you're just a whore looking to get fucked." You can't hold back the whimper that escapes you when he rubs on your sensitive nub, tiny - strangely tender - circles causing you to pant. "That's it. Just enjoy it, princess. Behave, and I'll make it good for you."

You can feel that all familiar tingle rising to the surface, one hand gripping the sheets beside you and the other covering your mouth, almost as if you're trying to hold in your mewls. It's disgusting, he is disgusting - but you find yourself only a handful of strokes away from your orgasm. Ransom rips your hand away from your mouth, positioning your hands above your head and securing them both with one of his own.

"No. I wanna hear those pretty noises. I deserve them." Ransom's ministrations quicken, your cunt clenching and releasing as you hold your breath and try to stave it off; but it's no use. "Oh, here it comes."

Your whole body jerks as you try to wriggle free of his grasp, your climax crashing over you and sending you dizzy, blood pounding in your ears and your cries ringing out in the air. Fresh tears fall at the realisation that he was right. How easy it was to send you hurtling over the edge. You're disgusted with yourself.

"I'd hate to say I told you so, princess - actually no, that's a lie - I fucking told you so," he sneers, shoving your thighs apart once more and settling between them, your wrist aching from the force of his grip. "Now, be a good girl and beg for it."

"Fuck you," you snap, your suppressed rage bursting out of you as you spit in his face - your saliva rolling down his cheek.

The blood drains from your face as he smirks and wipes it away with the back of his hand, reaching for your throat and squeezing roughly. He brings himself level with you, his eyes staring a hole through your skull as he seethes. "That was a mistake. I was gonna make it good for you, but now I'm just gonna take exactly what I want."

You're on your front before you know it, your body free of his weight as he leans back and reaches down over the edge of the bed. You try to scramble away when you see the knife in his hand, desperate sobs wracking your body when he grips your ankle and tugs you back towards him; his knees either side of your thighs as he presses his chest against your back.

"Please!" you cry, shuddering as he drags the tip of the knife up over the curve of your spine. "Please, I'm begging you, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. Feel how hard you got me?" he purrs, slapping the heavy weight of his dick against the cleft of your ass. You wince and clench your thighs, but it's no use, the bulbous head prodding at your hole. "When's the last time you got fucked? Not that it matters. You've never been fucked like this."

"No!" you scream, his hefty girth splitting you open in one brutal thrust, pussy fluttering to try and accommodate him. He's huge and you're sobbing. "No, please no."

"Jesus fucking Christ, that's some good pussy," he grunts in your ear, the pressure from the knife nudging against the column of your throat. "Does it hurt, princess? I don't care."

You sigh with relief when he withdraws, but he soon punches the breath from your lungs when he fills you up again - his hips pounding against your ass, flesh rippling from the sheer force of it.

"You're gonna come all over my dick, and you're gonna say thank you. Got it?" he spits, punching into you mercilessly, fucking your frozen body into the mattress. You cry out when he applies more pressure to the blade, your pulse thrumming against the metal. "I said, got it?"

"Yes!" you howl, clinging to the comforter and bracing yourself for each violation of your soaked channel.

You hate the way your cunt sucks him in, despise the way your knees tremble as he sets your nerve endings on fire. He can feel the way your body reacts to him, teases you with it, whispers filth over your shoulder that makes your gut twist.

"You look so pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that? I think you're gonna come again."

Every muscle in your body tenses up, his animalistic grunts vibrating against the nape of your neck at the feel of your walls clinging onto him.

"Oh, you are. And then I'm gonna fill you up. I hope you're on birth control."

You are. Thank fucking God, you are. But the fact that he truly doesn't care makes your blood run cold. He's a fucking psychopath, and you just need to make it out of this alive.

Ransom sets the knife down behind him, bicep curling around your throat and tugging your head back against his collarbone - devious eyes searing into yours, bloodshot and damp with tears.

"You're a mess, look at you," he smirks, throwing his head back in pleasure when he punches against the deepest parts of you, balls slapping against the crease between your thighs. You close your eyes, try to take yourself somewhere peaceful in your head. Just want this to be over. "You can close your eyes, but your body is on fire for me, princess. I can feel it, and I know you can, too."

He's right. Your limbs are trembling, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh like static in your ears. You climb higher with each stroke of his throbbing cock against your swollen walls.

"Oh!" you gasp, his lips latching onto your shoulder and sucking a purple bruise into your dewy skin. You can't take it, so close to shattering that your body just takes over. "I-, fuck!"

"Thank me. Say thank you when you come on my dick. Remember who makes you feel this good. Say it."

Your eyes roll back, a garbled mess of words spilling from your lips and your head pounding. You're wrecked, pliable and fucked out beneath him - your ruined, abused cunt gripping him so fucking tight, you barely register the loss as he withdraws. Your brain is hazy, the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your asshole making your eyes snap open in fright.

"N-ah!" you yelp, the crown of him punching through the tight ring of muscle, tip nestling inside as you tremble from the foreign intrusion. His hot, sticky spend splashes against your insides, sharp jerks of his hips sending shooting pains throughout your body.

"I said I was gonna fill you up. I didn't say where."

Ransom takes a minute, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the scent of your coconut conditioner. It sickens you, the way he praises you as your body lays lifeless beneath him while he recovers from his climax.

You barely move when he lifts himself off you, you don't even blink as the sound of his belt buckle clinking alerts you to the fact that he's redressing. Your mind is shot, your body is wrecked, and you choke out a sob when you feel his come ooze out and nestle between your pussy lips.

"Thanks for the date," he leans down and kisses you on the cheek, and you recoil in disgust. "Next time you seduce me like that, you could at least buy me flowers first. Oh, and don't forget to lock up. There are some real assholes out there."

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans x you #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader

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lustbile-archive · 3 years

Text

Haechan is almost disgusted by himself from the way he feels when you sit like that. He tells himself that there’s no reason for him to get so turned on by this, he should just be happy that you’re comfortable enough around him that you don’t feel the need to watch the way you sit and absolutely nothing more.

But there’s just something. Something about the way you sink into the corner of the couch, your bare legs relaxed and spread apart, and a cute pout pushing out your lip as you tap away on your phone. He just feels like a pervert from how inviting he finds the space between your thighs, the one place he could spend hours happily distracted by.

He had always been handsy with you, from the first time you let him touch you it was like his fingers and mouth were constantly trying to worm their way under your clothes. So maybe that’s why he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the soft pink fabric that covered his favorite meal, and maybe he wasn’t a insatiable pervert, maybe just a really really, really giving and attentive boyfriend.

You weren’t surprised when he sat down next to you, his side pressing against your shin as he pretends to look at his own phone. You knew from day one that his love languages were physical touch and quality time, so when he’d sit closer than necessary you didn’t bat an eye.

You also, to his disbelief because he could have sworn he was being slick, weren’t surprised when you felt his fingers brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. If anything you just relaxed more, your leg that rests on the edge of the couch moving enough to drape over his lap just enough to keep you spread open for him and a content sigh slips from your lips.

Your motions, as small as they are, push his hand closer to the hem of your shorts, and he takes this as a full access invitation.

“What you doing baby?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t creeping along the hem of your underwear, and he even rests his cheek against your knee that presses into the back of the couch to put on an unnecessarily innocent act.

“Scrolling through twitter,” you decide to play along, for no other reason than it just seems funny, or at least as funny as it can be with his knuckles brushing softly against your clit through the thin fabric, “what are you doing?”

“Not a lot,” he huffs dramatically as he moves to wrap his index finger around the crotch and tug, the slightly roughed up skin of his finger tips finally getting a little jolt from your hips as they brush your dampening skin, “kinda bored honestly.”

“Is there anything you can think of that would keep you entertained?” your voice has an edge as you try to finish your sentence. You can feel your heart beat pick up and your face flush as his middle and ring fingers prod against your entrance, and even with how much you pride yourself in being able to keep up with your wild boyfriend, you fear he may be able to stick to the casual facade you two have going much longer than you.

“Yeah,” he nods against your knee, his squished cheek looking cute and out of place with his wandering hands, “I can think of a couple things.”

It’s when the final syllable leaves his lips that he finally does it. His fingers pushing in and curling against your fluttering walls. His wrist immediately starts moving to pulse the digits slightly in and out, and the small gasp you let out is both from the feeling and the way your falling phone almost lands directly on your face.

“Hmmm yeah that’s what I wanted,” he mutters, his pupils getting bigger and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in a way that tells you that he doesn’t register the words slipping over his tongue.

“Hyuck,” you’re not sure why you whine out his name, but you both shift together after it’s said. Your hips wiggle closer to him, begging for something, whatever, more and he turns to face you more. His face slips off your knee, resting against your thigh as he starts to slide down, and before you can speak again he’s laying on his stomach, and your stomach twists in anticipation when you feel his warm breath hit where his finger dig into you.

“I didn’t mean to bother you baby,” he says, but his almost condescending tone tells you it’s a flat out lie. And the only things that help to set in stone that he fully intended to bother you, is his free hand wiggling out from under him to push the layers of fabric out of his way and his sharp tongue laying flat against your previously neglected clit.

Your socked feet dig slightly into his sides as your head digs back into the plush couch and your back curves away, the feeling of your curled toes tickling him enough that he groans against your skin and his finger push harshly into you. The chain reaction only makes your eye sight fuzzy and whimpers to escape you.

“Please please please,” the last remaining word in your brain flies out over and over in a whiny whisper as he sucks your clit between his full lips and rolls his relentless tongue against it.

His fingers only get rougher and faster as they pump into you, and the way they catch perfectly against the spot that makes you all but melt into a puddle, makes your eyes flutter and roll as your hands finally shoot down to tangle into his hair.

You’re only partially aware of the loud thump your phone causes as it drops to the floor from your squirming, but the way haechan licks at you like he’s never eaten in his life with his eyes closed shut tightly takes you attention away from anything else in your surroundings.

The only hint that he’s still mentally with you is the way he reacts when you warn him that you’re close. The biting promise of an orgasm running up your spine, as you twitch and grumble only allows you to offer him the words “so close,” but that’s enough for him to push you further.

His shoulders shift from underneath his shirt as he adjusts himself against the couch. The motions giving him better leverage on fucking his fingers into you, while also making his groans vibrate against you when his crotch pushes against the couch cushion.

His fingers push faster as he tries to push you over the edge, your fluttering and tightening walls doing nothing to stop how eagerly he pulls you apart, and when he lets out one last, loud moan, you feel yourself finally snap.

You say a quick thank you, to whatever out there, that you two are the only ones in the house at that second. The shocked yelp you let out, quickly morphs into loud swears and moans as you come against his face, and you almost worry about a noise complaint regardless of the blinding pleasure.

He works you through your orgasm with a still high eagerness, as he’s never been one to slow down, and you swear you may lose your mind as your body tries, and fails, to curl away from his determined mouth.

The only ounce of relief you get is when his finger slip out of you, his now free hand moving to wrap around your waist as his tongue takes in the free space to lick you all over to clean you of the evidence of your orgasm.

He probably would have tried to pull another out of you if your foot didn’t lift to push against his shoulder, your body almost working on its own to relieve itself from the overstimulation. His lips detach reluctantly, but once he’s away from your skin, he offers a bright, breathless, and purely evil grin.

“Fuck Hyuck,” you pant, your lips subconsciously curling to match his grinning look before you gently kick at him again, “you still bored at all?”

“Nope,” he says proudly as he moves to stand, seemingly ignoring the way he strains against his sweatpants and the fabric of your bottoms still tucked to the side and exposing you to the room, “I’d mark myself down as pretty damn entertained.”

“Oh so you’re done here?” you ask in disbelief as you motion pointlessly around.

“Yeah I think so, for now at least,” you’re still in shock as he turns to walk away, “but you should go use the restroom, I’m about to make us something to eat.”

And it’s as he walks into the kitchen, his still wet fingers now shoved into his mouth as he licks you off of them, that he thinks, ‘nah I don’t think I’m a pervert’

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #Haechan smut #donghyuck smut #spp

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

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glorified-red · 3 years

Note

Could I request hcs for subtle ways the boys express their protectiveness?

Thank you for the request my love! I got to play a fun little game of ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ for which request to do.

Protective BatBoys

word count: 1600~

warnings: insinuation of someone getting hit by a car, mentions of attackers

I was quite tempted to write Bruce headcanons to this but I must hold back ><

Dick Grayson

Ah, Dick Grayson, the King of small romantic protective gestures

Every time, without fail, Dick will wait until he watches you get inside your house safely before driving/walking away

Its a really cute tick of his because he covers it up with a goodbye kiss and goofy waves that leave you giggling even after you close your house door

But its so he knows where you are, and he can see for himself that you made it safely inside because the second he turns away too soon, you may get locked out, or someone can crawl out from the bushes and nab you

Paranoid, he knows

He constantly wraps you up in things, when you two go swimming he’ll patter up from behind you and place a towel around your shoulders, patting you dry along the way

Very insignificant gesture but he doesn't want you to catch a cold in the A/C or Gotham wind

He’ll do the same with his jackets, maybe even plop his hat on your head when it's gets to the snowy seasons 1. Because its adorable seeing the hat fall into your eyes and 2. Because it'll warm your head up

Scarves too, he’ll even go on a tangent about how cold it is outside while he wraps you in it

Dick will always offer to drive you places, even if you insist on driving yourself to meet up with him or walking there, Dick will still offer because it means he’ll be present if you get into a wreck, sucks but then he can help with first aid

If you decline his offer though, he’ll politely ask for you to take Titus or Ace with you whenever you walk somewhere, they’re trained and he trusts them to keep you company/safe when he can't

Jason Todd

Jason’s protectiveness comes from a place of knowing how cruel the world actually is

He can't stand the idea of anything happening to you

If he has to, he will use his reputation of Red Hood as a way to keep you safe, putting a man at gun point and sneering out, “They’re off. Limits.”

He’d bust a whole trafficking ring if it meant ending a person who touched you or hurt you in any way

But Jason’s protectiveness doesn't stop while he's wearing the helmet

Even when you two are sleeping, Jasons unconsciously protecting you, no matter how you two cuddle, Jason always positions himself as closest to the bedroom door

Whether his back is to the door or he’s facing it, Jason needs the comfort of knowing any person coming into the room would have to get through him before even reaching you

He also envelopes you, he's a big guy so its pretty easy for him to wrap you up in his arms as an extra layer of protection from the outside world

Jason doesn't really like the idea of training you past basic combat or gun skills, hell, he doesn't like involving you in the family business if he doesn't have to

So he inserts himself into any situation you may need protection in

Which is exactly why he starts going to the gym with you as a work out buddy

Jason makes it sound like he just wants to spend time with you or help you achieve your goals faster since he knows how the body works from his Robin days

But deep down you both know his true intentions: he wants to keep an eye on you

The gym is crawling with creeps that have the guts to ogle at you or get too touchy, but having Jason’s 6 foot beefcake of an ass standing beside you the entire time is like an instant creep repellent

Plus, he gets to spot you and make sure you don't get injured from bad technique or from pushing yourself too hard

He’ll even encourage you with innuendos the entire time, but at the end of the day, he’ll gladly walk you home

Tim Drake

Tim is the most subtle about his inner protectiveness, a subtle King if you will

Most times when he gets protective, you never even notice

When you two cuddle in your house, it takes him a very long time to actively fall asleep because he doesn't trust your home security system if you even have one so he forces himself to stay awake just incase anything happens

But don't worry, he’ll eventually get to updating the security in your house

He does get these protective eyes whenever something is off when he's around you, they narrow a bit and latch onto whatever is off, glaring holes into the offending object until its all clear

Its quite terrifying to witness and very hard to miss when Tim is staring dead at the man speaking to you from across the room at a Gala, sipping his drink in the corner

If he feels the need, he will walk up and control the situation, whether it mean inserting himself into the convo or simply being present for it, he’ll do it

The thing with Tim though, is when he's protective, he’s almost always touching you in some way

His fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as he speaks to a random person who walked up to you, clinging to your shirt/sleeves when he’s analyzing a situation and doesn't want you to go forward just yet, or even as simple as holding your hand as he leads you home

Tim also keeps small snacks/waters on hand at all times to protect you from Gotham heat and pesky hunger, very much like a mother hen because he also carries a first aid kit everywhere

He follows you whenever you walk alone around Gotham at night, he’s already on patrol so he might as well make sure you make it home safe, if anything happens he won't think twice about intervening as RR

If your going out somewhere alone he always always always asks you to call him until you make it to your destination, he doesn't care if he's working on something or in the middle of a board meeting, he has an assistant for a reason who can give him notes

Its become a normal thing for you to send him your Uber tracking link so he can watch it, if you don't send it he won't hesitate to hack into your account just to find it

Damian Wayne

Damian? Wayne? Being subtle?

Its usually pretty obvious when Damian gets protective over you

He’s the type who won't hesitate to pull out a knife out of god knows where and threaten whatever is responsible for you being uncomfortable

This leads to very interesting encounters of you having to hold him back because ‘oh no a random guy bumped into you and didn't apologize’ and suddenly Damian is missing

He’s also incredibly blunt, saying things like “Cover your drink” at galas or handing you one of those hand held tasers before you go out and saying “Go for the neck”

Will insist on training you himself, whether its hand-to-hand combat or with a sword, Damian wants to keep track of your progress himself so he can make sure all your weaknesses are trained

Its also because he doesn't want his grimy brothers near you, so its protective on all counts

But subtlety? Theres a few you can notice after being with him for awhile

He’s very careful when going out around Gotham with you, Damian knows he can fend for himself so he will gladly take the brunt of any possible situation

This leads to him always walking on whichever side of you thats closest to the road, so on the off chance a car derails, he’ll get hit first

Always making sure to match your pace when you two walk together, he doesn't want you getting too far ahead of him because he'd have to run to get to you, too far behind and he might not notice you getting taken silently, he wants you right in arms reach at all times

He has a permanent scowl and narrowed eyes but when he's protective, they get even more prominent

Bonus

All the BatBoys do the same exact thing out of instinct when it comes to protecting you

None of them will hesitate to step in between you and any attacker, pulling you behind them so they are in the line of fire now

Its a subtle action that each of them do, albeit with some differences

Damian will push the attacker back as far as he can from you, putting plenty of distance between the two of them and you, so if anything breaks out, you can run away easily

Dick will hold his arms out, fully covering you but keeping his hands in the fray so if the attacker tries attacking you from any angle, Dick is ready to protect

Tim will grip onto you somehow, keeping his hand right on your bicep or forearm so he can still hold you, he doesn't know if there can be a hidden attacker from behind that will pry you away from him, so touching you is his way of making sure he doesn't lose track of you

Jason will slip in front of you and cross his arms, its a sign of nonchalance but obvious dominance, showcasing that he doesn't need his hands to be intimidating to the attacker, he’ll glare and challenge them so all attention is on him now and not you

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption

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jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya

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3desiderium3 · 3 years

Text

For your love

chapter two - Venus Doom

[ series masterlist ]

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : basically I want to describe you how I imagine Y/Ns and Damianos relationship in the best way possible.

THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SHOULD LOOK UP TO OR IDOLZE OR ROMANTICIZE!!!

slight angst , mentions of corruption , mentions of sex , mentions of abuse and some mental illnesses , god complex , mentions of various kinks ,

song recommendation - venus doom

Damiano David was a very complex person. He was a very hard to define persona. Adored and respected by many who knew him or not , never feared but was certainly often a main topic of various gossips.

He was very energetic and optimistic person , he loved to provide good time for the people around him but he also expected to be entertained. He was so artistic and charismatic, he had this cloudy velvety aura that could describe him as royalty.

He wanted everything or nothing .

He wanted to be dominant in every field he could reach. He was hardworking and stubborn.

He had a vision he didn't hesitate to fulfil.

His looks and his self presentation was mainly an act put up as guarding system and some sort of mechanism to prevent himself from bad outcomes.

Only his closest family , his bandmates ( whomst are also practically a family to him ) and his beloved dearest lover knew him truly.

Y/N however , knew him better than he did himself .

She was the first girl he let under his skin and under his layers of colours , luxurious presentations and egoistic posture.

He was bewitched by her. He opened himself up in all sort of ways he could to her.

She was the first girl he was making love to , not simply just fucking , but making love to, the first girl he ever cried in front of , the first one he introduced his ENTIRE family to , the first one he considered having their own family with etc .. etc ..

She was simply love of his life.

There was nothing much more to say about him than either to praise him or despite him.

Depending on if you wanted to be him / with him or if he stole your girl.

He was a sweet manipulative heartbreaker who was just simply along his fame and talent bored to death.

He cared about his physical appearance a lot , he took extra care when it came to facial and body hygiene and he loved to look good and markable.

He loved to dress fancy and he loved to wear accessories , he loved being in some dim spotlight.

He meet Y/N through his band mate Thomas , almost 3 years ago , and now they are dating 2 years in a row. Never breaking up but constantly fighting.

Her family loved him , I mean , everybody in her surrounding did. But their not so hidden aggressive and toxic relationship was not something they tried hiding.

He never laid a hand on her , only when fucking , he never cheated on her , only flirted to make her pissed , he maybe once beaten up a guy for talking to her , he never controlled her movements or tried changing her habits but he did liked to make bitchy comments trying to hide his jealousy and concern.

He had a huge pride along his ego that he was so damn skilled at hiding , but Y/N saw it instantly.

He was in fact often insecure when it came to dating , especially if it was a relationship he cared about.

He was not insecure about his looks , his habits , his actions , way of making love to a girl or if someone liked him or not. He was insecure if he is good enough at pleasing his partner in a spiritual and sensual way.

I repeat what I said . He always must be dominant.

So , in a situation like this , where you have a person whomst is consisted of su much pride and ego and insecurities , what are you going to do?

Y/N questioned her sanity and her mental health so many god damn times.

She was thinking for herself almost every second or third day if this is really what she wants for herself ? Is this the person she swears her life upon?

Yes.

And million yes in a row.

Damiano was a complex person with some certain needs that was just simply afraid of losing the most valuable person in his life.

His pride was not allowing him to admit that to her verbally , but his actions ( which Y/N knew like they where hers) gave him away.

So instead of reassuring himself somehow that their relationship is not in danger when it came to those simply and silly small things they fight over each day , he became violent and possessive.

His toxic and deadly behaviour and perfect skill of manipulation was the any way he thought was possibly good enough to keep her beside him.

She got hooked onto him.

She couldn't live a day without him. She would rather fight and yell at him than to leave him. He was her everything and so was she to him.

They where not so different. Y/N was also very capable of getting her way through manipulations and coping his actions.

But believe me... They where the sweetest and most dear people you could stumble upon.

They where both very supportive of each others carriers , they always had cute dates planned ahead and they had surprisingly the same hobbies.

They simply adored each other.

They where madly in love and it was taking over their racional reactions.

When a huge dramatic beyond the borders fight happens between them Y/N either gets kicked out of their apartment for the night or she simply leaves by herself.

In those times the only safe place is her parents house and she often heard her mother repeat the same damn words.

" Y/N I love that boy so much and he is very dear to me and your father as well , but he crossed the line again, you should start to consider if he is the healthiest option for you. "

Y/N hated her mother for being so right in such times.

Their mutual mental health was not a thing to brag about. They never mentioned paying visits to some kind of relationship adviser. They thought it was not needed , that they can handle themselves the best.

But Y/N did seek for some professional help and Damiano did not hold her back. He was happy even to hear about it. He never considered going for himself but he was happy and somehow sad that his lover could open to someone professional who could help her out with coping around stressful situations.

He was more than aware that he was causing her the most damage.

Their apartment was cozy , creamy coloured and modern. Their fashion taste was opposite yet similar.

They had a small dog and 2 gold fishes. They also planned to move into a bigger house with bigger yard once they decide on having family.

Damiano was convinced him and Y/N would be the most amazing parents a child could wish for , both of them spoiling their children with love and switching between good and bad cop role. He wanted a girl and a boy , in that order.

But he also wanted to focus on his career , Y/N as well.

Maybe those children will bring them closer to that inner peace they are eagerly searching for.

When it came to appearing together in public places they had one simple rule.

If I am not coming neither are you. They all shared mutual friends and they where always invited together on events and such things.

There was a difference actually.

When the band Måneskin, in which Damiano was lead singer , was invited somewhere Y/N always came , often mistaken for the 5th member or their menager. But in fact she way jealous of everyone landing an eye on her glorious boyfriend.

Those nights went peacefully some might say. But they didn't see the hand or thigh gripping under the table , the oral sex in public restrooms and silent eye language of hate and despite in their eyes . The kind of language only Y/N and Damiano knew for.

Y/N had a lot of friends. She was never forbidden to see them and she could go whenever as long as she was telling him where and with who she was , never turning her location off and always answering his calls and messages.

He had no problem with it , after all he followed her around secretly. She found out maybe 2 times out of 102.

Damiano is a type of ' a small circle of close friends and wide circle of acquaintances ' person. Victoria , Thomas and Ethan witnessed many fights of theirs.

Y/Ns best friend Y/Bsf/N as well.

The 4 of them would often exchange worried looks on their faces as Y/N would throw things at Damiano and he would shout such filthy and problematic stuff at her.

Ethan and Victoria had an intern joke that soon became something they rarely mention cause in each da they became more and more concerned for their friends.

" I don't need to watch porn , all I need to do is imagine Y/N and Damiano fucking after fight. "

Everyone thought that it was a phase these two lost themselves in. But it was not.

And it never got worse , it was always the same old tiring stuff between them.

Both of them where hard smokers , never considering doing drugs or overdosing with alcohol. Tho Damiano knew to drink beyond his abilities.

" If both of them would stop smoking , they could build two skyscrapers on the spot in one day. " Thomas and Y/Ns dad joked oftenly.

Thomas was the closest to Y/N out of the other band members. Damiano was never jealous of him neither did he felt like he could ruin their relationship.

First reason was that Thomas was the one who met them and thanks to who Damiano found the love of his life.

Second reason was that Thomas was beyond scared to even try thinking of doing something more than friendly to Y/N.

Victoria and Y/N had such a great friendship indeed. Having rare but meaningful girls night and sleepovers and rants about everything.

They cooked , went in shopping and shared topics about everything together.

Victoria was there for Y/N so many times listening to her cry on her shoulder about Damiano being an asshole.

Ethan was a huge softie for Y/N , he saw role model in her and he had just an amazing amount of respect for her. There was so much adoration between these two.

Damianos and Y/Ns sex life was yet another (not so much surprisingly) aggressive but consentive thing in their relationship.

It was built on mutual respect towards their partners needs. Simple as that is Damiano would never do and has never done something to make Y/N uncomfortable , same goes for her to him.

Before even sleeping together for the first time they detailedly talked about everything they where and where not interested in.

Their sex was rough, fast , aggressive , filled with degradation coming from his side.

Damiano was a switch top , but when it came to his so to say submissive side , it was expressed in very small amounts .

He loved being in charge , he was very flexible and he loved to use his tongue a lot , he loves to blindfold her and torture her , he loves slapping and biting into her soft creamy skin , shoulders , neck and chest especially.

He loved when Y/N left marks on his back and thighs from her sharp nails , he loved how she took good care of her hygiene and now she smelled.

He loved her hair and loved to squish her thighs. Did I mentioned he was into biting?

Y/N was flexible when it came to kinks , but she was definitely a switch bottom , it was just that she wasn't interested in being dominant and there was no need for it in her opinion.

She knew how to seduce Damiano , she knew very well.

After each time they slept together , regardless if it was fucking to realise all that stress or if it was love making he would always , but always ask her the same.

'Was it good , how are you feeling mio amore?'

Mio amore or simply amore was his favourite nickname for her . Aftercare was huge kink for them.

Damiano was not into letting Y/N leave visible marks on him , neither was he so much into marking her visible spots but sometimes when rage blinds him her porcelain heck is his canvas.

He loved planned dates and he loved bringing her various flowers every third or forth day. He never forgot about a single special day of theirs and he sometimes remembers the birthdays of her family members even before her.

He loved , and i mean loved spoiling her with gifts. Y/N also loved giving him gifts but more than that she loved to cook with him some delicious and various meals.

Damiano and Y/N where not near the perfect. But they where madly in love. And no one could ever take that away from them

A/N sooo as i sad on the beginning this is my personal view of the relationship these to have going on. This was in fact inspired by my personal experience and i want this story not fully to be a smut or nsfw but a kinda lovey one , just wanna say this is not kind of behaviour you should tolerate or romanticize !

#damiano david #damiano maneskin #maneskin #eurovision #eurosong #eurovision 2021 #eurovision italy #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #relationship #toxic behavior #fanfic #toxic relationship #slight smut #slight angst #smut #zitti e buoni #love

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sinnamonrolle · 3 years

Text

[ the little moments] ♡ Leviathan

4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.

✿ part of a series now! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.

“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.”

Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked.

He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.

“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”

When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.

Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying.

When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way.

“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”

“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”

Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair.

“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”

There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window.

“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.”

It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…”

His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.

“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”

You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public.

Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt.

“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”

Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”

The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears.

“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”

“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”

Pop.

“—too tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late.

The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.

“...”

“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?”

Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.

“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”

Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed.

“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A clown! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”

When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet.

Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”

Levi caught your hand.

“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand.

Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face.

Now, you were the one blushing.

Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”

-------

Masterlist!

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

#Kurt Kelly x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader #Bitch Reader #Mean Girl Reader #Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Heathers #Heathers x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot #Ram Sweeney

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