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dollfacefantasy · 8 months

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Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.”

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you.

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up.

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top.

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple.

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh.

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut

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wispythreads · 6 months

Text

I did catch on to that part of it with him bouncing between jobs so frequently, and some of the other things like the fridge freezer, but they were still included in the jumbled up thoughts I listed out partly because I was thinking about them before coming to an answer, and partly because I'm not fully sure if those answers are all there is to it.

Cause, yeah, there’s the newspaper clipping rebuking him for being “unprofessional and brash” (which damn that’s also just rotating in my head because Vince was clearly reading this specific clipping earlier and blatantly lied saying Rody hadn’t been mentioned at all, later scribbling out the section talking about the waiter), he’s very clearly messy and unkempt in pretty much every aspect of his life, and even if he gets the to-go question right in the tutorial, Vince appends the "Good work." with "keep tone in mind."

But, the thing is, he does know a lot of the basics. Much of the tutorial is really just for the benefit of the player to know how the mechanics of the game works, Rody meanwhile nods along and does whatever task is needed without comment, only getting tripped up when Vince mentions the way the menu for his bistro works, and when the aforementioned customer asked if he could get boxes to go or call in his order ahead of time. Which I think are reasonable things to get tripped up on! Those seem like things that would vary depending on the establishment he was working for.

I keep thinking about his reaction when Vince pivoted the conversation of "do you actually like your job" onto Rody. His awkward response that it paid him money. Vince voicing specifically “I doubt you wanted to wait tables for a living-”, and that being met with how there was “something” Rody went to school for, that he was too hesitant to tell Vince, feeling he’d get made fun of. The impression that its some passion he had that just didn't work out. The revelation later that the “something” in question was him majoring in hospitality.

He was afraid he'd be made fun of for actively going to school and choosing to study for skills that, either ironically or purposefully, would've been useful for his current job of waiting tables. A goal that he flunked out of. He has had 28 jobs in the service industry over the course of 7 years. He keeps losing his job, but he also keeps getting hired.

I keep thinking of the post-credits scene of the Best Served Hot, whisky lemon cake ending. "I can't keep watching you ruin any semblance of progress you make with yourself while trying to make me happy, it's exhausting-"

He's only 4 days into this job when he approaches Vince for a raise. He already figures he'll have enough to do something nice for Manon, his "girlfriend," by the end of the week, but he wants more to make it really special. He is very clearly told 'no.'

On the 5th day, when his shift is finally over and done, we don't next see him as we usually do, back at his apartment. He's still at the bistro, all the lights turned out. The only other person presumably being Vince hacking away at the meat in the freezer that'll be used for the meals in the morning. The first time I went through that night, I presumed Rody had just been selected to stay late and help clean up for the night, with whatever Vince was doing in the background ominous horror ambience to be unsettled by.

But we can't really do anything while there that would support this initial assumption. There are only two things you can do. Snoop around in Vince's office, and... steal from the cash register. Whether you avoid doing the latter as I did or not, it has no bearing on whatever ending you get, but just the fact that it's even an option to Rody...

How many other times did he allow his love for Manon to rule over his decisions, making choices in the pursuit of what he believed would make her happy, no matter the cost, before finally facing a price for his obsession beyond the scope of his worst nightmares?

...

And after all that I do want to defend the rollerskates a bit because

Rollerskates in restaurants are kinda a thing, in the 1960s (the year this game is set) they were a pretty popular gimmick/tool for diners in the U.S. at least, not sure about elsewhere in the world unfortunately

Yeah he canonically brought and proceeded to wear rollerskates to work at a fancy bistro. But that also means Vince watched him show up to work one day, wearing rollerskates, and just let him do it. Just watched Rody roll around his fancy bistro attending to customers that expect the highest of professionalism, and said nothing.

#dead plate #dead plate spoilers #rody #bit of play experience #sort of #hopefully this makes sense for others reading this my thoughts still feel very jumbled up

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angel-of-the-moons · 3 months

Text

The Arm of a God (And Other Things)

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You take a week-long hiking trip alone, despite the warnings at the lodge from experienced hikers.

But were you truly alone?

No. Never.

The bears and mountain lions were the least of your concerns. In fact...

They never were to begin with.

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, PiV sex, unprotected sex, size difference, reader is a size queen, needy(?)Khonshu, creampie, ngl it's a lot like the dude's a god and like 9 feet tall I refuse to believe every part of his anatomy isn't proportionate to the rest of him, like he has a breeding kink?? God of fertility hellooooooo

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @gingersforeverbox @manque-damour @nikkivenomized

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"Look, kid, no offense but..." The older man replied to you, his thick, bushy eyebrows pinched with concern for your well-being, "It's dangerous out there if you're alone. And compared to a bear, you're a small snack."

You smile at the old man, briefly taking in his far more rugged appearance. He looked every part of a human grizzly bear; large, imposing, muscular. He could probably take an actual grizzly bear in a bare-knuckle fight and come out even. He was an experienced hiker, a man born for the wilderness.

His concern for you was sweet. Compared to him, you were a tiny porcelain teacup; clean, and fragile. Sure you looked that way, but you trusted yourself and your abilities.

You looked small... but you weren't helpless. And you never had to worry in any of your travels.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm covered." You chuckle sweetly, tapping the pendant around your neck. It was a small stone, scribbled with some sort of symbols, a crescent moon featured most prominently.

He squinted his green eyes at the necklace. He obviously couldn't understand what they said, but he understood it was some sort of religious object.

"Look kid, god can only do so much if a brown bear raids your camp in the middle o' the night." He says, clicking his teeth.

"Trust me. I got my bear spray, a good taser, a machete..." You begin listing off your protective items, some of which were bullshit. Most of your items in your pack were food and other important supplies.

He seemed impressed once you were done, stroking his thick beard approvingly. "All right, I s'pose. But since you've checked in here, there's a policy you tune into the lodge's frequency so if anything happens, we can come get ya."

To show how serious you took his advice--even if it wasn't needed--you pulled out your radio. It had about a 30 kilometer radius. An expensive purchase, to be sure, but a nice one. You tune it to the frequency he tells you and look at him as you clip it back to your pack securely.

"Anything else?" You chirp.

"Nope... Just... Be careful. The weather can get kinda crazy further up the mountain." He grunts.

You turn, giving a playful salute as you do, dragging deep into your lungs the air of the mountains after a fresh morning rain.

You weren't afraid for what the night brought. Not at all. But you knew that you've never had to be afraid when the moon rose.

Not when you had faith.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

You'd made good progress, only having to stop and rest a few times throughout the day, free-climbing a few boulders here and there, and to check your map. Your destination was an old burnt-down mansion that was destroyed in a bad storm sometime in the 1920s. So, over a hundred years ago.

Nobody really knew about them or bothered to find them because they were so far off the beaten path, but you marked your trail to find your way back. If you even got lost in the first place.

The first time you found out about this place was a small article written by a backpacker who explored forgotten ruins on YouTube. Yeah, they aren't as exciting as climbing a pyramid down in South America, but to you they were. You adored finding them and exploring them, touching pieces of recent history that were forgotten far quicker than ruins from thousands of years ago.

And when you found them, you tossed your pack down and did a happy little dance; they were amazing! The walls were made of river stone, joined by concrete and held up merely by their own sturdy construction. Some of the walls had fallen due to time, but you could easily make out a few old windows and doorways. Every inch of the ruins was covered in moss, shrubbery, and old and young trees embracing what was left.

You'd even climbed an old stairway you found in the back for fun; it may have led to the worker's lodgings, or.... hell maybe just another entrance to the second floor.

But now, the sun was gone, and you'd set up camp in the middle of the ruins, where a small pond had formed thanks to a depression in the ground. Perhaps the remains of a basement or cellar that had caved in due to the fire and passage of time.

Your fire crackled as you let your water purifier do it's job, your clean water dripping into your canteen with a steady "drip, drip, drip".

You finished off your pre-packaged meal--a nice packet of spaghetti and meatballs with some extra protein powder thrown in--and was now letting it settle, laying on your plush sleeping bag as you stared at the night sky, the moon fat as it hung from the stars; your fingers brushing and caressing the small pendant around your neck.

"I am not surprised to find you in a place like this." A heavy voice echoed off the stone walls.

You sat up on your elbows and lifted your gaze, smiling as you spot him--a large, lithe figure perched casually on the ruins, the light of the moon illuminating the eerie bird skull in place of his head.

"You know how much I love doing this." You remind him.

"Yes, I know." His voice said softly, his body moving in a blur. In a moment, he was standing above you.

You crossed your arms behind your head and grinned up at him. "It's been a month... Having fun with your Moon Guy?"

"My Moon Knight." He corrects, moving to sit next to you, laying his staff down on the remnants of the stone floor, little bits of grass and foliage peeking through the crags.

"Yeah, yeah." You snort, turning to roll on your side to grin at him again, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

"So... Read on the internet about some crazy shit going down in Egypt. And... It felt like you were gone. What happened with that?"

"Ammit and her cult. My Moon Knight and Taweret's Avatar stopped her. My Fist killed her Avatar." He said slowly. "And for meddling with the heavens... The Ennead imprisoned me, briefly."

You sat up fully, shocked by this news. "What? H-how... Why did--"

His fingers brush your lips to silence you, the touch feather light but enough to cease your speaking.

"It is settled, now. Don't worry." He says to you gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his warm palm heating your skin while his thumb brushes your cheek.

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning at him. "Damn you, old man... Don't worry me like that again, or I'll kill you."

"Of course. I wouldn't dare incur your wrath." He chuckled.

"Damn straight you won't." You sigh; his hand moved down your throat to encircle you, flattening on your upper back to pull you against him so you were astride in his lap.

You slowly slide your hands up his bandaged chest, feeling his heat bleed through your skin and warm you to your core. Your fingers toy with the large crescent moon fixed to his chest, brushing his flowing robes off to the sides.

"You are a force of nature," He hums, his other hand sliding down to completely encapsulate your ass and pull you tighter against him.

"One I have come to appreciate far more after my imprisonment."

You chuckle and watch as the strips of linen as soft as a moth's wing fall away into wisps of mist, leaving his almost searing hot skin bare to your touch.

His skin was a lifeless monochrome, ashen color, but it wasn't lacking in life at all, far from it. You could feel his godly heart thump in his chest, feel his muscles twitch as you touched him.

And already, you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you, swelling and twitching as it came to life as well.

It felt like his arousal flooded into you, spreading through your core and riling you up. You could already feel yourself soaking through your underwear, a dark stain soaking through your pants.

Sometimes you wished he could come to you at home; or in a motel room at least, so you can wear something nice for him, some lingerie or...

His fingers brushed your lips once again and he tapped them twice, signaling for you to open.

You obey silently, letting the soft pads of his index and middle finger part your jaws, caressing the muscle of your tongue, your eyes locking with his own eyeless gaze.

A rumble comes from him, and he groans as you roll your hips against his erection, the want and heat almost burning you inside and out.

One of your hands shoves down to undo your belt and unbutton your pants, and Khonshu withdraws his fingers from your mouth and almost dizzingly fast, his hand was shoved into your underwear, toying with your swollen clit.

You moan softly, your own small hands gripping at the gold collar on him for stability as one of his large fingers dips into your tight hole.

He grinds his palm into your clit as his finger curled and pressed against that overly sensitive spot on the walls of your cunt.

"Tight..." Khonshu growled, his other hand rolling your hips in time with his other hand. "You need to relax for me, love."

"T-Trying..." You pant, feeling the cool texture of his smooth dry beak caress against the blazing heat of your cheek.

"Hmmmh." He sighed and retracted his hands from you. "Get undressed. I need you to lie back."

You scramble off of his lap, watching his throbbing length bob eagerly as you peel your clothes off of you, lying back on your sleeping bag, spreading your legs for him to see every inch of you that was ready and waiting for him.

He had been gone for a month, and you knew on some nights, even when he wasn't there with you physically, you knew he would watch as you'd touch yourself to thoughts of him. No mortal man could ever compare to the love and carnal touch of a god, and he always felt a pang of guilt when he had to leave you for whatever duties he had.

But your reunions always ended this way, heat, lust and sheer want for companionship. You had started praying to him when you felt other religions didn't do it for you, finding that you being the wanderer that you were, would find more solace in prayer to a god who protected those like you.

And you certainly didn't expect to catch his eye, let alone capture his heart the way that you had.

His hand rests on your knee, thumb caressing the bones beneath the skin as he leans over you. He couldn't kiss you, but you always made sure that was never a problem, even now, as you tipped your head to place a soft kiss to the smooth side of his beak.

"Fuck--" You groaned, dropping your head back onto your travel pillow when his other hand rediscovered its place against your weeping sex, his thumb rolling small circles over your engorged clit while his other two fingers glide over your entrance; the muscles fluttering in anticipation of what was to come.

You squirm with impatience as each swipe of his fingers only serves to ignite a hotter flame burning low in your loins.

"Khonshu." You breathed.

When you said his name like that, it was always sweeter than any offering or prayer he has received. More uplifting than knowing his works uproots evil to protect the innocent, more delicious than watching Ammit and Harrow die at the end of Jake's gun.

"Just a bit more." He tightly reprimands, his other hand squeezing your knee to remind you to relax.

"You're such a damn tease." You whine, wiping one of your hands down your face, biting your lip and gripping your hair as his fingers inch slowly into your tight, hot hole.

Another deep, rumbling groan comes from him as he feels your body grip him like he was your reason for breathing; dragging, squeezing, pleading for him to just take you already....

But he wouldn't--couldn't--until your body had adjusted enough for this to be pleasurable for you as much as him. He was larger than a human man, and he knew your body was fragile compared to his.

Of course, he always felt smug and prideful when he acknowledged the fact he probably ruined you for any mortal man you may decide to bed one day. Because, honestly, now.

What mortal man can compare to a god in both love and in the bedroom?

You arched your hips up off the ground with a moan, whimpering out his name when his fingers curled upwards. But by bit he could feel your muscles ease up around him, your sweet body becoming slick and welcoming.

Sometimes he would get so mesmerized in how your body reacted just to his fingers that he neglected his cock entirely in focus on you.

He could feel your gummy walls press down on his fingers, fluttering around him as he pumped and curled them inside of you, fingering you open so you could take him fully.

He said your name so softly that it crackled like dry leaves on the wind, and you had to lazily drag your eyes open to look at him, the moon and stars shining above and behind him.

He was beautiful, in his own macabre sort of way...

Oh, if the Ennead knew he was fucking you, you both would probably be in heaps of trouble. But you always figured "bring it on" because you had some choice words for those bastards if you ever had the chance to meet them.

But those were thoughts for later, right now you were focused on your impending orgasm as his fingers scissored inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to that peak so when he pushed inside of you with his cock you wouldn't hurt (or bleed, as that has happened before when the two of you got overzealous).

And of course, right as you were about to cum, your whole body electrified to the point you actually thought you saw sparks in your peripheral vision... Khonshu pulled his fingers free of your wanting body.

You practically sobbed in frustration as your climax was taken from you so abruptly. It was a favorite thing of his to do to you; edging you like he does. But you knew it was for more selfish reasons than anything else.

He leaned over you, bracing his body on his forearms as he gently brushed your head with his beak--his closest approximation of a kiss--and you felt something warm and wet drip onto your belly.

Sparing a glance down, you pant softly as you watch the faintly glowing fluid drip from the tip of his cock; the very tip of it flushed the tiniest shade of pink on his otherwise colorless body. Maybe once upon a time his skin was a different color, but in his exile, it has become so dull.

"Are you ready." He grits out. More a statement than a question, really, as he knew your answer beforehand. But it was important to him that you never had any reservations.

He would not take without first receiving consent from you, without giving.

He was not Set, after all.

"Please." You breathe, reaching out to touch his cock, fingers brushing along the silky soft skin, smearing the precum over the tip with your thumb; earning a delicious groan from him.

He grunts softly, nodding as he lets you guide his weeping cock through your slick folds and to your hole.

It was always breath-stealing, the moment he pushed into you, his thick girth spearing you open and filling you so full you swore he was buried in your guts.

You kept your hand low, feeling him as he slowly slid further inside of you, a hiss coming from him. You were relaxed now, yes... but still so tight because of your comparative sizes that it knocked him off kilter; your heat enveloping him so welcomingly as though he was coming home again.

"K-Khonshu!" You hiccuped, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt him fill you.

Khonshu's leg moves, pushing your thigh and nudging your legs open for him further; the both of you making low breathy sounds as your body squeezed him instinctively at the action.

"I'm... going to move, now." He snarls, reaching down to caress your thigh as he pulls back, your body desperately clinging to him, begging him to stay inside.

Your nails claw at his arms as you grit your teeth, sweat beading your brow as you feel him slide out inch by torturous inch before rolling his hips back into yours, filling you up almost as quickly as he pulled away.

"Oh--oh--" You whine, barely able to speak or form coherent thoughts as Khonshu starts arching his back and rolling his hips at the right angle to make your brain turn to mush.

The first time he had you, you thought you actually died. He had you ride his fingers until you couldn't move, and then he had you pinned, still thrusting his hand inside of you, coaxing and caressing your muscles to allow him entrance.

You did bleed, of course, because of his size. You'd had human bed partners, yes, but none compared to him in any way. You'd probably never be able to look at a human cock again and get as excited as you did when Khonshu teased you.

Oh, how strange it was... Gods often looked down at mortals because of their fallacies, not unlike their own in some ways... But lifetimes ago, the Old Gods of Egypt kept close relationships with their mortal followers. Of course... None had gone so far as to lay with them like Khonshu had done with you.

You'd tried to tease him, the first time you got intimate, that you were his first.

That's when he proved to you that just because you were his first human, didn't mean you were his first bedroom partner.

The way he made love to you was ethereal, almost entirely unreal. It was so good that sometimes you thought you'd dreamt it.

"Khonshu, I'm..." You moan, lifting your hips off of the ground to meet his thrusts as they picked up speed.

Khonshu watched you, his eyeless gaze boring holes into you as he studied your face, as beautiful as the most detailed works of art in human history as you came undone around him, soaking his skin as your body pushes every wave of your climax out.

His pace faltered, and he collapsed back onto his forearms as your legs locked around him, digging into the taut muscles of his glutes as your orgasm nearly knocked him senseless for a moment.

He gripped your sleeping bag tight in one hand as his pace quickened, desperate to taste his own release that threatened to swell up inside of him.

"Almost." He says, his voice wavering.

"Do it." You moan loudly, dragging your nails down his back desperately.

"Hrr--you--" He moaned back, his other hand moving back to grip your thigh so tightly you'd be feeling the bruises for days onward, even in his absence.

"Please."

"You... are... always... so... greedy." He snaps out with each thrust of his hips, the sinful sound of skin slapping skin and your cries filling the ruins.

"Is--Is it really being greedy if you--you want to--want--" Your voice breaks apart as he angles his hips up, his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you as he pumps you full, the sensation of being so utterly stuffed enough to push you into your second orgasm, forcing out globs of his glowing seed around his cock as he fucks you through both your orgasms, riding our your highs together in a blissful, mind-numbing spiral.

You were vaguely aware when he pulled his cock free of your body, barely grasping at the threads of consciousness as he looked down at you, his thumb pressing into your lower belly as he watched his divine seed drip from you.

He half wondered, if maybe you would get pregnant. Wondered what kind of child you would bear. A demi-god, surely, but what kind? In his pantheon, the children of their parents rarely shared the same aspects. Save for some overlapping connectivities, that is...

He could almost see your belly swell, nice and round... And felt something tug deep within his chest, a drive to see if this little thought bubble could burst--to see if his imagination would be a reality and bear fruit.

But, of course... His mind was dragged to the forefront of reality when your shaky little hand caressed the skull that was his head, your eyes drowsy and satiated as you smiled up at him, your god, your protector.

Your lover.

As he laid next to you, he curled your body with his and watched as the last embers of your fire burned away, leaving you only haloed in the soft, silver rays of his moon.

He couldn't believe he ever found you

#moon knight #khonshu moon knight #moon knight khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu #khonshu smut

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toomanythoughts4myhead · 5 months

Text

Where my sorrows went to die

Summary: The prologue to my story: Ballads never end happily and neither do we.(based on my prompt).What if Coriolanus hadn’t managed to kill his lover back in district 12? What if the face haunting his life for the past three years comes back in flesh and bone? Will things be different this time or will he repeat the same mistakes? Giving you the gist of what Coriolanus has been up to since his return in the Capitol and how the story starts.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow (the walking red flag), mentions of death, mentions of grief and pain, the usual egomaniacal inner monologue Corio has (tell me if I missed anything)

Pairings: young!Coriolaus Snow x reader

A/N: Gave this man too much backstory out of nowhere, next chapters will have more action I swear. I just HAD to explain some of what was running through my head as basis of the plot. Hope you enjoy!

[Masterlis] [Next chapter ->]

Word count: 2.8K (around)

The oak trees in the fireplace were burning up, turning black and runny. The pleasant barely heard cracking from burning bark was long gone. The fire was dying, its life extinguished.

It felt familiar.

Coriolanus barely noticed the change in light or temperature, too engrossed in the paperwork that came along with his new working position. It wasn’t the boring cushiony job that he had envisioned back in his academy days, but it was better. The scribbling of pen on paper came to a halt, as the smell of burning wood turned to coals. Coriolanus didn’t much favor the smell of coals, or the cinder they left behind everywhere.

With an almost frustrated squelch of the expensive chair, he had for his study desk, he stood up and called for someone to clean up the fireplace.

He had won his way back to the Capitol, back to wealth and power, back to his true highest form. He didn’t need to breath in the cinder in the air anymore.

He didn’t need to return back to her.

In his upright position he opens one of the windows of his study, the one that overlooks the Capitols center. The cool December air hits him just right, the smell of snow heavy in early morning. The freshness clears his mind and sooths his newfound tenseness which he makes sure to correct as an avox scurries into the room. He doesn’t have to tolerate their filth anymore.

A lot of things have happened in the past 3 years. After his return from duty in district 12, he went on to university and finished his studying under Dr Gaul’s keen eye. Most of his time had truly been spend hauled up in her laboratories, discussing and going over ideas for the games before he was officially made into a part of the game makers. Youngest of them all he had acted on the same manners and sweet-talking he had used for his teachers in the Academy. Old people’s need for respect and admiration made them easy to flatter, it was almost funny.

Back in the days where he had to fear of the upcoming day, he had worked with whatever limited resources he had, running himself dry to hide his families fall from prosperity. Now that he had the Plinths grief-stricken minds, open hearts and fat wallets he could allow his mind to focus solely on whatever web he was spinning this time around. It felt good not to worry for money. Even if it was tarnished by the fact, he had resorted to taking it from districts. But who better take the money of people not belonging in this world than the future president of Panem? It was in everyone’s best interest.

For his 20th birthday the Plinths had bought him his own penthouse. He remembers it well, it wasn’t exactly a surprise, or a well-hidden one at that. Ma Plinth had been looking at him all teary eyed and smitten at the annual Friday dinner he had to sit through, blabbering on and on how he was becoming a fine young man and needed to settle in his own nest, to spread his wings and fly to a new horizon. What was with district people and their birds?

Granma ‘am always looked disdained at best by Mrs. Plinths company, but that night in particular seemed truly to be a new high. Seeing Mrs. Plinth rave about her Corio as if she had been the one who raised him must have rubbed her the wrong way, judging by the poisonous glances. She would never truly be able to stomach knowing that their way of life was supported by lucky district bumpkins, but at her old age she couldn’t complain too much. Her hair was thinning and her eyes were losing their focus, not to mention her aching knees. Thankfully with some of Plinth’s money the elevator was fixed and she could actually go out, rather than sing the hymn all day and water her roses. She was getting older, it always stuck out to Coriolanus, and he always almost immediately focus on the smiling figure of Tigris next to her.

She was able to quit her dead-end job as a seamstress, or more like the cleaner of the cloth shop. She could take life easier, even if her good heart and hardworking soul didn’t let her indulge too much in the luxuries their new life brought along. She never wanted to bother the Plinths, she didn’t like that they were leeching off of them, despite knowing it’s the best thing to do.

She had mentioned it to Coriolanus once, over a glass of some fancy alcohol Strabo Plinth had brought over after the main dinner had ended. The Plinths had returned to the apartment above them and grandma ‘am had retired to her room. With a creased brow and wine-stained lips she had mentioned it didn’t feel right to suck so much money out of the grieving minds of the Plinth’s, that it just didn’t sit right with her to see the poor family crumble so much so that they would turn Coriolanus into their pseudo son and project all their ruined dreams on him. Coriolanus had thrown her a glance over the rim of his glass, expression plane and unbothered, even if faint disdain could be read in his eyes. Not feeling like going in detail over the matter he had simply asked what should they do instead. They continued to drink in silence into the late hours of the night.

Despite this she now worked in a respectable position at Strabo’s Ammunition enterprise. She made a decent paycheck, way better than the scraps she was offered before. The weight of the family’s survival had been lifted off of her frail, still too young shoulders and it seemed that her youth had returned. Coriolanus always knew that their age gap was small, but he also knew how much Tigris had sacrificed: her education, wellbeing, personal life all to provide for him and Granma ‘am. Now her face shone with delight and beauty, lighting every room she entered. She has formed friendships at work, most of which Coriolanus approved, she was even seeing some girl, it made her happy. Coriolanus was glad to see her live the life she was always meant to have, despite everything. She was always the most deserving one, the kindest, the most compassionate, untainted by the same hate that seemed to be rooted in the family line. The one he seemed to be burdened to carry. Some days he envied her, most days he pitied her.

The gifted penthouse was luxurious and spacious, no surprises there. Most of the walls were bare except for a recent portrait the Snows had gotten as a gift from Ma Plinth, actually almost everything was bare, Coriolanus supposed that it was part of the “wing spreading” process for him to design his living space. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor for a few days until his furniture came, brought back some memories certainty, but in the end, he was able to decorate as he pleased rather than deal with the sentimental cluttered nonsense he had witnessed on many occasions at the Plinths. It screamed of people who weren’t used to having money and that’s the last thing Coriolanus needed.

Now he had it all, lavish furniture, a private study, a grand bedroom, personal avoxes to take care of it for him. All colours, items on the walls, tables, shelfs and their clearly expensive prices, it all created the image of the person Coriolanus wanted to be perceived as, all people should know of him. It made him fit in enough with the rich snobs, but shine apart from everyone else with his own personal taste. He would take pride in inviting possible work partners and sponsors for the games over.

Between balancing his position as a game maker, his shares in the Plinth business, he would no doubt inherit in a few years, and his personal relations with family and possible allies, he was spread thin in the best way possible. He was busy building his empire, his legacy, he knew he would achieve what he wanted in the end.

Not because he was blatantly arrogant, not only at least, not because he was charismatic and silver-tongued, not because of how the population of Panem seemed to swoon for the charm and looks he presented himself with. It was all because there wasn’t a price, he wasn’t willing to pay to achieve what he desired. That was the truest form of power, to have the control over your own attachments, the things that rendered everything and anything important. When you have none of that, what will stop you?

He has learned his lesson, he had felt the sting of powerlessness because of his stupidly naive love. Coriolanus Snow will never love again, he would be the one sinking his poison and manipulating this time, pulling the strings of other people’s attachment, but he would never hand over the reins of his heart again.

The angular clean shapes created by the Capitols buildings were smudged by the fast pace of his personal car and the falling snow. Dr Gaul had managed to haul him out of his warm home and call on him to personally visit her.

Coriolanus must admit that he did not miss this side of his new obligations. As he had begun to climb ranks in the social rings Dr Gaul had also stopped breathing down his neck as much, seemingly satisfied by his choices. Back at University when he was basically her apprentice he would have to see and act on her whims every single day. He respects her and her realistic views on humanity and society, but her unpredictability has always made him uncomfortable. He could feel safe knowing he was needed in her future plans but he could never be fully sure what they are exactly. Her mind seemed far too outlandish and out of the box, possibly mad even, for him to decipher and it always put him on edge when he got a call out of the blue.

The car rolls to a stop and his expensive boots leave marks in the snow as he climbs the stairs to the Citadel. The building had always been rather extraordinary and over the top in the way the Capitol seemed to love, so it had faced no renovations or changes in the past years. The same couldn’t be said for most structures in the Capitol. It seems that people have grown tired of seeing all the damage done by the war on the streets and buildings. Especially as the success of the past few hunger games had got the population of the Capitol more hyped, the nationalism seems to have grown.

Most simply enjoyed the games as a really bloody reality TV show at this point, but the older people who still felt the burning hatred for the districts were left satisfied and made big donations, satisfied by the cruel blood baths. Donations were made for rebuilding too, people wanted to drive home how truly better the Capitol was, how its reign would last forever. That was a sentiment Coriolanus was very satisfied to contribute to, he wanted to feel everyday how much better he was than those animals.

The acidic warm air of the labs underground makes him feel a bit better, winters seem to have grown harsher in the past years.

Good.

The staff directly assisting Dr Gaul hadn’t changed much, a few new unimportant faces but most knew him well enough not to even ask what business he had there. He made his way down the narrowing corridors, unbothered by all the abominations that were crying or wailing in their cages. He had seen them too many times to pity them and had watched them rip to shreds a few too many tributes in the newer editions of the games to feel remorse.

He opened the white heavy door to Doctor Gaul’s personal labs and searched for the woman with his gaze. She was waiting for him in her preferred red robes, purposefully stained, it always gave her a sinister aura, especially when she was wearing that unpredictable smile to match. Nothing friendly or even sadistically happy, it was all teeth and that unpredictable glint in her eyes.

She always looked at people like they were her little test subjects, thrilled to find out if they will die or live another day at her hands.

“Snow is falling heavily on Panem this winter, it seems to be overtaking the city by a storm. I am wishing you the same fate Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus really hadn’t missed her little word plays and he had missed even less having to rake his brain for possible answers.

“Dr Gaul you requested to see me for something important, as I understand?” – Coriolanus asks calmly, making sure his impatience to return back home wasn’t too obvious, as he fiddled with the petals of the white rose tucked in his suit pocket.

“Young Mr. Snow you have been doing well, it seems you are putting what you learned back from District 12 to good use. You have realized the way people’s puny brains work and how attachment controls them, your ideas based on this thesis have helped raise the Hunger games to the civilian’s interest. For that I applaud you.”

The click clacking of her heels sounded oddly hollow compared to the deafening silence created in the laboratory.

Where was she going with this?

“But I often wonder if you yourself are able to withstand those powerful emotions within yourself. If you truly have been cured of it as you claim to have been.”

“Doctor Gaul I don’t understand-”

“Then perhaps we should test it to be sure. Follow me, Mr. Snow”

And with that she was walking away and deeper into the secluded laboratories down the hall. Coriolanus had no other choice but to follow her, even as his mind was running lightyears ahead of him.

What did this crazy woman intend to do? Flashes of Clementina’s fate flash before his eyes from all those years back and he knows that Dr Gaul would do whatever she pleases and stop at nothing. If she meant to test his attachment then that would mean she would harm Tigris? Granma’ am?

Flashes of strung up corpses accompanied by screams of birds fly through his mind and almost dull his vision. Thankfully he doesn’t walk head first into the wall at a specific sharp turn. He stands up straighter and slows his step, he is Coriolanus Snow, he is in control.

As he follows the menacing figure of Dr Gaul around a seemingly endless corridor of small rooms, that had a striking resemblance to a medical wing, they came to a gradual stop in front of room 278. No words were exchanged as they wordlessly stepped inside. He realized with a baited breath and fastening heartbeat, that his assumption about the medical wing had been correct. The room consisted of white walls and a simple medical bead that lay in the middle of the floor, currently hidden by drapes. The clinical acidic smell and lack of corpses at first glance made his shoulder untense under his red vest, just a little.

Dr Gaul walked over with the same unshakable calmness she always carried and went to stand next to the bed, just inches from the curtains, signaling for Coriolanus to come and open them. She observed him unblinkingly, the spark of interest never wavering.

If something gained such a strong response from doctor Gaul, Coriolanus was ready to sign his loved ones’ obituaries.

His heart was beating out of his chest and he hoped his breathing hadn’t intensified, as his hand took a hold of the rough material. He knew that he wasn’t visually showing anything, years of play pretend and weaving lies had made him an amazing subconscious actor, but he also knew that nothing escaped Dr Gaul’s gaze.

He pulled back the curtains with a sharp tug and for a few moments he didn’t know how to respond.

He felt almost naïve relief as he witnessed sprawled out body, so foreign from his family’s. And then it all came back cascading onto him as his mind cleared and he looked past the stress induced haze.

The image he had been seeing every night, the ghost haunting everything beautiful, the job he never finished properly.

It was you.

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gutzfreak · 6 months

Note

Can you do jack x fem reader smut? But can it be about jack pulling over Y/N then maybe to get out of a ticket they have sex?👀 maybe in the back of his cop car or on top of the hood??

I like that idea a lot so yes Also the reader is pretty punky/gothy if you dont mind, it wont be mentioned to much I just feel like jack would have a thing for gothy people :p

CW: car sex, oral sex, slight rough stuff(?)

______________________________________________________________

You were speeding. Not in a major part of the road, just throughout the small parts of town. Though, still speeding. Your breath hitched and you felt like your whole mind shot off when you heard sirens behind you and started seeing those red and blue lights.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself. You pull over, taking a deep breath and putting on the best smile. You pray that it's just gonna be a small fine other than something you cant financially handle. A cop walked up, knocking on your window. You roll down the window and look up at him. "Damn..." You say in your head. He looked down at you, causing you to blush just a little. Maybe you can flirt your way out of this one? And with that sexy cop you'd be more than happy to. "Ma'am, are you aware that you were speeding?" The cop said. You smile. "Sorry, my mind wasn't all there. I wasn't thinking." You choke out. You hope that lie would be able to convince him. He sighed, pulling out a ticket. He scribbled something down on it, before handing it back to you. Your eyes widen. "Almost $300!? I can't afford this!" You exclaim. You were employed in a shitty job that didn't pay well at all, so every scrap of money you spent was a huge loss. And you really, really couldn't afford this. The cop saw your panicked expression and softened up a bit.

"is there....anything I can do to not pay this?" You mumble. You get an idea though. The cop seemed sweeter and softer, towards you at least. You lean a bit to see him better. He was a really good looking guy. Nice body, kept and clean black hair, cute face, just good looking in general. You were some person working minimum wage and all you wore was the baggiest, most ripped and sloppy clothing which people often asked you "isn't that for boys?". You never cared. Right now you don't. You just need to get out of this ticket somehow.

"So, officer, is there anything lil ol' me can do to not pay this ticket?" You bat your eyes innocently, hoping to woo him somehow. The officer blushes and rubs the back of his neck.

"Well there is....one thing." He smiles nervously.

....

Before you knew it you were in the back of his cop car, your arms snaked around his neck and him hovering over you as you two made out. You were expecting this, but at the same time no you weren't. You thought he'd ask for like, an apology or just a kiss or something. Not being pulled into a full on make out. He pulled back, staring into your eyes for a second before moving to your neck, planting sloppy kisses, bites, and licks all over it. You let a few noises escape your mouth.

"Hey." You bat the back of his head, causing him to look up. "Whats your name, anyways?" You chuckle.

"Jack. Deputy Jack. You?" He said shyly. "Im Y/N." You say. He smiles. "Thats a pretty name." He says, pecking your lips and moving back to mark and love your neck. You giggle and run your hands through the back of his hair, letting out sighs of pleasure as he attYoacked your neck. His hands move up and down your body, seemingly unsure where to rest. They finally made their way up your shirt, his cold skin on yours. You shiver. After a minute he finally leaves your neck alone and his fingers trail to the waistband of your pants. He looks at you for consent to take them off. You nod. "Go ahead, Jack." You mumble. He pulls off your pants, leaving you in black underwear. He hooks a finger in those too, slowly pulling them down. You buried your face in your elbow, embarrassed. He chuckled at you and kissed your cheek.

"Your ok with this, right? You really don't wanna pay that ticket?" He smirked. "Yeah, I'm fine. Please..." You huff out. He nods and starts rubbing your soaked clit with his thumb. Your back arches slightly and so do your legs, as small whimpers escaped your mouth. He saw it as a good sign. He kept rubbing your clit and inserted a finger in you.

"Ngh......shit....." You moan. He lifts one of your legs, biting his lip. He adjusted himself and leaned down, his face now at the level of your heat. He leaned forward and started eating you out. "Jack!" You moan. Your head fell back as you stared at the ceiling of the cop car. You felt dizzy. Having sex with a stranger cop just to get out of having to pay a ticket. You felt like a slut. But god, it felt good. You needed this. You continue letting every noise escape your mouth, your hands entangled in his hair. A couple more licks and sucks on your clit and he couldn't handle it anymore, he needed you. Now. He shuffled to unzip his pants and get them off. He finally kicked them off along with his boxers, positioning himself. He was very, very eager and you could tell. He bumped his shaft against your clit a few times. "Are you ready, Y/N?" He asked. You nod, and shift to be in a more comfortable position.

He slowly slides in, his breath hitching as your walls stretched to accommodate his length. He doesn't wait for a que, whenever you stop shifting he moves slowly. But he quickly picks up the pace to pounding into you. "Fuck~! Jack!!!" You moan, your head leaning all the way back now. Your legs were spread all the way for him and he held them up, to make it easier for both of you. In no time he was mercilessly pounding into you, slapping noises and small moans were the only thing heard in the car. He was groaning and staring at you. You were staring at the ceiling again. You were seeing static, everything felt not real. A cop was destroying your insides just so you didn't have to pay a ticket. But you were there for it. You felt him go faster and harder and started borderline screaming his name, his face now in the crook of your neck. He planted more soft kisses and bites, marking you as his. "Im getting close, Y/N. Do you...want me to pull out?" He mumbles. You shake your head. "No! No, please don't...." You moan. He nods. A couple more sloppy thrusts and he explodes inside you, moaning loudly along with you. You laid there, a mess. Covered in sweat, hickies, and now cum. You felt gross but so, so good. Jack blushes at the sight. "U-uh......you alright? At least you don't have to pay that ticket, huh?" He chuckles nervously, hoping you find it funny. You giggle. "Yeah.." You say. You get an idea and grab a notebook from the front seat along with a pen. "Uh...here, officer." You hand him the paper and scramble to put your panties and pants back on. He sees you dressed and nods, signifying you can go now.

You made it back to your car and regained composure, the only thing in your head was what just happened. Jack, in his car, looked at the slip of paper you gave him. He chuckled and blushed even more. It was your number.

You started your car, driving off. Jack watched and sighed, but it was a sigh of admiration. He started his car and drove off as well.

______________________________________________________________

This ones a bit shorter sorry!! But I hope you enjoy nonetheless :)

#spooky month x reader #spooky month x reader smut #spooky month jack x reader smut #spooky month jack #spooky month #x reader #x reader smut

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euijoosorangeslice · 5 months

Text

Turned into the Mafias Maid

(part three)

warnings: peer pressure, slight non-con, exhibitionism grinding, uses the word mommy like once, motorboating, breast sucking

“It’s easy, honestly. You clean up our messes, help us on occasion and abide by our every word and you’ll make about….a thousand a day? All you have to do is sign this NDA, and we’ll be good to go.” Kei spoke lightly, sliding a piece of paper onto the he desk in front of you.”

You thoroughly read the paper, gasping out loud. “Wait, you guys like kill people?!” You shouted, Nicholas rolling his eyes. “Well of cou-“ Yuma spoke out of turn, Kei putting his hand over him mouth. “We can only tell you if you sign. Then you’ll get to know our whole team.” You sat there in silence. “I’m not signing this.” You grumbled, Kei pulling a small revolver from his pocket and pointing it at your head.

“Well, then again there is another option. You could just take a bullet between your eyes.” Swiftly, you grabbed the pen and started scribbling a shaky handed signature. Kei smirked, pulling the paper away from you. “Good girl. We’re gonna mostly need help with the…younger group. They have more trouble per se, cleaning up their messes? Especially Taki. He tends to get lost in the whole murder thing.”

He pulls out a whiteboard, with photos and a lot of scribbles. “Each of our crew members, I thought I might introduce you. First is me. Second most independent, after Fuma. He’s the sexy one with the big muscles.” Your brain immediately recognized who he was, thinking back to when he was watching you while you were giving Harua a hand job. “Then there’s Euijoo and Nicholas, and they practically come in a pair. They take care of each other, but when one is down the other is too.”

“Next is Jo and Yuma. Jo is more…cold. Think he’s a sociopath but we obviously don’t judge here. Yuma is quite energetic, he’s usually our arsenal. Then there’s Harua and Taki. Both are very…unique. You’ll get to know them. For now, just focus up on housework.” Kei left the room, you taking a deep breath. Honestly, you don’t have the energy to get upset.

—

There you were in the busy kitchen, cleaning up the counters as you heard the boys playing video games in the living room across from you. You rolled your eyes, hearing them loudly exclaim over losing the game.

“Hey Harua! If I win, you have to touch the new maids tits tonight .” Nicholas whispered into Haruas ear, making him go red. “Uh, why is it always me?” He whined, Yuma poking his cheek. “Because, you’re just so innocent! I mean, we all know that getting off is the best way to relieve stress. You’re like, the only one who doesn’t jerk off out of…seven of us.” Yuma punched Haruas arm, Taki ruffling his hair. “Plus, you’re just so…submissive? I don’t know, maybe you like to be dominated by women. I mean, no shame!”

Harua ignored Taki, grabbing onto the controller and focusing on the game. Meanwhile, you turned around as the oven beeped. These boys are so high maintenance, you thought to yourself, taking an entire tray of pizza rolls out of the oven. “Boys, your snacks are ready!” You shouted over their loudness, most of them hopping up from their spots. For some odd reason, Harua was slowly inching towards you. You ignored it though, watching as the boys ferociously grabbed the rolls off the tray and went back to their spots. “You better do it, Harua.” Taki whispers, pushing the other toward you.

When all the boys went back to their rooms, you noticed that Harua was still standing next to you. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?” You softly spoke, Haruas face burning red. “I-I uhm. I’m sorry!” He whisper yelled, placing his hands onto your chests. He gave them a soft squeeze, mesmerized by their movement. “Ms.Y/n, I just really like your boobs. Do you think…maybe I could see them?” Harua genuinely looked as if he’d never seen a girls tits before, so you decided to help him out.

“Fine. But just this once, alright?” You replied, Harua smiling slightly. “Got it!” You unbuttoned your top, Harua watching in awe as they bounced in front of his face. "Wow. Th-they look so nice. And big. Please let me touch, Y/n." Harua was zeroed in on your chest, so you decided to let him have his way. "Alright. But hurry up, I need to clean the dishes soon." Harua nodded, pushing you softly against the counter and placing his face in between your breasts. He whimpered, slightly grabbing your hip as he pressed his pelvis into your thigh.

"Harua, you are honestly shameless. Are you seriously getting off on my thigh right now?" You complained, Harua moving his head left to right and moaning as he pushed further into your thigh. "Sorry. Just f-feels so good, y/n. P-please let me taste them." He begged, grabbing both of your breasts and pressing his tongue against them. "Harua- what the hell! I didn't even say yes yet!" He ignored you, softly suckling on your nipples and you had to admit that it felt good. It wasn't good enough for you to cum though, so you let him have his fun before you pushed him away.

"Harua, I need to start on the dishes." You reasoned, Harua whining. "No! I haven't came yet, please let me finish mommy." Your eyes went wide, completely pushing him away and buttoning up your shirt. "Did you just fucking call me 'mommy'?" You questioned, Harua blushing violently. You could see his erection through his sweats, and the precum soaking the front of his pants. "Sorry. I-It just slipped out! P-please Y/n please forgive me."

You loudly groaned, running your fingers through your hair. "It's fine, I forgive you." Harua looked up expectantly, staring at your tits through the top. "But uhm...I still need to cum." You rolled your eyes, pushing Harua against the fridge and reaching down his pants. He moaned, gripping the counter closest to him. Suddenly, a door opened down the hall. Nicholas emerged from the hallway, a piece of paper in his hand. "You know, your job isnt all just shits and giggles. We have a mission tomorrow, and we're gonna need you on site." Harua had a hand over his mouth, eyes shut tightly. "Got it." You replied.

"its at ten p.m. tomorrow. Just gonna put that paper here." You smiled at him softly, speeding up your pace with Harua. "Thank you, Nicholas." He gave you a thumbs up, going back to his room and shutting the door. Harua removed his hand, letting out a string of moans. "O-oh fuck! Please please please~" He repeated, clenching his thighs together. Finally, you felt his body tense and release, and you kept stroking him until he finished releasing onto your hand. "Definitely not doing this with you again." You mumbled under your breath, wiping off your hands.

"Sorry." He quickly whispered, rushing into the bathroom.

You picked up the paper, studying the contents. "Assassination of the Nishimura Estate. Target: Mr. Nishimura. Hostage: Riki Nishimura. Ransom: 650,000. This should be interesting.

prev//next

#&team imagines #&team #&team x reader #&team smut #&team hard hours #&team harua

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moral-terpitude · 1 year

Text

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed - 4

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

It wasn’t until around 11:30 that morning that your office door opened.

While disappointed, you were also relieved that it wasn’t Tommy. You weren’t in the mood for him yet.

It always seemed when things would go good for a few weeks that something would get all fucked up again and last night was no exception. (Or was it this morning? Technically? Who knew what to call it.)

Two hours of sleep in the night hadn’t been enough and there wasn’t much that was going to soften your mood now.

Lynnae was up your ass for all the paperwork she needed. You’d have to go get it out of storage at some point today. You knew right where it was, but not where it was in the unit.

There had been a request to audit three years worth of information for three different business, one for The Garrison, one for the betting shop, and one for the storage units themselves.

The link unfortunately being that they were all cash heavy businesses and you knew the implication: all of them were oh so easy to funnel money through.

Of course they were. You’d come up with the way to make it work, and all the paperwork to make it untraceable was airtight, with two of the businesses technically showing a loss for last year.

“Did he send you to do recon on my mood or are you bringing me paperwork?”

You didn’t look up as Lizzie sat in the spare rolling chair, crossing her legs. Frances must have let her know where you were.

How come no one ever knocked before coming into your office?

“Would you be mad if it was both?”

You sighed, leaning back in the leather chair, pulling your legs up in front of you.

“I need the acquisition information the most urgently.”

She huffed, tossing the folder onto your desk.

“Thank you.”

“How are the drunkards?” She chuckled, but you weren’t close to finding humor in it yet, just content that Finn would be suffering a hell of a hangover well into tomorrow.

“Ugh, don’t even start with me.” You sniffled, laying your glasses down on the desk, “I’ve been in here since 4 this morning and haven’t seen anyone so, I’m not sure.”

“Finn must have left. I heard him get a good reaming over the phone this morning. Pretty sure Tommy ended it with telling him to get the fuck out of his house.”

“Good. He deserves it. I’m going to have to go pull his weight today anyway. I’ve a whole list of storage units that he needed to clean out last week.”

You sat the cigarette down in the ash tray, reaching for the now cold cup of coffee.

“Digbeth, Sparkhill, Bordsley Green,” you flipped the paper, reading the rest of your scribble off the end of the list, “Hackney, Shoreditch, West End.”

“Tell Tommy he isn’t pulling his weight.”

“As long as it gets done Tommy doesn’t care at this point. Him and Pol have been going back and forth for months now on where to put him.”

There was silence for awhile as you continued to finish the email you started.

“How’s Aunt Em?”

Lizzie shook her head, giving her eyes a roll. Shifting the focus to different family matters wasn’t the best idea, but better your chaos than the Shelby chaos, if only for a bit.

“They said the early onset dementia will start triggering other issues any day now. I just wish the two of them could have patched things up before. Her memory is already going to shit.” Her nose crinkled as she spoke, reaching for your cigarettes and lighter.

You let out the exasperated sigh before you could hold it back, pinching the bridge of your nose before leaning back in the chair once again, “I tried talking to mom, when you first told me, but they’re all stubborn as shit. The whole lot of them.”

“It’s a wonder where we get it from.” She hummed.

A knock at the door and mumbled words thankfully dissolved the conversation before it continued into even more awkward small talk.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“That’s my queue,” Lizzie whispered, leaning over to give your arm a pat. She opened the door, giving Charlie’s hair a ruffle, “Just leaving. She’s all yours.”

Charlie sighed, taking her seat and rolling close enough to rest his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

The words shattered your heart into a million pieces. They must have been bickering enough last night that he didn’t hear Finn’s outburst.

You ruffled his hair, pressing your cheek to the top of his head.

“Charlie, you just need to be more aware. We just want you to be safe. I had no clue where you were. I much rather would have came and got you than have Uncle Finn drive you here just as sloshed.”

He snorted, righting himself with a half smile on his face. “You could have been dead in a ditch.” He mimicked Tommy, wagging his finger as he spoke.

You smiled before shaking your head, trying not to laugh, “Stop. It’s not funny. I know we’ve had this conversation before, but yelling clearly doesn’t work with your family.”

“If it’s any consolation,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blonde fringe flopping around on his forehead, “I feel like a bin on fire in the middle of July.”

“Good.” You nodded, “As you should. You still smell like the distillery, too. Now, that’s all I have to say about it until we talk to your dad.”

He groaned, “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” You patted his shoulder, before putting your glasses back on, “Now, I need some help today. It’d probably be in your best interest, help win him over a bit, if you come help me.”

“Okay,” he shrugged, slowly rising from the chair, “I’ll go get changed.”

He closed the door to the office as he exited, and you were thankful for the return to silence.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #modern thomas shelby #modern day au #modern!tommy shelby

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devilfic · 2 years

Note

FIRST OF ALL

I luv your writing omg

Now second, if you want-tho

Concept were Bruce makes a playlist for his partner

LIKE-

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship. words: 983.

a/n: you are so galaxy brained for this one. I'll also be writing these concepts more like headcanons/blurbs just because it's a bit easier to do (and way more fun ngl)

also! I've plugged this playlist before on clean slate but I just have to plug it again because OP captures what I imagine bruce's taste is PERFECTLY with the grunge and nu metal

now, battinson's bruce definitely doesn't set out with the intention to make you a playlist... at first

bruce is one of those people that has to have music on while they work so he'll be fixing up the batmobile or working out when a song comes on shuffle and he just. starts thinking about you. whether the lyrics express his feelings or he just thinks you'd like the sound, he'll quietly make a note about it and the list just naturally grows on its own

I think bruce is into alt rock and metal—branching into the subgenres a bit as he's feeling out his taste—so expect a lot of music of that vein

(I do like the idea that bruce has also retained some of his parents' music taste which consists of oldies from the 50's and 60's ;-;; he has a lot of respect for jazz and swing and the occasional sappy love song)

for some reason I can't see bruce making you a digital playlist, like I really see him putting in the effort to make you a cd LMAO and he'll scribble on the face of it something like "for you" or "songs you might like" or something unintentionally cheesy so that you can pop it into your car stereo and listen to it in surround sound. he will try to make you something more portable at your behest BUT he insists you have something physical too. not to be soft but he's really adamant about you getting to hold the physical and audial amalgamation of his feelings for you

he is sooooooooo eager to hear your thoughts on the songs too!! I know I said bruce doesn't really set out to make you a playlist but I swear on bruce's electric guitar that that man spends hours combing over every lyric, every singer, and the order of the songs to make sure that it's flawless before he even THINKS about presenting it to you. and you know this loser will still try to be cool about it like leaving it in your vicinity and telling you to check it out whenever you get a chance

there are very few things I think bruce is readily prepped to info dump about but of those few things, cars and music are by far at the top of the list. you'll ask him about one of the songs he put on the playlist and he'll give you the drummer's entire life story just to explain the breakdown during one (1) part of the song

(something something sharing an experience intimately with the one you love something something carrying an arrangement of sounds and words and feelings around with you forever that reach back as far as one moment in one band member's life that resulted in one verse that now perfectly encompasses the love you feel-)

he really does try not to be too bothered if you don't end up liking it but like I said, dude's agonized over every possible aspect of this playlist and even if he doesn't want to show it, he ABSOLUTELY wants you to like it..... he'll very obviously watch you like a hawk when you come to give him your thoughts on it, hanging onto every word

if you like it he is OVER the moon about it. he'll get to work right away on a new one (though he won't tell you) and try to aim for a different vibe so that you have playlists for every mood like he does

(you cannot tell me bruce doesn't have playlists for every mood. he 100% has one just to get him pumped to leave the house for patrol lmao)

he appreciates if you're honest about not liking it too! while music is something very dear to him, there are so many other things that you two can share. it doesn't have to end there. he'll also probably try to make you a playlist of music you gravitate toward more, even if it's out of his comfort zone

if he knows you're lying about liking it he will be crushed. please don't lie abt ur feelings, you can tell him the truth and he'll find a rooftop and cry on it handle it like the adult he is

jk jk but no seriously, if you don't end up liking his song choices or maybe you both just don't share the same music taste at all, it's ok!!! bruce strikes me as the kind of guy who sticks very strictly to his favorite genre and isn't super comfortable branching out but music is a window into his soul, so why can't it also be a window into yours?

he will 100% ask you about your favorite artists and add their music to his usual rotation until he GETS comfortable with it (esp if you're hanging out with him in the batcave. he will hear you get excited and start singing along and laugh under his breath ;-; he might even sing along with you, but you didn't hear that from me)

we also know that bruce has a fucking electric GUITAR and he probably only plays it in his downtime when no one is around, but if you ask him to play for you, he'll... consider it

I headcanon that he wasn't trained in guitar, he just sort of played by ear for years and taught himself until he got decent at it, so he does worry that you won't be impressed by it. but whether you know how to play yourself or not, he would really appreciate any encouragement on your end and probably play for you more unprompted after the fact

(and maybe one day he might write you a song of your own...?)

(there's a box under his bed of failed songwriting attempts from when he was a teenager that will never see the light of day)

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman headcanons #the batman #battinson x reader #mjwrites #anonymous #mjanswers

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moth-yknowtheartist · 1 year

Note

Moth, please teach me how to draw the Substitute (do not ask why.)

ok some of this doubles as a professor tutorial but here you go. Let's go on a drawing journey

so first we've gotta get this guy's structure his shapes. For clarity I've color coded the different shapes! Let them overlap and get messy let them get WILD

ok now that we've got the shapes and we cleaned up our lineart a bit let's add some defining features. Lots of this is just scribbling around until it works you can do whatever you want!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!

ok nice he's shaping up now. Let's define those features a bit more you know how we love definition

also since it's the substitute let's just scribble in some brows that are nice and evil. I cannot convey to you more how much an eyebrow is just a scribble. It is like infinite monkeys on typewriters if you squiggle enough you will get eyebrow

ok cool nice and defined now we give him fur!! Triangles everywhere just all over the place go wild. Now he is fuzzy!!!

Also this is a good time to fix your mistakes like how I put his face too high LMAO let's bring that down

Ok wow that's a guy that's a dude!!!

Now let's start coloring him, throw a layer under the one you've been drawing on and get ready to go

I do not use a bucket tool I just scribble it all in. It doesn't have to be perfect it's fun it's fun time!!! The colors I use are on the side. If we were drawing the professor my colors are slightly different to convey the difference in puppets

ok let's make him glitchy cause he's a hologram!!! Rectangle tool is your friend. Rectangle tool set to fill with current color is DOUBLE your friend. Go to your lineart layer or a layer above your lineart layer and get ready to rectangle

Set your pen size to really really low for crisper edges, color pick the colors on the different parts of his body, and just start throwing rectangles on there along the side of his body

let's go look at that that's our guy!!! That's the twisted little dude!!! Congrations!!!

hope this helps with your schemes!!!

#puppet history #the substitute

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scarletwritesshit · 1 year

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Kaveh x Reader ✦ Oh my God! Roommates! ✦ I: Padisarah

For as laid-back as he seemed, Kaveh's room wasn't a complete disaster area.

It was well kept, with the exception of his work desk. Papers were stacked on the desk and to the side in piles of varying sizes. Books were hidden amongst the piles of paper, and quills stained with ink were left all around the only relatively clear space on his desk; the sheet of paper that appeared to be a draft of his current project.

It was a stark contrast to the tidy, professional area that Alhaitham was having you study in. Alas, genius comes in many forms, some more disorganized than others.

You sat at the edge of his bed on the right side. Observing the size of the mattress, you confirmed that it was indeed large enough for two people to share, comfortably, without intruding on each other’s personal space.

"So," Kaveh said, gently flopping his body onto the far-left side of the bed, "comfortable enough for you?"

"It should be fine," you said, "but I am curious as to how the entirety of your room is well kept with the exception of your desk. Don't you need it clean to focus?"

"The cultivation of ideas and the beauty of its chaos is part of the design process, something a certain scribe refuses to understand. His stuck-up ass doesn't appreciate the amount of convoluted thought that unites to form a singular grand masterpiece!"

The differences between the two were starting to become as clear as day.

"Oh, well, to each their own," you said. "I guess I have my own reasons for not being able to judge."

"Someone gets it. For being one of Sumeru's so-called brightest scholars, there are some things that just can’t seem to make it through his head."

"Alhaitham seems a little...too logical," you pointed out.

"Exactly! He fails to take into account the uniqueness of us as individuals. If there isn't a fundamental explanation for something, then he doesn't want to consider it."

"Either that, or he's sick and tired of you being a freeloader."

"That-hey! He's letting you stay here without complaints so far, but once you really get to know him, he's an absolute pain in the ass!"

Kaveh slid out of his bed and walked to his desk, which was only a few feet from the headboard. He pulled out his chair and moved a loose paper filled notebook that was on it to a clear space on the floor beside him.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to work on these design sketches and contribute something with a personality to Sumeru, unlike a certain someone."

It seems as if even the slightest implication of Alhaitham in a conversation causes Kaveh to become all fired up. In fact, it would appear that he chose work over sleep out of spite. He seemed committed to his craft regardless, but you still can’t help but think that Alhaitham’s apparently problematic existence was driving him to sacrifice rest.

You checked the watch that was on your left arm. Its bronze little arms pointed towards the time being 00:08. It was a lot later than you would've liked it to be, but you've spent your day being familiarized with your new surroundings and setting up your area for study. It was only inevitable that you would lose track of time into the late hours of the night.

While Kaveh was preoccupied with dripping and scribbling ink all over his sheet of papyrus paper, you slid off of the bed and sat on the floor, out of his view. Then, you slid your clothes off and changed into your nightwear. Kaveh didn't strike you as the type to peek, but it was far too early to be so trusting with each other.

You peeked over the bed and looked at him still intensely focused on his project. It's possible he lost track of time himself, and wasn't aware of how late it has become.

"Kaveh?" you gently called out from behind the bed. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

He directed his focus away from the paper and looked at you with a sheepish expression.

"Oh, I'm going to stay up a while longer. It'll give you more time to have the bed to yourself," he said. Without awaiting a reply, Kaveh once again turned to the artistic project that was consuming his mind.

He seemed rather insistent on continuing his work, so you decided to leave him be. Without waiting for him, you crawled into your side of the bed, practically hanging off of the edge to give Kaveh as much room as possible. There was plenty of room on the bed even if you didn't slide close to the edge, but the more space between you two, the better. Eventually, you wiggled closer into the bed so that it at least felt like you weren't going to roll off. As comfortable as it was, you were still unable to fall asleep, staying awake well into the wee hours of the night. Kaveh didn’t seem any closer to sleeping himself, as was still working every time you rolled over to watch him diligently ink away. The light from his lamp probably didn't help your struggle to sleep, but the way he was fixated on his work intrigued you.

It was almost mesmerizing, the way he glared at the paper, calculating every minute detail that factored into an architectural wonder. The light reflected off of his marvelous blonde hair, as if he was crafted as fine as a golden desert amulet. He would occasionally flick the feather against his chin, lost in thought, then he would go back to scribbling.

He seemed to know where each and every specific paper of his was located amongst the chaos, as he would simply measure out partial stacks and set them aside until he found what he was looking for. You assumed that they were past projects or general notes to aid in the design process, but you didn't want to let your curiosity infringe on his thinking.

Plus, you were supposed to be asleep anyways.

But that man was just too damn captivating.

You rolled over to the other side once again, your back now facing him. You'd never sleep as long as your eyes were peeled open like that, watching some...decently attractive man intensely focused on his work.

Did he always put this much effort into his craft, or was it just a one-time thing? With how Alhaitham spoke of him, he seemed to spend his days enjoying a free room and food, but his desk was filled to the brim with sketches, calculations, and so on. There was no way all of it was compiled within a few nights. It's possible the aggravation of not having his house to himself has caused Alhaitham to misjudge Kaveh altogether.

Though you haven't even known each other for a day. What gives you the right to jump to such conclusions?

Your mind began to wander as you lost enough focus in your surroundings to be able to fall asleep. It wasn't exactly a deep sleep, though, as you could still feel the bed shift when Kaveh finally decided to call it a night.

Thankfully, he held true to his word and kept to his side of the bed. The last thing you wanted to deal with was waking up with a face full of man on your first day of instruction.

When morning came, your body felt sluggish, as if you hadn't rested at all. This was partially true, as you had struggled to fall asleep throughout a significant portion of the night.

You glanced at the other side of the bed, eyes still half closed, to see Kaveh practically hanging off of the edge. He was the one who said there was plenty of room, but why was he practically falling

off? Was Alhaitham's threat of eviction so bad that it pushed him to the brink of cowering as far away from you as possible?

You sat up and rubbed your eyes to get a better look at him. He seemed to be resting peacefully, as if he was in a state of deep sleep. Maybe you were overthinking things

You slid out of bed carefully in order to not disturb the sleeping man. Being as quiet as you possibly could, you went through your normal morning routine to ready yourself for your first day of Alhaitham's teaching.

After leaving Kaveh's room, you made your way to the well-organized desk to being your lessons, but Alhaitham called out your name, stopping you in your tracks. You turned around to see him sitting at a table with a breakfast prepared. He motioned his head for you to come join him, rather than sit down at the desk.

The table had enough food for three people, presumably you, him, and Kaveh. Once you sat down, the only remaining empty seat was the one directly across from you. It was tempting enough to snatch the unclaimed breakfast for yourself. An absolute waste of a warm meal it would be if no one showed up to eat it. These thoughts lingered in your mind as you stared down the empty seat in front of you.

"Let me guess" Alhaitham said, directing your eyes to him, "he's still asleep, isn't he?"

"Out cold," you replied.

"Of course he is. It’s too much effort to wake him up every morning, so he once again gets to live with his cold breakfast."

"He was up late working on a project when I was asleep, though. It only makes sense that he wouldn't wake up until later."

"Working? I highly doubt it. One could argue that he merely stays up to indulge in his personal hobbies without me to scold him for slacking off."

You thought back to the sight of Kaveh working from last night. From what you could tell, he was genuinely hard at work. The lack of physical evidence would be unable to convince Alhaitham otherwise, so you decided to let that battle go.

"I was half asleep anyways, so I guess I wouldn't have known what he was really up to."

Alhaitham's glare became more intense for a brief moment, before he looked away and instead focused on eating the meal in front of him.

"So uh...anyways, why do you hate Kaveh so much?"

His eye twitched as he finished the bite of food in his mouth.

"I offered a place for my senior to stay, under the assumption that he would live up to his title of respected architect. Unfortunately, he has done nothing to get back on his feet, so he’s been here leeching off of me ever since."

"Is that really all? You two seem to argue over more than rent."

"That is nowhere near everything. His studies frequently clash with mine due to the fact that he misses the complete point of studying."

You cocked your head in confusion.

"As in, that man never considers facts, and only the facts. Research is built upon the solid foundation of the one-sided truth. Kaveh doesn't think with his brain."

He thinks with his heart too, you thought.

"I don't know how none of his buildings have collapsed yet, seeing as how human romance isn't a solid foundation for a structure."

Alhaitham was getting more and more irritated by the minute. Perhaps you shouldn't have inquired him about Kaveh, as discussion alone was enough to get him worked up. That should've been obvious from your conversation on the way to his place anyways.

Well, that’s one thing both scholars had in common; they cannot stand each other.

"I see," you said, taking a bite of your food in hopes that Alhaitham would drop the subject.

Unfortunately, the topic of Kaveh wasn't going to be relieved any time soon, as the nuisance himself took the seat across from you at the table.

At that very moment, it looked like Alhaitham just had his entire day spoiled.

"Speaking of useless scholars, it’s the dead weight himself."

"And a good morning to you too," Kaveh said.

"I see you have finally accepted that you're no use?"

"What was that about remaining respectful in front of our guest again?"

"It was but a simple comment made with uttermost honesty. If you woke up so early just to ruin my morning, then I would suggest you take yourself elsewhere."

After Alhaitham's one sided remarks about Kaveh earlier, you wanted to keep Kaveh back to hear his thoughts on the matter. Before he could excuse himself, you reached over and gently grabbed his sleeve, stopping him.

"Alhaitham, how am I supposed to familiarize myself with him if you're going to shoo him away every time he is in my presence?"

He looked at you, confused.

"You wish to personally know this man?"

"Well, we are sharing a room together. It would only make sense to understand who I'm dealing with,” you said, letting go of his sleeve.

Alhaitham didn't seem to get it. Or perhaps he refused to. He simply took his meal off of the table and moved elsewhere, perhaps to his area of study to eat.

"I don't have the patience this early in the morning. Kaveh, don't keep them for too long or else I will have a few words in store for you."

"And I can count on them not being very nice," Kaveh said, lightheartedly.

He rested his arms on the table and turned to look at you with a wink.

"Now then, why don't you properly introduce yourself to me?"

#genshin impact #genshin impact kaveh #genshin impact fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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fawnnbinary · 2 years

Text

It's All About the Metaphors

642 words, Rasmus meets a bard and learns about poetry :)

Papers littered the grass. Some had words beautifully scrawled across in looping script, some were littered with frustrated scribbles - and the rest were perfectly blank. They were just waiting to be filled with songs, with poetry - with the occasional mindless doodle.

That had been the plan before the wind had scattered them anyway.

Harper dashed about, cursing under his breath as he tried to pick up all his writings before they blew away. He couldn’t just lose all the work he’d done, this was weeks of work!

The bard was far too focused to notice the quiet steps of a young witcher, especially a Cat. Rasmus snuck up close, carefully picking up one of the pages and looking it over. Well none of this made any sense - wolves and birds didn’t talk to each other, he would have heard them.

“Hey, you missed one!”

Harper swiveled around immediately, papers hugged tightly to his chest - but it was just a child. He sighed in relief. “Scared me there, boy,” he chuckled. “Thank you, I wouldn’t want to lose any of them.”

Rasmus handed over the page, snickering a bit. “It’s all kind of nonsense there,” he teased, “are you crazy or something?”

“Crazy? Perhaps,” Harper replied, organizing the pages, “but I think that’s all right. Helps with the creative process.”

“If you say so.” The young witcher followed the bard back to his spot by the river, sitting down with him and hugging his knees to his chest. “Do you always write stuff that doesn’t make sense?”

“Well that’s the thing.” Harper took up his charcoal again. “It does make sense. Just in a figurative sense, not a literal one. There are a lot of metaphors in my work.”

“Meta- what?” Rasmus tilted his head. “You’re still not making any sense.”

“Here, look. Show me the page you were looking at.” Harper holds out the papers and Rasmus shuffles through to hand him the piece about the wolf and the lark. “Ah, this one!” The bard grins, quickly refreshing his memory of the work. “This one is good, a perfect example.”

“Yeah, see, this one is crazy.” Rasmus scooted closer to point at the page. “Wolves and larks can’t talk, they just do this.” His impressions of the animals were immaculate, in his opinion.

“That’s because it isn’t really about animals,” Harper chuckled. “It’s about the White Wolf and his bard. I’ve taken a few courses in Oxenfurt while the master bard Dande- er, Jaskier was teaching. It was absolutely riveting the stories he tells. Full of action! Full of passion! I couldn’t get them out of my head! See, the wolf is the witcher, and the lark is the bard.”

“...So why are the bard and the witcher talking about regular animal things?”

“That’s part of the metaphor!” Harper grins, absolutely thrilled to explain. “The lark speaks of how sad he is to fly south while the wolf spends the season near his den because the bard and the witcher part in the winter. He gets so glum about it, it’s rather adorable the friendship they share.”

Rasmus reads the page again. “So… a metaphor is like saying something but with totally different words than you mean. That sounds confusing.”

“It can be, and not everyone will understand what your words mean.”

“So… why write like that?”

Harper thinks on this a moment. “I suppose because even if they don’t grasp the real meaning, they might still enjoy the surface level story. They might like just reading a story about a wolf and a lark having a chat. And it makes it easier to write heavier stories and emotions.”

Rasmus nods a bit, looking at the words on the page. “...Can I have some paper you haven’t used?”

“Sure, kid.” Harper hands Rasmus three clean sheets. “Just use them well, all right?”

#miles.fic #witcher oc #oc: Rasmus #oc: Harper #figured I'd start with the one that has very little to do with the lore of Ras kfjhdfkjh #bc the second might need a little basic plot explanation and my very own Charlie Kelly mailroom incident moment ✨

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usopp-writes · 2 years

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Gasp. Well done on 150 xx I probably missed the line but Marco for your fic giveaway? Marco and a reader thats his assistant and they fall in love? Thank you <3

Franky. Thank you so much. You didn't miss the line, in fact, you managed to snap the last open spot for this. I love writing Marco, he's so fun to write and he's also one of my many husbandos, so ofc I would always want to write him. I love this trope, but it's my first time really writing this. Thansk for giving me the opportunity to do so.

Enjoy <3

Marco x GN reader SFW Word count: 1,501

You’d some knowledge of medical herbs and plants when you joined the Whitebeard pirates, which led you to be part of the first division – the medical division. You weren’t sure what to expect – it was your real first encounter with pirates – but it was definitely not this. The division was large; all with just the tiny little medical knowledge had been divided into this division, except from a few. Well, actually this crew was large, even bigger than the small town you came from. You’d felt like life was boring, your heart yearning to see the world and gain more knowledge and then you suddenly found yourself on the Moby Dick; where you not only got a new family, but also the chance to live out your dream. It made your heart race in excitement.

Waiting for the first division commander, you looked around in the infirmary. It was clean and neat, just as you had thought it was and very organized. At least the medicine and tools were perfectly lined up, ready to grab. You could tell what most of the tools and medicine were for and you were pleased to see that whoever ran this infirmary were making sure to be restocked and ready to handle any situation within a heartbeat. You liked this a lot, even though you weren’t a doctor or nurse. However, it gave you a sense of security and safety to know that the infirmary was well prepared for the unknown and the sorts of wounds that would occur on a daily basis.

“So you’re my new assistant, yoi.”

You turned around with a smile and almost dropped it. Was this your commander? He was good looking, but in an odd way. You were sure no one else could rock the hair style or his outfit, though it somehow worked for him. He looked tired, though there was a smile dancing at the corner of his lips and you did see some spark in his eyes. Maybe he just looked so drowsy all the time?

“I guess so.” You tried to act cool and unbothered by the fact that he too had checked you out. It was just normal to take in the appearance of someone you just met, right? At least that was what you always did and none had really told you to stop doing so.

“Well, let’s see how much you know. Ready for a quiz, yoi?” Marco strolled over to the desk and took out some papers. You were slightly surprised about this, but nodded and followed him, sitting across the table. Up close he was even more handsome, the spark in his eyes shining more and you could tell they were blue – like the ocean. You had heard that his epithet was the phoenix and you wondered if it was due to a Devil’s Fruit.

A smirk formed on his lips, as he placed a pen and some papers in front of you. “I just want to know how much you know. This is the easiest way, yoi.” With that he sat back, waiting for you to finish the quiz or rather test. You didn’t mind, he was right. If he knew what you knew, he could better decide how to put your skills at use.

The silence was only disturbed by your scribbling on the paper, some questions too complicated, others to easy. You didn’t see how Marco watched you, reading your answers when he could and letting out a small hum now and then.

“Done.” You said after some time, handing him the papers. He didn’t look at them at first, just looking at you for a few seconds.

“Did you find it easy, yoi?”

You shrugged. “Some of the questions, yes, but others were easy enough. Most of them, however, were mediocre.”

He nodded. “Looked so. You also finished rather quickly. Well, welcome in the first division. I’m Marco and you’ll be my personal assistant from this day on. Try your best to follow me, but never risk your own health in doing so, yoi.”

You blinked at last sentence, but guessed you would soon enough see what he meant. Smiling, you formally introduced yourself, telling him you looked forward to this next adventure in your life. The warm and bright smile he gave you made your whole decision to join the crew worth it. You felt welcome.

-x-

It didn’t take you long to get into a routine with Marco. While you didn’t follow his sleep schedule – seriously when did he sleep? – you found a good rhythm together. He was not as strict or stoic as you first thought, he was actually laid-back and a teaser. The way he playfully teased his family – including you – and how he would just point a the first aid kit and tell anyone with a minor cut or wound to take care of themselves, made you laugh. He did take his job seriously when needed, but minor wounds he couldn’t be bothered with and neither could you. It happened way too often, so you quickly expected people to handle it themselves, as you had more important or interesting things to do.

You quickly grew fond of Marco and slowly the two of you got close, you told him who taught you about medical herbs and plants, while he told you stories about the crew and himself, though never anything about his time before joining the crew and you wondered if he could even remember. From others, you’d heard he’d been here since a child, though no one told you at what age he came onto the Moby Dick and frankly, you didn’t care. It didn’t matter; you liked Marco as he was. Kind, helpful and protective.

It happened so slowly that when you realized it, it came as lightning from a clear sky. You were working with Marco – as always – the evening was slightly turning to night. As always, you gazed from the clock and to him, enjoying how the dim light caressed his feature. It made your heart race a little faster and you felt as if you could drown in the beauty that was Marco. When the thought occurred, you froze for a moment. Suddenly you realized just how beautiful he was; realized that you noticed he always tilted his head a little, when musing over something and the way he always smiled at you, whenever you had said something funny or smart. It was then you realized that you was not just fond of Marco, you were in love with him.

“Is something wrong, yoi?” Marco looked at you, slight worries lying in his eyes.

You mentally shook your head, looking down, as to try and hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. “It’s nothing. I was just lost in my thoughts.” You muttered, overwhelmed with the fact that you were in love with your commander, who also were your mentor and friend.

He hummed thoughtfully, you knew that hum too well. He didn’t quite believe you, but wouldn’t pursue the matter further right now. It would give you some time to come up with a plan to hide those feelings from him and hopefully they would pass. You didn’t think he would feel the same about you or that it would even work out. Not because he was a commander, it was only a title; he wasn’t more worth than you in the eyes of your captain and himself. Marco had told you over and over again that you were just as much worth as he was. He was just helping out your captain, as being in charge of 1,600 people was not easy.

“Would you join me for dinner tomorrow, yoi?”

You jolted your head up, surprised by the sudden question. “Dinner?”

He smirked, rose and sat at the edge of your desk. “Yes. Thought I should do something about it and according to Thatch, dinner is perfect for a first date, yoi.”

Blinking confused, you stared at him. Dinner? Date? Was he seriously asking you out on a date? Why? And why this way?

“Guess I was wrong, yoi.” Marco sounded a little hurt and disappointed. It snapped you out of your thoughts and you grabbed his hand before he moved away from you.

“I would love to. Having dinner with you, I mean.”

He smiled brightly at you; the warmth it gave made you feel so loved. Placing two fingers under your chin, he leaned down, though your lips didn’t meet.

“I am looking forward to our date, blossom. Just you and I, yoi.”

“So do I.” You liked the pet name he picked for you. It fit you very well, as you’d bloomed a lot over the months being here and it also fit you, due to your interest in herbs and plants. You couldn’t believe that he’d picked a pet name for you or that he was having feelings for you too. Today was your lucky day it seemed.

#marco x gn reader #self insert x canon #one piece x reader #one piece #sfw #marco x yn #gender neutral reader

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tmabutlesbian · 2 years

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i have SO MANY hc's abt martin's family?? like. they're canon to me now. let me try n tell y'all, but btw some ages are not. still very set but yh. also i'll focuse on his mother's side cause i hc martin as half-polish half-korean, n while he does keep in contact, it is far away. but i guess i'll start this hc list by saying:

the first time martin does go to korea is when his mother goes to the care home (or whatever you'd call it) n he feels safe enough to do so. he's around 22/23 years old. the entire family is delighted to see him and all speak english with him, some more broken than others, but martin did learn korean (i hc that he is pretty good at learning languages) n pleades them to let him use it.

also they were shocked at how old he is now, since this part of the family is the one with the most children, so ofc they dont have time for everyone, but omg!! adult!! has a job!! also they dont judge him for not finishing college, and a lot of them are also fat or chubby. just fyi. when he leaves, they decide to send him soju on any given holiday, his birthdays, his mum's birthdays, etc. to the point where martin Does Not Know what to do with all the alcohol in his home.

martin's polish grandparents have kept their lives very secret due to the fact that they had to run away from the country due to committing crimes. they flew to england, and changed their names. they chose blackwood as the last name because it was an author that they both liked n also the reason why they met. the only reason his family ever found out abt this is because after they had died, the children were cleaning their room and stuff n found some journals with their original names ripped, scribbled, painted over, etc. it's the biggest mystery in his family, right next to what happened to his father

the polish side of the family has 6 children, 8 originally, but one died at birth and another tragically went missing when he was five. it consists of 4 women and 2 men (the two dead children were 2 boys, n according to their ages, these siblings had a pattern of boy-girl-boy-girl, which is kinda funny).

the oldest is Uncle Ron, then it's martin's mum, then the boy who died at childbirth, then twins 1 girl 1 boy, then another aunt, then the missing child, and finally the youngest sister, Aunt Z short for Zelda. She is 12 years older than martin

(btw i did math for this just so yknow) forget what i said abt the ages i got it all figured out SO: (martin is 28 for reference) Uncle ron- 54; Martin's mum- 53; dead son- 21 years older; twins- 47; Aunt- 44; missing son- 14 years older; Aunt Z- 40. i do not have months n shit figured out cuz frankly i dont give a fuck but yh. also his grandma was 23 when she had Ron, his grandpa was also 23 but he is 2 months younger than her

Uncle Ron is a sweetheart and Martin's fav uncle. He has a cottage and a farm up in scotland, with a forest surrounding it, and he has an affinity for befriending the wild animals in it, most importantly, bears, which i just found out do not exist there but tbh theres fear god thingies in this universe so u can fuck off if u pull my none existent PENIS because of this, anyways. he introduced 5 year old martin to them and the mama bear at the time thought he was one of her cubs n almost took him away. Uncle Ron has photos of all of this. martin has those photos on his phone. Also Uncle Ron is pretty lean, more than 2 meters tall, n also ace and pan. He found this out much later in life but he's proud he did and is very happy rn. His voice is akin to Con O'Neill but a lil deeper and with some accent from the years living in Scotland (besides the english accent i mean)

imma skip martins mum, except for the fact that recently i thought of the hilarity of her being bisexual and knowing martin was gay since he was 5, but got meaner when he came out because of bad luck, she also got sicker n therefore her mind deteriorated more then. Martin only finds this out through his Aunt Z when he first started his archival assistant job. boy was going through it.

THE TWINS! i dont have names yet BUT the aunt is known for being a bit bland but nice, with a horrid first marriage but now doing much better with her second husband. she did, however, with the second one, create a HELLISH pair of twins, also boy n girl, who martin babysat Once. never again. she's also bisexual but isnt very sure so she doesnt think much abt it. the uncle, however, went to prison, for aggravated assault and attempted murder (the guy was a nazi and also just a horrible person besides that fact, so he does not regret it); because of good behaviour he got out earlier, around the time martin was 17. he had only been in martin's life since he was 2 so he kinda missed a lot, like him coming out, which he does, which his uncle responds with him telling him that "it's not rly homosexuality if youre on top, i know it, i did that while i was locked up." martin didnt have much to comment but im happy to report that a decade just relaxing and coming back to normal life again has made him realize a lot of things, like the fact that he is gay. he's out of the country, in Portugal, just chilling n living life, still single btw hehe.

the next aunt is the one everyone hates since she is homophobic n racist n just a cunt rly. also shes the only one who is naturally blonde which was just a red flag from the start /hj; everyone else is a raging red head, darker the older you are, the only exceptions being the twins, the aunt is strawberry blonde and the uncle has dark brown hair, almost black. no one cares for the homophobic aunt, since shes also out of the country, somewhere in the USA

AND AT LAST!!! Aunt Z... listen im gonna be honest with y'all, i based her entire personality on Katya, the drag queen, lil bits n bobs, the only difference is that she pursued an art career but was in and out of rehab for most of Martin's childhood, only truly coming out when he was around 23/24 years old, getting back to work and having more sober fun. she is a delight, and isnt afraid of helping martin out with money problems since her time in rehab got her into some great contacts n her art is booming, which also means shes travelling a lot. she is the only one martin truly accepts help from just because she will annoy the fuck out of u otherwise so. u might as well. also, i have some au's where she meets the archival crew and falls in LOVE with Tim n Sasha, she loves them; she is pan, leans more towards girls, and may be non binary but she isnt sure yet, she'll figure it out.

regarding children n cousins, martin is the oldest bby in both families. besides the demon twins, the homophobic aunt has some kids but she had them all the way over on the USA so they dont know them well. the boring aunt, besides the twins from the second marriage, has an older child with the first one, and they are non binary, as well as having a pet frog and snake, whom Martin loves. they're also goth, and remind Martin of gerry once they read his statements. there's no other children.

on the korean side of the family, theres 4 children, one of them being martin's father, status unknown, and their mother is alive. she also cooks very well, tho ofc her children help her as well, but she likes doing things herself. when martin goes there the first time he cried when he ate her food and had to quickly reassure her that its because he loved it too much.

martin's father is the oldest, then a sister, and then 2 younger brothers. i dont have names yet nor ages more because martin also doesnt rly interact with them much, tho he wishes he did.

this is the family with a lot of children. ignoring martin's father, the sister had 4 children, the next brother had 5, and the last brother had 4, making that 13 children. and yes, the two brothers workship their wives, cuz ofmg. the only thing i have rn is that the oldest cousin of martin's from this side is only some months younger than him, and one of his cousins is actually studying art in the UK, so they're pretty close. she's on her last year when martin is 28. his youngest cousin on this side of the family is 13, and martin is his fav cousin btw. mostly because whenever they would all play games, during that first visit, whenever martin would sit out of a game, he'd help his bby cousin cheat and win. all his other cousins are incredibly offended by this.

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #tmalesbeen talks #tma headcanons #i had to stop here cuz theres a limit????? WHAT #horrible #anyways yh i love them basically

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yutaholic · 5 months

Text

suck my kiss (M)

PAIRING: Mark (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: There's a lot of tension between you and Mark, but neither of you seem brave enough to do anything about it.

WARNINGS: strong language; alcohol and marijuana use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.1k words; this is part one of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Pittsburgh, 1991

I knew we would be best friends forever when some douchebag made a comment about me having three holes and the boys jumped him for it.

Mark lowered the notebook and arched a brow. “That’s how you’re starting our memoir?”

“It’s the truth,” you said with a shrug.

Amused, Mark gave you a look over the rim of his glasses and kept reading.

You made yourself comfortable and pretended to skim through a magazine, but you were actually staring at Mark. It was early, around noon. Which wasn’t early to most, but when you played gigs until four in the morning, it was like the crack of dawn.

Mark’s eyes drooped sleepily, but he still agreed to review what you’d scribbled into your notebook thus far. Three weeks had passed since graduation; the end of high school and the beginning of a long, crazy summer of traveling and performing, so you didn’t have that much written down yet.

Your plan was to document the trip, and add as many dirty details as possible. Part of you hoped there could be a potential novel buried in there somewhere, but you weren’t holding your breath. Writing was a hobby usually reserved for lyrics. Music was your forte and your mistress.

She would get all of your time and attention. Or at least what was left over from the boys.

Mark sipped the hot cup of coffee you’d made for him. His black hair was fluffy and overgrown, and you desperately wanted to comb your fingers through it. He didn’t have the energy to shave his stubble yet, having just woken up, so he was scruffy, much to your delight.

Something about soft, disheveled Mark made you go insane. Although to be fair, Mark in general made you weak in the knees. His handsome face, his gorgeous smile, and that obscenely sexy voice of his. Take your fucking pick.

Nibbling on your lip as your thoughts turned lewd, you kept flipping pages absentmindedly, missing an article aptly titled The Perfect Blow Job, and stared at Mark like a total creep to the point you almost leapt out of your skin when Jeno banged his fist loudly on the door.

“Babe,” Jeno whined, appearing in the open doors of the van wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Where’s the soap?”

“It’s in the nice little bag of bath stuff I packed for you, dear,” you sang back, matching the obnoxious, high-pitched tone he reserved for you. You pointed at the black bag sticking out from under the passenger seat.

“Thanks.” Jeno gave a little wave and headed back inside the rest stop for a shower with the bag in hand.

Hotels were expensive and what little cash you got from gigs went to fuel and food. Rest stops on the highway became part of the regular routine thanks to their well-stocked vending machines.

The vast majority had showers and clean bathrooms. A few had beautiful scenic views with picnic tables, where you and the boys could eat lunch with the ambience of loud semi-trucks peeling off onto the highway.

You almost laughed. “Did he really walk all the way in and get naked before thinking about soap?”

“That’s Jeno,” Mark replied dryly.

You bent your knees and wrapped your arms around them, and said, “I’m just glad he’s bathing. Shit’s been smelling real fresh in here.”

That’s why the doors were open, letting the van ventilate. The crisp Pennsylvania breeze was doing her best.

“We warned you about hitting the road with three guys.”

“I must have missed the memo that ownership of a penis exempts you from bathing.”

Mark glanced over at you, wanting to giggle at how nonchalantly you said penis, and fussed, “Hey, I’m clean.”

“You are the cleanest. I’ll give you that.” You continued before you could stop yourself, “You actually smell really good.”

His brow crooked up. “Do I?”

“Keep reading,” you mumbled, heat flooding your cheeks.

Mark grinned and did as told, but his gaze couldn’t help but wander from your worn-out notebook to your pretty features. As usual, your hair was tied up in a messy bun on your head, out of your eyes. You barely made a sound when you yawned and Mark thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen; the way your nose scrunched up and you dramatically raised your arms over your head, making your shirt ride up and give him a short glimpse of your tummy.

That made his eyes fall. Goddamn her, Mark thought. You always wore tiny, flimsy tank tops that hugged your breasts. Not that anyone blamed you. It could get downright stuffy in the van. But Mark was humiliated that the mere suggestion of your nipples’ existence made his brain take a pause and made his body want to take a bow.

Mark had noticed you only wore a bra outside of the van. You didn’t care about free-boobing it around them. Why should you? Home for the time being was a 1989 Chevrolet G20 that Jeno managed to snag for a bargain. The four of you split the cost evenly and customized the interior for the road trip.

There was a bed against the very back that you piled high with blankets and pillows. A small storage cabinet was bolted to the side, hoarded with snacks and coffee. Haechan found some shaggy tan carpet and Jeno nailed it to the floor, while Mark put hideous curtains on the windows that kept out the bright morning sun.

In the past few weeks since the trip started, the van had become a cozy little living space for you and your bandmates. Most evenings Mark spent on the floor, playing guitar while you sang quietly along and let lyrics come to you. A few more songs were written while Jeno drove and Haechan caught up on sleep.

So, why wouldn’t you be going braless? It was your home, after all. You were supposed to be comfortable with your boys. Mark was just a guy with regular guy-like hormones that saw boobies and thought, Whew. I really like those.

Mark made himself focus on reading your draft until he could say, “I’m finished.” He handed you the notebook and took off his glasses to rub his eyes, adding, “Pretty good so far. I especially like how boring I am.”

You gawked. “You’re not boring!”

“I’m just not wild like the rest of you,” he grumbled, but wild was the wrong word. Mark knew that. He meant brave.

You and Jeno were downright fearless. Even Haechan didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought of him. Meanwhile, Mark was painfully cautious. In life and love. He was raised that way and no matter how much time he spent with the band, his parents’ influence didn’t wear off.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you assured him, stashing the notebook. “We need a designated driver.”

“But what if I want to cut loose every once and a while?”

“Just let me know and I will cover for you. Problem solved.”

Mark leaned forward and asked in hushed tones, “Cover for me how?”

You shrugged. Did you really need to spell it out for him? “If you want to drink, I’ll drive. It’s not a big deal.”

“And what if I want a girl?” Mark pressed.

“Oh.” You blanked. Your heart stuttered to a stop at the very brief mental image that flashed across your eyes of Mark falling into bed with a faceless girl beneath him. A girl that wasn’t you.

Fuck.

“I… I, um, yeah,” you stammered, swallowing down the bitter taste in your mouth. “I could help with that, I guess. If you wanted me to.”

Mark stared you dead in the eyes, waiting.

You stared right back, wondering what the fuck he was up to. Was he clueless or was he intentionally tormenting you? You shook your head. There wasn’t a mean bone in Mark’s body. He wouldn’t jerk you around for fun. No, he was definitely unaware of how much the suggestion killed you.

It wasn’t Mark’s fault you were in love with him.

“You’ve just never seemed…,” you trailed, finding your voice again. “Interested in any girls. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet, but if you do, I can cover for you. What are friends for, right?”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Mark shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

What do you want from me? That’s what you wanted to say, sniping at him with venom, but you stifled it. You were more than a little frustrated by the exchange - frustration was preferable to heartache - and it showed on your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nope,” Mark said, grabbing his bag and heading into the rest stop to shave, much to your disappointment.

You rubbed your arms and started rethinking this whole summer. Watching Jeno be dragged away by girls did nothing to you. When Haechan scored a one-night stand, you gave him a high five for it.

But Mark? Seeing a girl lead him away with her, knowing she would get to know how he kissed, how he touched, how he felt. That would probably kill you.

Snatching your notebook, you flipped violently to a new page and began scribbling about what a rambling idiot you were. Not to mention an enormous loser for crushing on somebody that didn’t even bat an eye in your general direction. You were just another one of the boys to Mark and that shit hurt.

“He meant you.”

You jumped for the second time that day and whirled around with your hand over your racing heart. “Fuck’s sake. How long have you been standing there?”

Haechan was propped against the side of the van, beside the open doors, his hair still damp from the shower. “Long enough to hear you stutter like a moron. ‘Oh, Mark, I didn’t know you like girls.’ Really?”

You scowled. “What was I supposed to say? He’s never asked me to play wingman like Jeno does.”

“Because he wants to bone you, you idiot.”

“He does not,” you huffed, but hope sprung eternally in your chest. “Mark has never hit on me.”

Haechan clambered into the van, making himself comfortable across from you, rubbing at his head with the towel around his shoulders to dry his hair. “He’s scared of you, methinks. You’re a force of nature, you know.”

You shrugged. Haechan always did that; a constant push and pull. Calling you an idiot with one breath and a force of nature the next. Typical Gemini. In a small voice, you said, “Mark doesn’t like me.”

That was all you could bring yourself to say. You had undeniable proof by way of a night you shared with Mark last year, when you had him in your arms and he turned you down. Haechan didn’t know all that went down and you weren’t going to bring him up to speed.

It was too embarrassing. The sting of rejection still felt fresh in your mind, bitter on your tongue.

Haechan decided this was the perfect time for humor. “Mark stares at your tits.”

“All of you stare at my tits!”

“They’re there. And they’re fantastic.”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing down, happy with the switching of subjects. Anything but Mark. “They are pretty great, huh?”

Haechan took your face in his hands and squished your cheeks together, locking eyes with you. “Do you want to fuck Mark or not?”

“Of course I wanna fuck Mark. Don’t you?”

“I’ll pass. Now tell me what I gotta do to get you two together.”

“I have an idea,” came a familiar voice behind him. Both of you looked to Jeno, his skin glistening from the shower.

You glanced between them and asked, “Are you planning to pimp me out?”

Jeno smiled. “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged into a frown.

I couldn’t bring myself to say I wasn’t good enough for Mark. He was the perfect boy next door, with a good family on the right side of the tracks. He was kind and gracious, and the most giving person I’d ever met.

I, on the other hand, was his opposite in every way. The self-destructive girl with a shitty home situation on the wrong side of the tracks. The girl who tied her own worth to her boys and her mental health to her music.

The fact I offered myself to Mark on a silver platter and he turned me down only sealed the deal on the distance between us.

“Mark is out of my league,” you said nonchalantly, hoping that would be the end of it. Jeno sniffing around would be dangerous. Haechan would be lethal.

“Are you insane?” Jeno exclaimed. “He’s a guy.”

Haechan was studying your face, and the stitch in your brow and the sadness in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. In the next second, he got his arms around you and tackled you to the floor. You giggled in surprise before hooking your arms and legs around him, returning the hug.

This was very normal behavior for you and your best friend. Haechan never hesitated to show you affection, especially when it was sorely needed.

But of course, Mark chose that moment to come back and whine, “Can you guys stay off her for five minutes?”

Haechan’s words were muffled against your neck. “She was sad. I’m comforting her.” Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek that made you smile, Haechan sat up and said, “You should try it sometime. She won’t bite you.”

“Unless you’re into that,” Jeno quipped.

Mark was not amused. He climbed into the van and shut the doors behind him, snipping, “Can we just hit the road already?”

Jeno turned to you and you gave him a nod, letting him know you were alright. He slipped behind the wheel, firing up the engine without another word. Haechan found his way to the bed and a moment later, you could hear the familiar music of Super Mario Land on his Gameboy.

The tension with Mark was more than your heart could handle, so you hid yourself in the passenger seat, taking in the beautiful sunny day in Pennsylvania as Jeno cruised the I-76 toward Pittsburgh. Occasionally, he would reach over and touch your hand or your knee, and you would smile.

None of you were surprised when Mark began strumming away at his acoustic guitar. You leaned your head back, closed your eyes, and sighed contentedly. Every now and then, he would sing a little, but always quietly. Mark wasn’t confident in his vocals yet, which was a shame, because his voice was beautiful.

You couldn’t resist anymore and you turned around in the seat, calling to Mark softly, “I love your voice.”

Mark blushed and lowered his head, long fluffy hair shielding his eyes. “Thanks,” he said, shy as ever. He was a sucker for compliments, but had no fucking clue how to take them.

“Maybe by the end of the summer, you’ll be singing with me.”

Mark snorted. “I can’t hold a candle to you.”

“I can,” Haechan announced, mashing at buttons.

You chuckled, but sobered immediately when Mark followed with a barely whispered, “You’re way out of my league.”

No, you’re out of mine, you wanted to roar at him. Had he forgotten that night?

Your heart hammered inside your chest. It was pathetic as hell; pining for a boy that was too good for you.

You said nothing, pretending you hadn’t heard his comment. It was for the best. The time for humor had passed. Now there was only tension again, and not the good kind.

Jeno checked you out of the corner of his eye. He knew better than to rock the boat with his quips. Although that was his favorite pastime, he could tell by the look on your face it would hurt.

Meanwhile, Haechan rolled his eyes in the back of his head. These kids. Mark would have to tattoo your name on his forehead before you even considered having a chance with him and you would have to shove your tongue down his throat before Mark would pluck up the courage to ask you out.

The van grew quiet again, save for Mark’s gentle strumming. You watched him for a bit, wishing you didn’t love him as much as you did. The van glided down the highway and eventually, Mark’s hushed singing and the swaying of the drive lulled you to sleep.

Haechan’s vigorous shaking of your shoulder woke you. “Wakey wakey,” he sang, pinching your nose between his fingers until you opened your eyes.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours.”

“Mmph.” You struggled to rouse yourself and heaved a big yawn as you sat up. There was a stiff kink in your neck and you turned your head back and forth to free it up, to no avail.

Mark walked with you into the club, but neither of you could bring yourselves to make small talk. You weren’t sure when the tension with him escalated to this point, but it was miserable. You wanted desperately to break the ice. Among other things.

This was only month one of three, after all. How the hell were you going to get through this summer?

You walked into the dressing room to find a shirtless Jeno fastening his outrageously tight leather pants. Slipping the backpack off your shoulder, you rifled through it for your clothes. Haechan was the last to arrive to the dressing room as you stripped down to your underwear, having made sure all was set up with the venue.

“Alright, who’s in charge of the pep talk tonight?” Jeno asked in a taunt.

Mark put his back to you, because seeing so much of your bare skin made his dick twitch in his pants. Fuck’s sake.

“Not me,” you told Jeno, slipping into your shirt.

Haechan marched right over to you and said, “I want you to take all that teenage lovesick angst you’re feeling and channel it into singing your stunning little ass off.”

Jeno clapped. “Inspirational.”

You made a face and deadpanned, “I’ll do my best, master.”

Haechan left a single sweet kiss on your nose before strutting out of the room. To your surprise, Jeno then proceeded to shoo you away.

“What?” you whined as he steered you to the door.

“I need to talk to Mark. I love you, but get out.”

Jeno slammed the door shut behind you and you let a few choice swear words pass before heading after Haechan.

Once I was on the stage, with the lights beaming down on me, all was right with the world again.

This was what we lived for.

Dressed in black leather, singing till your voice was hoarse, ears ringing from the speakers cranked way too high. The roar of the crowd sent chills across your skin.

Mark played the electric guitar like it was an extension of his own body. You couldn’t help but sneak glances of him, his fingers so expertly hitting every chord. You wanted him to play you like that.

Your eyes met and Mark smirked ever so briefly. Both of you were in your element and nothing else mattered.

When the show ended, you were still riding the high. It would linger for hours like chemicals in your veins.

Haechan swept you up in his arms, pressing a kiss to your cheek and then the other. “You were great,” he cheered, his pulse throbbing so hard you could almost feel it blend with your own.

“No, you were,” you said with a grin.

“I’m always great.”

You giggled and pulled Haechan in for a hug, clinging to him tightly, needing someone to anchor you back to the surface of the earth. Haechan rubbed his hands up and down your back, soothing you.

Normally, the four of you celebrated after a show, but Jeno and Mark were nowhere to be found, which did nothing but frustrate you. Unbeknownst to you, Jeno was giving Mark another much-needed pep talk.

When Jeno appeared in your periphery, you broke from Haechan just in time for him to seize you in his arms and press a loud kiss on your neck. “Bravo. You had every dude in that crowd so fucking hard, babe,” Jeno teased.

You snorted. “That’s my job, right?”

Jeno nodded, giving you a wink.

Mark called your name.

As Jeno released you, you turned around expectantly, but Mark caught you off-guard.

He looked sheepish, his eyes a little hazy. Meanwhile, Jeno and Haechan cleared out to eavesdrop behind the door. Not the least bit subtle.

You were too busy checking Mark over to really notice. “Everything okay?”

Mark nodded. “I think that was our best show to date.”

“Well, it was only the third,” you replied, trying to be encouraging. “Maybe we’ll just get better and better with each stop.”

“You can’t get better. You’re already perfect.”

You blinked as Mark moved toward you, closing the distance until he was only a breath away from you.

And you immediately smelled the alcohol.

“Every time I watch you on stage…,” he trailed, looking even more out of it. “I feel like I’ve seen God.”

Your lips parted in disbelief.

Mark’s voice sunk further to unknown depths as he said your name. “You’re a god to me.”

Every inch of you was on fire. Given how much Mark loved Jesus, it was an exorbitant compliment and you had no fucking idea how to take it. “Mark, how much did you drink?” you asked, masking your shock behind worry.

“Jeno gave me two shots of tequila, so I could tell you this.”

That was both adorable and totally bemusing.

“Oh. Um…, thank you,” you said shyly, still searching frantically for words. Any words. None of them sounded right in your head and they dared not leave your lips.

Mark gawked. And then he walked away, completely deflated.

You scratched your head, knowing the opportunity to get Mark in your arms just passed you by. You’d fumbled the ball so hard the New York Jets were going to draft you.

Grow up, you told yourself. Just because he gave you the highest compliment of which he is capable does not necessarily mean he would have enjoyed a kiss.

Haechan came stomping over and snapped, “Really, bitch?”

You recoiled. “What?”

“He called you God and you said thank you?”

Bristling with frustration, you shot back, “What was I supposed to say? I’m in shock.”

“You were supposed to…,” Haechan groaned, throwing up his hands. “That's it! I’ve had enough. Jeno, get Mark.”

Jeno didn’t hesitate to go after Mark while Haechan grabbed you and began leading you outside to the van.

“Haechan, are you serious right now?” You struggled against him for a second or two before giving up. Looks were deceiving. Haechan felt infinitely stronger than you when he wanted to be.

Your best friend snapped, “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I can’t stand either of you anymore and your pathetic puppy dog eyes, and I’m sick of the fucking pining!”

“I’m not pining,” you said in denial.

Haechan quite literally tossed you into the van. Mark was a few seconds behind, being unceremoniously shoved inside by Jeno. Together, they closed the doors and pressed their backs to them.

You banged your hand on the window angrily. “This isn’t funny!”

Haechan yelled, “You’re not getting out until you both work through this shit.”

“What happens in the van, stays in the van,” Jeno said coyly, just as he had the day the four of you hit the road.

“This is humiliating,” Mark groaned, slumping to the carpeted floor face-down.

You looked at him awkwardly.

It’s ironic that this was a very familiar scenario for us.

At a party in eleventh grade, Haechan and Jeno threw me and Mark into a closet for seven minutes of heaven.

It turned into twenty.

We didn’t do sex, but we did other things. Really great things that felt so good I still think about them. Mark was the one to pump the brakes. He didn’t want to go farther and it’s haunted me ever since.

That I wasn’t good enough.

You shifted nervously, staring down at Mark splayed on the shaggy carpet and wanting to run your hand through his dark hair. Sitting beside him, you confessed, “This is my fault.”

“How?”

“They figured out I want to…,” you started, biting your lip. This was awkward enough and it was about to get much, much worse. “Hook up with you and I guess they’re taking the job very seriously.”

Mark lifted his head sharply and gave you the most irritated look you’d ever seen. “Hooking up with me is a job?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?”

You started wringing your hands as Mark sat up. The two of you were cross-legged, facing each other, and Mark was eagerly awaiting what you had to say. “I’m really not good at explaining myself,” you told him, your voice trembling.

Mark tilted his head. “Can you try? I’m listening. And it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere for a while.”

You were relieved to hear he sounded more amused than angry. Your eyes fell to your hands in your lap. His handsome face was too much and those wide, sparkling eyes made your courage flee out of sight. You couldn’t look at him and you fumbled for the words.

Why was this so hard?

Mark made a noise of frustration and huffed your name. “I did my part. I told you I’m into you. Why can’t you do the same?”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, tears threatening. I don’t want you to leave me again.

After Mark left me in that closet, still sweaty and panting from his kisses and his touch, I cried. I cried so hard I couldn’t catch my breath.

He had every right to walk away. I’ve never faulted him for that. But it hurt. Knowing he was saving himself for the girl he loved and I wasn’t - and never would be - that lucky girl.

I was too broken, too damaged. He wanted someone whole.

Shaking his head, Mark crawled over to the bed, leaning back against the side and resigning himself to the impasse you and he had created. Mark had no idea when it was built, only that he felt the effects and hated it. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

Mark felt hopelessly inadequate. He couldn’t compete with Jeno or Haechan. You were so close to both of them, physically and emotionally, but you were inexplicably guarded with Mark. Sure, Jeno was your ex and Haechan was your best friend, the intimacy was unmatched.

But Mark wondered why were you adamantly against letting anything grow between you and him.

You watched his every move, hinged on each breath he took. You’d never wanted someone so badly in your life. Swallowing your cowardice, you asked, “Can I show you instead?”

Mark lifted his head and your eyes met. His heart skipped a beat, and then another. He spread out his arms, letting them hang lazily off the edge of the bed, like he had not a care in the world. Which was deliberate and dishonest. Mark had all the cares. He wished he could steal some of Jeno’s confidence and Haechan’s arrogance.

But Mark was soft. His heart was on the verge of combusting as the silence in the van grew heavier. You hadn’t moved an inch, waiting for his answer. The look of longing on your face was already making him crumble.

At last, Mark said, “Show me.”

You crawled over to him intently, expecting he would change his mind again, dreading it. If he changed his mind now, you’d never recover. You thought back to that closet, when he left you there, alone and devastated.

All the songs you wrote together about broken hearts were about that night. And he had no fucking clue.

Mark watched as you timidly straddled his lap, his hands sliding up your thighs and grasping your hips. You held his head and danced your lips over his lips, sinking deeper into him, drowning in his warmth. Mark leaned closer, enticing you to kiss him, wanting so badly to taste you.

Instead, you buried your face in his neck and started to nibble over his pulse, sliding your hands under his shirt and getting it off of him. Mark groaned low in his chest, lashes fluttering at your lips on his throat and the weight of you on his cock.

You were attuned to every move and every sound he made. You wanted to coax him past the point of no return, to a place where he wouldn’t be able to resist you. Then, you would finally be able to relax, your heart no longer on the line.

Mark whispered your name wantonly and you broke from his neck to travel your kisses over his collarbones and across his nipples, continuing further down to tongue down his abs. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t get enough air. You followed his happy trail to the band of his jeans and started unfastening his pants.

“Please say something,” Mark rasped, cursing himself for sounding so fucked out already.

You peered up at him, dragging his boxers down and making his hard cock spring free. “I’m gonna blow you,” you said nonchalantly, but your eyes were full of hunger, pupils dilated like black oceans.

Mark sucked in a breath. “Fuck.” His head fell back against the bed again and he winched his eyes closed. He almost argued. It felt selfish having you just pleasure him, but Mark wanted you to do whatever you wanted to him. The moment your hand wrapped around his dick, he sighed in relief, aching to be touched, his cock twitching in your fist.

But when your lips suddenly sealed around the tip and your tongue flicked out to taste him, the relief was dashed as quickly as it came. Mark’s body went painfully taut. A ripple of pleasure shot through him so sharply it was almost agony.

“Fuck,” he groaned a little louder, squirming underneath you.

You wanted to laugh. You’d barely touched him. This wasn’t going to take long.

Mark dug his teeth into his bottom lip as you bobbed up and down, sucking him deeper into your mouth each time. He hoped you would slip and graze him with your teeth; that would get him away from the edge, but you didn’t. You expertly worked him, your hand wrapped around the base, moving faster and faster until the head of his cock nudged your throat.

“Shit. Fuck!” Mark whimpered, not realizing his fingers had flown into your hair until he was gripping handfuls of it. You hummed around his cock in retaliation, sending vibrations through him that radiated into his body.

Mark’s eyes rolled back. He was on the cusp of orgasm, his jaw unhinged as a long, labored moan left him.

You were having the time of your life. The ache in your core was vicious, spurned by the fucking noises he made. Mark was losing control. He tried to be quiet at first, but you were out to make him sing for you.

Tears pricked at your eyes when his cock pressed deep into your throat, making your vision blurry. Mark was lifting his hips involuntarily now, though you could feel how hard he tried to fight it, to the point of shaking. You choked loudly just to rile him up. It worked. Mark wheezed out a moan and his hips jerked in a heat-seeking thrust.

You wanted to suck him dry, wanted to swallow the goddamn soul out of him so he’d follow you around like a lost puppy for the rest of his life.

With a sudden tug on your hair, you were surprised when Mark pried you away from his cock and you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to come like this.” His voice was shaking, strained like the rest of him.

Your heart fluttered. Did that mean… he wanted to come inside you? With you?

You let Mark pull you close and finally kiss you. His arms around you were painfully tight, trapping you to him, and his mouth on your lips was hurried and hungry.

“Mark?”

He willed himself to stop, his eyes misty and dazed. “Yeah?”

You slipped your arms over his shoulders and nibbled at your lip nervously. “Why didn’t you want to keep going when we were in that closet together?”

Mark frowned. “Do you think about that night too?”

Too? Your heart somersaulted again and again. “All the time,” you confessed in a tiny, embarrassed whisper.

That was oddly comforting. It meant things between you weren’t one-sided, after all.

Mark shifted a little underneath you, but his grip remained strong and secure. He wasn’t letting go of you anytime soon. “I was afraid that I’d finish too fast and wouldn’t make you feel good,” he finally said.

Your entire body relaxed. You let out a laugh at your own stupidity and fear. “That’s all?” You ran a hand through your hair, shaking your head. “I thought it was because… you didn’t like me enough.”

Mark gawked. “Are you kidding?”

You looked at him sadly and he finally realized how much you’d been doubting him over a misunderstanding.

Mark said your name tenderly. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you too,” you said with a big, overjoyed smile, barely getting the words out before Mark smashed his lips on yours.

He didn’t hesitate to scoop you up and put you on the bed underneath him, and you spread your legs, inviting him in, over the moon that you were finally going to get to have him. Mark brushed his hand over your clothed breasts and down your stomach, unbuckling your pants then slipping his hand inside and cupping your sex.

Kissing all the while, you stripped out of your shirt and bra as he played with your entrance, toying with the idea of pressing a finger inside, but not quite ready.

You had no idea what he was waiting for. Your walls were aching, clenching on nothing. You bucked your hips into his hand when he teased over your clit.

“You’re so wet,” Mark whispered, his fingers sliding back and forth between your folds, gathering your arousal. His eyes were on your naked breasts and he couldn’t help but lean in and suck a nipple into his mouth.

“Mark,” you called, earning a tiny grunt in response. He had no idea he was killing you. “Take my damn pants off.”

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his hand, sat up, and immediately went for the waistband of your jeans. You were running on empty where patience was concerned, helping him get your pants and underwear off.

Finally naked, you grabbed his hand and steered his fingers back to your pussy, giving him a quick nod.

Mark was salivating at you beneath him, your thighs spread open. He pushed his finger into your cunt and pumped inside, and when you mewled his name, he added another, feeling your walls clench on his digits.

“Shit,” he said, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to last a goddamn second in your tight, wet heat.

“Like that, baby,” you purred, gripping onto the blankets beneath you, arching your hips a little with his movements.

Mark sat between your legs and fucked you with his fingers, his free hand kneading and teasing at your breasts and nipples. You sighed out a moan and your eyes fluttered closed. As bad as you wanted sex, you didn’t want to rush him. And his hands felt so fucking good.

Mark forgot all about his performance anxiety and zeroed his attention on you. He’d forgotten how much he loved your moans and how desperately he wanted to get you off. Seeing your face stitch with pleasure made his cock stiffen even harder, so hard the tip leaked with precum. Mark found your sweet spot and hooked his fingers, picking up the pace when you moaned his name.

Your toes curled. You felt like you’d been edged for hours. Mark latched his lips around your nipple again and sucked, fucking into you with his long fingers, your pussy so slick with arousal you could feel it slipping down your folds.

“Fuck,” you swore, out of breath. You were too close, so close it was on the tip of your tongue, and you realized you didn’t want to come like this either. You batted at his hand and said, “Mark, get in me now. Now.”

Mark withdrew his hand and scrambled to his knees. His body was on autopilot as you begged for him, and he would deny you nothing you wanted. Mark spread your legs apart, bent your knees, and guided himself inside you.

You cried out his name and bowed against the bed, clinging to his arms as he sheathed himself to the hilt and started thrusting the moment he felt you open up for him.

“Goddamnit.” Mark knew he was fucked and shivered at your walls clamping down on his cock. “Shit.” Your body loved him; so tight and wet and hot around his cock. He let out a moan at finally being buried inside you and rocked his hips back and forth, sinking into you hard and slow.

You dug your nails into his back and matched his movements, drawing him into you hungrily. There was a very audible wet slap each time he pressed flush against your folds. “Fuck me, baby,” you whined, dragging your fingers down his chest. “I’m so close.”

He tossed the long hair out of his eyes and his face tensed with restraint. “If I go faster, I’m gonna come.”

“Then come.”

Mark groaned, driving his cock into you at a pace that built and built until his strokes were merciless, making you cry out with every breath you took, desperate for oxygen and release. You hooked your thighs on his hips and tangled your arms through his, lost in him, drowning in him.

“Mm, you feel so good,” you choked as he snatched the strength from your voice with thrusts that jarred your whole body. “And you were worried you wouldn’t make me feel good.”

“I’m not worried anymore,” Mark replied, looking down where your bodies met. With the way you writhed, Mark knew he was on the right track, tilting his hips to make sure he was digging at your sweet spot.

You shivered when he draped over you and you felt his lips brush over your cheek. Your breasts were pressed to his chest now and Mark hooked your leg in his arm. He tightened his hold on you, crushing you beneath his weight, and kissed you ravenously, your mouths open as you both panted.

Mark stopped drawing his hips back to plunge into you again and again. Instead, he stayed deep inside and started grinding into you, rolling his hips. You immediately peered up at him, surprised by the change of pace, but realizing he was out to finish you.

“M-Mark,” you stammered, gripping his arms. He fucked you on the squeaky mattress and made the van sway. Not that either of you noticed. Or cared.

Mark’s voice was a low, gentle growl, knocking down the last of the walls around your heart, your guard completely destroyed. “Come for me, baby.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. It was back; the edge, the very cusp of ecstasy. Your walls burned and the knot inside you clenched, ready to snap.

His hand tangled in your hair. His pace leveled, drawing his hips back and slamming his cock into you, never letting you recover. Mark pressed a kiss to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, then tugged on your hair. “Come. Fucking come all over my cock.”

“Oh god,” was all you managed to get out as your vision went dark and the pleasure spread from between your thighs to every corner of your body. Your own voice sounded distant as your ears rang and you tightened on Mark so hard his thrusts staggered.

Mark coaxed you through the high, keeping his pace steady, groaning deep in his throat at your pussy gripping his cock. All the nights he fisted his dick and thought of you, and nothing he’d ever imagined came remotely close to the real thing.

A mangled moan spilled from your lips and your body was finally yours again. You didn’t realize how desperately you were clinging to Mark until you came back to your senses. Your hands were on his ribs, your nails leaving tiny crescents in his skin.

“Fuck,” you sighed, blinking to clear your vision.

“Damn, baby,” Mark teased, stealing a kiss just as you began to giggle.

As you sucked on his tongue in your mouth, you reached for his hips and grinded yourself against him, earning a soft groan of pleasure. Meeting his eyes, you whispered, “Your turn.”

Mark propped himself over you and pumped his cock in your slick pussy, still pulsing with aftershocks. Internally, Mark was praising himself for not blowing his load the moment you started coming, but Jeno had been kind enough to warn him beforehand to stick with a rhythm that wouldn’t fuck him up in the vice of your body.

“Mark,” you crooned, pulling him down for a reassuring kiss. “Do what you gotta do. I can take it.”

Mark wanted to ask if you were absolutely sure about that. He wanted to be a gentleman, but he was in no position to argue with you. Knowing you were satisfied, that he had gotten you off, which was the biggest of his worries, made him hyper aware of how good you felt and how badly he wanted to find release inside you.

You bit your lip as he sped up, holding onto him for dear life. Mark gripped the edge of the bed tight as he fucked you, moaning and swearing in an endless cycle until finally he thrust in deep and painted your walls with cum, rutting his cock inside to get out every last drop.

Then he collapsed onto you like dead weight, making you squeak in surprise, but you weren’t complaining. You smiled and closed your eyes, and focused on catching your breath.

Mark began to stir and you ran a hand into his hair. Turning his head slightly, you dragged your lips over his jaw and said, “Don’t leave me yet.”

Never. Mark groaned. He dared not pull out yet, especially with how your legs were wound snugly over his, but he suddenly lifted his head and looked down at you with wide eyes. “Did we just make a baby?”

You snorted. “I’m on birth control, silly.”

Mark blew out a breath in relief. “Fuck. You made me lose my mind. I wasn’t thinking straight at all.”

“Good to know I have that kind of power over you,” you teased, touching his cheek affectionately before cascading your hands down his back, feeling him shiver as you did. Then you reeled your hand back and gave his plump ass cheek a smack.

Mark laughed and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever heard.

Eventually, he pulled out of you and flopped over at your side, his eyes still hazy. “That was…”

“Great,” you finished for him.

“Yes.”

“Amazing.”

“Also yes,” Mark said with a tiny snicker. He propped his head on his hand and stared at you excitedly. “Let’s do it again.”

“Sure,” you replied, grinning. It was such a pain that he could be so damn endearing. “What day works for you?”

He shook his head. “Now. I meant now.”

Your lips parted. “You’re hard again already?” You glanced down to see his cock standing at attention and you couldn’t help but gawk.

“Yeah?” To say Mark was happy to have impressed you was an understatement. It was your fault he started getting hard again. Feeling your skin under his fingertips, seeing your breasts rise and fall just from breathing… did he need to go on?

“Oh my god,” you growled, climbing onto him without hesitation.

Mark kissed you playfully, hands settling on your ass.

“I want to be on top this time,” you told him, pushing your hair back and rolling your hips as his cock slid between your folds.

“Oh, hell yeah. I’ve never been ridden before.”

You almost burst into laughter at that, and steered him into your entrance, sinking down on him slowly.

Outside, Haechan passed the blunt back to Jeno and smoke billowed from his lips as he said, “I’ve never felt so happy for someone other than me to get laid.”

“Word.”

The two sat on a wooden bench against the wall of the back of the club. Haechan tilted his head, watching the van rock from side-to-side, followed by Mark’s muffled moans. “We could get a hit album out of this,” he said offhandedly.

Jeno bobbed his head, taking another long drag. “You think a nut will cure his writer’s block?”

“It cured mine.”

Jeno chuckled, handing Haechan the joint.

“At least they’ll stop crying over each other. This will take the edge off all those annoying feelings.”

“Or it will make them worse.”

Haechan sighed. “You’re right. She’s going to panic after this. After she realizes they’re in love, but can’t do anything about it right now.”

“And he’s going to walk around with a broken heart,” Jeno said, cocking his head. “You’re right too. We will get a hit album out of this.”

Haechan snorted.

Eventually, the van door opened and Mark stumbled out, wearing only his sweatpants. Round two had lasted much longer than round one, which accounted for the smug yet disheveled look on his face. “What day is it?” Mark joked, running a hand through his messy hair.

Haechan offered him the joint while Jeno retorted, “How the fuck should we know?”

Mark inhaled and coughed out smoke loudly, making his friends chuckle.

“I’m thinking the next album should be called ‘Pussy Power’,” said Haechan with that mischievous grin of his.

“‘Pussy Power’,” you echoed, stepping out of the van wearing Mark’s shirt. You took the offered blunt from his fingers and tilted your head back, sighing out the smoke. “I like it.”

“You would,” Jeno said dryly, noting the wobble in your step.

“You should,” sang Mark, his eyes full of stars.

You smiled at him, brushing your hand over his shoulder before heading back into the van to get warm again.

Mark looked back to his friends who were watching him expectantly, and said, “She rode me.”

“We heard," mumbled Jeno.

Haechan added, "You owe us. Big time."

Mark’s cheeks were extra rosy. He scratched his head awkwardly and followed you back inside the van, closing the door behind him. You were surprised when he rushed up behind you and tangled his arms around your waist, steering you to face him.

You kissed him back when he pressed his lips to yours, over and over, things heating up again inside the van.

Mark thought he would be content with a kiss, but then he wanted another. His heart started to race and his pulse began to throb, among other things.

But as usual, his mouth got in the way. “What are we?” Mark blurted.

“A bunch of horny teenagers,” you replied between kisses.

“I meant you and me.”

“I know what you meant.”

Mark broke away, locking eyes with you. He wanted a real answer.

You exhaled loudly. “You can’t ask me that right now.”

His brows stitched. “Why not?”

You slipped away from him, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and answered gently, “Because we still have two months of driving around as a band.”

“The band comes first,” Mark said in defeat.

You nodded.

Mark was disappointed, but he took it like a champ. At least, he tried to. The sadness in his eyes was soul-crushing.

You watched him approach you and sink to his knees between your legs, getting his arms around you again. You took his face in your hands tenderly and kissed him. “Ask me again when we get home.”

He nodded.

You kissed him a little more intensely and whispered, “Promise me you’ll ask.”

“I promise,” Mark said firmly, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “When the summer is over, you’re all mine.”

I was already yours, Mark. And I would be yours until the day I died.

#nct #nct smut #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut

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