#beside you on the floor and staring at whatever media you show me without speaking much and only occasionally seeking further warmth from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agustdakasuga · 3 years

Text

Reflection Of You | Chapter 3

Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.

Looks like you couldn’t deal with the negativity and the scary fans on your own. But you couldn’t bear to burden Yoongi further with it.

Chapter warning(s): threatening words, death threats, name calling. Mentions of someone getting cursed through fantasy dark magic. Please do not take it seriously and only read at your own discretion.

Ever since the news, things have been... eventful. Most of the ARMY seemed accepting and supportive, most. Some ARMYs have found your social media accounts and were spreading it around. While some of the messages were nice, there were still some threatening ones.

“Have you told hyung?” Taehyung asked. You jumped, the phone slipping out of your hands and onto the floor. Taehyung had come to go through some music with Yoongi and they were working in the room the whole day.

“You scared me, Tae.” You bent down to pick up the device, tucking it into your pocket.

“So are you?” Taehyung blinked.

“Tell him what? Exactly.” You sighed, continuing with your cleaning chores of the kitchen. Taehyung stopped you, gripping your wrist, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let this go.

“You need to tell him. He can do something, or tell the company to do something.” Taehyung said.

“Thanks for your concern, Tae. But I can handle a few young girls without having to involve Yoongi. I don’t want him blaming himself again. It’s just social media, I don’t need it. Besides, this has probably caused a lot of trouble for the company already, I’m not about to add on more.” You said softly, not wanting Yoongi to hear.

“These aren’t a few young girls, noona. They’re crazy, violent. They aren’t ARMY, you know that.” Taehyung insisted.

“Whatever it is. It’s nothing dangerous. If things get worse, then I’ll tell Yoongi.”

“Tell me what?” Yoongi appeared. He blinked when he saw Taehyung gripping your wrist, you and him having such a hushed conversation, that apparently wasn’t hushed enough.

“Nothing.” You muttered and pulled your wrist away.

“What did you do?” Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed. Taehyung shook his head, going to the fridge to get a bottle of juice before leaving the kitchen.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” You smiled, knowing that Yoongi was still genuinely concerned for you. Drying your hands, you walked up to him and kissed the furrowed eyebrows with a smile.

“Take a break. We can continue cleaning later.” Yoongi held your hand.

“I’m almost done.” You shrugged. Yoongi sighed, giving in to you. His hands moved to hold your waist as he leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek. Squeezing your waist once more, he poured himself a cold coffee from the fridge and left to continue working with Taehyung.

“Where was I...?” You turned to finish your cleaning. When you were done with the kitchen, you busied yourself by vacuuming the floor and dusting the shelves until the house was spotless.

“All done.” You smiled, happy with yourself. You sat down on the couch, looking back at your phone.

‘Why would oppa go for someone ugly like you?’

‘We know you’re just using him, whore. ’

‘You think we won’t find you?’

‘If BTS loses popularity, it’s all your fault. If only you died.’

With that, you decided to deactivate all your social media. You deleted all the apps from your phone, willing yourself not to think about it. Even if you acted unaffected, a part of you was creeped out by just how much these people can find out about you. Luckily, you had no family that they could track down and hurt as revenge.

RINGGGG

“Hello? Geumjae oppa?” It was rare but not odd for Yoongi’s older brother to be calling you. He owned a nice cafe in Daegu, being a chef.

“Hey, (y/n). Is Yoongi busy?”

“He’s in the home studio, working with Taehyung. He must have silenced his phone. What’s up? Can I take a message?” You went to retrieve a notepad and pen just in case.

“Oh... Don’t worry. It isn’t important, I’ll just call him. My parents told me what happened, and I read about it in the news, how is everything on your end?”

“Manageable.” You replied shortly.

“I understand. Even as his brother, I get some threats sometimes. Don’t take them to heart, alright? If it gets too much, you have to tell Yoongi. So the company can take action. Still, you should be careful if you go out. Maybe have someone follow you for now.”

“I will, thanks oppa. It’s a little shocking how they managed to find me so quickly. We’re just laying low now. I don’t want to unnecessarily stress Yoongi out even more.” You said.

“You’re always putting others before yourself, (y/n) ah. Oh, looks like I have to go. I’ll see you two when you come to Daegu.”

“You can count on it! I’ll see you, oppa.” You chuckled and hung up. Since you got a little sweaty and dirty from cleaning, you went to take a shower.

When you came out, you saw Yoongi sitting on the couch, sipping whiskey. Taehyung didn’t seem to be around anymore, his shoes from the doorway were gone too.

“Tae went back?” You asked. Yoongi just grunted in reply.

“What’s wrong? Why are you mad?” You stood at the end of the couch, putting your hands on your hips.

“How long were you going to keep me in the dark? About the fans finding your social media and harassing you, sending you death threats. Or how about that your boss had put you on indefinite period of leave.” Yoongi spoke. There was so many emotions in his voice, betrayal, sadness, anger, frustration. You sighed, looking away.

“Who told you? Tae?”

“Taehyung knows?!” Yoongi raised his voice.

“That’s what we were discussing earlier... In the kitchen. He saw my phone. Unintentionally, of course. But if it wasn’t Tae who told you, then who?” You asked.

“That’s all you care about? Well if you must know, Geumjae hyung just called me to tell me that some fans showed up at his cafe and he saw the comments on your social media before you deleted them. As for your job, your boss told me when I sent an official BigHit letter about the situation.” Yoongi explained.

“Those comments are just nothing but words. And with the job, I can just find another one. I can handle it, Yoons. It’s no big deal.” You spoke calmly, quite the opposite of him.

“Stop saying you can handle it, (y/n)! Stop saying it’s no big deal! I... Ugh...” He held onto his head in frustration.

“Then what do you want me to say?” You closed your eyes to take a deep breath.

“I know you’re doing this so I don’t feel guilty or whatever but you saying it’s no big deal makes me feel worse! It feels like I can’t even do a proper job of protecting my girlfriend, that she feels the need to hide from me just because she thinks that I can’t take it.” He hissed. Now you knew he was just saying things he didn’t mean.

“Yoongi, you know that’s not true.” You crossed your arms.

“It sure feels that way.” He replied. You bit your lip. knowing that speaking to him when he was in this state wouldn’t help the both of you. You would just end up losing your cool and screaming at him too.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.” You turned around and went to the room. Before you closed the door, you heard the door to Yoongi’s studio slam shut.

“Just great.” You sighed. After drying your hair, you put your moisturiser on and got ready for bed.

In time like these, you just needed to give him space. It was known that Yoongi didn’t express emotions well so he often said things in a fit of anger but he really doesn’t mean it.

3 am...

You hadn’t been able to sleep so you settled for a book that both Namjoon and Yoongi had recommended. The bedroom door slowly crept open. Yoongi stood there, teary eyed and red nosed. He looked at you with a slightly blank stare. You closed your book, standing from the bed to hug him.

“I... I...” His whole body shook.

“I can’t just sit... and wait for that dreaded call... that something happened to you. I can’t, (y/n). I’ll go crazy. I’m so f*cking scared.” He shook his head. You knew Yoongi was paranoid, he was always worrying about something.

“It’ll be okay, Yoongi. You’re scaring yourself.” You said softly.

“I can’t let you go.”

“No one says you have to. I’ll always be right here, Yoons. It’ll take a lot for anyone to drive a wedge between us, I promise you.” You kissed his temple.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I know I should trust you more and shouldn’t have made you feel weak or useless. It’s just, I’m scared too. This is all new to me.” You continued.

“We’ll get through this together.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours. You grabbed a tissue from your nightstand, gently wiping his eyes and nose. Yoongi stood still, sniffling ever so often. You threw the tissues away and laid with him. If possible, Yoongi held you closer to him than any other night.

“Tell me about what you’re working on.” You changed the subject. Yoongi was always in the mood to talk about music.

“Tae’s mixtape looks like it’s coming along well, he has come very far in terms of putting his own music together. I’m gonna start working on the songs I promised Jimin and Jin hyung. ” Yoongi said.

“That sounds awesome.” You said encouragingly.

“Really? It seems that all I talk about is music. I’m even using my break to work on it.” Yoongi scoffed at himself.

“It’s your break, Yoons. You can do whatever you want with it. And I never get tired of listening to you talk about your work. You just sound so proud and confident when you do.” You confessed, blushing.

“Are you blushing?!” Yoongi’s eyes widened.

“Whaaaaaaat? I’m allowed to blush over my boyfriend. Geez. I didn’t think I would be confessing all my inner thoughts today.” You cleared your throat. Yoongi let out a soundless laugh, showing his genuine gummy smile, the one that you just love so much.

“You’re too cute, aegi.” Yoongi stroked your hair.

“Stop embarrassing me. I’m supposed to be the one to tease you, not the other way around.” You scrunched your nose, pulling away from his embrace to hide under the blanket.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop. Can you come out, please? I want to cuddle my girl as I sleep.” Yoongi persuaded. You slowly removed the blanket, letting Yoongi tuck you into the crook of his neck comfortably.

As you and Yoongi were getting ready to head to Daegu, Yoongi was told to pick up his fan gifts from BigHit. All fan gifts are sent to BigHit for security checks before the boys can collect them and open them at home. Yoongi drove one of BigHit’s borrowed cars, which is a Hyundai SUV, considering they were the brand ambassadors.

“Ready?” Yoongi asked, adjusting his bucket hat.

“Yeah.” You pulled your mask up, carrying two cups of iced coffee. You handed one to Yoongi while you locked the front door. After that, Yoongi used his free hand to hold yours.

“Should we have asked Sejin oppa to drive us?” You asked as Yoongi unlocked the car doors.

“This car was checked and approved by BigHit. The windows are also tinted so they wouldn’t know it’s us. And we use the back entrance.” Yoongi informed.

“Alright.” You got in. As you closed the door, Yoongi grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it. You smiled at him as he started the engine. You played music from your phone, ready to jam with him like you always do.

“Ready?” He turned to you. You nodded and he drove out.

“Now for a throwback.” You announced as you played ‘No More Dream’, much to Yoongi’s annoyance. You would play old BTS songs from time to time just to mess with him.

“Aegi, please.” He groaned.

“I want a big house, big cars and big rings.” You were too busy rapping his part to hear him. Yoongi burst out laughing, you rapping, especially to his songs, never failed to make him laugh. You were even throwing hand signs like he would do.

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” Yoongi shook his head, joining you in the song. He took the vocal parts while you took the rapping parts. Hearing Yoongi try to reach high notes killed you.

“To all the youngsters out there without dreams.” The two of you said Namjoon’s ending line together.

“I can’t even believe we had fans back then.” Yoongi chuckled.

“Hey, don’t shun the ARMY. They’ll love you no matter the era.” You scoffed with your arms crossed. You remember how Yoongi would come in after practice, looking so tired but still diligently picking out CDs to buy.

“I remember you bringing me your first album.” You reminisced with a small smile. Yoongi cringed.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Why? You were so cute and nervous. I think that was when I started to develop feelings for you.” You giggled. Yoongi had burst into the store, presenting you the signed album with a deep bow. He had turned so red and was so flustered that he spoke with a stutter. You found it adorable but what made your heart swell was the personal note Yoongi wrote for you.

“That’s when you had feelings for me?! Then why did I wait like 4 years to ask you out?!” Yoongi screeched in outrage. You just shrugged.

“At that time, you and the others were so unsure of where your careers would lead you, who knew what the future held. Starting a relationship wouldn’t have been the smart thing to do.” You explained lightly.

“Still, I could have had you by my side.” He grumbled.

“Whether I was your girlfriend or not, I would have always been by your side, Yoon. For you and the others.”

“Yeah but I would have preferred if you were by my side, as my girl.” He scoffed and you reached over to stroke his cheek lightly, not wanting to distract him from driving too much.

“But here we are. I don’t think waiting a few years has changed my feelings for you. Things happen for a reason.” You smiled.

“You and your philosophies... You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like Namjoon and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He teased. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. As Yoongi drove past the front of BigHit, there were a few girls sitting on the floor.

“Don’t look.” Yoongi said, not even having to turn to you. But it was too late, you saw all the words of hate and anger directed towards you, Yoongi and the rest of Bangtan.

“I told you not to look.” Yoongi said softly.

“It’s inevitable...” You looked down at your lap. You hated that the rest of the boys were also getting the heat for this, they didn’t deserve it.

“Mr Min.” The security guard greeted as Yoongi rolled the window down. He opened the barrier for Yoongi to drive in. He entered the private, underground carpark to the BigHit building. He backed into his parking space.

“Hey, it’ll pass. Remember?” Yoongi held your chin and leaned in to give you a comforting kiss. You gave a small smile, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Let’s do this quickly. Then we’ll go home.” He said. You hummed in agreement, exiting the car with him.

“Hey.” Yoongi greeted the stuff with a bow and you followed suit.

“It’s in the conference room.” He told you as the two of you took the lift up. Yoongi held your hand the entire time. You went into the empty conference room to see a stack of gifts there. What surprised you was that there was a small stack with your name labelled on them. You blinked, turning to Yoongi, who just shrugged.

“They’re checked for dangerous items. So go ahead.” He encouraged. You opened the first box, seeing a stuffed black cat that was dressed similarly to Yoongi. You giggled, shoving it into Yoongi’s face.

“It’s you. Lil meow meow.”

“Whatever makes you happy, aegi.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and looked through some of his gifts. There were nice, heartwarming letters in most of the boxes.

“Aww, look.” There was a nice fanart of a faceless girl playing with a black kitten, presumably Yoongi. It was done so nicely with watercolour, you couldn’t wait to display it.

“That’s you.” You pointed to the kitten that was rolled in yarn.

“Wow, I didn’t even think of that.” Yoongi said sarcastically. You slapped his arm. He read some letters while waiting for you.

“What?” You opened a box to see some few odd objects inside, not something one would give as a gift. There was also a tarot card inside, The Devil. There was no letter inside at all. It creeped you out slightly but it wasn’t particularly threatening so you just closed the box.

“What’s that?” Yoongi asked.

“Some nice notes put together.” You lied with a smile.

“Let’s go home and open the rest of these.” You told him. Yoongi nodded, placing the gifts onto the trolley that was provided and pushing it back down to the carpark.

“Min Yoongi!” Someone called out just as you reached the carpark. The both of you looked up but your reaction was too late.

“Ah!” Your first instinct was to protect your face, causing the blade to slash your arm. You crumbled slightly, face scrunching in slight pain as blood began to seep out. Yoongi’s eyes widened in horror.

“Aegi!” Yoongi was in shock. Before he could pull you behind him, you felt yourself fall to the ground, a sudden weakness taking over your system.

“Yah! What did you do?!” Yoongi screamed at this intruder.

“If I can’t have Yoongi, no one can.” She smiled as she met eyes with you. You laid on the ground, shivering. Your vision blurred horribly and you felt light headed. Was that what the box was earlier? Witchcraft? Does witchcraft still exist or does it even work? Yoongi called out to you but he felt so distant even as he hovered over you.

“Time to disappear.” She grinned and clapped her hands.

“Aegi! (y/n)! Can you hear me?!” Yoongi shook you.

“Yoon-” Your vision faded to black.

Series Masterlist

Tag list

@veronawrites @diamonddia-mond @georgie-me-myself-i @nlost21 @aqueenieme @nello-rie @ireallylikeyourwriting @imascreamerbabymakemeamute @kimahnjung98 @kimmieloveswho @aianloveseven @pb-n-juju @myggummy @baby-noodles @bt21chim @cait-with-luv @bbgniecyy @ggukkieland @awsome-small-k @huhuehuey @yeontanismypresident @strangeobjectmaker @mariana-mmtz @multicolourunicorn @zae007live @yiyi4657 @writingdust @hqtetsurou @fangirl125reader @saveme-imfine @untamedgrape @simplymemyself @cheonsa-unnie @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @vishakhas-world @tinyoonsblog @mamemimoimoi @iamsherlocked271 @samararose21 @cherry-suna

312 notes · View notes

spidxysense · 3 years

Text

Back to You | 14

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: Yay I updated! I hope you guys like this one, I was stuck for a bit there but once I sat down and got to typing, I really finished it in one sitting. I was just planning on updating it bit by bit lol. Let me know what you guys think, Love you!!!!!!

Word count: 2,591

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

In a few short months of your movie premier with Timothee, you were finally able to release your double-release album, and the response was massive, to say the least. You'd been getting calls from different show hosts' upcoming awarding ceremonies. Still, you couldn't for life in you accept, all except for the Oscars, which your manager told you was a must since you'd be attending in the first place anyway and that performing at the Oscars was a big deal given that you also starred in films and shows.

You turned in bed, facing Timothee's sleeping face. He had been in town for a week now, back on a break from filming in Hungary. Then he'd be back to film in England in a couple of weeks. After your talk on your premiere night, it was to an agreement that whatever you had going on was just two people exploring and experiencing things with someone they had strong feelings for. There wasn't a need for a media circus to cover anything about you two except your movie.

You move his arm, placed it over your waist, and sit up slowly in bed, making sure not to stir Timothee. The jetlag must be shit. You stretched your arms in front of you, glancing at the clock that read 2:07 AM. You get up, grabbing Timothee's white shirt from the floor, and, putting it on, walking over to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching some of the reddening parts of your neck courtesy of Timothee, and then you notice the toothbrushes… there were two. From this single thing alone, it had you catching everything about the bathroom, how there were two towels, one black, and one violet, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

You walked over to the nightstand beside the bed, putting on your skinny jeans, turning on the lamp, and noticing his wallet. Inside was a picture of you. Opening the closet doors, the ones hung up were various suits, jackets, and even dresses you've worn to events. Why didn't he just send these back? Why would he let you keep your stuff in his house?

You drag your feet downstairs, noticing small details you'd been blind to before, like the large dog bed positioned by the door despite Timothee telling you he could only ever get himself to take care of a tiny dog. You noticed the colored mugs and bowls, a deep dull navy blue color, the same as the ones in your house. Suddenly, everything feels as if it's moving too fast. You both agreed there was no relationship, and there was attraction, but why does his home feel like it's become yours as well?

You sit down, taking a few deep breaths before deciding to stand up and grab your cardigan from the coathanger, opening the front door and closing it behind you as you waited for a taxi to bring you to the more active part of the city at night.

You just couldn't deal with a relationship right now. You couldn't let your heart get broken again, so you have to find ways to distract yourself.

The car stops in front of you, driving off into the night and dropping you off by a club that Troye agreed to meet you at.

You and Timothee had an attraction, but you both agreed there was no label; ergo, there was no intimate relationship even though you both have done everything together. No boyfriend means you were free to do whatever you wanted without worrying about him. But if you were honest with yourself, this was more of you suggesting something you already knew Timothee wasn't too keen on agreeing with but would just because he thought that having something with you was better than absolutely nothing. You saw Troye waiting out by the back entrance for you when he spotted you and called you over. Almost like clockwork, every time you snuck out away from Timothee, everything in you screamed to turn back, to clear your head, and for the first time, you listened.

You motioned for Troye to go ahead and sent him a text that you'd probably just head home because you weren't feeling well. He gave you a knowing look before looking like he finally approved of your actions and sent you a quick and short 'Good." text, and headed inside.

You walked around for a while after that. Soon it was already just about 5 in the morning, and even though you wouldn't let yourself come to any conclusion as to what you even wanted out of this almost relationship with Timothee, you still found yourself back at his front door.

You took out the keys in your pocket, slowly opening the door only to find Timothee sat on the couch, his knees up to his chest as he stared off into space, either deep in thought or trying to keep himself awake… maybe even both.

When he saw you enter, a soft smile formed on his face, and for some reason, that made you smile too.

"Hey, you." He spoke softly.

You sat down quietly next to him, instantly he set his feet on the ground and reached over to embrace you in a hug, the familiar scent of Timothee that never left you that evening even more evident… It felt and smelled familiar, and right now, while your mind was a mess, familiarity was what you needed.

Timothee lifted his head, worried, "Hey, are you alright?"

You sighed, "I don't want to hurt you."

He murmured quietly into your neck as he peppered kisses, "You could never."

You pulled away, feeling guilt in your bones, "Aren't you even a little bit frustrated that we've been like this for months? That even in private, we can't even say that we're in a relationship?"

You gave you a reassuring look, "We both wanted this Y/N."

You sat up, "Except we didn't… You didn't." You corrected yourself, "You're bringing your mother to the fucking Oscars next month because I told you we couldn't be seen together at carpets for Pete's sake."

You stood up, starting to pace back and forth, "We have to coordinate outfits for the sake of not matching, and we never go out because I can't be seen with you in fear that we're going to get found out. I'm a terrible fucking person, and I don't understand how you're so okay with this."

Timothee was grinning, sleep still in his eyes, "I'm okay with it because I love you, Y/N."

You froze in your spot, "You what?"

He nodded and got up, walking over to you. The blue light of the early morning peaking through the curtain made this moment feel and look ethereal, "I said I love you, Y/N. I've known that I loved you from the moment I met you." He kissed the top of your head as he embraced you.

You shook your head, "No, no, no, you don't. I'll even list more shit I've done to you just so you understand how and why you don't love me."

Timothee chuckled, "And yet despite all this... all that's registering in my head is the fact that you've been thinking of me and only me this whole time. You've been worried about how you're hurting me because you don't want to."

And that's when you realized that Timothee was right. This whole time you've been thinking of Timothee and how much you wanted to protect him from you, but he never wanted to be protected from you because he knew that you could never hurt him. You rested your forehead against his.

"I-I need to go. I need to think."

He smiled sadly, "I'll be here when you're ready. I'll always be here Y/N until you don't want me to be here anymore."

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

You sat in your house, since leaving Timothee's earlier, you had been sat there lost in thought as you argued with yourself. It was true, the last thing you wanted was to hurt Timothee, but you were confused because it's like you couldn't understand your feelings. After all, a particular person still held a large part of it in his hands.

Timothee was there for you. Late night at the recording studio, whether through being there physically or even calling you or skyping you, he was always there. He was there with you when you bought all your albums from Target, and he was also the one who insisted you find another target that hasn't sold out your CDs so he could buy all of them too. Timothee was there with you when you had interviews that you almost felt like you could puke from nervousness backstage as he watched you talk about another celebrity you were getting linked to, and he was there with you to giggle about how stupid talk shows were. Timothee was always there. Whether it was dancing, kissing, or even fighting in the rain, he was always with you. He always wanted you around. Even when you rode the subway to get to a press conference of his or a promo for his upcoming movie, he always wanted you with him. He'd run with you in the rain, and he'd kiss away the sadness when you didn't want to speak with him. He was there with you when you get the sudden urge to buy all the popsicles from the nearest whole foods, and he was there with you when you got sick with the flu, which he also got from you. You'd spend afternoons walking around a far-off hill as you two put flowers in your hair despite knowing that you two probably had your busy schedules. Nothing mattered when you were with Timothee. Nothing mattered except each other. A part of you felt hurt that these memories you had kept of you and Tom were slowly being replaced by everything Timothee, but a large part of you also knew that the person you have now had no doubt that you couldn't ignore your feelings. You couldn't have to take Timothee out of your life.

Making up your mind, you got up, got dressed, and left for where you were sure you would find Tom.

He was in the middle of filming a new movie, but the second he saw you, he immediately asked to stop filming, a familiar, loving face plastered on as he walked over to you before being stopped by the director. They looked to be having a bit of a disagreement before he pointed you out, and the director looked at you in realization, patting him on the back and allowing him to jog over to you.

"Hey." You paused, your hand grasping your arm, and Tom took notice right away.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls you to sit by the curb as you two sat side by side, "You only do that when you're having a hard time saying something."

You gave him a look, "Well… I came here to ask you if it was alright if I try things out with Timothee."

He looked taken aback, "Oh, well, honestly, I thought you came by to sort things out between us…." He took notice of the way you looked down in guilt, "I don't think you could do anything with another guy that wouldn't upset me… but I don't really get that prerogative anymore, Y/N." He sighed, wrapping an arm around you to comfort you, "The fact is, you're trying to grow into who you've always wanted to be, and I'm trying to do that too for the sake of us and what we could be. If that means that you need or want to date someone again, I'll fully support you, but the most important thing is, does he make you happy?"

You sighed, looking out onto the filming lot, and nodded slowly, not noticing the slight upset look on Tom's face, "I catch myself sometimes smiling to myself when I think of him… But it's like I can't do anything because I don't want to let go of what we had."

Tom took a gulp, deciding that what was important right now was you, more than what he wanted, "What we had and what we were isn't important anymore Y/N. I'm working towards what we could become. What we had was co-dependency and a constant need to be in each other's presence to prove that what we had was perfect. I want us to find each other again in the future and know that no matter how far apart we are, if hopefully, we get together again, there is nobody in this world we'll love more… and that's what I'm encouraging you to do. I want to grow with you and grow for each other, and if that means you dating other people to understand yourself more, then I support you."

You looked at Tom for a second before hugging him and pecking him on the cheek, "I really needed that, Tom. Thank you."

He hugged you tighter, "Anytime. I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

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

You gripped your seat in the car in pure nerves. You were on your way to the Oscars with your assistant constantly telling you about your performance and what not to mess up and things to remember, especially about reporters who wanted an interview with you. To say you were all nerves today was an understatement. You hadn't spoken to Timothee ever since you told him you needed time to think, so today would be the first time you would ever come face to face with him. You thought long and hard about everything between the two of you. Still, you think you're finally ready to actually put some time and effort into this… and if that meant doing things that would significantly make Timothee happy, then you'd do it.

Your assistant watched a live feed from the Oscars as she gave you updates on how Armie was on the carpet. Saoirse was on the carpet, talking about how she hoped to make a movie with you and various other stars. You were a few minutes away from the carpet when she spoke up again.

"Timothee has just arrived." then she looked at her phone and back at you, doing a double-take as you gave her a sheepish smile, all she could do was smile approvingly at you before going back to giving you live updates.

A few minutes later, and your heart didn't feel like it was going to slow down anytime soon as your assistant gave you a pep talk, "Y/N. You are gonna rock that carpet, you'll turn heads, and most importantly, you're gonna be the talk of the night. There is nothing that could go wrong tonight. Just take deep breaths and don't trip."

Luckily you were still coherent enough to understand what she said as you took deep breaths to calm your nerves.

"Alright, three… two… one." The door flew open as one of the large men in suits grabbed your hand and helped you out. Your dress was not providing you much flexibility to move, and for almost 15 seconds, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion as everyone was quiet. You found Timothee busy with an interview as the crowd looked from you to him, the topic on everyone's minds for the past few months. As if this were the only proof they needed, they held their cameras in their hands as they snapped pictures of you and a commotion started as they started asking for Timothee.

You think you gave them a quick, charming grin as you told them he was in an interview before walking towards the interviewer and Timothee. She was the first to notice while Timothee talked about how his mom stood him up as his Oscars date, something you arranged a week earlier and something Timothee's mom was more than happy to comply to.

The interviewer looks ecstatic as the only one and the first one on this carpet to get whatever the scoop was here, as she wasted no time when you slowly approached them, "Timothee! You said you were stood up, but you never told us that your backup would be late!"

Timothee shot her a confused look before he felt your arm slowly snake around his arm, "Sorry I'm late." You quickly whispered to him.

His face looked shocked. Almost as if a reflex, he almost pulled away from you before getting a good look at what you were wearing. His jaw looked like it would drop to the floor as he looked utterly awestruck.

The interviewer giggled nervously, already knowing her interview time was slowly coming to an end without any payoff to the two of you, "Timothee, you look to be speechless at Y/N's dress tonight." She looked at you hopefully, "Could everyone here assume this is date night?"

You smiled shyly at the lady before giving her a tiny curt nod, "I know it's a bit cliche to match outfits, but when I saw that Timothee was going to wear a harness, I just couldn't let him take all the attention for tonight, so I apologize, but I've kept this secret from him too just to make sure he doesn't do anything to take the spotlight, that's why he looks like he's just had a heart attack." you giggled.

He gave a quick, playful tilted look to you before blinking multiple times, "In my defense, I didn't even know that this was a harness... They told me this was a bib."

"Bib or not, you two look like the sexiest couple on the carpet, and I just so happen to be the luckiest interviewer tonight." The interviewer looked ecstatic as can be as she jumps up, more energetic to interview the two of you, "And well, Y/N, one look at you, and it's hard to believe anyone would still have the ability to speak. You look gorgeous." She winked at the camera, "But I can't help but notice you just confirmed this is date night… Is it safe to assume what everyone has been wondering for the past few months? That you two are dating?"

Somehow, Timothee finally snaps out of it and looks at you, a questioning look before you leaned over and spoke into the mic, "Yeah. We're together. We have been for a while now." You smiled sheepishly as you saw Timothee's face glow as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "I apologize for keeping quiet for so long, but we think it's the right time to go public now that we've decided to take things to a more serious level."

The interviewer waves a hand in the air, "As long as you two let us in on the secret, there's no problem there." She faced the camera, "You heard it here first, folks. Hollywood's newest and hottest up and coming power couple. From both Y/N and Timothee themselves, now going public with their relationship."

As you two walked away from the interviewer for more pictures, Timothee embraced you, uncaring of the cameras flashing in your faces, "Are you serious?"

You nodded slowly, "I'm ready to be with you completely, Timothee. I'm sorry I took so long."

He shook his head like a puppy, "As long as you're here with me now, Y/N, I don't care."

He pulled away at the sound of your name and his in the same sentence as the photographers asked for your attention. He quickly kisses you on the cheek as you shut your eyes and grinned, cameras going off and commotion started up at you two, the young hot couple everyone had wanted more details on.

Timothee clutched your waist tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, this would all go back to how everything was before.

Before entering the venue, he pulled you to the side, "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to force yourself."

You shook your head, guiding his head to yours, "I think I'm in love with you too, Timothee. I'm all in with you." And then you kissed him.

#Timothee Chalamet #timmy #selena gomez #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee x reader #bty #back to you #i finally updated #im so sorry i took so long #thank you for being so patient and always supporting my page #spidxysense

86 notes · View notes

cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Anything

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 10,418

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @gallickingun, @mirakumiruku, @wakaoujisenhime, @sunnieskies02, @hisoknen

Art in banner by me.

This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased.

That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for.

Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy.

Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink.

Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable.

Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever.

Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool.

Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know.

That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?

You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably.

Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything!

“Bakugou-!”

The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--

“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…”

“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.

“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?”

Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?”

“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?”

“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.”

“I bet I could guess.” “You’d fucking fail, moron-”

“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.

“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.”

“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it?

“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!”

Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare.

Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care.

Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up.

“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously.

“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed.

“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.”

“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him.

It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him.

There wasn’t anything else you could do.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face.

“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?”

B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported.

Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance.

With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left.

But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you?

Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you.

Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight.

This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff!

Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there?

Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!

Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt.

You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear.

“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.”

“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin.

“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?”

His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-”

“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.”

“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips.

“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.”

“What are… Are you going to kick me out?”

“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?”

“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.”

“Then what are you doing with my clothes?”

An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself.

“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.”

“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?”

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day.

“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.”

You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.”

“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.”

“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?”

“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…”

“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true.

But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you?

“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl.

“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.”

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?”

A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”

“Get on your knees.”

Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?”

“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you.

“All the way up on your knees.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing.

“What are you looking at, babe?”

Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?

“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.”

Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor.

Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared.

“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.”

Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue.

Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t!

You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it?

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.”

Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache.

Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this?

Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.”

The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work?

“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer.

Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat.

Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous.

You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.”

Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way.

“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel.

I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--

Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip.

You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick.

“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!”

“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?”

Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today?

It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it!

“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans.

“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?”

“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit.

“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips.

“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.”

The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred.

“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks.

“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips.

“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest.

“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.”

“N-no, it was just--”

“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!”

You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life.

“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?”

“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!”

“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it.”

At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!”

When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined.

“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!”

“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain.

“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could.

Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked.

“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--”

“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper.

“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.”

With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release.

Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other.

For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks.

Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?”

Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--”

“--Katsuki!”

His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.”

“Right. I… should I leave now?”

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.”

Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!”

Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute.

“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!”

For now…?

Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?”

“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.”

Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side.

“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?”

The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?

“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.”

“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick.

“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair.

“H-he told me I looked fine!”

“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.”

“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.”

“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.”

With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.”

“I will…”

“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone.

Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was.

In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again?

Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers.

Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.

Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you.

“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”

He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?

Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki?

Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party?

3K notes · View notes

lipstickstainedred · 3 years

Text

Champagne 2 🥂

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2098

Warnings: angst, DUB-CON/NON-CON (eventual), smut (eventual) NSFW (eventual), violence (eventual), kidnapping (eventual)

Champagne Masterlist

Previous Chapter

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

On your first day, under the Stark Industries employment contract, you ended up being late. What a great way to make a first impression, you thought. The bus commute was unusually crowded because some subway lines were down throughout the city. That wasn’t unusual but it had never made you late before. Having never been late to work a day in your life, you were nervous you’d get in trouble.

Fortunately for you, Phil was kind enough about the mistake over the phone. He just told you that you’d miss the tour of the facilities. He assured you not to worry, they’d have someone give you a quick tour after your check in with the HR department. Apparently the tour was mandatory due to some safety and security features in the building.

You had almost forgotten how extensive the security was at Stark Industries when you had come for the pitch. There were metal detectors and guards with large german shepherds, which you presumed to be some type of working dog. You even had to have your bags searched before you were granted access to the building.

Once you went through security you made your way to the elevator to head to the human resources floor. As you stepped up to the elevator and instantly saw a familiar face. Steve Rogers.

Your breath hitched upon seeing him casually leaned against the back wall of the elevator. His strong muscles clearly defined, in the button up shirt he was wearing. His stature was even more intimidating than you remembered. The super serum made him more than just strong, he looked absolutely massive. A stark comparison to your smaller frame.

You centered yourself as you entered the enclosed space and tried to keep your distance. Watching your feet, you tried not to make the mistake of tripping in your heels. You didn’t want to draw his attention to you, not like how you had when you tripped in the pitch meeting.

You were unsure why you felt so nervous around the first avenger. Perhaps your nerves made sense during your initial meeting as his eyes were on you then. Your nerves weren’t justified this time. He hadn’t even given you a glance, too entranced with the file full of papers he held in his hand.

All too quickly, the elevator began to fill with more people causing the distance you had purposefully placed between the Captain and you to dissipate. As more people entered the elevator you were forced to shift closer and closer to the large man that had you on edge.

Once the elevator was packed to the brim, oddly resembling what you’d imagine a can of sardines looked like, you were far too close to the super soldier. All of a sudden you felt claustrophobic. With Steve behind you, the wall to your right, and people surrounding your front and left side, you felt incredibly small.

The elevator doors closed and you felt an ounce of relief. At least no more people were going to cram into the already overstuffed elevator. The elevator started gliding upward toward it’s first destination and you sighed, the HR department was on the 6th floor. You hoped some of these people would get off on the next few floors. You did not enjoy being so crammed together.

As you approached the 1st floor you were disappointed when no one got off. Your disappointment slowly melted away and turned into something else as you smelt the musky cologne of the man behind you as he shifted his stance. His scent slowly drifted closer until you could sense his presence right behind you.

You froze. Completely stunned as you felt him draw closer to you. He didn’t stop his slight shifting and movement until his front was barely pressed up against your backside. He was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

The heat of his breath lingered on the back of your neck causing you to shudder involuntarily. Time stood still, you couldn’t focus on anything else. As his nose ghosted across the nape of your neck, you choked on the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You tried to lean forward to remove yourself from his engulfing presence, but for every millimeter you shifted forward he seemed to follow. Your meager attempts to shift away from him seemed to do nothing. You had nowhere to go.

The ding of the elevator snapped you out of your trance. The little number displayed at the top of the doors said 5 but you couldn’t bear to stay in there another minute. You would take the stairs the rest of the way.

You pushed through what remained of the crowd of people, eager to have personal space once more. Finding the stairway, you started the trek up the steps. Each step you took had you contemplating the events that just took place. The more you thought about it, the less it made sense.

What transpired in the elevator made you question your sanity. You must have imagined the warm feel of his breath against your neck. Captain America had been a bit too close to you, but the elevator was packed. Everyone was too close to each other. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his closeness was somehow deliberate.

You reached the 6th floor and walked down the hallway until you reached the front desk of the HR department. After announcing your name to the receptionist, she seemed to understand why you were there, having been informed by someone that you’d be arriving late.

“I’m sorry dear. All HR personnel just got called into a mandatory meeting with the higher ups.” She chirped at you.

“Will I have to wait long?” you asked.

You were already late and didn’t want to leave your boss without his assistant for half of the day. You couldn’t lose this job, not when you fought tooth and nail to get it.

“I’m not sure. I can get you started on some of the paperwork but you have to go through the official tour to go over security details before you can start.” She sympathetically told you. You sighed in defeat before grabbing the paperwork she offered you.

After a while, you heard boisterous laughter and chatter down the hallway as you sat by the entrance of the office and waited. Eventually the noise stopped as footsteps made their way toward you. You didn’t bother looking up, too tired of waiting to care.

“How are you doing today, Lin?” the man asked as he popped his head in the door beside you.

“Ehhh Mondays.” The HR receptionist teased back. Your eyes slowly slid up the figure beside you as you realized the man was wearing the same outfit as Steve in the elevator.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Marketing?” Steve directed at you, his arms crossed over his chest. You weren’t sure if he was being condescending or not, but the way his cool blue eyes stared down at you sure made you feel like he was.

“Uh.. yeah. I got caught up on the bus this morning and now I’m waiting for someone to give me a tour.” You stumbled a bit through your words, your nerves again getting the best of you.

Back in school, you had learned about the first avenger. You had always loved history and learning about Captain America was no different. Reading about Steve Rogers’ life was an interesting chapter in your history book. How he overcame hardships had always been inspiring to you. Especially since you had grown up in less than desirable circumstances.

The Avenger was also commonly featured in the media. Like all of the Avengers, Captain America was shown saving the world countless times. Perhaps all of your nerves were simply because he was famous, a hero.

That was a logical explanation for your discomfort around him. You had never met anyone famous before, you tried to justify the way your stomach turned whenever you were close to him. You were just nervous.

He glanced down at his watch before directing his eyes back down at you.

“I have some time. I’m more than willing to give you a tour…” He slowed the end of his statement in search of your name.

As your eyes scanned his face, you had a feeling he already knew your name, but wanted you to give it to him. You mumbled your name to him, the same unease falling over you.

“Well, Y/N, What do you say?” He asked.

“I don’t want to be a bother. I’m sure Captain America has much more important things to do than give me a tour of the facilities.” You rationalized.

You hated the way your voice sounded so weak speaking to him. What you said was true, but you also felt unsure of being around him, especially after the elevator incident. If you could even call it an incident. You were still trying to wrap your head around whether you had imagined the whole thing.

“Please, Call me Steve.” He insisted.

“Steve.” You tasted the name on your tongue, a slight shiver coming over you as you saw the way his face changed when you said it. You weren’t sure what flickered across his face but the pit in your stomach only grew.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you around.” He chuckled, outstretching his hand toward you. The use of the nickname had the hairs on the back of your neck prick up.

You were so confused. His smile seemed genuine but your gut had you reeling every time you were around him. You had to get over whatever was causing your nerves. You were working in the same building as this man, you’d have to be around him occasionally.

With a sigh you took his hand and let him help you from your seat. His eyes beamed with what looked like pride and another emotion you couldn’t quite place as your hand touched his. Your soft hand felt small in comparison to his large calloused one.

He casually walked you through the hallways and offices, telling you about anything or anyone of importance. He pointed out all the security features that you had to be aware of, even showing you how to swipe your access card.

He would make the occasional joke and you’d laugh at his corny and playful humor. Only a few times did he ever make physical contact, his hand on the small of your back to lead you one way or another. Occasionally his hand would fall on your arm as he told a joke, but it didn’t bother you. It was casual and didn’t feel forced.

It felt like the heavy fog of dread had been lifted. Despite the overall discomfort you had with your previous interactions with Steve, this one was quite pleasant. Dare you say, amiable. You still tensed a bit when he would touch you, but there didn’t seem to be any malice or ill-intent in his contact. You just chalked it up to not being used to physical contact.

He even gave you the VIP tour, showing you the upstairs levels that only the avengers had access to. It seemed the more time you spent on the tour with Steve, the more of your guard you let down.

As the tour came to an end, you felt the tiny bubbles of anxiety and doubt melt away.

He dropped you off on level 8, the marketing department, your new work home for the foreseeable future. Steve wished you a good first day as he left.

As soon as you arrived at your desk, your boss barked his usual coffee order at you, even though you already memorized it. While you made the coffee you got to thinking about the Avenger that had been plaguing your thoughts since you first met him.

With a slight chuckle, you sighed to yourself. It must have just been your nerves and imagination playing tricks on you in the elevator. You had no reason to be afraid of him, he had never actually said or done anything wrong to you. The tiny glances and touches that had your stomach turning, were probably all in your head.

You were just nervous because he was famous, you convinced yourself. He was the man frozen in time. A real life story from your history book. He had saved the world time and time again and asked for nothing in return. He was a hero, after all.

shout outs to the following people who either helped me edit or helped me work through ideas for this series.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor @plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms @stargazingfangirl18 @christowhore

~Taglist

@basementwiveswritingchallenge @blithecapricorn @marvelfansworld @violetmoon74 @eralen

@ashpeace888 @stargazingfangirl18

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america #dubcon/noncon #dark fic #basementwife

124 notes · View notes

lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

#creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #brain thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #reader insert #no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out #Crossposted #as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read #other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3 #Ao3 has priority #A cure for insomnia

60 notes · View notes

snowstark · 3 years

Text

— you’re my world. —

for @truckloadoffrogs | LINK TO AO3

for @buckybarnesbingo | Y2 - Kink: Wall Pinning

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

“Stop. Flirting. With my sister.”

“Sam, she’s a grown woman!”

Sam growled. He actually growled, what the fuck. “She’s still my sister.”

Bucky snorted. “Alright, fine, Christ. Sorry.” He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’re cool now, right? Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sam eyed him for a few moments, then nodded. His shoulders drooped, like they had lost all the pent-up tension, and he reached out to clap Bucky on the back, hesitating for just a second before going for it. “Yeah, we’re… yeah, we’re cool.” His jaw flexed and he looked away for a split second, like he had more to say, but he didn’t; he just walked off, giving Bucky another pat before ducking into the boat.

Bucky stared after him, sucking the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

Sam was weird.

Sam pissed him off. From the moment he’d refused to move his seat up in the car, he’d burned right through Bucky’s patience like a hot flame and gotten right on his nerves. Had toasted them to crumbs, in fact. He’d yapped on about that shit about Gandalf and the big three—as if Bucky wouldn’t have read the goddamn Hobbit! And now he was here, being all domestic about his boat, and Bucky was willingly helping him.

Sam was so fucking weird.

But… he still liked him.

He was… they were… it was complicated.

__________

“Hi, Sarah.” Bucky smiled and waved, hearing the waves slosh behind him—nice, he liked that; reminded him of when he and Stevie would go on walks by the bay—and she smiled, waving back. Bucky grinned, and she ducked into the house. She was real pretty. She was. He liked her.

Sarah was Steve’s ma’s name. That was kind of weird, he had to admit. But Bucky found that a lot of things were weird now. Like the internet. Mytube—no, youtube. Social media. Cellphones.

No wonder Steve had written things to discover in the book. It was there in his pocket now, too. It was small and old, but it felt like his whole damn world, because it had been Steve’s. All he had left of Steve were bits and pieces of objects that he could put together to find some sort of remembrance of him, so every part counted. A machine couldn’t run when it was missing a screw.

“So. Why did my sister just tell me you could stay the night again?” Sam plopped down next to him, and despite his words, Bucky could only see amusement on his face. “Oh, hold on, let me correct myself—why did my sister just say my handsome friend can stay the night?”

Bucky’s lips twitched before he could stop himself, and he had to cover his laugh with a cough at the mildly outraged look on his face. He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

“No.” Sam gave him a look, and Bucky tossed him an affronted one right back.

“That was rude.”

“No, I mean—” Sam huffed. “You are a charmer, okay? Whatever.”

Why did that make Bucky’s chest feel warm? Sam was so fucking weird.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be charming my sister.” Sam frowned at him.

Bucky gave him a mockingly sympathetic look. “Can’t help it. Charmers don’t choose who they charm.” He gave Sam a lopsided grin. “Just happens.”

“Okayyy. And now your ego is pissing me off.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an ego,” Bucky said defensively.

“Oh, baby, you do.” Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Please. Charmers always have an ego.” He gave Bucky a pat on the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary, Bucky thought, and strode off to break up the playful tussle his nephews had started with the shield.

Baby.

Sam called him baby.

Bucky let his left hand drift up to his shoulder, touching the spot Sam had clapped, just hard enough for him to really feel the ache. Shit, Sam was strong.

And weird.

Really, really fucking weird.

Baby.

Bucky shivered.

__________

See, Bucky’d thought it was a joke, had thought that Sam was joking when he’d said stop flirting with my sister. And that was why he’d kept doing it, because it was funny to rile Sam up, and that was what they did with each other, that was what Sam did to him.

So he didn’t quite understand why Sam was refusing to say a single word to him while they fiddled with the water pipes of the boat.

Or, well, he did understand, but he just— look, the situation was weird and complicated.

All he knew was that Bucky had flirted again with Sarah; she was a nice woman, her smile made him smile, and Sam was upset because he had spent the last couple of days telling Bucky not to. But the truth was, Bucky had thought it was a joke, even more so because he and Sarah had established—just by exchanging a very long look with each other, how strange was that?—that it wasn’t serious, that it was just them exchanging sweet manners, and he’d thought Sam was joking when he said stop.

Bucky had thought it was a joke, and now that he realized that it wasn’t, there was a familiar little ache in his heart, one that he didn’t like to discuss or delve into, one that he knew well because he constantly carried it around with him.

Guilt.

And the fact that Sam was giving him the cold shoulder was making it worse by the second.

“C’mon, Sam.” Bucky scowled to hide his hurt. “C’mon, jesus fuck. If I’d known you were gonna throw such a tantrum I wouldn’t have done it.”

No response, except for another flex of Sam’s jaw muscles.

“Christ,” Bucky muttered under his breath, chest tightening with frustration and anger and resentment and fear because shit, he didn’t have anyone else besides Sam now, he didn’t— he needed Sam, he wanted Sam, he— no.

No. That wasn’t the path he was going to go down. He’d done it with Stevie, he’d done it with— with a billion of others, and he didn’t need to be focusing on whatever this was right now, he needed to be making amends and saving the world—with Sam.

Sam.

It always circled back to Sam fucking Wilson, right there in the corner of his brain, never leaving him alone, always lingering, always reminding him that he was always— always— alone.

He wasn’t… Sam wasn’t his.

And he needed to stop hoping for something that he would never fucking get. Wasn’t this proof enough? Sam refusing to look at him, not speaking to him, turning his head away just when Bucky tried to make eye contact so he could show that he was sorry, because his words were never enough? Wasn’t it proof enough that he was reaching for something he would never be able to grasp in his hand?

Sam didn’t need him. Not the way Bucky needed him. Sam wouldn’t understand, so he would— he would need to leave him alone. Let him be. It’d be fine. He’d just go to his apartment again, he’d be fine on the floor, with the dog tags clinking as he woke up from yet another nightmare, the TV flashing bright enough to make him twitch in his sleep, the bare, cold room, cold like ice, cold like the soldier, cold like loneliness.

It was always cold without Sam, he realized.

That created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, his spit felt like acid, burning a hole into his tongue, and he couldn’t— this wasn’t—

“Okay,” he said, and his voice came out more hoarsely than he’d wanted it to. He cleared his throat, forcing the lump down, feeling it move down to his stomach, and he tried again. “Okay. I’ll just—I’ll let you be.”

Sam twitched, reaching for the wrench to fix the pipe, but… silence.

Bucky took a step back, and still… nothing. He was shocked by how hollow he felt inside.

And when Sam pulled out his phone, like he wasn’t even fucking there, the hollowness in his chest filled, filled with anger, with frustration, with— with—

“Okay,” he repeated, muscles tensing enough to hurt. “Okay, I’m gonna go to Sarah and see if she needs a hand in the kitchen.” He turned, grimacing at the jab—no, bait—he’d thrown, knowing it was fucking stupid, and jesus, Steve definitely hadn’t taken all the stupid with him because here he was, and before he knew what was happening, there was a whirl of movement in the corner of his eye as Sam shot up from his seat and slammed him into the side of the boat.

It rocked precariously; it had been strong enough to rock the whole boat, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and it went straight to Bucky’s dick, even more so when he realized that Sam hadn’t just shoved him, he was holding him there, with his arm across Bucky’s chest, hard enough to make him wheeze like the 106 year old man he was, and— and Bucky—

Bucky moaned.

Sam held him there, looking taken aback not only by the noise that had left Bucky’s mouth but by the entire situation, and his eyes dropped to the tent in Bucky’s pants. “You—” He broke off, staring.

Bucky’s face flushed hotly at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Shit. This— shit, he should’ve— he’d miscalculated, he shouldn’t have—

“You like this,” Sam breathed, and Bucky couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Sam—”

“No, no.” Sam pushed a finger onto his lips, making his heart skip a beat. “You like this. You like— you like me. You do. I can see it on your face, Buck.”

Bucky twitched and gritted out, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to,” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. “Jesus fuck, Bucky. Look me in the eye and tell me you like this. You like it when I hold you down? When I make you tell me how much you like it?”

“I— no, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam’s eyes flashed, stopping Bucky right in his tracks. “Don’t lie. You’ve done enough lying.” He stared at Bucky, eyes boring into his, and Bucky wet his lips nervously with his tongue, not missing the way Sam’s eyes flickered over the movement. “I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

Bucky stared back, breath hitching in his chest.

Sam tightened his hold. “Say it.”

Bucky groaned, his cock twitching. He couldn’t. He— that wasn’t— he was— Sam didn’t—

Sam… Sam wasn’t weird. He was hot.

He liked Sam.

The full extent of that realization hit him like a truck and he choked on his next breath. “Yes,” he gasped out, trembling, and Sam released him. He fell to the floor, breath still raspy and hitched in his chest.

Sam let him catch his breath, face expressionless, and then said, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In any other scenario, Bucky would’ve laughed at the potential that pun had, because holy fuck, his dick had never been so hard before. But right now, he was a cock-hungry tornado for one Mr. Sam Wilson, and Sam was going to fuck him into a new dimension, he already knew it.

“I—shit, Sam,” Bucky said intelligently, staring up at the man. Sam extended a hand and Bucky took it cautiously, letting him help him to his feet. “You still mad at me?”

Sam huffed and turned his head to the side, making Bucky’s heart sink a bit. There was a small pause between them, not necessarily awkward, just… there, and Bucky was ready to say something inevitably stupid when Sam beat him to it. “Nah. Nah, I’m not… I wasn’t mad.”

“Yeah, you were.” Bucky felt his lips twist into a bitter grimace, angry at himself. “Shouldn’ta done it. ‘s my fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam finally dragged his eyes back to him. “Not your fault you’re, well, you know.” He broke off awkwardly.

There was another silence between them and Bucky’s mind was beginning to go white with panic, because this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned this shit to go down, ever, and he stammered, “Um.”

“Um?” Sam stared back at him.

Bucky licked his lips again, and again, Sam’s gaze moved down to follow the movement. “Maybe we should—‘s too quiet. Maybe—”

“Maybe I like it quiet.”

“I—oh.” Bucky broke off, biting his lip.

Sam just stared, then broke into a wide grin that had Bucky both relaxing and tensing for whatever would come next. Then, just when Bucky was beginning to sweat through his shirt, Sam stepped closer, close enough to press him against the wall of the boat, and tilted his head when Bucky chewed at his lip nervously again. “Don’t do that,” he breathed, and Bucky obeyed instantly because Sam told him not to, “that’s mine to bite.”

That was the only warning he got before Sam pressed his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him soft and tender before Bucky let out a small moan. Almost as though the noise had jump-started something inside him, Sam growled, and the kiss quickly turned hard and wet and sloppy.

When they broke apart, Bucky’s chest was heaving, and he found himself following Sam without even realizing, only stopping when Sam laughed and pushed his hand against his chest, forcing his back to the wall again.

“You stay like that,” Sam told him, and Bucky was pleased to hear him sound a bit winded from the kiss. Good. He wasn’t the only one. “You stay where I put you.”

Bucky nodded eagerly, hard enough to give himself whiplash. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay,” he breathed.

“You stay,” Sam repeated, then pulled back from Bucky after one last lingering look to disappear, heading for the exit of the boat.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and for a millisecond, he wondered if Sam was leaving, if he’d seriously misread this situation, but there was no way that was the case, right? Sam had kissed him.

Bucky could still taste him.

Sam Wilson tasted like fucking candy.

He heard some rustling, and then a clink and a grunt, and he realized that Sam was locking the door down to the area of the boat they were in, and he swore under his breath.

Sam was serious, then.

Wetting his dry lips nervously, he let a hand fall down to the bulge in his pants, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock, letting out a deep, shaky breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

His eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip before releasing it, remembering that it wasn’t his to bite, it was Sam’s, and fuck, just the thought of that was so fucking heady that it made him dizzy.

“There.” Sam appeared, making Bucky jump. There was a glint in his eyes as he drew closer, then pulled Bucky’s hand away to pin it above his head without a moment of hesitation, the sheer demonstration of his strength going straight to Bucky’s cock, and he caged Bucky in his arms by planting his hands on the wall until everything, Bucky’s entire goddamn world, was full of one Sam goddamn Wilson. “Now we can get started.”

Read Part 2 Here!

#sambucky #tfatws #winterfalcon #sam/bucky #sam x bucky #buckybarnesbingo2021 #bucky barnes #sam wilson #my fics

109 notes · View notes

shadowwolfluna · 3 years

Text

The firefighter and the cop

Chapter 2: Un secret

(This part will follow a bit on Chicago PD Season 1 Episode 10: At Least It’s Justice)

Chapter 1

It has been a few months that I slowly adapt to my new life in Chicago, and I kinda enjoy my life there. Everyone in firehouse 51 has called me -thanks to Hermann- Swiss, and again I like it. We were called as there was a car collision, the boys and I arrive at the scene and assess the situation. I see Atwater reassuring an elderly woman, I am next to Severide and we approach the vehicle where there was another driver in there.

“Old lady plows her boat through an intersection, and she’s the only one without a scratch.” My colleague commented, I shook my head and went into work mode. I look at the guy.

“Hey, sit tight we’re going to get you out of there.” Kelly explains, as I carefully observe the victim. I notice that he seemed a bit panic maybe, shaking my head I stood next to Kelly as he uses the spreader to open the door, one of the firefighters force open the door and I help to pull it out. I notice the guy moving out, and my colleague tries to tell him to sit down, but he punches him. I try to use my right leg to make him fall, but it fails and he ran away. Kelly called out to stop him, and I wanted to chase him but I know he’ll be too far away. I turn back around and I ask my coworker if he is okay, I soon hear Atwater and Burgess asking us to open the trunk, I grab a crowbar and use all my force to open it.

I gasp and took a step back. “What the…” I mumble in surprise, Burgess approach me and lead me away from whatever I saw. “You okay? I saw that you tried to stop him.” I nod my head at Kim, still wrapping my head about seeing a torso in the trunk of a car.

I only thought this could only happen in movies, Kim left as Kelly approach me and ask the same thing. “I’m fine, just had a feeling this guy might be up to something.” I reply not looking in front of Kelly, as he nods his head. “Don’t worry, Voight and his team will stop him.” I nod my head, staring at the car crash that now has a police sign and turns into a crime scene investigation.

We arrive back at Firehouse 51, Leslie and Gabby approach me. “Hey Swiss, you okay?” I slowly felt a bit frustrated, I can understand they worrying but I just want to forget it. “I’m fine, but please tell the guys not to ask me again if I am fine. I certainly do not want to remember it.”

Leslie nods her head and changes the subject quickly, normally I would explode in anger but I know they were worried and I prefer to stay calm and try to explain the situation. I hear someone calling out my name, turning around I see Kelly along with Erin and I see Voight there as well. “Swiss, they found someone, intelligence wants you and me to identify him.” I nod my head, before I can ask if I can come alone Voight speak up. “You can come with me, Erin will bring Kelly to PD.” I let out a small ‘okay’. I went to the lockers and get myself to change into my normal clothes, a black long-sleeve shirt with a red fake leather jacket and dark blue jeans. I wear a small pendant and left Firehouse 51.

“They told me about what happened, you okay?” I mentally rolled my eyes at Voight question, we were in the car going to the Police department. “For the love of, I am fine. Hank, it’s just...I don’t know...scary...I only thought that this could only happen in movies.” I glance out the window, feeling a bit awkward about my mini outburst. “Has this never happened in Geneva?” I let a small chuckle. “No, the only time I remember where. Police officers would arrest drunk drivers, I think murderers as well, but the swiss media has always covered it some. Except, I wasn’t technically there at the scene. So, I don’t know what to say.” I explain, and I kinda felt a bit frustrated not to know how I should felt, I felt a bit afraid but the feeling I feel the most is frustration. I feel it because I think it’s due I could have stop this guy, he murdered and chop off a person. Instead, I let him get away.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stop this guy. I understand you feel frustrated. But I ask you not to go on your own and be a cop, your a firefighter remember that I am glad that you are safe.” Hank said not even with anger but worry and I felt it kinda pull my heart, for the few months Hank and I met each other occasionally, but we haven’t officiated if we are dating or not. There were a few moments, I did ask myself if we are dating.

“I won’t, besides I don’t want to worry you, Hank.” He nods his head with a gentle smile and kept driving. “So, they kept calling you Swiss, why’s that?” I chuckle, as Hank is curious about the nickname. “Blame Hermann, he thought that since I am from Switzerland, it would be fun to nickname me Swiss. I like it.” I explain to Hank the story, with a small grin thankful that we change the subject.

“By the way, um Hank do you wish we see each other tonight or tomorrow evening? I don’t have a shift tomorrow.” I ask him curiously, while a bit nervous. Of course, we see each other a few times, but it would be with his teammates, and I kinda hope that he would notice that I wanted to say ‘date’.

I bit my lip nervously and look away, I didn’t notice Hank looking at me with a small smile. “Of course, I know a good place we can go to quietly.”

I exhale and made a wide grin, and without thinking, I said out loud. “Then it’s a date…”

I almost turn pale when I realize what I said, and before I can say anything Hank lets out a chuckle and smile at me. “Yeah, it’s a date.” I lost words, and I look out the window feeling myself blushing bright red.

We arrive at the Police Department, I walk side with Hank and I see a woman with grey hair talking on the phone. She nods at Hank and glances at me. I show her a small smile, she reminds me of a good friend of mine. She would not care what others think and would speak her mind, even some of my old firehouse in Geneva would like or hate her. I miss her though.

I follow Hank knowing he wants me and Kelly to identify the killer.

We were in the glass room, where Gabby’s brother Dawson I think is interrogating the ‘killer’. “It’s not him, the guy is more muscular and a bit taller.” Kelly nods his head, agreeing with me. Erin walks in and starts talking, about the guy who is not the killer, I notice Kelly checking out Erin. I sent him a smirk, where he hid his chuckles not wanting two police officers to know what is funny.

“Mind for you two to take a look at a couple of mugshots?” We both nod our heads, I then decide to ask Erin for the bathroom and mouth to Kelly ‘ask her’.

After being in the bathroom for ten minutes, I walk out and see both Kelly and Erin talking, when they notice me, Erin brings us to a room where they showed us pictures of prisoners.

I stop and recognize the suspected killer from one of the photographs. When Erin asks us, I point to the picture. “That guy.”

“That’s the guy we pulled out of the car.” Kelly added agreeing with me, a girl explains about the killer. Both Kelly and I slowly leave as the other officers are leaving to find him, but I noticed something in Kelly’s hand. I chuckle and shook my head. “What?” He notices my grin. “Your gonna try to ask Erin out are you?” Kelly lets out a small chuckle. “Nope, just going to try and bring back her stuff.” I smirk, as we walk down the stairs and see the woman talking with the other officers, not in the mood. “Who’s that?” Kelly looks at who I am referring to, and smile. “That’s Sergeant Trudy Platt, she’s...nice.”

“Then I should meet her another time, she reminds me of my friend.” We were both out of the district as Kelly looks at me as if I was crazy. “Woah, wait a sec, you have a friend in Switzerland that acts like THE Trudy Platt?” I let out a small laugh, while Kelly looks at me as if I grew two heads. “Yep, you know everyone in my old firehouse either tolerates or not liking her, but she considers me as a very close friend.” I explain, Kelly laugh. We both went our separate ways, I walk back to my apartment, which I thankfully found. It is not far from Firehouse 51, and I got a good price from the landlord.

The guys helped me with the move, and I manage to get my late brother’s car to come here a black 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback. My brother loves cars and motorcycles, he sadly passed away, and in his will, he gifts me his car. Even mentioning not to change anything in the car. The only thing he changed was the radio, as he comments about having music. I miss him.

My apartment has two bedrooms, a converge living/kitchen/dining area, along with a bathroom. I live on the fourth floor, I arrive there and set my jacket on the coat rack. Heaving out a small sight, and check the time.

I sent Hank an SMS informing the date and time.

To: Hank

From: (Y/N)

I’m back home safe and sound, I’ll see you tomorrow around eight. I hope everything is okay, catch that guy.

Can’t wait for our date.

😉

(Y/N)

I set the phone down, and I went to the bathroom wanting to leave out all of today’s stress.

(Timeskip to tomorrow)

I decide to wear a black dress that is up to my knees and let my hair down. I wear my pendant, which is the shape of a small teardrop decorated with blue and red small crystals. I put on my red lipstick, I told the others that tonight I won’t join them at Molly’s. I hear my phone vibrate, and check a new message from Hank.

To: (Y/N)

From: Hank

I’ll pick you up at your place, will be there in ten minutes.

Hank

I smile, and check myself out in the mirror, nodding my head, I grab my red fake leather jacket and my small purse. And wore small black heel shoes. I grab my phone and keys, locking my door.

When I got out of the door, I see Hank leaning in his SUV, and I almost caught my breath, he was wearing a white sleeve button-up shirt, with black pants with a black leather jacket. I walk towards Hank, as he seems frozen for a minute. “You look…” I smile and said confidently. “Sexy, shall we?” He nods his head, as he opens the passenger side, I slide in and thanking Hank.

We arrive on the other side of town, finding an interesting restaurant that looks a bit expensive. Feeling a bit self-conscious, I look at Hank. “Hank, how did you?” He smiles, and gets out of the car, and helps me out when he reaches the passenger side. “I know the owner, and he kinda owes me. Saved him and his family, and told me that I am welcome to come by.”

We approach the receptionist, she eyed me, and Hank and before she can comment I cut her off. “I’m sorry, but it’s not your place to say if I am too young to date someone like him.” Surprise, she then switches to a smile and apologizes. “I’m sorry, name?” She asks politely, Hank tells his name, and she brought us to a room that isn’t too crowded. “Enjoy your meal, and your date.” She said to us politely, I gave her a small smile, and she left. I glance at Hank, where he smiles at me. Looking into his eyes, it seems we were talking with each other.

“How do you like Chicago so far?” Hank asks, I smile at him. “I love it here, plus when I am off, I can drive off in my car and visit Papy and Mamie when I am off of shift.” I tell him, Hank chuckles. “Papy, Mamie, is it french or nicknames for your grandparents?” I nod my head.

“Yeah, while growing up, my mom’s family is partially swiss german, so my parents taught us that on my father’s side we say Papy and Mamie but for my mother’s side it would be Oma and Opa.”

A waiter came and smiles at Hank. “Evening Hank, I guess this is your date? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hank here saved my family. Hank whatever you order, it’s on the house. No arguments, I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.” I smile and find Hank attractive as he grins at the waiter/owner of the restaurant. Feeling my heart beat faster, he served us wine.

“Cheers, for our date...and hope we can continue more…” I said with a flirty smile, he smiles back. “Cheers. (Y/N), there is one thing you should promise.” I sip my wine and nod my head knowing where he is getting at.

“No one should know about this, Platt and Al have already figured it out. They won’t say anything, but I don’t want anyone to know we are dating. Do you promise?” I put my hand on top of his, and smile at him. “I promise Hank.” He smiles at me, and decide to give a small kiss on the back of my hand, sending me goosebumps and a shiver.

We start to order and enjoy our evening together, as I kept looking at Hank with a small smile…

(This isn’t the end of this chapter, I would continue, but like I mention this series would follow not all the episode, only a few. If you are interested in an episode I could write let me know.)

#hank voight #hank voight x reader #reader x hank voight #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago fire #kelly severide #erin lindsay #kim burgess #trudy platt

53 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip - Pt 12: Answers

Mina’s eyes finally lift from her notebook, and you are struck the beauty of the young woman - it is a beauty that would not be out of place in a fashion magazine or in a painting in some Japanese history museum. The young lawyer is wearing a short black dress with a plunging neckline, and you found your eyes wandering a little towards the delicious looking cleavage and the creamy, pale vanilla skin of her upper chest.

“I’ve already told you this, but boys aren’t my preference,” she says with a soft tone, “although I do make an exception here and there for… special men.”

“This is our proof.”

At your nod, Park Choa clicks her mouse, bringing up a picture on the large flat screen TV mounted to the meeting room wall. Seated around the large table in the middle of the room are yourself, Choa, Momo, Seolhyun, and Mina; sitting opposite your team are Tzuyu and Sana, the former with an unimpressed, arrogant look on her young features - the latter with a blank, emotionless look on hers.

On the screen is a picture of a battery pack - one of relatively common design, at least externally. But on the side is a small label; such a small thing, but something that would have a massive impact on the fate of two companies and the lives of many dozens of its employees.

“This device,” you continue, “was lent to me by one of your employees several months ago. As you will see, the label reads: Minatozaki Sana.”

A hush falls over the room at the revelation. There it was, clear as day - proof that Tzuyu’s company’s tech was stolen, and proof that Sana was complicit in the theft of said data from Seolhyun’s company.

“We have reason to believe that this device actually contained a hacking program that used the connection my cell phone had to our network to break into our servers and steal the intellectual property that you presented as your own yesterday.”

“That’s not proof at all,” Tzuyu retorts, “that could be any battery pack. There’s no proof whatsoever that it’s any sort of data theft device. For all I know, you bought that this morning and slapped a label with my employee’s name on it.”

“I figured you’d say that,” you answer, and you nod once more to Choa, who switches the display to show a Skype window. On the screen is a young woman, her blue-green hair and circular rimmed glasses making her look a little like she stepped out of an anime or video game.

“This is our IT analyst, Yoo Jeongyeon,” you say, “and she has had some time to retrieve the device from my apartment and analyze its contents. Jeongyeon?”

“The battery pack has been modified to house a hacking device,” Jeongyeon begins, adjusting the large glasses on her nose, “it’s been programmed to hack into the network of any portable device it’s plugged into, before identifying, copying, and transmitting selected data from the host device’s network to a secure server.”

“Jeongyeon, was there any specific data on the device that indicates where the data was sent to?”

“Yes. Server records indicate it was sent to a secure server in Taiwan. I’ve contacted internet service providers both here and in Taiwan, and they have corroborated the transfer of data. The secure server is housed in a building that is owned by Chou Tzuyu’s company. This is all indisputable, unedited hard data that I can send to anyone who wants to see it.”

All eyes turn to Tzuyu, and it was obvious that the young woman was expending a significant amount of effort to remain composed in the face of her accusations.

“Thank you, Jeongyeon,” you say, and the aloof young woman on the screen nods before taking a swig of what appeared to be an energy drink and closing her connection.

“This is preposterous,” Tzuyu says, dismissing Jeongyeon’s statements with a wave of her hand, “and downright offensive. We don’t have to sit here and listen to your baseless accusations. We came here out of professional courtesy, but we don’t have to sit here and simply take this.”

The young woman rises from her chair, anger twisting her youthful features into a scowl.

“Let’s go, Sana,” she says, looking at the seated Japanese girl next to her, who thus far had been silent and wearing an expressionless mask.

“Before you go,” Seolhyun says, the anticipation of revenge palpable in her voice, “you should know that we are planning to sue the shit out of you for hacking a private server, intellectual property theft, and whatever else the fuck it takes to make you regret ever messing with me and my company.”

“Miss Miyoui, if you will,” you add, and at that Mina, who is also present, reaches into her folder and produces a thick stack of paper, which she slides across the table.

“We will see you in court,” Mina says, her tone as confident as ever, “and I will beat you.”

“You? You think you can beat a multi million dollar team of lawyers in court? You, alone?” Tzuyu says, the words almost a hiss.

“Yes, me,” Mina retorts, her face as serene and calm as ever, “I will wipe the floor with you and your company, no matter how many stuck up, expensive lawyers you throw at me. And when I’m done, your company won’t want anything to do with someone who did something as stupid as steal a rival’s tech. Not only will you never work in this industry again; I’ll also make sure you end up in jail.”

“Not to mention that public opinion will against your parent company very quickly,” Hirai Momo adds, “we’ll put our proof out into the public. Social media will take it from there, and not only will your division lose any sort of foothold you may have gained in this industry - your entire parent company will take a reputation hit it probably won’t ever recover from. You’d be making some powerful enemies.”

Tzuyu’s hands have balled into fists. She is furious now, the last remnants of her discipline struggling to retain her composure. Beside her, Sana has not moved an inch, her face still expressionless.

“There is a way out of this,” you begin, “a solution that will result in a favorable result for all parties involved.”

“Oh yeah?” Tzuyu retorts, “and what might that be?”

“We will buy out your division of your parent company. That includes your entire staff and intellectual property, including, of course, the intellectual property you stole from us. We then announce the acquisition of both your division and FNC Inc. at our presentation tomorrow.”

“If we buy your division, we promise not to divulge your little theft to the public,” Momo adds, “and we gain a new division of staff and an office here in Taiwan. You gain the privilege of, well, not going to jail for intellectual property theft.”

“That’s blackmail. You still haven’t proven that we did anything. You can’t force us to sell our division to you just because you’re accusing us of theft,” Tzuyu says, although the desperation in her tone betrays the cracks in her initially impenetrable armor of confidence.

“We’re giving you the opportunity to get out of this scott free,” you answer, “everyone in this room knows you stole the tech, and we have ironclad evidence to prove it. Your choice is simple. Either throw away your entire career and face possible jail time, or swallow your pride and join our company. Who knows, you might even like it.”

The young woman bites her lip, looking very much like a cornered animal. Her fists are still clenched, her brow furrowed as she contemplates her options.

“We’ll get back to you in two hours,” Tzuyu says, and without further word, she gathers her laptop and bag before storming out of the room. Beside her, Sana rises, her face still blank - but when you lock eyes with her for a split second, you notice that her eyes have an unbearable sadness about them that breaks your heart.

The Japanese girl walks slowly to the door and leaves the room; involuntarily, your hand rises as if to beckon her to stay. But then she is gone, leaving you staring at a closed door once again.

“We have those bitches!” Seolhyun exclaims as soon as Sana leaves, “They’d be stupid not to take that deal. I really wanted to make introduce the tech myself tomorrow… but I’m just happy they’re not getting away with what they did to us.”

“Me too,” Momo agrees, “speaking of which, we need to get some logistics ready for tomorrow - assuming they take the deal, of course. We’ll need to set up the presentation to introduce both FNC and Tzuyu’s division as our new acquisitions.”

“We’ll also need to take care of the legal paperwork,” Mina adds.

“Right. Momo, you take Choa and Seolhyun and work on the presentation. Mina and I will stay here and wait for Tzuyu’s decision. In the meantime we’ll work on the legal paperwork and have a contract ready for them to sign.”

“Roger that, boss,” Momo says with a smile and a mock salute, glancing at both you and Mina before adding, “you two have fun.”

You catch a hint of suggestiveness in your girlfriend’s smile and the weighted look in her eyes - but you don’t have time to question her as she takes Choa and Seolhyun and leaves the room.

You let a sigh out and lean back in your chair as the three girls exit the room. You weren’t enirely sure how Tzuyu would react to your claims, but you were thankful that it at least looked like she was going to consider your offer.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over and done with - the rest is up to Tzuyu now,” you say.

“Agreed,” Mina replies, her expression as calm and stoic as ever as she jots down some notes in her notebook, “that went as well as we could have hoped. There’s no way they reject that deal. They’ll accept it.”

“A lot of it will be thanks to you, Miss Miyoui. You scared them out of taking us to court.”

“It wasn’t scaring them. It was a promise. I would have beaten them, no matter what they threw at me.”

“I believe it.”

“And also,” she adds, “please. Just call me Mina.”

“Sorry, Miss- err, Mina. You’re not officially an employee of JYP, so I didn’t want to assume anything. And while we’re on that topic, I know you were hired to take care of the legal matters related to our acquisition of FNC, but I’m sure you could have a job with JYP if you wanted it.”

A slim smile appears on her lips, but Mina’s eyes don’t leave her notebook.

“Why, so I can join your little group of women that you fuck at will on a daily basis?”

You are taken aback slightly by Mina’s frank statement, although at the same time you weren’t surprised given her forthright nature.

“My relationships, personal or otherwise, with my colleagues are purely consensual.”

“I’m sure they are,” Mina replies, “and I didn’t say I have a problem with it.”

“I’ve already told you this, but boys aren’t my preference,” she says with a soft tone, “although I do make an exception here and there for… special men.”

“Is that so,” you answer. You smile slyly. You liked where this was going.

“Tzuyu says we have two hours. Better make the most of it.”

“And what did you have in mind, Mina?”

Mina rises from her chair, a slim smile on her perfectly shaped lips as she approaches your chair. With no further prompting or pretense, she reaches for your tie and with swift movements, she undoes the knot and slips the tie from around your neck.

You are wondering exactly what she has in mind when she folds the tie in half and presents it to you, as though she were giving you a gift.

“If you impress me, I’ll consider joining your company,” she says, “Tie me up. Strip me. Make me wet. And then, you can fuck me.”

You weren’t exactly a bondage enthusiast, having only indulged here and there with light experimentation in your younger days, but you weren’t one to turn down a gift when it was given to you, and certainly not a gift from a woman as beautiful as the one right in front of you.

You take your tie from Mina’s hands as you rise from your chair. Her eyes meet yours, and notice that her eyes are beginning to show signs of something other than businesslike indifference - there is a little bit of lust there, a little bit of need beginning to show beneath her prim, proper exterior.

You can’t resist anymore; you lean forward and bring your lips to hers. Your lips press hard against each other for only a moment, before Mina’s tongue slides against your mouth, and before you know it your tongues are duelling, pressing and swirling around each other. Her kiss is frantic, fierce, the complete opposite of her demure personality.

Mina breaks the kiss and you lock eyes with her for a moment before you are suddenly very aware of the tie in your left hand, and with a quickness and aggressiveness that surprises even you, you grasp the young woman by her slim shoulders and turn her around. Grasping her wrists, you bring them behind her back and begin to tie up her hands.

“You like being tied up, do you, Mina?”

“Mina?” she says to your surprise, “It’s Miss Miyoui to you,” she finishes. The smile on your lips widens.

“Do you like being tied up, Miss Miyoui?” you ask, finally finishing the double knot that is binding her hands together behind her back.

“Yes,” she answers, her tone a little breathier than usual.

You bring your hands to her shoulders, relishing the feel of her soft, blemishless skin - like perfect vanilla, smooth and pale. Mina’s head falls backward slightly, and you hear a soft breath of air escape her lips.

“Strip me.”

Your fingers reach the neckline of her thin, black dress, and you slowly draw the fabric down her shoulders.

“Do you like being undressed, Miss Miyoui?”

“Yes,” she answers, her tone now a soft gasp, desire building and threatening to break down the last vestiges of her demure exterior.

Finally, you draw the dress far enough down her shoulders until it is just barely covering her nipples - and with one last pull, you draw the flimsy dress down past her breasts, her soft, small mounds escaping the fabric with a small bounce.

Mina is squirming now, her arms still bound behind her back, her naked shoulders and small, perfect breasts now exposed. Your arms snake around her small frame, and you grasp both her breasts in your palms, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh in your hands. You smile as you feel her nipples hardening, her buds poking against your palms.

You capture both of her nipples with your index finger and thumb, and give the hardened buds a slight pinch.

Mina moans - the first outright sound of pleasure she has allowed to escape her mouth since you started.

“You’re mine now, Miss Miyoui,” you whisper softly into her ear.

You press forward on the young woman’s back, bending her forward until her upper body is pressed against the table. Wasting no further time, you grasp the hem of Mina’s dress and pull it up over her upraised ass, revealing more perfect, vanilla skin - and the absence of underwear. You take a moment to burn the image in your mind of the young woman bent over on the table, her hands bound behind her back, her naked save for her black dress bunched around her waist.

“No underwear, Miss Miyoui?”

“No,” she answers, pausing slightly before adding, “Eat me.”

You weren’t one to keep a woman waiting, and you drop to your knees and admire the soft, glistening flesh of Mina’s pussy for a split second before pressing your mouth to her lips and giving her a long, slow lick.

The moan that leaves Mina’s mouth tells you that she has finally cracked - gone is the demure, reserved young woman you knew from meetings and office presentations - the woman that you were currently tongue deep in was a new woman now. A wanton, lustful young thing.

Her moan encourages you, and you dive in the same way you did with the other women in your life, pressing the flat of your tongue against the lips of her pussy before dragging it up and down, stimulating her sensitive flesh with long, broad strokes. You bring a finger up to her crotch and, with your middle finger, search for and quickly find the hardened, erect bud of her clit.

The dual stimulation has turned Mina into a mewling, moaning mess, every vestige of her demure exterior now long gone - there was only pleasure now, emanating from your tongue and fingers and coursing throughout her young body. Her naked breasts are crushed against the table, and she rubs her chest on the cool wood of the table in some attempt to stimulate her nipples given her bound hands.

“Fuck! Fuck you’re so good at that,” she says, “now I know why Momo loves when you eat her out.”

You want to answer, want to tell her that wasn’t the only thing she liked about you, but you decide instead to redouble your efforts, driving your tongue as deep as you can inside her pussy and bringing your ring finger up to join your middle finger in stimulating her clit. Her juices are flowing freely now, and you gladly gather them on your tongue, the bittersweet taste of her body staining your mouth.

Your eyes are closed as you dive into her pussy, focusing all your attention on tonguing her pussy, but when you open them your eyes are drawn to the tightly clenched ring of her asshole, not even inches away from your eyes.

“My asshole,” Mina hisses, as though reading your thoughts, “my ass. Do it…”

You give Mina’s juicy, heavily leaking pussy one last lick, savoring the juices on your tongue one more time before raising your head slightly and angling your mouth to match Mina’s rear entrance. And with no further hesitation, you press forward with your mouth, your tongue reaching out and giving her clenched asshole a long, soft lick.

“Fuck!” Mina yelps at the first contact of your tongue and her most private of areas, “Yes! More!”

Your tongue almost moves of its own accord, and before you know it you are tonguing Miyoui Mina’s ass, her clenched muscle loosening slightly as she becomes used to the stimulation of her asshole. All the while, your fingers are playing with her clit, never stopping rubbing and swirling around her hard bud, the juices making her flesh slick and magnifying the pleasure emanating from her clit.

“Oh God!” Mina moans, “Oh god! Eat my ass! I’m gonna cum! Yes… right there…. Ohhh!”

Mina’s squirming, wriggling body suddenly goes taut as an orgasm wracks her young body. You continue to tongue her ass and finger her clit, albeit with a slightly slower pace, encouraging aftershocks of pleasure in her body without making her uncomfortable.

Miyoui Mina is a far cry from the ladylike, reserved lawyer she was a half hour ago - now she is a disheveled, half naked mess, bent over on the boardroom table, her juices leaking freely from her pussy and making her thighs glisten. Her face is pressed against the table, but she still finds the strength to make her next demand.

“Fuck me.”

They are words you have been waiting to hear, and you rise quickly, undoing your belt and zipper, finally freeing your fully erect shaft from your boxers. You grasp Mina’s bound wrists with your left hand and your shaft with your right, pressing the cockhead against her drenched lips, lubricating it with her pussy juices.

Mina lets out a soft gasp before she speaks with a lustful tone, “My pussy… is only for girls.”

It takes you only a split second to put two and two together. Then, adjusting your angle slightly as Mina lowers her hips to allow you better access, you press your cockhead against her tight, clenched asshole.

“...but… you can fuck my ass.”

You didn’t think there were any more arousing words in the English language, and you move your hips forward slightly, pressing your hard shaft against Mina’s ass, before you finally feel the tight ring of her anus begin to give way to you. You didn’t have too much experience with anal sex aside from your first time with Momo last week, but you were certainly eager to increase your knowledge.

Soon half of your shaft is now embedded within Mina’s ass, every square millimeter of penetration drawing a lustful moan from her lips. Your grip on her bound wrists tightens, and you pull backward slightly on your tie, pulilng her wrists and upper body back against your hips as you thrust forward - simultaneously, the thickest part of your shaft finally eases into Mina’s tight ass, and you have finally fully impaled the young woman’s asshole with your hard, thick cock.

“Fuck,” Mina says, the curse word escaping her lips in a long, drawn out hiss as her body adjusts to the new feeling of fullness. She had told you she usually slept with women, so this must have been a new or rare experience, although it occured to you given how much Momo enjoyed anal sex that it was likely not Mina’s first time.

“Enough,” Mina says, interrupting your reverie, “Fuck me already. Show me what a man can do. Fuck my ass until you fill it with cum.”

You want to say something, something that is bold or cocky, but you decide to answer her challenge the best way you know how - with action. And to that end you draw your shaft out of her body, and when only the cockhead remains, you thrust forward again, impaling the young lawyer’s asshole with the full thickness of your shaft. With Momo you took it slow, careful not to cause your girlfriend any pain or discomfort - but Mina didn’t seem to have any difficulty allowing you into her body, and so you quickly find yourself pumping in and out of her bent body with the same speed that you had when fucking another woman’s pussy.

A long, drawn-out string of moans begins to leave Mina’s mouth, accentuated at the end of every thrust into her asshole with a loud gasp as your hips meet the firm flesh of her asscheeks. Soon you are thrusting hard enough that your balls are slapping against her drenched pussy with a wet smack - Mina’s ass was much easier to fuck than Momo’s, which wasn’t surprising given Mina’s seeming comfort with anal sex.

“Oh God,” Mina says, her body rocked with each thrust on the table, “That feels so good! Your cock… your cock is so deep in me! So deep in my ass! Yes! Keep fucking me!”

You are slamming in and out her tight, hot asshole now, truly fucking the young lawyer with long, smooth strokes of your shaft, enjoying the sight of her body as it is bent over in front of you, the perfect skin of her shoulders and back flexing with effort as she absorbs each thrust.

You pull backward on your tie, pulling her bound wrists backward and lifting her upper body and shoulders slightly from the desk. Her breasts are freed from being crushed against the table, and you curse the fact that you are unable to watch as they bounce erotically with each thrust into their owner’s body. You content yourself with watching her full, round ass cheeks giggle as they are rocked with each slam of your hips into hers.

With your free hand you grasp her right butt cheek, squeezing the firm flesh, spreading it outward slightly to give you a better view of your shaft as it plunges in and out of Miyoui Mina’s tight ass. You realize that while she was comfortable with anal sex, the fact that she usually slept with women meant that she probably mainly penetrated by sex toys.

“You like… being filled with cock, instead of some toy?”

“Yes!” is Mina’s immediate reply, “A toy… a toy can’t fill me with cum.”

Her words are so erotic, so lusty, that you are momentarily taken aback by the vulgar, wanton young woman Mina has suddenly become. You decide to reciprocate, and ensure that you had fully broken her outer shell of propriety.

“You like being tied up and bent over a table while a man pounds this tight little ass of yours?”

“Fuck yes!”

You decide to take things into your own hands, so to speak, and you pull back with your left hand, pulling Mina’s upper body off the table completely until her body is almost upright - simultaneously you move your right hand around her torso and grasp her naked left breast, grabbing the entire mound with your palm and squeezing. You find yourself disappointed yet again that you weren’t able to taste her breasts earlier - but you content yourself with the fact that your new position could at least allow you to whisper directly into Mina’s ear.

“You like having your ass fucked, Miss Miyoui? You like being with a man?” you hiss.

“Yes! I love it… I’m so full.. So full with your cock. You… You’re gonna make me cum!”

“You’re such a proper little lady at work,” you hiss, pulling back even more on her bound wrists, driving her torso into an even more upright position as you tighten your grip on her breast, “but you’re not like that at all when your hands are tied and your ass is being fucked, are you?”

“No… I… I’m so close…”

“You’re not such a proper lady right now, are you, Miss Miyoui?”

“No… I… I….”

You fuck her a little harder, drawing startled little gasps from her pretty mouth. You were almost there, almost at the point of fully breaking her little facade…

“Then what are you, Miss Miyoui?”

“I’m your fucktoy! My ass is yours to fuck whenever you want!”

Mina’s reply is loud, and if you weren’t balls deep into her tight, clenching asshole then you might have been afraid that someone passing by outside would have heard. But at the moment you didn’t care - the CEO of your companies could have walked in the room and you wouldn’t have stopped fucking the young, quivering woman in your arms.

You are satisfied that you had finally broken through her demure, ladylike exterior and exposed her true nature. Now it was time to concentrate on pleasure.

“Good… I’m going to be fucking this ass quite a bit, Miss Miyoui. Do you like when I’m so deep in you?”

“Yes… I love it when I’m stretched out… Oh… Oh god. I… I’m gonna cum!”

Her slim, tight body would have been too much to handle during normal vanilla sex, but with her half clothed, arms tied behind her back as she is bent over a table, and with your shaft buried in her asshole as she is on the brink orgasm, it is far too much to handle. And it embarasses you a little bit, how quickly you have found yourself so close to orgasm yourself, but given the circumstances you weren’t exactly surprised.

“I… I’m gonna cum soon too, Miss Miyoui,” you admit, somewhat shamefully. Your shaft never stops pistoning in and out of her clenched ass, however, not that Mina minds as she nears the brink of orgasm.

“Then cum… cum with me! Fill my body with your cum... Cum inside my ass! Oh! I’m cumming!”

Mina does just that, the combination of your hand on her breast and the hard, thick flesh pistoning in and out her body driving her into an orgasm that leaves her trembling and spasming in your arms. You pull back on her bound wrists like it was some sort of leash, all in an attempt to drive yourself deeper into Mina’s willing, wanton body.

It is too much for you to handle, and you are struck with an orgasm that takes you completely by surprise - usually you knew when you were about to cum, knew when to expect that wonderful plateau of pleasure - but not this time. It is an orgasm that strikes you completely unprepared for it, and before you know it you are buried balls deep in Miyoui Mina’s body as you release stream after stream of thick, hot cum into her ass, both of your hot bodies trembling with pleasure.

You black out - nothing else exists except the pleasure that has overtaken your body. You feel the semen leaving your shaft, feel Mina’s asshole tightening around your cock, you are even aware of Mina’s long, sultry mid-orgasm moan that fills the room, but only barely - above all, there is the pleasure.

Slowly you both wind down from your mutual orgasms, and you are both left bent over the table, both breathing heavily. You gather your wits enough to slowly withdraw your softening shaft from Mina’s tight ass, savoring the feel of her body squeezing every inch of it as it exits her, leaving behind a mess of thick white semen that begins to flow slowly from her freshly fucked opening.

You grasp the young woman’s shoulders softly and turn her around so that she is facing you again, her hands still bound behind her back. You run your tongue over your lips as you notice her bound hands have thrust her chest forward, presenting her naked breasts, the firm mounds pushed up by the black dress bunched beneath her breasts.

You lean forward, bending slightly, and take her left breast in your mouth, savoring the feel of her sweat misted skin and the hard nub of her nipple on your tongue.

“Momo always said you were a boobs guy,” Mina says as she lets her head fall back, still happily stuck in that wonderful post-orgasm haze, enjoying the new sensation of your tongue on her breasts.

“I wanted to taste them, but I couldn’t with you turned around,” you say softly between licks. You bring your other hand up and squeeze her right breast, not wanting it to be left unattended.

“Maybe next time,” Mina says softly, “I won’t be turned around. Because maybe… it’ll be my pussy you’re fucking.”

—-

“We accept your offer.”

Tzuyu’s words come as a definite relief, even if you knew they were the only real choice the young woman had of avoiding the fallout of her decision to steal Seolhyun’s tech. There is an audible sigh of relief in the room, at least from the women on your side of the table. You note, however, that Sana was absent from the room.

“We will commence formal talks after this conference. I presume your lawyer here will preside over the legal aspects?”

“I will,” Mina confirms, and you relish the fact that her normally pale skin was still a little flushed from your recent exertions.

“I also demand that I and all my staff members receive complete immunity from prosecution.”

“Done,” you answer.

There is a look of defeat on Tzuyu’s face that almost - almost - makes you feel sorry for her. Despite he audaciousness if her plans, she was still just a young girl that was trying to make a name for herself in a competitive industry, even if her methods were suspect.

“And how did your parent company take this news?” Momo asks.

“Not well,” Tzuyu replies, “I don’t think I’ll be invited to the Christmas party this year.”

“We’ll ensure they don’t do anything to harm you or your staff, Tzuyu. And you can be assured that no one else in our company will be aware of what you did. You’ll have a fresh start with us at JYP,” Momo says, surprising you a little bit with her apparent compassion. Perhaps the older woman was feeling a little sympathetic towards the vulnerable girl in front of you.

“Good. They have a reputation of being rather… cutthroat. It’s how they did so well in other industries.”

“We can take them on,” Seolhyun boasts, “there are only two other companies I know of that could possibly threaten us in this industry. Unless it’s one of them, they won’t be a problem.”

“It is,” Tzuyu says with an ominous tone, “if they decide to, they can wreck JYP without lifting a finger.”

“Then who are they?” Choa asks. Tzuyu pauses for a moment as she prepares to reveal the identity of her parent company.

“SM.”

—-

In an empty meeting room elsewhere in he conference hall, Minatozaki Sana is having a hushed conversation on a cell phone.

“Everything is going according to plan. Tzuyu’s plan was foiled. The targets found the hacking device as planned and my name on the device implicated us, as expected.”

…

“No, they still believe I’m a part of her staff. Tzuyu isn’t suspicious of me. They purchased our division as part of our plea bargain, so I’m now once again part of JYP.”

…

“Yes. I will proceed as planned. You can tell Joy she can send me the stealth hacking program when it’s ready.”

…

“Yes, I understand. Good bye, Irene.”

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #pov smut #Smut #male reader #twice #twice mina #miyoui mina #mina

155 notes · View notes

hartigays · 4 years

Note

ooh if you’re still doing the fluff/angst prompts could you do 14 + harringrove? I love your writing and you could do something amazing with this 🖤

14. “Get your hands off of me!”

“harrington, what the hell are you doing?”

steve doesn’t answer, not bothering to look up. he’s focused intently on the row of dominos that he’s carefully setting up, his tongue poking out and his brow furrowed in concentration.

“voilà!” steve shouts, finally getting the last domino in place. he claps his hands and rubs them together in anticipation.

billy arches a brow, giving steve a bored look. but steve doesn’t pay him any mind, just tiptoes carefully over the dominos weaving around the living room of their apartment, kneeling down and counting backwards from three before setting them in motion.

it takes all of thirty seconds for the carefully constructed line to fall, but steve still looks at billy with a goofy smile, his eyebrows raised in question. as if to silently ask pretty cool, huh?

“oh, come on,” steve huffs at the unimpressed look billy levels him with. “that was at least kind of cool, admit it.”

“you spent three hours setting that up,” billy points out. “instead of taking out the trash. like i asked you to do earlier. three hours earlier, to be exact.”

it’s steve’s turn to roll his eyes. he spins on his heel and flops backward onto the couch. “whatever. time is arbitrary in quarantine.”

“don’t whatever me,” billy says with a sniff, examining his cuticles. “just clean it up before bed. i don’t want to come out here for water in the middle of the night and break my ass slipping on a fuckin’ domino.”

“fine, mom.” steve tosses a tennis ball in the air as he speaks, making faces at the ceiling like a child. “whatever you say.”

billy moves to lean over steve on the couch, flicking him on the forehead while flashing a toothy grin. “damn right.”

it’s been three weeks since the governor issued an official stay-at-home order. three weeks of binging netflix, playing video games, and scrolling through the same few social media apps over and over.

steve had grown antsy and stir-crazy by the end of week one, needing to find some new activity or another to occupy his mind and body to keep from going nuts.

billy, on the other hand, has kept himself busy with a stack of books about a mile high, and his at-home workout routines. steve’s also been eating better, given the amount of cooking billy’s been doing now that he’s home full time.

while steve bounces from one activity to another, restless and understimulated, billy seems to be transitioning easily into their new way of life, as he tends to do with most things.

steve is only a little bitter.

“how are you not bored out of your mind?” steve gripes. he tosses the tennis ball onto the armchair adjacent to the couch, already tired of it.

billy had moved into the kitchen, and he looks up from the cookbook he’d been flipping through. “i dunno. ‘s not so bad. i can sleep in now, cook dinner more. i even learned how to make paella recently.”

“the fuck is paella?” steve snorts, sitting up on his elbows to stare at billy over the back of the couch.

“it’s going to be dinner tonight,” billy says easily, shrugging. “it’s good, trust me.”

steve just shrugs, flopping back down and closing his eyes. he doesn’t care what billy puts in front of him - the less he has to cook, the better. it’s just not in his wheelhouse.

besides, billy is a natural cook. there hasn’t been anything he’s made that steve’s been unimpressed with. so he leaves billy to do his thing, pulling out his phone and scrolling through twitter, half-listening to the familiar sound of billy puttering around the kitchen.

steve spends a few hours going between napping and mindlessly scrolling through his phone. by the time he pushes himself off the couch with a yawn and a stretch, it’s already getting dark outside. he shuffles into the kitchen, following the delicious smells coming from within.

billy’s still cooking away, his brow furrowed in concentration. he’s stirring something on the stove, poring over the recipe in the cookbook before him. he looks incredibly in his element, moving about with ease, seamlessly transitioning from one task to the next.

steve doesn’t think it’s weird that he could watch billy do this all day. it’s always nice to see someone doing something they’re passionate about with such dedication. and if there’s a secret part of him that has an innate appreciation for billy in an apron, well.

sue him.

it’s not like finding billy attractive is anything new to steve. it’s the 21st century, steve tends not to dwell on those kinds of things. he doesn’t, however, feel the need to clue billy in to those particularly appreciative thoughts about him in his cooking attire.

they’re stuck in isolation together for the foreseeable future. there’s no sense in stirring up trouble or discomfort - they’ve got enough going on already. steve’s not-so-G-rated thoughts about billy and his apron aren’t between anyone but him and god himself.

he just admires from afar, trying to not indulge too often in his racy thoughts about his roommate, who also happens to be his long-time best friend.

it’s no secret, however, that those thoughts had been easier to ignore before, when they spent a large part of their days apart. billy would be at work or in class and steve could always be found guiding himself through his own busy schedule.

as university students, they’d had pretty chaotic lives before the world came to a grinding halt. they were both generally busy with their own lives, and steve had enough going on that he didn’t often have time to dwell on how his thoughts were increasingly crossing the line between friendship and something more.

and just because they’re now together 24/7, with all the time in the world for steve to confront the reality of his little predicament, it doesn’t mean steve is worried. not at all. not even a little bit.

steve has this silly idea that maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

“smells good in here,” steve comments. he leans up against the counter next to the stove, peering over billy to sneak a peek at what he’s working on.

billy pauses his stirring, scooping a small portion of what looks like rice onto his spoon and holding it up to steve’s lips. he lets billy pop the bite into his mouth, his eyes lighting up at the burst of flavor that spreads across his tongue. whatever it is, it’s delicious. steve licks his lips appreciatively.

“yum.”

billy just nods, looking pleased. “it’ll be ready in about ten minutes. hey, grab me a beer, will you?”

steve grabs two beers from the fridge, passing one off to billy and cracking the other one open for himself. he heads back into the living room, curling back up on the couch and scrolling through netflix.

by the time he manages to find a documentary that they haven’t seen before, billy’s walking into the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. his beer is stuffed in the crook of his elbow, and steve sits up to grab the plate from billy before he can spill beer all over the floor.

“what’d you pick out?” billy asks once they dig in, nodding at the television.

steve swallows a mouthful of food, giving a satisfied hum of approval. “some new nature documentary. i think it’s about whales or sharks or something like that.”

“sounds like a real fleshed-out choice,” billy snorts, but he doesn’t object to steve’s selection.

“hey, you’re the one who’s always complaining that we waste so much time scrolling through the same stuff every day,” steve points out. “i’m just saving us the trouble.”

billy just huffs out a laugh before taking a swig of his beer. “i never said not having to scroll for an hour was a bad thing.”

the lapse into silence as the show starts, watching with meager interest as the intro credits begin. it’s quiet until steve takes a particularly delicious bite of his food, practically moaning around his spoon.

“this is delicious, by the way,” steve says, glancing over at billy. “what’d you say this is called?”

billy’s giving him a strange look, one that has steve’s cheeks heating up and the tips of his ears turning pink.

“paella,” billy answers finally, clearing this throat and averting his eyes

steve stares at billy for a moment longer, opening his mouth to speak before realizing he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, letting it fall shut again.

there’s a weird tension hanging between them for the rest of the night. steve tries not to fixate on it, but it’s hard when he’d picked out the most boring documentary in the history of time itself.

billy doesn’t even meet his eyes when he says goodnight later, after they’ve watched a few episodes and cleaned up the kitchen. steve can’t help but wonder if maybe he said something wrong without realizing it, watching billy retreat to the safety of his bedroom.

steve tosses and turns for most of the night, plagued by incredibly weird and startlingly vivid dreams. dreams about monsters that lurk in the shadows and kids with superpowers and bad men in their secret labs. similar to the ones he had back in high school, back when his life was turned inside out and upside down. only these are brighter, more intense, somehow weirder than before.

there’s a gasp dying on steve’s lips when he bolts upright in bed, the image of a hyper-realistic demogorgon with a decaying human face that he’s uncomfortably sure was barb’s still burned into his mind. he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his stomach churning. his mouth is unbelievably dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of it.

steve pushes his sweat-matted hair from his forehead, climbing out of bed and padding into the kitchen. he gulps down two glasses of water, trying to will away the trembling of his hands.

it’s when he’s walking back to his room that he slips on something, crashing backward and busting his ass hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. steve’s tailbone collides with the ground first, followed by his elbows, and then his head.

steve groans, pushing himself up off the ground. he feels lightheaded and disoriented, the back of his head throbbing something awful. distantly, steve hears what sounds like a door opening, followed by footsteps.

the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up when someone crouches down beside him. steve can’t get his eyes to focus while he’s this dizzy and the room is this dark. he jumps nearly a foot in the air when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“get your hands off of me!” steve yelps, smacking the mystery hands away from him and scooting across the floor to put distance between him and the body hovering next to him.

“hey, hey, steve, calm down, it’s just me. it’s just billy.”

steve squints through the darkness, his heart hammering in his chest. he can finally make out the defining features of the person that is most definitely billy, crouching in front of him and looking at him with a mixture of pure bewilderment and what he’s pretty sure is worry.

groaning, steve rubs the back of his head with a grimace. “ow...”

“told you to clean the damn dominos up,” billy mutters, sitting back on his heels as he tilts steve’s head down, examining the damage. “did you hit it hard?”

steve just nods, wincing as he does. “yeah. hit my ass and elbows harder, though.”

billy huffs out a soft laugh, taking steve’s bicep and lifting his arm to inspect his elbow.

“i think you’ll live,” billy says after a few moments, letting steve’s arm drop. “the hell were you doing wandering around the house in the dark at three in the morning, anyway?”

“i was getting some water,” steve tells him, rubbing his elbow with a frown. “i was having really weird dreams. i feel dizzy, are you sure i don’t have a concussion?”

billy shifts closer, trying to move steve’s mass of hair enough to look more closely at the lump on the back of his head.

“well, you’re not bleeding. if you have a concussion, it’s mild,” billy says with a shrug. “but i think you’re in the clear. what kind of dreams were they?”

steve doesn’t say anything for a moment before giving a halfhearted shrug. “same dreams i always have. they were just, like....super vivid this time, you know?”

“might’ve been the shellfish in the paella,” billy muses, humming thoughtfully. “certain foods can give you more vivid dreams, almost like fever dreams. shellfish are a pretty common culprit.”

billy takes one last look at the back of steve’s head before grabbing his hand, tugging him up off the ground. steve’s head swims once he’s upright, and he tips forward, crashing directly into billy. billy’s arms go around him immediately, holding him steady.

“you okay?” billy asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

steve blinks rapidly, his brain slowly catching up to the position he’s currently in. he feels the tips of his ears get hot, disentangling himself from billy and backing away, putting several feet of distance between them.

“yeah, i - um. sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

steve averts his eyes, though billy’s stay trained on steve, that strange look from before back on his face. something shifts in his expression, billy giving him a thoughtful look.

“on second thought,” billy says finally, “you should crash in my room. so i can keep an eye on you. wouldn’t want you nursing a head injury alone, in case anything happens.”

“the hell do you mean, if anything happens?” steve questions, his hand flying up to the back of his head. he opens his mouth to ask another panicked question, but it closes quickly once he realizes what billy is offering. “wait, you mean you want me to stay with you? in your bed? like, together?”

“sure, if you want,” billy says, sounding casual while looking anything but. “you know, for safety.”

“for safety,” steve repeats slowly, swallowing thickly. “okay. okay, yeah. do you think i might need - um. mouth-to-mouth? for safety?”

steve’s heart is hammering in his chest before the question fully leaves his mouth. billy just stares at him for a long moment, before cracking a goofy grin, giving him a slightly disbelieving look. “steve, that is the corniest fucking thing you have ever said.”

“oh, shut up. i have a traumatic brain injury,” steve counters with an unimpressed sniff, trying to play it off like his heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. “sue me.”

“right, your horrific bump on the head,” billy nods, fighting a smile. “guess you should come over here and let me take another look. for safety, of course.”

“safety’s very important,” steve acknowledges as he crosses the room, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

steve stops short in front of billy, hesitating. billy closes the remaining distance, reaching up to gently feel the bump on the back of steve’s head, though his eyes never leave steve’s.

“that really is a nasty knot,” billy says offhandedly, a flicker of concern appearing in his eyes and disappearing just as quickly. “maybe some ice would help?”

“thought you were writing me a prescription for something else,” steve mumbles.

billy looks momentarily confused, before steve closes the distance and seals their lips together. billy yields almost instantaneously, his mouth opening to steve as if they’ve done this a million times before.

now that he’s face-to-face with it, steve isn’t sure how he was able to dance around it for so long. billy’s lips are soft and pliant beneath his, and he kisses steve languidly, like they have all the time in the world and he knows it. he has one hand curled into steve’s hair, the other splayed across his jaw. when billy nips at steve’s bottom lip, it sends sparks skittering down steve’s spine and goosebumps erupting across his skin.

all steve can see, smell, and taste is billy and he’s dizzy with it, unsteady on his feet. which could be attributed in part to steve’s little bump on the head, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind to worry about later. he sways a little, causing their mouths to break apart. billy takes steve’s hand keeping him steady.

“c’mon, let’s get you to bed,” billy says, his breathing a little ragged. “you can get the full hargrove treatment in the morning, when you’re not borderline concussed.”

“you’re the one who’s getting a medical degree,” steve protests, even as billy pulls him to his bedroom. “i was just following the doctor’s orders.”

“right, well. this doctor is ordering you to lay down and get some sleep,” billy counters. he helps steve climb into bed, scooting in next to him once steve has slid over to give him some room.

billy lets steve wrap himself around him like a koala without protest, only humming softly in approval.

“maybe quarantine’s not so bad,” steve muses after a few beats of silence, yawning.

“you’re just saying that because you get to kiss me every day now.”

“that so?” steve asks, chuckling softly. “guess that means i should get some sleep so i can be well-rested for a big day of kisses tomorrow.”

“go to sleep, harrington,” billy snorts, burying his face into steve’s neck.

“‘night billy.”

“sweet dreams, princess.”

#pardon my lack of knowledge on how to cook things #idk how to cook paella i just made some shit up bc lazy #here u go bby enjoy 💓💓💓#harringrove #stranger things #my fics #ask #anon

207 notes · View notes

shortythescreen · 4 years

Text

come over chapter 3: the party.

Warning(s): Dysfunctional family dynamics, Octavio’s parents being assholes, misuse of stim, kind of abrupt ending, fem reader, NSFT/18+.

Relationship(s): Octane/ Female Reader.

Author’s Notes: Last chapter you guys! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this. I’ve had so much fun writing come over and hope to write for Octane again soon <3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

The rest of your ride to Psamathe is smooth. You and Octavio sip at that Aguardiente but about a half an hour before you two are due to arrive, you make him put it away. He protests, trying to tell you that in order to deal with his parents, you were going to need to be at least kind of buzzed. You two stash the drink anyway, drinking water all the way over, and Octavio eyes you up in the silence that follows.

Octavio probably could’ve given you head right after you finished with him but you were insistent about not looking sex ruffled – which would be a lot harder to hide with your hair fucked up, and that dress you’re wearing.

This is technically a job for you. He bats the thought away, trying to tell himself you came out as a friend. As your ship lands, though, and you lug your giant camera tote he told you that you didn’t need to bring out of the ship…

It’s not discouraging. There’s nothing to be discouraged about.

Which is what Octavio tells himself as you two approach his childhood home.

You react like most people do to the sight of where he grew up: your jaw drops, your eyes widen, and you take the time to look the manor up and down. Ma always complained she’d wanted a bigger mansion. Considering she and Pa had only had him, that had never made a lot of sense to Octavio. Their room was empty most of the time, let alone all the other ones that he or the housekeepers didn’t occupy.

“Holy shit,” you mumble to him and he offers you the crook of his elbow. You turn your head to look at him and blanch. Octavio stares at you, foot beginning to tap impatiently. “What are you doing?”

“Offering you my arm. You’re my plus one. This is what rich people do, amiga,” he tells you. He distinctly leaves out the fact that he had etiquette training from the time he could walk until he was thirteen and purposefully jumped off the top of the stairs mid-lesson. His arm was broken, and he was in a sling which meant he didn’t have to go through which spoon was the right one again.

“I forget you’re a rich person,” you say.

“Makes one of us. Take the arm, mami, c’mon, let’s get this over with.”

You raise an eyebrow at him but slide your hand into the crook of his elbow anyway. You two stroll up to the way too big, double doors of the mansion and a large man Octavio doesn’t recognize opens one of them.

Inside the foyer, there’s a line of men in black suits, clearly some kind of security detail. Your heels click across the porcelain floors and when he chances a sideways glance at you, he sees that you’re unable to flush your face of the awe written across it – the vaulted ceilings and the crystal chandelier glittering in your eyes. You turn your head, looking up at the portrait of him, and ma, and pa, and he tugs your arm a little closer, trying to take your attention off of the grim looking little boy he didn’t see himself in.

He turns his gaze ahead and instantly his arms tense. Mami stands in the threshold of the ballroom, eyes stabbing through his.

Last he’d seen her, she’d had the beginnings of grays at her temples. Predictably, she’s dyed it back to its original brown, and stands with her back poised straight, hands folded in front of her. When you two are close enough, her pinkened lips pull upwards, into a smile that shows her teeth but doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Mijito,” she says, opening her arms. She wraps them around him, and they press their cheeks together in a brief kiss. “This is your photographer?”

“Si mami,” he murmurs, using the hand you don’t have captive to gesture your way. He tells Mami your name and how every piece of media that’s come out of Apex’s headquarters has been yours. “She’s incredible at what she does.”

“I should hope so. We expect nothing but the best,” says Mami.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Silva,” you say, offering your hand out. Mami’s smile doesn’t fade but if it didn’t reach her eyes before, it definitely doesn’t now, anger flaring in them.

“Ms. Silva, cariña,” croons Mami, and Octavio cringes away from the way her voices oozes, thickened by sweetness she doesn’t truly have. “I divorced from Octavio’s father a long time ago.”

“Oh, I-” you begin, probably going to apologize for information he hadn’t given you. Octavio doesn’t want you to do that. As a matter of fact, he kind of wants his mom to apologize for looking at you so coldly when she hadn’t publicized her and Pa’s divorce to begin with. Octavio jumps in, cutting you off.

“She didn’t know, ma, back off,” he bites. Ma’s blazing eyes turn on him and he glares back. Before she can say more, Octavio is hauling you into the ballroom.

“She can set up in the corner, near the bay windows!” Ma calls after him in Spanish and Octavio’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t feel like playing translator for someone who speaks English just fine tonight, but he has a feeling she’s going to rope him back in, make him play the dutiful son just for talking back. The bar’s already set up and kitchen staff are putting out a long buffet table of food. In the corner that Ma said you could set up in, there’s a long drape rolled out with Silva Pharms logo all over it – in bright, stim green.

“Oc,” you say, catching his attention as you two pull up to where you’ll be stationed for a majority of the evening. The hand on the inside of his elbow squeezes and he turns his head to look at you, at the little furrow between your brows, at your other hand moving around to squeeze his. “Hey, it’s okay. Some people don’t like to even think about being married to someone they divorced. I get that.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” mutters Octavio. “She was a lot meaner than she seemed.”

“Well, I didn’t notice. So, it’s fine,” you say. Your hand encompasses his and he watches your tote fall to the crook of your elbow instead of your shoulder. You don’t try to adjust it though, focused on him, and that makes his shoulder relax as much as it makes his pulse rapid. “It’s okay, Oc, seriously. We just got here. No one’s here yet. Help me set up and then we’ll grab some food before your parents’ guests arrive, okay?”

That… Sounds like a good plan. Octavio tries to shake the nervous energy from his limbs, remind himself that at least you’re here, but he can’t quite get rid of it. He feels like a dog backed into a corner by handlers with sticks but instead of beating him, none of them are moving.

To take his mind off it, he rapidly puts together your camera. You scold him several times, reminding him to be careful with your equipment.

“Octavio, you have to screw that in, not push it-”

“I knew that!”

“You did not!”

Octavio only cackles when you tell him the right way to set up your camera, but he does do it the way you tell him to. Once your camera is put together and placed on its little trifold, you and Octavio meander over to the buffet.

Whoever Ma hired to cater (because Ma always does all the organizing for these things; Pa just shows up) likes colorful dishes, bright blue and reds staring up at you two. There’s some leviathan meat in the corner that Octavio will definitely getting his hands on before the night is over, cooked medium rare with some kind of garlic and herb butter spread over it, the juice pooling in the plate beneath. More important than that though is finding the chicharron that Octavio knows is here.

It only takes him a minute to pull up the rind, with large, square knots of pork along it. He grins at you, coming closer, the meat recklessly flopping with every step.

“You gotta try this,” he says as you bend over the other edge, eyeballing what he’s pretty sure is some kind of cheesecake, placed just beneath the chocolate fountain. You twist around with an empty plate, hovering it just beneath the chicharron before it can drip onto the floor.

“You need a plate,” you reply and Octavio snickers. Despite your words, you lean in, biting the edge of one of the protruding cubes of pork. You sigh at the taste and Octavio grins, showing all his teeth. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, baby!”

You and Octavio eat before the guests arrive and as people begin to filter into the ballroom, you take your place at the corner where you’ll be taking pictures. Octavio isn’t too far away, pacing the big, empty space just beside the tarp with all the Silva Pharm logos. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until someone he doesn’t recognize comes up to him, laughing about how Octane can never sit still, huh?

Octavio smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he agrees. That’s one of the things he’s always hated about these stupid fundraisers or events or whatever the hell this thing is. He usually doesn’t know half the people there, or even a quarter, and they all walk up to him like they know him. Even more so now that he’s made Octane.

“Octavio,” someone says, and he glances up to see his Ma fast approaching. She doesn’t look angry, though. Maybe a little annoyed but Octavio has learned that she always looks like that, one side of her mouth pulled up a little further than the other, brows low on her face. At least, she always looks that way around him. “Come and say hello, the photographer isn’t going anywhere.”

Octavio sputters, though Ma places her hand on the inside of his elbow and without thinking, Octavio bends his arm to meet her. Octavio doesn’t think a lot anyway, but it feels like a low blow to use you to make his brain work a little less. He glances back at you, standing with your back straight, waiting for someone to come get their photo op. You smile at him. He smirks back.

It makes sense that mostly old people invest in a pharmaceutical company but that doesn’t mean Octavio doesn’t find them totally, completely boring. They talk about things like their most recent vacations, or something silly their butlers did, and Ma laughs along, placing a hand over her chest as though these stories are the funniest things she’s ever heard.

Maybe they are. Octavio wouldn’t know. He stopped finding the staff’s misfortune funny around the time Señora Luz told Pa she was pregnant, and she suddenly didn’t have a job anymore. He wasn’t allowed to open the door for her either.

Ajay’s parents approach and Mami greets them warmly, pulling them into big hugs and giving them kisses on each cheek. On principle alone, Octavio is a little less familiar, waving their way, and they all laugh about how they’d never known him to be shy.

They didn’t know the first thing about him anyway.

“Oh, but where is his blazer?” Ajay’s mom asks and Octavio grunts. Ma turns her cold eyes back to him, calculatingly sizing him up. She must not have noticed when he walked in that he wasn’t wearing one. He’d almost gotten away with it, too.

“It’s so hot in here, don’t you think?” Ma smoothly covers and Octavio taps his fingers soundlessly against his thigh. He’ll hear about it later.

Octavio finds himself getting restless. His fingers itch and his toes curl in his overpriced shoes. He wants to run. Maybe even turn and jump out the bay window. Or go out back and see if Ma still has horses on this property or if she finally got sick of the memories of Pa in these halls.

He glances your way, finding you hunched over your camera. The couple at the other end of it smiles and you snap three shots, back to back. He wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, but you’d know if the angles were different, or if one had flash and another didn’t. When they walk off, you stand upright and catch his eye.

Your wink sends a powerful burst of something through his chest. It makes his blood pump faster but also makes his shoulders relax and fuck. He’s so, totally fucked. You’re the one thing keeping him from doing something stupid. Which means he’s fucked.

“Mijo,” he hears, though this time it isn’t Ma, and Octavio curses to himself. Yeah. He’s fucked.

He turns, not bothering to paste on a smile. If nothing else, amongst themselves, the Silva’s aren’t fake. Ma is busy with the Ches and a group of people that like to laugh at other people’s expense. Octavio hasn’t seen his Pa in awhile but he looks just like Octavio remembers – his thick eyebrows are trimmed, arched like he’d spent way too much time having someone do them, his dark hair graying at the edges. Unlike Ma, he doesn’t dye it though, claiming the silver makes him look more refined, that his most recent wife likes him gray. He’s surprised she’s not clinging to his arm, in something way too tight and tiny that would piss Ma off if she saw it.

“Where’s Gloria?” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. Gloria’s young, grossly so, closer to Octavio in age than Pa. She’s nice, though, and last Octavio heard, she and Pa’s marriage was going swimmingly.

“Who knows?” Pa asks back and Octavio subtly rolls his eyes. Leave it to Pa not to know where his wife is. He doesn’t outright berate her though, which means they must still be together, so she’s somewhere around here. Octavio should say hi. He’d be happier to see her than Pa, or Ma. “You look nice tonight, hijo. Thank you for bringing a photographer – you know your Mama won’t let anyone I hire work.”

Octavio does not know that and doesn’t really care to, but he nods along anyway. His eyes keep flickering over to you, eager to go make stupid faces in the background of your pictures or tickle your sides so that you lose focus.

“Ah, I see,” Papa says. Irritated, Octavio turns his gaze back to him.

“You see what?” He asks.

“You’re fucking her?” Papa asks and Octavio feels his shoulders jump up to his ears. His whole body braces, like he’s about to jam stim into his thigh, like he’s about to take off in the middle of a firefight.

“What the fuck, papa?” He hisses back, not even realizing they’ve switched to Spanish until a second after he’s speaking it. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

“C’mon, son, you wouldn’t be the first one to fuck the help,” sniffs Papa, and the way he says help makes Octavio bristle all over. “It’s okay. She’s cute!”

“That’s none of your business,” seethes Octavio, practically baring his teeth. “Don’t compare her to Luz. This is different.”

“Luz? I wasn’t talking about Luz,” says Papa. Then, his eyes narrow, and he looks a little bit more hostile, stepping into Octavio’s space. “What do you mean different? Octavio, did you get her pregnant? You know we can’t afford that kind of a scandal-”

“Oc!” You suddenly chime from his right and he and Papa both jump. He spins to face you and you look at him, bug eyed, hands risen like you’re trying to declare a cease fire. “-Tane. Octane. Buddy. Some people are asking you for a photo-op… Am I, uh, interrupting something?”

“No, no, not at all, sweetheart,” Papa says, moving forward to introduce himself. Somehow, it’s worse than Mami not doing it at all, especially with the sweet smile you give him as you shake hands. “Go, Octane. The people want you. Here, take a vial with you, get into character.”

Pa hands him a vial of stim and Octavio’s fingers close tightly around it, knuckles white with frustration. You jam your hand into the crook of Octavio’s arm and drag him away. He’s still fuming, hot all over with his rage, and you move a little closer to him as you guys stroll across the ballroom.

“You okay? That looked kind of heated,” you say, and Octavio looks down at you, doing his best not to fixate all that fury on you.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s-it’s fine- did someone really want a photo-op or did you just sneak me out?” He asks, realizing that you must’ve seen that something was going on between he and his papa. The sheepish smile that tugs your lips confirms it. Octavio laughs, trying not to bend at the waist so he can keep walking. “Bad girl.”

“Sorry,” you say, but Octavio kind of wants to kiss you for it, “but I can keep you for a little while with that photo-op thing. These people won’t turn it down.”

Okay, yeah, Octavio really wants to kiss you. Not only did you save him from an exchange with pa (about you, but he pushes that part to the back of his mind), you’re now offering to keep him from him indefinitely.

“You’re the best,” murmurs Octavio. His lips barely brush your ear and he doesn’t miss the little stutter of your breath. Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to repay you for earlier on the ride back to the Apex City.

Octavio lines up and that really seems to get people wanting to come over for pictures. Two old men he doesn’t recognize give him a cigar and he wedges it and the stim vial between his teeth, pointing at the camera with two of them. When a woman walks up, he dips her low, cackling while she swoons. More people come and Octavio makes stupid faces at the camera, even getting one old timer to throw up horns with him. You make the shoot fun and for once, he thinks he might have to pat Ajay on the back. Or apologize for lying. Maybe both.

“Mijito,” Octavio hears in the middle of another picture with two women. One has her hands on his chest, her leg swept up, and the other presses against his back while he holds up his arms in some silly superman pose. He peers over the head of the one in front of him, seeing not only Mami, but Pa standing at the very edge of the tarp. Fuck.

The picture’s taken and you lift yourself from behind the camera, glancing between him and his parents. He shoos away the two women, who thank him for the time and then swarm you to get a look at the picture. You fumble with your camera, clearly preoccupied with making sure his mami doesn’t bite his head off. With no other option, your gaze turns to the photos, and Octavio tries his best to keep his chin held high as he walks over to his parents.

“Your papa has told me something interesting,” says Mami first. Octavio’s jaw clenches and whatever tension he’d been accumulating earlier returns full force. The urge to run or fight hits him hard but he stands his ground. “Is that photographer pregnant?”

“No,” groans Octavio, reaching up to scrub at his face. “God, what is wrong with you two? Why is it if I look at someone you have to tell me to not get them pregnant? Or assume I will?”

“You haven’t been responsible with anything else. Why would we expect you to be responsible with sex?” Mami demands. If he weren’t already seething, Octavio might be embarrassed at this conversation. He is, though.

“I was responsible with Navi. And with every other pet you got me. And with my stim. I’m here, aren’t I?” He growls out and Mami holds up a finger instantly, drawing a little closer to try and hide the look she’s giving him.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way.” Pa says and Octavio whips his head to look at him, instead of his mother’s icy glare.

“What way? I’m just telling her the truth. I’m here when I didn’t want to be. I brought you guys a photographer,” growls Octavio.

“For no one else’s benefit but your own,” hisses Mami, “I should’ve known you wouldn’t do something like this without an ulterior motive. Does she have something on you Octavio? Is that why you brought her here?”

“No! She’s a good photographer and I needed someone other than you two here!” Octavio snaps, the words rolling off like venom and Mami’s chin tilts down, eyes flashing.

“Oh, of course, bringing a chew toy to a PR event must make you feel so much better,” Mami scoffs. He reaches up, pushing a hand through his brightly colored mohawk, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t talk about her like that,”

“I’ll talk about whoever I want however I want, and-”

“Not her!”

“God, you are just like your father, Octavio. We cannot afford to have you in trouble with the Games, and certainly not for some-”

“Ma, I’m not doing this with you. I’m here, I’m promoting Silva, and unless you want me to leave, you will not speak about her the way I know you were just about to. You will not.” Octavio outright barks and this seems to draw the attention of those strolling by them. Mami’s face slackens, her eyes flashing. In them, in the clench of her jaw, the curl of her fist, he sees something. Something like recognition.

He doesn’t care, too busy fuming about the fact they’re even having this stupid fucking argument. Octavio barely notices Pa, standing off to the side, looking as useless as he always does when he and Mami argue, or the short, porky man that hurries up to Mami’s left.

“Excuse me, Señora Silva,” the butler says, cutting their staring contest short. “There’s something requiring your attention in the kitchen. A wine shipment hasn’t arrived?”

“Hijo de gran puta,” snarls Mami, throwing her hands up. She turns away from his glower and it feels good to have won one of those standoffs. Even if it was technically a foul. Mami stomps into the distance and that leaves Octavio and Pa.

“Son, you know it’s not a good idea to-” begins Pa, but Octavio doesn’t let him finish. He hates when he does things that remind him of Mami but he turns away from him anyway, looking out at the rest of the ballroom as though he’d just gotten into an argument with everyone in it. He wants to run. He wants to jam the stim into his thigh and carry himself all the way back to the ship port, maybe roll in some mud to get this stupid crisp button up dirty. He wants to-

“Hey,” your voice chimes gently. He feels your fingers on his cheek and you turn his head, making him look at you. Your face is soft, and vulnerable, and open, and he’s so fucked. “C’mon. Show me to the bathroom.”

Octavio snorts. He offers you his elbow, but you don’t take it, instead interlocking your fingers and pulling him towards the exit. He notices your camera is still set up on the way out, but you’ve draped something over it to signify your booth is closed for a little while. Realizing he’s supposed to be taking you somewhere, Octavio pulls you up the stairs, down the hall, and into one of the many rooms of his childhood.

Being the son of preoccupied billionaires with too much on their plates to bother handling a rambunctious little boy, Octavio had a lot of rooms growing up. He had a game room, and a homework room (which was supposed to function as an office, when he got old enough to take over some of Silva Pharms mountains of paperwork). This room was always his favorite though. He slept in it most nights and even when he moved out, he hadn’t changed anything about it.

The full-sized mattress in the corner has racecar sheets. Octavio can’t drive for shit, but he always liked to watch old movies when it was common for everyone to use cars. The noises of engines rumbling with motor oil, of rubber on pavement… When he was a little boy, he told Luz he wanted to be a race car driver when he grew up. She laughed but on every holiday from then on out, she bought him a model race car.

All of them are lined up on the very top of a shelf, which has a bright red racing strip painted down the side. He’s got posters of old Nascar drivers on the wall, people who have been dead for centuries but who got to do super cool, fun things. Who sometimes even wrecked their cars.

“Hope you didn’t actually need the bathroom,” mutters Octavio, locking the bedroom door.

“What if I did?” You ask. He looks over his shoulder at you, checking to see if you’re serious, only to see you lounging on the edge of his mattress, peering around the room.

“Your room’s really cute,” you say, and Octavio snorts as he joins you, collapsing onto his old bed. It was way too big for him as a little kid, and even now as a young man, his slight frame doesn’t take up much of the larger beds offered to him. “Who even likes cars anymore? No one drives them.”

“We have a Bugatti in the garage.”

“Of course you do.” You two sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the party downstairs just barely reaching you. “So… you wanna talk about it?”

Not really. Talking about it means telling you what it was that got him and his parents into an argument in the first place. “My parents are just… The worst.”

“I got that.” You say. He glances your way, appraising you, and you hold your hands up. “Hey, we call them like we see them here.”

“They just, um.” Octavio frowns. Should he tell you? He feels like he shouldn’t. “My dad kind of saw me looking at you and asked if we were fucking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you says anything, unsure of how to proceed. Octavio’s knee begins to jiggle, and he huffs out a big breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“I told him it was none of his business, so I guess he decided to tell my mom. Which was… What that was about,” explains Octavio, waving his hand noncommittally. “They thought you were pregnant.”

“Ouch,” you say, and Octavio giggles. He peers over at you and you’re smiling, eyes soft, shining in the low light from his stupid race car lamp. Your make up has smudged a little, the vermillion on your lips mostly gone after you two had your share of food. Yet he can still see the remnants of it, especially as he sees the little upwards curve of your lips.

Fuck.

Without thinking, Octavio reaches up, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss, trying to take the remnants of that pretty red you’d been wearing. You go willingly, matching his vigor, his speed, and that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure how someone could affect him this way. You always keep up, even if you’re not ready to run into the line of fire.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head, and Octavio instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. You part them readily and you still kind of taste like whatever chocolatey something or other you’d gotten your hands on earlier. His other hand settles on your hip, and he wants to pull you on top so badly, wants you to scream so loudly that they know what’s going on downstairs. He wants you to look at him like you just were but maybe forever.

He wants to tell you. He wants to tell you what he said to you that night, what’s had him so bugged out. The thought alone feels like a rush.

You pull away from him pressing kisses across the taut flesh of his jaw. He sighs, head moving away, and your teeth clink against the black studs he has in his ear lobes. His blood pumps in his veins, the hand on your neck gliding down the length of your spine.

“Te adoro,” he murmurs between kisses. You pause, pulling away to meet his eyes. Your hair tickles his cheeks and he reaches up, tucking it behind your ear. “Eres en mi vida todo mi tesoro.”

“What?”

“Quiero decirte. Pero tengo miedo,” continues Octavio, fingers slipping into your hair. He tugs you down, catching your lower lip between his teeth, and you shudder in his grasp. You’re half on top of him, your body hot, your mouth swollen, and he wants. “No quiero perderte.”

“Oc, I don’t understand,” you breathe. Rather than telling you, though, he kisses you hard, lips moving across yours, and you melt into his arms.

“Jesús,” groans Octavio as his hand slides beneath the high cut on the side of your dress. He grabs at your panties, trying to yank them down your thighs. The twist of your torso to lean over him makes it hard. “Get those things off.”

“What did you say?” You huff out, though you obediently rise, dragging your panties down.

Rather than answering you, Octavio grabs you by the waist, pulling you back on top of him. He doesn’t stop you at his cock, though, half hard and tightening his pants. Instead, he helps you up, hooking your legs beneath his shoulders, your thighs on either side of his head and you whine, burying your fingers into his soft hair as you realize what he’s doing.

His hands travel up your naked thighs, to your ass, gripping it tightly. He looks up at you, at the dark look in your eyes as you pull the fabric of your dress aside, spreading your legs wider, clit even closer to his mouth. He huffs a breath against your cunt, damp but not wet, and his cock demands that he rectifies that right now.

With no further warning, Octavio’s mouth finds the shape of your cunt, molding against it, wetly kissing the pretty pink flesh. You quietly gasp, fingers wrinkling your dress, and he swipes at your slit with gentle flicks of his tongue, letting the musky taste of you linger on his lips.

That doesn’t feel right, though, not for the urgency at which he feels the need to move, so he flattens his tongue, sliding it through your slickening folds and up to your clit, slowly peeking out. The minute he feels it, firm and juicy and wet beneath his tongue, he sucks it between his lips.

The unhinged moan you let out is only emphasized by how you tighten your grip on his hair. You try to spread your legs further and Octavio fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your ass. Octavio helps you fuck your clit against his tongue, using his grip to make you grind against him, and the moan that leaves you sends a painful jolt to his dick.

His eyes flutter briefly open and if he wasn’t hard before, he is now, Dios. Your hair frames your warmed face beautifully, mouth open to heave in desperate little pants. Your clit is needy, twitching against his tongue, and your hands are fisted into the fabric of your dress, partly for leverage and partly to give him access to you.

His tongue slips down to your hole, the tip of it pushing, pressing it apart to gather up even more of your taste. You shudder above him, trying to roll your hips forward, and Octavio quickly takes the hint. His tongue moves back up to your clit, flicking back and forth, moving swiftly, and he feels your thighs tense, ass cheeks clenching in his hands.

“Oh, Oc, don’t stop,” you whimper, and he sucks as you thrust forward, uncaring of the way his chin drips with you. He’s going to smell like pussy. “God, right there, right there, Octavio, yes, yes, yesyesyes-”

You cum with a noiseless gush and Octavio groans at the sensation of your juice trailing down his chin. He doesn’t care that you slacken in his grip, that he’s momentarily suffocated by your cunt, just wants you to grind against his face as much as you can, try to ride out that orgasm you just had. You shudder, pushing at his head. Octavio pulls away, letting you scoot back down the length of him. The second he can reach you he kisses you, open mouthed and dirty, letting you taste the salty cum on his lips.

“Fuck.”

“Si, I’m trying,” he says, pressing your hips against his slacks. The noise that leaves you is half laugh, half moan, your clit hypersensitive against the fabric. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes,” you say, “please, yes. Yes, let’s fuck.”

“Yes, good, okay,” Octavio babbles. He taps your ass with two fingers. As you roll off, he undoes his belt, tossing it to the side. He unzips his pants, thumbs hooking into the waistband, only to find you reaching down to help him. He raises his eyebrows up at you and you smirk, seemingly having caught your second wind. “Si?”

“Si?” You taunt, reaching down to tug his pants down. You only pull them just enough that his cock can spring out, erect from eating you out, and you sigh at the sight of it.

He grins, trying to scoot his pants down a little more, only to pause at the sensation of something cool in his pocket. You climb on top of him, parting your dress again, and he watches you carefully.

With one hand, Octavio rolls that sweetheart neckline down your shoulders, to your elbows. It puts you in an odd position, unable to move your hands, but your tits fall out and, fuck, if that isn’t the sexiest shit he’s seen.

“I’m gonna ride you.”

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping.”

You snort. Unable to move your arms, your dress caught around your biceps, Octavio has to reach down to position his dick beneath your wet cunt. It opens beautifully for him as he drags the blunt tip along your lips, drenched with your earlier orgasm, and when it bumps your clit you jolt. Finally, gratefully, he finds your hole, and without further teasing, you sink all the way down onto him.

Your mouth falls open and you both groan in unison. Octavio’s thighs clench, trembling, because it’s only been a few hours since he’s cum and he’s not sure how much it will take for him to do it again. You feel so good, though, your pussy pulling him in.

“God, Oc,” you groan, falling forward, and your hands find purchase on his firm abdomen, tits squishing together as your index fingers touch. Before he can say something back, you’re moving, breasts jiggling with every bounce of your hips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whines, tips of his fingers digging into your thigh, and he’s pretty sure you can feel his pulse thumping through his dick. He bucks up into you, making your tits bounce harder, and you gasp as the tip of his cock thumps against something that feels different than the rest. “God, there?”

“There,” you moan back. As your eyes flutter shut, he slowly, carefully, pulls the neon green vial from his pocket. You’re lost in your own bliss, only sliding halfway up his cock. He waits, waits for your eyes to flutter open and when you finally look at him again, eyes heady and dark with lust, he jams the stim into his thighs.

Your jaw falls open, eyes widening as his veins bulge green, eyes brightening. He grins, wolfish, heart pounding. In the games, the stim makes him want to run, to shoot something. Now, all it does is make him eager to fuck you harder, faster, faster, faster.

The vial rolls out of his hand and he seizes your hips, holding you in place. You whine, desperate and he’s quick to oblige you. He thrusts up, cock disappearing and reappearing in a blur, tirelessly fucking you from the bottom, his thighs tensing at the tight squeeze of your walls on his cock.

The soft hair around his cock is already slick with you, worsening as he fucked into you with all the energy he saves for the ring, saves for when he’s Octane. Your chin drops against your chest, and he devours you with his eyes. He catches the way your teeth sink painfully into your lower lip and something primal comes over him, an animalism for your noises to overpower the ones from the party downstairs.

One of his hands shoots to your stomach, thumb blurring down to your clit. He fondles the hard, wet nub, and groans at the sensation of your pussy muscles clenching hard around his throbbing cock.

You borderline scream, trying your best to smother it with a scramble of your hand. It doesn’t help, the noise choppy with every powerful thrust of his hips into your cherry red cunt.

“Oh! Octavio! Oc!” You cry, the fingers of your opposite hand digging into his button up, grasping for purchase. He doesn’t know whether you lose your balance or just can’t keep yourself upright, but you plummet into his chest. He doesn’t flinch, just uses the angle to fuck you down the length of him, panting into your ear. Your pussy makes wet noises as he pounds you down onto his cock, tongue flickering out over your ear.

“What did you say?” You suddenly whine. It startles him and his rhythm stutters with his surprise, breath hitching in his throat. He holds it until he’s lightheaded, staring past your head at the ceiling. You weakly grind against his cock and he realizes he’s practically stopped moving, body only moving because of the stim being force through his veins like adrenaline.

“Oc,” you huff out, turning to press your brow against his throat. He can feel his pulse hammering in his jugular and he can’t tell if it’s because of the stim or because of you. “Please.”

Octavio abruptly sits up beneath you. His hands wrap tight around your waist, lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your collarbones.

“Te amo,” he murmurs into your skin, lowly, like maybe you won’t hear him if he speaks quietly enough. Recognition flashes in your face. The arms of your dress slide back up your shoulders as you suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders You use him for leverage to lift yourself up and down his cock, your wet cunt squeezing, hugging. Sloppy noises make their way out and he vaguely recognizes that his pants are going to be ruined.

“Say it so I can understand you,” you demand and he’s helpless, a slave to your desires, every sweet roll of your hips sending bolts of lightening through his gut. He grunts, fingers digging into your lower back.

“Fuck,” he hisses and you twist your head, biting into his throat. He moans, the noise low, strangled, drawn out as you continue to raise and drop your hips, only moving part way up his dick as you do. “Fuck, fuck, baby, porfa, I need-”

“Say it!” You gasp, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit sending you into a frenzy, making you use your grip on his shoulders to raise yourself up higher, until only the tip is inside. Your thighs work to keep you up but you slam back down and Octavio shudders.

“I love you,” he finally whispers, and you turn your head into his hair, wailing near his ear. He whimpers at the noise, trying to roll up. In this position, though, he’s at your mercy, and you fuck yourself onto him once, twice, three more times until you’re shaking into a wetter, softer orgasm.

He hisses at the sensation, at how your cunt clutches him, trying to keep him inside even as you continue to drag your body along his dick. He presses his face to the space between your breasts, smelling your sweat, and your perfume, and he pulls you all the way down so you’re sitting on the very base of his cock, rocking you along it. Almost there, right there, yes, mierda, so good…

“Fuck,” he hisses out loud as he cums. It’s weaker than the one in the ship, little spurts gushing out of him instead of erupting. He keeps his forehead on your chest, catching his breath, your cheek resting on top of his head as you do the same.

“So…” you say, softly, and your voice is hoarse, even though you hadn’t been doing a whole lot of noise making. Shame flushes through Octavio, the last of the stim ebbing from his system. He’ll need to get his dialysis machine to wash away the shreds of it but he can’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything but what he said to you.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m,” he says, grabbing your hips, trying to push you off. You clutch him tighter and your fingers cup his chin. You bring his gaze up to yours and his breath hitches at the way you look at him, at that soft, gentle look that he wanted you to give him forever.

“I love you too.” You say. The world freezes. The noise from downstairs fogs out of his ears, the wet, sticky sensation of you on top of him gone as he stares up at you. You, who has been here for him this whole night, who started off as a hook up.

He moves quicker than lightening, quicker than he’s ever moved, yanking you into a kiss. Your lips move together, hurried, passionate, making up for all the time he didn’t know. He pulls away, lips making a wet, popping sound.

“I could listen to you say that all day,” he huffs out. You giggle and he holds you tightly to his chest for a long, perfect minute, your fingers carding through his short hair.

Octavio hurtles back onto the bed, arms flopping above his head and you snort, still sitting in his lap, his dick inside of you. You don’t seem in a hurry to get it out though. Octavio strokes your thigh. “I really wish you would’ve told me that before this. I could’ve come as your girlfriend.”

Octavio’s lips twitch up in a little smile and he reaches up, placing a hand on your cheek. You make a face at the sweat there, but you don’t move away, your eyes a little softer, a little more open than he’s seen them before.

“You could’ve told me. Ever thought of that, chica?” Octavio asks. He throws his head back, laughing when you lean away from him, climbing off his lap to flop next to him in bed. You loop an arm around his shoulders, interlocking your fingers and nestling against the one closer to you.

“You’re insufferable,” you say, and he kisses the top of your head, humming.

“You love me.”

“I do. I do.”

#octane/reader #octavio silva/reader #octane x reader #octavio silva x reader #apex octane #apex legends octane #apex legends #apex lemons #apex imagines #nsft #lemon #shorty writes #female reader

267 notes · View notes

awhiskeyriver · 4 years

Note

Hi friend!! Hope you are safe, and hope you get some insp to write again❤️ Maybe the scene right after their first kiss? Love you❤️

An anon also requested the scene post-finding out about the bet and losing the football game and so these two sort of coincide together. Hopefully this fits your request friend! Love you too!<3

+++

The locker room lacked the natural cheer and comradery it usually held on game day. Win or lose, we were a pretty solid team and typically good sports, but it felt different this time.

Our winning streak of the season was officially over. To make it worse, we’d lost on our own turf.

“We’re still doing better than last season.” Finnick tried to keep spirits up, but among us there was the overall stench of defeat.

I stripped off my jersey and threw it into the hamper, eager to shower and change so I could go back to the apartment. The weight of the loss was resting on my shoulders. I knew I was at the heart of the problem that translated onto the field today.

All anyone could talk about this morning was the party last night. Specifically, the video that was being shared all over Instagram from it, starring Katniss Everdeen and I.

After her friend walked in on Katniss and I...and everything happened...I left the party with the excuse to the guys that I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a lie, I felt like I was moments away from puking. They let me go without protest, not wanting to be responsible for me being sick at the game, and I’d driven home, turned my phone off and gone straight to bed.

It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave my phone off on game days. It was easier to keep focused, tune out the needless distraction of text messages and social media, so I hadn’t found out about the video until some of my teammates showed me in the locker room.

Thirty minutes before kick off.

The horrible timing had a rippled effect, causing me to play my worst game of the season and give people even more reasons to talk.

“Mellark.”

Coach’s dominating voice vibrated off the walls, making his presence known before he was visible. I cringed inwardly, muscles tight. Hearing your name called fresh after a lose was never good.

I ran a hand over my sweaty scalp as he came into view.

“Yes, Coach?”

“My office in ten.”

My stomach knotted. Really not good.

If coach saw skepticism in my eyes, he ignored it. Everyone waited until he’d left the locker room to resume talking. I tossed my helmet into its shelf, right above the slot where my last name was scripted in gold-plated font.

Finnick, who’s bench was beside mine wrapped a towel around his waist before turning towards me.

“What’s that about?”

“No idea.”

“You don’t think it’s…” he trailed off, but the unspoken words clung to the air. I met his concerned frown with one of my own, hoping, praying Coach wasn’t calling me up to his office to discuss that.

“It’s probably just about the sack I didn’t block,” I muttered, just in time for Cato to chime in.

“Which one?”

I ignored him, debating if it was worth it to just go up and talk to coach now and shower back at the apartment alone. Quickly, I ruled the idea out. Couldn’t go up to his office smelling.

“Maybe he’s calling you up to discuss the fact that this is a men’s football team and you, apparently, have a pussy.”

He went to smack my crotch but I grabbed his hand, shoving him away before he had the opportunity.

“That would explain why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of him,” Finnick retorted cooly, earning a disgusted grunt from Cato.

“Dude, not cool.”

Finnick shrugged.

“I’m just saying maybe if he had a set of balls, hot girls would actually want to fuck him instead of just pretending to for money.”

I could feel Finnick gearing up for a retort, but held a hand out to stop him. Last thing I needed was someone else fighting my battles for me. What would that prove other than the fact that Cato was right? But, there was no point in getting into it with someone like him. He was trying to get a rise out of me so he could laugh and make more jokes when I reacted. Like, tell me to get my estrogen levels checked or ask if I was PMSing. Idiot.

I showered quickly and changed into street clothes before heading up to coach’s office. Nerves twisted my stomach as I approached his ajar door and gave it a quick knock.

“Come in.”

His face was buried into his computer, typing furiously with half-squinted eyes that focused hard on his task. His desk was littered with football knick-knacks and sticky notes. Behind him were plaques in numerical order for awards the team had won over the years and he had a cabinet off to the side of the office that hosted an array of trophies.

I pulled a chair out from the other side of his desk and sat down, waiting. After hours of being on the field, it felt nice to sit for a moment.

He finished whatever he was typing and took a deep breath before pulling his glasses off his face.

“You know why you’re here, kid?”

I wracked my brain, mulling over all the possible reasons. I decided to test the waters by trying out the easiest.

“Because I missed the tackle in the third quarter? I think I figured out my mistake. If I just--”

“I didn’t call you up here to talk football, Mellark.”

My frown deepened.

“Oh?”

Coach sighed, folding his hands together. “Were you at a party last night?”

Shit. Shit. Immediately I knew where this was going and it was no place I wanted to be. Already, I could feel my skin flushing with embarrassment...made worse by the fact that the guys had basically guessed this conversation down in the locker room.

If it were possible to dissolve into the floor, now would be a great time to do it.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and ran my sweaty hands down the length of my pants.

Coach seemed just as awkward as I felt. He scrubbed a hand over his bristled jaw line as we regarded each other silently.

“The party,” he finally continued. “Anything happen? Any sort of...altercations?”

I suppressed a groan, wishing he would just come out and say it so I didn’t have to.

“Not really.”

“Not really?” he parroted, looking skeptical. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “You’re sticking with that answer? Because I’ve heard otherwise. In fact, lots of people around campus have.”

I swallowed. There was no way to deny it.

“You...wanna talk about it?”

It being the video, undoubtedly.

It was far from the first time I’d been made fun of. Middle school had basically been hell; I stood several inches above everyone else and was twice as wide, which made for a host of comments and jokes at my expense. High school had been a little better, by then I was playing football and was able to deflect most of the jokes being made at me to those being made with me.

But College had been the best change of pace. Away from all the people I’d grown up with and knew too well in Virginia. I supposed it had been too much to wish the fluidity of my past two years could last.

“Not especially,” I sighed, in answer to Coach’s question.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, that kind of behavior isn’t permitted on campus, and technically that party was on campus. If you were wanting to press charges--”

Charges? This was getting out of control.

“What? No,” I said quickly with a wave of my hand. “I don’t want to do anything. I just...want this to not be happening.”

It was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Coach nodded in agreement.

“Well...if you change your mind or need to talk about it all--”

“I don’t.”

“Right. But if you do...”

I nodded, staring down at my lap, waiting with growing impatience for him to dismiss me.

“That’s all, then.”

I stood up in an instant and gathered my bag, heading for the door.

“Mellark,” he called, bringing me up short. I paused, but didn’t turn to look. “Don’t get stupid and start eating salads and shit. Can’t have you dropping weight in the middle of the season.”

#katnissmellark44 #ask #fanfic #the bet #peeta pov #the panem nightlocks series #hopefully this sort of fits what you and anon were looking for <3

78 notes · View notes

reconsidering-my-life-choices · 4 years

Text

Shine on you crazy Diamond.

A Tyril fic.

Pairing: Tyril x MC

Summary: This is au! Human! Tyril Starfury, and the way he meets mc in this universe. He's the head of a corporation, along with his father, and problems start arising after his engagement falls apart.

Word count: 1,996 words.

Warnings: None

You boy child, winner and loser.

He absent-mindedly walked down through the dim-lighted streets. A light drizzle falling, and dampening his long hair. He should have brought an umbrella. Though the weather was the last thing on his mind when he left his house that morning.

He was still fuming about that last foolish article they had written about him.

It’s been almost a week, give it a rest now.

A week since his engagement had fall apart. A week since the tabloids were filled with pictures of his former fiancée in the arms of another man.

He usually didn't care whatever it was they wrote about him, he had gotten used to the public scrutiny. But this time they hadn't just write about him, they'd gone and besmirched his family's name. Questioning his father’s judgement, for he had chosen such a “reckless, blind-sighted” man to be his second. Accusing him of nepotism, as if all the work he had put into their family business was worth nothing.

They knew nothing.

He was careless, and now his family was paying the consequences. He should have known better than to trust her. People outside of his family were not to be trusted. She wanted part in his business, she never loved him. She only wanted something from him, as everyone else did.

As he walked down the street he noticed people were eyeing him. Some with curious glances, some with judgmental stares, whispering to each other. As if having his failed attempt at a relationship for everyone to see wasn’t enough humiliation. Others just parted to let him walk through, as usual.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice a woman with her arms full with grocery bags walking his way.

He only noticed her when he felt the collision, and saw the contents of her bags sprawl all over the floor.

"Hey! Watch where you're going?!"

The woman quickly lowered herself to the ground to pick her scattered objects.

He was slightly stunned by the woman's reaction, but he was already riled up from the article, and wasn't appreciating her tone.

"I'm not the one crashing blindly into strangers."

His rational side knew that it was probably his fault. He was distractedly walking by, ignoring his surroundings. But his pride, and the anger he was feeling at the moment wouldn't let this go.

The woman was crouched in the ground, long hair covering her face, reaching for the objects spilled across the ground in a quick manner, before they could get wet from the dampened floor and rain.

"You sure about that? Because there are a considerable amount of people who'd probably say otherwise."

Her otherwise silvery voice was laced with enmity, as he could hear her grumbling as she hastily reached for her groceries.

He then noticed some people were staring at their exchange with curious gazes. The last thing he needed right now was to create a scene.

He sighed frustratingly, and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He lowered himself to the ground to help her gather some of her scattered items.

" Let me help you." He half grumbled.

"I don't need your help."

For the first time in their whole discussion, she looked at him. He couldn't help but notice her delicate features. From her smooth skin, framed by her long hair, to her captivating eyes. And he couldn’t possibly ignore the way her dress hugged her curves. She was… truly mesmerizing.

Recognition flashed her eyes for a second. He noticed.

He expected her to start apologizing profusely, to see the shame in her gaze.

Instead, she kept a neutral expression, and kept reaching for her things. He was slightly surprised, but didn't let it show.

There were a lot of items dispersed in the ground, and the light drizzle was turning into full rain. He felt a pang of guilt, after all, it was kind of his fault, even if he wouldn't admit so aloud.

"Seriously, please let me help you."

He picked the item closest to him. He didn't realize what it was at first, but when he fixed his gaze down he noticed. It was a box of tampons. His eyes widened a bit, and he felt the blush in his cheeks start spreading.

"Uh..."

When she saw what he was holding, she quickly took the box from his hands, averting his gaze with a blush of her own.

Despite the embarrassment he felt, he kept collecting some of the items, until they were all gathered back in her bags.

He was the first to stand up. He stretched his hand to help her, but she just got up on her own, light annoyance in her expression. They stood there for a moment, neither of them saying anything. She broke the silence.

"Well... You're not expecting me to thank you, are you? You did kind of run into me."

Her gaze was intense. He wasn't one to shy away from eye contact, but the way she was looking at him almost made him want to look away. Almost.

"Well, no..." Though she had a point. What was he still standing there for? What exactly did he expect from her?

She gave a sardonic smile.

"You're probably used to it, aren't you?”

He gave her a confused look.

“Used to what?”

He responded, with a harsher tone than he intended.

“ People thanking you for the honor of the Tyril Starfury giving so much as a glance at them."

He was taken aback. No one had ever speak to him like that. No one. What irked him the most wasn’t her rudeness or condescendence. No. What irked the most was that she was telling truth.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he was speechless. He shook himself from his inability to conjure words, and found his composure again.

"I am not responsible for what people treat me like. I never asked for any kind of special treatment."

He felt like he was telling that to himself rather than her.

She arched an eyebrow.

"You're saying you don't like their adoration and brainless devotion?"

"I wouldn't say they adore me, as of now." He said sincerely, his mind going back to the article.

"And even if they did, I'm not particularly fond of 'brainless devotion' from strangers that don't really know me."

He was slightly astounded with himself. Why was he telling a stranger these things? He wasn't the type to share what was in his mind. But they way she treated him, so... unfamiliar to him, so challenging. Made him want to explain himself to her, like he had something to prove.

Her eyes widened a bit in realization.

"Ooh, you're talking about… the article?”

He couldn't help the angry thought that crossed his mind.

Oh, come on. Did everyone knew already?

He knew she was using the word article to avoid the subject of his fiancée. He couldn’t help but appreciate her discretion. By now, everyone just talked about it like it was their business.

"You read it?"

Despite the anger rising within him, he kept his tone emotionless.

"Not really, but it is hard to ignore when the media keeps buzzing about it. One would think there are far more important news than the family drama of Bruce Wayne 2.0"

He couldn't help but give a small smile at the comment. She had sense of humor.

"Yeah, one would think so."

He gave a rueful smile, his light blue eyes slightly tainted with disgrace and shame.

She noticed the slight change in his demeanor, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. His entire private life exposed for the world to see. Under the constant judgment and scrutiny of the masses, all of them having a say on the way he handled himself and his life. Also, it probably wasn’t nice to find out your girlfriend is cheating on you by reading it on the tabloids.

She noticed the people looking at them, some even had the audacity to pull their phones out, as if they wanted to preserve this exchange and gossip about it.

“You people don’t have your own lives to get back to?! Get a move on!”

They quickly averted their gaze, and kept walking. Some of them kept grounded, but after one of her glares they kept moving.

When she looked back at Tyril he had an amused expression, mixed with something else she couldn’t pinpoint.

"You shouldn't listen to what they say, you know? " She blurted out before fully realizing what she was saying. She couldn't help but wanting to relieve some of that dark cloud looming over him.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Didn't you just say is hard to ignore?"

"Well... yes. But one thing is to hear what they say, and listen to what they say. You said it yourself, these people don't know you. Not really. They just happen to know things about you. You shouldn't care what a bunch of strangers have to say about your private life."

Again, he was stunned. He wasn't used to people speaking to him in such a free manner. Usually their words were calculated, contrived, and most definitely expecting something in return from him.

Yet here she was, giving him a piece of her mind, giving him advice, without ulterior motives. He felt... confused, but in a good way. Her openness, and sympathetic look gave him the courage to respond.

"I usually don't. But this time they didn't just diminished me and… my situation. They brought my family into it... And all because of something stupid I did."

She could recognize the emotion in his eyes. Guilt. Shame.

She wasn't expecting Tyril Starfury to be so… sensible. From what she knew about him, and based on what she has seen in pictures, he was very serious, with a calculative cold demeanor. She was expecting him to be the stereotypical spoiled brat who didn’t think of anyone but himself. She was finding out how wrong she was.

" Does your family blame you for what happened? "

There was a sort of genuine curiosity in her voice tone, albeit to that morbid need to poke into his private life, like he had grown so used to.

"... No. They don't particularly enjoy being badmouthed like that, but they don't specifically blame me. More the situation itself. "

"Then you shouldn't either. Besides, it's likely they'll forget about this with the next 'important' big news. The media always will pick whatever is the 'juiciest' new information, even something trivial and banal. No. Especially something trivial and banal. So this too, shall pass."

He considered her words for a moment. There was truth to what she was saying. Even more so, it was the way she was saying them, in such a kind voice, a real contrast with the anger she showcased earlier. He still felt vexed by the situation, but was able to find a sliver of comfort in the stranger's words.

He offered her a small smile.

"... Thank you."

She gave him a grin in return.

" Don't mind it."

She smiled one more time at him, and went about her way.

He was left standing there. Dumbfounded, his brow slightly furrowed in a confused expression. He was impressed at how the beautiful, slightly rude stranger had lifted his spirits. Even more so, because she did it out of amiability. No hidden motives, or schemes like he was used to expect from people who weren’t his father and sister.

"Wait. What is your- "

He turned around, but she was already lost in the sea of people.

"... name."

He stood there for a moment longer, contemplative about the stranger, and her words.

He looked down at his watch, realizing he was going to be late. He shook himself out of his daze, and kept walking, rain pouring down on him as he went by.

_________________________________________

Author's note: This is the very first fic I ever publish. Pls be kind 🥺. Feedback is appreciated. I plan on maybe keep writing this as a series. If you'd like to be tagged please let me know. This fic was inspired on the art and prompts of lovely @lxdy-starfury.

Tag team: @tyril-nia-kaya @mytardisisparked @pencils-and-paperclips @choicesandanimeruleme

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bolas tyril #tyril x mc #tyril starfury #blades mc #blades of light and shadow

44 notes · View notes

rosymaeflower · 4 years

Text

Idolize Me! CH 1

Summary: Idol!MC whos scummy as hell, follow her as she navigates Devildom from an idols perspective. Lotta plot, fluff and MAYBE smut as we go *wink wink* btw its harem af

I also post of Ao3!

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

"MC!"

My manager calls out to me as a team of stylists flutter around me, teasing and pulling on my hair and touching up on my makeup.

"Yeah?" I call out blindly to him as my eyes stay shut to allow a nameless hand to pad on another layer of shimmer atop my eyelid.

"After makeup and wardrobe, u should test the fitting of your mic and in ear piece, you don't want them falling out on you on stage!" He nags. It's so like him to remind me of things I've done thousands of times, but it seems to help him more than me so I tend to just humor him.

“Yes yes I got it!” I call out once again. The stylists around me slowly disappear one by one till it’s just my manager left, letting me know that makeup and hair has now officially completed. He presses the in ear piece into my hands and fiddles with the wires for a while, muttering about how we’re running late as usual.

I stare back into the reflection I see in the mirror. The girl before me has transformed completely from the regular me to a completely polished and idol worthy me. I barely recognize myself, but I don’t need that to do my job.

“Alright, done, get up!” My manager hurries again, signalling for the stylists to check me over once more. Their hands are on me again, pulling and tugging as they go. My eyes stray towards a screen showing a boy group nearing the end of their performance, the chants of fans vibrating through the thin walls doing nothing to soothe my ever present nerves.

“Are you ready?” My manager asks, now finally calm as I’m moving into position behind the curtains.

I chuckle, "Of course, how could I not?” The boy group bows collectively and file off the stage, the emcees of the award show returning to the stage to announce the winner of some other award I can’t remember. How much did I get for pawning off my trophies anyways? Not much if I recall, so the awards are basically worthless to me.

“Remember, make this a blast and you could get a ton of CF opportunities if your stage goes viral, we could even up your asking price!” My manager yaps, clearly off in fantasy land. I’m actually pretty comfortable with my current popularity as a soloist. My albums sell out regularly, I’ve done both local and international tours, I’ve never been in a scandal (except for the chicken wings commercial one but it was clearly the directors fault!) and public opinion of me as a person is a-okay. But of course, earning money is this industry’s driving force, it doesn't hurt to have a few more dollars lying around…

With a thunderous applause, the winner has accepted their award and has given an emotional speech of thanks. And now… It’s time.

I vaguely hear my stage name being announced before the curtains slowly peel apart, revealing a sea of colorful lights and shrill screams. I take a step forward only to fall. Fall through the ground, wind swirling around me and through my hair as the lights bend and shift into something else completely. My eyes squeeze shut and I let out a fearful scream before-

*THUD*

My eyes fly open, I'm now laid sprawled on some cool tiled floorings. The lighting is completely different, the stage and crowd is gone, my backup dancers are gone.

What the-

I whip my head around only for my eyes to lay upon an imposing figure seated atop a majestic golden throne. Tanned skin and fiery red hair, wrapped in deep red clothes that could only be described as royalty, the man smiles warmly down at me. My head is still spinning from the weird vortex I just experienced but I can tell he calls the shots around here. I'm laid right by the steps before him, which makes me feel more vulnerable than ever.

Something about him is off. Otherworldly. Despite his harmless smile, I know I shouldn't trust him right away. Besides, who the hell is he? Where the hell am I?

With my attention initially focused on him, I almost failed to notice the other figures standing in what could only be described as ‘throne room’.

A green haired man with an unreadable expression who stands by the left arm of the throne. A tall black haired man who has his arms folded and is looking at me with…. Uh, polite disinterest? Or is that malice? Honestly I can’t even figure it out. I don’t even know if I should be scared or happy right now!

By the side of Mister Dark Scary Pants, there's a lean blonde guy with striking poison green eyes, his left hand absentmindedly laying on his chest. He looks decently normal, except for the ever present wrinkle between his brows. His eyes seem to flicker in recognition as he stares at me. Beside him, a beautiful peach haired man with an even more beautiful smirk chuckles as he stares right at me, his eyes unashamedly roaming down from my head to my bare legs.

“My my~ What have we here?” He croons in my direction. Well then. Looks like he's a classic pervert.

I’m no stranger to beauty, god knows I meet many extremely attractive people in my line of work, but something about them all seem... off. Just like the Throne Guy. They're all impossibly gorgeous but I feel like I should be running for my life right now, which I would but I am currently busy being plastered to the floor.

My thoughts are then interrupted by Throne Guy, who sweeps open his arms in a shameless welcoming gesture.

“Welcome to Devildom!” He announces, his voice surprisingly friendly. "Sorry if we startled you Miss MC, I'm afraid we couldn't be sure of your whereabouts before summoning you here."

I eye all of them cautiously, unsure if I’ve died or just am in a coma. “Ah yes… Devildom yes…” I say absentmindedly, slowly getting to my feet. Did my manager arrange for me to perform for the devil? First of all, major breach of contract! Secondly, how much am I getting paid? I reckon I could fetch a high price down here...

Finally standing, I realize just how naked I feel in this vast empty room. The dress I'm wearing is an off the shoulder long glittery blue piece, definitely suited for my scheduled stage but NOT for an audience with sketchy handsome men! The green haired man beckons me up the low steps and wraps a coat with strange symbols around my bare shoulders.

"Um…" my soft voice echoes through the loud room, making me cringe but I'm way too confused and worried to care. "So where am I? And who are you people?" I wave my hand at the surrounding men. "Am i… dead?" I asked tentatively, wrapping the coat tighter around me.

If I am, how on earth did I die?? Stage piece fell on me? My manager stabbed me? My backup dancer stabbed me?? A deranged fan?? As my thoughts raced a mile a minute, the Throne Guy’s deep laugh brings me back to the present. While surprisingly warm, I can’t help but feel like I’m some sort of prey here… And the men are all definitely predators.

"No, Miss MC, you're far from it!" He puts his hand to his chest. “My name is Diavolo, I am the crown prince of Devildom,” He then gestures to the man on his left, green haired man. “This is Barbatos, he serves me as both my butler and advisor,”

His hand waves towards the other 3 men on his right. “These are the Avatars of Sin, immediate to my right is Lucifer, then Satan and Asmodeus.

A strained smile finds itself on my face at his words. Is this some sort of prank? I shifted my eyes around, hoping to spot a secret camera, a boom mic, anything that would confirm my suspicions but I found nothing. Those names… I was never religious but everyone knows the name Satan and Lucifer right? The rest of the names sound familiar as well, biblical yet demonic at the same time…

I eye Diavolo, my eyes hoping to catch something that could help me figure all this out. "So Diavolo… If I’m not dead, why am I here?" I ask tentatively, still not believing most of what’s going on.

"Why there's no need to be scared, pretty girl!" Asmodeus purrs at me. "Just look me in the eyes…" His hand reaches out to turn my face towards his before a black gloved hand reaches out to smack it away.

"Control yourself, Asmo," Lucifer says sternly, nearly stepping right in between us.

“Aw you’re no fun Lucifer,” Asmodeus laughs, shooting me one last wink before leaning back. It seems like this Lucifer has some sort of authoritative power over them too?

Diavolo clears his throat, bringing my attention to him once again. “Well to answer your question, you’re here on a student exchange programme!” He says cheerfully. “You will be attending RAD, the Royal Academy right here in Devildom to learn the customs and culture of us demons here.” He explains.

My mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “Uh huh?” I ask, a little in shock.

“Worry not,” Barbatos finally speaks, his voice light and lilting. “Your disappearance back home will be dealt with accordingly and you will be given all the help you need to adjust to your 1 year stay here.” He says, stepping forward to press a mobile like device into my hands. “ This is your D.D.D, it operates similarly to a regular human cellphone where you can contact people, complete your tasks for school and even operate social media.”

My jaw drops. “Wait so… I can contact my friends and family? And even post from hell??” I ask hopefully. “And wait, did you say ONE YEAR??” My brain finally caught up to everything he said.

“Let me correct myself, you can contact residents here only, and you will only be able to access Devilgram for social media purposes, it won’t impact your account back on the human realm.” Barbatos explains patiently. “Also, this place is officially called Devildom but yes there are humans who call it ‘Hell’.” He says, a little amused. “And yes, the exchange programme lasts a year.”

Well then. There goes whatever social standing I have left. People forget stars as quickly as they come, a year without comebacks? Or posting? Or shows? I’m basically jobless for the next whole year! Where am I gonna get my money! Also not seeing my family? Not to mention me never signing up for this anyways!

“But I have a job!” I exclaim, eyes flitting back and forth between Diavolo and Barbatos. “I didn’t sign up for this either, you must have the wrong person-”

Barbatos shakes his head calmly. “We most certainly have the right person Miss MC, you may not have signed up for this but your file was picked out of tens of thousands, you are incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.”

I made a face at him, finally regaining my nerves. I also don't have to worry about cameras here so I don’t have to worry about scandals anytime soon! “Listen, my job-”

“Ah yes, you’re an idol back in the human realm correct?” Diavolo interrupts me now, his teeth glinting under the chandelier light. “Not to worry, we have made it so that you’re taking a hiatus from performing to go back to school, we have made sure your family is aware of that too,”

The beautiful man gasps suddenly. "Oh my god! I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" He grabs my hand, leaning closer into me. "You're (stage name)!" He exclaims, eyes roaming over my face in childlike wonder. Once again, Lucifer moves forward to pull him back, this time with a disapproving glare.

I grin a little shakily. So demons can recognize me after all… "Ah yes but that's just a stage name… My real name is MC," I explain.

Satan, the blonde man, taps his fist into his palm in realization. “No wonder you looked so familiar,” He says. “I’ve heard of you and your songs,”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Demons… know idols?” I ask curiously. This could be a huge plus for me, I could rack up tons of cash down here, maybe even convert whatever demon money I earn into human money!

Barbatos finally smiles at me, his face looking way less mysterious with it now. “Yes Miss MC, you’ll find that you have a bit of a fanclub down here in Devildom as well.” He says.

“Oh!” I must say, in my 4 years of being an active idol, I never expected a portion of my fans to be made up of demons. But a welcomed surprise… I can hold concerts, fansigns, maybe even a high five event? Just thinking about all the money I could get from this is exhilarating!

“During your stay here you will be living with us,” Lucifer interjects through my money driven thoughts. “By us I mean my brothers and I, the Avatars of Sin.”

Asmo snickers, “You and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted with one another then, I’ve never been with an idol before!” He says almost giddily, licking his lips.

“and you never will.” I say firmly, frowning slightly.

“Please excuse my brother, he’s the Avatar of Lust after all,” Satan says, folding his arms. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath and Lucifer over here is Pride but I’m sure you can tell that by the pompous way he speaks and acts-”

“Satan please,” Lucifer grits out, “We have guests and we are in the audience of Lord Diavolo, mind your words,” He narrows his eyes at his brother, who shoots him an equally dirty look back.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh which earned a smug smile from Satan and a piercing glare from Lucifer. “Haha yes… So is that all I have to know?” I ask finally, rolling my shoulders back to ease a bit of the tension that’s been building up since I got here.

“Ah since this is an exchange programme, you aren’t the only human here,” Barbatos says. “Solomon, a human sorcerer, will be taking the same course you will be as well at RAD,”

“A sorcerer?” I ask in wonder. Hmm, I definitely should get to know him, I can’t just be with demons all the time can I? And he may be a fan… How much would he pay for a signature hmm?

“Yes but he will be living in the Purgatory Hall with the angels from the Celestial Realm,”

“I’m sorry what now?”

“You’ll be living in the House of Lamentation with the brothers as explained,”

“Why, pray tell?”

Diavolo lets out a laugh. “I assure you this wasn’t on purpose, the Purgatory Hall just doesn’t have enough space for all 4 of you,” He explains. “Now Lucifer, about her caretaker?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps forward. “We Avatars of Sins are in RADs student council, so we will naturally be looking after you during your stay here in Devildom but I have also assigned one of my brothers to be your primary caretaker for any of your immediate needs,” He pulls out his own D.D.D, taps on the screen a few and then hands it to me. “You may call him down here, his name is Mammon” He said. “Put it on speakerphone,” He adds, his brows knitting together almost in preparation for disapproval.

I gingerly take his D.D.D and tap on Mammons name. Since they’re all assigned to one of the 7 deadly sins, I wonder which is Mammons? The dial tone is steady for a long while and before I wanted to give Lucifer back his phone, someone picked up.

“Whaddaya want?!” A males voice rings through the air.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Lucifer's hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Uh hi?” I ask, a little awkward. I look incredulously at Lucifer who isnt looking at me, why’d he hand me the phone so abruptly?! Asmodeus and Satan look on with little smirks on their faces, Satan probably enjoying Lucifer's despair more than the actual phone call.

“Wait you ain’t Lucifer!” Mammon shouts through the phone. “Whyddaya sound like a gir-” Mammon gasps loudly. “Are ya a gal he’s seein’?!!”

I splutter as Asmo and Satan laugh openly now, clearly enjoying this all too much. Lucifer lurches forward as if to grab his D.D.D. back but Diavolo holds out a hand to stop him, hiding a smile behind his palm with the other.

“Wait why’d I hear Asmo and Satan too?! Are ya with ‘em too? Lucifers gonna be real mad if he finds out ya know?!” Mammon shouts urgently at me, as if giving me holy advice.

“I- What? NO!” I trip over my words trying to get my point across. “No, god no, I’m a human from the exchange program?” I say, glancing up at Barbatos to make sure I’ve said the right thing but his unreadable expression tells me nothing.

The line goes dead silent for a bit. “LUCIFER’S SHAGGIN’ A HUMAN?!?!” Mammon bellows through the phone.

I blush wildly at his words, not knowing what to answer. Satan and Asmo laugh openly now, Satan falling to his knees as he grasps at his stomach. Lucifer hisses, grabbing his phone back now that Diavolo’s too busy laughing to stop him.

“Mammon, I’m giving you 1 MINUTE to come down to the throne room or I’ll have you hung from the ceiling for the rest of the week,” Lucifer says lowly into the phone, his voice dark and uh.. Scary as hell? Remind me not to get on his bad side thank you!

The line goes silent again. We all settle into silence as we hear thuds echoing through the walls, gradually growing louder before the big grand doors burst open to reveal a huffing and puffing figure collapse on the carpeted floor. Tanned skin with snow white hair, Mammon is as attractive as all of his brothers, except for the fact that he seems to be dying right in front of us.

“38 seconds, not bad,” Lucifer tuts, glancing at his watch.

“ARGH,” Mammon groans. “What was that for Lucifer?! I wasn’t gon’ tell nobody!” He complains, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants.

“You dare forget that we are supposed to welcome the new exchange student today, jump to such conclusions and embarrass us in front of Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer seethes, crossing his arms, his eyes glowing redder by the second.

“Relax Lucifer, he’s here now so it doesn’t matter,” Diavolo drawls from his throne. He seems to be enjoying this little show we have unknowingly put on.

Mammon eyes me with distaste. “So ya a transfer student? Why are ya all dressed up like that anyways?” He asks suspiciously.

“MC here is an IDOL,” Asmo claps his hands in glee. “Come on MC, let’s bounce! I can’t wait to show you all the makeup we have down here!” He links his arm with mine, pulling me towards the large doors left ajar by Mammon.

Mammon whips around towards us suddenly. “AN IDOL?! Hang on are ya (stage name)?!” He nearly shrieks, eyes as large as saucepans. A fan maybe?

“Yeah that’s right! And you aren’t getting your scummy hands on her cuz I claimed her first!” Asmo brags, yanking my arm tighter towards him.

“I mean if you want a signature, you can pay me for one,” I offer with a sly smile, shrugging Asmo off. How could I pass up such an opportunity? Maybe I could even inflate what I usually charge at fansigns back on Earth…

Mammon's jaw grows slack as he stares at me. “Are ya… chargin’ me?” He whispers, grasping at his heart.

Satan lets out a sharp laugh, walking towards us. “Turns out she’s as scummy as Mammon,” He comments, eyeing me with newfound interest.

“Ridiculous,” I scoff, “I’m scummier.” With that, I relinked my arms with Asmo and we marched out of the hall with Satan, leaving Mammon standing there stunned.

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

like/reblog if ya like ^-^

#obey me #obey me fanfic #idol!mc #idol!reader #mammon #lucifer #asmo #belphie #beel #satan #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #luke

14 notes · View notes

occasionalfics · 5 years

Text

worth my while // p. 1

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | prologue | p. 2

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: For all of y’all that are wondering how Thor is involved...here’s where it starts! Let me know what you think! :D

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually).

Words: 2,027

Hades spoils you, but only when he wants something out of you. Only when it benefits him. At least he doesn’t put his hands on you. Most of the time.

Tonight, he’s gifted you the most ostentatious golden gown you’ve ever seen. The back is low cut, and the front drapes over your body as if it were made for you. Even you notice how much you shine in it, but you can’t tell if that comes from your skin or Hades’ magic.

The shoes he’s given you, however, are not a gift. They’re torture devices, in your own opinion. But they make your legs look amazing.

Hades knows what he’s doing. Knows what he likes, too. Knows what men like him like.

Men like him and Victor Von Doom.

Sorry, Doctor Victor Von Doom.

God, you think, knowing all too well about the irony in not invoking Zeus instead. What a pretentious name.

But then again, your Master is the literal God of the Underworld. He’s not a man at all, you realize.

And you really shouldn’t be surprised; Doctor Von Doom’s ballroom is just as incredible as his name and reputation. According to the information Hades gave you, the man is an insanely rich sovereign of some country called Latvia, but he has business to attend to in New York. And, for some inexplicable reason, he hates Doctor Reed Richards, as if that means anything at all to you.

Hades insisted it would, one day. But that was all he’d said on the subject.

Von Doom is easy enough to find in his sea of guests. It’s a charity event, and everyone is clambering to get a peek at the elusive host. Why Hades thinks this man will comply with his terms, you can’t say, but you still find yourself doing your job, stalking over to him with your head held high, hair falling into your face for an air of mystery.

Hades words, not yours.

You join the conversation easy enough. It’s all the same, after a while. You stay coy and playful on the outside, despite the creeping cynicism and exhaustion inside. It’s enough to catch Von Doom’s attention on more than one occasion.

Eventually, you’re quipping back and forth with him, holding your own with a gazillionaire like you’d never imagined before giving everything to Hades. But the God has trained you, and trained you well. He refused to send you out to do his bidding until he was satisfied, knowing you were ready according to his own standards.

By now, you’re practically an expert in playing a room.

And you get Von Doom alone in under thirty minutes. Almost breaking your last record of twenty-seven and a half.

He brings you to his office, sits in a large, red velvet chair behind his desk, and pours two lowballs of Scotch. You forgo one of the chairs opposite him and place yourself directly on his desk, between his nametag and intercom.

“So, Miss (Y/L/N),” he says, a light accent evident in his tone. “I must say, you’ve quite intrigued me.”

You already know this, but you give a light chuckle and lift your shoulders playfully anyway. “My employer will be thrilled to hear as much.”

He tilts his head toward one shoulder as he looks at you quizzically. You have to admit to yourself that he is rather...gorgeous. Classic Hollywood looks, vaguely European accent, clearly tanned and bright eyes any woman could fall freely into.

But he’s also a Billionaire. And, according to some of the things you’d read, not the greatest person. Or lover.

“And who, may I ask, is your employer?”

Your smirk widens. You push yourself off his desk and take a look at the shelves he has around the room. A well-read man, Von Doom appears to be. It’s almost impressive - would be even more so if you hadn’t gotten to know Hades too well since...everything.

But you can’t get lost in that right now. No, right now, you have a mission. A job.

After all, you sold your soul.

“He’s a man of many talents, Doctor Von Doom.” You pick a book off a shelf, pretend to examine the spine, then place it back without messing up the order. “A man much like yourself.”

Only he’s immortal and clever and I hate him.

But that’s also your own fault.

You turn only your head and glance at von Doom. His expression is still curious, so you know you’ve got a hook in him. Now all that’s left to do is reel him in on Hades’ plan.

You cross your arms and go across the room to another shelving unit, this one covered in sculptures of all media and sizes. There’s a bust of a woman that you’re sure is Mary Shelley, but you’re not sure what she has to do with any of this.

“And what is it that your employer does?” Von Doom asks.

As calculated as Hades’ intends, you turn fully to him and answer, simply, “He deals in life.”

In a way, it’s true. But that’s another reason you hate Hades. He’s far too technical. Gets what he wants on too many technicalities and specific details.

And yet, you always find yourself still respecting his methods. He gets what he wants, and everyone else pays for it. He’s never the one to get hurt, never the vulnerable one. After a lifetime of being told that that meant being evil, you’ve come to find that that’s not always the case.

Sometimes, it’s just better. Easier, being alone. Because no one can get hurt.

Von Doom’s laughter pulls you back into the now. But no worries; you’re prepared for this, too.

You take a heavy step toward him. “My employer is interested in powerful people,” you say. “He has plans. World-changing plans, Doctor Von Doom.”

With a good-natured smile, he tells you, “Please, call me Victor.”

They always say that you think. But you nod anyway.

“Victor,” you start again, taking yet another step back to the desk. “My employer is a man with vision. He has his means, but he wants allies. People to share his vision of the future, with a similar vision for today.” You splay your hands on the edges of the desk and smile gently at him now. “He wants to take out the Avengers.”

Victor laughs again. For just a split second, you’re confused, but you quickly compose yourself.

Before either of you can make a next move, the door bursts open. More accurately, the door is forced into the room, the wooden moulding in its frame splintering and cracking, the concrete surrounding it turning to rubble.

Speaking of…

You have no idea what the Avengers could want at a Von Doom Charity Party. So when the blond God from...Space, as far as you know, barges in with rage in his eyes, you stand and immediately back away.

“Let the lady go, Doom,” the God says, deep voice booming through the room.

Victor’s smile falters and vanishes. He sighs and shakes his head.

“You simpleton,” Victor says. “Must you constantly be ruining my doorways?”

“In the name of public safety, whatever it takes.”

You definitely have no idea what that means.

Victor is up in a flash, a metal gauntlet covering his fist - a gauntlet he certainly wasn’t wearing a moment ago. He blasts the God with a streak of white light, but it only earns him a roar in return.

And a blast twice as bright, twice as powerful, and twice as damaging. It hurts for you to look, so you turn to the window and yelp.

The air in the room settles, and there’s a plopping sound as something heavy hits the floor. You don’t turn around until a hand settles on your upper arm, but instead of Victor, you find the God holding onto you.

You push his hand off and glare. “You asshole!” you yell. “I was in the middle of something!” Something much more important than this...Lightning Guy would ever know.

He just stares at you, blank expression on his face while the doorway around him continues to fall apart. You can hear shouts and yelling from the ballroom, and a metallic voice attempting to calm the crowd.

You roll your eyes, knowing Tony Stark is behind all of this. Whatever this is.

It’s too ironic, you think, that you’re here to accost Victor Von Doom in an attempt to get him to join Hades in taking out the Avengers when they just happen to show up.

“Are you not...a damsel in distress?” Lighting Guy asks.

You had half-turned to a passed-out Victor, but find you can’t help but respond. So you turn back and glare at him and spit, “Do I look like I’m in distress?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that. You return to Victor, who groans now. Without looking back at Lightning Guy, you tell him to get lost and head across the room to make sure your target is still alive, can still possibly benefit you.

In a way, you think you should thank the Avengers for showing up. With this attack on Victor, he’ll have a vendetta. Once the so-called heroes disperse, you can use this to your advantage.

To Hades’ advantage.

“I would not approach him if I were you, madame.”

You groan this time, a deep and rumbling sound that shakes your chest. “I can handle myself,” you tell him. Just inches from Victor’s twitching legs, you look at the...actually quite handsome, gigantic man in the doorway who’s watching you curiously. You smirk at him, because giving anything real away could jeopardize your new plan. “Have a nice day,” you tell him with a wink.

Kneeling beside Victor, you reach down and feel for his pulse, even though you saw him moving already. He’s definitely still alive, which makes you sigh.

“Ma’am,” you hear. It’s not Lighting Guy this time, though you missed the sound of footsteps approaching. “I’m gonna have to ask you to clear the room.”

You’d know that self-important, high-and-mighty tone anywhere. He was the spokesperson for the team, after all, though Tony Stark often thought of himself as such. The difference was that Stark had his own business to speak for on a regular basis, while Captain America had only the Avengers.

“Ugh, fuck off, would you?” you let out, despite how borderline polite the Captain had sounded.

“This building isn’t safe,” he says back, like you know nothing at all about the situation you’re currently in. “That man is a dangerous-”

“I know who he is,” you shoot. You sit back on your heels and give both Captain America and Lighting Guy an unimpressed look. “I’m a big, tough girl.” You turn and stand, just to make a point, showing off the uncomfortable shoes that lace up around your calves up to your knees. “I can tie my own sandals and everything.”

“I’ll give you one last chance, ma’am, before one of us is forced to remove you from the room,” Captain America says, voice even and commanding.

You’re not surprised that he’s not exactly the piece of Apple Pie every American thinks he is.

You look them both over. Lightning Guy’s biceps are bigger than your head. Each. He’s...unreal. Inhuman. He looks like he could pummel Hades into next year.

But the longer you look, the softer his eyes become. There’s...something akin to respect lining the electric blue of his irises. Like he sees the power you’re attempting to wield and likes it, even if you’re busy telling him to fuck off.

And Captain America - well, that dude punched Nazis! You couldn’t take him if you wanted to. He’d have you over his shoulder and down a flight of stairs before you could blink.

Because you know all this, and because you’d rather leave with whatever dignity you have left in tact, you sigh and nudge Victor’s shin with the heel of your shoe. You roll your eyes again and say, “Fine, fine. If he wakes up, tell ‘em I’ll be back, would ya?”

You head across the room and the two huge men make way for you. Just as you come up to Captain America’s shoulder, he steps back and puts himself in your way, but doesn’t bother with touching you.

You’re quite thankful for that, actually.

“I wouldn’t advise it, ma’am.”

You give him a rather condescending hmm, look right into his sky-blue eyes, and smirk the smirk Hades always says is the reason he keeps you around. “Save it for someone you can actually save, Cap,” you tell him.

Then, you’re gone.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #hercules au #worth my while fic

118 notes · View notes