#i genuinely can’t tell the difference between his silly moments and attractive ones because he always looks attractive to me😃 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snelbz · 1 year

Text

‘Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Seventeen}

Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab.

‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist

A/N: The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Enjoy. 😏

This chapter is 18+.

Elide —

The calls with Yrene have been happening less frequently as time goes on, but today, I’m sitting in front of my laptop, waiting for her to pop up. It’s me and Lorcan’s one month anniversary. I woke up this morning to a table full of breakfast. There was so much food that there was no way we could have finished it, but it was beautiful. He had flowers in the middle of the table and mimosas made to perfection. It was such a sweet gesture and by the end of breakfast I was stuffed silly and a little tipsy, which I found to be a combination that I liked.

Now, Yrene’s picture pops up on the screen and I waste no time as I accept the call.

She’s smiling, like always. “Good afternoon, Elide.”

“Good afternoon,” I smile, and fidget with my hands in my lap. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She laughs quietly. “The better question is, how are you?”

“Good,” I say, and mean it. “Great, actually.”

“I hope you’re referring both to yourself individually and with your husband,” she says.

I nod. “Things have been going really, really well. There’s definitely an attraction between us now. Things seem to be getting easier and easier by the day.”

Yrene remains quiet for a moment, like she’s waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, her head cocks to the side. “But?”

Hesitating, I blink. “How do you know there’s a but?”

Yrene’s soft laughter is genuine and makes me feel comfortable around her. “Elide, in our chats, there is always a but.”

She has me there. Although things between Lorcan and me have been going great, I do always seem to have a but. It’s in my DNA. My brain is always searching for the con.

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I don’t know exactly how he feels about me and it’s frustrating. Sometimes I get a feel for his emotions, but most of the time I’m just guessing what’s going on inside of his brain. Men are complicated…especially when they’re incapable of sharing their emotions.”

Yrene nods thoughtfully. “So, am I correct in assuming you have yet to have sex?”

After nibbling on my lip for a moment, I shake my head. “No, we haven’t.”

“Because you’re not sure how he feels about you?” she pushes.

“Exactly. I mean, I want to. I’ve been at that place for a little while now, wanting to have sex with him, but I just want it to be the right time.” It was the first time I’m saying it out loud and I realize how much I really do want him, especially after last week. “I want us both to have more intimate feelings, I want it to mean something.”

“And you’re telling me that you already have those feelings?” she asks, voice kind. “That you’re ready?”

“Yes,” I admit, and I’m confident in it. Even though I’m not so confident in exactly what it is that Lorcan’s feeling. “It’s not that Lorcan isn’t good to me. He’s so good to me. In fact, I’ve been surprised at what a good man he is. I just… I don’t know. I almost feel like, sometimes, he just wants the physical from me but he wants to avoid the emotional. You know? The physical stuff…he’s good at that. But I need more of the emotional from him. I want a deep, emotional connection.”

Yrene processes what I’m saying, taking a few notes, before she meets my eye again. “It seems that you two have different love languages. However, they’re not so different that they cannot coincide. It all has to do with how you convey your emotions.”

I frown. “I’m not following.”

“I can’t tell you what Lorcan and I talk about, but I can tell you that he may be expressing how he feels, he simply isn’t doing it the same way that you do, so you may be missing it.” I’m having a hard time making sense of what she’s saying and when I say nothing, she continues. “You two need to learn each other’s love languages and work on finding a common ground.” When I hesitate, she laughs quietly and puts it into simpler terms. “There are a lot of things you could be doing, intimately, without having actual intercourse, Elide.” My cheeks heat as I think about what he did for me in the bath last week, but I don’t say anything. “Maybe that's what he needs. He could possibly, just maybe, be assuming you don't have feelings for him because you're not giving him the type of attention he requires. Just like you feel he's not giving you what you need.”

I nod slowly. “I guess you could be right.”

She laughs and her smile is genuine. “This is what I do, after all… I think you both need to give a little, specifically you need to let your walls down some. You are married, after all, and intimacy is important in a marriage. While I completely respect you trying to guard your heart and body, I have a feeling that making love with him is only going to bring you closer together. And if what you’re telling me is true, whether you sleep with him or not, if things don’t end well, it sounds like you’re going to have your heart broken anyways. It would be unfortunate if you had to question things afterward, that maybe things didn't go as well as they should have because you both left this huge, important part out of your marriage. The whole idea of this experiment is to put yourself into it one hundred percent.”

Reluctantly, I nod, and I swear, I can see a self-satisfied smile on her face. “Okay. I see what you mean. If this was over tomorrow, and he decided he didn’t want to stay married, I wouldn’t blame him. But I would miss him and I’d be pretty pissed at myself for ruining what we had. The last thing I want is to push him away.”

“Then I think you need to try to spice things up a little, see how it goes. Try to remember you both answered a lot of intimate, personal questions in your written interviews, and we had our reasons when we put you together. I know it might not seem obvious to you right now, but try to trust us, okay?”

“You’re right.” I sigh and pick at a hangnail. “I'm sorry if we’ve been difficult.”

She waves her hand at me. “Don't you dare apologize. That’s what this is all about. You two are by far our most unique couple in the experiment, and you both have been incredibly honest in your chats. So, thank you for that. I know it can get uncomfortable for you at times.”

That was an understatement.

She asks a few more questions, making sure I’ve still been writing in my journal like I’m supposed to before we hang up.

I hadn’t thought about Lorcan needing to be loved differently than I do. While I need him to tell me how he feels, he seems to be more of a show, not tell kind of person. I have no idea how to go about confirming that.

A personality quiz?

I consider the simplicity of the idea, sure that I could find something online, as I head down to the basement to move the laundry over to the dryer. I’ve got a few orders I need to fill, so I head for the stairs, but I notice the door to Lorcan’s workout room is open.

And so is his journal, sitting on one of the benches.

I freeze and a full-on internal war is raging in my head. I know I shouldn’t look, Yrene just told me in our video chat that she couldn’t tell me anything he’d told her.

But it’s right there, and there are things I’ve written in my journal that I definitely haven’t told Yrene about.

I enter the gym, pushing the door the rest of the way open. I cringe when the hinges squeak, even though I know he’s at Vaughn’s getting work done on a new tattoo. He shouldn’t be home for a couple hours at least.

I pick up the soft, leather journal, loving that we both opted to go the handwritten route, rather than just the notes app on our phones or something impersonal like that. The page I’m looking at is blank, but I can tell there’s something written on the one before.

Taking a deep breath, I decide I’ll just read the most recent page. That’s it.

I don't know how to break through the walls she has up. I know she's still scared. I know I've done things to fuck up and my past is shitty. But I've tried to make up for the stuff I've done. I'm not good at talking about my feelings. I try to show them, but I'm not sure it's working. It's like she's clueless about how much she already means to me. I wish she would do something, anything, to show me that she actually wants me. I did this to feel wanted and loved for who I am and what I can give, but fuck, I'm lost. I know she cares about me, but I'm struggling with getting closer to her. I've never been the touchy-feely type, but somehow she's got me doing that stuff. But I want more. Maybe I'm a dick, but sex is important to me. It's just important in a different way with her. I have no idea what I'm even saying anymore. I'm afraid the longer this goes on, we're never going to be more than roommates that tease each other sometimes. I'm not sure where my wife is in all this or how to get her to come out.

My hands are shaking as I put the journal back, just like I found it. My eyes blur with tears as I hurry from the room and back upstairs, laundry king forgotten.

And here I thought he just wanted my body. He wants more, just like I do.

This proves we have a long way to go in our marriage. We have some serious communication issues that we’ll have to work through, and I think that’s why we’re both so confused. I don’t like talking about my feelings and he doesn’t know how.

Forget the online quizzes, forget love languages.

I know exactly what will show Lorcan how I feel.

Lorcan —

Fuck, that feels good.

It’s a little after one in the morning when I’m woken up, or so the clock in the dresser across the room tells me. I’m a pretty light sleeper and it’s not unusual for me to constantly be waking up in the middle of the night, especially when I’m sharing a bed with Elide who moves around nonstop in her sleep, but usually I’m not woken up like this.

What I initially think is another damned sex dream is reality. My body shifts as I groggily open my eyes to my dick hard and satisfied.

There’s not many feelings greater than having a beautiful woman sucking your cock.

Fuck.

The realization has me wide awake and looking down, where Elide is settled between my legs, her mouth taking in the length of me. I can see her perfectly clear, even with the lights off. At first, I think I’m still dreaming but I really fucking hope I’m not.

Even though I’ve had this dream multiple times and it always ends so damn good.

“Elide.” My voice is low and gravelly, rough from sleep. She looks up at me through dark lashes and grabs my base as her lips move up my cock.

“Shit,” I hiss, and I’m almost frozen in place out of both shock and excitement. I don’t want to jinx it, whether it’s a dream or not. Her free hand grips my thigh and her nails dig into my skin as her mouth comes free of me.

Looking me dead in the eye, she smiles and it’s something between sultry and shy that sets my whole body on fire. Her tongue slowly glides over the swollen head and I curse again.

My head falls back against my pillow as she takes my cock back in her mouth and starts bobbing her head. It’s warm and wet and every so often, her teeth graze my shaft. It’s exactly what I fucking like and I’ve never even told her.

My mind races back to this evening and the time before we went to bed. We ordered in and I picked it up on my way in from Vaughn’s. We watched a movie and made out a little, but I didn’t even so much as try to touch her boobs. And then we went to bed, and she fell asleep on my chest, just like she does every night. What did I do or say to entice her to finally touch me on her own? I come up blank.

I don’t fucking care what it was, not as her tongue swirls around the tip, feeling like wet velvet. I fist a handful of hair, getting it out of her face so I can watch as she goes down on me, mesmerized as I watch my cock disappear in her sweet mouth. She sucks me like she does everything else, soft and sweet at first, teasing me. As she works up to taking more of me, her free hand squeezes the base at the same time her teeth hit me again.

I hiss, my hold on her hair tightening, and her eyes fall closed as she moans. That sexy moan vibrates around my dick and I damn near blow my load right there, but I manage to hold it off, cupping the side of her face.

With her eyes still shut, Elide starts taking me deeper and deeper with each pass. When I feel the head of my dick bump the back of her throat, I’m powerless to stop the groan that tumbles from my lips. “Fuck, baby.”

My murmured praise spurs her on, which I fucking love. She doesn’t try to swallow my cock again, though I’m willing to let her try whenever she wants to give it a shot. Instead, she grasps the base, wrapping her hand around me and moving it up and down in perfect unison with her mouth, creating a long, wet tunnel for me to slide in and out of.

Her eyes meet mine and it’s almost as if I can read her mind.

Go ahead.

My other hand finds the other side of her head and I lift my hips, thrusting up into her waiting mouth.

I nearly lose control as her eyes roll back in her head. Every time I have imagined what this would look like, it hadn’t even come close to this, the real thing. She’s absolutely gorgeous with my cock in her mouth.

I thrust up again, and her tongue is going wild. I know I can’t hold on too much longer. My heart is about to explode from the anticipation. I set a steady pace, careful not to be too rough. I know my full strength and don’t want to scare her away, not just after she decides she finally wants to have her way with me.

I feel myself reaching that point the more I thrust myself in and out of her mouth. My calm, steady pace grows a little quicker and she moans again and again. I practically growl, every curse I can think of falling from my mouth as she grabs my balls and squeezes.

“I’m gonna cum,” I say, in case she wants to pull her mouth away.

She doesn’t.

Thank the fucking gods.

I shoot off into her mouth and she takes it all in with pride. A drip falls out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin as I work out my release. I can’t even speak, can hardly breathe.

When I’m done, her lips leave my dick and she swallows.

If I wasn’t already married to her, I would have asked her right then and there.

She catches the drip running down her chin with a finger and when she licks it clean, I grab her shoulders and haul her up my body, crashing my mouth against hers.

That was the best surprise, middle of the night blow job I’ve ever had, and believe it or not, I’ve had a few.

Hell, that might have been the best blow job I’ve ever had, period.

My hands cup her ass as I devour her mouth, my tongue brushing along hers. She bites my bottom lip and tugs, making me groan.

“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe when her teeth release my lip and she rests her forehead against mine. “That was…”

“Good?” She asks, biting her own lip now. She looks shy and sweet and sexy all at the same time.

“Beyond good,” I murmur, rolling us until she’s under me, my hips nestled between hers. My cock is still out, growing harder again by the second, despite my orgasm not even sixty seconds ago. There’s nothing between us but the little, cotton boyshort panties she wore to bed. “Beyond great even. Amazing.”

Her eyes are shimmering and it almost looks like she’s about to cry when she leans up and captures my mouth in a bruising kiss.

Elide has never kissed me like this. She’s kissed me softly and sweetly, she’s teased me with her kisses. I’ve even had her needy, horny kisses. But this…

She’s kissing me with a purpose.

And I don’t want to get my hopes up.

I’m aching to rip off her t-shirt and panties and get in that tight, little body, but I stop myself, not wanting to screw up whatever headway we’ve suddenly made. She just took a huge step out of her comfort zone to give me the best blow job of my life, so I don’t want to push my luck. Instead, while we kiss, I let my hands explore, touching, grabbing, squeezing, until Elide spreads her legs a little wider of her own accord.

I feel the heat of her through her panties the same second she feels me grinding my hard on against her. We both freeze, staring at each other, panting.

I have never wanted someone as badly as I want Elide. I want her mind, body, and soul. One part isn’t enough for me, I need all of her.

She puts a hand on my chest and I pause, thinking she’s pushing me away. But she says, “Lorcan, you’re shaking.”

Shit, I guess I am. “Yeah.”

She’s blinking up at me, framing my face in her hands. “Are you okay, what’s wrong?”

The words tumble out before I can stop. “I want to be the man you need, the man you want. I’m trying, it’s just…hard. This is such a different life than I’ve ever had, but it’s exactly what I wanted. What I needed. I just want to deserve you. I keep waiting to fuck something else up.”

“Lor, you haven’t fucked anything up.” Her arms wrap around my neck tugging me down so my body is flush with hers, almost completely covering it. It feels so right. “We didn’t have the best beginning to our marriage, but that’s the past. What matters is where we go from here.”

I nod and she kisses me, ensuring I believe her words. She starts to move beneath me, rubbing against my cock which is almost painfully hard again at this point. My hips start to grind in a slow, seductive circle against her as I run my hand down the length of her body, hooking my finger in the edge of her panties and tugging them down a few inches.

Her eyes flare in the darkness and her arms around my shoulders tighten. I tug them down a little bit more until I glimpse what lies beneath. I have to see it, I’ve waited long enough with only my imagination to hold me over.

My imagination did not do it justice.

I push myself back on my knees and Elide remains perfectly still against our pillows as I slip her panties down until they’re no longer a barrier. She opens her legs for me and I swallow. Her pretty, pink pussy greets me, and I can’t help but notice how smooth it is, as if she knew I’d be seeing it tonight.

She’s perfect.

I want to touch it.

I want to taste it, taste her.

I can hardly form a thought as I settle myself between her thighs and it looks even more beautiful up close. I take my thumbs and part her folds, memorizing every inch of all she has to offer. Above me, I don’t think Elide is breathing but I look up to find her watching me, cheeks flushed and lips parted. Another day I’ll have my fucking feast, I’ll lay her down and devour her, but right now…I have to be inside of her. My cock needs its release. It needs her.

I have to have just a taste, though. I can’t help it. I run my tongue between her folds as she gasps, then take her clit between my teeth and she whimpers. These little sounds of hers will be my undoing, my salvation. I suck it in for just a second and play with her with my tongue, and she’s so fucking wet that I can feel it on my chin. To no surprise, she tastes sweet as hell. Just as her hips begin to shift, as they begin to grind into my mouth, I’m back up on my knees.

I push my sweatpants down the rest of the way and her breathing hitches as she watches me become completely nude. It’s a silent request that she grants me as she sits up and lifts her arms.

With gentle hands, I take the hem of her t-shirt and pull it up over her head before tossing it aside, not giving a fuck where it goes.

I don’t move any closer.

I stare at the masterpiece before me.

Her entire body is perfection. I’ve seen glimpses here and there, especially in that bikini in the cabin, and seeing it is a dream come true.

But those tits.

Those fucking tits.

If the research team got one thing right from my application, it was this.

I’ve done nothing but dream of them since the day I met her. And it turns out my imagination is shit, because my wife’s breasts are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I don’t ask, I don’t say anything, I just lean down, taking one of her peaked rosy nipples into my mouth, my fingers finding the other. It’s heavy in my hand and I have the sudden image of my cock sliding between them.

Someday, maybe, but not tonight.

Elide whimpers as my mouth moves to her other breast, my teeth gently tugging on the sensitive nub. Her hand slips into my hair, tugging me up until her mouth is fused with mine.

After a minute of kissing, my restraint is hanging by a thread. I break the kiss.

“Elide…” I breathe, my voice desperate for her, my lips lingering on hers. I want her so badly.

“Yes,” she whispers, answering my unasked questions. “Lor, I want you, please.”

Restraint? Snapped.

Our bodies somehow get closer, melding together as soon as the words have left her lips. I press my cock against her warm folds and kiss her lips hungrily. “You're sure?” I whisper between kisses. “Please be sure…”

She reaches down between our bodies and palms my cock, rubbing the head against her wet entrance. I grab her hand from between us and pin it above her head, entwining her fingers with mine. My mouth claims hers again as I slowly push my cock into her, causing her to gasp against my lips.

I’m aware of my size. I’m also aware of hers. Although I have no doubt she can take me, I start out slow, gentle. There’s something intimate about it, that gentleness. I’ve never taken my time with a woman before. Now, I’m kissing Elide, trying my best to ease any discomfort while I hold her hand in mine as I slowly inch my way inside of her. I don’t ease in all the way, just enough for her to get used to me, and then I’m pulling my way back out and repeating the motion. With each pass, I go a little bit faster, a little bit deeper, until I set a slow, steady pace. Everytime I push my way inside of her, she gasps, but her lips never leave mine.

My free hand grabs her knee and drapes her leg over my ass. Her body moves with mine, perfectly in sync.

I don’t know what I’ve been doing for the last decade. There has never been a time that I’ve been with a woman and it’s felt like this. With Elide, there’s something deeper going on. It actually means something to be here with her, wrapped in my arms as I take my time fucking her. I know it when she looks at me and an unspoken conversation flows between us. I can feel everything she’s feeling, can sense everything she has to say, and I mirror every word, every emotion.

Sliding my hand up her curves, I palm her breast as I kiss her again. My tongue finds hers and she moans into my mouth. It sets me off. With a snap of my hips, I’m in her to the hilt, my cock unable to go any further. Her moan is louder this time, seductive and proud. I love that she’s vocal in bed. It makes me want to see just how loud I can make her. Next time, I won’t hold back.

This time, our first time, I just want it to be something that she’ll remember. I want her to know that I care, that this isn’t just about sex for me.

This connection between us, this has nothing to do with actual sex and everything to do with us tearing down our walls and finally becoming one. A truce, of sorts, of throwing our hearts in the air and hoping the other doesn’t miss it, letting it shatter to the ground.

I push her hair back off her face, wanting to see everything she feels. Her eyes are bright, her mouth open, lips parted in ecstasy. I look down, between our bodies, where we’re joined. The way my cock disappears inside of her in the most erotic thing over ever seen. She feels like heaven wrapped around me.

Her hips start to slowly move with me, her fingers of her free hand digging into the muscles of my ass and hips as small moans and sighs tumble from her lips. I let her set the pace and depth, wanting her to find her own release. Next time, I’ll make her cum so many times, she won’t remember her own name. She won’t remember any name but mine, but tonight, I want her to find that sweet spot and let go. And when she does, her walls contract fiercely around me and she hugs me tighter to her, whispering my name as I cum right alongside her.

My mouth finds hers in a slow, sleepy kiss, our tongues lazily stroking each other, as our breathing calms and settles, despite my cock still being buried inside her. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but when we pull apart, my lips are on her throat, her jaw, her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead—the need to make her feel cherished and to know that that wasn’t just sex for me. That it was more. I need to make sure she doesn’t regret what we’d just done, that she doesn’t regret finally tearing down her walls and letting me in. I’m guilty of not really being a gentle or sweet lover, especially when it comes to aftercare, but she makes me want to be.

We lie in silence afterward. Neither of us speaks and there’s no playful teasing like there usually is. The air feels charged between us, like something raw is there, something new. Her hands moving slowly over my body while I kiss her say way more than words ever could. She tucks her head against my chest, beneath my chin, and wraps her arms tightly around me like she's afraid I might disappear once she falls asleep.

Not a fucking chance.

I listen as her breathing evens out, as her body becomes a weight on mine, and I know she’s asleep. My hand rests on the curve of her ass and I drift off to sleep staring down into her gorgeous face.

I’m not exactly sure when it happened but slowly, everything in my life has become about her. It scares the shit out of me, but that’s what this study was about, right? Opening yourself to someone new, giving yourself to them completely.

I might as well change my name to Lorcan Lochan at this point.

Because I belong to her.

#elorcan #elorcan tddup #til death do us part #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lord lorcan lochan #throne of glass #sjm fanfic #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #snacmc collab

122 notes · View notes

kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck.

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky.

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same.

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment.

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position.

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two.

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close.

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself.

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you.

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual.

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him.

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes.

“You promise?” Conner urges.

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise.

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for.

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position.

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear.

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking.

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing.

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right.

“Why not?” Conner questions.

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast.

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable.

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it.

You answer with a snort.

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants.

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left.

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence.

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time.

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it.

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie.

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever.

687 notes · View notes

rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Until Death Do Us Part

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Sea Warlock!Akaashi, Mermaid Reader, Non-Con/Rape, Mind Control, Body Modification

Summary: As a little girl you’ve always dreamed of marriage, but maybe you should have been more careful of who you decided to exchange eternal vows with.

This is for @terushimooo's Aquatic August collab. Happy swimming~

You love Itachiyama, love waking up and seeing the endless sea of blue, love waving down at all the sea creatures, sirens, mermaids, and so much more who cheerfully greet you. You love Itachiyama and Itachiyama loves you, the citizens of your kingdom eagerly calling your name and shoving free samples of tasty food and merchandise in your hand as you swim by the marketplace, excited to interact with their favorite (and only) princess.

But as much as you genuinely love your realm, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, your sheltered life forcing your imagination to go wild as you listen intently to merchants and travelers from out of town who tell you about corners of the ocean and sea creatures you’ve never even heard of.

There’s a limit to how much pretty words and mental images can satisfy you and your cousins Sakusa and Komori roll their eyes and sigh when you begin to repeatedly try sneaking out from their protective watch, eager to experience what lies beyond the borders of your safe haven.

It’s a comic joint effort between the citizens, your cousins, and the royal guards as they all work to keep you as safe as they can. It becomes a game of sorts, one that they all begrudgingly begin to enjoy, and laughter fills the kingdom when citizens take turns cheering for you or your cousins as Sakusa and Komori rapidly swim after you, leaving ripples and bubbles in your wakes as your tails flick back and forth.

They’re hesitant to let you wander off on your own at first, the creatures of your realm and the palace guards begging you to at least let them accompany you when you’re insistent about exploring the surrounding areas. Sakusa scolds you, always dragging you back to the palace when you do manage to escape, although you hide your smile when you see how he wordlessly takes all your new discoveries from you and carries them back for you. Komori also nudges you back when he’s the one sent to find you, although he always lets you wander around for a while longer when he does locate you, indulging your whims before finally enticing you back home with the promise of a new seashell necklace, his treat.

But over time they begin to relax, just wishing you safe travels and exploring when they do see you ready to slip past the border, Sakusa and Komori reminding you not to stray too far and not to stay out too late when their schedules don’t permit them to leave with you.

You love meeting new people, exploring new towns, seeing the sights outside of the bubble you’ve grown up in. But novelty wears off and even the surrounding territories begin to become familiar to you, an old itch beginning to creep inside of you once again, a desire to see even more churning inside of you. And it’s that yearning inside of you that has you secretly wandering in a different direction one day, going far further than you’ve ever been before, leading you to Akaashi’s lair.

Akaashi sees you long before you even realize you’re in his territory and he’s intrigued to say the least. He can’t even count the number of greedy, selfish, desperate souls who’ve sullied his grounds, disgustingly groveling at his feet, whining for their wishes and desires to be granted. But you? You’re different. He can tell just by how unaware and genuinely curious you are as your eyes flit about the unknown area, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the site of different coral and species of fish you’ve never seen.

You’re not here for him. He’s sure you don’t even know exactly whose lands you’ve naively fluttered upon. And before he even realizes what he’s doing, his legs have transitioned into a mass of swirling tentacles, rocketing him towards your direction.

When’s the last time he’s talked to someone outside of the lowlife scum who begged and pleaded for his help? When’s the last time he was able to enjoy another’s company? The warmth of another’s body entwined with his?

There’s a painful tug at his heart when he sees how you tense at his presence, fear lacing your gaze when you connect the mass of glossy black tentacles on his lower half and his piercing blue orbs to his true identity.

It’s not hard to understand exactly who you’re face to face with, the rumors of the sea warlock’s appearance and reputation having spread far and wide. You’ve always been horrified by the stories you’ve heard. Maybe it’s because you’re far too simple-minded, far too easily satisfied as both your cousins fondly tease you about. But you can’t imagine wanting anything enough to give up your voice, your tail, your ability to love and laugh.

You know Akaashi only takes from those who seek his help, that you technically have nothing to fear. But you still cower in front of him, folding your tail in front of you and clutching it to your chest, a small silly part of you scared that he’d snatch it away from you.

The gesture makes Akaashi laugh and you stare wide-eyed at the handsome creature in front of you, your tail slowly flopping from your arms and floating freely as you let the lovely tinkle of his laugh echo around you.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on taking your tail. Unless you’ve come here for me to grant a request?”

You furiously shake your head from side to side, still a little apprehensive as he sends a small amused smile your way. But as he continues talking, you can feel the tension ease from your body, your body matching Akaashi’s pace as he gives you a tour of his neck of the woods. He’s so well-spoken, a soothing tone to his voice that easily lulls you into a sense of peace as you eagerly listen to him tell you about the local wildlife and terrain.

He tells you stories of worlds and creatures you can’t even begin to fathom. He tells you of life above the waters and in the sky. And you find yourself returning back to him over and over again, although it would be a lie to say it’s purely out of a desire to learn more.

Your curiosity is as insatiable as always, but you get distracted more often than not when Akaashi speaks. You get lost staring at that striking face and into those gorgeous eyes. Your eyes glitter in awe as he effortlessly transitions between gracefully swimming upon a mass of tentacles to fluttering two human legs in the sea, appendages you’ve never seen before.

You’re falling fast and hard for the sea warlock and you don’t think there’s any going back.

Akaashi knows there’s no going back.

He’d fallen for you the second you had opened up to him, the moment you had seen him as just another creature to befriend instead of a wish given genie whose only purpose was to dole out wishes. And he’s not ignorant to the way your eyes wander across his figure, his face, how you badly try to hide your growing attraction to him.

So it only makes sense that he doesn’t resist temptation anymore now that he knows the feelings are mutual and he hungrily lets his tentacles wind around your waist, pulling you towards him so he can embrace you in his warms, closing his eyes in bliss as your barely covered torso presses against his own bare chest. One of his hands snakes to unclasp your seashell top while his lips devour yours, sighing at how sweet you taste.

But he grimaces in displeasure when your tail begins to wildly flail from side to side, your hands annoyingly pressing against his chest. And he pulls back, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what’s wrong, only to scowl when he sees hesitation tinged with fear in your pretty eyes.

He thought you were far beyond this point. What is there to be scared of? Why are you so skittish? But he hasn’t gotten as far as he has by blowing his fuse so he forces his tentacles to relinquish you, lightly replacing them with his hands as he brings you over to his bed, letting you sit on his lap and tuck your head under his chin as he gently rubs his thumbs soothingly over your waist.

It’s a good sign that you feel comfortable enough to bury your face in his chest and he lets you sit there silently, waiting for you to speak up. And his patience is rewarded when you nervously draw aimless partners on his skin as you begin to talk.

He bites back a laugh when you ramble on about how you’ve never even had a boyfriend before, never done more than platonically hug and kiss your family and friends. This is all so new to you and isn’t it too fast, too soon? What even are the two of you? Does he even like you? Love you? You don’t want to be just a notch in his bedpost. You want to date, get married, have a family. Only married people can do the things...the things that…

You trail off in embarrassment, unsure how to even phrase things you’ve only whispered about in hushed voices with your friends, that you’ve never experienced for yourself before. But your face heats when a low chuckle reverberates in your ears, gasping when one of Akaashi’s hands digs into your skin, the other traveling sensually up your spine before roughly grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss that’s all heady hunger that leaves you breathless.

It would be so easy to just give in, to melt and moan as his nails threaten to pierce your skin, his arms caging you against him until all you can feel, see, and smell is him. Your tongues entangle with each other and you gasp when his fingers begin to slip under a seashell, the other hand teasing the transition of skin to scale. But when he begins to tweak a nipple and palm your ass, you’re jolted back to reality, the morals of chastity and purity you’ve been raised with battling against the temptation of Akaashi’s touch.

“Wait, Keiji. Wait!”

This time there’s no hiding his irritation and you flinch at the annoyance in his eyes as he stares you down, a coldness in his face you’ve never seen before. But you press on, believing that if he truly cared for you, he’d understand. All your girlfriends had told you that if you found the right one, they’d be patient, they’d wait until you were ready.

“I- I really like you, but I don’t think I’m ready for this yet. I want to go on dates, get engaged, get married. And maybe it’s old-fashioned, but I want our first time to be our wedding night, after we’ve said our vows and promises to be together forever.”

“You want to be together forever?”

Akaashi can’t help but smile at the hopeful look in your eyes when you nod your head in affirmation.

“Then until death do us part.”

You’ve always wondered what magic would look or feel like and now you know. You whimper as you feel something powerful, something foreign surge through you, Akaashi’s eyes glowing far more than they should, the shadows of his cave seeming to grow and loom over the two of you. There’s a searing pain on your lower abdomen and the expanse of your chest and you scream as it fills like your tail is being torn into two.

And suddenly there’s a feeling of something wrapping around your heart, an ache between your legs-

Your legs?

You stare in horror, tears forming in your eyes when you see your beautiful tail replaced by two legs, strange black markings permanently engraved over your womb, the scrawl of Akaashi’s name taunting you from its loving placement above your heart.

“Don’t cry, my love. Look we can match now. Consider it a reminder of our new beginning together, the start of the rest of our lives.”

This is a mockery of everything you’ve believed a marriage to be and you only sob harder as Akaashi pins you on your back, his legs in between yours pushing them apart. But he tires of your pained and agonized cries and you gasp as the new markings decorating your skin begin to glow blue. Fear is replaced with lust and all you can think of is Akaashi, all you want is Akaashi, all you need is Akaashi.

There’s just enough of your own will to know this isn’t right, this isn’t truly you. But you can’t do anything against your body and mind’s cravings, the way you instinctively lean into every kiss, every touch. Is this how it always feels? You can’t tell if the delirious pleasure you’re feeling is normal or if it’s being heightened by whatever incantation Akaashi has you under. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the details, not when your eyes are rolling back in your head, something slick leaking from between your new limbs as Akaashi makes his way down your body, mouth and fingers lapping at your new slit.

Your chest heaves, nipples standing at attention, gleaming with Akaashi’s saliva as your body contorts as he continuously pumps in and out of you, adding finger after finger until it feels like you’re going to burst. You don’t even recognize the wanton cries in the air as your own, lewd whines of “Keiji, Keiji, Keiji” filling the air. And then there’s a snap, your body going rigid as something coils tight inside of you before you’re wailing, body thrashing and convulsing around the four digits stuffed inside of you, your arousal coating Akaashi’s fingers and dripping down his wrist.

You hate how wrong it feels to be empty, a whine escaping your lips at the loss of his fingers as he pulls them out. But you flinch at the sight of Akaashi seductively licking his skin clean of your mess, desire making his eyes dark as he contently hums at your taste. You try to use his distraction as a chance to slowly crawl away, but you let out a surprised cry when strong hands drag you back in place, spreading your legs once again.

“We’re not done with our wedding night yet, darling.”

Something hard and thick nudges at your entrance and you struggle anew to no use as your markings glow blue once more. And suddenly you’re pliant and aroused all over again, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as despair and lust mix together, only heightening the dizzying feeling of having Akaashi’s cock balls deep inside of you. It’s too much, too soon and yet it’s not enough, desire pulsing inside of you, need making you go mad.

But it doesn’t matter what you want or how you feel and Akaashi reminds you of that as he uses your body to chase his own end, hips thrusting in and out of you, cock dragging against your oversensitized walls. On and on he goes, following through with a relentless, brutal pace, spurred on by your lewd moans and the way your nails draw blood as you claw at him, body trying to ground itself in any way.

You’re tumbling over the edge once more and what husband would he be to not join his lovely new wife over that precipice of pleasure? So he follows you down, groaning and burying his face in your neck with a kiss as he thrusts one last time, sinking deep inside of you as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

Reality sinks in as the blue glow emblazoned on you begins to dim until only skin and dark markings are left and disgust makes your guts churn. All you want to do is curl up into a ball. All you want is to be back home with your cousins, joking with Komori, being a brat to Sakusa. All you want is to go back in time, go back to the carefree days of innocence and fluttering your tail when Akaashi was just a faceless name.

But there’s no going back and all you can do is lie there and accept your fate as Akaashi reverently kisses and caresses his marks on your body.

Until death do you part.

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #yandere akaashi #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #tw: noncon #tw: mind control #tw: body modification #tw: yandere

700 notes · View notes

the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

#Feysand #prompt fill #pro Rhys #pro Feyre #fake dating kind of #Feysand fic #acotar #acotar fic #ask #not proofread sorry #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

157 notes · View notes

fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

pairing: james bucky barnes x male reader

req: yes | wc: 1.37 | cw: enemies to lovers, slight nsfw ending, swearing | 16+

anon: Can you write an enemies to lovers with Bucky Barnes and male reader with a slight nsfw? 👉👈❤ (if not then just an enemies to lovers👉👈❤)

a/n: enemies to lovers are amazing but hard to write

James Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier and bane of your existence.

You don’t know just why you hated him; in fact, you had some similarities, yet he still managed to piss you off just by breathing.

Everything about him was so damn irritating.

You’re sure he hated you too, but he never showed it as much as you did. You suppose that’s one of the ways he wins your arguments, he’s always calmer than you, less affected. He makes your blood boil but you can barely even make him mad.

Pathetic, really.

“What are you doing here?” You just wanted to train, you just wanted to go to the gym and work out in peace. Was that too much to ask for?

“Can’t I workout?” He responds with a roll of his eyes.

You despised that. Still, you had no real excuse to kick him out of the gym, nor did you want to leave just because of his presence.

As you do your thing, your weights, you can feel his stare on your back.

“What the fuck do you want, Barnes?” It’s until he’s looked you up and down that he snaps out of it. However, this time, unlike other times, he looks ashamed.

But he still bites his damn lip. “Spit it out.”

He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Spit what out?” His voice doesn’t give you any hints as to what he feels, and shit, you hate it.

“Whatever you have to say.”

He scoffs, “I have nothing to say.”

“Clearly, you do.” He groans frustratingly, pissed off by your bullshit. Still, he says nothing, gives you no insult, doesn’t tell you how angry he is.

“I don’t.” Even if he doesn’t voice it, his actions say everything. “Look, if my presence bothers you that much, I’ll just leave.”

“Good!”

“Good.”

“It’s his damn stare, Sam.”

“I know, right?!” Sam laughs. The Falcon had as much of a grudge as you did with Bucky, except they could cooperate with each other much better than you could. Still, you bonded over it.

“But, be honest with me, (y/n). It’s not just the stare, is it?” His tone is suggestive, in a flirty kind of way. You’re repulsed at the thought of being intimate with the Winter Soldier, but as much as you despise him, your chest also warms up. You hope for hatred.

“What ever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” He replies. The warmth in your chest increases.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Come on!” He gives you an accusatory look, with a smirk that you want to punch off his face. Why is Sam your friend, again? “He pisses you off on a whole nother level than he pisses me off. Even I can tell.”

“Ugh, well…” You began relaying everything you hated about him and what he did.

He was serious and headstrong, although humorous and reckless at the same time. All the things you hated about him were silly, but dammit you would stick with them.

His vibranium arm, it felt like a cheat code. You’re sparring, he beats you, you’re arm wrestling, he refuses to use his normal arm, you’re arguing, he threatens to slap you with it. It’s all because of his damn powerful arm.

At times when his voice is so expressionless, yet his face gives away everything. If he’s going to glare at you, he might as well straight up tell you everything he feels about you.

The way he bit his lip when he was holding back an insult, you just wanted him to say it. What’s holding him back? Is it that bad that he thinks it’s going to affect you?

And most of all, his stare. You hadn’t noticed it since Sam brought it up but every time you noticed it, it never failed to anger you. Without fail, he looks you up and down, sizing you up as if you were about to throw hands; hell, you wanted to throw hands.

“(y/n), buddy, pal, dude... I’m pretty sure that’s sexual tension.”

“What the fuck, Sam?”

“Hey!” He raises his hands in a surrender motion. “I hate the guy too, but that’s a different kind of stare. He’s checking you out.”

“Sam-”

“Ey, ey, hear me out here.” The statement is usually followed up by a lengthy and logical explanation, but Sam isn’t the most logical of people. He puts his hands on your shoulders as if he’s about to tell you his whole life story before saying, “You’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sam!” You groan.

He gives you an all-knowing look. “You know it’s true.”

You roll your eyes, shake off his hands and walk out the room angrily. As you do, Sam shouts at you, “You can’t run from the truth, (y/n)!”

You don’t know how you ended up here. You don’t know when you and Barnes got so close that you could see every little detail of his face. You don’t know why you needed to be up in his face in the first place.

All you knew was that you were angry and you wanted to punch the Winter Soldier.

“It’s not my fault you pushed me under a literal bus!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a literal supersoldier!”

This was why you shouldn’t be put in the same mission without a mediator, hell, just together! If it wasn’t for his mistakes, and if it wasn’t for yours, the mission would’ve been fulfilled.

Any other person would’ve been good for the job.

At some point, he slapped you - with his non-metal arm. At some point, you balled up his shirt and pulled him towards you so that you scream in each other’s faces even closer.

At some point, you stopped shouting.

Your talk earlier that week with Sam sprung back into your mind. God, that motherfucker was right. Bucky glanced down, at your lips. His eyes snapped up to your eyes just as quick but they kept trailing down then back up.

Normally, this would’ve pissed you off, but at the moment, you were doing the same thing.

“Fuck.” He mutters. The movement of his lips causes them to brush against yours… this was torture, it really was. You wanted to lean forward, kiss him; every fiber of your being told you to pull away, but everything told you to lean in at the same time.

“Fucking kiss me, coward.” That was your pushing point.

Despite you initiating the kiss, he kisses you with a fervor surely fueled by his anger. You don’t know how long it lasts, but by the time you pull apart, you’re both desperate for air.

“I like you, you idiot.” Bucky’s voice is softer now. His eyebrows furrow, though the gesture is no longer irritating to look at.

Instead of giving a reply, you kiss him again. His lips are gentle and tender, yet they’re chapped at the same time. It’s not a nice texture to be kissing, but you weren’t being nice either.

As you get lost into the kiss, your grip on his shirt falters. He takes both your hands, delicately, and brings them together to hook around his waist. His own settle on your hair, tugging you as close to him as possible.

“Do you like me too?” He sounds desperate.

“I-” Your chest warms up, like it always does around him; and fuck, you realize it’s not anger, but attraction. He looks absolutely beautiful. “Does the kissing not tell you enough?”

“No,” He doesn’t banter with you. “tell me how you feel.”

Your heart tells you yes, your brain tells you yes, you like him and you want him. “I like you.”

Bucky smiles genuinely, but it’s not long before his face changes entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, and he smiles lazily yet playfully as he hooks a leg around your hip and pulls you closer to him. The grunt you let out as your pelvises press against each other only spurs him on.

The only space between you two is now between your lips, but he’s soon to seal that too.

Neither of you care that you’re at an alleyway out in public, despite that, neither of you bother to move.

He wants your right here, right now, and nothing’s stopping him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x male reader #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #enemies to lovers #🧵nsfw⚠️#anonymousrequest

439 notes · View notes

zarnzarn · 3 years

Text

Stolitz fic rec!!

I'm going to just drop my favorite stolitz fics here.

They run at night by @wearemisfortune

Blitzo is always moving because when his body stops, his mind races. This almost always leads to a terrible fucking idea.

Tonight is no different—but the result will be.

-lovely angst, lovely climax, and it captures Blitz's line of thinking in a serious tone but in a way still feels authentic to the character. And I'm ALWAYS a sucker for the sheer unconditional trust trope.

Junctures by @sluttycrimehat

To everything, there is a season.

-I still am in complete awe of how the author managed to fit so much in such little time. The bit at the end always fucking gets me, I love it so MUCH.

The last general by @curtailed

It's in a month after, with Stolas spent and lying on his side, that Blitzo finally musters up the courage to tell him.

-Hello??? BEAUTIFUL post-harvest moon fic, wonderful vibes, love how well they know each other in this one, the trust is amazing. Love it.

You got everything that I want by @bipridemoth

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him.

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas.

-Stolas angst!!!! The angst really is delicious in this one, with just as nice of a happy ending. Blitz is confident about the relationship, which is Wonderful to read and the "I know where this is going" segment had me in TEARS.

Between fairy tales and realities by @coloringthegreyscale

Blitzo's a complicated imp and Striker and Stolas accept that. But what happens when the two worlds he's made for himself collide together for one night? Well...

-Okay, so yes, this is striker/blitz/stolas, but it's so good. All three of them have a lovely dynamic, managing to work out somehow, with powerful Stolas, wonderful Blitz and a HILARIOUS Striker. Go read the series, it's a lot of fun and has many cute interactions that made me smile.

The look by @seireileafy

Blitz has been noticing a change in Stolas.

-It's such a CUTE drabble, I adore when one person can tell the other is pining for them, and the LAST LINE FUCKING GETS ME EVERY TIME-

Instead I made my bed with apathy by @thebooklord15

Just like every night before this one, Blitzo glared at the form next to him, already lulled into the bliss of slumber. He had never meant for things to turn out this way-he’d gotten the grimoire already, he didn’t need this man and from the way Stolas treated him it was clear he did not need the imp either.

And yet.

-Jcjdkafj this one is so GOOD I love blitz being pissed off yet too deep in to stop, and like I've said for others already THAT LAST LINE, PLEASE-

Call and response by anon

It was a love story, maybe.

-short but deliciously angsty, with some beautiful imagery, really nice dialogue, and time-doesn't-exist-in-this-motel-room vibes. Love it.

Shovel proof by @kereea

Octavia tries to give Blitzo the shovel talk. He decides to help with that.

-FUCKING cute, love the Octavia/Blitz dynamic, and it has snappy fun dialogue!! Really sweet.

Reaching out, touching me, touching you by @allmightshipserasermic

Stolas hasn’t been able to preen sufficiently in quite awhile, since Stella refuses to do it for him anymore. Blitzo offers to help.

-PREENING FIC is there anything more I have to say?

The skin you could have by @coloringthegreyscale

Stolas catches Blitzo staring and it leads to some talk, some magic, and a little bit of fun.

-Again, BEAUTIFUL dynamic between the two, lots of angsty tenderness, and lovely body imagery.

Different shapes by @sirdust

“Before the exorcist, he taketh the image and shape of a man.”

Blitz catches a glimpse of Stolas’ human form.

-okay, practically a direct opposite of the previous fic, but SO GOOD, I can't describe it. Love the imagery and their comfortable relationship.

A helluva mess by @stratumgermanitivum

It’s not like Stolas isn’t a hot piece of ass, because he is.

And it’s not like Blitzo’s blind or anything, because he isn’t.

It’s just that there’s pleasure, and then there’s business, and never the twain shall meet. (Unless he finally gets Moxx on board with that threeway, in which case, Blitzo fully intends to christen every damn surface of the office except his precious Loony’s desk.)

-AMAZING, love the pining and denial on both sides it's so great especially since you can tell both sides know that they've messed up. Again, LAST LINE!!

Eat the whole cake (it's what you deserve) by @okoyik

"His Highness is on the phone for you, sir," Moxxie says.

Blitzo makes a face. "Who?"

"Stolas," Moxxie supplies, as if that's supposed to help Blitzo understand. His expression is surely one of complete confusion as he stares at the other imp.

"Who the fuck is Stolas?" Blitzo asks slowly, racking his brain for a face to put to the name.

Blitzo's memory starts to slip, and all he knows is he needs that owl that seems to haunt his nightmares to stay away.

-HELLO it's only on one out of four chapters for now but it's already SO GOOD I can't WAIT for the rest!!!

Stand tall, but your hands are shaking by @remymorton

It’s been a month since the Harvest Moon festival. Another full moon night arrived, and after that... Blitz ... He's not well.

-wordless cute comfort, truly very sweet, I love it.

Palaces and souvenirs by @cloudysonder

So Stolas is objectively. Objectively. Attractive. Kinda soft-looking, sometimes. Pretty. Whatever. Fuckin’ whatever. That’s always been a thing. Blitzo knew that, Stolas definitely knew that-- whatever.

"This is not," Blitzo thinks, sounding a little bit desperate even to himself, "some sort of revelation."

His flicks of the lighter get a little more unstable, a little more frustrated.

A clawed hand reaches over and takes hold of the lighter, lighting Blitzo’s cigarette with practiced ease, as if he’d done the same thing a thousand times before (He has, Blitzo realizes).

“Silly Blitzy,” he giggles quietly, giving Blitzo a soft pat on the head before curling up beside him, stretching one last time before closing his eyes to sleep.

Blitzo feels warm.

"This," Blitzo tells himself, and it sounds like a command, "will not be a problem."

-I saw the start of this fic on Twitter and have been following it religiously ever since. It's really a gorgeous fic, three chapters up, with the promise of a Great slow burn, fun dialogue and Octavia & Blitz bonding. The level of denial Blitz is in even as he moves comfortably around every aspect of Stolas' life cracks me tf up.

Can't by @hazbincalifornia

Blitzo realizes he feels something something that he doesn't want to feel. This was supposed to be simple.

-feelings realization fic, wonderful, amazing, lovely, also the exact same way I realized I was gay, funnily enough (girl fell asleep in my lap and I was like oh. Oh fuck.)

Too late to stop by @malkaviancake

Stolas spends some time with his thoughts, realizing that his feelings for Blitzo aren't as one sided as he presumed.

-GORGEOUS vocab, I'm truly very obsessed with it. Like most of these stories, LAST LINE!!!!

Itchy with want, thin on sleep by me

It happens in parts- both falling in love and having his eyes opened.

-I will,, finish this one day, but for now here's a few in between moments before they have The Conversation.

Heaven in hiding by me

Their nights together are good, they always are, both of their tastes lining up to be shockingly compatible, but on the days where they end early and they get to spend some extra time cleaning up in comfortable silence or playful banter- and Blitz would rather take a bullet than admit this out loud- but those nights are pretty great too.

-AFTERCARE FIC, I had to write an aftercare fic ft. Good dom Blitz, Stolas taking care of him in return and a comfortable relationship that they both know is going to cause Problems in the future :)

Love in the bones and sinews of this curse by me

Five times Stolas and Blitz needed the grimoire to break a curse + one time they didn't.

-self explanatory. I tried to make it as funny as possible, everyone bickers a lot and Blitz brings Stolas flowers and gifts, what more could you need?

Life is a curse (love makes it worse) by me

"Alright!" Blitz says, clapping his hands together, "Weapons out, and-"

Half pull out some gun or the other, but half just look at him blankly. Blitz wishes for death.

"Save me from this family," He mutters under his breath, "Okay. Take these then." He passes out the few weapons he'd brought along with him and doesn't ask if they know how to use them because if he hears a no, he's giving up and going back home. "Stick close and talk loudly so the others can hear us. Let's go."

They move out, Blitz taking the lead and the rest forming a circle close behind him, starting up a loud conversation about the neighbour's garden. It gives him enough time to wonder exactly what the fuck he's doing here, in a nightmare world with a bunch of pretentious snobs, searching for his stupid Ars Goetia boyfriend, instead of sleeping in his nice lumpy bed back at home.

-a sequel to the previous fic!!! I had to write some Octavia and Blitz bonding, and accidentally added in a bunch of teenage imps who work for Stolas who imprint on Blitz immediately. And there's Eldritch Stolas, protective boyfriends and found family!!! The whole shebang!!!

This ended up being Much longer than I'd expected, but genuinely every fic up there is really good, go check em out!!!!

#stolitz #blitz #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss #PHEW im exhausted #stolitz fic rec #stolitz fic recs #stolitz fic #helluva boss fic rec #my fic #i mean i put some of my fics up there so #also to all my mutuals in this post ily #stolas x blitz #stolas x blitzo

303 notes · View notes

ushidoux · 4 years

Text

Hesitant (Ushijima x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3350 words (I can’t believe I wrote this much)

Summary: You find out why Ushijima has been a little hesistant about things getting too steamy between you. NSFW.

A/N: This is awkward af and quite cracky but hopefully in an endearing way.

---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was essentially perfect.

Just the right amount of unexpectedly charming and unintentionally hilarious, the man had a way of tugging at your heartstrings with even the most basic gestures. The way he reached for your hand instinctively when you met up with him after your college courses, the softening of his usual glower as he turned in your direction in response to your voice calling his name, or the short but sweet morning texts - all things that made your heart swell for him.

He was straightforward and most importantly, explicit with his actions from the very first moment you got involved. You never got the impression you were being strung along and despite how hyperaware you were about the ills of the current dating landscape, not once did you consider the possibility of getting ghosted or benched.

Weeks then months passed and you fell fast for him. You were in love.

In love with everything: his facial expressions, whether serious or smiling, his dedication to his craft, his warm, large hands, the timbre of his voice and the way it softened especially for you...

He was perfect.

But when your third month anniversary (not that you were keeping track, of course) came and passed and you had not yet had that kind of intimacy, you could no longer ignore the ache in your core he left you with after his lips parted from you minutes into a deep, passionate kiss...

Or worse - when he came from behind and held you tightly around the waist, the familiar but not-familiar-enough bulge between his legs pressing against your lower back and demanding your attention in a different way Toshi did.

In mere moments, every touch went from wanted and appreciated to craved and needed, and it began to hurt.

Why was he holding back?

“T-toshi?” You mumbled, interrupting your makeout session by pulling back from him as far as you could with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mm…?” His eyes connected to yours then slid back down to your lips, wanting, waiting for you to continue. Was he actually listening? You weren’t quite sure, but his hold on your hips firmed, keeping you steadily settled in his lap. He rested his chin on your shoulder, making sure to keep you close, and you could feel his heartbeat, slightly quickened as he waited for you to speak.

You wished he would look at you when you asked this next question but instead you pressed your cheek to his.

“Do you find me attractive?”

Your voice came out somewhere between soft and assertive, and you could feel Ushijima tense ever so slightly before straightening his back so that he was looking straight at you. His hands didn’t move from where they rested on your side and he remained very still, as he did often when he was unsure of what to do next.

His face remained unreadable and the behavior didn’t reassure you.

“Well, do you?” You pressed, your voice smaller this time.

“Why do you think otherwise?”

His deep voice was almost as quiet as yours, and he sounded almost apologetic. You felt a small weight land in the pit of your stomach, embarrassed to have made the mood so awful. But you couldn’t help what you wanted. You could feel that familiar heat rising within the space between your legs, and your breathing was getting quicker and raspier, and his hands had been roaming... A large hand had slipped under your shirt, then under your brassiere to palm and caress a breast, and suddenly his tongue was down your throat, and you knew soon he would stop and you would be left to smile and bite your lip while he hastily made up an excuse to leave.

Was it you? Was it him?

Your arms slowly slid down from around Ushijima’s neck and dropped into your lap. A small frown crossed his face very briefly in response and he gently withdrew his hands from where they held you.

You sat quietly together for a moment as you attempted to formulate words to express how you felt. Horny? Yes. Desired? You weren’t sure, and that was the issue.

“Sometimes, I feel like…,” you trailed off, carefully scrutinizing Ushijima’s face for a reaction. He continued to watch you cautiously, and you grimaced before continuing. Confrontation wasn’t your strong point, but communication was a must.

“I feel like things escalate and then… stop.” You paused there, and he tilted his head slightly. You mentally scolded yourself, knowing very well that you weren’t doing a great job of making sense, but in that surprisingly intuitive way of his, he seemed to know exactly what you meant.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he said, slowly.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you repeated, warmth flooding your cheeks once again. “U-unless you’re not ready to, you know, have sex... I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to coerce you into doing something that you don’t want to do, I just-”

You were interrupted by Ushijima’s hands finding their way back onto your hips again, and then standing you up completely straight so that he could rise to his full height. Seeing him tower over you now suddenly, you swallowed hard once. He could be so intimidating without meaning to, even if he was unequivocally sweet with you.

He let out a wistful sigh and ran a hand through his hair with his eyes closed before refocusing his gaze back onto you - you who were now standing awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for him to decide to either tell you he was interested in touching and kissing but not outright having sex with you (but maybe some day!) or to just walk out the door never to be seen again without even bothering with an explanation.

Instead, he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, to your surprise.

“Wait, Toshi! Now?” You almost shrieked as he almost hastily undressed his lower half in the middle of your apartment without a single qualm. He was already unfastening his belt before he stopped to look at you - a good thing because your heart was now beating so fast in your chest, you were sure you were going to become lightheaded enough to pass out.

“We can if you want to. I’ve wanted to for a while now,” he replied, and to those simple words, your heart started to flutter and both elated and aroused you were again.

“The problem is, I was, and still am, a little worried that I might hurt you,” he started, and you wondered why he would be concerned about such a thing up until his pants dropped to his ankles, and your eyes grew wide as you realized what the limiting factor may have been. No wonder he had been avoiding sex for so long.

“I’m a bit large down there, it turns out.”

Large is an understatement, you thought, your eyes glued helplessly to the thing hanging between his legs. For the second time tonight, you swallowed hard - for once, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

---

One very efficient store trip, a couple extra-large condoms, and a generous amount of lube later, you knelt across from Ushijima onto your large bed, your heart pounding again. Both of you were now stripped down to the bare flesh and while you wanted to drool over the sight of his bare chest and indulge in the feeling of his weight pressed against your body, you found yourself movement paralyzed, unsure of what to do next.

You had felt silly asking him to redress again so you could go out and buy supplies, but the truth was you needed time to come up with a game plan. Anyone who saw that monster cock for the first time would take a pause. Would you be able to take all of that? Could anyone take all of that?

“___, are you okay? You’re staring.”

You were trying to figure out if the condoms would fit him, then thanked the heavens that you were on the pill anyway if the condoms broke by any chance. When he waved his hand in your face, you were brought back into the reality of the here and now. You nodded, but the thinly veiled distress on your always expressive face was starting to remind him of the many locker room jokes and nicknames he’d endured once he’d reached the end of puberty.

Spear Ushijima was the first to come to mind and he grimaced, then rested back into a sitting position, cross-legged on the bed.

“We don’t have to do anything, I understand.” he said, flatly. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed it, concerned that he would look too upset. He smiled now instead to mask his disappointment and reached his arms out for you.

“We can cuddle. Oh, but if you would prefer that I put my clothes back on, I could do that too,” he said hurriedly, getting up to make his way off the bed, but you interrupted him by moving close and pressing a hand on his chest.

“Wait.”

And his surprised expression turned to another smile, more genuine this time, and he relaxed into your touch.

“___,” he whispered your name softly. You smiled, then keeping your eyes in fierce contact with his, you reached down to wrap your fingers around his considerable length. Even only semi-hard, the girth was impressive and you could feel the warmth shuttling in as he became aroused. His mouth parted just slightly in surprise.

“Are you sure?” His voice was already thick with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, “but we’ll have to take it slow.” You added a smile to that last part and leaned forward to peck him on the lips once before you started to stroke him up and down his shaft.

He let out a soft moan and leaned back, watching you carefully as you worked your hand up and down his penis. You could tell he was trying very hard to keep still and let things run at your pace, and you relished in the opportunity fully.

“That… feels really good, ____,” he offered, his voice low and husky, and encouraged by his words, you added another hand, offering a few more pumps to his length before the piece de resistance to your lovely handjob, the application of your soft lips to his waiting cockhead.

He was already leaking a little precum, you could tell by the salt on your tongue as you licked at the slit at the tip of his member. He let out a low groan, and you could feel his muscles tense beneath you as he rose quickly.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-” he started, but you wouldn’t let him interrupt what you had going on.

“I want to, Toshi!” You exclaimed, almost indignantly, and as if to supplant that claim, you descended as far down his shaft as you could go in a fluid motion, but then to your misfortune, you must have triggered your gag reflex because you choked once then twice, and pulled yourself back to cough once more.

“Babe, are you okay?!”

Ushijima shot up like a board to hold you steady by the shoulders while you coughed, and as tears started to form in your eyes, you took one glance at his intense look of concern and you burst into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?”

You doubled over onto him, laughing even more against his chest, which only made him more concerned as he wrapped you in his arms.

“I told you this was dangerous and this is why I held myself back, ___.”

You pulled back once more, tears welling into your eyes as you finally said through snorts:

“Can you PLEASE stop acting like your dick is a lethal weapon?”

The look on Ushijima’s face was that of such extreme shock that you were pretty sure you would never stop laughing, that your fate was now to perpetually cackle until you died of asphyxiation. He frowned again, and you felt just a little bad but still the mixture of stress and confusion and awkwardness and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation rendered you unable to stop.

And finally he added, “It might be funny to you but I’ve never done this before.”

That sobered you up enough that you actually did cease chuckling, and with a final, unintentional chuckle, you faced him seriously this time, your faces only inches apart.

“Is it really your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another silence hung in the air, maybe because it was hard for you to believe that no one had ever touched him in this way or maybe because despite the fact that he looked either mildly irritated or severely embarrassed, you could still feel his erection hard against your lower belly and you weren’t sure if that meant you should continue (and to be honest, you really wanted to) or that sex was off the table for the time being.

But his arms were still wrapped around you, and you could feel the thump of his heart against your chest, and you wanted him, and you believed he wanted you too, and suddenly it was silly that you had been so intimidated in the first place.

Again you were caught staring into his eyes, and you felt warm again - different layering types of warm.

“Do you want to continue?” The two of you asked, almost in unison. You could hear the hint of persuasion, the please say yes in his voice.

You smiled, and pressed your lips to his again, and a hand went into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and a hand went around your waist, securing you firmly against his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your tongues danced together again, and when your hand found its way again around his member, he tensed for a moment, but then in a decision to ignore his reservations, broke your embrace to pepper kisses along your neck and into your bosom.

You moaned and arched your back, gripping his member just a little tighter, and he took the opportunity to circle his tongue around your nipple before taking the mound in your mouth.

Consumed in the feeling of him suckling you, you were unprepared for the thick fingers that found their way around and then onto your clit, rubbing gentle circles that sparked waves of pleasure through you. Another moan escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and then he slid a finger inside you, pressing just hard enough and in just the right place that you jerked almost violently against him.

His finger slipped out almost as fast as it had gone in.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good!” You reassured him. “P-please continue.”

He nodded, and replaced his finger, pressing more gingerly this time, using the slowing and deepening of your breaths to guide him. You occupied your mouth again with kisses along his collarbones, onto the expanse of his broad chest, pressing your breasts against him, rolling against him. His breaths also started to slow as he fell in rhythm with the way your hips moved, and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he flipped you over onto your back so that you lay beneath him.

A pause.

His olive eyes scanned you ravenously, and you could hear the hunger sealed within his breathy sighs, as he hovered over you. Your half-lidded eyes, your body warm and receptive and waiting for him, stating in every way possible that you wanted him - it was like a dream for him. He had wanted this for so long, to know what your insides would feel like around him, to know if he too, could make you scream his name in pleasure not pain, to do what his friends and teammates did with their partners, and now here you were, laid out for him like a whole meal.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t look down at the warm, throbbing length resting on right on your pubic area, but instead at him, your gentle giant, and nodded.

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes and shivered ever so slightly at the sensation of lubricant being slathered right at the opening of your vagina. You could feel him repositioning himself right at your entrance, and trying to stay as relaxed as possible for him, you waited for him to enter you.

And he did, interlacing fingers with yours as he broke through your sopping entrance, feeling your hold tighten around his and hearing your breath hitch then relax as his cockhead made it through you.

Then he stopped so you could adjust to the stretch, and he rested on his elbows, trying to rub the wince out of your facial expression with a caress of the cheek.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Keep going.”

He pushed a little further and you uttered another low moan with the painful, yet pleasurable stretch, and he almost felt guilty for how good you felt around him, how desperately he wanted to fill you up all at once, how aroused he was by the sound of your whimper as you felt him.

“K-keep going,” you mewled as soon as he stopped to let you adjust, and he worried that he really would tear you apart this time, but you clung to his chest again and his desire to go as far into your guts as possible was too much for him to bear.

A groan and he was in almost to the hilt, and he wiped the tears forming in your eyes as you endured the searing pain, the pressure of him stretching you to your limit. The fact that he wasn’t moving was starting to become excruciating for you, and you began to squirm under his weight, indicating your wishes.

“Are you okay, my love?” He murmured carefully.

“Toshi, m-move, please…”

He obliged, withdrawing just a bit to crash back into you, and you cried out but not in pain, in a strangled cry of pleasure.

“Toshi!”

Again!

He could hear the cry for more in the way you said his name and the force with which you dug your nails into his back and again he obliged, thrusting into you again, and you could feel your head spin.

Again!

He settled into a rhythm and stroke after stroke you could feel yourself wind up, your cries and moans and grunts of pleasure loud and clear for him, for all to hear.

“Toshi- ah~!”

His pace quickened every time you called his name and his angle changed so that he was deep enough that it was almost uncomfortable (almost), and he was now grunting, sweating, making sure to leave no part of you untouched. Your thighs clamped around his waist and you muffled your cries into the meat of his shoulder, clinging to him so tightly you thought you would meld into one.

Ushijima was moaning your name now, enthralled by the way your insides, your outsides clamped onto him, claimed his body for you, and he couldn’t believe he had been nervous about this part of the relationship, you had been perfect every other way…

Your coil snapped suddenly, and your orgasm rippled through you like electricity, and now he was muffling your moans with his tongue down your throat, fingers wrapped firmly around your jaw keeping you in place.

“You came?” He whispered in a gruff voice, now into the space between your breasts, his dick still throbbing and twitching within you. The thrum of yes vibrating through your body brought a grin to his face.

He rose up off your body again so he could look at your eyes, glazed over in a love-drunken haze, and finally, he was no longer concerned but confident - dare you say it, cocky - as he hovered above you.

“Let’s aim for at least twice tonight.”

A promise he kept.

The first time would be a time to remember, in more ways than one.

#mae.writing #daddyjima #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #not sfw #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #wakatoshi #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!

964 notes · View notes

yamag00ps · 3 years

Text

safekeeping

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: friends to lovers, love triangle

contains: fluff

word count: 1.1k

summary: bokuto and akaashi talk about you on the car ride home.

note: here is part 2 of first names! I decided to continue. enjoy :-)

part 1, part 3, part 4

The rest of the car ride consisted of you speaking a majority of the time while the other two listened, though you just assumed it was due to the long day of shopping. As the car stopped in front of your apartment, you reached over your seat to hug Bokuto goodbye and ruffled a hand in his hair. You and Akaashi stepped out of the car as you gathered your shopping bags.

“Do you need any help?” Akaashi asked.

“Nah they’re actually really light, but thank you!” You hugged him too. Akaashi took his seat and shut the door as Bokuto rolled down Akaashi’s window.

“Bye Bo!” Bokuto smiled at the nickname you gave him.

“Bye Keiji,” your gaze lingered a second longer on Akaashi as you put a knuckle out, waiting for him to return the punch. It was your subtle, yet innocent way of acknowledging the newfound closeness between the two of you.

Akaashi slightly winced at his first name, choosing not to look at Bokuto’s expression this time. The two of them waved as they waited for you to get into the building before driving off.

Thankfully, Bokuto spoke up before an awkward silence could take over. Bokuto has always been very open about his emotions, which Akaashi was particularly thankful for at this moment.

“So… Keiji, huh?”

“Yeah, about that.” Akaashi was ready to tell his best friend everything until Bokuto continued talking.

“I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a slap in the face,” he nervously laughed, “It came out of nowhere! I don’t even call you that!” Bokuto’s seemingly lighthearted demeanor put Akaashi on edge because for once, he couldn’t tell if it was a front or not. But Akaashi genuinely chuckled anyway, remembering how it began in the first place. All he had to do was be honest.

“It started out as a joke. We were arguing —well, she was arguing— about whether or not the chicken or the egg came fir—“

“The chicken.” Bokuto stated matter-of-factly. Akaashi laughed at this.

“..Yup. She made that very clear.”

“The theory of evolution, right?” Bokuto grinned at this memory while Akaashi’s smile faltered.

Oh.

“Uh, yeah,” a nervous chuckle escaped Akaashi’s lips. It was his turn to feel a slap in the face.

Bokuto didn’t mean to hurt Akaashi by revealing that he already had a similar conversation with you. And it shouldn’t be that surprising, Bokuto knew you first.

So, why did Akaashi feel a bit hollow all of a sudden? It was a feeling similar to growing attached to a stray puppy, only to find out that its owners were looking for it. Or also kind of like when someone sends you a Spotify playlist titled, “for you” only to find that it already has 7 followers. Whatever it was, it was unpleasant.

He also couldn’t settle on an emotion. Was he sad? Jealous? Did he somehow feel played, even though he’s sure that wasn’t your intention? If Bokuto noticed the change in his expression, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“We learned about that in our bio class last year. The chicken or egg debate got her pretty heated and for some reason, I found that so attractive,” Bokuto shook his head and laughed. “I then learned that she wasn’t even a science major! That was probably the best part.”

This memory was enough to convert Bokuto back to his normal self, temporarily forgetting about the use of first names. Akaashi, on the other hand, felt the tension thicken internally.

He stayed silent, only politely chuckling here and there, wanting nothing more than for Bokuto to stop elaborating on his feelings for you.

“I don’t think I ever told you, but she used to scare me! She was so smart— is so smart. And, don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful, but after hearing the way she spoke? That’s what really got me, dude.” He shook his head in disbelief at how smitten he was. “I was actually annoyed that the professor made us change the subject because I could’ve listened to her all day.”

At this point, Bokuto was too caught up in the memory of you to notice Akaashi’s discomfort. This was the most he has heard of his best friend’s feelings. Before today, all he knew was that Bokuto had taken an interest in you and enjoyed your company. Yes, Bokuto talked about you occasionally, but Bokuto also had a lot of crushes, so Akaashi rarely took his friend’s pining seriously.

He continued, “You know, I think I’d pay to listen to her talk about the different species of.. I don’t know.. Grass.” Akaashi snickered at this. “I don’t know, I’ve never met anyone like her man.”

This time Akaashi sighed and responded honestly, “I can say the same. She’s funny.” Bokuto laughed and agreed.

Hearing Bokuto confess that all he wanted to do was listen to someone speak was new, seeing as he was usually the most talkative one in any room.

“Why haven’t you confessed to her?” Akaashi finally asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. Bokuto thought about this for a bit. His best friend had a point, he normally had no issue going after whoever he took interest in.

Bokuto thought back to the memory of hearing you speak in class -- the way your voice refused to waver and the way you stood your ground over something so silly. He remembered you glancing at him, waiting for him to chime in like he normally would. Any other day, he would’ve joined the conversation, but for the first time, he found himself incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Because for the first time I’m actually scared to be rejected,” Bokuto admitted.

This sheer honesty only made Akaashi feel worse -- the two of them growing more fond of you by the minute. Relief washed through him as Bokuto answered a phone call, not giving Akaashi the chance to respond.

Well.. shit.

What was Akaashi supposed to tell him now? He didn’t even know if he, himself, genuinely liked you yet, did he? Though it wouldn't be that shocking if it turned out that he did, he decided he needed more time to sort through his own feelings. Maybe he simply felt comfortable with you and it was nothing more. Maybe.

He closed his eyes and ignored the sweet aftertaste of your first name lingering in his mouth, and the way that nothing has felt more natural than your hand in his. He shook the memory of his fingers tracing his name onto your back and the way you tried not to melt into his touch. He attempted to shut down the desire to hold you in any way you would let him and mentally discarded the image of you glowing in the sun the first time you used his given name. He especially tried to forget how he was so sure that whatever higher power designed the sun probably used you for reference.

Akaashi shoved all of this information far away into an imaginary filing cabinet in his head.

You know, just for safekeeping.

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

a/n: I decided to continue this! yay! I am planning on adding more, but I can't promise how soon I'll get to writing it. please be patient with me <3 (find me on ao3!)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu fluff #love triangle #friends to lovers #haikyuu imagines #haikyū!!

157 notes · View notes

cycat4077 · 3 years

Text

Real Talk

Words: 1639 Warnings: angst Pairing: Sonny x Reader AO3 here

This idea popped into my head after that phone call Sonny received which seemed to be a date. So, ignore the fact that we know that the person on the other end was Nicole. 🙃

Part 2

---

You had met Sonny at Fordham while taking your law degree. A few classes together and the two of you, with a couple other people, hit it off. Yes, you were part of that group Sonny mentioned to Amaro. The group that he went bowling with. In fact, you were even one of the “pretty girls”. However, that’s where it stayed. You and Sonny often bounced ideas off one another and studied for exams.

Any girl would be a fool to say that they didn’t have a crush on Carisi at least at some point, and you were no different. But the thing was, your friendship meant so much more. It was uncomplicated. Just two people who supported one another; borrowed ears to let off steam from time to time.

When graduation rolled around though, you and Sonny saw less and less of one another. His detective gig left him such little free time to begin with that without classes, it was virtually impossible to find the time to get together. And, as so often happens, the texts and calls grew fewer and far between until six whole years had come and gone.

That all changed however, when you walked into the Manhattan DA’s office to cross reference about a case that you were working in Brooklyn. You could recognize that lanky, well-dressed man anywhere. He was speaking to a colleague, using his hands like he always did to get his point across. Your heart rose to your throat.

“Sonny?” you speak up, but you already know the answer. He swivels on his heels to face you, his features easing and eyes lighting up upon recognition.

He crosses the room in just a few long strides, a huge smile plastered on his face. He speaks your name and scoops you into a hug. It catches you by surprise at first, but the warmth of his arms around you – back around you after so many years, makes you genuinely happy. “How are ya?” he exclaims. “It’s been too long.”

You make small talk for a little while, catching up on what you’d missed. Sonny was an ADA now, finally biting the bullet and moving on from SVU. You tell him that you’re working in Brooklyn, not on criminal cases, that was always more Sonny’s speed, but still enjoying the career that your time at Fordham had awarded you. It was decided that you and Sonny needed to make grabbing coffees and lunches a regular occurrence, and so the two of you reserved a space in your calendar for the first one of many.

It was nice to rekindle that friendship. For all the time you knew one another at school, you had always had one another’s backs. There were never any judgements and the two of you could talk about anything and everything. Sonny would always make sure you were doing okay, seemingly knowing just when you needed him to talk to. This dynamic worked both ways too. It used to be that Sonny would phone you up, sometimes in the middle of the night, because he had come off a particularly hard case. You always picked up and it was that mutual friendship and care that got you both through many tough times.

Unfortunately, in those six years, that type of relationship was something you hadn’t found since. Seeing Sonny again made you realize just how much you had missed him. Not to mention that he had gotten more handsome and impossibly sweeter. You hated to admit that there was a flutter in your stomach every time he would smile and a heat that rose to your cheeks when he’d give you a quick peck as a friendly hello.

Little did you know that Sonny was starting to feel that way too and, after a few months of coffee and lunch meet-ups, he invited you to have dinner with him. You suggested a place, one of the few restaurants which were open for dine-in and one that you loved.

Was it a date? You weren’t exactly sure, but you worked up the courage to make tonight the time to tell him how you felt. You put forth extra effort in your appearance, styling your hair and slipping into a nice dress. Stepping in front of the mirror, you take a deep breath and tell yourself that it’s now or never.

Then your phone rings. It’s Sonny. You pick up and greet him, smiling.

“Hey,” he says. “I just finished my paperwork n’ am ready ta leave.”

“Great!” you say eagerly. “I’ll call to confirm our reservation -”

“Ah, that sounds great,” Sonny sounds in your ear.

“- and I’ll make my way over there.”

“Ah, that sounds great,” he says again. His voice sounds genuinely excited. “Listen, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Sounds good, Sonny.” You take a breath, softening your voice. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, me too.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“See you soon. Bye.”

“Alright, bye.”

A fluster of nervousness and excitement churn in your gut as you grab your coat and purse and head for the door.

---

Arriving at the restaurant, you’re taken to a table out of the way in one of the back corners. All the better to have a conversation, you think to yourself.

Just as you’ve gotten comfortable, your phone rings again. Sonny Carisi flashes on the screen. Your heart rises to your throat, unsure why he would be calling. “What’s up?” you answer.

“I’m gonna be late,” he begins apologetically. “Rollins had a family emergency and I was helping her take care of a few things.”

“Oh, okay,” you stammer out, slightly confused. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, I will. See you in a bit.” The line clicks off.

Amanda Rollins. A major figure in Sonny’s work life. His partner as a detective and still a member of the squad he tries cases for. Many the times you had heard about Rollins: how hard she had things, her problematic family, her daughter Jesse. And each mention of her would be rooted in Sonny’s desire to help her out somehow. Cook her dinner or help her with her baby. He’d tell you how great of a detective she was and how she, too, had his back.

However, Sonny could be gullible. He made decisions with his heart rather than his head and sometimes that let people take advantage of his kindness. So, you were often cautious on his behalf when he’d tell you about the things he did for Amanda. Sometimes it seemed that she, whether intentional or not, would accept Sonny’s kindness without giving him much in return. And by the way he used to talk about her, you suspected he had developed some sort of feelings for her. But through these conversations, he also invertedly revealed how she kept him at arms length. Now, from Sonny’s phone call, you suppose that things had never changed.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity, the waiter returning to check in on you a few times, until finally you see him round the restaurant corner towards your booth.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins, taking a seat. “Rollins – her dad had a stroke n' she needed ta fly out immediately. I arranged for her mom to watch her kids n' informed Liv what was goin' on. I feel so bad. I mean, she’s been through so much n' she really has no one…” He looks up at you then, noticing your attire. His eyebrows lift as he drinks in how pretty you look. But your face tells a different story.

You feel so disappointed. Not in Sonny, but rather, in yourself. You thought that the history you shared would bring you closer together. A solid and mutually supportive friendship was something you longed for in a significant other. Something for love to build off of and grow. Now though, seeing how Sonny was still holding out hope for Amanda, still giving her every ounce of himself with little in return, you couldn’t take it.

You catch Sonny’s gaze. “It was silly of me to think that this was a date.” Your voice is quiet, sadness brimming your words.

He stares back at you confused. His brow knits, “No!” he begins, the realization hitting him. “It was – is a date!” He reaches for your hand, placing his overtop. “I asked you here because it felt so good to reconnect with you. I missed you. We get along so easily and it’s nice to have someone to talk to again. I always thought you were attractive too, both physically and intellectually. When we were at Fordham we were always just friends but seeing you again and having you back in my life, well, it made me feel something.”

Sonny looks positively hurt, yet he understands how all this must seem to you. “I missed you too, Sonny. So much,” you reply, voice a little unsteady. “And I care about you more than you could ever imagine.” You give his hand a small squeeze and he closes his eyes for a moment, knowingly. “Except, I can’t be a placeholder while you wait for Amanda to come around. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you either, but that decision has to come from you.”

There it is. All feelings laid bare. There’s nothing more you can say. You have and always will support Sonny and you always will be his friend. However, those lines between friendship and something more were starting to blur and before you give your heart away, you need to know if Sonny truly wishes to accept it.

Sonny studies your face, his mind racing. Then he looks down, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know,” he says running a thumb along your knuckles. "I know."

---

Tag list? @barbasbodaciousbeard @adarafaelbarba @teamsladsandgents @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner

❤

#This was a rough idea #Literally written in about 3 hours #Forgive any mistakes #Please love me #No hate for any ship #Just love for Sonny #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #Svu s22 e10 #Svu spoilers #sonny carisi x you #Law and order svu fanfic #my fanfic

101 notes · View notes

lovenona · 3 years

Text

it’s here, it’s wild, and it’s fun – welcome to “what happened after the art show” featuring everyone’s favorite menace art student ryomen sukuna (previous installment here and full universe here)

(note that this does contain some references to explicit content – it will be clearly marked within the text)

now that i've captured your attention: there are a myriad of ways this could go, really. let’s start with the basics.

first things first: while the thought of scratching up geto’s stupid little car sounds awfully appealing to you, and while you simply wanted to accept the offer for the sake of sukuna’s unusually kind gesture, you also know that you don’t want some serious claims filed against you. geto’s a prick, as you’ve learned, and it’s best to keep things civil.

so you politely tell sukuna as much, and while he might tease you for being a coward, you know there’s no real malice behind that impenetrable voice of his.

but the night is not over! sukuna will take you to his car, then. it’s vintage and black and a little beat up and there’s miscellaneous art supplies and tattoo reference books strewn across the backseat, but it smells so distinctly like sukuna that it feels strangely like home. he controls the music, of course, blaring indie and punk with his windows cracked so every stoplight can hear. (he has a preference for wolf alice. he thinks the lead singer is hot.) and even better, he’s got a smirk, a real one, as he drapes one hand across the steering wheel and the other on the glove box between you.

(you think you’d like his hand to reach further. but you’re still technically in recovery mode, so of course you won’t say it, not yet.)

your earlier sadness melts away with every minute you spend in sukuna’s car. he’ll take you for a drive without needing to ask. he can read the vibe – it’s you. you don’t want to go home, you don’t want to go out, you don’t want to be anywhere; so he’ll keep you in that liminal space, driving in circles and turning down strange roads whenever and wherever he feels like it. he’ll pass familiar buildings on campus to make a silly little quip, drive past the grocery store to watch students filter through with their reusable grocery bags, drive past the parks that loom in the dusk shadows. you don’t need to talk, and neither does he. it’s quiet, strangely, but a silence so comfortable you hardly notice it.

and, frankly, the most realistic ending to this night would be that sukuna drops you off at your apartment complex and lets you go home for the night with a final joke. but, of course, i know that’s not why any of us are here.

so, of course, let’s go to sukuna’s place, instead. it’s an expected gesture, almost, and you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when you see the familiar building come into view. you’ve been to his apartment a few times now, and it’s a place you’re beginning to learn like the back of your hand.

at this point, your night could go one of two ways. you may now choose your own adventure: safe and fun or sex and spice?

safe and fun: (mentions of alcohol)

you’re stumbling through the door with sukuna, arguing with him as you always do, only to find yuuji and his crew in the living room playing god-knows-what on the xbox. they’ll wave you in with a casual vigor, their loud and raucous behavior making sense once you see the array of empty white claws on the table. (many of them are mango. it’s yuuji’s favorite flavor.)

“you’re back early,” yuuji tells sukuna with a loopy grin, a grin that suggests something unspeakable as he wiggles his eyebrows. he looks at you with that dopey little smile and you roll your eyes.

“the art show sucked,” sukuna responds, scrunching his nose and heading to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. “you fuckers still drink that shit?”

sukuna, you know, hates white claw. he’ll only drink hard alcohol, mixed drinks, things that make him feel like a man. you’ve seen it firsthand countless times by now.

“you’re fourteen minutes older than me,” yuuji whines. “don’t act so high and mighty, old man.”

so sukuna will make himself a drink – a real drink, he clarifies – and offer you a glass almost instinctively. your fingers brush his as he hands you the glass. something electric runs across the surface of your skin, rustles your bones. you make eye contact, and it’s a thousand lifetimes unsaid between you.

(you wonder if you like him. you don’t know.)

so the night passes: you watch yuuji and his friends try and struggle to complete the missions in their silly little game as sukuna sits next to you, flexing his biceps as if he knows you’re watching from the corner of your eyes. megumi yells at yuuji who yells at nobara, and while they offer to let you play, you simply cannot break the connection between them. you like the way yuuji laughs and the way nobara smiles and the way their presence is like a soothing balm, cool and collected.

it’s strange and comforting all at the same time, this newfound ease you feel as you settle back into the couch, your drink sweet on your lips.

the night is a warm lilt; the silly party plays their games, you watch, sukuna acts indifferent to the spectacle and threatens to return to his room at any moment. you know, though, that he’s enjoying himself, even if only because of his posture and the smirk ghosting his lips. it’s wonderful and mundane and in this moment of pure domesticity, you can allow yourself to forget the night’s events entirely.

you hardly remember silly geto now, you do. you know you’ll be angry as all hell when you see him in class but for now, here, it’s okay.

and when you fall asleep, slowly, suddenly, someone – you think sukuna, but he insists he didn’t – tucks you beneath a layer of warm blankets. it’s a warm night, a comforting night, one that feels like a kiss to the forehead. you need it.

(you think sukuna really does kiss your forehead, too, but you don’t know. when you wake on the couch the next morning, you wonder whether it could have all been a dream.)

sex and spice: contains nsfw, slight dubcon (both characters are tipsy but very much consenting and happy with their situation), oral (f! receiving), sukuna being a tease

oh, but the second option. you’ll stumble through the door in this life to find that yuuji’s not home – the apartment is dark and quiet and full of a tension you cannot name. you’ll become hyper aware of your actions, suddenly, shyly, taking note of the exact way you take off your coat and shoes and leave them in the doorway. sukuna feels incredibly present and you don’t know why. you’ve been alone with him before, but perhaps it’s different when you’re alone like this. when it’s his home, his couch, and not a classroom. it’s different, now, when the chances of being seen by strangers have decreased significantly.

you’ll warm up slightly, though, when sukuna offers you a drink in that teasing voice he always uses when he wants to fluster you. he’ll fix the drinks with a bartender’s ease and sit down on the couch, throwing an arm back, letting his bicep tattoos flex in the golden glow of the living room.

it’s so quiet, and you’re trying your best, really, but you don’t know what to say. you’ll put the television on and sukuna will find something you both know you won’t watch but lets you ease the strain. you’ll make fun of it, he’ll make fun of it, and you’ll slide back like molasses into the lazy semblance of friendship you’ve cultivated together.

and it’ll be easier to feel normal, too, once you’ve had a drink or two – your tongue loosens up, and you find yourself able to say things to sukuna that you’ve never said before. you find yourself forgetting that you’re alone with sukuna in his house, and that you are suddenly and absolutely nervous in a way you have never been before.

“so tell me,” he’ll ask, turning to you on the couch, brave and arrogant with a dark and stormy in his system. “how was it?”

you pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. “how was what?” you’ll purse your lips together and suppress the butterflies in your chest. you wonder just how long you have thought sukuna to be attractive.

he’ll shake his head. “fucking geto, you idiot.” plastered across his face is the smirk you’d know with your eyes closed. he leans in, slightly, not enough to terrify you but enough to leave you struggling to form a complete sentence as your brain shuts down.

but you’ve had something to drink, too, and while in daylight you would have ignored his question entirely, brushing him off as a perv and a jokester, you can’t help but think there’s something different in the aura of the room tonight. you can’t help but be honest.

“it was fine, i guess,” you tell him. you shrug your shoulders and look back towards the television. you pretend you care about what you see.

he smells like something smoky and earthy today. “fine?”

you try to make a joke, but your head is spinning from his undivided attention. you do not know what you are anymore. “are you always this interested in my sex life?”

sukuna, surprisingly, grins with genuine amusement. “no, but geto gives off the vibe of a limp dick film boy, and i wanted to know if it’s true.”

“limp dick film boy,” you repeat, and a hearty laugh escapes your bubbling chest. you feel your inhibitions melt away, and your secrets fly out of you, the horrifying experience of the art show fading behind you. you’ll deal with geto in class, you think vaguely. at least he never said your name.

you sigh, forgetting him like a bad pun. “i mean, i guess it was fine. i don’t know.”

“you don’t know.” you can’t tell if he’s being condescending or if he’s genuinely concerned for the state of your pitiful sex life. “did he at least give good head if he made a fucking sculpture about it?”

“what?” your heart stops, your face is hot, your brain on fire. it’s not that he’s crossed a line, you think, but that that question opens something deep and unspeakable and strange. “no?” you don’t know why you answer, but something within you tells you that you must. something tells you that the world is shifting, and you must follow.

“he didn’t?” you feel the couch shift as sukuna shifts closer. “what kind of fucker doesn’t? it’s common courtesy, you know.”

“he didn’t want to,” you respond, but you don’t know what you’re defending.

“and if i do?”

you freeze. one of sukuna’s hands traces your shoulder like butterfly wings. it must be the rum talking, you think, because there’s no way sukuna would want you. it wouldn’t make sense, certainly, you rationalize. he must be out of his mind, this must be a joke –

“you still there?” a finger taps your forehead.

“yeah,” you respond, returning to yourself. you curse your flailing heartbeat. you turn to look at sukuna, so close to you, and you’re met with the terrifying depth of his dark gaze. you have never seen this gaze, this look that places you at the center of the universe. your breath nearly catches in your throat.

sukuna leans in. so do you, instinctively. you disregard geto and the sculpture and everything that came before. this, you think. this is what it should have been like. you’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time he kissed you months ago. you’re overcome with sensations you cannot name, an ache that builds and spreads through your belly. perhaps you’ll regret it tomorrow. but now, here, you want it more than anything.

“you don’t have to,” sukuna says. his breath is hot on your cheeks.

“i want to,” you say, and it’s a kiss for the ages.

so he’ll push you backwards to lie on the couch, and his shirt will be off and disregarded before you can think about it. you’ll trace the tattoos on his broad chest, lines and patterns you’ve never seen until now that you will never be able to forget. you’ll memorize the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the smooth metal of his tongue piercing sending shivers down your spine. it’s messy and crude and everything you would expected it to be – neither one of you is willing to give in to the other. neither wants to admit this is anything more than a challenge.

(you’re in heaven, though. geto who?)

and fuck, god, the look he gives you as he asks if he can take your pants off now: you’d paint it, frame it, place it in every art museum in the world if you could. it’s the second time you’ve taken your clothes off for someone in your life and while it’s strange and weird and sukuna, it feels right at the same time. he bites your neck when you left your hips to slide the clothes off you body and you feel dizzy with hunger.

sukuna loves to tease. he’ll make his way down your body slowly, tantalizingly, sly, and you swear you’ll lose your mind if he waits any longer. and when he looks back up to meet your eyes, with that lustful, dangerous, blown-out gaze, you know you’re fucked. you know you’re fucked when you realize it’s ryomen sukuna hanging out between your parted thighs, asking for consent before he places a soft kiss to your clit.

and you know, you know bitterly, that this would have been the most mind-blowing sex of your life had the key not turned in the lock because yuuji decided to come home early.

so you scramble to get your shit together, angry and disappointed. and even though you’ve regained your clothes and your dignity before yuuji can even remove his shoes and make his mindless way to the living room, you cannot quell the fire that grows within you. you cannot stop the hunger that has already begun. and sukuna knows it, too, because his eyes have not lost the look of a predator looking for prey.

(and, you notice, because his dick is still hard.)

he looks at you, and you look at him. he leans in, grins, whispers, “my room?”

#xoxo #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen.sukuna #artist!jjk #letters to adele

124 notes · View notes

the-gay-prometheus · 3 years

Text

Frankenstein AU Segment: “Always You”

I promised some gay shit today so have some gay shit.

Warning: it is extremely gay, I think.

This lil segment is Henry and Victor being silly and dumb and not realizing until just now that they are desperately in love with each other, and I think that is very gay of them.

Anyways actual little mini warning for this one: Victor refers to his assigned gender at birth and also mentions his deadname at one point in this segment. I know for some trans folks, reading things where a trans person makes a reference to their AGAB and/or their deadname it can be triggering, hence why I’m making this warning just to be on the safe side. The entirety of this segment is genuinely wholesome though, so no other warnings needed to my knowledge.

On a completely different and random note, “In A Week” by Hozier is officially Victor and Henry’s love song, and no I will not be accepting constructive criticism on that.

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are greatly appreciated!

~~~

The peaceful song of crickets chirping was interrupted only by the occasional trilling call of a boreal owl which seemed to echo across the cliffs and peaks. Above the gnarled branches and wispy needles of the pines the moonless sky was illuminated by uninterrupted glimmering starlight. Victor and Henry lay atop a massive boulder they had climbed in the midst of the woods, savoring the moment alone together as they stared up through the canopy above into the shimmering heavens, each with their hands folded over their chests. Though Henry was entirely still, Victor tapped his fingers against the back of his other hand as he picked through the millions of thoughts racing through his head. “You shouldn’t stay,” he mentioned suddenly. Henry glanced over at him. After a long pause, Victor continued. “I mean you shouldn’t stay here. You’ve… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“So do you,” Henry answered, turning onto his side and resting his elbow on the stone and his head on his palm. Victor turned to look at him.

“No, not really. I made my choice, Henry. I made a mistake, and this is my burden to bear - not yours. You shouldn’t be throwing your life away for my sake.”

“Victor - you know I’ve always got your back,” Henry replied, giving him a comforting smile. “I really don’t mind it.”

“I know that but… it’s not fair to you.” Victor rested his head back and stared up to the sky, and Henry laid back to do the same. “You should be finishing your studies at Ingolstadt, or traveling the world, or finding some beautiful woman to settle down with.” Henry tensed as he spoke, but didn’t answer. “I’m thankful that you’re here with me, and it really has been wonderful and I can never repay you for how much you’ve helped but… it kills me to think I might be causing you to miss out on all the things you wanted in life.” There was a long moment of silence between them, and Victor began to grow restless, tapping his fingers against the back of his hand again. “Do you… not agree?” Henry tensed more, then let out a sharp exhale.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Victor blinked, then turned on to his side and sat up slightly.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “It’s… not like I really have anyone to divulge it to other than… well… you know who. And he certainly doesn’t have anyone to divulge it to.” Henry gave him a half smile, then turned his hazel eyes back to the sky.

“Victor I… I have-” He hesitated. “I’m… I mean I- I’m-” He pinched at the bridge of his nose, then dropped his arms to his sides. “I have no interest in women.” Victor glanced over at him, then lay back down and returned his own gaze to the stars.

“Oh.” Henry cringed, expecting some kind of other reply, but relaxed slightly as Victor spoke again. “Well… that’s fine. You still shouldn’t stay. I know you always wanted to finish your studies and travel the world at least. I don’t want to hold you back.” Henry swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

“That’s not what I mean Victor.”

“Then what did you mean?” he asked, glancing back over at him.

“I… I have no interest in women because I-” Henry hesitated again. “My only interest lies in… other men. It… it always has.” Victor looked upward once again.

“Ah.” His eyes widened. “Oh!” Henry cringed at this response. He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid but… part of him was terrified. Victor suddenly sat up, a look of revelation on his face. “That��s a possibility?” Henry’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at him.

“You say that like you didn’t know.”

“Well- how was I supposed to know? It’s not like I’ve ever... seen it before.” Henry gave him an odd look.

“...What about Percy and Alex?”

“Who?”

“Back in Ingolstadt? Your classmates? You can’t tell me you didn’t know. It was obvious! Not… that they were necessarily public about it, and for good reason, but the way they looked at each other and talked to each other, there was no way they were anything less than lovers.” Victor frowned and glanced over at him.

“You assume I paid any attention to my classmates.” Henry blinked.

“...Oh. Yes that… that’s certainly a good point.” He shook his head. “Regardless! Why… why wouldn’t it be possible? If a man can love a woman, why can’t he love another man?” Victor thought for a moment.

“Well this… this changes everything,” he muttered, eyes still wide. Henry glanced away, suddenly worried again.

“...How so?”

“Well - it means I’m… I’m not broken!” Victor exclaimed, suddenly grinning. Henry snapped his gaze over to him.

“What?” Victor turned, sitting fully upright with his legs crossed and his fingers tapping excitedly on his thighs.

“Henry. After all I’ve done, after everything I’ve made of myself, after all the changes, there was one thing that always continued to irk me. I have changed my name, altered my body, filled myself with the correct chemicals, and yet despite all of that, one thing never changed. Even though I had finally become the person I knew I needed to be, I still was attracted to men!” Henry’s own eyes grew wide. “I had simply chalked it up to being some sort of strange flaw, that maybe I hadn’t perfected myself enough, that I hadn’t entirely rid myself of my… my…” He hesitated, as though he didn’t want to say it. “My womanhood - but no! Perhaps it has nothing to do with my sex!” Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at that statement.

“You really thought your attraction was tied to your sex?” Victor shrugged, then nodded, prompting another quiet laugh from Henry. “Victor, have I ever mentioned you are by far the most intelligent imbecile I know?” Victor smirked.

“Not in those words exactly, but something akin to that, yes.”

“Victor Frankenstein, ladies and gentleman, brilliant scientist capable of creating life from death, entirely incapable of understanding human attraction,” Henry announced sarcastically, throwing his arms wide as he spoke with a big grin. Victor snickered and batted his hand away.

“Oh hush, Henry, the poet who couldn’t figure out the difference between a daisy and a dandelion,” he mused in return. Henry sat up.

“Hey! I know the difference! I just… got the names confused!” he exclaimed. Victor laughed, and flopped back onto his back, Henry laying back down beside him.

“Sure you did,” Victor retorted with sarcasm, glancing over at him. The two regained their composure as their giggles faded back to quiet smiles, though Victor’s smile quickly faded. He let out a sigh. “Well… regardless, Henry. You really should go. Go study, go explore, go find a kind man to settle down with. Live the life I’ll never get to have.” Henry’s own smile faded as his mind suddenly raced, trying to think of how to respond. “I’ll be ok here on my own. I promise.”

“But… Victor I-” Henry’s heart began to pound in his chest. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, he repeated in his mind as his pulse quickened. Despite the repetition, though, he glanced back over to Victor. His breath caught in his throat. “I’ve already done those things.” Victor looked over at him, confused, his own heart seeming to skip a beat.

“...What do you mean?”

“Well… I’ve travelled - maybe not around the world, but I traveled to Ingolstadt. I may not have finished my studies but I certainly came close enough. And…” He turned his face away. “I’ve… I’ve already found a kind man to settle down with.” Victor felt his heart shatter in his chest upon hearing those words, and he turned away.

“...I see,” he muttered dejectedly. “Then you should go to him. Go to him and live your life with joy.” Henry looked back over at him, feeling terror clawing at his chest as he mulled over whether he should or shouldn’t reveal himself.

“You… you don’t understand Victor.” Victor turned back toward him, his own eyes already starting to fill with tears of worry. “It’s… it’s you. It’s always been you.” Victor blinked away his tears, his eyes widening as he suddenly felt as though his heart stopped. He was frozen - stunned - and his face turned bright red as he blushed. Henry, seeing this reaction, grew tense and turned away. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry I- I didn’t mean to make things strange between us. I shouldn’t have said anyth-” He was cut off as suddenly he felt Victor’s fingers upon his cheek, gently coaxing him to return his gaze to him.

“Henry I… I misspoke,” Victor whispered softly. Henry clenched his eyes shut, fearing the worst. “When I said I was attracted to men, what I should have said was… I am attracted to a man.” He hesitated as Henry slowly opened his eyes. “It was always you, Henry. Always.” For a moment the two stared deep into each other's eyes, their fears falling away as they finally began to realize the intensity of the connection between them, until Victor suddenly pulled back and gave Henry an odd look. “Wait. No- no. You’re lying. You have to be lying.” Henry’s eyes widened with shock.

“I- Victor I just bared my soul to you. Do you genuinely think I would lie about something like that?”

“Well… no. But it makes no sense. If you always knew you were interested solely in men, then how could you have always been interested in me? Good god Henry, when we first met I wasn’t even Victor, I was Emily Frankenstein, the strange girl who refused to wear a dress and practiced needlepoint while sitting out in the mud!” Henry’s shock dissolved into a short huff of laughter at the memory of seeing that younger, drastically different version of his boyhood crush, with long, frizzy dark brown hair (a far cry to his now short and messily cut hair) sitting in the mud by the lake wearing boys’ clothing while intently working on an embroidery that read ‘Alchemy is Relevant’ with the symbol for the philosopher’s stone above it - young Victor’s way of spiting his father.

“You know how you thought you were flawed because somehow despite everything you still felt attraction toward men?” Henry asked. He paused, then smiled. “Attraction to me, I guess.” Victor frowned slightly.

“Yes?”

“Well… that’s how I felt when I first met you. It was so bizarre to me. Up until that point, I had never understood the other boys my age, all pining over young girls while I was admiring which of them was the most handsome. And then I met you, and even though I was so sure of myself and who I was, you turned it all on its head. For the first time I wasn’t just admiring, I was fully, deeply enthralled by someone. I simply chalked it up to the fact that, perhaps this just meant I finally found the right girl, like my father always said I would, and that maybe everything I thought I knew was wrong. And yet… I continued to find myself admiring only other boys my age, and no other girls. I was so deeply conflicted - until that day years later when you returned after having run away and confided in me that you had come to realize you were never meant to be a girl at all,” he explained. Victor’s expression softened.

“So… what you’re saying is… you… you knew all along? Before I was even aware of my own identity?” Henry thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Come to think of it, I suppose maybe I did! I’ve… never really thought of it like that before.” Victor stared at him for a moment, then lay back again, smiling brightly. Henry smiled back at him, and lay beside him again - though moving a bit closer this time.

“Then I suppose we were never broken after all,” Victor remarked. “All this time, we knew each other far better than we ever realized. I’ve never much believed in soul mates, but… considering this evidence, I’m almost considering rethinking my stance on that,” he concluded half jokingly.

“You jest, but… you have to admit it might have some merit,” Henry pointed out as he stared calmly up at the sky. “How truly remarkable that the stars should align for us to meet, that the strings of fate should tie us together so neatly and that we should lead each other, even if unknowingly, into the light that is living our truths. We may have no evidence for the existence of some higher power, but there is proof that the world works in mysterious and wonderful ways that even science cannot define. Our very existence is such a specific rarity, a mere blip on the scale of time, and somehow here we are, together, here, now.” Victor turned on his side, lifting himself up slightly as he stared in awe and admiration as Henry spoke. “We are miracles, Victor, common miracles yet miracles all the same. There is so much we have to learn and to discover about the world and about ourselves, and how brilliant it is that we should have the chance to do so together, and to lift each other up to be the very best versions of ourselves that we can be. We-” He suddenly was cut off as Victor was suddenly leaning over him, propping himself on one hand that rested on Henry’s other side, his light brown eyes staring down into his hazel ones with a gaze of pure wonder. He shuddered, his heart suddenly fluttering in his chest as he looked up at him, and he gasped softly as Victor placed his unoccupied hand onto his cheek and brushed a long strand of ginger hair away from his eyes.

“Is it too early?” Victor inquired in a quiet whisper. Henry pressed his face into Victor’s hand.

“Too early for what?” Victor hesitated.

“Is it too early to say I... I-” Henry grinned, breathing deeply and slowly shaking his head as he lifted a hand and placed it on Victor’s cheek.

“I love you too,” he murmured. They stayed frozen for a moment, silence returning between them as the creatures of the night continued to sing their songs and the trees creaked softly in the breeze. As they searched each other’s eyes for some unspoken answer to some unheard question, it was Victor who suddenly leaned down, his pulse racing as his lips locked with Henry’s. At first Henry’s eyes widened, but his eyelids fluttered closed as he lifted his hand higher and gently gripped Victor’s short, messy brown hair between his fingers, softly pulling him in closer. Though it only lasted a moment, it felt like a blissful eternity before they slowly broke away, both of them shaking with the joy and excitement of it all. As Victor lay back on his side, he wrapped his arm around Henry tightly, and Henry moved closer, wrapping his own arm around him. They lay contentedly in each other's embrace, silently staring at one another as though there was nothing else in the world they’d rather see than each other’s eyes. That was, until, a sudden cry from just outside the forest jolted them both upright. Victor let out a soft sigh, and slowly started to rise to his feet.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered disappointedly. Henry gave a sympathetic smile as he stood as well.

“No, I’ll come with you.” Victor hesitated a moment before descending the boulder and landing on the ground with a soft thud, Henry following close behind.

“You don’t have to. I’m sure it’ll only be a moment,” he mentioned. Henry took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“And I don’t want to lose a single moment to spend with you,” he murmured, leaning forward and tenderly kissing Victor’s cheek. Victor blushed and smiled sheepishly.

“If you insist-” He was cut off by the sound of a sudden loud sob. “Come on. It sounds like one hell of a nightmare,” he mentioned as he began to lead the way back to their cabin home.

“Sometimes I think you make a surprisingly good father, despite everything between the two of you,” Henry mentioned as they exited the trees. Victor gave a contented sigh as they came upon the dwelling and he reached for the door.

“You really think so?” he asked quietly as they walked in and continued toward where they could hear his creation now quietly crying inside. “Well… at least I won’t have to do it alone now.” He paused just outside the door to the creature’s room, looking back at Henry. “You will stay, won’t you?” Henry chuckled softly, gripping Victor’s hand tighter.

“Oh, Victor,” he murmured, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his. “From the day I first got here, I never wanted to leave.”

#frankenstein au #trans victor au #victor frankenstein #henry clerval #clervenstein #head empty clervenstein thoughts only #High-key considering creating a redbubble and making an 'Alchemy is Relevant' t-shirt design akdbjhbdvjdhbjhvbjdfvhbf #also those of you who read 'We've Got Work To Do' will recognize that I have changed Victor's deadname-#this is because I decided that Victor would have wanted to make his name as different from his deadname as possible-#so Victoria would not have worked. I thought a while about names and ended up with 'Emily' because...#A. Emily Frankenstein flows pretty well.#B. Emily - Elizabeth - Ernest. Y'all already know Caroline would.#Not that it really matters of course. But I've been trying to think it through so I can more accurately build an AU version of his childhoo #clervalstein

51 notes · View notes

readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you can do Kakeru Manabe dating Momiji’s twin sister. She was also born with the zodiac curse, and like they tell everyone and are ready to tell Akito and he doesn’t improve, how would everyone react? Including Manabe. Would they defend her and try to make him agree to them dating? Thank you if you read this have a good day or night sjsnsnsj 😅 ALSO IM SORRY IF ITS TOO MUCH DJDKWNDK

Heya! While I do write for Fruits Basket (thank heavens for another fandom in my inbox for once lol) I write reader!inserts not the story of your OC that you don’t feel like writing out yourself. So what I will do is write a Kakeru Manabe x reader story with a character that has the zodiac curse, but otherwise there will be no Momiji’s twin, because I sure hope that the OC has more of an identity than just being a copy of Momiji.

A/N: Of course I write a Fruits Basket piece on the eve of Lunar New Year. 😅😅😅 HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE. 🐮🐮🐮

Fandom: Fruits Basket

Character: Kakeru Manabe

Prompt: Sohmacursed!reader

He slept in the flowerbeds without a care. Earning complaints from many. The school council president dared to roughen him up in public, earning a surprised look as the image of prince charming broke. He did everything differently and earned no ire, only more fans for the actions he took. Kakeru Manabe was a strange individual that went against the grain and that had your attention. Someone who was capable of pulling out a different side out of everyone.

Affable was a word that would suit him. Along with attentive, for he always thought and minded the rest first, even while he slept in flower beds, or did something silly that earned Yuki’s fist once more. Kakeru Manabe was, by all accounts a charming young male that had deserved his spot in popularity despite his ditzy outer appearance, if only because of something dark hidden beneath. It was attractive, for a Sohma at least. For they often lived under a façade as well, for they often craved the genuine attention of those surrounding them.

And here was the danger for you, for a Sohma was not supposed to interact with those from the outside. For they were not allowed to be with those uninitiated and you were very much not an exception. In fact, you were a reason even.

“We can’t be together,” you had stated, and Yuki had solemnly nodded, understanding the why but not willing to accept it just like that. However, as a fellow Sohma what was he to suggest else? The outsiders wouldn’t understand and as much as Kakeru was someone of great understanding and acceptance he was just another outsider. After all, it wasn’t unheard of from their own mothers to abandon their children once they found the curse, what obligation had he not to do the same?

“Ahaha, please don’t be like that,” Kakeru had responded, first thinking that you were jesting. Your humour had always been rather outlandish, it was why the two of you got along so well. Just last week you had been the one confessing to him, albeit covertly, but now it was him who returned the words to you, openly. Surely feelings couldn’t have changed that quickly?

“Oooh, is it because you’re actually the heir of a throne in a foreign country? It is fine, I will be your Prince Charming!” the male had exclaimed, thinking that you truly were playing a game with him, but at your stern expression Kakeru’s bright shimmering light dimmed a little as he eyed you and then Yuki and then you again.

“Is it because of my family?” he questions, a pensive look on his face as he recalls the complications his own family came with. The difficulties Machi had to suffer from. The things he fought so hard to break away from. Was it all fruitless in the end?

You shook your head once more, a soft smile on your lips as you took a step away from the male, creating distance between the two of you. It was regrettable that Yuki was here, when it was supposed to be a private moment, but also fortunate, for you were sure that he was needed to pick up the pieces of his friend that you were to leave behind.

“It is mine,” you answered honestly, remembering the way Akito had reacted to Rin and Hatsuharu, recalling the story of why Hatori’s fiance had suddenly left him, the heartbreak, the pain, the inevitable tragedy that was to come, but above all the lack of what you wanted to give him the most; the curse holding you back. And that was all you had been willing to say as you turned away, leaving him with only your rejection.

But Kakeru was amongst the many traits of affableness and charm also determined, unwilling to let go once he had understood that this went against yourself as much as it went against him to let you go.

Kakeru knew himself not to be as kind and as empathetic as he would like to be, often needing others to explain to him what the perspective of the other was. But he understood family and especially complicated families as a member of one himself. Or so he had believed when he tried to dive into yours and tried to figure out what it was that had made you say what you had.

“Have you tried to embrace a Sohma? Have you ever pressed their body against yours and felt its true form?”

The mysterious head of the Sohma family had left Kakeru with even more questions as he wondered what it was that Akito had meant. Kakeru had, without a fear, approached the head to put the hierarchy of the Sohma into question. An inquiry that had earned him a cold and callous ire in which he was challenged to do the one thing you had always avoided. Was it in there that your secret laid?

He had considered it, Kakeru had, but the thought disturbed him as he realised the implications that Akito had so carefully suggested. Was he able to disturb your boundaries as such, to force out your secrets to him so casually all for the sake of starting a relationship?

“You will destroy it before you have it,” were Yuki’s words when he tried to seek counsel from his friend. Yuki’s grey eyes had been so sad, back to that gloomy cold prince he had been before they became friends. It was a loneliness that Kakeru had come to recognise in all members of the Sohma, which he sometimes saw in you as well.

“Whatever it is,” the male decided to tell you instead, “I hope one day you will come to see me as someone that you trust enough to share your secret with,” he had told you after relaying the story of his meeting with Akito. He regretted his own noisiness, lamented his curiosity, but had satisfied himself with patience. Patience that he was willing to use to wait for you to be ready, or for his feelings to die out, though Kakeru had a feeling that was going to be another long while. He was after all, quite stubborn.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #fruits basket Kakeru #Kakeru Manabe #It is the cow's year!#goodbye rat

94 notes · View notes

brattyfics · 4 years

Text

Try

Summary: Angel confesses his feelings to a friend.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Word Count: 1,561

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted something. I’m feeling rusty, so let me know what you think.

“Why am I attracted to toxic masculinity?” Sierra asked you, staring down at her phone screen.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” The two of you waited at the Santo Padre Mayans Charter Clubhouse for her boyfriend, Coco, to return from an errand.

“I’m trying to figure out why my pussy throbs every time this man tells me I better behave or else. Like, why is that so sexy?”

You snort at her silliness. “I don’t know. You know I don’t. The first time a man thinks about telling me what to do I give him his walking papers.”

“I forget you can’t keep a man.”

“A man can’t keep me. Remember that. There’s a difference.”

“Right, that’s what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but kept talking. “I don’t think that’s toxic of him. I think he’s just setting boundaries. You can be…a handful. I’ll just put it that way.”

“Don’t put it. Just say it.” Sierra had that wild glint in her eye, the one that usually spelled trouble.

“You can be a lil’ bit reckless sometimes. A lil’ wild. Coco needs to regulate that ass.” You reached behind her to playfully swat her ass.

Coco chose that moment to show up, a big, crooked grin on his face. “Why you touching my girl, mano?” He stepped up, crowding you like he would some random dude at the bar who had done the same.

“Do you want to fight?” You asked, taking on your best Southpaw stance. Coco matched you, bouncing on his soles for a moment, but then shook his hands dismissively. “Nah, you got it. My bad.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t think so. I’m glad I didn't have to lay you out in here today—“

“What are you yapping about?” Angel Reyes slid into the tiny space between you and Coco. His inky black hair was gelled back into a masculine style, patches of grey littering his full, overgrown beard. He looked as handsome as ever, and you felt yourself heating up in his presence.

You had too much of an ego to let him know that, so you kissed your teeth at his choice of words. Yapping, like you were some annoying little puppy dog. If only he knew. He’d be the one acting like a puppy if you got your hands on him.

“I’m just kidding, mamí.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, and you felt your heart catch in your throat again. The smallest things made you clam up around Angel, but you needed to get a grip. He was so handsome but so unavailable.

Coco stepped around you to greet his girl, wrapping her up in a bear hug and tonguing her down in the middle of the clubhouse. You made exaggerated gagging noises, but they ignored you, getting reacquainted with each other. “You would think they were apart for longer than a couple of hours.” As much as you teased them about being codependent, you were happy for them. Neither of them had an easy go at love, but for some reason, they just clicked.

Angel dropped a heavy arm around your shoulders, the smell of teakwood, leather, and cedar washing over you. “Come on.” You didn’t need to be told twice, allowing him to guide you towards a table. The two of you settled into a corner, huddled closer than two platonic friends probably should be.

You missed EZ’s patch party the week earlier so he gave you a recap. You were in the awkward space of being physically close, though you had never been intimate. Your eyes kept locking on each other, and then quickly shifting away. It was nerve wracking not knowing the other person's limit—how much eye contact was too much or too little.

He asked about a cousin of yours that he went to high school with and that made you feel more relaxed and open. You faced each other, using your respective hands to gesture wildly as you shared stories animatedly.

Eventually, your hands found their way down to his thighs, using them to balance on as you yelled something to Coco over his shoulder. He seemed content with your closeness, so you kept your hands on his thighs even as you sat back on your stool.

“Let me taste.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure he heard you right.

“Your beer, idiot.” You mumbled under your breath as he handed over the cold bottle. Down went the gold liquid, scorching your taste buds. “Eck. Still nasty.” You sat the bottle down, your hand coming up to cover your chest.

“What, you don’t like beer? Why did you drink it then?” He laughed at your sour expression.

“No. I can do tequila, wine, vodka, hell, anything but that. I don’t know why I insist on torturing myself like that every time. I don’t know, I guess I’ll try anything a couple times.”

“Anything?” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.

“Ha ha. Almost anything. Let me make that clear.”

“Noted.” Angel tosses the rest of his beer back, eyeing you with a mischievous look in his eyes. Then he’s in your face, arms moving to circle around your midsection. Your knees feel a bit cramped from where they’re sandwiched in between his own and the stool.

“Is this something you’re willing to try? Me? I mean.”

The words stun you. You knew he was attracted to you. You were both drawn to each other whenever you got together. That much was obvious. But being attracted to someone and wanting to be romantically involved with them were two different things. Angel had a new baby and a complicated relationship with its mother. He had a lot going on, and you weren’t sure it was smart to insert yourself into the middle of that.

“Coco told me—“

“He told you what? I’m going to kill Sierra—“

“Nothing crazy. Just that I might not be alone in my feelings. I know you’re worried I don’t have my shit together, and I’m not going to lie and say I do, because I don’t. But me and her—we’re done. There’s nothing between us now but my son.” It concerned you that he couldn’t say her name. Was he still hurt? Bitter?

“A baby is a big something, Angel…”

“You’re right about that. You are.” An unruly strand of hair caught his attention, his calloused fingers brushing gently across the side of your face as he moved it. “I love my son more than anything else in the world, but that doesn’t mean I have to be with his mother. For a long time, I was forcing something that wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t want to see it then, but trust me when I say I know better now. Adelita and I are over.”

You looked down into your lap, wringing your fingers as you took in the information. He sounded genuine, but how many men had told a woman the same thing and then went back on their word?

From what you understood, Angel had been in deep with Adelita, and anyone that knew him knew he loved hard. If Adelita wanted to get back together, would he be able to resist?

You were conflicted, but you leaned into his chest for comfort as the butterflies flew wild in your belly.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Your knees felt uncomfortable against the stool so you stood. Angel pulled you in further, and you felt relieved that you weren’t alone in your emotional turmoil. He wanted you just as close as you wanted to be. You practically melted into his firm chest like mush. He felt warmer than the average person and you wondered if it was just in your mind. Sighing, you willed yourself to not think about anything for a minute. To just enjoy the moment while it lasted, for however long it lasted.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded muffled and far away even though he spoke right above your head. Angel was apologizing, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No, you’re not.” You looked up at him to confirm your suspicions, and his delight was so contagious that a shy smile warmed your own face. “I am.” He did his best to school his expression, but it was no use.

“Don’t be.” The wide column of his neck was right there, so you pecked it, wondering how it would be to place a less innocent kiss there. “I’m--- I feel the same, Angel. I mean, I’m still worried about the other thing, but I’m willing to try. I want to trust you.”

“And I want you to trust me. Tell you what, you trust me, and I’ll trust you. There will be a time when the shoe is on the other foot. I’m going to have to suck it up and trust you at some point.” Angel was possessive by nature, but you felt more secure hearing him talk about the future. He wasn’t looking for something fun, or short lived.

It just so happened, you weren’t either.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen

ANGEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

#mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x black reader

194 notes · View notes

kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel

57 notes · View notes

pterodactylterrace · 3 years

Text

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror. No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her. So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic #triggering themes

70 notes · View notes