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peachypinkygloss · 8 months

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dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fic

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someonealreadyhadmynickname · 10 months

Text

Dad headcanons | Leon S. Kennedy

warnings: pregnancy

I picture Leon being in absolute bliss when you break the news to him. He’ll be laughing while hugging you. He’s never had a normal family, and I believe he would want children of his own. He’ll be so happy he won’t be able to erase a dumb smile from his face for the rest of the day.

Reads lots of articles on parenting and baby development.

A worrywart. One day several noises woke you up late at night and you discovered your husband babyproofing everything in the house. Turns out he was so worried he couldn’t wait til’ the morning.

You have to be very careful about mentioning your cravings because this man is driving in the middle of the storm if that means getting what you want. You’ll have to physically stop him from going out at ungodly hours just because you crave some donuts.

If it were up to him, you wouldn’t even get out of bed. He has to be holding your hand when you use stairs, no matter how many times you’ve tried to convince him you are totally capable of doing it alone.

“What’s next? I’m not allowed to use scissors?”

Your laugh slowly quietens as you notice Leon’s thinking face.

“... I don’t see why you would have to use scissors”

One day he came home with a big present box and when you opened it a german shepherd jumped at you. He got a trained police dog to keep you company. (Not before making extensive research on the best family dogs, of course).

On top of that, he would want to hire someone to help around the house because the thought of you being alone makes him worried sick.

He’s so silly. Talks to your belly all the time. When he comes home he always greets you with “how are my babies doing?”

He goes crazy with baby stuff. Clothes, plushies, bottles, toys, everything he sees in stores ends up in the baby room. The room is so full of stuff you two had to keep some things in the attic. He has promised to stop buying things several times but there’s always something that catches his eye and he has to get it.

“And this is a baby monitor— I know that face, you don’t like it”

“No, I love it, it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“You already bought one of those, love”

“Aha! No, I bought a different one. Now, you see, the one we had doesn’t had all the features this one has…”

Strikes me as the kind of guy who would want to wait a bit before telling people about the pregnancy… However, he ends up spilling the beans two or three times. Also, people kinda catch onto it because all he talks about is about children’s development.

Sometimes you wake up at night to find your lover lying awake, watching at the ceiling. Truth is, he can’t help but worry about your child’s future and spends hours thinking about it; but when you ask him what’s keeping him up, he always answers that the excitement of becoming a dad won’t let him sleep.

Will do the impossible in order to be with you during the delivery. He has warned his superiors months in advance that he needs to rest during the days when is probable the baby is coming. In the worst case scenario, where he isn’t able to make it in time, he is gonna be regretful for a very long time.

Definitely cries the first time he holds his baby.

He randomly wakes up at night and goes to check the baby. He’ll sit in front of the crib and stay there for a while, sometimes he picks the baby up and just holds them. Will always give them a kiss on their forehead before leaving.

Converses with the baby. He could be feeding them, or changing their diaper, and he talks to them as if they could understand him. Tells them about his day, how work is going. If you two were ever to argue (which is very rare and, if you do, always with a certain joke air), he is bringing the baby and puts them on his side. He looks at the baby and asks “can you believe this?”

You’ve found him watching baby cartoons not noticing the child is long asleep.

He is beyond cheerful because everytime you are carrying the baby, they raise their tiny arms to his dad wanting to be held by him.

Asks Claire to babysit whenever you two go out on dates.

Which he later regrets because now, everytime the baby sees Claire, they reach out for her. Even if Leon is carrying them. Makes him a bit jealous.

Your baby walks and talks very early on because of how much time Leon spends with them.

Every parent believes their kid is exceptional, but Leon could win the proudest dad competition. As your child grows up, Leon is so amazed by every milestone they complete. “I’m telling you, this child is going places”, he tells you the day your baby learns to roll over.

You mentioned to him once how cute you thought albums were, so now you two keep one for your kid. He takes terrible photos, but you think those are very adorable and keep them in the album.

Takes playtime seriously. He isn’t like those parents who don’t even care about what’s happening and leave at the middle of the game. Tea party? He is wearing his best clothes. Pretending to be spies? Won’t break character. He will be bashful if you catch him tho.

He has this ongoing thing with your child where they try to build the biggest sandcastle everytime you go to the beach.

He always says ‘I love you’ when saying goodbye. Once your child hurriedly kissed his cheek and pretended to leave, but Leon stopped them and said: “Everytime I tell you I love you, I mean it, it’s not just mindless words. Do you mean it?” He knows that, and god forbids it happens, he could not come back home one day. So it’s crucial for him for his child to understand how much he loves them.

It breaks his heart to leave his family so often. On one occasion he overheard your child begging you to talk to their father and ask him to please stop going on missions.

I picture him having a daughter.

The kind of man who takes his daughter to dates. Everytime he brings you flowers, he has another bouquet for his princess.

Your daughter is a performer. She makes up dances and songs and performs in front of you two.

Once, when she was young, she told him she wanted to marry him. He answered he couldn’t marry her because he is already married to you, to which your girl replied “Can I marry uncle Chris then?” Leon hasn’t recovered from that.

Maybe a bit delusional but you two invite over his D.S.O friends for Christmas, Claire and Chris included, and everyone brings a present for your daughter.

He’d like more than one kid, but often worries about what would happen to his family if he ever goes missing, so for now, another one isn’t in the plans.

Lying by your side at night, he sometimes thanks you for the opportunity to have a family.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #re2 #resident evil #resident evil 2 #fluff #leon headcanons #tw pregnancy

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

ERROR 410: GONE (Yandere Faceless!Kamisato Ayato/Reader)

A/n: thank you for the 5 dollar tip, "anonymous"! I asked them for what they want in exchange and they asked for a fac█le██ ayato fic... Alright then... You did ask for it...

Unreliable synopsis: Your new coworker doesn't seem to be from around here...

It was a cramped night at the bus stop. Except for the elderly, many people had their phones out since it was nearly midnight and nobody had the stamina to engage in conversation. You recently got promoted as a district manager for an international company, and oh, the work is just too exhausting to drone about. However, in this station, it didn't matter if you were an energetic student or an employee. The bus is abnormally later than their usual "lateness", and such a redundant statement elucidates just how shoddy their schedule is. Everyone was simultaneously stressed and drained and each of their war faces screamed that they would selfishly fight for the seat ride home.

All except for one man.

From the moment he arrived, you were peering at him. He had a similar appearance to the character you were "maining" in the video game you were enamored with for approximately two years. Though you seriously doubt he was in cosplay, he and that favorite of yours look eerily identical. His long-sleeved black coat and simple white turtleneck blend in with modern fashion fairly, save for his elaborate light blue hair, which was organically unkempt and not at all synthetic. His keen eyes led you to believe that he is from an Eastern lineage, most likely Japanese, but you didn't want to make any unfounded assumptions. Because it's simply impossible for someone to cosplay at this time, you were left silently marveling at the incredible coincidence.

He muttered something to himself, but you did not hear it.

“11:56 PM.”

You had a smidgen of knowledge regarding the bus schedule enough to give yourself a pep talk in the hopes that it would motivate you to give him directions. But no amount of psyching yourself up could have prepared you for when another person walked up to him. She asked the question you had been meaning to ask for the past three minutes, assuming she was a college student. He grinned at the worried girl.

He was stunningly gorgeous when he smiled.

Wholly unfair how he exudes an aura of elegance whilst wearing normal clothes while you look like a sloppy burrito wrapped by a beige shawl this dead of night.

“Oh, no, no. I am not at all lost. I’m simply looking for someone.”

Everyone was fairly sure that person would never arrive, but he stayed roving around the room, pacing back and forth as if the person he was looking for will arrive the next minute. Whoever it was, you were starting to get angry on his behalf. Who would leave such an attractive man waiting? It was improper.

But to be honest, you have already admitted to yourself that your life is quite dull— so you’re aware that this nonsensical drama you had over this imaginary person stemmed from boredom.

Out of the blue, he fixed his gaze on you.

The stranger’s eyes softened. The simmering panic in his expression vanished in an instant the moment he saw your face, and his mouth gaped open for a short while before he sauntered forward, ignoring the student who awkwardly shuffled back to her waiting spot.

You immediately felt small, upright, and astoundingly nervous. Not ready to be accosted by anyone at all.

“There you are…” He gave you that smile again. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Mx. (Y/n).”

You scanned the area before jabbing your finger at your chest. He nodded as if you were being ridiculous to consider that it may be someone else.

Ah, so the lookalike was waiting for you.

You were mentally fighting yourself.

“I’m ███████ █████,” he said in a gentle tone— not at all reflecting the stressed out look he sported a moment before. “— The new product manager. I’m an incredibly recent hire, so please do not feel bad for not recognizing my face.”

That wasn’t the reason why your eyebrows were knitted, though. It’s because you DO recognize his face, but you doubt he’d take you for a reasonable person should you start pointing out his physical similarities with a fictional character.

███████ █████, huh? His full name is a bit average-sounding. Sounds like something you may have read on an early 2000s Weaboo forum on "What would your Japanese name be?" which lists down dates, birth months, and the first letter of a person's first name. However, it wasn’t entirely unbelievable— you just chalked him up as an unfortunate kid whose parents were eager to give their son the name "John Doe" when given the chance.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mister █████.”

“P-Please,” he shook his head. “Let’s drop the formalities. We shall work alongside together officially tomorrow. I would like for us to talk more casually if you would not mind.”

His vocabulary was painfully filled with constrictive pleasantries for someone who seemed to be eager to have a casually cordial relationship with you. Since a product manager and a district manager have roughly equal levels of authority in your company, his desire for friendship isn't too shocking.

Yet, you can’t help but stare… It’s still so strange how he also has a mole right underneath his lip.

He looks just like Kamisato Ayato from Genshin Impact, but not for long.

At first, you envied █████’s youthful glow and wanted it for yourself, but upon learning that he will replace Mister Blaiddyd, you mentally prayed that he wouldn’t lose his mind from stress like his predecessor. That’s how stressful being a product manager is. Give him two months and he’d probably start ruining his coiffed hair during crunch times.

“Understood,” your eyes darted back to the bus station, which remained regrettably devoid of any vehicle. You were starting to consider taking a taxi to avoid this awkward conversation but there’s not a single one in sight. “Since you’ve mentioned that you were trying to find me, might I ask why that is, exactly?”

“Ah, yes,” he instinctively adjusted his collar. His sharp and sophisticated face never averted away from you. “You see— Miss Goneril had informed me that I should approach you if I had any concerns about work.”

Ahh… Hilda…

His future plight still doesn’t change how annoying this situation is. Can’t believe you’re already assigned to helping a newbie out as soon as you got your promotion. She’s planning to milk your kindness dry this month, isn’t she? Despite being your best work friend, Hilda doesn’t have to be unkind to someone to exploit them. But you suppose you wouldn’t mind too much, given how he doesn’t look half-bad. Call it vain, call it a “coping mechanism”, but there wouldn’t be any shame on your end to teach a new attractive coworker the ropes of your job.

You'll treat him nicely. As the good Samaritan you are, maybe you'll also ask him to give up while he's ahead for good measure.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind helping you out—”

“I'm most grateful!”

“—but it is VERY late.”

You took a quick look at your phone. 11:53 PM—and there were three messages from Miss Goneril confirming that █████ is the new hire. Since Hilda never filtered her remarks when it came to... aesthetically pleasing people, you instantly pocketed your phone. It was a grave oversight on your end that Hilda found out earlier that you weren't paying attention to her babbling earlier. You wouldn't get such a long message on how "hot" █████'s mole was if you were a better pretender. Her thirst was kind of unsettling.

Ah, whatever. You’ll just delete it later.

You held back a yawn, “where’s your stop?”

“███ ███████.”

“Ah, that’s where I drop off too.”

Additionally, it is the bus's final stop, so you would have to spend a lot more time with him. Great. You hoped he wouldn't try to strike up a conversation with some small talk.

He placed his hand on his chin. Now that he’s up close, you realized just how long his sleeves were. The silhouette nearly reminded you of Kamisato Ayato once more. █████ nodded with a half-teasing smile.

“Oh, not to worry, I know.”

Hilda must have told him right away. You secretly hoped that the main reason she paired you two up was because of your shared destination so you could applaud her wise decision-making skills, but you knew better. Once more, Hilda is attempting to match you with someone.

You cleared your throat, “well then, you better prepare yourself with some sleepless nights because the buses around here don’t come around plenty. You’d have to stand most of the time—”

He muttered something again, “three minutes left.”

“Hmm?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing. I’ve recently moved here so please do continue explaining.”

“… Right.” You sighed, “do you live in ██████████?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’d go in opposite directions. I live in █████ so this is the only bus we share.”

“Unfortunately.”

That almost made you snort. Unfortunately? It's not at all unfortunate, though. During these hours, you rarely feel socially motivated to communicate, and you just know deep down that once he starts working, you'll find a method to board buses separately from him.

“If it’s alright for me to quickly digress— may I trouble you with something, (Y/n)?”

“Sure.”

“May I take a picture with you?” █████ asked. “I want to upload it in my Instagram Story to show my friends and family that I’m faring well. They’ve been insistent that I should make friends on my first day of work— even when based on technicalities, this doesn’t qualify as my first day.”

He must be the eldest and the breadwinner of the ████████ family. That's admirable. Working with someone like him is not a problem for you. They constantly know how to get the job done.

“I don’t mind,” you said, slightly nervous. “But can you not add any weird stuff?”

“Weird stuff?”

“Like, maybe a “my new coworker is ugly” or something like that.”

“W-What?!” █████ jolted. “I would never do such a thing! Especially towards you, my bel—”

“R-Relax, that was just a joke.” Not really. “Is it okay if I don’t take my face mask off?”

“… Of course, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Great.”

█████ scooted closer to you, placing his phone up and angling it in the direction that mostly showed your face. It’s as if he didn’t want his face to be seen, but with a handsome face like that? You’re highly doubtful that is the case. His hands were trembling. The poor man must’ve been incredibly sleep deprived and running on coffee like you.

Unwittingly, you placed your hand above his to steady his phone and you heard him gasp softly. You quickly withdrew your hand away as though you touched a hot kettle when its anything but warm.

His hands were cold, it almost didn’t feel human.

“Oh— sorry!” You shrugged, cringing. “I didn’t mean to—”

“N-No, it’s fine!” He chuckled nervously. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I have been told that I am terrible at using a Kamera.”

Why does he say “camera” with a hard “K”? You’ve never heard anyone else pronounce it in that way. Possibly a local accent. It was tempting to ask where he’s from but perhaps that topic would be better brought up some other time. Asking that question might just make him miss his family more, and his parents might be wide-awake right now anticipating any form of reassurance that their child is doing fine.

“Then allow me to take the pic for us.”

He smiled eagerly, “I would greatly appreciate that.”

█████ handed you his phone. You set it up at the same angle he had originally intended, although this time his phone's screen displayed both your faces more clearly. Although you made an effort to contain your emotions, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by how much he resembles Kamisato Ayato. You mentally readied yourself for the possibility that you would feel his breath on your neck, but you didn't feel him breathe. That doesn’t make you feel untouched, however, since he rested his hand on your shoulder to pull you close enough for the picture.

Is he holding his breath?

“Stay still,” he commanded.

You clenched your fist, trying hard NOT to think about how close his voice is to Chris Hackney’s.

After you pressed the shutter button at least three times, you opened the pictures you’ve taken.

He really does have a beautiful smile.

“Is there something wrong with my face…?”

“Hmm? N-No,” you sputtered out. “I just thought it was a good pic.”

“I’m glad,” he laughed heartily. “I’m still getting used to this face after all.”

… Huh.

Maybe you lack sleep, but the photos remind you of those AI-generated photos on social media— the stolen ones that artists rightfully plead credit for. Maybe you just find him excessively gorgeous because he reminded you of a fictional character you were familiar with, but his appearance somehow seems otherworldly…

“11:55, one minute left.” He muttered again as he crooned above your neck, gazing at his phone.

“For what?”

█████ laughed heartily.

“For the bus, of course!”

You raised an eyebrow. The station was incredibly empty. You genuinely can’t tell who would lie to him about that.

“Sorry, █████, I don’t know who told you that but there’s genuinely no pattern as to when the bus arrives here. That’s fake news—”

“██████████!!! ██████████!!!”

You immediately snap your neck at the sound of the bus conductor.

“H-Huh?” Your eyes widened.

█████ wore a smug smile on his face as he watched you stare at his phone in disbelief. He was correct; the time was 11:56 pm. But before he had time to gloat and act “mysterious”, you snatched his cold hand and sprinted for the seats— apologizing to the college student you bumped into along the way.

No way in hell you’re going to wait for the next bus.

“We need to go! Now!!!”

You woke up the next day feeling more tired than the previous morning.

Tuesday means that you will inevitably have to work today. You woke up before your alarm, but instead of being a responsible adult and opening up a parcel of bread with hot coffee on the side, you rolled on your bed to whisk your charged phone from the nightstand. You received notifications from several social media apps and a work email from Mister Gautier, but you'd prefer not to startle yourself by hearing one of your subordinate's absurd justifications for being absent. Instead, you launched the Instagram app that you reluctantly installed because of Hilda.

The picture you took together with █████ is still up on his Story.

The image is just as you recall it. You might even say that your opinion of his appearance significantly increased after a good night's sleep. How did you manage to converse with your new coworker last night without turning into a stammering wreck when he is THIS drop-dead gorgeous? You're confident the picture wasn't edited in any way. After all, you saw him upload it directly to his phone's social media account because you wanted to make sure he wouldn't add any odd captions. Congrats to █████ for being incredibly photogenic. He genuinely looks like an AI-generated person with how flawless he appeared. You would have told Hilda straight away that whatever she was swooning over had to be some kind of catfish if you hadn't met him—

You squinted.

…

“Wait a second.”

You looked closely at his hand which rested on top of your shoulder.

“… Are those six fingers?”

That can’t be right.

Sure, he does look like an AI-generated person in the flesh but six fingers? Absurd. It’s probably due to the horrible lighting.

You can’t zoom in on a story, so you took a screenshot but—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Shit.”

You had no time to spare. Hastily, you rolled out, tossed your phone on the bed, and staggered to the restroom. You had to go as soon as possible since you have a meeting this morning. At this rate, soldiers who lived ration by ration likely had a healthier diet than you– but your boss is the embodiment of evil.

You’ll just have to look at the image later.

“Bad morning?”

“Oh, nice to see you here, █████.”

█████ grinned, pointing at the chair beside you, “would you mind if I sit?”

You smiled politely, “I don’t own this place, you know?”

He chuckled, “fair enough.”

It's 4:07 PM. Even though one of your team members arrived later than expected, you eventually built momentum and finished the presentation on a high note. Working with Mr. Gautier is such a headache. Thankfully, district managers have to go out in the field, so before you know it, you've excused yourself to eat lunch at your preferred café. The barely-melted coffee powder you had at home wasn't going to help you get through the day like your favorite cup here. Your cup was no longer a "morning joe", but better late than never.

█████ sank on the cafe’s chair, inhaling the aroma of the rich coffee you ordered. You assumed yet again that it was Miss Goneril’s atrocious wingman skills that led him to this place. His shoulders relaxed a bit afterward as he eyed your cup.

“I do wonder what real coffee tastes like…” █████ mumbled.

You'd give it to him, but you're stressed out—probably more so than he is, given that your supervisor basically holds his hand around the office like a newborn child. The gravity of the problems you carry as a District Manager is nothing to laugh at, either. It’s just a matter of getting used to it.

“Looking already stressed on your official first day, hmm?” You teased before you sipped your cup, pretending you don’t feel his jealous eyes. “Is being a Project Manager not what you had expected?”

█████ shook his head, scoffing with a lopsided grin.

“Oh no, I used to have bigger workloads. I’m only behaving this way since I’m not used to moving this face often.”

This face, huh? What a unique yet expected phrasing. After all, he is so attractive that it wouldn't surprise you if he thought of his face as a separate entity that must be maintained. █████ must be the type of person who cares an awful lot for skin care and self-love. Good for him, good for him.

“Never worked in retail before?” You tilted your head. “Never practiced your customer service smile?”

“In a way, yes,” he chuckled. “I am more accustomed to working behind the scenes since my younger sister takes most of the spotlight in the commi— our family business.”

█████ sure laughs a lot.

“Ah, is she something of an entertainer?” You teased. Knowing a thing or two about other people’s younger siblings, you anticipated some messy anecdotes which served to amplify your opinions on how chaotic having siblings is.

“No. On the contrary, she’s incredibly reserved and poised.”

“Then I bet there’s just something charismatic about her— is she the artistic type?”

“She is. Our family’s beloved princess is quite skilled in the art of dancing and calligraphy. You ought to watch her perform someday.”

You made an effort not to grin foolishly as humiliating thoughts ran rampant inside your head. His sister sounds like Ayaka already. How surreal would it be if you opened up your phone and did your Daily Commissions in front of him—

Oh, right! Your phone— that screenshot!

You ferreted your phone out of your bag, side-eyeing him each time you failed to find it inside its mini-pockets. █████ kept smiling as you busied yourself in hopes you’d locate your phone sooner. To fill in the dead air (and to avoid getting uncomfortable knowing that a man was keeping a close eye on you), you got right onto the meat of the subject by asking questions.

“Hey— I know this is weird, but can I see your hands?”

█████ didn’t respond for a while, lost in a trance before you lightly waved at his face. His soft gaze broke as he blinked fast multiple times.

“My… hands? Alright.”

He pulled his long sleeves— which iconically trailed longer than any other coat in the company— to smoothly show off his slender fingers. █████ glanced at his wristwatch in the process. 4:09 PM. Just one minute more.

Meanwhile, you flinched. He clearly had five fingers in each hand. The normal amount. You didn’t know what exactly you were expecting.

“Hah, I’m definitely sleep deprived,” you spoke humorously. “When I checked our picture this morning I swear I saw six fingers.”

He didn’t laugh. Slowly, he closed his eyes, unamused.

“You’re wrong.”

█████’s voice dipped low.

You never realized how warm his servile gazes were until he starts looking at you with a cold glare.

You felt your spine tremble as you took note of how he crossed his arms. What’s with this sudden shift in atmosphere? Shouldn’t he laugh at how strange your question was instead?

Why did he sound so offended?

Due to the nature of his tone, you sputtered out an excuse to bring back the light conversation you had before, “must’ve been because its dark— here hold on I took a screenshot of it.”

You opened your gallery, not bothering to scroll deep into it since it should be a recent photo. Yet, you paused, and frantically swiped up and down. You expected that screenshot to be the first image that greets you upon opening the app, but you only saw an entirely black PNG file. Why on earth did that screenshot turn void? You tried searching but you only found recent scans from the last week’s meetings and some “candid” selfies Hilda most likely snapped for herself.

This makes no sense whatsoever! You swore you took the screenshot earlier and there was no notification that it failed to save it.

“█████” smirked.

11:56 PM M: (Y/n) waits at the bus station.

02:33 AM T: (Y/n) arrives home.

8:01 AM T: (Y/n) has a meeting.

4:10 PM T: (Y/n) looks at their phone at Cafe █████.

4:10 PM. GONE.

You’re so adorable when you have your phone close to your face with your eyebrows knitted like that… Oh, his dear beloved, you nearly got him…

It’s such a shame that he knows your phone like the back of his palm.

“Is something the matter, (Y/n)?”

Kamisato Ayato chuckled behind his sleeve.

You wouldn’t meet his eye, “I was pretty certain I took a screenshot of it this morning, this is so strange…”

Quickly, you opened Instagram to check “█████”’s Story, but the image was missing as well. Since Stories only expire after 24 hours, and it has only been a little over half that time since it was posted, it shouldn't have disappeared. Your eyes remained glued to your phone, unbeknownst to the sinister smile your coworker wore amidst your defeated state.

“Say, did you remove your Stor—”

“Here.”

“█████” slid his phone onto the table.

You picked it up. It’s the picture you two had at the station. You zoomed in on his hand.

Five fingers.

“… Yeah, it’s definitely five,” you whimpered almost inaudibly. “Here I thought I could show you something funny. Damn. I’m really sleep-deprived.”

“I know, you sleep at around 2:30 after all.”

“Yeah—”

You took a breath and then shook your head. There is no need to be skeptical about that statement; it's simple arithmetic. He reportedly knows a lot about accounting, thus he most likely estimated the length of your ride home as if it were a no-brainer. You gave him a wary smile. He's a lot more calculating than you first thought; he even picked up that you were looking for the photo you took the night before without your having to tell him.

Doing what needed to be done without being asked…

“█████” swiftly took his phone back.

“Now then, would you care to enlighten me as to what tastes good on this cafe’s menu?”

You smiled.

Yeah. You think you’ll get along with the new Project Manager just fine.

“Why, it’ll be my pleasure! First off, the frappe here is not that bad…”

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 2 months

Text

Fringe Benefits

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: “you’re spending more time at my desk than at your own” for Roy

Roy Kent x Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Language

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

You turned around, smiling at Roy as he strolled into his office. He raised his thick eyebrows at you, nodding a greeting. You wondered if he could see the way your eyes flickered down his figure, checking him out, the way you could never resist doing when you saw him.

You’d been working at A.F.C. Richmond for about three months now, having been hired by Keeley Jones to manage their PR. It was a fun job and, if you were being honest, the sight of Roy Kent in those track pants was definitely a perk.

“Hey,” you hummed. “I was just leaving you a note.” You nodded at the sticky note you’d begun to write on before the sound of his growling voice interrupted you. “Got those concert tickets for you and Pheebs for Friday. But make sure you post on your Instagram, alright?” You gave his arm a playful smack. “Or I’m never doing you a favor ever again.”

A smile broke out across that handsome face. “Fuck, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” He paused, gazing at you thoughtfully. “This is what, the third time today you’ve been down here?” He narrowed his playful eyes at you. “I think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own. What, you using me to get your fucking steps in?”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe your crush on Roy Kent was obvious to everyone at Nelson Road. Keeley teased you about it nonstop. The players, especially Jamie Tartt, often gave you sly, knowing smiles when they saw you make your familiar way to Roy’s office. Even little Phoebe had asked you if you were her Uncle Roy’s girlfriend when she met you at a Greyhounds match- a question she repeated every time you saw her, actually.

“Come on Kent, you know I just come visit you for the snacks.” To punctuate your point, you opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a sweet. With a wink, you popped the treat into your mouth.

Now Roy rolled his eyes at you as he approached you, standing a smidge too close, the way he’d been doing almost since the day you started working at Nelson Road. “And here I thought you came all the way down here for the pleasure of my company.”

Another sweet found its way into your mouth. “Ah, that’s just a fridge benefit, Coach.”

“Fringe benefit, eh?” Roy snorted, his cheeks tinging pink as he glanced down at the floor. Fuck, he looked adorable like this. How could a man look bashful and confident at once? And how could he look so damn good at the same time? “So, you’re basically using me to manage your sweets cravings, then?”

“Afraid so, Kent.”

He nodded as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Then maybe you let me buy you some kind of fruity drink after work today. For your cravings.” He smirked. “And the fridge benefit of my company.”

Could he see the way the color rushed to your cheeks? “O-oh. Yeah. That would be nice.” You took a step back towards the door, needing to run back to your office and call Keeley to squeal- and maybe ask her to come drop off a change of clothes. “I’ll see you after work then.” As you turned, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you suddenly felt, Roy cleared his throat.

“Oi.” You glanced over your shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his cocky grin. “And see if you can get one more ticket for that concert. You don’t have plans Friday, do you?”

Oh hell. If your smile got any bigger, your cheeks would probably crack. “I’m free,” you managed. “And I’d love to go to the concert with you guys.”

Roy nodded, looking nothing short of pleased. “Right. I should let you go back to your work, then.” His expression became teasing again. “I’m sure you’ll be back down here in an hour or so. I’ll have some snacks waiting for you.”

A giggle tumbled out of your mouth as you shook your head at Roy. “I’m sure you will.” With a little wave, you strolled away, already coming up with another excuse to come back downstairs to visit Roy Kent.

#tally's birthday bash #request ❤️#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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octuscle · 9 months

Note

Life in France is amazing ! I couldn't be happier with my handsome boyfriend Claude, holding hands and kissing not caring what people thought of us, living the life in Amiens.

We were on our daily walk around the city when a random sprinkler broke and completely soaked us with water ! The landcapist, a thirty-ish man started to apologize in spanish though I couldn't understand a thing. Luckily Claude had taken some classes after work and after a bit of laughing and joking around everything was fine.

José, as he was called, offered us some exchange clothes, Claude refused but as I was completely wet, clothes heavy and shoes filled with water, I gladly accepted. He gave me some of his spare clothes : thin work pants and a simple white shirt. Both were way to big for me but I wouldn't be wearing them for long, José even offered me to change in the back of his van which I gladly accepted too.

Claude and I rapidly walked back home so we could clean ourselves. He told me I was quite handsome in the Gardening clothes and went right to the bathroom, while I stayed back, thinking about what my boyfriend just said. With a malicious grin I took his phone and opened the app he had shown me last week. We had used it once to have some fun but remained cautious since a single wrong manipulation could seriously mess with our lives.

I selected myself as a target, and activated "Change to fit environment" and set the timer for three days. I then went to Claude's profile and made him oblivious to all the changes. This will be fun ! I took my working clothes off and joined my boyfriend in the shower.

The next day I woke at 5 am, Claude was still sleeping and I myself didn't manage to go back to sleep. That's when it hit me ! I was supposed to work for a big client today ! I knew this memory wasn't mine but I didn't care, I just had to get along and the changes would happen themselves ! Claude was in for a big surprise once I made him aware of the changes again !

I put on my working clothes which were still too big for me and went on my way taking the bus to one of the nicer parts of Amiens where all the rich people lived. On the ride I noticed how my muscles were swelling the closer I got to my destination, my feet were nicely filling my work boots and my shirt was stretched by my chest. My hands and fingers got thicker and meatier, callouses formed on them like I had done a lot of manual labor. I couldn't help but explore my bigger face, pressing my fingers on my plump lips, feeling my shorter hair.

I flexed my swollen arms and stretched my legs, noticing how nicely I fit José's clothes like they were almost made for me. Speaking of José, I could see him stationing our van in front of this massive property. The client wanted us to install a massive colorful flowerbed for some marriage of one of his grandsons. I managed to overhear some bits of conversation, his grandson was gay, and will be marrying another man called Claude, how odd !

José and I went ahead and started digging up the ground. I remembered applying at his company for an apprenticeship, it was hard to communicate at first since he spoke little french, but he was impressed how fast and well I could get the work done, so after my apprenticeship he hired me as a full time employee.

As we were planting the last flowers, the sun was already setting and it was too late for us to drive across the city to go home, so we simply slept in my car, that I had parked there this morning. I sent a rapid text to Claude, letting him know I'd not come home tonight since I needed to finish some work.

The next morning I woke up in José's arms. He held me tight against him and I started panicking a little, we weren't clothed ! But he didn't seem to mind, he just stroked across my stomach, ruffling through the thick hair growing there. This seemed to calm me a little as I turned around and to him in my arms too, resting my head on his. Our legs entangled and we fell asleep again for another hour.

When we woke up again we rapidly changed for work, my body was stretching the pants and the shirt but I didn't mind showing off. In fact I found it quite exciting as I chuckled dumbly. José started to explain to me what needed to be done today and I answered in a lacking french, some Spanish words finding their way in my speech.

As we were trimming hedges big beads of sweat started appearing on my darkening skin, I was now properly tan, as my hair changed from brown to thick black strands. More hair covered my arms, and my legs, making me progressively look more and more like José, except that I was still ten years younger than him. I wanted to let Claude know that I was coming home early today as we had been particularly fast with work today, but then I thought about surprising him with some fresh flowers from the florist around the corner. José told me he wanted to finish watering the flowers we planted yesterday, and told me to go home before him since he didn't need more help. Thanking him, I took my car and drove back home.

The apartment I opened wasn't the one I knew. It was more messy but bigger, tools were lying around here and there, while fresh clothes were strung all around our apartment. I went straight to the bathroom and took a shower first, Claude didn't seem to be home so I then made myself a fast microwave dinner before dropping down In front of the TV. Everything was in Spanish, I had a hard time understanding what all the different characters were saying, but it became more clearer as time went by, I could grasp more and more words and even found myself laughing my ass off at the different jokes that were being made. Soon José came home, kissing me on the lips before going to take a shower. Wait ? Where was Claude ?! I took out my phone and wanted to write to him but it suddenly got smaller and smaller before folding in on itself and becoming one of these older Nokias !

I started to panic as I tried to find his number in the smaller phone ! I couldn't find it anywhere ! I tried to explain the situation to José but he just told me to stop trying to speak French, and that I should stick to Spanish, he couldn't understand a bit ! Not knowing what to do, I lay myself on the couch before rapidly falling asleep.

The next morning I woke up next to my fiancée. Wait, no ! I'm supposed the be with Claude ! I went out of bed but stumbled as my body had changed again overnight. My legs were thick as tree stumps, my arms and biceps had swollen again. I had developed a slight belly too, hiding my abs under a slight layer of fat ! Looking in the mirror revealed an older face, like I had aged ten years during my sleep ! I need to find Claude's phone before the day is over !

I first started to look for our old place, but instead of finding Claude's apartment there was an old lady living there, telling me the last tenant had moved in with his rich boyfriend three years ago ! That's when I remembered the wedding !

I went to my car, speeding to the property we had last worked on, not noticing my vehicle becoming bigger, whiter, transforming into a big van. When I arrived back at the villa I saw Claude holding hands with another man ! I tried to cross the gate but they couldn't understand me ! They didn't even want to let me through ! I need to get to my employers phone before the timer reaches 0 ! I don't want to be stuck as a gardener !

Sequel from @gkutfdvnn to https://www.tumblr.com/octuscle/721304900555915264/my-french-roommate-is-going-through-a-tough?source=share

Whew! This is by far the longest request I've ever received…. And accordingly, it took a bit longer to process. But I'm afraid I can't do much more here either. Claude is as good as married. And José and you, you love each other. I must also say that the result of your transformation is pretty cool. Hermano, ¡te ves bien!

I just changed a few little things on you so that you and José can have a lot of fun.

José is a really good catch! Hermano, hold on to this one as best you can. But since you've been working out more and taking care of your diet, that shouldn't be a problem. Nobody can get out of your arms so easily…

And what you can't do with your arms, you can do with your smile. I admit, this was probably all planned quite differently. But make the best of it. You are an even more beautiful couple than Claude and you were.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #tank top #race change #male transformation

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violetmina · 10 months

Text

Chokehold - Ch. 10

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot @itsyellow @lmarina2000 @d3adite666 @casualfansoul @missrandomheart @cvstle

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,067

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, mentions of bodily harm, blood, and good ol’ Butcher himself.

A/N: Honestly, this chapter is basically a whole lot of whump and comfort. And despite my best efforts, Butcher might be a bit OOC for it. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy.

"Jesus, Butcher!"

With a flurry of fingers you snatch your phone from the floor before you can step on it, discarding it on the counter to approach the bloody man. You turn on the faucet after seizing a washcloth from one of the drawers, your stomach clenching at the sight of so much red swirling down the drain. It's then you finally notice your first aid kit on the other side of the sink, already half gutted by your unexpected visitor.

He's awake and something akin to alert. But you can tell that Butcher isn't processing on all cylinders. It's not until you wring out the cloth and turn to him that he catches your intent. He bats at your hand when you reach to wipe at the left side of his face. "Nah, nah. Stop. Stop! I don' need fuckin' motherin'!"

"No, but you could use a hand," you quip with strained patience.

"I told ya, I got it!"

Both of you swear when he reaches for the first aid and his bloody hand slips on the edge of the basin, nearly sending him into the mirror. You grab his belt and begin to gently tug him back towards the toilet. "C'mon, Billy. Sit down, just for a min-"

"Fuck off! I can-!"

"Sit!"

He glares at you through his seeping war paint. He grunts when you give a good yank on his belt, causing him to totter before he begrudgingly slumps onto the toilet lid. The glare grows into a full-on man pout, and in any other circumstance you might have laughed. Instead, you nudge one of his boots to the side with your foot and stand between his knees. You begin cleaning at his temple, making quick but gentle work of trying to find the source of blood.

"I'd have done it me self just fine," he grumbles when you clear around his eye. "Wasn't expecting you home this early anyway."

"Early? Butcher it's late. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since you left the office."

The pout gives way to confusion. "Has it really?," he asks, more to himself than you. He smears blood from the face of his watch and squints at the time. "Christ. S'pose you're right."

"What happened, Billy? How'd you end up in my bathroom like this?"

"Well I let myself in."

The groggy smirk he gives you is a double-edged sword. You're not certain if it's an indication that he's fairly ok, or if he's using humor to deflect. You take a slow, deep breath before replying, "I can see that. What happened after you left the hospital last night?"

"What'd MM tell ya?"

"He told me about the girl. No one has seen you since then. I'm asking you."

The biting edge of worry begins to gnaw at your guts as you rinse the cloth and try to clean his cheeks, what you can dab out of his beard. What if his head injury is worse than you thought? How impaired might his memory be?

A look of concentration flits in his eyes before he finally speaks. "Tracked down the club she told us about. Paid their security a little visit. Was waiting to be led back to their surveillance room when I got ambushed."

"By whom? Vought?"

"Not Vought," he winces when you swipe into his hairline. "Couldn't've gotten there ahead of me like that. I think Walsh used Vought's squawker to stay ahead of the company lackeys when they went snooping. But now he's gonna know somebody else is digging up his side hustle. Bastards he hired looked like third party thugs."

You rinse the cloth again and begin gingerly sweeping through his hair, his wince your first clue of where his wound may be. Your free hand works at parting the thick, sodden strands. "You mean he's hired people not part of Vought, to cover his tracks, right?"

"Believe so. They didn't act like the usual company muppets. Fuckin' hell, love!" He hisses before sending you an annoyed glance. "Don't mind a hair-pulling kink but you're fucking scalping me here!"

"I'm sorry. You're clotting so bad it's matting. I need you to move to sit on the edge of the tub."

"What? Why?"

"Please don't make this any harder," you sigh, gripping his belt again to help him shuffle over to the lip of the bath. Once he's seated and balanced to your liking, you unhook the shower head and start a slow warm flow. "I have to get some of the blood out of your hair. I can't see your scalp."

"Should probably clean this one first," Butcher grits as he starts fiddling with his shirt.

You turn from the water with a frown. "Clean what one f-? Oh my god!"

A knot of nausea squeezes your belly at the sight that appears when he slips off the left side of his shirt. The rivers of blood trace from his fingertips up to just under the end of his clavicle. There in front of the socket is a lumpy, pocket-like wound just under the skin from which the blood oozes, a long gouge trailing back from it towards his sternum like a thin, shallow comet tail. As his fingers begin to prod about the lump you realize that it is a pocket, and in it-.

"You didn't tell me you were shot!" You drop the shower head and reach for some of the clean gauze still left in the first aid kit. When you turn back, it's just in time to watch him squeeze the pocket with gritted teeth and watch the bullet slip out. He fumbles with a pant of relief as it drops into his slick palm. Before you can even process, he gives it a feeble toss over your shoulder. It clatters in the sink.

"Least it wasn't a hollow point," he mumbles. "Woulda been real messy."

"No. Nuh-uh," you stammer finally. "I'm taking you-."

"Nowhere." Butcher manages a steely look in your direction. "Can't go to the hospital. They'll be looking for me."

"Ok. Maybe if I call MM then-"

"Not doing that either. We split at the ER for a reason." Then almost under his breath, "Shouldn't have even come here."

You dart forward, cursing as you press the gauze against the wound firmly. He manages to sneak his right hand under yours to take over. "Calm down, it was more of a graze. Superficial. Hardly needs packing."

"Calm down? Any deeper and this-!" You cut off at the realization; if it had entered a mere inch or so further back it likely would have torn through the top of his lungs, his lower windpipe. Not wanting to dwell on it, you glare at his reckless face before ripping through your kit for packing, a sterile q-tip and an ampoule of sterile water. You pry his fingers and gauze back long enough to clean around the shallow pocket, trying to rinse without saturating. Then follow suit on the graze. "Don't know how the hell you got so lucky," you spit as you place the miniscule amount of packing needed into the bullet hole once the bleeding had been staunched. "Didn't even know this was possible."

"Nah. Seen weirder in my bootneck days," he says with a lopsided shrug, holding the left side still as you apply a dry dressing.

"I don't wanna know." Again, you rinse the cloth, which now is tinted a stubborn pink and set to cleaning off his arm. When he tries to take it from you, you snatch it back. "You're going to let me finish. Now what did you mean? Why did you come here?"

"I shoulda gone to my place," he admits quietly, eyeing the cloth in a way that tells you he is not going to fully cooperate. "Just couldn't quite get there on foot."

His skin finally loses its sanguinous sheen and you abandon the cloth in the sink for a fresh clean one. Setting it aside on the edge, you reach back down into the tub and retrieve the shower head. He attempts to slip it from your fingers but you manage to evade. "I'm almost done, Billy. How about you chill for five minutes of your life?"

"I think I can manage washing myself," he snaps.

"Didn't say you couldn't. You need to mind your shoulder though." You maneuver back between his knees. "If it doesn't make you too dizzy, you need to tilt your head back. Let's see if I can keep from soaking your new dressing. I can't speak for your shirt."

"Oh God forbid you get me bloodstained shirt a little wet." Butcher slips the right side off with a shrug and dangles the shirt between you with his good arm and a bit of exasperation. He tosses it onto the floor, next to his jacket in the corner you realize, before trying yet again to snatch the shower head. He nearly falls off the edge of the tub in the process and you bite back an expletive when you help right him again with your free hand on the back of his neck.

"Please, Billy." It comes out soft, almost tired.

He scowls at you for a moment. You almost wonder if he had heard your plea over the water. Then finally he grips the edge of the tub and slowly tilts his head back.

You dive in before he can change his mind, moving your hand from his neck to his hairline to block water from running into his face. In mere seconds your bath resembles your sink, bloody water dripping in little streams from the back of his skull. There had been many times over the past couple months your fingers had itched with want to run through Butcher's unruly locks. But you never pictured it being like this, easing and crumbling clots from his hair, fingertips only ghosting the roots for fear of pulling at the injured scalp beneath.

Briefly there had been a moment where you thought he might be coming around. But you still catch glimpses of it in his eyes, the brain fog that rolls in and out like a tide. When he begins to lean too far back and blindly reaches out to catch at your waist instead of the tub, you don't comment. But your worry grows in the sound of the running water, then doubles in size at a sudden thought.

"Please tell me I'm not about to find a bullet here, too."

The corner of his mouth curls and the brain fog ebbs out of his eyes. Mischief replaces it. "Don't be daft. I'm not a zombie out for your brains. Those twats were piss-poor shots anyway."

"Your spanking new dressings say otherwise," you deadpan. A second after and you finally find it. A long jagged gash arcing just behind his left temple and back, stopping a couple inches before his ear. You lower the shower head into the tub again to inspect further. "Definitely not a bullet wound. What made this?"

"Dunno," Butcher replies. "One threw something, didn't see what. Clocked me right as I rounded a corner."

"Threw it at you?"

"Pretty sure his gun jammed just before. Fucking amateur," he says smugly.

You shake your head. "Whatever it was, it got you good. Luckily it's not too deep. Just made you bleed like a stuffed pig. And I suspect a slight concussion. Those steri-strip things would be best but I don't think they'll stay with all your hair. I should have some liquid bandage stuff in the kit though."

You pick up the clean cloth and start dabbing at the broken skin, trying to be gentle. Once it's a bit more dry, you slip back just far enough to turn and dip into your kit. After a bit of rummaging you find the little tube you're looking for. With the faintest tapping on the back of his skull, you signal for him to ease his head to forward. You start applying the gel on the wound, working from the back towards his temple.

If he notices the sting that usually comes with liquid stitches, he says nothing. As a matter of fact, he's rather quiet as the minutes pass. Enough to unsettle you again as you reach the end of the gash. Satisfied with your work, you discard the tube with a toss back into the kit before carefully dipping both hands into his hair. When he arches a brow at you, you reply, "Just checking for any other wounds. And making sure the rest of your skull is still intact."

Still he says nothing and allows you to examine him further. He's already got a hell of a knot forming around the gash. But as you tread your fingertips along his scalp, you find no further injury. When your fingers reach far enough to touch, lacing round the back of his head, he makes a small hum in his throat. You glance at his face, finding his eyes flitting just a bit, more foggy than before.

When you snap your hands back to hold his face, he comes straight back to alert. "Wha-?"

"Look straight ahead. Need to see your eyes."

He stares back at you, brow arching again. "The hell you doing now?," he asks dryly.

"I'm checking for nystagmus."

"Plain English, Nurse Ratched."

"Involuntary eye movements. Like when you look at something but your eyes keep ticking away then right back. Thought I saw it a second ago."

He surprises you with a chuckle, and it manages to smooth out some of your concern. "I think I'll live if I have a lazy eye for a minute, darlin'."

"Not a lazy eye. Nystagmus often happens if there's neurological issues. Surgical sedation can cause it. Or, you know, someone or something trying to bust your head open like a damn pinata. If you have it, I'm calling MM."

His hands on your waist tighten slightly. "No, you're fucking not. I'm fine."

"Shut up and keep your eyes open, William."

Both brows shoot to his hairline for a moment. But they settle and you continue looking into his pupils, waiting for any rhythmic twitching, or any indication of stroke. Long seconds pass and you sigh with relief. No sign of nystagmus. He's got issues for days but at least for tonight it's not brain damage.

"That was a first."

You blink at him, noticing his pupils dilate slightly. "What's a first?"

"You called me William." A smirk starts to form on his face, and your eyes linger a little too long on his lips. "Wasn't that serious, was it?"

"Oh." Caught off guard, you suddenly realize your position. Up close with a shirtless and damp Butcher, cradling his face. You go to drop your hands to his shoulders but remember the bullet wound, and they stutter to an awkward stop on his neck instead. "I was…"

Butcher cuts off your train of thought when he pulls on your hips and leans forward, bringing your foreheads together. "Relax, love," he breathes, still smirking as he flips the roles on you - now he's studying your eyes. "M'alright. Been in way worse shape than this."

"Billy…"

"That's better."

And his lips press against yours without hesitation. It's short, perhaps teasing. But there's that underlying note of tenderness again, and it pulls a smile and a small sound of contentment out of you. Prior doubt slithering away like the water down the drain.

His response to your smile is quick, eyes flashing before his mouth captures yours again, but much firmer. Warm, borderlining hot. When you sigh one of his hands slides up from your waist to cradle the back of your neck. Butcher's mouth moves slow but unyielding against yours, wiping your mind clean of any thought and leaving only awareness of this. A tug on your bottom lip between his teeth morphs your next sigh into a tiny gasp. But it's all he needs to dip his tongue just within, testing, just tasting.

His hand on your hip glides to the small of your back, pulling you till you're almost flushed with him. You give no resistance.

It's not until your shins hit the tub that you realize too late you probably should have. The next second you're both fumbling to catch your fall with a yell. Butcher manages to get one hand on the lip of the tub, and you wrap one arm around his shoulders. Your other hand shoots out to slam against the wall, stopping your awkward, tangled crash. But not before Butcher's head thuds against the faucet.

"Aw fuck me!"

"Shit! Hold on!"

It's a mess, but with a bit more cursing you both strain to an upright position again. Butcher's eyes screw shut with a hiss as he holds the edge with a death grip. "Well if I wasn't concussed before I sure as shit am now!"

Before you can reply a knock sounds from your front door. "Shit! I forgot about the pizza! Don't move, okay? I'll be right back."

"Hold on a tic-"

"Don't. Fucking. Move!," you hiss before darting out the bathroom.

You scramble about till you find a little cash, just enough for a tip. Despite your best efforts, you still managed to get a little blood on the hem of your shirt, tiny specks of it drying on your palms from cleaning up the reckless mess in your bathroom. If the delivery guy notices when you answer the door, he says nothing. Just gives you a bored look and equally flat "have a nice night" as you exchange him for the food, then leaves.

You secure the door and move quickly into the kitchen to drop the pizza on the counter. You snatch a glass and fill it with water then turn back to head to the bathroom for tylenol. Instead you find Butcher filling your bedroom doorway, rubbing the back of his head.

"Damn it! I said don't move!"

"I heard ya. And I'm starving. Gotta do something for this bloody headache." He shuffles to the counter as you slink past him.

"Hold on, just getting you some medicine right now. Give me a sec and I'll see if I can find you some food," you call back.

"It's right here, innit?"

You pop two pills into your palm, then remember you have yet to finish the graze on his chest. Washing your hands and grabbing a packet of ointment, you head back to the kitchen. "Yes, but that's probably one of the worst things for a con-" You let out a sigh at the sight of Butcher already happily halfway through his first slice. "Nevermind. Here."

"Much obliged." He takes the tylenol greedily between bites and washes it down with the whole glass and a wince. Once he takes the last bite of food you rip open the packet and approach him. He shakes his head when you raise a hand towards the graze. "Now hold on-"

"Your hands aren't clean. So hush." When he rolls his eyes you pause in applying to give him a pointed look. "Not going to let you undo all my hard work by getting an infection via pizza grease."

You make quick work of it, focusing on applying just the right amount of ointment to hold off the thoughts of his mouth on yours moments before, or the fact he's standing in your apartment still shirtless. It's hard to ignore, though, what with the planes of his long torso before you, and his broad chest under your hands. But you manage.

With a nod, you step back. "There. Done. I'm going to grab your shirt, maybe I can still save it with a wash."

"Don't bother, love," he replies, seizing another slice from the box. "A wash ain't gonna fix the bullet hole."

Oh no. You're not doing this to me.

"Fair enough. Umm. I might have something then? Give me a minute."

You turn back to your bedroom again, making a beeline for your closet. For several minutes you rife through your clothes and your thoughts. You have no complaints of the kissing, aside from the embarrassing tumble. But you do feel a twinge of guilt. He's not completely well, and you certainly don't want to make things worse. You finally find an old, oversized t-shirt. A dark blue, ragged unisex thing you had kept for housework and "just in case" situations like this, it's hem riddled with holes. It may just fit him.

When you return you find him on your couch, eyes closed, right arm draped lazily across the back.You can't help looking him over. You're not sure what you had expected under those tacky shirts all this time but it wasn't this. He's not chiseled, which you're actually glad for, pleased by the hint of lean muscle under his skin. He's built for useful strength, not showboating. The urge to map his large ribcage and where he's soft or firm with your hands makes your fingers twitch. And the lines of hips you'd only peeked before are now on full display, framing a thin dark trail under his navel, and sloping sharp into his jeans. You'd heard a couple different names for hips like his, Apollo's belt being one. The other was Aphrodite's saddle.

Fuck Aphrodite! That one is mine!

The man has been shot! Can we fucking NOT?!, you snap at the little voice.

You call his name softly and he opens his eyes. A good sign, all things considered. You toss him the shirt before stepping back to get some pizza yourself. "Full already?"

"Nah, just pausing before thirds," Butcher quips as he stiffly tugs on the shirt. Thankfully it's not too snug.

You give him a look when you sit down beside him with your plate. "You got nauseous, didn't you?" He shrugs dismissively but you know better. Not a good sign. After a hesitant bite you decide to switch back to the other pressing matter. "So this lead at the club is a deadend then?"

"Fraid so," he nods solemnly. "Even if one of the others goes back for it, that footage is good as gone now. There'll be another person like that girl, you can count on it. Just have to wait."

"She got lucky," you frown between bites. "We don't know how many others there have been that weren't."

"We can't do anything bout that. We'd be chasing our tails if we tried digging that hard, and Neuman will wonder why our other cases have slowed down all the sudden. Too risky."

You finish your first slice and sigh. Now your appetite is compromised. "So now what?"

Butcher's all too familiar smirk returns. "We do our day jobs as usual, and prep for that gala like we planned. But right now?" He shifts in his seat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into him. He hooks one of your thighs despite your protest and manages to pull you into his lap to face him. "I recall telling you last night that we ain't done."

"Seriously?" You scoff with a wry smile. "Even now?"

"Well no better time than the present, now is there?," he grins. When he leans up to kiss you, you press your fingers against his lips and the other hand on his good shoulder, and push him back. He gives an indignant look.

"As a matter of fact, there is a better time than the present." When he frowns you shake your head and continue. "Billy, you have a goddamn bullet hole under your collarbone. And you're concussed. Almost twice. You need rest, and the less stimulation the better. Not TV, not music, and definitely not getting to know you carnally."

"Stimulation sounds much more fun," he grumbles, still teasing.

"I'm not kicking you out. You can stay. As a matter of fact, I insist."

"Well I'm glad the lady insists."

"But," you press, darting around his flirtatious tone, "It's late. I'm tired. And more importantly, you are tired. Don't lie, I can see it."

"What? Don't fancy me bedroom eyes?"

"You need to heal, Billy," you intone, low but emphatic. "And that requires a quiet place and restful sleep."

He gives a bit of a pout, looking you over as his thumbs rub circles on your thighs. "No pizza, no TV, no sex. Fucking hell, you really are Nurse Ratched."

"You should be supervised for at least forty-eight hours. But you and I both know damn well you're not going to let that happen. Just let me keep an eye on you tonight and I'll quit being your nurse by morning. Okay?"

"No dice. You best have a better deal than that."

"Butcher-"

"How about…I pick some boring drivel on the telly, keep it real low…" His palms smooth warmly over your thighs. "...And you keep more on me than an eye, eh?"

"I keep both eyes on you then," you counter. "And I pick what's on the TV. Final offer. Otherwise, I'll cut the TV cord, kick you to bed and nap here on this couch-"

"You're not kicking yourself outta your own damn bed," he says with a bristling glare. The flirtatious tone returns after a beat. "And I ain't going near it unless you're in it."

"Well look at that, you being a gentleman," you tease. "So? Final offer?"

He stares at you, summing up the options. He's not pleased, obviously. But you can see the fatigue in his face, and you're determined that he makes it through the night without complications. His eyes narrow.

"...What you thinkin' of picking?"

"Something mild, kinda monotonous," you shrug. "Maybe one of those David Attenborough nature docs."

"Oh come off it!," he groans. "Bloody concussion won't kill me but you will bore me to death! I might as well just go to Bo-peep!"

"That's the point," you faux whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh, minutely shaking his head. "Fuck me…Where's your remote?"

"Thank you," you beam before hopping off his lap. You snatch the remote before he gets any ideas, and set everything up, volume down to just audible. You grab one more slice of pizza from the kitchen, putting the rest away in the fridge, then turning off the lights. You set up an alarm on your phone for the end of the show, then a couple more about two hours apart to check on him through the night. The last would be your usual morning wakeup call.

You pad back to the couch where Butcher promptly pulls you down to tuck into his side. He throws an annoyed look at your triumphant expression, before finally easing back into the cushions, his eyes already heavy. You make quick work of your second slice as you feel his breath start to become rhythmic, ready to begin your watch…

It's not till the sound of the first alarm goes off that you realize you, too, had been lulled to sleep. You jolt, scrambling for your phone to quickly silence the alarm. You're disoriented to find that you're still tucked into Butcher but not as before. At some point you must have dozed a little heavier than him, allowing him to shift you both onto his good side. His left arm is draped over your hips, and when you reach for the remote to turn off the TV, it wraps a little closer.

"Billy?," you call softly over your shoulder. He stirs, giving a small grunt in response. Groggy but responsive, so far so good. You start to shift to get up. "I'm going to get you a blanket."

"No," he grunts into your shoulder. His arm pulls you back flush with him. You feel him wince at irritating his wound with the movement, then mumbles, "Don't need it."

Within moments his breathing becomes warm and steady on the back of your neck again, and his grip slowly softens as he slips back into sleep. You consider trying to sneak out. But honestly…this is more than you could've asked for. If anyone had told you not too long ago that you'd be cuddled by big, bad Billy Butcher, you would have told them to get their head checked. After all these chaotic, frustrating, dirty months this is the nicest thing you've experienced since joining the Boys. Then immediately after realize that this must be an even more rare moment of peace and comfort for him.

Smiling, you check to make sure the alarms are still ready on your phone, then set it aside on the coffee table. You let your eyes drift shut, determined not to take this for granted, soaking in the warmth, the silence…

^^^

Your eyes snap open, the room still dark. You sigh, waiting to hear your alarm. It doesn't sound. It's silent and you glance about, confused, why are you awake? It takes only a moment, the tingle of hairs standing on end, and you find your answer. The feeling is back. The feeling of something wrong.

You slowly raise on one arm, peering around. Only then do you notice something missing, warmth and weight. You turn your head and find Butcher sitting upright on the couch, your legs in his lap. You realize he must feel it, too. His face is turned from you, looking towards the windows.

"Billy?"

He turns his head at your whisper, his face a mix of brooding and alertness, all muddled with fatigue. The second you recognize it, the moment you realize it's the feeling of being watched again, it dissipates. His brow furrows.

"Billy, wh-?"

"Nothin'," he mumbles with a faint shake of his head. "Go back to sleep." He slides lazily back up the couch to reclaim his spot. You're on the verge of asking again but he hooks a finger under your chin. "Hey, what'd I say? I'm fine. It's nothin'."

He pulls you back in again, the solid weight of him behind you and the briefest press of lips upon the back of your neck both bring the tide of sleep over you, slowly but surely. You silence the alarm just before you close your eyes. When the next one wakes you, he's the one to shut it off.

You can't help but notice that his grip softens less in his sleep this time.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

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jaidens · 9 months

Text

He Got That Boyish Look That I Like In A Man

pairing [s] : daniel larusso x reader

warning [s] : nothing! | this really sucks 😭 I just wanted to release something cuz I've been lacking on yall

a/n [s] : requests are open! [ALSO! should I challenge things? like flufftober??]

Whenever your job offers you a raise to become an Automotive Director of Engineering for the dealership in Reseda, California you take it without warning. In an attempt to get away from slushy winters in the small state of Connecticut, you moved swiftly to a small apartment with lovely neighbors and a new life. You had been to California on some vacations with family, but living here had never crossed your mind.

You walk into your office that smells like fresh paint and cleaner, and set your books and purse down on the dark-oak table. The company had hired some individuals to work for you, which felt weird to say, as you used to be the same person. Your assistant walks in with a tap on your glass door, and she walks in. “Hey! I’m Shannon. Anything you need, I'll be across the hall. I've already started on the connections with Toyota and Nissan!”

You smile at her and shake her hand that she was holding out for you. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N L/N, but I assume you already know that!” You laugh and let go of her hand to hide any awkwardness and anxiety you had about being in such a high position.

“Okay well, I'll see you! And, someone has already set up a meeting with you!” Shannon says before walking away and shutting the door behind her.

You rub sweaty hands against your clothes and turn on your heels. The air-conditioning rumbles on and you wrap the small cardigan you had brought around you and begin staring at the paperwork that was placed in front of you. You start the work: scribbling works and many, many signatures with red pens and black pens. A knock is gentle against your door and you look up, and see Shannon and a very recognizable man standing there in a Navy suit and a smile on his face.

“This is Mr. Daniel Larusso. He owns Larusso auto parts and he said he wants to speak with you,” Shannon says, pushing her glasses up her nose and walking away.

The name sends a shiver down your spine as you hear it, and the face is suddenly very recognizable. The fateful summer vacation of 1986, fifteen-years old and young, and a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

You're sitting on the bench near the beach in a swimsuit and a big t-shirt, peeling through the boom. you had brought to your family vacation. Your family is on the beach setting up the tent and towels all across it to mark the place on the beach. The warm sun heats your skin up as you lay against the bench and continue flipping through your book that suddenly becomes boring.

A tan boy emerges from the water in orange trunks and black hair slicked back with salt water. An older and shorter man follows him up the coast and talks to him. You stare at him with your eyes following each of the tan’s movements. He notices your staring as he stares right back at you, eyes piercing into yours deliciously. His smile exposes his teeth and he knocks his head to the side and waves at you. The older man slaps the side of his head and scolds him.

You laugh at him before he tells the older man something then jogs over to you. His warm skin is a bronzy, and you swear there were twinkles of gold mixed in his skin shining against the light. “Hey, I’m Daniel. What are you reading?” The New Jersey accent rings out and you can't help but feel warmer.

“Oh some dumb romance. My name is Y/N, it's nice to meet you Daniel. Is that your Grandfather?” You cover your book up subconsciously to attempt to not get embarrassed, and point at the older man who seems weirdly angry next to the old car from the 40s.

Daniel shakes his head in response. “No, no. That’s Mr. Miyagi, he's my karate sensei. Is your book good?” He asks and you nod at his explanation, showing him you agreed.

“Yeah, my book is pretty good. You like karate? That's pretty awesome.” You tell Daniel and stare into his eyes. They're a soft, dark brown with a puppy-look inside of them. He looks your age, as he gets thrown a West Valley High soccer shirt that's bigger than him as he shrugs it on over his shoulders.

Daniel leaves with the older man after inviting you to the beach for a party held by the Football team and Cheer Team. You showed up in a baggy sweater and a pair of shorts. Daniel waved at you whenever he saw you, as he kicks around a soccer ball impressively on his two legs. You walk over to him and he laughs and kicks the ball over to you, and you catch it and throw it back to him with a shared laugh with him.

He sits down in the sand and you scoot closer to him. You're handed some hotdogs and sticks to cook over the fires made on the beach. You start one and hold a conversation about where you're from, why you were visiting, etc. The conversation was long, and filled with laughter and glances held longer than usual. Daniel handed you a drink and you declined, and he didn't drink as well.

You and Daniel just talk; it feels quite amazing. You haven't had a conversation like that in a long time, but everything falls out and you let your hand fall into his as you star-gaze further away from everyone else who was drunk and half-a drink away from throwing up on the beach. You almost find yourself staring at him more than the stars, admiring him underneath the full moon and stars. He looks beautiful both times: morning and night.

How are you supposed to leave Reseda and not think about Daniel when you leave back to Connecticut?

“I’m Y/N L/N, nice to see you again.”

#daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso #karate kid fanfiction #karate kid 1984 #young daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso fanfiction #daniel larusso imagine #karate kid daniel larusso #danny larusso #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1986 #karate kid 1989 #karate kid #daniel larusso x you #daniel larusso x y/n #daniel larusso oneshot #daniel larusso fluff #ralph macchio daniel larusso

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silentmoths · 1 year

Text

At your beck and call

Its moth, crawling out of the covid cave to drop this and then going back to bed.

wont lie this idea has been on my mind for the better part of a week, but between work and then being smashed by the ol' rona I havent had the energy, plain and simple. but I'm starting to get that back.

sorry if it seems a little rushed, brain wanted it OUT.

Butler! Zhongli x CEO (Afab) Reader.

Nsfw, does this count as office AU? i think it does?, humiliation kink if you squint?, aftercare because even when he's mean zhongli is an aftercare king.

You had never entertained the thought of hiring a live-in personal butler until one of your friends had mentioned it. She’d gone on and on about how her much time having one had saved, and how it gave her the peace of mind to relax every once in a while, a luxury you can't remember the last time you afforded as the ceo of a major company, sure you had secretaries, but they only worked within the firm, and your life?

God you needed a secretary for life.

Even then. It took you a few more months to finally cave and look into it. The agency you find has raving reviews; there’s an interview process, which takes another few weeks for you to finally sit down and do. They ask you many questions about your lifestyle, and what you need out of their service, and then it’s left in their hands.

And so, a week later, you receive a knock at your door.

Tall, sharp features, immaculately dressed.

But his eyes.

Holy shit his eyes.

Molten gold, almost shimmering in the morning light as your new butler bows to you. One gloved hand over his heart.

“Good morning Miss. My name is Zhongli.The agency has analysed your lifestyle and have thus extended your contract to me.” He explains.

Well damn, in the looks department alone you’d be leaving them a five-star review.

—

Your first proper morning with Zhongli working for you was…hectic.

Your morning alarm didn’t go off, thankfully your body-clock was pretty on point, but still, you’d slept in ten whole minutes, throwing off your schedule.

You barely even noticed that your clothes had already been laid out in the bathroom as you whirlwind through your bedroom to get ready, simply picking up the neatly folded pile as you went.

You resign yourself to a breakfast smoothie as you flurry into the kitchen, you simply didnt have any time to cook, and you’d have to clean the blender when you got home-

“Ah, good morning Miss. I trust you slept well?” Zhongli asks as he places down a plate of bacon and eggs at your usual spot in the breakfast nook. You stop, blinking at him with wide eyes.

“W-whats that?” you ask him, brain still not quite with it yet.

“Breakfast?” He counters with a tilt of his head. “Simply one of my duties.”

Right…

Right you had a secretary for your life now…

And fuck, he could cook.

You don't remember the last time you’d sat down, in your own house, eating a hot, home cooked meal for breakfast…usually it was toast, or if you didn’t have time to sit, the aforementioned smoothie that you really hated, but it was better than nothing, because when else would you have time to eat during the day?

But no, breakfast had been made for you, served with coffee and even the morning newspaper. Zhongli looks…immaculate as always, smile on his face as he cleans up and announces he will be awaiting you in the car.

That first day…no, the first week was such a learning curve… between him driving you everywhere, keeping you blessedly on time for your meetings, he also seemed to know exactly what you needed, sometimes before even you knew.

He sometimes appears with a small plate of cookies, and a mug of hot coffee, made just the way you like it, just as your mood was beginning to wane, and immediately you feel better.

As the weeks stretch on and deadlines draw closer, you find that he’s also an amazing sounding board, and your nights become a little less weary with someone else there to fill the silence, even as he silently goes about tidying your home, he’s never too far away.

—

Something around the latter half of the year just really made all your client’s extra demanding.

Your staff were overworked.

You were overworked.

You find yourself staying up later and later into the night, going over plans and documents, trying to sort all of this…this mess into something cohesive for both yourself and your poor staff.

You rub at your temples with a ragged sigh. What time was it now? You don't think you want to know…

A soft clink beside you draws your attention to a fresh cup of tea and you startle.

“Oh, Zhongli…I-I thought you’d be asleep by now..” you murmur softly, leaning back in your chair. Your butler simply smiles at you, even now at god-knows-what time passed midnight, he was still dressed in his usual work suit. “You should be too, Miss.” he tells you softly, but not condescendingly, like a worried friend.

“I cant yet.” you sigh, motioning to the armageddon of papers strewn across your desk “I need to get this sorted before the next review meeting but…augh I dunno…I just…I cant concentrate.”

“That would be because you are stressed, and tired.” Zhongli points out, chuckling softly at your side eye before he shifts, walking around your desk to come to a stop behind your chair. “Here… perhaps this will help…” he murmurs more to himself than to you, and suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, lithe, careful fingers pressing into your trapezius muscles. You grunt and wince a little, having been totally unaware of how tense your shoulders had been until now.

“Shh, just take a deep breath and relax.” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbles behind you as he slowly massages at the tension, his hands are gentle, but expert, and it takes you longer than it should to realise that he's not wearing his gloves for this. “Now…tell me what the matter is…”

With another set of eyes, and a clear explanation of what you need, by the time he’s worked all the tension from your shoulders, you’ve finally got a clear plan, and immediately set to work sorting and organising the moment his warm, surprisingly soft hands finally leave your shoulders.

Once all is said and done, you turn to your butler.

“Thank you, Zhongli…I…don't think I could have done that without you here.”

You’re met with a dashingly handsome, genuine smile, and a graceful bow of his head.

“It was my pleasure, Miss. I am here to aid your every whim.”

—

Meeting after meeting after meeting.

If you had to speak to one more person demanding things of you and your company today, you were going to scream. The sight of your black sedan, waiting dutifully for you outside the sliding glass doors at the end of the day was almost enough to make you cry as you all but collapse into the back seats with a groan.

“How were the investors today, Maam?” Zhongli asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches you in the rear-view.

“They could invest in some chill.” you mutter, taking a few moments before forcing yourself to sit up, knowing full well Zhongli wouldn’t move this car an inch until you had your seatbelt on.

“I hazard to say you could also do with, as you say, some chill.” He adds as he easily merges into the busy afternoon traffic. “You’re working yourself to the bone.”

“It’s just another month.” you sigh “investors always get antsy this time of year…”

“You said that last month too, you know.”

“Did I?” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose “Hey…when we get home…could I have another one of those massages?”

You loathe to admit how…reliant you had become on Zhongli’s ability to get the tension out of your shoulders, ever since that first night when he’d helped sort out your work with you, you’d been asking every other day or so for one, it was just so nice to relax into his care while you vented the day’s frustrations away, or soundboarded with him.

“Oh I think I can manage that.”

“Where would I be without you…?” you mumble softly as you let your eyes shut for a moment, just a moment to rest your aching eyes.

As it stands, that moment ends when Zhongli’s gentle hand on your arm rouses you. “Wh-wassgoinon?” you mumble, looking around.

“We’re home, Miss….you looked like you needed the rest so I didn’t rouse you.” Zhongli murmurs softly, reaching past you to fetch your bag.

He smells of tea, and spices…warm…comforting.

—

You groan softly as his fingers press insistently into your shoulders.

“You’re extra tense today…” Zhongli murmurs softly, leaning over to look you in the face “are you alright?”

“I-I…yeah…just…stressed I think.” you sigh, leaning your head to the side so he can get better access to your neck. You’d never admit it, but you were pretty sure at this point you were just craving his touch, you just…didn't have the time for skinship these days, how you’d managed to survive before hiring him? You had no idea.

Behind you, Zhongli hums.

“May I try…something different?” He asks quietly, rather unlike him, usually when he did something, he did it with confidence that you would be alright with it, and so far he’d never been wrong…why ask now? “I think your stress runs deeper than a simple shoulder massage can handle.” he adds when you look over your shoulder at him.

“I mean…I trust your judgement Zhongli…whatever you think I need…” you mumble.

You expect a change in his technique, maybe working a little further down your spine perhaps?.

Not to suddenly be thrown forward, chest pressed against the dark mahogany of your desk by a single,strong hand against your spine to keep you there as you gasp in shock.

“Z-Zhongli!?” you gasp, looking over your shoulder at your calm, gentle butler.

Only to find a sharp, seductive smirk plastered to his lips. His golden eyes are dark, predatory, you should be afraid.

Keyword: Should.

You watch, dumbstruck as he licks his lips, ripping your jeans straight off your legs like they were nothing, his ungloved hand grazing up the back of your thigh, and that touch alone has your eyes rolling back and a half-bitten moan falling from your lips. Gods how long had it been?

“Hmm, needy little thing, aren’t we? Thrown against your desk by your own butler and you don't even have the decency to be afraid?” Zhongli chuckles darkly as he shoves two fingers into you; the mix of pleasure and pain is enough to have your spine arching “Looks like I was right…you do need more than a little massage hm?”

“G-god…please…” you whine, the humiliation of the situation only making you hotter as he roughly thrusts his fingers, occasionally scissoring them to stretch you open, his other hand shifting from your spine to wrap around the base of your neck, holding you still as he works you open.

This new, rougher side to him…you didn’t know you wanted it...but god damn he was driving a hard bargain, plus it’s not like this wasn't something you may have thought about on a rare occasion or three… you’d just expected it to be…slower, gentler, but this? You could work with this.

“Please…? Please what?” he purrs, leaning over to nip at your ear “what do you want from me? I am at your every beck and call.” His words are low, dangerous, but genuine, and you shudder.

“You-!” you choke “please g-god, Z-Zhongli I want you to fuck me-”

One moment there’s fingers, the next moment nothing, and you want to cry, the petulant whine only being held back by the sound of a belt buckle.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m at your service.”

And then he roughly bucks his hips and good gods.

Considering he wore such fitted trousers, where the hell had he been keeping that??

That mix of pleasure-pain is back, but more intense this time; you definitely had not been wet enough, and yet? You wouldn't have wanted it any other way, the pain added it’s own flavour to your desire as Zhongli pins you against your desk, breathing ragged into your ear as he wastes no time, setting a brutal pace from the start that has papers and stationary clattering off your desk.

“So tight” he hisses “how long has it been since you’ve had a good fucking?”

Something about Zhongli swearing like that feels so wrong, but oh, so right in the moment.

For a moment, paperwork and meetings are the furthest thing from your mind as Zhongli shoves you even further onto your desk, free hand hiking your hips up so he can slam into you all the harder, the only sounds emanating within your study are the wet slapping of skin, and your cries of ecstasy.

He’s not gentle, and deep, deep down, you’re glad for it.

You needed this, spending every damn day for the last five years telling everyone else what to do? You needed this…loss of control.

Much like everything else in the last six months, Zhongli knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and before you even realised you needed it.

“Whats the matter? Nothing to say?” He grunts into your ear as he grinds himself so deep into you, you’re seeing stars. “You’re always so talkative…”

You can only moan pathetically in response, eyelids fluttering as he fucks you down into the table, his words are harsh, and humiliating, but all they do is draw your orgasm closer, barely even registering what he’s saying.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, one moment you’re seeing stars as your butler bullies his massive cock into you, the next minute your world turns white.

—

“Shh, try not to move…I wasn’t gentle with you.” Zhongli’s tone is back to being kind and gentle after…how many orgasms did he just force you through? You’d lost count…all you know was that it had still been light out when he’d first shoved you down…now as he passes by a window with you cradled gently in his arms, it was pitch black outside.

Gentle lips press to your temple as he perches on the edge of the bathtub, holding you on his lap with one arm while he reaches over to get the water started. Wetting a washcloth to clean away a good portion of the mess beforehand.

Your body aches, but in the best possible way. You feel…breathless and comfortable, fuzzy.

You wince as he lowers you into the hot water, your muscles tensing at the sudden heat before relaxing again. Zhongli watches you with a soft look. Even coming off the back end of some amazing sex, he still somehow managed to look stupidly put together, if not even more alluring with his lack of suit jacket; it had been abandoned sometime during round… three you think? One moment it was on, the next moment, you’re being pressed onto your back, the jacket is gone, and he’s rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and you’re at his mercy.

The lip of a water bottle presses to your lips, his other hand gently supporting the back of your head as you drink.

“How do you feel?” he asks once you’ve drunk your fill for now, like that switch that had turned him from the kind and courteous butler you had known to….whatever that zhongli was, had never flipped at all.

Despite this, you smile at him.

“I feel like…I need to ask you to do that again more often, Zhongli.”

To his credit, your ever-so-handsome butler laughs. It’s a warm, hearty sound, one that fills you with no small amount of joy.

“I am here to serve your every beck and call, I’m sure I can work this into the schedule.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmothwrites #Zhongli x reader #Zhongli x reader smut #Zhongli genshin

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trulybetty · 7 months

Text

oct' 03 x full of colours

Prompt: full of colours Pairing: tim rockford x f!reader Word Count: 1,530 Warnings: 18+ we've got our first mention of smut for the month, un-beta'd is the name of the game, true crime + murder mentions (no graphic detail), mentions of food, P in V, no contraceptives but this is an established relationship, wrap it up, mentions of consuming alcohol. Summary: tim, hitting a roadblock in his case comes home after work has kept the two of you away from one another too long. both of you could do with unwinding from your current work loads, good thing for walk in showers

x. masterlist

A/N: day three and no Marcus Pike... should I be worried? Or is he ready and waiting in the wings?

The drive home was uneventful, his restored 1968 Mustang GT Fastback was smooth, its recently tuned engine purring as if content. Tim's focus was split between the road and the true crime podcast playing through the car's upgraded speakers, a modern touch in a classic ride. While he generally steered clear of the trendy world of true crime podcasts, this particular episode offered some eerily accurate insights into the cold case he was diligently piecing together.

Pulling into the driveway he was happy to finally be home for once this week at not only a decent hour, but before the sky turned dark. The fall weather had swept in, summer disappearing before he had even had a chance to acknowledge it. Work had brought him another case that had him burning the candle at both ends. Some nights never making it home and catching sleep between leads on the beaten couch in his office.

There was a crunch of fall leaves under his foot as he climbed out of the car. Full of colours, a multitude of fall shades at his feet and over the modest front yard. A blanket of orange and browns between shades of green of the neighbouring lawns.

It served as a further reminder that he hadn’t been around enough to even get a start on prepping the yard for the fall months and he’d put off your insistence at hiring a landscaping company despite a local one coming highly recommended. Your work deadlines had picked up too meaning his slack you usually picked up around the house was going further neglected.

Closing the front door behind him, he spied the dining room table littered with paperwork. Telling him all he needed to know about your deadlines. If you had moved your work from the modest office you kept in the spare room upstairs, one that looked out to the backyard and the lakes beyond, to the wider formal table meant things were just as pressing for you.

Tugging his tie loose and pulling it off in one smooth movement he called out your name, but got no response. Before any concern could be had he heard the shower turn on upstairs. Slipping out of his suit jacket and hanging it at the end of the stairs he made short work of heading up the stairs to your shared bathroom. A smile graced his lips when he saw the ensuite door left ajar.

Tess, his long-suffering secretary, had left him a voicemail earlier, reminding him about the outstanding expenses report that was due this week. He planned to knock that out tomorrow, but for now, he relished the notion of a quiet evening. Something that had become a rare luxury for him these days.

Tim stood at the threshold of the bathroom door, steam billowing softly through the gap. He couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had spent any time together where there wasn’t one of you with an eye on the clock.

Without any hesitation he quickly stripped, leaving his clothes at the doorway, slipping into the sleek tiled room he could make out your silhouette through the fogged glass doors.

He stepped into the shower, a warm embrace of steam and cascading water. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you against his body, his cock already stirring at the missed skin on skin contact. You gasped at the sudden presence but the familiar feel of his lips at your neck, his ever present patchy beard, told you enough to know it was Tim.

The two of you stood there for minutes just enjoying the moment, both understanding how rare these moments were becoming and very thankful for the walk-in shower that could comfortably fit three more people, and the two of you would still have space.

Tim softly kissed behind your ear, feeling your body relax as he continued to run his hands across your back. His fingertips tracing circles at your hips before running up to massage your shoulders. He could feel your soft exhales against his chest as he moved lower down your back letting out a content sigh himself when he felt you reach down and ghost your fingers over his stiffening member.

Turning you to face him he kissed you with hunger for you on his mind, while his hands found their way to your hips as he manoeuvred you back against the shower wall. Despite the heat of the water the tile felt cold at your back and you hissed. But it was quickly forgotten when his body pressed into yours as he deepened his kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his. His hands roamed your sides before moving upwards to cup your breasts.

You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands trailed lower, skimming over your stomach before dipping between your legs. Your body quivered as his fingers found their way inside of you, stroking softly with increasing pressure.

He kept stroking until he felt the tension leave your body before turning you around so that you were facing away from him, your arms braced against the shower wall. You could feel the heat you'd left behind against your palms. Bending you over slightly, so that he could have better access to you. He ran fingers lightly up and then back down your spine while placing soft kisses at the nape of neck and shoulders before finally pushing himself inside of you from behind.

You gasped at the sensation but had no time to dwell on it as Tim started to move slowly at first at a tantalizing slow and tender pace as your body adjusted to him. The shower soon filled with gratuitous moans from you both as the pace increased, highlighted by a call on his name when he let his one hand drift from your hip to find home between your legs, teasing you with his fingers.

He could feel his own body tensing as you arched your back pushing back against him. He was close, his breathing growing heavier as he fought to concentrate on giving you what you wanted. But he didn't need to focus for long as he felt your body tensing around him. You came with a low moan and soft cries of his name, your body trembling as you rode out the wave.

He followed soon after, his loud groan mingling with the water as he emptied himself inside of you. He pulled out, the sound of the shower water quickly drowning out any other noise that he made as he ran his hands up and down your back as he tried to catch his breath.

You turned around, your arms finding their way around his neck, “Hi,” you said gently, your smile signifying your happiness of having him home.

“Hi,” responded just as quietly, his dark brown eyes taking you in before his lips found yours again, soft and lingering.

“I missed you,” you said up against his lips.

“I missed you too.”

Tim headed downstairs to the kitchen. He settled on something simple—grilled cheese and a salad. Comfort food. As he laid out the ingredients on the counter, he pondered over the case that had consumed him for the past weeks. It was a twenty-year-old murder case, cold as they come, but he had found something everyone else had missed—a faint pattern that suggested a serial killer at work. The only trouble was the red tape he was facing, halting any further progress that was so desperately within his reach.

Your footsteps announced your arrival into the kitchen. “Something smells good,” you said, eyeing the skillet on the stove.

“Almost ready,” he replied, flipping a sandwich with expertise.

The table laid, dinner served, you jumped up from your seat, “Before I forget!” you said as the sound of the scrape of your chair against the floor filled the room.

You returned moments later with a manila folder and slid it across the table as Tim took a sip from his wine glass, his eyes on you, “I thought we said no work at the dinner table?”

You gave him an apologetic smile, it was after all your rule, “I know, but you’re going to want to see this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity peaked. He placed down his glass and opened the folder.

A moment or two passed and you waited with baited breath for his response.

“This legit?” he asked looking up from the papers, “you’ve crossed referenced this?”

You nodded eagerly, “Everything is cross referenced and triple checked.”

He took one more look at you before he bowed his head and returned to reading, his furrowed brow and grunts of approval told you that your hard work met his meticulous standards. There was a reason cold cases made their way to him when no one else could follow the cold trails.

Finally he closed the folder, “When is this getting released?”

You grinned as you took a satisfying bite of your grilled cheese, “The episode goes live tonight at midnight, meaning everyone is going to know and they’ll have no choice but to lift that red tape that’s holding you back.”

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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marvelwhore2023 · 9 months

Text

BLACK WIDOW SERIES

Natasha Romanoff x GN Reader

- enemies to lovers

- angst

- trigger warning panic attacks , anxiety

Part 1 / Part 2 - 👇

It was six in the morning, and you were catching the subway into the city to your job at Black Widow, an up and coming designer brand .

You sipped your coffee and prayed today went smoothly . There was a team meeting which you knew was just going to be your boss , Natasha Romanoff, demanding everyone , mostly you, to do better.

She had it out for you and you were certain of it , anything she had a problem with.. it was now your problem . You swear you'd be an alcoholic from stress if you had the free time to drink but most nights you stay until early morning working on anything she needed ..you ran around like a puppy on a leash for her and you weren't even her damn assistant

You were Creative Director , so seasonal themes , staff hire and apparently natashas personal punching bag were all your responsibility at this company .

As you pushed through the heavy glass doors to the building , Wanda at the front desk gave you a sympathetic smile

"she asked for me didn't she" you sighed , already feeling that bit anxiety in the pit of your stomach start to rise

"She did ...she told me to tell you to go to her office as soon as you arrived" Wanda replied sheepishly "it's okay Wanda thank you"

You didn't bother stopping off at your office on the way to leave your bag and coat because anymore time added on to however long Natasha was already waiting for you would just be a pain in the ass for you .

*knock knock*

"Come in" Natashas voice rang through her office . You opened the door and walked through , closing it gently behind you . You told yourself you would stand tall and refuse to let her bully you but as soon as you seen her stern stare you broke .

"your late" she spat

you quickly checked the clock on her wall to be certain which you were that you were actually early ..

"Im actually early , I don't start till seven fifteen" you replied confused , looking back to the redhead who raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down in distain "your aware you work with a designer brand right ? yet you come to work everyday looking like a washed up hobo"

You usually took pride in the way you looked and your style , sure it wasn't everyone's cup of tea but you enjoyed expressing yourself through clothes , that's why you got a job in fashion but it was making out to be far harder to deal with than you thought

"fix it" Natasha added , crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair "was there something you needed me for" you asked , choosing to ignore her jab at your style and to redirect it to the reason she called for you

"yes , these spreadsheets are disastrous.. we are not doing a fashion show in Milan in the middle of winter" you furrowed your eyebrows together not exactly understanding what she was rejecting "but the faux coat line will be on the runway , it goes with the theme I mean you hardly want to buy a faux winter coat in hot weather-" your ramble was cut short by her slamming the folder down onto the table

"I said change it" she demanded sternly

"with all due respect natasha I can't just change-" her second time to interrupt you

"I didn't ask Y/N ! now are you going to do it or do i need to find someone who is better equipped for the job!" she scolded .

"no , I'll do it" you caved , agreeing to change the whole venue to a whole other country for a show that's in less than a month "good , now get out of my face" Natasha shooed you out of her office with her hand and you felt utterly embaressed like a child after being scolded by a teacher in school ..her assistant Maria heard every word and gave you a small smile of support as you walked passed .

You fell into your office chair , you could already feel the tears rising but you refused to let them fall , you were sick of the way she treated you and its only gotten worse over the last few weeks , when she first started she barely even looked your way and now she was at your heels every second of every day , even when you were home she was sending you emails about work things .

Your deep breathes were interrupted by one of the designers , Tony.

"Sorry, Y/N , we finished the next piece if you would like to take a look at it ?" He offered , peeping his head around your door "yeah , yeah sure I'll be there in a second" he nodded and left you , giving you a couple seconds to write down today's agenda on a sticky note and slap it on your laptop

'change everything'

Multitasking was something you grew good at , while helping Tony decide on finishing touches you were ringing venue's to see where was available on such short notice for such a big event "what if we do linen lining so even in autumn it can be worn?" Tony suggested "that's a great idea , everyone hates having to buy different coats so if we make it suitable for mild to cold weather , not too warm for cooler months and not too thick for colder months , perfect get on that we will discuss it more in todays meeting" you agreed and left to continue calling venues

Sitting down to your desk you could see an email from Natasha and it was all the countries and venues she did not want which was nearly 90% of the ones you had available

"oh my god" you sobbed , letting the frustration get the better of you . You ran your hands over your face and held back the urge to scream .

Three hours .

That's how long it took to find the perfect venue and organise eveything so it was to Natashas standards which were out of this world high .

Meeting time approached and you hadn't even had lunch yet , luckily it was just the team involved with the show wrapping up all the technicalities and finalising the important stuff , knowing you had your end sorted didn't help ease the anxiety in your stomach because Natasha could easily refuse this venue too .

You swallowed down the bile that rose to your throat and took your seat at the big table in the conference room , people filtered in , taking their seats and engaging in small talk . You sat at the end of the table which faced Natashas at the front of the room .

When she entered the table went quiet "afternoon everyone , let's make this quick I have else where to be"

Of course she does , you thought to yourself as you opened your folder "Tony had completed forty seven out of the fifty two pieces , we decided going with a linen lining for the last five to accommodate the warmer months , James has the guest list sent out to all the major news outlets and invites have been received by everyone's management , your pilot is prepared for any weather changes or layovers and has the greenlight from the airports to enter-" you were just about finished when she interrupted you . You took a breathe for the first time since you started talking , slightly shaking at the thought of what she was about to say

"sounds good but uh let's scrap the linen lining , it's a winter line they want the coats to be warm ..that's the point is it not" Natasha teased and if she was nice you would consider it playful but it was just downright rude , a couple of people at the table chuckled politely at her obvious attempt at being funny but it didn't suit her and their laugher made you see red , the audacity was just unbelieve and you snapped

"nothing is ever good enough for you" You spat under your breathe ,rolling your eyes but Natasha along with a handful of people caught it , Natashas eyes widened slightly but she controlled herself until the end of the meeting

"That all sounds good , everyone dismissed , Y/N ..my office now'" she snapped

Oh god

You followed Natasha to her office , she held the door opened for you , letting you walk in first before she closed the door behind her and unleashed the beast on you

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME INFRONT OF EVEEYONE LIKE THAT"

"how dare i" you scoffed , rolling your eyes again

"STOP DOING THAT , DO YOU HAVE ANY RESPECT I MEAN COME ON Y/N YOU CANT EVEN DO YOUR JOB RIGHT AND NOW YOUR TRYING TO CHANGE THE LINE ? WHAT KIND OF IDIOT ARE YOU!"

You partially zoned out on Natasha screaming at you, the anxiety and anger fighting each other to see which bubbled to the surface first and it must've been your unlucky day because it was the anger

"ALRIGHT !" you screamed back , Natasha was so taken aback she shut up

"I am sick and tired of how you bully me ! eveything I do for this company , every fucking hour I spend in this office losing sleep and not eating so YOUR designs are up to your standard and YOU CANT EVEN TREAT ME WITH HUMAN FUCKING DECENCY" your rant had slowly turned into sobs , your voice broke several times while shouting at Natasha and although your pretty sure snot was rolling down your lips you continued to shout , your voice becoming raspier with every sentence

"you..you belittle in infront of everyone daily and everyone is so scared of you so they never say anything but you are a horrible boss , you are cold and stern and you care for nobody but yourself" you continued .

Natasha stood , frozen almost watching you completely lose it infront of her and she was the one who drove you to it .

"Y/N.." she whispered but you ignored her attempt to interrupt you , if you didn't get it out now you never would , you wiped the snot and tears from your face and continued "I don't know why you even keep me here if I'm so terrible at my job , I mean if I can't do anything right just hire someone else ! because I am sick and tired of how you make me feel and i-"

Natasha was becoming impatient being unable to get a word in edgeways with you so she shouted at you "BECAUSE I CANT!" you stopped once you seen how Natashas demeanour changed , she seemed frazzled and upset

"I can't fire you because I can't stand not seeing you everyday" she started " and I can't stand being around you because everyday you come in and your chatty and polite to everyone and you have this stupid gorgeous smile on your face and all I want to do is be in your precence but I can't because I'm supposed to be the boss and I have to be stern and in charge and I'm jealous okay ! I'm jealous you can dress how you want and do what you want and be free from this job once you go home"

Natasha was now standing infront of you , her own eyes glassy "but those are just bigger excuses for the real reason why I'm so terrible to you , I'm falling for you and I tried not to , to stop it or to even be as mean as I could to push you away but even then I can't shake these feelings and it frustrates the life out of me , i feel like a love sick teenager and i hate it "

You stared blankly at the red head "so you've been terrorising me for the last month over a stupid crush" you repeated making sure you had this right "yes ..and y/n I am sorry"

You laughed , you actually laughed out loud uncontrollably for a few seconds until you caught your breathe , Natasha looked at you slightly confused until you stopped and spoke

"I would never like someone as horrible as you" You spat angrily "you have caused me absolute misery the past four weeks and if you want to fire me because your embaressed one of your staff finally talked back to you then by all means do it , I'm sure I could find somewhere far nicer to work"

Natasha shook her head and stepped backwards out of your space "no your not fired ..your free to go" you didn't even bother with her anymore and left , letting her office door slam on your way out.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #marvelau #marvel fic #ceo natasha #buisnesswomannatasha

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alotofpockets · 1 year

Text

You're safe with me | Kate Bishop

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Prompt: “They will have to go through me before they get to you.”

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1035

Your girlfriend had always looked up to the Avengers. She had told you about the day she saw Hawkeye fight in the Battle of New York, the tragic event which led to the death of her father. Over time she had shared this story with you, letting you in on why archery became so important to her. So, when the opportunity arose for her to work with Clint Barton himself and eventually join the Avengers, her decision was quickly made. You had and always will support her in all her decisions, and you were very proud of the hero she was becoming.

The upside of Kate becoming an Avenger was that you always had someone to protect you. The downside, however, was that it also tended to be the reason why you needed protection in the first place. It seemed like there was always someone set on hurting the Avengers, their loved ones included.

You had gotten close to Laura, Clint’s wife, when Kate first joined the Avengers. She knew what you were going through from personal experience and was a great person for advice as well as company. It comforted you to know their relationship could withstand the evil that was out in the world, it always gave you a certain sense of security.

After the first time people tried to go after you, Kate made you a promise. She had promised you that she would never leave you alone at night. That meant she was there or when she wasn’t able to, you had a place to stay at the Avengers Compound or the Barton residence.

Tonight, you both slept in your shared apartment. You had loved this place from the beginning, there was so much space, and you were fully able to decorate the home to both of your liking. It was the first home after living with parents for the both of you.

A strange noise coming from downstairs woke you up, you nudged Kate until she woke up as well. “I think someone is downstairs.” You whisper. After hearing that Kate is wide awake and already at the bedroom door listening for movement downstairs. The second she hears a noise too, she walks to the closet and grabs her bow and arrow. With your eyes widen “What are you going to do?”. Kate looks back at you, “They will have to go through me before they get to you.”

You knew that meant that she wanted you to stay and let her handle the situation. Kate was going to protect you at all costs, she had made that clear when she had shared wanting to join the Avengers when she got the opportunity to. So, you did, you stayed in the room. You heard her raise her voice and the sound of shattering glass filled the apartment. You hated the waiting around and not knowing if Kate was okay, but you knew to trust her with stuff like this.

About fifteen minutes later she came back up unharmed. “They’re gone. I think it was those guys that were following you last week, Trust a Bro was the name on the van right?” You only nod your head in response. “Okay, in that case this wasn’t a random break in.” She walks back to the closet and grabs two duffel bags. “Pack some clothes, we’re going to the Barton’s for a while until we figure something out, okay?” You take the back from her with shaky hands. Kate notices and realizes you’re still scared. “You’re safe with me, baby. I’ll be by your side the whole time.” She gives you a hug before you both pack your clothes.

Before closing the door, you look back inside the apartment, “What about the rest of our stuff?” Kate grabs your hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call Stark in the morning and ask him to hire some movers in the morning. I know how important the home we build together is, I’ll ask if we can store it at the Compound for a bit.” That reassures you enough to close the door behind you.

When you arrive at the Barton’s it’s already morning, you knock on the door and Clint answers. “Kate, y/n, we weren’t expecting you, were we?” He says worriedly, thinking he might have forgotten something. “No, I’m sorry to just drop by. Something happened tonight and I didn’t want to call you at that time of the night.” Clint ushers you in. “Don’t be silly, you’re always welcome here. What happened?”. You explain the situation and Clint tells you that the two of you are more than welcome to stay with him for however long you need. “Come on in, Laura was just making some breakfast.”.

You turn the corner into the kitchen and are met with three excited kids running your way. They each hug both you and Kate like they haven’t seen you in years, while it has maybe been three weeks. You gladly hugged them back though, you loved these kids like they were your family. Laura also hugs the both of you hello, “Have you had anything to eat yet?” When you both say no she offers to make some extra food.

After breakfast the kids go outside to play. Clint asks both of you to stay for a moment. “Laura and I have been talking about this for a while, so I don’t want you to think this is a rushed decision. I just think that with what’s been going on, that now is a good time to offer. As you know we’ve been remodeling the barn into a guest house. We would like you to live there if you would want that of course. It’s up to you, but we would really like it. Having more people around and of course a safe environment.” You and Kate exchange a look, she sees the instant comfort in your eyes and responds with, “We would love that. Thank you so much!”

The following weeks you’re helping Clint get the house ready. Tony agreed to get some movers to transport your belongings to the new house and soon you had a new place to make your home.

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #hawkeye #clint and laura #clint barton #laura barton #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #mcu x reader #kate hawkeye

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 5 months

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Warning: This chapter includes detailed smut right at the start.

Morpheus would go to great lengths for you, even crafting terrifying nightmares to fuel your enemy's fears. And sometimes, as you had come to learn, the ultimate outcome truly justifies the methods employed along the way.

The moment you excused yourself with Ella and Oliver, finally able to go home after a thorough interrogation from the local authorities, a whirlwind of thoughts flooded your mind. Maya's presence at the crime scene, the perplexing dilemma of providing a plausible explanation for the pendant emitting light, and the astounding fact that the fire had left you unharmed due to its influence.

Ella's doubts were evident in the unspoken questions reflected in her eyes. She allowed you to leave, refraining from asking in front of her husband, and all you could do was silently depart, by Morpheus' side, as the two of you made your way back to your place.

Although the King of Dreams could have effortlessly transported you directly to your apartment, the fresh air served as a necessary means to clear your head. He walked alongside you, finding solace in the shared silence, allowing you to tightly grip his arm for support. In his company, you chose to forgo the subway and opting instead for a longer walk, but the extended journey didn't bother you in the least. The mere presence of him next to you, without any complaints or need to hurry away, transformed that moment into something enjoyable, despite the prevailing circumstances.

The truth was, you didn't know how to feel. The incident at work had left you with an odd sense of confusion, incapable of distinguishing between shock and relief. Morpheus didn't press the matter, and for the time being, you had no inclination to talk about it. Still, the gears in your brain had already been set in motion, and you couldn't help but dwell on the possibility of Maya intentionally targeting you in the worst of ways.

Accusing her without any concrete evidence would have been a significant leap in the dark, but there were too many inexplicable factors that simply didn't add up. Was her aversion towards you so powerful that she didn't even consider the consequences of destroying her workplace, obliterating everything you had created for the company?

In order to avoid a headache, you made the decision to cast the matter aside, at least temporarily.

As you arrived at your building, you asked Morpheus to stay a little longer, and you were pleasantly surprised when he agreed with a simple yet resolute nod. Although he had been there twice before, the fact you were inviting him inside as a regular guest made him feel particularly hesitant. He focused his attention on your decorative pieces, observing everything as if it were his first visit. At times, he was simply too adorable for you to contain your infatuation.

Since you had already prepared a quick dinner at the office before the fire broke out, all you could offer Morpheus was a drink and a snack, which he politely refused, as he always did.

With your clothes and hair permeated with the strong scent of burnt plastic, you had no alternative but to hastily take a shower to eliminate the odor. Despite your reluctance to leave him alone again after making him wait while you dealt with the police, you refused to be with him in that state.

You rushed through it, washing yourself at lightning speed and barely drying your hair. When you emerged from the bathroom, feeling refreshed and clad in a soft robe, you discovered Morpheus meticulously examining the sketchbook left open on your desk. You observed him with a gentle smile forming on your lips, appreciating his beauty illuminated by the soft orange glow in your room. His long fingers delicately traced over the scattered drawings on the table, and although a part of you felt self-conscious about having your entire work on display, the sense of intimacy you felt warmed your heart.

You embraced him from behind, wrapping your arms around his form and resting your cheek against the back of his shoulder. Instead of immediately turning around, he chose to unwind under your touch, gently stroking your wrists with his thumbs. After a few moments, he rotated slowly and glanced down at you, running his fingers through your partially damp hair. The contrast between his cold hands and warm body always enticed you.

"Forgive me, I forgot to ask," you said, your hands grasping the sides of his coat. "How is Calliope? Did everything go well?”

Even though you had truly forgotten about it after the events of that night, you were starting to feel a bit restless to find out.

"It is done,” he replied calmly.

“Is she free?”

“Yes.”

"I'm glad to hear that," you responded sincerely. "I can't bear to see what my people are doing to all of you.”

"It is not your burden."

"Maybe. But it feels deeply personal to me.”

There was something else that you wanted to ask him, but you were uncertain, wondering if it would be wise to do so. As he glanced at you with patience, waiting, you could tell that he was expecting your question.

And so, it naturally came out of your lips. "Is everything okay between the two of you?”

He averted his eyes, taking a moment to process everything in his mind. "The distance between us cannot be bridged," he began. "But… we have dicussed it."

You nodded, acknowledging his response and accepting it. After all, how could it ever be easy to confront an ex-lover after such a significant amount of time, especially with a history of tragedy that had driven them apart? Even for someone like you, who had relatively straightforward and ordinary experiences, it would still be immensely difficult to encounter any of your former partners.

You let out a sigh, taking a small step back. "Thank you for accompanying me home. I kept you waiting for quite some time tonight, I’m sorry. If you need to leave, I won't hold you here.”

Once again, his lips parted but abruptly stopped, leaving his words unspoken. He expressed his inner conflict through a pout and a frown, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts and emotions.

“Do you wish for me to leave?”

Your heart sank upon hearing his vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Absolutely not," you reassured him. "To be frank, I would love nothing more than to keep you here all night. But, I understand that you have important responsibilities to attend to.”

His eyes glistened, and for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the first night you spent together. The gentle radiance of the bedside table lamp traced the lines of his face, imprinting that memory upon you.

"I cannot stay all night, but for now, you shall have me.”

He leaned in, closing the distance between you, and tenderly brushed his forehead against yours in a familiar gesture of affection.

You shivered at the contact and asked, "Is there something on your mind?”

Your eyes met, and his desires were unmistakable. You could feel the intensity coursing through your spine like an electric current, causing every fiber of your being to quiver against him.

"Let me be with you," he pleaded, his voice low and filled with longing.

“Morpheus-”

"Please.”

You could feel his desperation and heartbreak as he had to confront his past once again. It was intertwined with your own need to be embraced in his arms, seeking solace and comfort. How could you even consider saying no, when all you wanted was to be loved by this extraordinary and awe-inspiring being who you had the honor of calling your boyfriend?

You pressed your lips against his, relishing the taste and savoring the softness of his mouth. He reciprocated immediately, his hands eagerly pulling at the sides of your bathrobe. The sleeves slipped off your shoulders, revealing a generous expanse of your skin. His lips trailed down to your neck, leaving wet kisses with each gentle peck, while his tongue sensually traced circles on your shoulder, igniting a tantalizing blend of pleasure and relaxation.

Slowly, your breasts were exposed, your nipples becoming taut with anticipation. His lips ventured downward, lavishing attention on the sensitive flesh, leaving moist circles in his wake. As you arched your back, your fingers tightened their grip on his shoulders. He sensually licked and caressed you, handling your breasts with the utmost care and tenderness. It was as if he was afraid of causing you any discomfort, his touch filled with sweetness and devotion.

He switched to the unattended side, prompting a moan of ecstasy from you. The pleasure intensified as he skillfully stimulated your nipples with his fondling, sending waves of delightful sensations straight to your core.

"May I?" he asked, his fingers securing themselves over the knot of your belt, keeping the robe together. He sought permission, waiting for your consent before proceeding.

"Yes," you granted. “I’m yours.”

The depth of your words seemed to darken his gaze, adding yet another layer of intensity to it. You couldn't help but feel a sense of quiet satisfaction as you noticed the contentment that adorned his face.

In a moment, the knot was undone, and the bathrobe opened fully, revealing your entire naked form to him. As he hungrily took in the sight of your full breasts, your stomach, the rosy flush of your clit, and the curves of your upper legs, you let the bathrobe slip from your arms, allowing it to fall gracefully onto the floor. Taking his hands in yours, you shared another sweet kiss before turning on your feet to lead him towards the edge of the bed.

"Could you undress for me?" you asked, your voice laced with a mix of arousal and shyness.

Closing your eyes, a heated blush spread across your cheeks. You heard a delicate "swoosh" sound in the air, and when you reopened them, you found him standing before you, completely bare, his pale figure unveiled in all its splendor.

Just like your first night together, his clothes had seemingly vanished in a cloud of sand, leaving no trace behind. You released a light chuckle, feeling a spark of warmth as you pressed yourself against him again. Your hands traced along his upper arms, exploring him with gentle caresses. Morpheus barely reacted, but a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting the amusement and complicity between you.

In spite of his prideful nature, he willingly obeyed, allowing you to guide him to the mattress as you gently pushed him down onto it. You followed suit, positioning your legs on either side of his body, sitting on his lap without fully settling down.

You put your hands around the back of his neck, using it as leverage, while he kissed your collarbones and the top of your mounds. He firmly grasped your waist, holding you in place and adjusting his own posture. You could feel the undeniable hardness pressing against your inner thigh, creating a wonderful friction that intensified the passion in him. Your breath grew hot and heavy, the pulsing and clenching of your walls indicating that you were almost ready for more.

But before succumbing to the temptation, you placed a gentle and delicate kiss on his right eyebrow, bestowing a feather-like touch upon his skin. Moving lower, you brought your lips to his eyelid and the corner of his eye, lingering on his cheekbone before repeating the same pattern on the other side. Morpheus relaxed beneath you, his own breathing slowing down and becoming steady. As he savored every moment, his hands glided up and down your hips, contributing to the sensuous exchange with equal amounts of care.

As you returned to his mouth, you properly settled onto his lap, feeling his erection pressing against your bottom, bending and pulsating. You began to move in a grinding motion, back and forth, generating a spectacular friction between your sensitive nerves and his growing arousal. You were taken by waves of bliss that shook you from head to toe, intensifying as his index and middle fingers met the hood of your clitoris. He had a perfect understanding of how to please you, delivering a massage that catered to your precise preferences. It was difficult for you to restrain the impending release, as it always took him so very little to unravel you.

You let him continue for a moment longer, moaning and trembling atop him. You sneaked your hand downward to grasp his hardness in return, encasing the tip between your fingers and gently stroking it up and down with a flicking motion. He let out a contented hum for the pleasurable attention you were giving him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you brought his erection to your entrance, allowing it to partially slip inside. Morpheus unleashed a low growl, a sound that signaled his surrender as all resistance faded away. And then, he lifted himself up, effortlessly sliding himself fully inside of you.

It felt absolutely heavenly. Words couldn’t adequately express the spiritual connection you experienced, transcending the physical realm as you merged together into one. You lifted yourself up, moving slowly, only to descend again. You repeated this motion once, twice, and then even more, establishing a satisfying and sensual rhythm.

For a few minutes, his hands aided you, following your movements and meeting your pelvis halfway. Nevertheless, as soon as you quickened your pace and exerted more pressure with your thighs, he asserted his dominance by abruptly ceasing your actions and pulling away from you.

He gestured for you to recline on the mattress, where you sank into the comforting softness of the pillows. With your legs spread apart, he situated himself between them and planted kisses on your stomach, slowly descending lower and lower with the most sensual look in his eyes, ablaze with desire for you. Finally, his mouth planted a sweet peck on your pubic bone, teasingly gliding around your clit without making direct contact.

"Morpheus, what are you-"

Your heart raced in your chest as his lips closed around your pleasure center, sending a new rush of exhilarating shockwaves radiating through your body. He was relentless, his tongue licking and suckling on your clit as if savoring the most delectable feast. Despite your warnings and the gentle tug on his hair, he showed no signs of interrupting what he was doing. The unfinished business from earlier had left you on the brink of release, but he was determined to prolong his ministrations, ensuring that you received exactly what you craved.

Everything he did to you was impeccable, and your body trembled in response to his loving efforts. He enveloped your clit with his mouth, occasionally withdrawing only to have it immediately covered by his tongue once more. Again and again, with increasing speed, straight to the point of no return.

Your orgasm erupted like a fierce volcano, causing your body to convulse and tremble uncontrollably. Instinctively, you entwined your legs around his head as the final surge of euphoria subsided. You gasped heavily, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Morpheus's tongue remained firmly pressed against your clit, continuously bestowing pleasure after pleasure until the very end. Only when he was certain that you had reached the peak of ecstasy did he retreat from your core.

He climbed up, kissing on your chin, your lips, and finally your forehead.

"You're terrible," you said playfully, letting out a giggle as you embraced him and repositioned your legs around his waist.

“I am not quite finished with you, my dear,” he replied, equally amused.

Noticing his hardened member pressing against you with even greater force than before, a smile of satisfaction formed on your face. "Clearly."

Morpheus smiled slightly, his hand gliding along your side, while the other delicately encircled his arousal. The view was highly provocative and erotic, immediately awakening your senses. "Turn around for me," he murmured.

Thrilled by his request, you maneuvered and repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your stomach on the silky sheets. Taking care not to put his full weight on your back, the Endless cautiously guided the tip forward, meeting your entrance again. Feeling his hesitation, you aided by spreading your legs wider, raising your hips to create the perfect angle.

The fact that he, with his power and presence, still displayed uncertainty out of concern for your well-being was undeniably endearing. While he may struggle most of the time with controlling his negative emotions, when it came to loving you, his level of consideration surpassed the boundaries of your worlds and extended beyond the universe itself.

As he penetrated you, the immediate contact with your most sensitive spot had you on the verge of mewling, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. Morpheus established a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you with an escalating tempo. His grunts were barely audible, but their vibrations resonated in your ear, causing your heart to flutter with excitement. It didn't take much for you to feel another orgasm building inside.

His fingers intertwined with yours from behind, enveloping you in the most exquisite embrace. You kissed his knuckles, the sounds of sex filling the air, further encouraging him as you whined in response.

"So good," you whispered. "Please, don't stop.”

"I have no intention of denying you this," he said hoarsely. "You are exceptional, thoroughly prepared for me.” With a particularly forceful and powerful thrust, he made you jolt slightly upwards. "And you are mine."

His possessive declaration was the ultimate catalyst you required, and a second orgasm erupted within you, causing your clit to quiver and throb against the mattress. The wave of bliss cascaded down to your legs and rippled up your torso, your nipples reacting as if he were physically touching them.

It felt magical, powerful, and utterly intense. It was a level of intimacy that you had never encountered with anyone prior to him, and somehow, it felt so right, effortless and instinctive that you failed to perceive any of it as indecent. Just like any other private moment you spent with him.

If anything, your confidence continued to expand.

Turning your head to meet his gaze, you panted in exhaustion and moved closer to capture his lips, which he eagerly accepted to offer. He continued to thrust frantically into you, nearing his own climax, as you engaged in a passionate exchange of open-mouthed kisses, tongues entwined in a neverending tangle of love.

"Give it to me, please," you murmured. "Let it go.”

And that's exactly what he did, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hips jerked forcefully, accompanied by the most alluring grunt that had ever resonated in your ears. His untamed hair brushed against your skin, tickling it gently, as he breathed in the refreshing scent of shampoo from your drying locks.

Taking a moment to bask in each other's presence, you soaked in the warmth that surrounded you. Somehow, Morpheus had the ability to fill even your world with enchantment and wonder, treating you as the Queen of Queens.

"I love you," you expressed. "So much that it takes my breath away.”

Your feelings were unique, unmatched, and transcending ordinary boundaries.

“And I too love you,” he replied. “I deeply cherish you.”

You let go of his hands and completed your turn, facing him fully. Your expression became serious, your smile and contentment disappearing in an instant. "You'll never leave me, right?" you asked earnestly.

Your question caught him off guard, and he needed a moment to process the fact that, for once, it was someone else begging him to stay.

"No. I will not.”

"Promise me," you pressed him, resonating with the wounds of past betrayals. "Promise me that no matter what, you won't break my heart.”

Your relationship with Morpheus had progressed in an unprecedented manner, surpassing all expectations you had when you first met him. Asking him such a question felt somewhat inappropriate, considering that you, as a mortal with a limited lifespan, were destined to grow old and eventually abandon him forever. And yet, you still craved that confirmation, the assurance that you could rely on his unwavering, devoted presence for as long as you existed.

It may have been selfish, but you couldn't imagine it any other way.

Morpheus appeared genuinely sincere, his eyes filled with unswerving convinction. "You have my word.”

With the office partially unusable, Ella invited you to come to her place to discuss matters with Oliver and assess the situation, in order to determine the next course of action. The repair costs were expected to be quite substantial, as they would involve the complete replacement of the electrical panel, two computers that were destroyed, as well as the need for various new components to repair the ones that could be salvaged. Additionally, there would be the expense of furnishing the studio anew and completely repainting its walls.

Although a portion of the apparel needed to be remade, thankfully, none of the approved works and sketches were lost in the fire. Taking everything into account, you were still on track to participate in the Fashion Show, albeit with a slight delay in progress.

Your full work activity was set to resume in the following week, despite the ongoing renovations in the studio. For a brief moment, you found yourself on the brink of expressing your suspicions about Maya, as she happened to still be present when, in theory, she had left the office over an hour before the incident. You wisely chose to keep them to yourself, opting to take a sip of the warm tea that Oliver had kindly prepared.

Now was not the right moment to address it. Or so you thought.

"I just can't understand what went wrong with the electrical system," Oliver remarked, removing his glasses and rubbing his weary eyes. "We perform checks every week, and the last one was just three days ago.”

You stared at the ripples forming in your tea, biting your tongue. ‘Not the right time,’ you repeated to yourself.

"And Y/N was in the studio working just a few minutes before. There were no issues going on there," Ella chimed in, unable to contain her own concerns.

You nodded in agreement. “Indeed. And let’s not forget, the panel was still intact when we went there to check.

“Right,” Ella confirmed.

"But if the electrical panel was fine prior to the fire, what could have caused it?" Oliver pondered aloud. “The authorities are still investigating. Apparently, they can’t rule out the possibility that someone intentionally started it. That’s ridiculous!”

Ella scoffed in disbelief. "That can't be! Nobody else was there apart from the two of us and Amy. Do we have a ghost wandering around the office or something?”

"Yeah, and I'm the Pope.”

A sudden ringing filled your ears, and your stomach clenched tightly, preventing you from taking another sip. You placed the mug on the table, took a deep breath, and interlocked your hands together, attempting to regain your composure and steady yourself.

"Guys, there's something I need to tell you," you declared, finally deciding that it was, after all, the right time for it to be revealed. "I saw Maya in front of the building the other night. I think she's the one who did it.”

The bomb had been dropped, and while you felt a surge of confidence, you were unsure about how your friends would react.

In the end, it turned out that you had set your expectations too high.

"Wait, what?" Ella frowned in confusion, her brows furrowing. "You're not falling back into that 'Maya hates me' obsession, are you?”

Your blood ran cold through your veins, and your expression turned blank. The weight of Ella's words and the implication behind them hit you like a sudden shock.

"Because right now, we have other pressing matters to attend to.”

The realization struck you hard - Ella didn't believe you. Taking a deep breath, you slumped your shoulders against the chair, preparing yourself to face the challenge ahead.

"Ella, this has nothing to do with a paranoid obsession," you asserted, your voice steady and determined. "I have valid reasons to suspect Maya, and I believe it's important for us to consider all possibilities in order to find the truth.”

"Yes, but what reason would Maya have to sabotage her own workplace?"

"I'm not inside her head. I'm just sharing with you what I witnessed."

"So you're suspecting her just because she came back? Maybe she was still nearby when it happened. There was a large crowd gathered due to the incident, after all. That would attract anyone's attention on the street.”

You rolled your eyes in frustration, fighting the urge to slam your hand against the table. "How can you be so blind? I may not have concrete proof at the moment, but can't you see that what she portrays at work is just a façade?”

“Enough!”

Oliver's voice reverberated in the room with a higher note, and when you turned your head, you noticed a look of rage on his face. It was a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor, and it left you feeling mortified, as if you had disappointed him for the first time.

"Maya has been a part of my team for years. You, on the other hand, have only recently joined," he stated.

The potential accusation in his sentence fueled a mix of anger and hurt. "Ah, I see. So now I'm the one being suspected?”

"Of course not," he clarified, his tone softening. "I trust you, even though Ella may know you better than I do. But still, I cannot allow you to make false accusations against any of my employees.”

You clenched your fists tightly, the pressure turning your knuckles white. "I understand," you said through gritted teeth. "As a new recruit, I suppose my opinions hold little weight in this, or any other matter.”

Oliver sighed heavily. "I'm not saying that your opinion doesn't matter. But I find it difficult to believe that Maya, someone who has been a dedicated member of our team, would go to such lengths to harm you or anyone else. This incident has affected the entire company, including Ella. We must consider all possibilities with care and not jump to conclusions."

You completely understood his point of view, but you hoped that they would at least give you the benefit of the doubt.

"Y/N, I haven't forgotten that Ella is safe because of you," he added. "I appreciate your willingness to protect us. I'm just asking for a bit more patience and understanding as we navigate through this.”

As you glanced back at your friend, you noticed her staring down at her hands in clear embarrassment, caught in the middle of the tense exchange. It felt as though both she and Oliver were cornering you, disregarding your warnings based on their perceived trustworthiness of Maya and the company as a whole.

You didn't expect your confession to be taken lightly, but you had hoped that the years of friendship you shared with Ella would have brought a deeper understanding and insight into your concerns.

"Do you remember the times I mentioned having this strange 'gut feeling' back in high school?" you asked her with hope and apprehension.

Ella immediately looked up, curiosity and recognition flickering in her eyes. “I do, yes.”

"Great. And how many times was I wrong about it?”

She opened her mouth, realization crossing her face as the memories came flooding back. “Uhm… zero.”

"Let's suppose you're right, let's say that hypothetically she was nearby and came to investigate. Did it occur to you that she didn't even come close to find out what was truly happening?” You insisted. “I saw her walking away. If that isn't suspicious enough, I don't know what is.”

They were left speechless, taken aback by your final response without knowing how to react.

You stared at the couple with a stern gaze, pushing the mug forward on the table. The last thing you wanted was to exacerbate the drama in their house, as their personal interpretation of the incident clearly contradicted yours, no matter what you had to say.

"Thanks for the tea," you said curtly, standing up from the chair without saying another word. The tension in the room had reached its breaking point, and you felt the need to remove yourself from it.

"Y/N, wait a second!"

Ella called out urgently, but you didn't pause or turn around to hear her excuses. Determined to create distance between yourself and your childhood friend, you walked briskly to the door, firmly closing it behind you and disregarding her pleas. The sound of your heels clicking on the polished tiles resonated as you descended the stairs, each step reflecting your irritation.

With the possibility that Maya could effectively be the culprit, you knew you had a wild card at your disposal - Morpheus. Intent on uncovering the truth and bringing justice to light, you embarked on this fresh endeavor with a renewed purpose.

The argument with Ella and Oliver had left you emotionally depleted, and a part of you had started to question whether you had acted impulsively or not. From their perspective, it was undoubtedly difficult to believe that someone who had only been working with them for a short time could have a better understanding of a team member than they ever did. Given the situation, it was natural for the couple to support Maya and vigorously defend her against everything you had disclosed.

You trudged to your apartment building, your feet heavy, sighing deeply to yourself and contemplating your next move. Considering Oliver's unwillingness to accept your worries, conducting your own investigation seemed like the most reasonable option at hand.

Yet, a part of you couldn't help but wonder: could they be right? Had you unfairly judged Maya solely based on her jealousy, without considering the possibility that she could have coincidentally been present in the vicinity when the fire broke out, and left out of shock?

Once again, your intuition affirmed that you were not imagining things or creating illusions. You always perceived an unsettling feeling about the way she constantly stared at you, reminiscent of a villain scheming for revenge.

Just as you were about to reach into your bag to retrieve the keys, a gentle meow echoed through the street, immediately grabbing your attention and causing you to slow down. A few feet away, you noticed a mesmerizing black cat staring at you, its eyes sparkling in the darkness. Its fur was incredibly sleek and shiny, resembling silk.

With a cautious smile, you approached the animal slowly and crouched down. The cat maintained complete stillness, calmly seated before you. Despite its non-stray appearance, there was no visible collar around its neck or any form of identification.

"Hey there. Where did you come from?”

The cat purred softly, rising onto all fours and slinking closer to you.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any food with me.”

The feline creature remained composed, appearing at ease in your presence. Its eyes, a captivating shade of light blue, immediately evoked thoughts of someone else.

It was peculiar, but the longer you gazed into those orbs, the stronger your conviction grew that they were far from ordinary. There was an undeniable aura of enchanting power coming from them, something that could only be attributed to a particular being.

For a moment, you dismissed it as an unlikely theory, but the energy radiating from the cat felt oddly familiar, causing you to instinctively utter the name of The Endless.

“Morpheus…?”

The gentle glow emanating from the Moonstone was all the confirmation you needed. The cat brushed its fur against your leg and walked past you, its shadow casting a shape on the ground before gradually transforming into something different. It became larger and taller, eventually taking the form of a man whom you knew very well.

Nothing could possibly surprise you anymore. A wide grin spread across your lips as you stood, the imposing black figure standing right behind you.

"Nice trick," you uttered, pivoting on your heels.

"You are a keen observer," he remarked with a touch of astonishment.

"I would recognize those eyes anywhere."

He offered a faint smile, but it faded as he sensed something unsettling in you.

"My love, what is troubling you?”

The fact that he could perceive your emotions even when they were not outwardly displayed was truly extraordinary.

And so, you recounted it all. “Well, I attempted to discuss my suspects with my friend and her husband, but they chose to label me as nothing more than an obsessive paranoid.”

"Y/N, I extended my offer of assistance. What is it that you wish for me to do?"

Even though you had regarded him as your secret weapon, now that he stood before you, you were hesitant about it. "Are you certain you want to proceed with this? I don't want you to feel like I’m using you for my own benefit.”

Morpheus appeared puzzled, unable to grasp the reason behind your sudden fear. “I assure you, that is not what I think of you.”

"But... it would be unfair for me to take advantage of your power even more than I already have."

“You did no such thing.”

As you pressed your lips together, you found yourself at a loss for words, unsure of what else to say.

“Y/N, someone has attempted to cause you harm. I do not need any other reason to do what you ask.”

You were deeply touched by the protectiveness he exhibited towards you, and you couldn't bring yourself to turn down his plea for support. With a bright smile returning to your lips, you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting them rest on his shoulders.

"I have this colleague, Maya Davies, who has been harboring a grudge against me ever since the day of my interview. I believe that she was the one starting the fire, but without solid evidence, I am unable to make a formal accusation.”

Morpheus nodded, his hands gently encircling your waist.

"I wouldn't even know how to prove it, so I was thinking... is there any way you could, I don’t know, persuade her to voluntarily confess her crime, maybe?”

"My love, as the King of Dreams... and Nightmares," he said, emphasizing the last word. "There is nothing I cannot do to 'inspire' mortals.”

You had never been one to seek vengeance, so the fact that you were deriving pleasure from the idea of him unleashing his darkest powers to frighten Maya made you question your own character and become skeptical. However, not only were you endangered by the fire (largely due to your reckless actions), but Ella was also put at risk.

And so, you agreed, expressing your gratitude with a light kiss on his lips.

The music blasted at its loudest, drowning out any other sounds. Despite the overwhelming noise, Maya and the others on the dancefloor remained unfazed. The club overflowed with lively people, bouncing, twirling, and thoroughly enjoying the moment. Maya, too, let go of all her tension and anxiety, releasing them with each graceful wave of her body.

She threw herself into the performance with a boundless energy, exerting all the force she could muster in her impromptu choreography. Yet, despite the intensity she was infusing into her dance, she appeared completely unaffected and didn't break a sweat.

And then, her gaze landed on him. That enigmatic figure dressed in black stood just a few feet away, his long coat skimming the floor. His piercing stare held an intensity she had never seen before, his eyes enthralling and luminous. His dark hair appeared as if someone had just run their fingers through it.

She vividly recalled that moment when she was at the club with her colleagues, and her eyes locked onto him for the first time as he strolled leisurely through the crowd. He was stunningly handsome, fitting the image of the man she had always envisioned for herself. Overwhelmed by a surge of admiration, she couldn't resist taking a bold step forward, mustering the courage to ask him to dance and ensnare him in her charm.

But before she could even approach the man who appeared to be the personification of her deepest desires and fantasies, she was hit with a cruel twist of fate. The universe played a maddening trick on her, revealing that he was already in a relationship with none other than you.

You. The very person who had not only snatched away the job she had coveted for five years, but also seemed to have effortlessly secured it without undergoing a proper trial period. She was Isaac's right-hand person, possessing far more experience than you could ever accumulate. She had undeniable talent and excelled at her work, and yet, Oliver had opted to assign the position to her wife's old friend rather than choosing her.

It was infuriating, disheartening, and incredibly demotivating. Not only had you marginalized her, restricting her to tasks that were beneath her abilities, but you had also managed to find the perfect boyfriend, a partner she could never aspire to have.

She constantly grappled with finding someone who was sincerely captivated by more than just her physical appearance and beautiful face. She yearned for a partner who shared her outlook, didn't see black as a negative, melancholic color, and could embrace her distinct, goth-like style.

This man standing before her embodied everything she wanted, and the fact that she was hindered from getting close to him, once again due to your interference, pushed her to the edge of rage.

She harbored a deep resentment towards you. She needed to possess what you had. She hoped you would step aside and surrender what was rightfully hers.

And so she smiled enticingly at the man, using her long nails to beckon him towards her. He appeared to respond, making his way to her and coming to a stop just inches away from her face. She ceased her dancing, delicately running her fingers along the fabric of his coat. He remained motionless, his gaze fixed intently on hers, not even blinking.

"I was hoping to see you again," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the strangely distant and faint music. "I had no idea you were Y/N's boyfriend. I wanted to invite you for a dance."

He didn't respond, but she was intrigued by his enigmatic aura.

"I wonder what you even see in her. She can be so irritating, always putting on a fake smile and pretending to be innocent," she told him aloud, her inquisitiveness tinged with a touch of disdain.

As she noticed his expression getting cold, she realized that perhaps she should have kept that thought to herself. She felt a complete lack of inhibition, as if all restraint had been cast aside.

"If only it could be me," she confessed, her hands gliding along his chest before enveloping his neck in a tight embrace. "I wish I could have it all."

She parted her crimson lips, attempting to initiate a kiss that held the promise of something more. The man made no move to reciprocate, keeping his hands firmly at his sides, as if her very presence repulsed him.

And then, he spoke. His voice reverberated like an echo, booming and commanding, resonating in her and filling the space surrounding them.

"How far are you willing to go to attain your desires?”

It wasn't a question posed out of mere curiosity. If anything, it had an ominous warning, instilling a sense of terror.

“I… what do you mean…?”

Maya quickly pulled away from him, allowing her arms to drop before she instinctively crossed them, hugging her own upper body in a protective gesture.

“Do you understand the damage your actions could have caused?”

Everything around her plunged into darkness, as if the world had vanished in a puff of smoke. The people in the club and the music disappeared, leaving only the two of them illuminated by a solitary spotlight.

“My actions…? I…..”

"You do know.”

She understood exactly what he was referring to. Deep down, she had been evading the truth, trying to bury it and push it away for the past few days. It was a reality she had contributed to creating, and one she wasn't prepared to meet face to face.

“Please, no…”

"Those women could have endured severe injuries at your hands. Or worse,” he stated with anger and accusation.

She trembled like a leaf, her body quivering uncontrollably. She sank to her knees on the cold floor, her curly hair cascading in front of her eyes, partially obscuring her view.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He began to pace in a slow, menacing circle around her, exuding threat and intimidation. “Perhaps you did not, but the truth of what you’ve done is engraved into your mind.”

She shook her head vigorously. "I didn't know... I didn't think it would... that they…." Her voice trailed off, filled with regret and disbelief. "This was supposed to be Y/N's breakthrough collection. With everything destroyed, she couldn't have participated in the Fashion Show under her own name. We have other pieces that can be showcased, and I have countless projects that I've tried to present to Oliver repeatedly.”

Her nails pierced through the skin of her palms, but she couldn't feel a thing.

“Why couldn't it have been me? Why did he choose to overlook all my efforts?!" She screamed in frustration. “I couldn't let her ruin everything I've worked tirelessly to achieve. I never intended to harm her, I swear! I had no idea they would throw themselves into the fire just to save a pen drive and a few garments!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, cascading to the floor and pooling into a strangely large puddle. The reflection in the water mirrored her profound distress and heartache.

"You must confess your mistake," he commanded. "Unless you wish to be haunted by your nethermost nightmares.”

“But… I can’t! If I do, I will lose it all!”

Somehow, he appeared to have grown significantly taller, his presence commanding and imposing. "You offer nothing but excuses in an attempt to justify your wrongdoing. You have chosen to walk a dark path in search of a light that will not come to you, not in this way.”

She sobbed uncontrollably, her voice trembling and broken as tears continued to stream down her face. The puddle on the floor grew larger with each passing moment, reflecting a horrifying distortion of herself. In the reflection, she saw a monstrous depiction, with decaying, melting skin that peeled away in patches. Frantically, she touched her face, moving her hands up and down, screaming in terror and gasping for breath.

"So be it," he declared with a somber tone. "If it is darkness that you want, then you shall have it in abundance," the warning was made unmistakably clear as the puddle transformed from salty water to thick, crimson blood, emphasizing the gravity of the consequences.

When she looked up, the man appeared to be gone, leaving her alone in an unfamiliar place. All sources of light had been extinguished, plunging her into the shadows.

Maya awoke with the most severe tachycardia she had ever suffered from, her heart racing uncontrollably. The feeling of emptiness tightened inside her, saturating her insides with a frigid void that she had no idea how to alleviate.

Your peaceful immersion in a captivating new book was abruptly shattered by the jarring sound of the doorbell. Annoyed and displeased, you emitted a grunt of frustration before reluctantly abandoning the comfort of the couch, dragging your feet heavily. As you opened the door, your eyebrow instinctively arched in surprise at the sight of Ella standing before you. Her appearance was disheveled and worn-out, leaving you concerned for her well-being. Pressing her lips together, she mustered a feeble "hi" that barely escaped her lips, conveying her exhaustion and distress.

You instinctively crossed your arms, your gaze darting between Ella and the pink box she held delicately in her hands. It was a sight to behold, with a beautiful red ribbon adorning its top and hand-painted hearts scattered across the container. It exuded an air of intricacy and affection.

"May I present you with an olive branch?" Ella spoke nervously, holding out the box that emitted a delightful aroma of something incredibly sweet. "I made your favorite cookies as a gesture of peace.”

“Are you trying to bribe me? Because it's definitely working,” you replied with a smile.

Your comment effortlessly broke the tension that was holding Ella captive, prompting a delightful chuckle out of her. She shook her head, a glimmer of relief and gratitude shining in her eyes. "It's more of a way for me to apologize. I have been such a terrible friend."

"Don't say that.”

"But it's true! You tried to warn me about something important, and I completely disregarded you. After knowing you for so long, how could I even entertain the thought that you were paranoid? I should have known better than that!”

As you noticed her teary eyes, your heart softened, and any lingering anger dissipated. With a gesture of forgiveness, you stepped aside, granting her permission to enter. "Would you like to come in, or would you rather stay out here playing the self-loathing game?"

She nodded enthusiastically, placing the box into your hands and gently closing the door behind her. Taking a moment to survey your space, she meticulously examined the furniture design and the personal touch you had incorporated into the room. "What a nice place. It looks so...”

“Cozy?”

"I was about to say it is so 'you', but yes, cozy works too."

You watched her attentively as she navigated through the apartment, hesitantly settling down on the couch. Placing the box of cookies on the kitchen table, you couldn't help but notice her nervousness reflected in her movements and audible sighs. There was more to her visit than a simple apology; something weighed heavily on her mind.

That "something" was likely the very thing you had been consciously avoiding in her presence. Nevertheless, you took a seat next to her on the couch, leaning against the back cushions.

"Y/N, I'm serious. I really need to apologize to you. You were right... about the whole thing," Ella said earnestly.

"Are you talking about Maya?" you asked with apprehension and curiosity.

"Yes, she actually came to us this morning. It was quite unexpected, and she looked so pale that I thought she had fallen ill.”

Immediately, you straightened up, tilting your head slightly to the side. “What did she want?”

Ella's words hung in the air, heavy with revelation. "She admitted it. All of it. She told us about the fire, about how she pretended to leave by taking advantage of Amy's distraction. In reality, she was waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Your eyes flickered with realization as you contemplated the situation. "So, that noise I heard when I left the studio...”

"You probably heard her bumping against one of the chairs. It seems that she wasn't thinking straight and acted on impulse. She was certain that we would find out before she could set her plan into motion. Go figure.”

You instinctively massaged your temple, attempting to alleviate the growing stress. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “She told us everything we wanted to know, and more.”

"Even the reason?”

As you listened intently to Ella's account, the full extent of Maya's motives began to unfold. She had been driven by an all-consuming urge to sabotage your work, hoping to dismantle it and compel the team to start over with her own projects that Oliver had previously discarded. Her confession painted a picture of jealousy and resentment, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

"This is absurd," you blurted out, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "I can understand her resentment towards me, but what was she even thinking? Starting a fire in the studio could have not only destroyed the entire place, but also endangered the lives of those still inside.”

Ella nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a mix of understanding and disappointment. "I know," she replied solemnly. "She was so blinded by her fury that she didn't consider the potential damages. She believed that we would discover the fire quickly enough and that the Rescue Service would handle the situation in time. She wasn’t expecting it to spread the way it did.”

“It was a reckless and dangerous gamble,” you concluded. "She could have become trapped inside and injured herself in the process.”

“In a way, she did. She was limping.”

“What are you going to do?”

Ella clenched the fabric of her trousers tightly, a visible display of her inner turmoil. With Oliver taking the lead and contemplating involving the police, her thoughts were muddling her judgment and clarity, leaving her feeling inefficient. The trust and stability she once had seemed to crumble, leaving her in a state of emotional upheaval. The trauma she experienced was exacerbated by the realization of betrayal and deceit.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, you provided a source of support as she rested her head against yours. While you were determined to express your gratitude to Morpheus later, a pang of guilt washed over you for subjecting your friend to a similar ordeal.

It was a necessary action that had to be taken for the sake of the company, but was it truly the right approach?

"We are also to blame. If we had listened to her, if we had given her a chance...”

"Ella, don't go there. What you did doesn't justify any of that. It’s insane.”

Ella sniffled and wiped away a tear before it could roll down her cheek. As she looked at you, she swallowed her pain and allowed the right words to form in her head. There was so much going on inside her, so many things she couldn't easily put together on her own.

It was only a matter of time before she would reach the part you had hoped she would forget.

"Y/N, there's something I want to ask, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

The moment had arrived, catching you completely unprepared. At that juncture, however, there was no way to avoid it.

“Okay.”

Ella glanced down, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. "When the electrical panel exploded, you were right there. The fire engulfed you, and I watched, fearing that you would emerge as a charred corpse.”

You couldn't even come up with a plausible lie. There was no way to divert her attention from what she had witnessed.

"I was so terrified... I thought I had lost you in that moment. But when the flames around you died down, you were completely unharmed. No scratches, no scars, even your clothes were untouched.”

Her gaze dropped to the Moonstone resting on your collarbones, its blue flashes swirling across the surface as you breathed. A faint rainbow-like streak seemed to blend with it.

"I saw your necklace glowing. I mean, it was actually emitting a blue light that seemed to illuminate the dilapidated room. At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me from the shock, but then it happened again when you pulled me out.”

You allowed her to continue, remaining silent without saying a single word.

"The flames surrounded us, but somehow... they didn't even reach us.”

“Ella, I-”

"Please, tell me what's happening. Anything will do, just assure me that I'm not going crazy.”

What were you supposed to say? How could you navigate the situation without compromising Morpheus and his identity?

“You’re not going crazy,” you confirmed.

"Okay, that's something," she muttered. "So what, are you some kind of witch? That would at least explain your supposed sixth sense.”

“I’m not a witch. I’m human, Ella. Just like you.”

She appeared to struggle with believing it. "What is that necklace, then? You told me it was a gift from your boyfriend. Is that true?”

You had to approach things with careful consideration, uncertain of what Morpheus wanted you to disclose or keep hidden.

"Ella, please listen to me. I understand that you're confused, but there are certain matters that I can't easily discuss.”

She clicked her tongue. "Come on Y/N, it's me! I promise I won't judge, and I won't breathe a word to anyone. Not even to Oliver if you want to keep this between us.”

Could you really ask her to keep such a significant truth from her husband? While it might not be an outright harmful lie, you couldn't allow her to hide anything from the man she loved. It didn’t feel fair.

"Maybe one day I'll tell you. But for now, I need to ask you to trust me. Please, give me some time.”

She wasn't happy about it, but eventually, she accepted your terms and let the subject go. "If you believe it's for the best, I won’t insist. Regardless of whether you're a witch or not, I owe you my life.”

You playfully bumped your forearm against hers, just like you used to do when you were younger. She took your hands and gave them a gentle squeeze, and together, you both reveled in the joy of rediscovering your sisterly bond.

I wish you all a Happy New Year! May 2024 make all your dreams come true. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the support I'm receiving since the end of 2022. See you in January with Chapter 14!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 14 ->

#the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic

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