#Enemies To Lovers

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

���Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr @cabingrlandrandomcrap @kats72 @glitchquake @zippythewondersquirrel @ameliariddle @alexakeyloveloki @lovingchoices14

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki smut #loki comedy #island fic #deserted island #alone with loki #enemies to lovers #Avenger!Loki #Avengers #Island AU #Smutty loki #island fever #thor #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #rescue fic #deserted island trope #marvel loki

[sunnynwanda]

Heal me

Warnings: slightly suggestive/ kissing, touch starved Villain, sort of hurt/comfort.

Based on and inspired by this wonderful idea by the amazing @aflyingsheepnamedrose. I had to write this, it was simply eating me alive.

Villain's body hits the wall, sliding down onto the concrete floor with a loud thud. They groan, every limb of theirs aching with dull pain and acute yearning. They cough out blood but cannot stop themself from thinking about the gentle brush of Hero's fingertips against their skin that will follow once the 'battle' is over. They've been deprived of it for far longer than they could handle, their starved body longing for the pain to be followed by a touch.

Hero lands next to them, fisting their shirt to drag them into a standing position. Villain sags against the wall, heaving through every breath. Yet their injuries have positively nothing to do with the dire need flaming in their veins. It's severe, all-consuming, and it terrifies the living light out of them. Villain craves Hero's touch with the entirety of their being. Villain craves Hero. 

"Think you should surrender?" Hero suggests, eyeing Villain with a hint of concern in their bright blue eyes. Their fingers feel almost tender when they curl around Villain's chin, lifting it up so their intent gaze can inspect their buttered face.

"Not yet," Villain gargles, blood filling their mouth again. They turn away, spitting it out before meeting Hero's eyes, a pleasant thrill feeling their lungs at the sight of Hero's distress.

"I won't..." Hero wants to say they won't keep up the vicious cycle they found themselves in. They won't fight Villain anymore - only to spend the following night healing them with their touch. Hero wants Villain to know that they can't keep hurting them, that it tears them apart in ways they never imagined possible, and that it is the reason they've been avoiding them. That they cannot handle witnessing - worse yet, inflicting - their pain. They want to say that Villain doesn't need injuries to have Hero showering them with kisses. They want to tell Villain they need them safe and sound, not beaten and buttered. Hero needs Villain.

But they don't say that. They can't. Instead, they threaten. "Surrender, or I won't heal you anymore."

Villain has to restrain themself from outright begging. They press their lips together, nodding shortly, and avert their eyes, gulping as their mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Hero's hands let go of their shirt and Villain exhales shakily, shutting their eyes to suppress the shudder raking through their entire being. Something inside them quivers, helpless and desperate. Villain decides to call it disappointment, but then Hero's arms wrap around them, picking them off the ground with close to no effort.

Villain knows it's not disappointment, because the quiver in their chest grows stronger, thrashing against their ribs with unabated persistence. They refuse to open their eyes as Hero carries them all the way to their apartment and straight to their bedroom.

They lay Villain down on their bed and sit beside them, cupping their jaw with a cold hand. "Vil..." Hero's voice is small, and - if Villain didn't know better - they'd think it sounds choked up. "Look at me."

Villain groans, peeling their eyes open. The sight that greets them leaves their heart throbbing in their throat. Hero's eyes are brimming with tears, and their lips are trembling when they lean in, pressing them to Villain's forehead. They pull away, only to plant a kiss on Villain's split eyebrow, then shift to their bruising cheekbone, over to the other one - the small cut on it heals in mere seconds.

Villain watches them with bated breath, biting the inside of their cheek to keep any sounds from escaping them. Hero's hand on their jaw moves, tilting their head up as their lips trail down Villain's neck, ghosting over their collarbones. Villain registers a wet sensation on their skin but fails to process what it is until it drips down the base of their throat, leaving a damp trail in its wake.

Another drop hits Villain's burning skin, then one more. Their nemesis chooses to ignore them as their hands make quick work of Villain's shirt, pushing it open and trailing their lips down Villain's chest, fixing a broken rib back into place.

"Hero?" Villain can't help it when their hands take hold of Hero's head, lifting it off their body. Their tear-stained face wrecks Villain's heart worse than any injury could.

"I can't." Hero mutters in explanation, leaning down to plant another tender kiss onto Villain's feverish skin, their hands gripping their enemy's sides with uncharacteristic urgency. "I can't..."

"Hero, please," the pleading tone of their voice seems to snap Hero out of it as they withdraw hastily, their eyes widening. Villain moves to sit up.

"I'm sorry, I was... t-that was the last cut, y-you're all good now," Hero stutters out, panic contorting their face into a mask of horror. "I didn't mean to overstep."

Villain can't help the chuckle that escapes them at that conclusion. Their fingers brush through Hero's hair, earning a soft sigh from their nemesis. "I wasn't exactly trying to protest the kisses."

"You were not?" Hero repeats, their gaze finally daring to land on Villain as the criminal shakes their head. "I thought you wanted me to stop." Hero confesses, their head dropping, only to be brought back up again.

"No way in hell." The words fly out of their mouth before Villain can process them. They cannot bring themself to care about the consequences at this point. Not when Hero's hands are rubbing their sides unconsciously, not when they can still feel Hero's tears on their skin. "If you ask me, you don't have to stop, ever."

"What?" Hero's gaze darts back and forth between Villain's lips and eyes, wheels turning in their head as Villain watches them with a small smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. They bite their lip to keep their grin under control but fail miserably.

"You heard me," Villain states, causing Hero to roll their eyes. "Why were you crying?"

Hero freezes like a deer in headlights. Villain lets out an amused chuckle, still holding Hero's face in their hands. And, when Hero doesn't respond, Villain decides to take matters into their own hands.

"Can you heal one more cut for me?" They ask, barely containing the cheeky smile threatening to break onto their face any minute now.

Hero nods, their expression shifting into that of worry. "Yes. 'Course I can. Where?"

Villain doesn't utter a word, instead pointing to their bitten lip. They also give up on keeping a neutral expression, allowing the smug smirk to stretch in full glory.

Now that leaves Hero speechless and gaping. For several seconds, they stare at Villain in disbelief, their heart pounding heavily in their ribcage.

"Are you gonna let me bleed o-"

Villain's playful remark is cut short when Hero lunges at them, connecting their lips with more force than Villain anticipated. They fall onto their back, with Hero landing on top of them as they focus on healing Villain's 'dreadful' injury with painstaking dedication.

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

#hero and villain #villain x hero #hero #villain #villain and hero #hero/villain #touch starved #healing abilities #enemies to lovers #enemies to idiots to lovers #idiots in love #enemies by day #lovers by night #yearning #slightly suggestive #kissing #hero x villain community #hero x villain #hurt/comfort #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #female writers #women writers #requests open #sunnynwanda

[avtrxxx]

Did you?

Neteyam (24) x female human reader (20)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, mafia au, forced marriage, size difference

Neteyam was a powerful mafia prince, feared by many in the criminal underworld. He was known for his harsh and ruthless tactics, always getting what he wanted through violence and intimidation. But what he didn't expect was to have you as his soon-to-be-wife. You are the mafia princess of the human mafia. And as to make a bond, both mafias decided to marry Neteyam, the oldest mafia prince and you, the youngest princess.

"This tawtute is gonna be my maye?" Neteyam tilts his head, looking down at you, his voice filled with amusement. He's gonna give you a hard time.

"Can you stop calling me that?" You asked back.

"Tawtute? What's wrong with that? It is what you are after all" Neteyam teased, still amused by your reaction.

"Yes, but I don't like it."

"Well then, I'll call you my little human" Neteyam smirked, he was enjoying you reaction way too much. "You gotta admit, it suits you"

You sighed through your nose, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Look, I'm not little, you're a freak of nature. Secondly, it doesn't suit me."

"Awww, are you mad because I'm taller than you?" Neteyam mocked, standing straight, he was more than three heads taller than you. "You are small, I can wrap my hands around your waist so easy. If that's not little then what is"

"Your dick."

"What did you say?" Neteyam's voice remained smug as ever, but now his tail was whipping aggressively behind him. He was fuming, though he'd never show it.

"I said you have a small dick. Why? Did I tell some truth?" It was your turn to smirk.

"I'd like to test that theory" Neteyam said, he was so hot-headed, he was now in your face. His voice had become harsher and more intimidating, as he got closer to the girl. He was so close you could smell his breath and see his sharp fangs.

With one arm, Neteyam picked you up like a child and pushed you against the wall, his body looming over hers. He was a big man, with muscles on each part of his body, a wide chest, broad shoulders and huge biceps that were almost twice the size of your waist. His face was close enough to you to make you shiver.

Your face flushed with a red color, your heart beat quickened. The way he was showing his dominance was so hot.

He could feel your body trembling, he was amused and delighted by how intimidated you seemed, this small human woman. With one hand, he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so he could look into your eyes.

But you didn't. Your gaze was on the floor.

"Why are you avoiding eye contact? Am I that frighteningly handsome to you?" Neteyam said in a mocking voice. "Or are you scared? Do you just see me as this big monster? Are my muscles too intimidating, my big body perhaps overwhelming?" he looked down and chuckled, his voice returning to it's usual sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes at him.

"I thought so. Humans are so weak and vulnerable, the moment they see someone who's physically stronger than them. They lose all hope, they become scared babies. Pathetic" He lowered his hand from your face and let you down.

For the rest of the day, you avoided him. But little did you know you're sleeping with him from now on.

At night when you were back at your room, you could see a shadow standing at the door. Neteyam was standing with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face as he was watching you without you knowing. The door was slightly open, so he was able to look in.

You changed your clothes into pijamas and let yourseld fall on the bed.

Neteyam could see every movement you made from where he was standing. He was pleased to see that you were finally done with your day and going to bed. He could hear a soft yawn before you settled into bed, he was gonna wait a bit longer before making his move.

A few more minutes had passed, the moonlight was making its way to the room where this beautiful, tiny human lay. Neteyam finally made his move, he opened the door slowly, shutting it after he had stepped in, making absolutely no noise.

He could see you sleeping soundly on the bed. He closed the distance between you quickly, he could feel the heat of your body, as he stood above you, over your vulnerable and weak form.

He then slid under the covers of the bed and placed his body next to yours, his warm body almost suffocating yours. He laid there still for a moment, just enjoying the moment of them being this close to each other.

Then he wrapped his arms tightly around you, bringing your body so close to his. He was so much larger than yours, his muscles completely overpowering you, his arm wrapped around you and the other one going across your body, trapping you in his embrace.

"what?" You mumbled, half asleep. You rubbed your eyes, looking around you.

"Wake up, little human" he mumbled out. He squeezed you tighter, his muscles now pressing you body down and making it a bit harder to breath. You gasped, the air getting kicked out of your lungs.

"You think I'm just gonna let you sleep in peace? Not a chance" He said, his deep and rough voice filled with dominance. He was enjoying every moment of his power over the little human, who he saw as no threat.

"Lose it a bit.." you struggled to breathe, lightly but repeatedly tapping his bicep.

"Oh you wanna tap me? You wanna fight me off of you? Sorry, little human, that's not happening" Neteyam squeezed you tighter and you could feel his other bicep flex as he flexed his whole muscle. He laughed as he felt you tapping. You were so weak in his eyes, and he liked it.

You tried pushing him away, pushing on him with all your strength but he wouldn't bulge. He was far stronger.

"You're so weak. I love it. You have no hope in fighting me. You really are just a small little human. You're powerless against a strong man" He laughed, tightening his grip around you. It was becoming extremely difficult for you to breathe, especially with his hot body pressed against yours.

Seeing there's no other way to escape this uncomfortable situation, you bit him, sinking your teeth into his thick skin.

Neteyam let out a muffled growl from the sudden pain. He was surprised you could hurt him, but he didn't mind it. It was actually kinda hot. He squeezed you tighter, he now wanted to see this little human fight back even harder. He liked a challenge.

You let go of his skin when you saw it didn't really have an effect on him. You wiggled around, trying to make yourself more room. In return, Neteyam tightened his grip on you, his muscles bulging with power. "Neteyam, I have a fucking dagger with me. Don't make me use it on you." you threatened him, trying to make him feel somehow vulnerable.

"You're gonna stab me? You really are a little savage. A very cute little savage" Neteyam squeezed you tighter, enjoying the thrill of this fight. "I'd love to see you try it"

When you wanted to lower your hand in your pocket and grab it, Neteyam's hand was already close to it. He lunged his hand inside and took your dagger, throwing it away somewhere in your room.

Neteyam chuckled as he saw the small dagger being thrown on the floor. It was no threat to him, but he was impressed by your attempt. The fight between you was starting to really turn him on, you were not as weak as he originally thought and that excited him.

Neteyam suddenly had an idea, and a smirk made its way on his face. He loosened his grip around you and as soon as you tried moving away, he grabbed the side of your neck, squeezing tight.

You let out a painful moan from the pinch of his fingers. Neteyam looked surprised by the reaction but he didn't care. You were weak and your vulnerable spot was your nape.. He looked into your eyes and gave you a quick playful wink. He then pulled you back towards him and squeezed her even tighter than before.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" you cursed, the pain in the nape of your neck becoming too much.

"So hot when you swear..." Neteyam's voice was deeper than before and his eyes were filled with desire. His muscles flexed with every movement he made, his grip was getting tighter each moment he squeezed her against his body. He wanted you to struggle more so he could feel the heat of your body.

"It hurts, you dumb fuck!" You said, lifting your hands up to his huge one that was holding you in your place by your nape.

"Aww, it hurts, does it?" Neteyam smirked and squeezed harder, his grip around your nape was getting tight. He wanted this to hurt his little human, he was getting really turned on by your struggling. Your neck and waist couldn't compare to his strength.

You squeezed his large hand, in hopes to get him off of you. But he didn't move nor did he want to. Then, you dig your nails into his hand, leaving marks behind.

Neteyam smirked again, he really liked it when this tiny human tried to fight him off of you. His huge body towering over yours. Your nails barely did anything to him, he didn't let you go despite you trying. Instead, his muscles flexed as he squeezed you even tighter, his grip getting tighter and tighter.

"Go on, beg me to let you go. I'm not listening till I hear you beg for me"

"I beg you! Fucking let go of my nape."

Neteyam smirked, you was begging him now and he enjoyed it. His muscles relaxed as he let go of your nape. "Good girl" his voice was deep and sarcastic, he was enjoying every second of this interaction between you, you had never made him this excited and turned on.

You quickly lifted yourself off of your bed, standing up and you went right to the door. You put your hand on the door handle and rolled it before you pulled the door towards you, opening it.

"Get out." you said calmly, not taking your eyes off of him.

Neteyam smirked again. If you thought he was leaving just because you said so, you were truly naive. "As if you can tell me what to do. I'm not going anywhere so get back in the bed"

"We're not married yet and this is MY room so get the fuck out!" you spat in his face, standing tall (short) with pride.

"Well we are going to become married soon, so this might as well start being my room too" Neteyam crossed his arms. He got up from the bed and stood beside the door, "I told you I'm not going anywhere, so you have two options here: You either accept that I'll be sleeping with you tonight or I'll drag you back to the bed and we can cuddle. Your choice."

As he spoke, Neteyam already made his way to your bed. He threw some pillows in the same spot before he laid down, resting his head on the mountain of pillows. He got hold of the blanket and pulled it over his body, covering himself.

"Hmm" Neteyam was getting more turned on by her stubbornness, he didn't like weak women, so when she kept resisting he wanted her more and more. He was laying there on the bed with a smug grin, his body stretching across it, it was so big he took the majority of the bed.

"I'm not gonna sleep with you." you said bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. You wanted nothing more but for him to disappear from your room. Seeing him all spread out on your bed and taking all of the space made you want to slap him hard and send him across the room.

"You can say that all you want, but you know, just as well as I do, that we will be sharing this bed together" Neteyam smirked, his arms spread out on the bed as if he was claiming it for himself, and if this small human woman was gonna sleep next to him, you had to accept that he was gonna hug up on you the whole night.

"We won't." you grabbed a blanket and sat on the sofa, making yourself comfortable. You wrapped the blanket around you, it being the only source of warmth for tonight. "Go to sleep now, Sleeping Beauty." your tone was filled with amusement as you eyed him, taking in his big frame.

You were determined to make your point and it was hot. Neteyam saw you on the sofa and smirked. It was like you wanted him to approach you and drag you back on the bed. He liked the playing hard to get, you made him want to chase you and that was thrilling.

"I'm not going to sleep till you get back on the bed with me" he then crossed his arms and lifted his upper body, leaning against the wall.

"Then you'll stay awake the entire night." you whispered, already getting ready for sleep as the light was already turned off. You wanted to sleep now. You need your beauty sleep, not some jerk who annoys you only.

Neteyam had a smug grin on his face. He then folded his arms and tilted his head, "Just let me cuddle you. I promise nothing more. Just this once?"

"You won't try to kill me?" you opened your eyes and your voice was barely audible.

Neteyam smirked, his eyes flashed, he seemed to consider yoir question for a second before he finally let out a laugh. "Kill you? I'm not going to kill you. I may be a mafia prince but I'm not dumb enough to kill the woman I'm about to marry. Now get over here and let me cuddle you"

"You come and take me. Weren't you saying that you're strong?" you smirked back, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. He said he is strong, so why not let him prove it? You weren't heavy after all, but you were too lazy to get your ass up.

"Hmm" Neteyam smirked, you were right. You were daring him to come take you by force. You didn't know what you had just started. He pushed himself off the bed and then walked towards the sofa. He crouched down and got on the level with you, his eyes looking at you and his body almost bigger than the sofa itself.

"You dare me to take you by force, do you?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Alright, that was a dumb question." he let out another laugh as he stood up, he looked at the small woman's frame and smiled at the challenge, it was gonna be fun. He walked towards you and suddenly wrapped his arms around your small frame, he squeezed you tightly and lifted you up in one go, "There, I took you by force, happy?" he smirked.

"Very. Now get me to bed." you playfully commanded. His grip was suffocating but you couldn't blame him. He maybe didn't notice how strong he was.

Neteyam smirked, he could feel how strong his grip was and how you barely had enough breath to speak the words. "You are really asking me to get you to bed?" he laughed, before walking towards the room and getting on the bed with you, he then placed you gently beside him and he looked at you, he enjoyed the way you were breathing heavily now. "Happy? I took you by force and brought you to bed, I think that deserves some sort of reward, don't you think?"

"And what do you want?" you sighed. You already knew what he desired for but you wanted to hear him beg for it.

"Do I have to be so direct? You should know what I want," Neteyam smirked, he leaned next to you and he spoke softly, right next to your ear, "I want a kiss" he looked into your eyes, his bright yellow ones flashing with desire.

"You won't get one." you said so casually that it actually hurt him, but just for a moment. Neteyam liked when you played hard to get.

"What if I take it?" he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and his body heat making it even hotter, his eyes never leaving yours and his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him.

"You can't force your soon-to-be-wife like that. You'll scare her away." you mocked him, your eyes flashing with amusement. You liked how easily you could turn him into a begging mess without him even knowing.

"Hmm, that may be true, but my instincts are telling me to do this anyway" He leaned closer to you, his body heating you up with every inch he moved closer and closer. Then, he stopped and he whispered, "Are you sure I can't force you?"

"It won't be enjoyable." you explained, your breath getting heavier. You thought he was just messing around but he did want a kiss. Now it was your turn to get shy. You didn't want to kiss him. No. You wanted to get rid of him...then why did the thought of kissing him trigger something inside you?

"Oh but it will be." Neteyam smirked, then he grabbed you by the waist again and pulled you even closer to him. His breath was hot on your neck and his hands slid around your body, one on your side the other on your stomach. He leaned in even more, his big body pressed firmly against yours. "Tell me how much you hate this" he whispered into your ear, his face so close to yours, he could see every detail of your features.

You could feel his hot breath against your skin and how wet he made you. His deep, raspy voice made you want to clench your thighs together but couldn't, due to him having his leg in between yours. He wanted to kiss you, to crush his lips against yours but you didn't want to...

Did you?

#neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fanart #neteyam fic #neteyam fluff #neteyam art #neteyam angst #neteyam atwow #neteyam avatar #neteyam twow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x human #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam smut #neteyam enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #forced marriage #mafia au #avatar mafia au

[arealphrooblem]

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 7

Hey guys! Sorry it's been like a million years since I updated anything! I got burned out for a while and I'm slowly getting back to it. Hopefully with summer break looming, you'll see more of me!

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

Part one here

Part six here

"What is this?”

It looked harmless, a small metal rectangular wrist band with no buttons or engraving or adornment of any kind. She didn’t trust it, regardless, not that that mattered to Rook, who kept his explanations to himself as he grabbed her hand. She tried to jerk it back, but his grip turned bruising and iron tight as he latched it shut.  

It hugged tightly on her, a nearly imperceptible hum against her skin. Only a tiny seam remained on the bottom, with no button or latch or catch to open it.

“What is it?” she demanded, swallowing down a flutter of panic.

Rook rolled his eyes. “Relax, princess. It’s just a tracker.”

“A tracker?”

“Yeah. Consider it your freedom. Now you can go anywhere you want and no one has to worry about you slipping out to somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Are you going to come fetch me if I go somewhere I shouldn’t?”

“No. I’m just going to push a button and an electric current will take you out until someone finds you.”

He gazed back, utterly impassive, and Val couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare her or not. She refused to be cowed though.

“How strong of a current are we talking about?” she asked

A smirk spread slowly across his face. “Why don’t you get near an airport and find out? If it doesn’t kill you, then you’ll have your answer.”

Val jut her chin up, meeting his smirk with a glare. “Do you get a kick out of trying to make me afraid? Does it make you feel tough?”

He snorted and stepped closer to her. She stood stock still as he linked their arms together.

“You’re in enemy territory, Val,” he murmured, ducking his head down close to her ear, like he was sharing a secret.  “I’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “My king wants you down for lunch in his office. I’ll show you the way.”

The king’s office looked much the same as it did when he was Eugene the Prime Minister. Papers scattered in random piles, post it notes scribbled with cryptic notes only he understood. Reminders taped on walls, the desk, the door.

A table was cleared off, the papers clearly dumped on the desk. A spread of soup and sandwiches sat on it, the king sitting in one of the chairs, waiting. Val was hit with a pang of nostalgia, because this set up looked exactly like the ones they had during campaign season. She didn’t know if he did it deliberately or if this was just how he ran his life.

“Afternoon, Val,” he said with a smile. “I see you have your tracker now.”

“And potential execution device,” she added dryly.

He shrugged. “Only a stupid person would need to worry about the electric shock and you are not stupid.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

He smiled again, ignoring her sarcasm. “Have a seat.”

She reluctantly joined him and helped herself to a sandwich, knowing this whole charade was just to watch her eat. Rook did not join them, preferring to lean against the wall next to the king. It felt a little unnerving to eat under both of their stares but she knew there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t.

And she had to admit, the food was painfully delicious.  

“You now control the lock on your door,” the king said (Aris? It still didn’t feel right but neither did Eugene). “You may stay or leave your room as you please. All unlocked areas of the castle are open to you, as well as the grounds. If you wish to head into the city, Rook will escort you.”

Rook’s mouth fell open in outrage. “You cannot be serious! I babysit her enough as it is and you want me to take her out for ice cream and shopping? Who is protecting you while I run bullshit errands with her?”

“Hey! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have a shopping addiction,” she snapped.

“Like you wouldn’t jump at the chance to blow all the king’s treasury just to fuck us over.”

“What the hell am I going to be buying to drain it — a super yacht?”

“Children, please.” The king — Aris — held up a hand. “It’s not an ideal situation for any of us, but the two of you will have to give each other a little faith.”

Val and Rook let out twin snorts of derision and then shot each other matching glares.

“As I was saying,” Aris said with a warning look, “you have been given a probationary amount of freedom, Val.”

“Probationary?” So this was temporary?

“Yes. Your privileges will change depending on your actions. If you stay obedient, prove yourself, then you freedoms will grow. If you try to circumvent your restrictions, you will lose your freedoms and live in a cell much less cozy than the rooms I’ve given you.”

Obedient. Like a toddler. Like a dog. 

Not for the first time did helpless rage well up in her throat like acid. So many retorts and screams crowded her mouth that it rendered her speechless, unable to choose which to say first and terrified to say any of them.

Eug— Aris — looked at her in such smug satisfaction, as if proud of himself for bestowing a phenomenal gift. If Rook wasn’t in the room, Val could have hit him. Her fingers curled in on themselves to fight the temptation regardless.

“Do you have any questions?” Aris tilted his head slightly, studying her.

She used to love having his full attention on her — something made rare and precious because of his busy schedule and bouts of scatterbrained day dreaming. Right now it made her skin crawl, adding fuel to the feeling of constantly being under surveillance, never able to relax.

“Can I go now?” she asked tightly.

His gaze ducked down to her half-eaten lunch. “You haven’t finished your food.”

The rage leaped up, like a kerosene drenched campfire. She felt reckless and wild with it and without a second thought, flipped her plate off the table to watch it shatter to the floor, food spraying over the lush carpet.

“I’m done,” she said. “Now?”

She had no idea what her face looked like at that moment, but whatever Aris saw on it made him sit back in his seat.

“Yes,” he said slowly, warily. “Of course.”

Val stood so far that her chair fell backwards. “Thank you,” she bit out, dripping venom, before striding out the door.

She had no idea where she was headed, and she didn’t care. Val picked a direction and walked as fast as she could towards it. If it led her to a so-called restricted section of the palace, then maybe that would put her out of her misery.

The padded footsteps sound too close and too late to react before a hand grabbed her shoulder. Val whirled around, fist striking out in pure instinct at the warm body behind her. In less than a second, that body gripped her wrist and shoved her against the wall of the hallway.

Rook.

Of course.

“Someone is very cranky today,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk.

“Let me go,” she snarled, pushing ineffectively against him.

Rook complied, releasing the bruising grip on her wrist and taking a wide step back, hands up in mock surrender.

“Not many people can scare the king, but I think you managed it just then,” he said.

“What the hell do you want? You have a tracker now. You don’t need to stalk me anymore.”

“We never finished our tour. I wouldn’t want you wandering somewhere you shouldn’t and getting electrocuted on your first day.”

“I’ll figure it out on my own, thanks.”

Rook gave her that same kind of stare Aris did — an assessment. Complete with head tilt. They must spend a lot of time together.

“You’re very angry for someone who was just given a significant amount of freedom that they quite frankly don’t deserve,” he said slowly.

She gave him a poisonous look. “I am not talking about this with you.”

And now that smirk again. “Thank god. I’m not paid to be a feelings person. But I think I know what you need.”

“A long walk off a tall cliff?”

He snorted. “Tempting. But no. Follow me and find out.”

It was probably a stupid decision to follow the most untrustworthy person she’d ever met, but having more opportunities to hate Rook offered her a welcome distraction. So, against all sanity, Val followed him down to an elevator and watched him push the basement button.

“Is that where you keep the torture chambers?” she asked, half joking, half . . .not joking.

“Sometimes it feels that way,” he muttered back.

The elevator dinged and opened to gleaming wooden floors and bright lights. It looked like the reception of a swanky business more than a typical basement. Down a short hallway sat an interior room lined with windows and inside sat various mats, weights, and other equipment.

“You brought me to the gym?” she asked dubiously.

“Yep.”

He made a bee line to a tall metal cabinet and pulled out boxing gloves. “Catch.”

Too fast for her to react, they hit Val square in the face and fell to the floor. She sent him another glare as he snickered before bending down to pick them up.

“You want me to hit something?”

Which actually sounded great, come to think of it.

“I want you to hit me.”

Oh even fucking better.

It felt too good to be true. But Val watched as he pulled out two wide padded circles and fitted them over his palms before he stepped onto one of the mats.

“You gonna put them on or are you chickening out?”

She yanked them onto her hands, their weight surprisingly heavy and then followed him onto the mat.

Rook held up his hands in the mock surrender pose.

“Hit these as hard as you can.”

“You’re serious?” She eyed him dubiously. “What if I hit you in the face?”

“You won’t.”

“You sure? It seems real tempting.”

He grinned. “The day you land a hit on me, I’ll smuggle you back home myself.”

As much as she wanted to deck his face, Val knew a trap when she heard one. Instead, she followed his instructions, landing a blow square against the right hand pad.

He didn’t even budge.

“Come on, Val, I know that’s not all you got. You were so full of rage earlier. Don’t tell me it left already.”

Oh, it didn’t. But she felt nervous putting her full effort in. Either it would hurt him and he’d make her pay or it would be pathetic and he’d mock her.

“You can’t laugh,” she said.

“Oh, I’m going to laugh. Now fucking hit me already.”

She took a deep breath and then slammed her fist against the pad with all her might. He never lost his footing, but she was pleased to see his body sway a fraction.

“Much better. I knew you had it in you. Do it again.”

“What’s the point of this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Stress relief. I love hitting things when I’m mad. And if you’re hitting me then you’re not hitting my king. So come on, Val. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He asked and she delivered. Val channeled all the injustice, the fear, the grief that the last week had brought her into her fists, driving them over and over into Rook’s padded hands. She didn’t stop, not when her arms started to shake, not when sweat soaked her back, not when a lancing pain hit her shoulder with each impact. It was mindless violence with no victim and it blocked out everything else.

“Ok, okay, Val. That’s enough.”

His voice echoed distantly and she dismissed it instantly. He took a step back and she chased him. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, trapping her arms against her sides.

“That’s enough Val,” he said in her ear.

She was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, her chest burning with it. But with each slowed breath, exhaustion threaded itself through her limbs and tugged. Eventually she slumped against his chest, happy to let him take all the weight of her. Even then he did not budge.

She was too tired to be angry now.

“Your form is absolute dog shit,” he said, his grip cautiously loosening. “But you have some potential. I could train you, if you wanted.”

“Train me?” With supreme effort, she pulled away from and turned to face him. “Train me in what?”

“Boxing. Mixed martial arts. Basic self defense. You can have your pick.”

“You want to teach me how to fight?” She crossed her arms. “Is this some kind of trap? What’s the catch?”

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no catch. It would get you in shape, get your mind off things. Give you some sense of control.”

“And then I could use it against you.”

He had the gall to laugh at that, head thrown back. “Not in a million fucking years.”

“You think I could never be a threat to you?” Now she felt insulted. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

Rook rolled his eyes. “The scariest people I’ve ever met have been women. But a few weeks or months of the basics is never going to match years of intensive training. If you ever manage to hit me, it’s because I let you for your pride.”

He held out his hands for her gloves and she pulled them off with surprising reluctance.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way back to your room. You need a shower.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

But a tiny flicker of gratitude wormed its way through her chest as she followed him back to the elevator. The exercise had cleared her head. She felt soothed, the tightness in her chest dissipated. Rook undoubtedly had ulterior motives for helping her, but he still could have let her drown in her own rage until she did something stupid that he’d gleefully punish her for.

Instead he gave her a much needed outlet.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Let me know in a comment if you want to be tagged!

Taglist

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #villain x civilian #original fiction #writeblr #named characters #kidnapped by the boss

[stillfertile]

um… 😳

x

#I MEAN #ENEMIES TO LOVERS #ENFORCER/RAT #CAN ANYONE HEAR ME #brad marchand #pat maroon #boston bruins

[sweetblinginrose]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖜𝖔,

(OS Eddie Munson x fem!reader geek)

summary: The girl goes in search of answers and ends up with the metalhead's cock in her throat... who would have thought…

word count: 8,3k +

warnings: obv +18, rivalry, ingestion of alcohol and joints, almost gave Sinclair a withey, spanking, blowjob in public.

a/n: hey guuurls, i wrote a second part since @alastorssimp asked for it and i reconsidered it. not sure if it’ll be as good as you said the first part was, but i think it’s alright, ig. the problem is the translation. if there’s anything you don’t get, let me know.

oh, and sorry for taking so long, i’m busy with my exams hehe.

kisses!!

oh and don't copy my idea, it's my own huh 🦄

before reading this part, you have to read this one!

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

In the darkness of the room, you and the long-haired boy lay in an oasis of intimacy, surrounded by an ocean of sheets that kept the secrets of your most vulnerable moments. The sheets, wrinkled and disordered, were a canvas of memories, impregnated with the aroma of tobacco that mixed with the freshness of the night and the sweet vestige of recently consummated sex.

His room, a sanctuary of orderly chaos, exuded warmth despite its disarray. Magazines with their folded pages and worn edges lay scattered on the floor, testimony to many nights of reading and lively discussions. The posters, hung with a nonchalance that bordered on art, danced on the hard plastic walls of the trailer, each telling a story, each a window to a different world.

The laughter you shared, free and genuine, rose and filled every corner, weaving a melody exclusive to your duo. The night breeze, complicit in your union, slid through the half-open window, shaking the faded and torn curtains that hung like banners of a forgotten kingdom. The air carried with it the characteristic aroma of the Forest Hills Trailer Park, a mix of freshness and adventure, which caressed your bare skin, causing a shiver that was both anticipation and delight.

But then, reality knocked on the door in the form of insistent knocks. It was Tom, his voice filtering through the plastic like a discordant melody, his tone a mix of confusion and amusement. His question, thrown into the wind with the nonchalance of someone who has enjoyed the most earthly pleasures, broke the spell of the moment. "Hey, lovebirds! What are you doing in there that your hair can't be seen?" He exclaimed, his laugh a laugh that mixed with the smoke and foam of the shared beers. It was a reminder that, although the outside world continued to spin, in that room, in that moment, only the two of you existed.

You stood up suddenly, as if propelled by an invisible spring, in the middle of the darkness that hung over the room like a thick blanket. Your heart pounded in your chest with the force of a war drum, each beat an echo in the vast cavern of your anxiety. The room, previously a sanctuary of laughter and whispers, now seemed like a mausoleum of silence and shadows, only interrupted by the gasping of two souls that had danced on the edge of the abyss.

Your eyes, two desperate beacons in the night, opened wide, capturing the pale moonlight filtering through the window. The reality of your nakedness, and that of Eddie at your side, hit you with the rawness of an inescapable truth. You remembered, with a clarity that hurt, each step that had led you to intertwine your destinies in the most intimate way. Fear, that old acquaintance, slithered across your skin, a cold snake that threatened to strangle your thoughts. The senses, now sharp as knives, tensed as they captured every whisper, every creak that the old house decided to give away. Fear had transformed into panic, a savage beast that threatened to devour what little composure you had left. You could feel, almost see, your friends' questioning gaze through the closed door, their imaginary eyes piercing the plastic like x-rays.

In an act of desperation, your eyes searched frantically for something to cover your nakedness, but the room offered only the promise of deeper exposure. The feeling of vulnerability was overwhelming, a giant crushing you to the ground with its mountain-like weight. The certainty that something shameful was about to happen paralyzed you, a pillar of salt condemned to look back.

You and Eddie looked at each other, and in his eyes you found the reflection of your own fear, a mirror where anxiety danced with shame. The footsteps outside the room echoed with the certainty of an approaching doom, and in that moment, you understood what it meant to be truly trapped, like on Elm Street, in a true nightmare.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you propelled yourself upwards, attempting to defy gravity and the circumstances that had brought you to that unforgiving ground. But your legs, betrayed by exhaustion and accumulated tension, did not respond as you expected. Instead of standing tall in triumph, you collapsed, your knees hitting the worn and stained carpet that told stories of countless encounters and disagreements. The sharp pain that shot through your knees was a cruel reminder of your humanity, an echo of the vulnerability you had tried to ignore. Your legs trembled, shaken by spasms that robbed you of any illusion of control. Still, in an act of desperation, you extended your arm, looking for the garment that would restore a minimum of decorum, but you only found emptiness. You couldn't find your favorite panties...

With your heart pounding in your chest, you resigned yourself to the urgency of the moment and focused on putting on your bra, feeling the cold sensation of the bonding metal against your bare back. Every click of the closure reminded you of the stark reality of the situation you found yourself in.

Embarrassment mixed with urgency as you wrapped yourself in the bra, feeling the stretchy fabric hug your torso tightly, offering you a modicum of protection amidst the chaos around you. The absence of undergarments increased your vulnerability, but you had no time to hesitate.

In the midst of the mess, your gaze drifted to Eddie, who was awkwardly struggling to put on his pants. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, an expression of determination etched on his face despite the hair tie he held between his lips. With each tug of fabric, his face reflected a mix of urgency and desperation, as he struggled to regain a bit of dignity in the chaos of the situation. The mess you were in was palpable, but you were both determined to deal with it in the best way possible.

Tom's thuds and drunken screams intensified, reverberating against the bare walls of the room, each impact an echo of the tension building in the fog-thick air. The atmosphere was saturated with chaos, each discordant sound a note in the symphony of nocturnal anarchy. In the eye of this sonic storm, the voice of one of your friends emerged, a thread of sanity in Tom's madness. His tone was a mix of concern and drunken sarcasm, imploring him to moderate the force of his against the door, that the noise might wake the neighbors and bring consequences unwanted. His words, although tinged with alcohol, managed to cut through the chaos, granting a brief respite, a moment of calm before the storm continued. Tom, distracted by the presence of your friends, walked away from the door, his unsteady footsteps guiding him back to the dining room. There, his voice rose again, a drunken shout trying to be charming, seeking the attention of anyone willing to listen.

Meanwhile, in the stillness of the room, you stood up from the cold, hard floor. Your knees, marked by the pressure of your fall, showed a redness that spoke of the subtle but persistent pain. With movements that belied your newfound vulnerability, you grabbed your skirt and t- shirt, dressing with a haste born of necessity. Eddie, next to you, imitated your movements. He gave a dry clearing of his throat, an attempt to impose some order on the chaotic scene. Unlike you, he avoided your gaze, his attention focused on piecing together his appearance, making sure every detail was in its place. Without looking at you, his voice cut through the silence, "Everything's cool, right? Can we go out now?" You nodded, although you knew he wasn't expecting your approval. With a discreet gesture, he opened the door just enough to enter. His exit was marked by a forced smile, a façade of normality that sought to erase any hint of what had happened.

When you returned to the living room, not so welcoming, everyone's eyes focused on you. Luckily, the known animosity between the two served as a distraction from any suspicion. Tom, impatient, asked in a voice clouded by smoke and alcohol, "What took you so long?" Next to him, one of your friends was trapped in a casual hug, the smell of marijuana and alcohol permeating the air. Eddie, with the skill of a veteran in these affairs, made up an excuse on the fly, something about an item lost in a bet. The explanation, although weak, was accepted without further ado. The others, absorbed in their world of laughter and drinking, dismissed the importance of the matter and plunged back into their feast of joy and excess.

The night unfolded like a dark blanket, dotted with stars that blinked indifferently at the tension that was brewing between you and Eddie. The gazes that had previously danced together in perfect harmony were now diverted, colliding with familiar faces in the crowd. Discomfort clung to you, a second skin made of silences and unspoken words, a transparent shield that isolated you from the human warmth that surrounded you. The bustle of the small gathering became a distant hum, as each one was immersed in a sea of silent reflections and imprisoned feelings. The tension that had floated between you, a dance of veiled contempt and hidden desire, had brewed over the years, growing silently until it became an invisible giant that now separated you.

There you were, at the epicenter of an oppressive silence, as Eddie's laughter and exclamations filled the space, a sharp contrast to your internal stillness. His happiness, so pure and overflowing, was a rare sight, a light you hadn't witnessed in a long time, and the brilliance of it left you with an empty feeling, as if a part of you had faded into the darkness. "I have to go now, guys. I had a great time today, see you on Monday..." you announced, with a voice that seemed to come from afar, from someone that wasn't you. You didn't dare to look back, to face the surprise or the perplexity that could appear on their faces. You felt the weight of her gaze fixed on your back, trying to pierce the armor of your most secret thoughts.

As you left the trailer, the cool night air hit your face, a cold blow that sought to shake you out of the emotional lethargy in which you had immersed yourself. Your steps began to lead you away, each one resounding like an echo in the solitude of the night, marking the rhythm of your retreat from a world of silent confessions and secrets that would never see the light.

It was then that Lucas appeared, his presence so sudden that he almost seemed like a ghost emerging from the shadows. "I'll accompany you," he said in a voice that brooked no reply. His company was unexpected, almost uncomfortable, but there was something comforting about his presence. He was nothing more than an acquaintance, a friend of your sister, a member of the Order of the Sith, but at that moment, his presence was all you needed.

The night had become a blanket of uncertainty and unanswered questions. Lucas, with his unbalanced gait, seemed the only constant in a world that was reeling. You didn't understand why he had decided to accompany you and not Mike, who also shared the proximity of his steps to his house. The age difference between you and Lucas was an abyss of experiences and experiences, three years that at that moment seemed like an eternity.

The silence stretched between you like a suspension bridge, fragile and tense, until Lucas broke it with a simple, "Hey...". His voice was a whisper in the night, but enough to capture your full attention. Looking at him, worry washed over you; his dark skin glistened with night sweat, and his normally lively and alert eyes were half-lidded and tinted a deep red.

"Yes? Are you okay, Sinclair?" you asked, stopping in your tracks. The possibility that he had smoked marijuana assaulted you, and with it, a protective instinct you didn't know you had. Lucas looked at you, and in that moment, the vulnerability he showed was palpable.

"No, it's just... I think you're very pretty..." Sinclair's confession came with shaky honesty, his voice a fragile thread on the night breeze. He was visibly affected, dizziness painted his world with tones of uncertainty, and his body trembled slightly, although adorned with a naive smile that failed to hide his state. You ignored his words, it was not the time for flattery or the vulnerability they exuded. You approached him, noticing how he towered over you in height, a difference that now seemed trivial. “Have you smoked anything, Lucas,” you asked, worry coloring every syllable of your question.

Lucas tried to respond, but his rapid blinks and difficulty swallowing revealed more than his words. He looked around, perhaps looking for a way out of his confusion, when he suddenly lost his balance and fell to the ground. "Shit!" You exclaimed, as you crouched down next to him. You lifted him enough for him to sit, holding him steady. His eyes closed, surrendering to the sleep that called him, a dangerous mixture of alcohol and drugs had brought him to that sorry state. You looked around, searching for a solution, a refuge in the night for Sinclair. That's when you saw the 24-hour restaurant, an oasis of light and calm in the darkness. It was completely empty, as if it was waiting for you. Without hesitation, you decided it was the safe place to take Sinclair and help him recover. Carefully, you guided him towards the establishment, each step a silent promise that you wouldn't leave him alone in his time of need.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you crouched down and wrapped your arms under Sinclair's shoulders, feeling the dead weight of his body. "Come on, Sinclair, don't do this to me," you mumbled, your breathing labored by the effort. The dirt clung to your hands, and you could feel the wetness of the grass through your bare legs. "Sinclair, for the love of God, move something!" you exclaimed, as a vein on your forehead threatened to burst. Finally, with a groan that sounded more like a growl, Sinclair gained some consciousness, his eyes slowly blinking back to reality. With a superhuman effort, he managed to stand up, leaning heavily on you. They began to walk, each step a battle against gravity. “You weigh more than my sins,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood as his body tilted dangerously to one side, forcing you to compensate for the weight.

The cafeteria is filled with the hum of an old refrigerator as the only soundtrack of the night. The flickering lights from the neon sign outside filter through the blinds, casting dancing shadows over Lucas's exhausted form. His head, heavy as lead, oscillates on the edge of the abyss of sleep, leaning more and more towards the table that supports his weight.

The clock strikes 3 am, and time seems to have stopped in this forgotten corner of town. You, with a gesture of concern that you cannot hide, decide to intervene. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with eyes that have seen too many early mornings, walks silently over and places a steaming plate in front of Sinclair. It's an onion soup, with its comforting aroma and melted cheese that stretches with every spoonful, promising warmth and sustenance. Next to him, a large, cold glass water bottle lands with a thud on the table.

Lucas, shaken by the sound, raises his head with a start, his eyes blinking, trying to focus on the reality around him. "You have to eat and drink the whole bottle," he insists, with his arms crossed and a firmness in his voice that brooks no reply. It is not your responsibility to take care of him, but your conscience does not allow you to leave him to his fate.

As Sinclair obeys, he begins to regain the color in his cheeks and the lucidity in his eyes. The soup works its magic on him, and little by little, life returns to his eyes. Outside, the town is still asleep, oblivious to the small miracle that occurs inside. And you, despite your initial revulsion, can't help but feel a pang of satisfaction at seeing that, at least for tonight, you've made a difference in someone's life.

Lucas, with his mind still cloudy, clung to the fork as if it were an anchor in the middle of the storm. His eyes, glassy and distant, were lost in the abyss of the half-empty plate, where there had previously been a pile of comfort food. The cafeteria, plunged into a dead silence, seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his next move. Was Sinclair who broke the spell, his voice tearing through the silence like paper thin. "Why did you leave there? It's because you don't like Eddie, right?" he asked, as the water swirled in his glass, reflecting his still trembling hands. Your face, a canvas of contradictory emotions, was contorted into a grimace of discomfort. Memories of what had happened just an hour or two ago assaulted you, forcing your lips into a tight smile, a clear indication of your discomfort. You were convinced that you had made a mistake, that something in your behavior had caused Eddie's averted gaze and silence. "I say this because... he doesn't dislike you, quite the contrary..." Lucas continued, dragging his words with the same slowness with which he cleaned his plate with a piece of bread. The bread, now soaked in the last vestiges of soup, disappeared in his mouth, as if with each bite it could erase the tension in the air.

Surprise appeared on your face when you heard Lucas' words. "What do you say? But Eddie hates me, or at least he did," you exclaimed with an incredulous laugh, as if the idea was so absurd that it could only be cause for a joke. Your eyes drifted for a moment to the waitress, whose curious gaze rested on the both of you. With her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, she looked like a statue, a silent observer of the strange dance of your conversation. Sinclair shook his head, her gesture was firm, denying your words with a seriousness that contrasted with your joking tone. He leaned forward, closing the distance between you, as if every word she was about to say needed the confidentiality of a whisper. "Look, I'm going to tell you, but if you tell Eddie, I'll kill you before he kills me..." His voice was a thread of tension, his eyes sleepy, as if the weight of what he was Sharing would burden him deeply.

Your confusion was palpable, but you nodded, giving Lucas the signal that he had your attention. He cleared his throat, clear preparation for what was to come, and leaned even closer, as if he feared even the walls could hear. "Long before us and your sister got to high school, Eddie was already crazy about you, so it's nothing new," Sinclair whispered, with a seriousness that made you question if it was really a joke. Despite your doubts, you decided to give him your full attention. It was a hard statement to believe; your interactions had always been marked by fights and teasing, a constant push and pull that left no room for deeper feelings. But after the recent sex, you found yourself reconsidering every look and word exchanged with Eddie. What if he was trying to flirt instead of bother you? Sinclair spoke with a rapidity that reflected the urgency and nervousness of sharing secrets that should not be revealed. "Ever since we started sitting with their group at lunch, they made jokes about you, I mean, about how hot you are and all that," his words flowed like an overflowing river, full of confidences and murmurs that had been kept with him. suspicion. "Although without knowing that your sister was your sister," he continued, a wry smile playing on his lips as he remembered the collective surprise, "so, when we were offered to join The Hellfire Club and she said she belonged to The Sith Order, Eddie was perplexed." He readjusted himself on the couch, which seemed to hug him with the comfort of it, and looked you directly in the eyes. It was evident that every word he said was another piece of the puzzle he was trying to put together in front of you, a puzzle that, once completed, would change the way you viewed Eddie and possibly the entire dynamic of your social circle. Lucas looked at you with a knowing smile, his eyes. They shone with a gleam of amusement as you imagined your sister. "And since then your sister no longer sits with us, since Eddie considers her a rival of his," he said, his voice tinged with his humor. It was known that Sinclair had always been in love with her, and his tone suggested that he still harbored romantic hopes. "What I'm getting at," Lucas continued, pausing to take a long sip of water. "It's just that when Eddie wanted to see you, since, just as he said, you graduated before him because of his bad grades, he was talking to your sister so that the battles between the groups would start." His words flowed with the ease of someone sharing a long-kept secret, and you realized that your sister's constant bets were more than just games. "That's why your sister proposed so many bets," he added, with a gesture of understanding. Lucas lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, "And always, after we left the games, he would stare at you as he went, commenting on how beautiful you were, what good taste you had, and how intelligent you were." He paused dramatically, making sure you caught the importance of his next words. "Eddie is totally into you."

The revelation had left you speechless, a whirlwind of emotions washing over you as you tried to process what you had just heard. Eddie, the same Eddie that seemed like a constant in your daily life, was now intertwined with your feelings in a way you hadn't expected. A few years ago, every time you crossed the school cafeteria, your gaze unconsciously searched for his figure. Eddie, always alert, stood up as if he were waiting for you to pass, leaving a clear space for you to pass. You wondered if it was a coincidence or if, in some way, he also felt that invisible connection that united you. You remembered that time he called you a witch with a voice that was intended to be harsh, but his eyes betrayed the truth. It wasn't hate you saw in them, but a spark of fun, a lopsided smile that bordered on flirtatious. It was a game of looks and unspoken words that only the two of you seemed to understand, even though apparently, you didn't.

In the role-playing games you shared, Eddie transformed. He became the supreme narrator, his voice filling the room, creating worlds and adventures with astonishing ease. But when it was your turn, everything changed. His tone softened, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that seemed to want to decipher each of your thoughts. It was as if, in those moments, there was no one else in the room, just you and him.

Now, as you remembered those moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine, causing an involuntary blush to stain your cheeks. Sinclair's words echoed in your mind, giving you the courage to believe that, perhaps, what you felt for Eddie was reciprocated. It was a terrifying and exciting thought at the same time, a possibility that opened a new chapter in the story of your life.

Sunday slipped through scattered thoughts, like leaves blown by the autumn wind. The week became a countdown, each day marking one step closer to Friday, that day that promised practice with your group and, more importantly, Saturday, when you would have the chance to face Eddie once again.

The cabin, with its walls that whispered stories of ancient victories and defeats, welcomed you on Friday. The practice went without a hitch, each member of the group immersed in their role, building a parallel reality where anything was possible. But Saturday came with a bittersweet taste. The Hellfire Club was full, everyone except Eddie. His absence was like a vacuum that sucked the energy out of the room. You had taken care of your appearance, hoping to capture the magic of that previous night, but instead, you were met with words that fell like cold drops on your spirit. "Eddie said he didn't want to see you today," Dustin announced with a nonchalance that hurt you more than you expected. The screams of his friends echoed, a cacophony of reproaches rising like a storm. "What?" The surprise left you speechless for a moment, a pause that felt eternal. "What?! No! It's not what you think!" The boy you had helped was trying to repair the damage with hasty words. "Yes! Eddie literally said that!" Dustin insisted, causing gestures of frustration in the others, hands on their foreheads, mouths covered in an attempt to silence the truth. You didn't want to admit it, but the words affected you, a lot. After Sinclair's confession, you expected something more, something different. You then decided to put on the mask of indifference, pretending that Eddie's absence didn't matter to you, that his presence or lack of it were equally insignificant. You focused on the game, on the chips and dice, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in a maze of 'what ifs'. The game continued, but your heart was playing its own game, one where the rules were unclear and the only opponent was yourself.

Sunday dawned with a gray sky that seemed to reflect your mood. You got out of bed with the heaviness of someone carrying more than the weight of the sheets. College assignments were piled up on your desk, a mountain of words and numbers demanding your attention, but your mind was somewhere else, lost in the echo of a revelation that still echoed in your ears. With every page you turned, every problem you solved, Eddie's image was superimposed on the text, blurry and persistent. Night fell without you realizing it, and with it, the promise of a new day.

Monday came without classes, a small relief in your routine. Your mother, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you, asked you to pick up your sister from high school. You accepted, almost grateful for the distraction, for the chance to get outside and breathe fresh air. You arrived at the school and parked calmly. Soft music filled the space of the car, a melody that tried, unsuccessfully, to calm the waves of your heart. You got lost in your thoughts, looking towards the small forest that stretched like a green blanket beyond the institute, remembering the moments of hanging out with your friends to smoke while hiding from everyone. That's when you saw it. Eddie, accompanied by a girl, entering the forest. Alone. The scene hit you like a punch in the stomach, mixing alarm with sadness and, above all, with anger that burned through your veins. How could he be with another girl after what they had shared just less than two weeks ago?

The car clicked off, the keys still dangling from the ignition, forgotten. You got out of the vehicle, driven by an anger that blinded you. You left behind the responsibility of waiting for your sister, each step towards the woods fueled by the need to confront Eddie, to demand explanations, to understand why he hadn't shown up on Saturday, why he had left you with a heart full of questions and no response.

You walked with a determination that seemed to emanate from every pore of your skin, your fists clenched so tightly that your nails, long and sharp, dug into the palm of your hands, leaving small marks that would be silent witnesses of your contained fury. Your boots, faithful companions of so many days, hit the wet ground with a force that seemed to want to leave a mark not only on the earth but on destiny itself. The mud, stubborn, adhered to the edges of these, as if it wanted to stop you, but nothing could stop your progress. The girl, the one who had come out of the forest, passed by your side, her presence just a fleeting shadow in your visual periphery. For an instant, doubt made you recalculate, but it was just that, an instant. Your determination strengthened and you continued forward, towards the place that Eddie had made into his personal sanctuary. The bank in the middle of the forest was a silent witness of transactions and secrets. Worn by time and the stories he had endured, he proudly displayed his growing moss and cigarette burn scars on the picnic table. The trees surrounded it in an almost perfect circle, as if nature itself had decided to protect that space from intruders. And there was Eddie, oblivious to the world, with his only Walkman for company, moving his head to the rhythm of music that only he could hear. He counted dollars and cents with a precision that belied the apparent nonchalance of his posture.

You approached him, who had his back turned to you, oblivious to the storm of emotions that brought you there. With a decision that admitted no turning back, you turned him around forcefully, forcing him to face you, to look into your eyes. Surprise was drawn on his face, an unexpected and unmanly scream escaped his lips, while he took off his helmets with a speed born of bewilderment. "Shit, what are you doing—?" He began to say, but his question remained suspended in the air, interrupted by your hand that closed on his shirt, bringing him closer until the space between the two of them was almost erased. "Listen to me carefully, Munson, I think you have to explain a lot of things to me..." your voice was a thread of annoyance, but also of a determination that he didn't expect, feeling a tickle in his stomach. Eddie looked at you, and you saw something in his eyes that disconcerted you. It wasn't fear, or even surprise. It was a glow, a spark of something that seemed dangerously close to taste. Did he like that intensity, that fire you had inside? Or was it just another of his facades, another game in which he pretended not to be vulnerable?

"Explanations?" he replied, with a crooked smile that you didn't know if you wanted to erase or deepen. "What exactly do you want to know?" His tone was challenging, but there was a curiosity in his gaze that you couldn't ignore. "Besides, what are you doing here? Didn't you finish high school a year or two ago?"

The tension between you and Eddie was palpable, like a guitar string about to break. "What the fuck do you mean by what explanations?" you repeated, keeping your tone firm and defiant. Eddie's confident smile faded, replaced by an expression of surprise as he realized the seriousness of the situation. "We fucked, Eddie. We fucked, so I thought you liked me, but at meet-up time you don't show up and tell the guys you didn't want to see me? Are you stupid or something?" The words came out of you like bullets, each one loaded with the confusion and pain of feeling rejected, something that never happened, so it hurt your ego. You let go of Eddie's shirt, your hands finding his place on your hips, emphasizing your defiant stance. You were dressed to impress, or perhaps to confront. Your tight, ripped and slightly flared jeans were typical of the time, a cry of rebellion and style that adhered to your figure. The belt, an accessory that marked your waist, seemed to capture Eddie's attention, who was lost in contemplation of it, taken out of his thoughts by the intensity of your reproaches. Eddie blinked, coming to, and for a moment, he seemed to search for the right words. "It's not what you think," he began, his voice a little lower, a little more serious.

The tension in the air was almost tangible, like electricity before a storm. "Oh, right? So what is it, huh? Excuse yourself," you demanded, your words sharp as the red fingernails that were now pointed at him, a perfect contrast to your small maroon jean jacket. Eddie seemed lost, unable to find the right words. “It's just...that...” his voice trailed off, and with each syllable that trailed off, your frustration grew. Your brow was furrowed, a grimace of disgust was drawn on your face, and without thinking about it, you grabbed him by the cheeks. Your nails, now weapons of your anger, dug lightly into his cheeks, scratched by the shadow of a stubble. Eddie had never seen you like this, with such fierce passion, and that, somehow, seemed to light a different fire in him, a desire that grew with each gesture of your discontent. "Speak up, Eddie! You have no right to leave me like this, with doubts and no answers," you continued, your voice a crescendo of mixed emotions. "After everything that's happened, you avoid me and send messages through others? It's unfair and you know it!" Munson finally raised his gaze, meeting yours. There was something in his eyes, a flash of something that wasn't just surprise or fear of your reaction. It was deeper, a mix of regret and something you didn't dare name. "It's not what you think," he said finally, his voice firm but soft.

Eddie looked at you with eyes that seemed to seek refuge in yours, his voice trembling slightly as he confessed, "It's just that I'm a loser and you mean a lot to me..." The words hung in the air, loaded with raw sincerity. and vulnerable. "I didn't pay attention to you after fucking because I didn't want to be discovered at that moment, otherwise we would be the subject of ridicule." He paused, as if each word cost him a piece of his pride. "I didn't show up to the meeting because I knew I would get hard and it would be weird, which I didn't think you would see very well, so I excused myself to the boys with the excuse that I didn't want to see you." His confession was a labyrinth of emotions, a clumsy attempt to protect something that he himself didn't fully understand. And then, with a look that drifted toward the ground, he added, "And I haven't been able to contact you because my uncle has had problems with his diabetes and the only times I've left the house were to sell, you know, as you can see right now. I swear..." His gestures were limited, restricted by the pressure your fingers exerted on his cheeks.

Hearing him, guilt took over you, you let go of his face and looked at him, this time with an expression that mixed understanding with remorse. Eddie felt the cold on his skin where the warmth of your hand used to be. "No, no, you can leave your hand here, if you want... ..." he teased, attempting a smile that didn't reach his eyes, a forced laugh that desperately sought to relieve the tension of the moment.

Eddie stood up with a slowness that seemed to measure every second, his commanding height creating a shadow over you. You looked up, following the contour of his figure until your eyes met his, half-closed and shining with a mischievous light.

His smile, that familiar curve of his lips, enveloped you in a spell that you didn't want to escape. With a softness that contrasted the roughness of her skin, her hand found your neck, sliding to the back of your neck in a possessive gesture. "Let me clarify that that wasn't just one night, really..." The confession came out of him in a whisper, his voice a thread of vulnerability intertwined with the firmness of his words. For an instant, his gaze averted, as if the emotions he carried inside him sought to escape. But you weren't about to let him walk away from her, not now. Your hand acted of its own volition, drawing his attention back to you, demanding the connection you both knew existed. A knowing smile appeared on his face, a reflection of yours, while a part of him longed for you to repeat the gesture, to maintain that contact that seemed to be the only anchor in the whirlwind of feelings that surrounded you.

The atmosphere around them was a mixture of tension and electricity, as if the air itself was charged with the intensity of their emotions. The forest had become a private sanctuary, the tall and majestic trees formed a natural roof that filtered the sun's rays, creating a play of light and shadows on them. The ground was covered in fallen leaves, which crunched softly under their feet, a reminder of the fleeting nature of time.

The physical contact between them was its own language, a wordless conversation where each touch and each gesture had its own meaning. Eddie's hand on the back of your neck wasn't just a touch; It was an affirmation, a silent promise that what was between you transcended the everyday. His rough skin contrasted with the softness of yours, creating a sensation that made you want to get even closer.

Your hands, although they had been weapons of your anger moments before, now became explorers, tracing the contours of his face, feeling the texture of his skin, the firmness of his jaw. The pressure of your fingers was an echo of the pressure in your chest, a mixture of desire and need for understanding.

Eddie responded to your every touch, his body instinctively reacting to yours. There was a dance in their proximity, one step forward and one step back, as if they were on the edges of an emotional precipice, seeking the perfect balance between confession and reserve.

The boy remained waiting full of impatience, his eyes fixed on you, shining with the expectation of what was to come. It was as if he had cast a spell, and you, responding to that silent call, grabbed onto a strand of his long, dark hair, tugging at it with a playful but determined gesture. In one fluid motion, you pulled him towards you, and your lips met in a kiss that sealed all the unspoken words, a kiss that was a promise and a confession at the same time. Eddie's hand, which until then rested on your neck, began its slow but sure descent, tracing the contour of your collarbone before settling on the curve of your waist. His fingers, strong but careful, caressed the skin exposed by your shirt, exploring every inch with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his gaze and exchange of saliva. It was a caress that spoke of possession, an intimate connection that united you beyond the physical, but right now it was what you were looking for.

The metallic melody of Eddie's headphones, now a persistent hum, becomes the backdrop for a moment that feels suspended in time. The wet whisper of your kisses transforms into a secret language, communicating unspoken desires that only you can understand. Eddie, with a determination that leaves you breathless, he spins you around with gravity-defying skill, leaving you with your back to the bench, where your butt rested on the surface littered with tobacco flakes, adding a rough texture to the scene. You were trapped between that cool surface and Eddie's firm crotch, which pulsed with desire, sending shivers down your spine, which was caressed by Eddie's hand. A shared sigh escaped your lips as you felt the reconnection of that pressure, fueling the erotic tension that intensified with each moment.

Eddie's tongue lasciviously explored from your mouth to your neck, tracing a trail of sensations that made you sway slightly, sliding back onto the picnic table, followed by your neck, giving him just enough room. While Eddie concentrated on his task, he firmly grabbed your sturdy thighs, lifting you up and placing you on the table, causing the money counted earlier to slide on the wet grass on the floor, a detail that added a note of chaos to the scene, increasing the intensity of the moment. Each bill and coin was lost in the undergrowth, as a metaphor for the debauchery and overflowing passion that consumed them.

"I want to fuck you right here. I want to take that stupid belt off you and choke you with it," Eddie said, his voice hoarse and heavy with desire, his words reverberating in the tension-laden air. You gasped as you broke the kiss for air, his hot breath brushing against your wet neck, leaving a new electric trail on your skin. His hands, eager and determined, slid down your lower back, searching for the belt that promised to release the pent-up desire.

Eddie ran his hands anxiously down your abdomen, urgently undoing your belt as your eyes were fixed on his desperate expression. Around you, the world seemed to fade away in a swirl of colors and sounds, leaving only room for the electricity that flowed between the two of you. With a quick tug, Eddie undid your belt, making you wobble slightly as he looked at you with a devilish grin, nimbly folding it. The rustling of the leaves in the wind intermingled with the accelerated beating of your hearts, creating an atmosphere full of tension. "What would happen to that eyeliner of yours if I smacked you in the face?" he asked sarcastically, each word ringing with defiant energy. "Would he cum from your tears, or would I be the only one who would?"

Your playful response brought a flicker of desire to Eddie's eyes, which burned brightly as he watched you. "Why don't you see for yourself?" you challenged with an innocent but mischievous look, causing the tension between you to reach a new level.

Eddie obeyed with a malicious smile, giving you a sudden spank on your cheek, causing you to emit a moan of pain mixed with a hint of pleasure. The sound echoed through the air, mixing with the rustle of leaves moving in the nearby breeze. A slight redness appeared at the site of impact, marking your skin with a warm, burning tone, while your breathing quickened, full of anticipation. Meanwhile, the palpable tension between them increased, making each brush of fabric against skin feel more intense. Eddie's cock, imprisoned in her boxers, pulsed with a exquisite sensitivity, as if she were eager to break free and join the game they were both playing.

Eddie, almost instinctively, pressed his erection, imprisoned by his rock jeans, against your groin, eager to free himself. There was a tangible electricity in the surrounding environment, as if nature itself was aware of the burning desire manifesting between you.

“You look like a bitch in heat,” you teased Eddie with a mischievous smile, as your delicate hands slid to his skull-adorned belt buckle, undoing it with deliberate slowness. Each click of the buckle resonated in the air, generating a slight tremor in Eddie, who awaited with anticipation what was about to happen. His erection rubbed against the fabric, causing involuntary movements that did not go unnoticed by you, unleashing a mischievous laugh that escaped your lips, full of complicity.

You released Eddie from his belt, letting him fall nonchalantly behind you as you focused on pulling his pants down enough to show his erection, remaining careful that he could quickly pull them up if someone showed up.

Seeing his covered but noticeable cock, you licked your lips in anticipation, reveling in the sight. Eddie's white boxers were soaked with precum, revealing the level of his arousal. Your gaze fell on his crotch, where his erection was begging to be touched and pleasured. Without further ado, you pulled down his boxers, leaving light marks on his thighs from the rubbing of your nails, which caused his arched cock to release completely, hitting his clothed abdomen with a light sound. The arousal in the air was palpable, and his cock throbbed eagerly, twitching slightly in anticipation of what was to come.

Determinedly, you wrap your hand around Eddie's firm erection, beginning to pump at a slow but steady pace. A content sigh escapes her parted lips as his body tenses at the contact, letting out a barely audible moan that is lost in the air charged with excitement. His trembling hand finds its way to your hair, gripping it firmly as his mouth curves into a mischievous smile. Every movement you make provokes a response in his body, a slight contraction of his muscles, a ragged inhalation that adds to the ambient noise.

The sound of skin rubbing against skin mixes with the rustle of the breeze rustling nearby leaves, creating a symphony of pleasure and anticipation. Your hand continues to move skillfully, gradually quickening the pace, as Eddie's breathing becomes more labored, his moans more audible.

Every time your thumb brushes the sensitive tip of his member, his body shudders involuntarily, and his moans intensify, filling the air with a heady mix of arousal and desire.

With provocative elegance, you slide from the table you were sitting at, moving gracefully until you are on your knees in front of Eddie. From that lower position, you look at him with a look full of desire and eagerness to please him, while a playful smile curves your lips. Leaning forward slightly, you open your mouth in a clear sign of your intentions, indicating your willingness to take his cock in your mouth. Anticipation shines in Eddie's eyes, his breathing becoming more labored as he watches you with a mix of desire and arousal.

Without warning, in a provocative act, you playfully open your mouth, inviting him to immerse himself in the pleasure you offer him. Eddie's hand, which was firmly gripping your hair, pushes you decisively, forcing his cock forcefully into your mouth. You feel the sudden onslaught of his member, causing a strong tremor in his body as he experiences the humidity, heat, softness and tightness of your mouth. The intoxicating sensation of having him inside you awakens a wave of pleasure that runs through every fiber of your being, noticing how those jeans that you considered favorites began to get wet due to the transfer of your panties.

A deep, desire-laden moan escapes Eddie's lips as he pronounces your name between broken breaths. His voice, full of passion and desire, resonates in the air, further fueling the fiery moment. “Ahh... fuck...” he moans your name, revealing the overwhelming effect you have on him. You give yourself fully to the act, letting desire and arousal consume you completely, as you dive deeper into the pleasure of giving Eddie exactly what he craves.

Eddie’s hands grip the sides of your face with palpable determination, like he’s eager to explore every inch of your mouth. He begins to move at a frenetic pace, fucking your mouth with an unbridled passion that leaves you breathless. Little by little, his member reaches the beginning of your throat, causing an intense sensation that makes you shudder. A gag escapes your throat, caused by Eddie's deep intrusion, but he doesn't stop, instead continuing to thrust hard, causing pleasure mixed with slight pain that makes your moans intermingle with his. The feeling of his tip lightly crushing your palate only intensifies the ecstasy shared between the two of you, causing louder, deeper moans from Eddie.

You could feel Eddie getting closer to climax, his ragged breathing and higher-pitched moans indicating he was on the brink of release. However, something else was seeping into your consciousness: close footsteps, a sound that didn't fit the intimate atmosphere you shared with Eddie. Worry began to bubble inside you as you continued to do your duty, but unease took over. The desire to find out who was interrupting this private but at the same time public moment grew with each closer step, but Eddie's firm grip on your face kept you trapped, preventing you from moving away. With concentrated effort, you fought against his hold until you finally managed to free yourself enough to separate yourself from his cock.

You pulled away from Eddie's cock with a sharp movement, feeling his cream slide between your fingers. Your eyes met those of the step holders, two figures who looked at you with a surprise that seemed carved into their faces. "Eddie?" the Sinclair's voice cracked, revealing his bewilderment, while your sister remained at his side, a motionless silhouette in the chaos of the moment. "Sinclair!" you exclaimed, your voice rising above the murmur of the forest as you realized he was holding a used and tied condom, a crucial link in the chain of events unfolding before you. The long-haired man's erection, now abandoned by his misfortune, collapsed, and a torrent of almost translucent white liquid spread across your face, hiding your shocked expression.

Eddie's deep moan that followed this echoed through the forest, marking the end of one act and the beginning of another. Eddie, Sinclair, and your sister looked at you, their expressions a mirror of absolute shock. None of the four of you knew how to react, trapped in a moment of mutual transgression, a game of secrets and silences that had been broken by Eddie's cum on your face.

#fanfic #enemies to lovers #eddie munson writing #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddiemunson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie #eddie munson enemies to lovers #stranger things 4 #stranger things 3 #dungeons and daddies #dungeons and dragons #stranger things #one shot #dungeons #d&d #hawkins #eddie the freak munson #munson

[peter-pan-demonium]

~ New Fanfic - Mean Girls - Cadina ~

Check out my completed short fic.

When Cady shows up to school in a suit, it turns Regina into a gay mess.

But Cady has no idea what effect she's having...right?

#wlw #f/f fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #enemies to lovers #mean girls #regina george #cady heron #regina x cady #cadina #mean girls 2024 #cady x regina #not my fault #gay panic

[enzos-shit]

forced proximity

where yn’s friend group challenges yn to get a boyfriend before winter break at the start of their senior year, 

or

where soobin agrees to be yn’s ‘fake boyfriend’ for a while, and inevitably digs up some (what he thought were) long gone feelings for the girl

soobin and yn have always had some sort of rivalry with each other. no one knows how, why, or when it started, but everyone knows it exists. soobin is one of the ‘popular’ kids at the high school they go to, while yn is lesser known. both are and have been single since freshman year. 

genre >> enemies to lovers, smau, fluff, eventual angst

- fem!reader

- choi soobin x reader

- taglist : open!

- mon/wed/fri update schedule

- some written parts

- lowercase intentional

profiles : ‘ the kids ’ - ‘ top dogs ’

chapters : coming soon..

previous || next ' the kids '

#txt #tomorrow x together #soobin #choi soobin #enemies to lovers #smau #kpop smau #soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #fem reader #x fem reader #x reader #yeonjun #yeji #yuna #chaeryeong #taehyun #beomgyu #hueningkai

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

caretaker and whumpee are archenemies — the complication of their relationship involves long history of kinship, betrayal and unresolved sexual tension — when whumpee is injured, caretaker is surprised when they learn they can’t let whumpee die, for some unknown reason, even if whumpee is their enemy.

so caretaker ends up saving whumpee’s life and taking care of whumpee.

this is the part where both caretaker and whumpee have to face their own feelings, which they have for each other, that have been kept secrets for so long.

read a fic with this trope here.

#whump #writing #writer #whumpblr #enemies to lovers #doomreed #victor von doom #reed richards #fantastic four #fantastic 4 #writing challenge #writing tropes #whump tropes #writing prompts #whump prompts #writing prompt #whump prompt #writing trope #whump trope #tropes #angst #trope #prompts #prompt #writing inspo #writing inspiration #writeblr #whump community

[qvnthesia]

in action. (a tbb hunter one-shot)

a hunter/jedi!reader (afab) fic.

the pitch: seeing hunter in action inspired a different flame in you, one that you wanted everything to do with.

a/n: okay look — i know i know i was supposed to update my tvd fic but IT’S HUNTER COME ON this man has captivated my heart my soul my body my legs—*ahem* anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic! dedicated to @/xajnie on tbbtwt, thank you for fuelling the hunter admiration <33 i’ve had to change the plot 4 times — FOUR TIMES (fuck writer's block) — so, once again, i hope you enjoy this fic!

word count: 1, 426

theme/warning: fluff, and references to smut. implied enemies to lovers dynamic. reader is an adrenaline junkie <33 (yes i’m projecting yes i’ve become a whore for this man yes i’m not ashamed) — putting an 18+ warning just to be on the safe side 💗

You were staring.

Here’s the thing—Jedi weren't supposed to stare like that. They were supposed to observe, analyse their environments and maintain peace and harmony accordingly.

Granted, you had spectacularly failed at that mindful endeavour when you had stormed through the Zygerrian stronghold. You cut through hordes of clankers with a brazen and bold strut, freed civilians fleeing behind you for cover as you advanced forward. You supposed your lightsaber would have yielded some ‘yielding’ results from the enemy, but your master’s warning about your thrill-seeking tendencies rang in your brain, and you were too late. Now enslaved to the cruel species, you didn't have much of a leeway, much to your amused chagrin, with a shock collar saddled around your neck, sharp electric cords having forced you on your knees with your bound wrists lying between your legs.

Now, however, you weren't regretting being bound at all.

There was a reason the clones had more advantages than the Separatists. They were men, they were alive, they were people who had thoughts and dreams of their own. Every trooper you had been graced with the privilege of serving alongside with had their own quirks, distinguished by their own art, moral and valour.

The sargeant was more.

As the de-facto commanding officer of the Bad Batch, Hunter had had his initial doubts about you. He was a man who wasn't used to deferring his leadership, especially not to someone who had gone from Captain to Commander to General within a span of months. But you were a Jedi, and he never voiced his doubts even though you could still feel the bitter edges of his annoyance and his purposefully positioned distance reduced to nothing but professionalism and workplace discipline.

You thought that being a Jedi, you’d stick to the military civility and get the job done.

But the Sargeant made it hard to be a stickler for the rules.

You centered yourself in the Force, ignoring the deep tug from your pulsing womanhood as Hunter battled a horde of Zygerrian slavers, hand-to-hand.

This wasn't the first time you’d watched him fight. Sure, he fought for the good of the Republic, but you’d be lying if you said watching him kick ass wasn't a scrumptious treat for your sore eyes.

Aside from the clankers begging for mercy, he spared none as he sank his knife into the droids. His pauldrons strained against his biceps as he wrapped his arms around the commando ones until their circuitry sparked and fizzled into haphazard disassembly. There were moments where it was just comfortable silence, you working on your lightsaber again while he kept twirling his knife until he sheathed it under his forearms and got up to receive the latest mission briefing. Your veins always swam with his every move, your gaze drinking every smug tug of his chapped lips as he gave a two-fingered salute and decimated battalions, his fingers curling in the exact way you’d imagined him inside you.

It was as if the war suddenly ceased to matter, your Code rendered obsolete within a span of seconds as he brgan filling your thoughts. His breath mixing with yours, fingers tangled in his hair, all resistance forgotten, his skin on yours, bodies joined, his light inside you, rendering you delirious and needy with pleasure. His smoky voice filling your ears with the filthiest of murmurs as he claimed every inch of you, gazing down upon you with a dark, heavy-lidded stare that he’d directed at you whenever he disagreed with you and your near-suicidal yet successful strategies.

You’d committed his every move to your memory. It wasn't hard to forget, being sensitive to everything down to the molecules around.

It was then you sensed it, panic flooding your limbs as a yellow whip cracked the air.

“HUNTER—”

Your warning died, lips parting in sharp, rippling surprise as the whip curled around Hunter’s arm. The electricity travelled up his body, and you struggled against the bonds, being hit with electricity tailored to make you kneel.

That’s when you heard it. A low growl. The strangled primal voice ripping out of Hunter’s throat as he stood up on his two feet. Your mind practically exploded as you stared openly, mental shields frayed from something between pain and admiration, the kind inspired by a promise of the forever you’d sworn not to chase.

Gripping the blazing whip, Hunter yanked the Zygerrian man towards him, stopping an imminent collision as he bent the slaver’s wrists with a painful wrench and delivered a sharp kick to his chest, careening the scum across the dark bridge of the facility until his body collided with the console and fell to the floor with a useless crumple.

You let out an exhale, relieved. Your legs were trembling from the exertion employed from resisting being beaten into submission. But you stood up on your two feet, shaky.

“Right on time, huh?”

You met his helmet, stark, and sighed again.

“Okay, I know you're mad and yes, I should’ve take the offer for backup—”

You’re cut off as his helmet hits the ground with a thud and he makes straight for you. Before you can say anything, his fingers rip off the collar your neck and undo your restraints.

“Hunter—”

Your confusion muffles into shock as he pulls you towards him and brings your lips into his.

Your heart nearly explodes, its pace picking up as your eyelids instantly droop shut, your palms pressing his chest plate, arms snaking around his neck until your fingers threaded through his dark locks. His fingers grip under your thigh, feet shuffling until he pins you against a wall, his solid body trapping yours under his heat. His mouth slants over yours, and he groans into the kiss as your tongue meets the hot wet of his mouth. Your back digs against his hands as they roamed across the expanse of your robes.

He was so close to you, so unbearably far away with the layers between as you snaked one leg around his waist and his length pressed against you. You arched your back at the contact, flames igniting up your body as you grinded against him, the lines between need and want blurring so intensely between your desires to be one with him and have him stay just like this.

His hands cupped your face and he flinched. Your brows stitched together as he drew back, hurt tautly woven on your face.

Hunter probably sensed your emotions, he always did, always on the lookout for something different, something hopefully not life-threatening. He simply held out a hand now coated with your blood. His eyes roved over to the bleeding gash from the side of your face, and he let out a weary sigh.

“When will you start listening to me?”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Sarge?” you grinned.

“Tsk,” his other hand traced the edge of your jaw until his thumb pressed your lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your grin grew wider and you let out a breathy laugh, your tongue flicking out to give his thumb a lick. A thrilling shiver ran down your spine, your mind hazy with your victory, once his intense brown-grey eyes refocused on you.

“Call it a favour, Hunter.”

He hummed, “What if I don't see it as a favour, Mesh’la?”

Your smile melted, the fire in your blown-out eyes sparking brighter, your gaze flickering between wonder at the use of that endearing term.

A handful of seconds passed between the two of you, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your scent had been on him the entire campaign, driving him into absolute overdrive everytime he watched you cut down enemies with your saber and decimate battalions as if you were cutting through butter and not fighting an intergalactic war. But today, he’d had trouble fighting against those slavers with the thoughts that were running in your head and driving him wild. He’d felt the weight of your gaze on his soul, the curiosity turning into animosity masking your passionate frenzy. And he would be a fucking fool if he didn’t admit not a day went by where he hadn’t thought of doing things to you that turned your bratty self into a whimpering, moaning mess all over him.

He noted your evidently aroused state, the warm blood rushing beneath your skin, and the wetness pooling your trousers.

This was going to take a while, and Hunter wasn't going to waste a single second of finally getting to have some action with you.

thank you so so much for reading! please do point out any grammatical mistakes if there are any. this is the first time i'm writing for hunter so i hope you enjoyed this fic!

if you'd like to be added to the hunter tag list (since i do have a shit ton of fics planned—this man has a chokehold on me as bad as hayden does), drop a comment below! reviews are extremely appreciated 💗✨

this fic has NOT been cross-posted to my ao3. any/all forms of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter the bad batch #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x you #sergeant hunter #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x you #sw tbb #the bad batch #hunter bad batch #star wars the bad batch #enemies to lovers #tbb hunter #hunter #clone force 99 #star wars tbb #tbb

[alcazarofthestars]

More brainrots<3

I KNOW THAT I'VE BEEN INACTIVE FOR LIKE A WEEK BUT HEAR ME OUT:

THIS

THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN

SO I GOT THIS IDEA WHEN I WAS WALKING BACK FROM SCHOOL

SO IMAGINE:

Casper with an angel reader in an enemies to lovers situation where the reader's job is to help people in near death scenarios so they would fight/bicker a LOT but this bickering slowly turns into flirting and then they started dating BUT heaven doesn't allow this so the higher angels try to separate you two by locking you away in a tower in heaven where no one can reach you. Heartbroken, he went on a rampage and burst into heaven to search for you and went on to kill quite a lot of angels before being sealed away for a thousand years or so. When the reader wakes up she doesn't remember anything besides her job. When Casper broke free the first thing he saw was you with another man.

OR

A reader who's the angel of death and collects the souls of people who belong in heaven while he collects souls of people who belong in hell. Usually they shouldn't collide but every once in a blue moon there will be someone who has an equal amount of sins and good deeds. This led them to get to know each other better and even develop feelings for each other but the reader knows that they just can't be because of their jobs and tried to distance themselves from him but ended up failing. Your heart just can't take it! But one day you overheard some gossips from the elder angels that they knew about your relationship and were planning on "taking him out" so he wouldn't interfere with your job. When they were about to do it, the reader put themselves in front of him and ended up getting reincarnated as a human with no memories. Casper found out about this and started stalking you. You still had the same personality and charisma, it's almost as if nothing happened. He took on a more human form and started to talk to you and make you trust him, after a while he found out that you were already in a relationship with someone else... This can't be right. You promised to be with HIM. You are HIS partner. No no, you're just not in your right mind, yes, that's it. Don't worry, he'll knock you back to your senses<3.

OR

MAYBE A SOULMATE SITUATION WITH HIM WHERE HE'S AN IMMORTAL AND YOU'RE A MORTAL WHO IS CURSED TO DIE SOON

Idk if someone made this before tho

Maybe I'll continue this Brainrot sometime... But my motivation is at an all time low rn...

so have this badly written Brainrot to wait

-With love, Lythia <3

P.S. feel free to write a fic with this plot(s) but PLEASE credit me

#lythia!rants #yandere #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #yandere male #male yandere #yandere boy #a date with death #visual novel #vn #a date with death casper #casper #the brainrot is real #brainrot #my motivation is LOW #my brain is mush #angst #one shot #enemies to lovers #idk how to tag this #man... #soulmates

[captainblou]

COMING SOON

(With the cheapest cover art ever known to man)

Drive me to the moon - a good omens human AU

A classic enemies to friends to lovers set up, a lot of angst and an eventual happy ending, where Aziraphale is a professional dancer and Crowley a rally driver

(Stay with me, it's gonna be fiiiine, you'll even think rally might be fun after that)

Excerpt:

The Ritz, privatised by the brand for the occasion, was masterfully decorated, in a tasteful mix of athletics and Christmas themes. Gladly accepting the glass of Champagne offered, Aziraphale took a moment to look around, lingering his eyes on the pictures displayed all around the room. Gomens really endorsed a large variety of athletes, from the more traditional sports professionals, like football players, to more niche competitors. As a dancer, Aziraphale was grateful for the opportunities the brand had given him. Their endorsement was the main support for his career, and together, they had made competitive dancing a sport to be reckoned with. As he was walking the room to admire the pictures of his colleagues - that particular picture of Eric Bunn breaking the water on a 10 metres dive was absolutely stunning - he came across his own face, shut by effort and concentration. He winced. It was not that he didn’t like the way he looked while dancing; the costumes and makeup were always amazing, and the dance always made him look more elegant and graceful than he truly was. No. It was just that he didn’t like the way he looked, period. He had always known that he had an unconventional body type for an athlete - he had always been a bit round on the tummy, and pretty much everywhere else actually - and he had mostly made peace with it at the start of his career, as his features never revealed to be an obstacle. But to see himself on display like this would always make him feel uncomfortable. The picture was beautiful. He was not. “Admiring yourself huh?” He jolted his head to see who had made the comment, and his stare landed on the back of a tall, thin figure just passing him. A flow of fiery red hair was brushing narrow, sharp shoulders in a black tuxedo, and its owner barely turned their head to smirk at Aziraphale, continuing their walk to the furthest table in an over the top swaying of hips.

Coming soon, writing is 90% done 🫡

Tell me if you want to get on the tag list my dear readers 💛

#good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #myfics #DMTTM #cheap cover #teasing #i know i'm teasing a lot these days!

[codebianchi]

Under Grease-Stained Bandages Pt. 1

summary: charles is a mechanic who has made a name for himself and max is a racer who has been admiring his work for a while. the blonde wants charles on his team, but charles prefers to fly solo.

Charles had always had an affinity for cars. His blood flowed red, but in the same red that paints a Ferrari. That same blood dribbled down; his fingertips torn bloody after messing around with the engine of the client who sat nearby in the waiting room. Sweat prickled at his brow. The room was stiflingly hot. The sun poured heat through the open garage door. During the summertime, regulating how hot it was in the shop was almost impossible. The smell of hot rubber tires smothered him, an combination of sweat and oil coating him like another layer of skin. He raised his arm, wiping away the bead of sweat to realize how destroyed his fingers had become. Almost instantly after his realization, he felt a surge of pain in his fingers.

Wiping his hands on the rag he had half-tucked into his pocket, he stepped back from the car. He bent down, tugging at the toolbox drawers until a package of band aids came into sight. He took a few from the box and wrapped his fingers. He sighed, shaking his head as he readied his customer service persona to talk to the individual in the waiting room. The cold metal door handle felt heavenly against his hot skin. Pushing open the door, Charles leaned against the counter in the waiting room. He basked in the cold, air-conditioned room, staring intently at the blonde man who was completely enraptured in whatever was on his phone. If you had asked Charles to describe the man sitting in the waiting room, he’d say he was just like any other rich white boy who grew up in a safe cul-de-sac away from the dangers of the world.

“Your car is set,” Charles broke the silence, his voice still soft as if he was scared to be too loud. “I didn’t know my mechanic was French.” The blonde teased, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stood up. Charles rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind some light teasing about his accent but calling him French always ruined it. Charles spun the man’s keys around his finger before quickly tossing them towards the blonde. “Take better care of your car blondie.” He murmured, sliding behind the counter to close the guy out. “Yeah, yeah...” the blonde reached for his pocket, retrieving a wallet and pulling out a card. Charles took the card, and with a newfound curiosity, he flipped the card over to learn the man’s name. Something about the man having his last name abbreviated to fit on his license plate was amusing to Charles. “What?” The blonde man, Max, questioned. The brunette shook his head, fighting a giggle that was slowly rising up his throat, and handed back the card. “Nothing, nothing at all mate.”

Max shoved his card into his pocket, exiting the shop swiftly. As soon as the bell lightly jingled, Charles let out a small giggle as he ran his hand through his hair. He looked down at the register screen again, frowning when he realized the time. Dragging his feet, he walked back to the shop and closed the garage doors. He stooped down, locking the doors to notice a small gold pin had been left on the floor. He scooped it up, pocketing it for later. Usually, he would never close his shop so early, but he had appointments that he’d been pushing off for months that could no longer avoid. As he walked back into the waiting room area, his eyes immediately went to the mysterious pile of cash that had appeared on the counter. He furrowed his brow, walking over to the counter with unsure strides. There was $1,000 discarded on the counter, neatly bundled, and a cream card. The card had a faint bull design in the background, and in dark red writing, a small smile was drawn. Charles slipped the card into his pocket and tucked the money into his savings jar that he’d left under the register.

The next day, Charles followed the same routine he did every Thursday morning. He woke up at 5, went for a run at 5:15, showered at 7, ate at 7:30, got dressed at 7:45, and was at work by 8:30. Usually, work would be slow until 9. But when Charles turned into the parking lot of his work, there was already a car waiting. The engine idled, a rhythmic beat gently vibrating the ground around it. The brunette took a deep breath, parked his car, and walked into his shop. Ignoring the lobby, he made a B-line to the shop. He unlocked the three garage doors, pushing them up to let the cool morning air fill the shop.

“So, do you ignore all of your clients?” Charles jumped, spinning around to see the same blonde from yesterday leaning against the large frame of the garage doors. The man had a waggish look on his face, a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he pushed himself off the thin frame to walk towards the brunette. “Or am I special?”

#f1 #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #enemies to lovers #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 11

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 10

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake to the sun shining in from the small square window and the caws of a raven.

Sitting up slowly, you head directly to the bathroom to bathe. No thoughts have crossed your mind as you’re functioning on autopilot.

You look at your reflection and see nothing. In the deepest parts of your mind you can hear the locked chest rattling and moving to get out, much like Pandora's box, but you push it further.

Not anymore. Just focus on your job. I can’t do this anymore. For your own sanity, push them out.

You get ready for the day and head out to your first destination: the King’s bedroom.

As you perform your duties, it feels as though you’re floating. The world around you seems hazy, almost as if somebody else is controlling your body as you watch through your eyes.

You’re cleaning the room robotically, as you move around sweeping and dusting. You hear nothing besides this constant deep buzzing.

Suddenly you feel a hand wrap around your forearm and makes you turn around. You show no reaction as you’re turned to face Loki, staring at you with squinted eyes.

He’s saying something but you can’t hear until you shake your head out of the haze and focus again. You curtsy low and address him “Hello, my king. How may I be of assistance?”

He stares at you, searching your eyes. “Are you well?” he asks.

“How do you mean, my king?” you reply stoically.

He can’t find that fire behind your eyes that used to burn with defiance, nor that snarkiness he loves to see when you challenge him. He only sees empty eyes staring back at him.

“What happened?” he demands rather than asking.

“I'm unsure what you are referring to, my king. I am simply doing my job, as your maid. I’m doing as you said, your highness. I know my place.” Your eyes look sunken and void of anything.

He frowns at your reply when you turn around and continue your work as he stares at you in confusion and worry.

He steps in front of you “Stop.”

You immediately obey “Yes, my king.” and you stand there waiting for his next order.

He continues to search your eyes, not understanding how a woman with such strong character, the woman he met a few days prior who would rather be beaten than to obey an order, suddenly accept a command so easily.

He sits you down on a chair and analyzes you. He can’t sense any foreign or dark magic on you. There is no curse he can identify. He’s bewildered by your drastic change in character, until he notices this dark purple aura surrounding your body. He doesn’t understand how he hadn’t felt the presence of this magic before, but he quickly realizes that it isn’t foreign. It’s coming from within you.

Thinking out loud he says "You're not supposed to have magic. How is this possible?"

Then, he remembers something his mother had told him years ago when he was a boy:

~~~

"Mother, what do the colours I see around people mean? Everybody has a different one. Why is that?" Young Loki asks.

"My son, those colours are called auras. Everybody has a different aura depending on their type of magic that they have and use. Sometimes, people may have dormant magic, subdued from years of being unused. Those auras, are much different, however. They are usually a deep orange, which can eventually turn into another colour when and if they start using their magic again." The Allmother explains to her eldest child.

"But what about dark purple? I was reading a book in the library that mentioned dark purple auras but I wasn't able to find any details about it." the curious boy questions.

"Dark purple? That is a very rare aura... one I have not seen since our last Great War, centuries ago. A dark purple aura happens when somebody born with magic, has suffered greatly. As a result, their magic is naturally subdued, because the most dangerous and volatile person is one who uses and grows their magic through hate and pain. The dark purple aura reflects the pain and trauma they've endured and almost acts as a warning to others. It is well known by all experts of magic that a dark purple aura cannot be cleared without the affected person healing themselves fully from their trauma." she explains.

"How do you heal them?"

"That is where the issue lays, my sweet boy. Over the years we have learned that this can only happen one way: True love and complete trust. It has been noted that the only thing that can break such pain, sadness and anguish, is unconditional love. Very few cases have been recorded where one with a dark purple aura has found such love and managed to free themselves and accept their true aura, stemming from their true, healed, self." she grabs ahold of her sons hand and guides him through her garden.

"This type of magic is the most powerful and the most difficult to attain as it is not really magic at all. Nobody can simply enchant another to fall in love. The love must be true. This means, it cannot be influenced by any unnatural forces. It cannot be forced or tricked, which is why it is the most difficult ailment to cure, unfortunately. Even more so as times passes because true love has lost its meaning over the years. No book or magical spell can tell you what true love is because there is no singular definition. For a mother, it may be the love she has for her child, for another it may be their significant other, or their sibling...It differs from person to person. Sometimes, an act of true love by the affected person themselves or the one that they love, can break the dark purple aura. Unfortunately, at times, those acts of unconditional love, are fatal; sacrificing yourself for another. True love is a very fragile and fickle thing. Extremely difficult to attain but very easy to break." she sighs sadly as she walks through the mazes of her garden.

Young Loki remained silent the rest of their walk, mind reeling trying to understand what true love really means.

~~~

At that moment he decides to do the one thing he promised himself he would never do without one’s consent.

He places two fingers on your forehead, and you feel a tingle as he begins to read your mind and replay your memories. He starts from last night, with the intention of going back as far as possible to understand who you really are.

When he begins, he can see the box of emotions hidden deep within your subconscious, locked with chains and kept hidden well beyond. He replays your memories in your room and the bathroom.

He pulls back in surprise. “How did you do that?” he asks you.

You do not reply to him and stare blankly through him.

"But... if your magic is supposedly dormant, how are you able to dissociate yourself and psychologically lock your emotions away?... Can I reverse it?" he asks himself, thinking out loud.

He taps once again into your memories and chases after the locked chest hidden in the furthest part of your mind. As he begins to approach it, it moves again, further away every time. Finally, Loki decides to try halting it in its spot with his magic. When he tries to do so, a sudden intense wave of fire scorches around him. Confused, he touches it and to his surprise, he can feel the heat from the fire within your mind. As he tries to step through, a phoenix emerges and screams as it flies at him. He feels the power of the phoenix throw him backwards and he inhales depply as staggers back on the table in his room. He's breathing heavily, heart racing as stares at you in disbelief.

What just happened? Did she throw me out of her mind? How is that possible... that has never happened... Who are you?

"May I resume my work, my king?" you asks monotonously.

Loki shakes his head incredulously and waves his hand in the air "Yes, yes, continue. I must take my leave."

He quickly walks to the door and looks behind his shoulder before leaving, watching you broom the floor as if nothing happened.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Please let me know your opinions on the story so far and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

@luxky-aish

@jellybeanstacey0519

#fanfic #marvel #angst #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki series #loki #fluff #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #magic #asgardians

[the-bar-sinister]

❛ you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way. ❜ for Chrisker?

"You look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way," Chris grunted as his gaze slid over Wesker's body, impossible to prevent himself from taking it in. 

The way the thick, black, body hugging fabric suction cupped itself to Wesker's form, accentuating the muscles of his stomach, and the bulge of his crotch. The way the high collar of his coat framed his sharp jaw.

He hated himself for being unable to stop noticing how good it looked– for the way it made him want to rub his hands over him.

"You say that, Chris," Wesker sneered, "but you're still looking."

-

AO3 link

prompt list link

Thank you for the prompt, it suits them so much. 🤣

#chrisker #chris redfield #albert wesker #drabble #resident evil #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #enemies to lovers

[willshookaspear]

Right Now | Rafe Cameron x OC

Snippet from 18: the fucking point?

"Isn't that the fucking point?" Rafe said after a while. They were standing closer now, Billie could feel his warm breath. "Of course I'm fucking jealous, Billie."

"Why?" Billie challenged. "I'm a mess, remember?"

"I'm a mess too," Rafe said and took one final step towards her. She didn't back away. Her skin tingled at their closeness and her face was hot.

"Yeah?" Billie swallowed slowly. Rafe examined her face and breathed controlled breaths through his nose. He nodded slowly as his eyes flickered to her lips, just for a second. The moment of his irises made blood flow down Billie's body in an exhilarating, anticipatory wave. They both breathed heavy, hot breaths, both waiting for the other to move. The tension was overbearing.

Billie bit her bottom lip and swallowed. Rafe smirked and furrowed his brows.

"Don't do that," he swallowed and looked at her with black eyes.

"Do what?" Billie looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"You know what," Rafe's eyes were wild, full of lust."I'm just a mess. I don't know what I'm doing," she said finally and backed away with a vicious expression on her face. Rafe's mouth turned into a straight line from disapproval. He furrowed his brows. What is she doing? Was that all a joke to prove the power she has over me? Congrats, I'm horny as fuck.

AO3: Right Now | Rafe Cameron by willshookaspear

#drew starkey #enemies to lovers #jj maybank #jj obx #john b routledge #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafecore #rafe x reader #jj x reader #jj smut #jealousy #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks imagine