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7ndipity · 5 months

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Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi oneshot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts one shot #7ndipity

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hatchetno1 · 3 months

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frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.

Imagine Astarion walking in to see his s/o, only to see them on their knees groaning and looking uncomftarble, because of Haarlep and his promise. ”Everytime I make love with your body, you will know.”

Maybe Astarion could like try to comfort s/o through one of those times? Not in a sexual way, just doing his best to show that he’s there, maybe throwing a comment to distract them ”pretend it’s me.”

If you’re uncomftarble with this you can ignore it! Have a nice day/night!😊

I used they/them pronouns for Haarlep when applicable because the Narrator refers to them this way

References and dialogue taken from a scene in the game, transcribed by yours truly

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, swearing, crying, reference to victim blaming, references to past trauma/abuse

Word Count: 1,031

Masterlist

AO3

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It comes on like a violent shiver. You can feel hands all over you, tracing up and down your legs and chest, but you’re all alone in your tent. You try to ignore it, focus on a book or something. Anything. But it’s overwhelming. Haarlep is using your body to pleasure someone else and you can feel it all. Maybe for Raphael it was incredible - another layer of pleasure to heighten the experience. To you, it’s violating.

You curl into yourself, tugging your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor, and hiding your face from the lamp light. If you could curl up tight enough, maybe you could block it all out. It’s a useless attempt. You know nothing can stop it.

“Darling, you’re going to miss… Shit.” Astarion rushes to your side, the flap of the tent shutting out the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he should touch you, where he should touch you. But you’re shaking, and whimpering, and he wants more than anything to help. “Can I touch you?”

You lift your face from your knees, nodding as a groan tears from your throat. It should feel good, but it doesn’t. You want to squirm and dive into water and roll in the dirt - anything to get rid of the ghostly hands on your skin.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him. His touch is more solid. He’s not a phantom taking pleasure in your image. You sigh with how real he feels. He brushes his fingers through your hair. “It’s the incubus, isn’t it?” he whispers by your ear. You nod and grab onto his arm. Your hands are trembling. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I can feel it, Astarion,” you gasp. You press your face into his chest. “Everything. Hands, just, all over me.” You can’t bear to speak out loud what else you feel. He can tell when your legs press tightly together.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think. You don’t know. You squirm closer to him and he draws your body into his lap, pressing his cheek to your head. He tries to be more firm in his touches. He scratches lightly at your scalp, tugs gently at the hairs at the nape of your neck. His hand runs up and down your arm, stopping only to press his fingertips against different locations that follow no consistent pattern. He can feel your tears against his skin, and he wishes more than anything to have killed that creature when they had the chance.

“Keep talking,” you whimper. A violent chill forces its way down your spine and you groan against his skin to avoid being too loud. He can’t imagine what the others would think or say.

When this happened before, it was in public. You couldn’t avoid it then, couldn’t rush somewhere private away from public eyes, and they scolded you. Told you to be quiet, teased you about liking it. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. It hadn’t been this bad then - the sound you made wasn’t out of disgust or discomfort.

“I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”

“I may as well just try to enjoy it.”

“I thought the same, once. It didn’t last. I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”

“Please,” you cry. “Please talk to me.”

He hushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “It’s going to be okay, my dear. You’re going to get through this. And once these damn tadpoles are out of our heads, we’re marching right back to Avernus and killing that bastard.”

You chuckle, weak and wet, but it’s better than hearing you suffer. “Promise?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d march down there tomorrow if we could.” He moves his hand from your arm to your leg. He rubs circles into your thigh with his thumb, applying various amounts of pressure as he does. Quietly, unsure, he whispers into your hair, “Can you pretend it’s me?”

He’s not sure if he wants you to, truthfully. But he’s willing to carry that weight if it means easing your suffering. It’s a sentimental thought, but it doesn’t last long as you shake your head. “They don’t touch me like you do.” There’s an edge of teasing in your voice, trying to make it a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Good.” He wants to say something more, but nothing comes to mind. He’s almost… proud. Definitely possessive. If that incubus and whoever they're bedding now doesn’t know how to touch you in all the ways you enjoy, then Astarion won’t feel bad when he touches you. He would hate to ruin intimacy for you because Haarlep touches you the same way.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around him to dig your fingers into his back. You try not to dig too deep, try not to hurt him, even in your torture. It breaks his heart. A sound bubbles in the back of your throat, agonized and lewd. With just one touch of your hand to his cheek, he knows precisely what you’re asking for, and he captures your mouth with his own. It’s not romantic or sweet. It’s teeth clashing and swallowing every loud noise that would be louder if he pulled away. It’s offering you a final comfort as Haarlep desecrates you.

As your legs stop shaking, the phantom touches on your body fading, you kiss him softer, until you feel safe enough to pull away. You don’t hide your face again; you press your forehead to his. Your cheeks are flushed and stained with tears. He continues to play with your hair as he wipes them away.

“Thank you,” you whisper. A sob rises from your chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and wrapping his arms around you. “It’s okay, my love. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You’re okay.”

---

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@lynnlovesloki

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her.

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched.

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go.

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command.

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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after-witch · 9 months

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Bonded [Platonic Yandere L x Sibling Reader]

Title: Bonded [Platonic Yandere L x Sister Reader]

Synopsis: Being L 's younger sibling sucks.

Word count: 1700ish

notes: platonic yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, L is an asshole; reader is a younger (adult) sibling

“Why do you have to go away? You just got back.”

L doesn’t answer. He scrapes his thumb across his lip and continues typing, clicking, mesmerized by whatever new assignment has been sent his way.

It was always like this. It seemed that anytime your brother got back, he was sent out again. Always needed, always being pulled by a million different people in directions you couldn’t even fathom. And you were here, at Whammy’s, stuck and lonely and increasingly pissed off.

You suck in your cheeks, gnawing lightly on the inside of your mouth, taking in a bit from behind your lips, a bit on the side of your cheek. Your teeth work the flesh over and over, not hurting, but pressing down.

A familiar habit, ingrained from a young age, something that simultaneously soothes you without actually disappointing the growing frustration, anger, resentment in your belly. Maybe it doesn’t soothe you at all, you muse. Maybe it’s just a way to shut yourself up so you don’t say something you can’t take back.

“You’ll get blisters inside your cheeks again,” he says, glancing at you and looking away just as quickly.

It’s nothing new for him to barely pay attention to you when he’s on assignment, and it’s nothing new for you to clamor for more of that attention.

Life was unfair and he was unfair, but you played into the bullshit anyway, because you didn’t know how else to live.

So you let your voice take on a muffled tone, annoyed, childish. You want him to tell you to stop acting like a kid. You want him to sigh and slam his laptop shut and ask you what’s wrong. You want him to just look at you, talk to you, damn it, for more than a few seconds.

“So what?”

You cross your arms over your chest, playing the petulant child. It’s what you feel like--what you’ve always felt like--in his presence. Like some dumb little thing, stupider than him, smaller than him, less than him.

He doesn’t even look at you this time, his fingers flying on his keyboard, the clacking sound irritatingly familiar at this point. “They’ll sting when you eat food, and you hate gargling salt water to heal them, so I’ll have to make you do it.” He twists his mouth into something like a pout, but you can’t tell if it’s aimed at you or whatever he’s reading on the screen.

“I’m not using salt water, even if I get blisters,” you say, jutting your chin outwards. You’ve been reading too many novels, clearly, and everything feels like it has a practiced air. You’re a player in a theatrical performance, and you can’t tell if L is the audience or a fellow actor or maybe he’s the director, cooling pulling the strings behind the curtain.

He glances at you again, then resumes typing. “Then you can be grounded to your room for a week. No TV. No books.”

Your lips curl even further. “You can’t ground me. I’m an adult. You’re just being an assh--”

He does look at you this time, and it’s that stare that you know too well. The I’m-older-than-you stare, the I’m-in-charge-of-you stare. The stare that he gives when you ask to attend real university and not some in-house curriculum; the look that he gives you when you ask to move out of here, to get your own place, when you bring up the fact that you’re a grown-fucking-adult but you’ve never had any life experiences outside of motherfucking Whammy’s House and you’re losing your mind.

Your eyebrows furrow. Your cheeks flush hot, shame rolling around in your gut. Then your arms uncross and you huff, throwing yourself backward on the bed, landing on your pillows. Two plush, soft things, a stark contrast to the uniform firm pillows normally issued at Whammy’s.

L hated those pillows, and so did you, and it was one of the first things he secured for you once it was clear that the two of you were going to stay. That, you tell yourself, is a sign that he cares about you.

But it doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

“Don’t breathe so loud,” L says, suddenly, voice lilting enough to eat away at your resentments. “Please. You’ll distract me.”

You resist the urge, only barely, to throw a pillow at his head.

Later that night, L puts away the computer and the phone. He murmurs something to someone in the hallway before slinking into your bedroom, watching as you finish your nighttime routine, peeling back the covers and crawling into them.

You look at him. He doesn’t make to leave, like he sometimes does, when he’s too busy.

He raises an eyebrow.

You open the covers, and say nothing more.

In a few moments, he crawls into bed.

Familiar warmth, familiar smells, familiar touch. You nestle yourself in the crook of his arm, automatically. You do this, even if you’re mad. Or especially when you’re mad, sometimes.

“The nest,” you used to call it, when he was young and you were younger. A safe place you could go when everything was overwhelming and the world was too cold and dark, and the only thing that made you feel at home was your brother’s arms.

Back when it was mostly just you and him. No legions of would-be successors, wanna-bes, hangers-on, vying for scraps of his attention. No stony-faced men in suits letting you know that he wouldn’t be returning home (if this could be called “home,” and you certainly wouldn’t call it that) for another few months and no, he couldn’t call, but they’ll pass on your message. No eccentrics with monikers of N and M and every letter under the sun making you wonder what would happen if you L did die, where would you be, who would you turn to?

Back when he felt like your big brother, and nights like this--in the same room or the same bed, falling asleep together, words murmured until you fell asleep, always before him--were the norm. And not the rarity that they are now.

And truth be told, it still makes you feel safe to be nestled there. That’s what really hurts the most. It would be better, easier, if you hated him. If you resented him so much that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Instead, you’re like a moth beating its wings senseless against a light that only sometimes turns on. Useless and pointless but at least, sometimes, once in every fucking while, you got what you wanted.

“L?” You ask, your voice partially muffled from your position curled next to him. You’re sleepy, but you know he won’t be. He sleeps even less than he used to, and that’s saying something.

“Mm?”

It takes so, so much of you to ask him this point blank. You wonder if he knows this, that being so candid is like stripping yourself bare in front of the entire world. Which he might as well be, for you.

“Will you take me with you, this time?” Your fingers curl tightly on his shirt. “I hate being here by myself.”

He breathes out a quick little snort, enough to rustle your hair. His arm tightens around you.

“How can you hate being here by yourself, when you’re not by yourself? There’s--”

You know he’s about to list every single damn person at this stupid facility. You know them all, and you hate them all. Well… most.

(You could, if pressed, admit that Matt was tolerable in medium doses. But you’d never admit that to your brother, for reasons you couldn’t quite articulate. Sometimes you imagine the look on his face if you were to tell him that you hung out with Matt, actually, and he seemed--what? Nice? Funny? Interesting?)

Your fingers tighten further. Tears choke your throat.

“You know what I mean,” you whisper, tight, pained.

You’re not so different from the others at Whammy’s, you know. They crave his attention more than anything and God help you, so do you. A look, a glance, a shared memory. Something to remind you that you’re alive and he’s your brother and you’re together, by blood and everything else.

Yet it’s always there--

The push and the pull.

Wanting to be near him and wanting to get away, break out, smash down the box you’re kept in and make a life for yourself. A life where you’re not “L’s sister.” A life where whispers don’t follow you in the halls, where expectations aren’t simmering in the air, heavy and unwanted.

Where you don’t feel like your big brother is some unknowable figure, always out of reach, yet unwilling to either pull you entirely into himself or let you free.

Sometimes you wonder… what kind of life could you have without L? He’s all you’ve ever known. There is not a single memory in existence in which he has not been a part of it. If he did let you leave, if you did get the nerve to make some great daring escape, what would become of you?

Maybe you were nothing without him, without those whispers, without the pedestal that you’re forced to stare up at whenever you think about him.

The thought makes you want to wretch.

He hums, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You were clenching his shirt so hard that your fingers ache, and you flex them.

“Well?” You ask, voice dull.

You know he’s not going to take you with him before he speaks. Quiet tears slip down your cheeks, and you feel dumb. But he doesn’t tease you for them, at least. There’s that.

“Maybe next time,” he says, and pats your back. Time to get to bed. He barely slept, but that didn’t mean he would let you stay up late. Or watch too much TV. Or leave Whammy’s for somewhere new.

Disappointment weighs you down, but then, doesn’t it always? You swallow the prickles in your throat.

“Then just… don’t be gone a long time, okay?”

You sigh, letting yourself relax back into his arms. Into the nest. Into some remnant of childhood where you felt comfortable and safe. You push away all thoughts of leaving, of resentments, of the fact that your life is only something like fulfilled when your brother designs to visit. You stay there until you fall asleep, dreams gray and bleary, disconnected thoughts that are rarely worth remembering.

Against your hair, L smiles.

#yandere l lawliet #yandere death note #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #just a lil thing I wrote on my phone

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ellabsweet · 9 months

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[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which The Deadbeats band is a success, ellie as lead singer and guitarist, abby as a bassist, jesse on the drums and dina on the keyboard, despite their chaotic nature and eventual love affair with a certain groupie

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, very lightly based on the dynamics of daisy jones and the six, eventual nsfw content so minors and men do not interact, multiple part series

authors note: so im starting this little thing with a groupie!reader and very chaotic dynamic band au with rockstars!abby and ellie fighting for her affection, if you want to be tagged just let me know and i will add you to a taglist! enjoy babies

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

“Dina Woodward had a saying of her own lightly adapted from some childhood friend’s hip grandmother that went along the lines of: You either fuck it, or hop off the top. That was the mindset that led a group of young adults from a small town in Wyoming to ultimate stardom in rock circles all across the globe-” Ellie made sure to interrupt Jesse’s reading, clutching the newspaper off his hands and forcing it apart in even shreds.

“They made us sound like a fucking inspirational movie”

“I told you that’s what happens when you accept to be interviewed by these mainstream fascists Abby’s daddy can buy out”

“Well, Ellie, here’s a little tip then how about you stop snorting up all our gig cash and actually write some new fucking songs so we don’t have to depend on these interviews that are buying the fucking powder you can’t keep from shoving up your nose” Abby was angry as per usual, landing a soft blow over the table Ellie leaned over, scattering sprinkles of the white drug across the floor. Jesse prepared himself to get between them quickly, his own set of muscles basically newly acquired for these situations, a fiery Ellie and overtly stronger Abby was entertaining the first couple of times when bruised eyes could be hot accessories, but it’s frequency died down the style quickly.

“Fuck you and your moral superiority you only joined the band because you wanted to piss off your fancy rich parents and we only let you because we needed the investment”

“Els, shut the fuck up you know that she’s a good bassist” Dina sighed, looking around for the vacuum cleaner to avoid questions from her tennants later.

“And a better singer too” Abby smirked, her laugh echoing across the room as Ellie leaned in to punch her and was stopped by Jesse’s grip that she remained fighting incessantly.

She thought of Joel, her step father, wondered for a split second what he’d think of her in this situation and quickly shook the thought of her mind. It was irrelevant what Joel would’ve thought, because he was dead alongside anyone else she ever loved, like a plague. Cursed was the title track of their album and it explored the feeling of grief and anger better than anyone could’ve forced out of her in conversation. The other members went as far as thinking perhaps it meant something different, a change within. It never came. Ellie remained the same hot headed impulsive lyrical genius whose talent was wasted on her for always being too overly wasted herself.

“Can we please just get back to practice?” Jesse pleaded, his surprising patience wearing thin.

It didn’t matter, in the end. They were Ellie’s band. Abby was a bass goddess. Music saved Jesse’s life. Dina secretly thought it all to be amusing. They were incredible together, despite the drugs and screams and punches, breathtaking. The band would live on and so would the chaos. You either fuck it, or hop off the top.

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin comment to be added!

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us fanfiction #ellabs x reader #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #rockstar!ellie #rockstar!abby #lesbian #ellie williams #abby anderson

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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First Sight / Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. First chapter here.

Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, PTSD, PPD, mentions of blood and violence, reader is a new mom, tenderness, fluff, complicated feelings, mentions of Percocet (no addiction or abuse), feelings of fear and anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

The house is quiet. Practically silent, except for the ebb and flow of Simon snoring, the broad expanse of his chest combined with the crook of his elbow making a very comfortable sleeping spot for Theo apparently. It’s like white noise, you guess. You've heard of babies being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, or rain, or even a vacuum cleaner, but you didn’t have to resort to any of those, the crackle coming from Simon’s nose more than enough.

Which is great, because you’re exhausted. Or at least, you think you are. It’s hard to tell right now. Your abdomen is still sore, giant incision finally starting to close after six long weeks, and your brain never turns off, the darkness pulling at the edge your mind dragging you through hell almost every day, the bright spots few and infrequent. You feel haunted. You feel like a husk.

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You stare at Theo in awe, his little face perfectly serene while he sleeps in your arms, and you lower your own to the crown of his head, skimming your nose across his tiny tuft of hair. You hold him close, pointer finger tracing as lightly as possible across the apple of his cheek, back and forth. It’s hard to believe he’s even real. Or that he’s here. That the two of you made it through, and that he now has a birthday, a name, ten fingers, and ten toes.

This, whatever it is, is the strongest concentration of love you’ve ever felt in your life, that you’re sure of. Things that mattered before, don’t anymore. Things you were worried about in the past, don’t exist. The only thing that’s real is this baby in your arms, your baby, Simon’s baby, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears at the realization.

“What do you think, mom? You ready for some pain relief so you can get some sleep?” The nurse asks, and Simon nods but doesn’t speak. You know he wants you to get some painkillers, that he’s having a hard time watching you wince and bite your lip to the point where you draw blood, but he also wouldn’t dare speak for you, even though you’re sure he wants to take over, take charge and make sure you get what you need.

You did just have major surgery, and the other drugs have worn off, leaving you with searing pain in your stomach and cramps in your legs.

But the idea of taking a Percocet makes you nervous, lights some uneasy fire in the back of your mind, and irrational but completely real fear buzzes in your nervous system. If you’re drugged, you’ll be loopy, and it makes you want to say no. The amount of pain your body is in fights against the resistance, and you glance at Simon hesitantly. Like he’s reading your mind, he reaches out to place a gentle hand on your thigh.

“Nothing is going to happen if you take a pain pill. I promise.” He says encouragingly and you relent with a sigh.

“Okay, yeah.”

“Sass?” It’s Simon, standing in the doorway, Theo in the sling that is his giant forearm. He sits comfortably there, perfectly snuggled against his dad, and it makes your heart clench. Simon is looking at you warily, like he doesn’t recognize you. Which is fair. You don’t even recognize yourself. “What’re you doin’ out here?” Where? You blink, processing the question. Here? Your toes wiggle, in grass, and you look around. Why are you in the backyard? At night?

“Oh. I don’t know.” He’s holding his hand out to you, large fingers reaching for yours.

“Come inside.” He presses his thumb to your wrist, eyes closing before speaking again. “I think you should call the shrink.”

“No.”

“Sass. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you need to talk to someone.” You laugh weakly.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” You spit, tone edged in an eagerness to fight, and he tenses. Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. Stop being such a bitch. He’s doing practically everything for you right now. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just… out of it.” You step closer, leaning your forehead into his chest, blinking down at the wriggling baby in his arm. Your son. You feel Simon’s nose in your hair, and then a heavy palm rests at the small of your back.

He inhales deeply.

“I know.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You repeat it over and over for assurance, even though your son is sleeping comfortably in your arms, safe and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. It’s hard to believe you’re a mom now, someone who has a tiny, defenseless little human depending on you for everything.

Well, not just you.

You eye Simon, asleep in the chair less than a foot from the bed, head tilted back, mouth open. There’s a large white spot of baby vomit on the front of his black sweatshirt, and he’s sporting some serious undereye circles from being up with Theo as much as possible. He doesn’t let you lift a finger, which is fine considering you can’t even really get out of the bed without help, your giant incision still wrapped up and body still exhausted from surgery, two days later.

On top of everything, something felt off. There was this feeling, a dark, lonely thing pulling at your limbs, trying to wring you out over and over, dragging you down into the dark of the deepest waters. You were frightened of it, the cycle of thoughts spiraling through your mind every time you closed your eyes, the inky blackness of dark feelings overtaking you from every direction. Were you going to be a good mom? Would you be able to take care of Theo? What if Simon wasn’t here? What if something bad happens? What if you die? What if Theo doesn’t love you? What if Simon leaves? What if you don’t like your own baby? What if you can’t bond with him? What if you suck at this?

Theo gurgles, a small noise, and you try to shift to alleviate some of the pressure on your back. Pain zings through you, the sting of your muscles seizing, and you gasp, loud enough that Simon is jerking awake, eyes scanning the room until they land on you and your hopeless form.

“Need help?” You nod miserably, and he lifts Theo away from your body while you try to get situated. You watch him rock the baby easily, settling into a natural rhythm like it’s nothing, and try not to feel irritated. He’s a natural. How is possible that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is so good at this and you’re a failure? Tears prick along your waterline, and you slam your eyes shut, but not before one escapes down your cheek. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” A big, warm hand envelopes yours, and your emotions surge inside of you, sadness and love and anxiety swirling in your heart until you’re sniffling.

“I’m sorry.” You sob and he looks stricken.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being such a mess.”

“You just had a baby, Sass. And you have a huge wound in your stomach. You’re gonna be a mess for a bit.”

“Yeah, b-but I can’t even take care of my… my own baby,” The words are slurred, pieced together through tears, and you try to catch your breath. He folds his hand around the back of your neck and leans forward, bringing Theo between your two bodies while your face nestles into him. “and you’re being so nice to me.” You cry aloud.

“Shhh. It’s alright, sweet girl. You’re okay.” TWO babies. There are two babies in this stupid hospital room. You take a deep breath through your nose while Simon rubs your back, Theo blinking up at the two of you silently. “Did you get any sleep this morning?”

“N- no.” He sighs as he pulls away, lips dragging across your temple gently and then up to your forehead to press a kiss there, soft and slow, lingering as long as he can.

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” you shrug and wipe your eyes. “I’ll turn out the lights.”

“Wait.” Your hand shoots out to latch onto his in a panic. “Si. I- don’t go anywhere. Please?”

“We’ll both be right here.” He assures you, folding your hand back into your lap with a squeeze before moving to flick the light off. “We’re right here, okay? Close your eyes.” He slides the reclining chair another half a foot closer to the bed, easing down into it with Theo secure in one arm, holding your hand with the other. He traces a thumb over the skin of your knuckles, and your eyes slip closed.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the straggly ends of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest beneath Simon’s t shirt. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. Your head is pounding, a headache ripping across the front of your brain, your stomach churning like you’re going to vomit up the breakfast you ate this morning. Your legs feel weak, or maybe it’s your body that feels heavy, but either way, you can hardly stand, leaning against the bathroom countertop for support. You focus on your breath, in and out, counting inhales and exhales, but there’s a buzzing sound in your ear, and the room suddenly feels dark, like your vision is cloudy.

When you close your eyes, you see a teenager walking towards you, a bomb wired to the vest he’s wearing.

You see Soap’s blood on your palms, you feel it slicking your skin up your forearms, you hear his grunts of pain as you pack his wound.

You see Simon outside the tent after you left, staring up at the helicopter as it took you away. You remember the unadulterated rage that coursed through your veins, the overwhelming feeling of anger that consumed your entire existence.

You see the faces of the first infantry troop you deployed with in the desert. The fresh-faced lieutenant, begging you to make sure his wife and kids get his death benefits while he dies in front of you, torso blown open, organs shredded by bullets. The private, from Louisiana, whose parents were long dead, but he told you about how sweet his baby sister was while the two of waited for a field medic that would be way too late.

You see your dad, the last time you ever saw his face, putting you on a plane to a country you knew nothing about while you screamed, your mother crying in his arms. The silver of the cross around his neck glinting in the afternoon sun.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

There’s a knock on the door and you snap to attention.

“Sass?” You fix your face in the mirror as well as you can before answering.

“Yeah, coming.”

It’s the familiar ring of a facetime call that wakes you, your head foggy with the cotton of deep sleep. You squint at the caller ID, Johnny’s name popping up across the screen accompanied by the soap emoji.

“Hi.” You answer, voice still a little groggy. Simon is already lifting Theo from the bassinet, depositing him on your chest gently, and giving your shoulder a squeeze before he slumps back in the chair.

“Sassafras, look at ‘im.” Theo’s just visible in the screen, and Johnny is grinning, hand partially covering his face because his eyes are suspiciously wet. “You did a grand job lass.” You smile at him in thanks, and Simon grunts from the chair right next to the bed. “Where’s the big guy?”

“He's here.” You angle the camera, and Simon cracks a small smile under the mask.

“Hey Johnny.”

“Ghost! Yer a lucky man, LT.” Simon looks to you, something soft shining in his eyes before it disappears.

“Yeah.” He reaches over, hand laying gently over top yours where it rests on Theo's back.

“He’s ready to meet Uncle Soap, whenever you get leave next. Feel free to come over this way.” You chime. “We, uh actually wanted to talk to you about being his godfather...”

“No, we don’t.” Simon barks but you shake your head, moving the camera back to you.

“Yes, we do. Ignore him. It was his idea, Johnny.” You shoot him a look.

“Ah you two, I’m honored.” There’s a noise in the background, something loud, and Johnny looks away quickly, before returning to the screen. “Gotta run. Miss ya Sassy, and the grumpy bastard.”

“Bye, Soap. Be safe, stay frosty.” Theo cries just as Johnny hangs up, and you pat his back slowly, murmuring above his ear.

“What is it?” You soothe. “Hungry?” You bounce him slightly, all you can do from the bed, before looking up at Simon imploringly. “Si…”

“C’mere” He pulls the baby from your arms, tilting him onto his back at a good angle for the bottle, before settling down next to you on the bed. “Like a champ.” He says proudly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

“He’s got a good appetite.” You push your finger into his tiny fist, and he grabs onto it reflexively. “Like his dad I guess.” You tease and Simon smirks, leaning down to plant a kiss across your cheek.

Theo is screaming on the monitor. Both of you jolt awake, and Simon is out of bed before you can even say anything, hall light flicking on and floorboards creaking under his feet.

You glance at the clock. 3:32 AM. Well, at least he made it three hours. There’s a beeping sound inside your ear, and you cringe, shaking it away as you fully wake. Anxiety immediately blooms in your mind, and you take deep breaths to calm your heart. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You sit up slowly, shifting your hips until you’re fully upright, and Simon comes back.

“Hungry, I think.” He’s got Theo against his chest, blanket over his shoulder. His hair is all a mess, like the baby’s, and the sight of them together nearly makes you start crying. Your boys.

“Here.” You clear your throat. “I’ll take him, you grab the bottle?” He rubs his face sleepily and you rock Theo, trying to get his cries to calm down while you wait for the formula. “Shhh.” You make the hushing noise near his ear, to no avail.

The song comes easily. It’s not a lullaby, and you’re a shit singer, but since he was born, singing works better than humming, though you’re not sure why. You rock him in time with the beat you’re conjuring in your head, closing your eyes and imagining your voice is not terribly off key.

“I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again. Take me back to the night we met.” Theo cries, but more softly, a little hiccup shaking his chest. “And then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then I can tell myself, not to ride along with you.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking across the baby soft skin of his cheek. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” He’s gone silent, just looking up at you with big wide eyes now, and you smile down at him in the dim light of your bedside lamp. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost you. Take me back to the night we met.”

When you look up, Simon’s standing in the doorway again, bottle in one hand, burp cloth in the other, frozen to the spot, staring at you.

“Hey.” He startles, like he was off somewhere else, and takes big strides until he’s sitting at your side, handing the bottle over. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, and you frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“I can put him back in the crib, if you want to lay down.” You gesture to his side of your bed, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. ’s fine.”

“You sure?” Theo sucks the bottle down with ease, and you prop him on your shoulder over the burp cloth. Simon leans forward, and presses his lips to your brow, hand resting on Theo’s back. He holds himself there, for a second, then two, and three, until he pulls away to touch his forehead to yours.

“I’m sure.”

The woman says your name, nodding at you from where she sits to the left of your bed.

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m a resident psychologist here, but I also do work for the VA.” You fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out and choose to smile politely instead. “I understand you have some concerns about postpartum depression.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t been so painfully honest on the questionnaire your OB gave you.

“Are you currently receiving any treatment for your PTSD?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in receiving treatment for PTSD?”

“Not really, I’ve done therapy before.” She nods thoughtfully.

“Did your doctor go over everything with you about C-section recovery?”

“Yeah, she did.” Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, something tells you to be more forthcoming, to be more open with this shrink, but it gets shut down before it can become a full thought.

“Okay. I am going to give you my card. It has my office number on it and my email. You can reach out to me anytime you need to.” You give her another polite, lackluster look. She sighs. “Being a new mom can be hard, even for those who don’t have histories of trauma. There is no shame in needing help.”

“I know. Thank you.” You hold the card up like its proof that you’re listening, like you can be trusted to call if you think you’re in trouble. She gives you a sympathetic smile as she makes to leave, reiterating that she wants you to call her if you need to.

A heavy knock sounds on the door, and then Simon is standing in the room, medical mask on his face, sleeping baby cuddled against him. Just the sight of him holding Theo cleaves your heart in two, and you hold your arms out to them both, anxious to be near them. He gives the doctor a look when she passes, and then raises an eyebrow at you.

“You alright?” Theo cries and you motion with your hands so you can hold him.

“Yeah. Just usual shrink stuff.”

“Alright, come off it. It’s not that funny.” Simon’s jaw flexes as you try to hold back the laughter and fail. It hurts your stomach, but at the same time, it feels great. It feels real.

“Oh my god. I’m so- sorry. For laughing, it’s just-“ you stare down at the mess of burnt food in the pan, eyebrows creasing in sympathy when you look back up at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He scowls.

“I’ll order takeout.”

“No, no you don’t have to. We can make something else.”

“No.” He turns to stalk away, and you’re hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere, so strong that it nearly knocks you off balance, almost steals your breath. It feels familiar. It feels like Belize, and every second afterwards until he sent you away, it feels like waking up in the hospital to his face hovering over yours, it feels like watching him press his ear to your belly when Theo was still inside you. It feels like that night when the two of you sat on the roof of the safehouse in Belarus, after the botched extraction mission, the one that left him with twenty stitches in his thigh and you got that really bad burn on your arm. The roof where the two of you traded secrets, where he told you about his dad and you told him about yours. It feels like the night in Uruguay, when you and Johnny and him all went out and found a bar, when you got drunk and he pressed you against the brick wall in the alley, your legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried in your neck, whispering words you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. It feels like watching him cry in the operating room when he saw the baby for the first time, watching him become a dad, watching him beat the vicious cycle of trauma and abuse right before your eyes.

You wrap yourself around his waist before he can get too far away, molding your body to his back, and his hand comes down to where yours rests on his stomach.

“Sass?”

“Don’t. Just, stay here. Like this. For a minute.” He shifts, turning while keeping you pressed against him, until you’re resting your cheek on his chest, and he’s rubbing your back.

“You alright?” His voice is gentle, he’s always gentle with you now, and the realization makes the feeling grow even stronger.

“Yeah. I’m… Simon. I-“

Theo cries on the baby monitor. Insistent. Bossy, as Simon enjoys telling you, like his mum.

You step away with a sigh.

“I’ll get him.” He kisses your forehead before heading up the stairs.

When he makes it back down, you’re scrubbing the pan out, charred food already deposited in the garbage can.

“There she is.” Simon says from behind you, and you turn to see Theo blinking in your direction, eyes wide and making little garbled cooing noises.

“Hi baby.” Simon shuffles him into your arms, and you sway side to side slowly. “You’re hungry.” You deduce, and he agrees with you, making an impatient crying sound, tiny fist swinging into the air. “I know, I know. Hang on.” You soothe. You settle yourself on the couch with a bottle, brushing against his cheek lightly to trigger the rooting reflex before plopping it in his mouth. He drinks greedily, eyes trying to slip shut once he’s had his fill, and Simon laughs from where he sits next to you.

“You’re good at this.” He says quietly. You balance Theo on your shoulder while you burp him, and then look at Simon like he’s off his rocker.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Sass.” He pauses. “And ya look good, holding my baby.” Your cheeks heat, and something clenches in your stomach. You shoot him a look and he grins like a fool, real happiness stretching across his face in spades. It’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, and you- “I know you’re struggling right now,” he pulls you out of your train of thought, eyes pensive, grin morphing into something bittersweet. “and it’s been hard, but… I’m here. For you. For Theo. I want us…” he trails off when Theo burps and you shift, cradling him back into a sleeping position. “I don’t know… what will happen, in the future, and I know I still got a lot, of making up to do. But I want this. With you. I want us to… be a family.” You study his knuckles, fingers bunched together with tension, the height of his shoulders under his ears. You expect to feel the unraveling force of your anger, the swell of rage towards him that has been lurking under the surface for so long, but it never comes. It simmers in the distance, cool and unprovoked, sitting silently and uneager. You wonder if it's temporary, if you’ll ever feel it again, the way you used to.

Instead, when you look at him, all you see is Simon. Theo’s dad. All you have is that feeling, the strong emotion that makes your head spin, and while you can’t get your mouth to form those three words, you feel the full force it when you look up at him with softness in your gaze and say,

“I think we already are, Si.”

#sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #reader was pregnant #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tw pregnancy #soft dad simon riley #reader is referred to as mom #simon x sass #ghost x reader #peaches writes

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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My Lip Gloss is Poppin’

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Smut: Mommy (Top!N) Quickie: Somnophilia(CNC), Fingering(R), Nipple Play, Teasing, Alluded to Oral/Strap.

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha was in the process of getting ready for work; a last minute meeting she had no desire of going to on a Saturday morning, but it only is anticipated to last about an hour, then she’d be able to come home and spend the day with you like she’d always intended to do today.

She shut the tap off, settled her toothbrush back in the jar beside yours, and applied a layer of red tinted lipgloss, to finish off her makeup.

Looking at her phone she noticed she had an hour before she had to be to the compound, and it was only a fifteen minute drive on her motorbike, so she smiled at the thought of cuddling you close for the next thirty minutes.

——

As she went to open the door though she was alarmed by the sounds of your whimpering, the woman nearly tore the wood off its hinges as the fear that you were maybe being hurt set in. She wasn’t at all prepared to see what she did.

There you laid on your stomach sound asleep, the blankets now strewn all about while your hips squirmed and rutted into the bed., “Mm, mommy please.,” your muffled words sent a wave of need throughout the redheads body, all she could think about now was destroying you, the way your body clearly needed her to do.

“Oh shit.,” she cursed, the glorious sight of your drenched, exposed panties the last straw for her., “You’re always so desperate detka.,” she groaned while shifting you onto your back, her hand palmed you over the lace, and her lips sucked firmly against the skin of your throat.

“N-natty?,” your consciousness slowly seeped in, and the questions you were going to ask died in your mind as she began to rub faster., “Mommy’s here to help you detka, you were a sweet mess, moaning for me in your sleep.”

“Cause I just need you so bad mommy.,” she smiled softly at you, the kind of smile she had only ever shown to you, it managed to say those three pesky words to you she’d once feared saying before she made peace within.

“I don’t have long before I have to go my love.,”a whimper of disappointment left you as soon as the words left her lips, but through a playful smirk she kissed away your worries., “Don’t worry detka, mommy’s going to help you first.”

Natasha slid your panties to the side, offering you immense pleasure as her middle finger slowly circled your clit while her other hand slid your shirt over your head so that she could swirl her tongue around your sensitive areola.

“Mommy, more please.,” the words left you in a strangled moan as she was already teasing your entrance with her digit while still abusing both your clit, and nipples with a subtle expertise.

“Patience detka, mommy knows best.,” she reminded to which you softly huffed, but nonetheless resumed moaning over whining.

Natasha knew how to wind you up, it was really no effort at all to get you pliant and desperate. Her honest intent is to bring you over the edge as promised, but more importantly she wants to get you so desperate that you crave more. Her hope is to leave you a moping mess when she inevitably heads to work. This way her mission briefing flies by as the anticipation to destroy you after with her strap builds.

Your back arched off the mattress when the redhead suddenly entered you with three of her long fingers while her teeth nibbled into the plush skin of your breasts leaving you gasping.

With the help of your scandalous sleepy time endeavors, and her current ministrations you were losing your mind in record time. Every thrust of hers was met with your hips own thrusting, and her mouth marking you up only made the pit in your stomach tighten; being hers was a source of pride for you, so wearing her marks was an honor you didn’t take lightly.

Natasha curled her fingers on every third thrust, making you gasp each time, and your legs began to tremble with all this exertion. Your orgasm finally washed over you as her tongue invaded your mouth, and her thumb claimed its place against your throbbing clit.

“Oh mommy.,” you cried, her hand sped up, and you continued to cry as she monopolized on your orgasm, keeping the pleasure coursing through your exhausted form., “Thank you.,” the words left your lips in a repetitive string as she fucked you into a near mindless state.

Natasha caught a glimpse of the clock, cursing in Russian at the time having slipped away.

“I know detka.,” she whispered reassuringly as her fingers slid from inside you with a loud squelching sound., “Mommy doesn’t want to do this, but I have to go to the compound.”

“On a Saturday?,” you questioned with a pout.

She nodded sadly as her fingers were now in her mouth., “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you later detka, I’ll have you ride my face, then if you were a good girl you’ll get my strap.”

An uncontainable whimper left you at the arousing idea, and she leaned down to peck your lips for a likely final time., “Be good.”

“Wait, your gloss is ruined, lemme help fix it.,” you wiped away the smudged red stain from around her lips, and you smiled proudly., “Thank you sweetheart.,” she gently kissed you, catching your soft gasp as she ran her pointer finger through your slit to collect your release.

She pulled away with a cocky smirk, observing your scrunched up features as you regulated once more., “Sorry.,” she chuckled, a true sign that she wasn’t sorry whatsoever., “Mommy needed a suitable replacement.,” she winked, and your mouth fell open as she ran her finger over her plump limps, a thin sheen of your slick now serving as a unique cosmetic choice.

It was honestly the hottest thing you’d ever seen, your wife was about to sit in a room with her esteemed colleagues with your essence proudly layered on her lips. It had you rubbing your thighs together without any hesitation.

“I’ll be back shortly detka, don’t you even think of touching yourself, mommy will know.,” with a devious wink sent your way she was gone out the door , and you fell into the mattress with a huff., “My Natty, and her annoying spy senses.”

———

1,077 Words

Bonus blurb #2 during my lil hiatus

❤️ Kaitlyn 🤭

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff pov #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

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brights-place · 3 months

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Jeff The Killer with an Mute! S/O

Pairings: Jeff the killer X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of gore, Dating headcannons

A/N: Jeff the killer dating an mute reader that me and my friends were talking long and hard about how each creepypasta would date an S/O who is mute :>>

- When you were first introduced he tried to annoy you and get you to talk smack back to him caus he wanted to fight someone since Jane was on an mission and Jeff itched for an fight

- He’s suspicious of you at first when you don't reply - Even more so that you don’t talk. But if you prove you’re not a threat in other ways, he doesn’t actually mind it all that much... JK HE DOES MIND LIKE WHY AIN'T YOU FIGHTING OR YELLING AT HIM!

- He complains and cruses you out as you just stared at him - Jeff is annoyed how you hangout with Smile dog who makes sure to make you feel comfy which makes Jeff confused since well... Smile wasn't nice to people actually nobody really was I mean they were Creepypastas they were creatures and beings that could kill

- When he tried to fight Liu since well that's whats siblings do you smacked him up top the head as liu cackled at how Jeff was flabbergasted as you stared him down

- He gets annoyed by everybody and since your silent he comes out of nowhere and hangs out with you as he says "Shut up" when not knowing you were mute cause he never knew you were mute

- Ends up going on tangents or rants about the others while you just sit there and kind of annoyed yet staring down at him making sure he is comfortable - He knows it can get annoying to just have to listen but he’s extremely grateful for the outlet. - he can bitch about his day only to turn around and find you still there, listening intently.

- Sooner or later he watches you do sign language talking to EJ, Toby, and Nina as you just nodded shook your head or just did sign language which he connected the dots quickly finding out that you were mute

- most of the time he is translating for those who can't understand you when you use sign language when Jeff can't is when he's on his missions and off to kill some people

- Other then that he would be by your side making sure your safe and are alright When he speaks he forgets that he's doing sign language while speaking whenever your near and people point it out he rolls his eyes

- He gets used to your silence and can't help but when he feels pissy just walks towards were you are in your room or in the kitchen kick open the door and grab you and lay his head on your shoulder

- He didn't understand sign language so he just focused on when you're looking at something or someone in a certain way, how your eyebrows furrow. how you squint your eyes, the way your lips curve up or downwards with something he likes and dislikes.

- He could read your thoughts and what you want to say but can't at all but try to explain in sign language to you and say's fuck it and just speaks to you as you nod your head listening. - He switches from checking to verbal confirmation to physical confirmation - When you two are out at night not doing missions you take an stroll before jeff then goes on an rampage out of boredom - You were making sure that jeff was careful when you noticed an couple watching them afar since you knew that they had an child but also knew that why you two killed the two parents cause they were Junkies and quiet emotionally abusive towards their own child so of course you had to kill the two so you brought Jeff!

- When he is on an mission his knife digging into the skin of an 30 year old couple while their daughter was fast asleep in her room not knowing about what was happening downstairs.

- You couldn't help but watch Jeff ripping the parents skin with his knife carving an smile as he turns towards you when you stomped your foot lightly two times on the floor is what you two used to say its time to go since he well he and you have your own secret language

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer #jeff woods #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #Jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanon #Jeff the killer x reader

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 7 months

Note

I don’t know how to say this but I am in love with your polyproxies. Your writing is so well thought out and amazing I AM BEGGING FOR MORE. I’ll do anything! You’re amazing btw

Hi love!! I’m so glad you like it! I’ve honestly been having a really hard time getting motivation to write smut so I hope this will do! You’re absolutely amazing too!! 🖤🖤

POLY PROXIES PT.2

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: None just poly with the proxies 🫡

Warnings: SMUT, face fucking, cum swallowing, recording, unprotected sex, creampie, oral female receiving, nutting on the readers face 😎

Fucked brainless, that’s what you were. Taking them all so well whenever they wanted. You were theirs and they let you know it. They loved the way you took them without complaint. Letting Toby abuse your mouth and Tim twist you into whatever dirty position he wanted you.

You know… Tim doesn’t exactly take lightly to complaints. So when you tell him “yes sir” it’s like music to his ears.

Currently Brian’s sits in the chair on the opposite side of the room, slowly stroking his throbbing cock. His video camera in his other hand, which currently, is zoomed in on your drooling mouth as Toby goes to town. The boy was fucking your mouth like an animal in heat. Like he hadn’t gotten his rocks off in months. And you, being so damn good, were taking him so well.

Toby’s desperate moans and sinful whines filled the small bedroom as he absolutely abused your mouth. He could barely open his eyes to watch you he was so washed away by the bliss that was slowly building inside him.

“Yes! Yes- F-fuuuuck-“ Toby cried out desperately only taking two more harsh thrusts for him to come undone. His hot seed slid easily down your throat as he collapsed next to you on the bed. His chest was heaving and his mind so clouded he couldn’t do anything but hold your limp hand as Tim fucked you further into oblivion.

Brian focused the camera on your pretty pink pussy that he was so desperate to get a taste of. He watched Tim with envious eyes, watching as your hole happily invited his cock in. He watched as your slick ran down the insides of your thighs, seeing the shine against Tim’s lower abdomen. He could barely wait for his own turn.

Tim let out low grunts and growls with every thrust, praising you for being so so good for him.

“Damn sweetheart, your pussy wants me to come fast huh?” He groaned out as his head rolled back.

He loved the way you squeezed around him, like your tiny hole was desperate for more. More of his deliciously thick cock that filled you up just the right way to have your toes curling.

“So pretty for me too~” He harshly grabbed your jaw, pulling you up to meet him so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. His strong arms made holding you in the complex position look easy. His large fingers found their way to your mouth, replacing his soft lips and prodding you to suck them like the dumb little bitch you were.

You felt his thrusts getting sloppy, or at least you thought so, honestly your mind wasn’t processing much more than the ecstasy you were feeling.

His grunts slowly turned into low moans as he finished inside of you. He pulled out slowly, replacing his cock with his thick fingers, stuffing your pretty hole and making sure not a drop could escape. He motioned with his head for Brian to come closer, finally letting him have his turn.

Brian couldn’t even keep the camera still as he jumped up and raced over to have you. He pushed Tim out of the way, handing him the camera which Tim grumpily focused on the scene that would unfold in front of him. Brian practically jumped at the chance to taste you, taste your slick and Tim’s seed combined. With one long stripe of his tongue he already had you whining, your pretty thighs about suffocating him.

But god did he love it. He loved how close you made him just by crushing him with your perfect thighs. And on top of how absolutely delectable you tasted?? He could die happy now.

He held your thighs apart just enough to give him breathing room as he attacked your clit with kisses and licks. He absolutely loved how he could get your thighs to shake when he pulled away just before you were about to come. Once, twice, three times, four times. By the time he had finally let you finish you were on the verge of passing out. Cute tears in your eyes, thighs shaking, and sobs wracking your body.

Oh how it was too much for you to get used by the three men around you. It made them all laugh how ruined you looked.

“Come on pretty, give me a lick.” Brian smirked as he got up, putting his cock inches from your swollen lips. “Come on, I know you got it in ya’.”

Being so good like always, you took his length in your mouth, tears falling as you did as he asked. Brian ripped the camera from Tim’s hands, putting it in your face to get a nice close up angle. Watching through the viewfinder it didn’t take long at all for him to finish. How absolutely filthy you were being was just the icing on the cake for him. He let his load go right on your pretty face, painting you just how he wanted before he turned the camera off and put it down on the side table.

Toby happily licked your face, ‘cleaning’ you up and giving you a sloppy kiss right after. Brian laid on your right, giving you a soft forehead kiss, silently letting you know how good you did.

“Toby you know your place.” Tim grumbled, pushing him off the bed and taking his place next to you on the left.

With an irritated glare to Tim, Toby helped put your shorts on and took his place in-between your thighs, resting his head.

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta requests #tim wright #masky x reader #masky marble hornets #masky #hoodie #hoodie x reader #hoodie marble hornets #brian thomas #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #proxies #creepypasta proxies #asks open #request #UNEDITED SORRY NOT SORRY

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months

Text

I Burn : Part Two

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | PART THREE

It was the weekend. You were relived. It meant no group sessions until Monday & the weekend was yours to do with as you pleased. Most often you spent time in either your room or the common space, making small talk with other patients. It was nothing like your weekends from before—going out with the few friends who could stand you, hitting the beach, or going shopping—but you were looking forward to it, nonetheless. All you had to do was get through your one on one session with Dr. Mooney. And you were anticipating it being a humiliating one, thanks to Renee.

You showered quickly & changed into a PJ set before making your way to Dr. Mooney’s office. Your fingers were tangled together, your nerves skyrocketing. As you passed near the front desk, you saw Nurse Carney out of her typical work clothes. She was dressed in a tank top, denim shorts, & cardigan. Hmm, must be her day off, you thought to yourself.

Dr. Mooney’s door was open when you entered. He was at his desk, typing away on his laptop. Since he hadn’t noticed you, you rapped lightly on the doorframe. He raised his eyes to meet yours. Your spine shivered.

“_____, welcome!” He greeted with that godly handsome smile on his face. He looked stellar in his button-up & tie, & the jeans he wore hugged him in all the right places. You forced yourself to keep your eyes from ogling him.

“Morning.” You kept your voice low.

Dr. Mooney came around his desk & approached you, reaching for the door to close it behind you, “Take a seat & we’ll get started.”

His office was homey & comfortable, which you imagined to be the point so you & other patients would feel at ease. But little did Dr. Mooney know that just being in the same room as him often made it hard for you to breathe, to control your urges & invasive thoughts. Dr. Mooney sat across from you while you got as comfortable as possible on the couch opposite him.

“How are you this morning?” This was the only time he worked without a clipboard. During the one-on-one’s Dr. Mooney simply listened & was present. His eyes would never leave you & you wished for nothing more that he would distract himself with writing down notes.

“Fine.” You replied with a forced smile. He chuckled lightly, “And how did you sleep?”

You shrugged. In reality you slept like a baby. After you had gotten yourself off in the calm room—three times—your body was more than willing to slip into a deep slumber.

“Not well?”

“No, I slept okay.” You assured him.

“Great.” He smirked, a hand placed under his chin, hid index finger running along the length of his jaw. Oh, how you wished to hold his face as you rode him.

“_____?”

You jumped as he spoke your name.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. Lost in thought.” Lost, indeed.

“Since you were unable to partake in group discussion yesterday, we can start with the questions I asked the group.”

You were okay with that. Saturday’s morning sessions were always shorter to get a jumpstart on the weekend. You’d only be here for fifteen minutes or so, so your answers could be sweet & short without pressure.

“What thoughts or feelings have you had this week regarding your ability to function with your addiction?”

The question danced around your mind for some time. Honestly, you didn’t think much about it, but you couldn’t say that.

“I really don’t think it affected my life much.” You answered, your hands pressed against each other between your thighs. “I wasn’t in school, wasn’t working. My free time was really just hanging out by myself or with my friends.”

“Mhmm.” Dr. Mooney nodded, “And what about moving forward? Should your treatment work, have you thought about how your addiction could affect your life? You can’t be unemployed forever.”

With your parents’ money you absolutely could, but again, you couldn’t say that.

“Well if treatment works I won’t need to worry about it, right?”

“Unfortunately, that is rarely the case, _____.” Dr. Mooney leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands before him, making the veins in his forearms protrude. “People who are in recovery are oftentimes in the most vulnerable position. It’s where all your lessons, self-care, medications, routine, etc. are crucial to your improvement, & you—the addict—have to hold yourself accountable for that change.”

The thought unsettled you. Of course, deep down, you didn’t truly think you had a problem—you just liked sex more than most, but everyone else seemed to disagree. So you agreed with them to save face. But what worried you is that if treatment didn’t work, if you did have a problem, your parents wouldn’t have your back forever. After all, they put you in here. Could you be trusted on your own?

“Let’s do a scenario.” Dr. Mooney pondered a thought, “Treatment works. You’re out of here in 10 weeks. Jump to three months in recovery. You’re in school. It’s midterms. You have hours of studying ahead of you if you want a passing grade. You’re in a private corner of the library, it’s late at night. You’re tired, anxious, looking for anything to get you out of your head, out of studying. Just a break, that’s all you need. You get a text message from a friend—a male friend. He’s your age, there’s been light flirtatious banter. He asks you to come study with him at his apartment. What do you do?”

You gulped. You knew the right answer, & you also knew your answer.

“Ask if we can study together next time?”

Dr. Mooney smiled, “That’s not bad. There’s no wrong answer here. This is to practice responsibility.”

“But I wouldn’t be the only person blowing off steam. Others do it all the time.” You debated, “Especially college students.”

“But you are not most college students, _____. You are different, & that’s okay. But you need to work with that difference to better yourself. Of course, with lots of practice, holding yourself accountable, it’ll become easy. The more you do it, the less you’ll struggle. But the struggle will always be there. It’s a matter of overcoming it every single time.”

“So I have to celibate?” You rolled your eyes. Your parents would love that.

“No, no.” Dr. Mooney smiled, shaking his head, “There are many successful individuals out there who were in similar positions to yourself, who have a healthy relationship with sex. And that is the goal. A healthy relationship with it.”

You sighed, giving up, “Okay. I guess.”

Dr. Mooney then moved into the next topic. The dreaded topic.

“How often are you masturbating?”

It wasn’t a question you weren’t used to. He asked it weekly so far. But after yesterday, you felt heat bloom in your cheeks.

“Everyday.” You mumbled, picking at the hem of your shirt.

“Okay.” Dr. Mooney pressed his lips together in thought, “And do you need to?”

Again, you rolled your eyes, “No, but yes. It hurts if I don’t.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, like, I don’t know. Burns. Getting off helps.”

“And yesterday, in the woods…”

“Yeah.” You hung your head, “Urge came. I took care of it.”

“Right.” Dr. Mooney leaned back but he didn’t look displeased, just concerned. You were relieved with that at least. However, you dreaded him asking about what Renee had said yesterday; that it was his name on your lips. You couldn’t even recall saying it out loud, but apparently you had. Fortunately, he never brought it up.

“Perhaps we will find other ways for you to fulfill that…burn. Practice discipline.”

“How though?”

“Well, we’ll try new things. For this weekend though, anytime you get the urge really try to avoid it. The human brain is complex. It takes a lot of training to reroute behaviors. So, we’ll start small. Your homework for the weekend: anytime you feel the need to masturbate, I want you to write in your journal. Anytime you have an urge over the weekend, instead of masturbating, I want you to write about what you could be doing instead. The sky is the limit.”

“Anything? Like sleeping? That’ll be quick.”

“Sure. But perhaps if you get the urge when you should be sleeping, write about dreams you could be having whilst asleep. Use your imagination. And try to stray from sexual thoughts. I want you to really push yourself to not act on your sexual impulses.”

“So, no getting off is what you’re saying?”

“That is the goal, yes. I don’t expect immediate results, but this is practice. So practice.”

You sighed, nodding, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Perfect.” Dr. Mooney stood up, “Well, unfortunately our time is up. But come Monday morning I hope to hear some progress, alright?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Saturday dragged on. You spent a majority of your time in the common space, paying little attention to the TV & the sounds of other patients milling about around you. A journal sat in your lap. Dr. Mooney had given it to you before you left his office. You savored the gift, though it was hardly a gift. But it was his. And you savored that.

It was a little past six when an employee announced that it was dinner time. You followed the others into the cafeteria. It was soup & bread night. There was four soups to choose from, a tray of breads, & a side of veggies. You chose the broccoli cheese soup with a half loaf of bread that reminded you of the kind from The Cheesecake Factory & a side of green beans & steamed carrots. Your drink of choice was a Fiji water.

You sat at your usual table in the corner by the window, facing away from the rest of the room. Though you had done virtually nothing all day, you were tired, bored out of your mind. More so, you hadn’t gotten that burning feeling that you had talked about. It only kind of concerned you.

As you sat in silence, eating by yourself, you were lost in thought, unaware of the figure approaching your table. It wasn’t until the chair next to you screeched lightly against the floor that you finally noted them. When your eyes landed on the blue pairs next to you, you immediately felt your muscles tense, your walls go up.

“Hey, nympho.” The new kid, Rafe, smirked as he dipped his bread into his bowl of soup.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Your voice nearly inaudible, too in shock from his insulting greeting.

Rafe chewed, the smug smirk never leaving his face. He had a dimple on the left side of his face that drew your attention. Regretfully, it only made him…cuter.

“That’s your nickname, isn’t it?”

“No.” You looked away, your voice hard, “It’s not.”

Rafe continued to eat beside you, & you could feel his eyes watching you as you twirled your spoon around your soup, your appetite suddenly lost.

“Stop. Staring.” You hated how goosebumps were appearing on your skin, how your spine tingled. You bit your lip. His attention was…not helping.

“So, sex addict, huh? Kinda bogus, in my opinion.” He commented.

You felt your brows furrow, “I guess.”

“I mean, sex is normal. I think people should be having more of it, then there’d be less assholes, right?” He knocked his knee into yours. You parted your lips at the contact. Oh no. You let go of the spoon in your hand, dropping your hands to your lap. Your thighs tensed.

“I think it’s just because you’re a girl.” At that, you finally looked at him. You didn’t miss how his eyes trailed the length of you, again, until his eyes met yours. “Gotta be all modest as a female. But no one bats an eye at a guy who likes to fuck a lot.”

Words failed you, but his opinion stuck with you. Would it be different if you were a guy? Would your parents have put you in here? Surely they wouldn’t care about a boy who acts like a boy, but god forbid they have a floozy as a daughter..

“I’m right, ya know.” Rafe shrugged, “I don’t think either of us should be here.”

“Maybe we’ll prison break.” You shared thoughtlessly.

Rafe grinned proudly at that, “Run away together, huh?”

You shook the thought from your head. It would surely lead your thoughts astray.

Standing up from your seat, you grabbed your tray of food.

“Aw, don’t let me scare you away.” Rafe leaned back in his seat to smile up at you, “I swear I’m a nice guy.”

You didn’t need to know him well to know that wasn’t true.

Ignoring him, you dumped your food in a nearby trash, placed your tray near the window to the kitchen, & left the room. You fingered the journal in your hand, your nails digging into the back of it. Your breathing was becoming labored, that burning feeling in the pit of your center returning. You stifled a groan by biting your lip. You wanted to take care of it, to disappear into your room for ten minutes. But you thought of Dr. Mooney. Regardless if you thought you had a real problem or not, you didn’t want to let him down.

Once you got to your room, you shut the door. There was no locks on them, but other patients knew not to walk into someone’s room without knocking first. You’d be safe & alone.

Depositing yourself at the desk in your room, you flipped open the journal & snagged a pen from a holder to your left.

I could be eating right now. Enjoying the rest of my food instead of dumping it. I could be savoring every bite, imagining myself at The Cheesecake Factory. I could be ordering the classic cheesecake, & ordering another one to take home. I could be in the car with my parents as they traded small talk. I could be staring out the window with a full stomach. I could be anxious to get home so I can keep watching the newest season of KUWTK. I could be home, in my room, in my house. I could not be here. I could have better parents.

You slammed the pen down, having grown frustrated instead. The burning was mostly gone, having been replaced with anger. You huffed, your arms crossed in front of you. Rafe’s words echoed in your head. I think it’s because you’re a girl.

God, fuck your parents. Rafe wasn’t wrong! You didn’t have a problem! Not a real one, anyway. Your only problem was that you were born to conservative parents who cared more about their image & careers than their own daughter. You liked sex, but you weren’t dependent on it. You didn’t need to have it, but you liked having it. Just like everyone else, especially guys your age.

Pushing yourself back from your desk, you paced around your room, shaking away your nerves. Your anxiety was growing. It was too early in the evening for the nurse’s to make their rounds & give patients their prescribed medication. You’d have to distract yourself in the meantime.

Back in the common space, you were glad to see the TV was unoccupied & the room empty. You crashed onto the couch, flicking the TV on. After scrolling through the cable guide, you chose to watch Spongebob reruns. You were only a couple minutes into the episode when a figure appeared from the main entrance. Rafe. You sighed.

Rafe came to stand by the couch, at the end where your head was resting, but did not sit. In your peripheral, you saw his hands in his pockets as he stared at the TV. His presence was lingering, his shadow practically over you as he just stood there. You couldn’t enjoy the show like this.

Sitting up, you huffed, glaring up at him, “Can I help you?”

“Nah.” Rafe didn’t look at you, “Just enjoying the nostalgia of my childhood.”

Your eyes flicked from him back to the TV. You could sense that he was enjoying this despite his dismissive response. There was that hint of a smug smirk on his face. You licked your lips, annoyed.

“Can you just…go away? Please.”

Rafe finally looked at you, feigning surprise. He looked around the room, as if confused. “Oh, did you reserve the room?

You felt your jaw tick. Would you have to hide in your room all night? Because this guy was definitely not getting the point. Instead, you forced yourself to try to ignore him. After a minute or so, he finally sat. Right next to you. You shifted, moving to the furthest end of the couch. Rafe shamelessly followed. He was being invasive, annoying. You imagined that this is what it was like to have a brother.

“Am I ruining this for you?” He asked, his voice low, too close for comfort. Dangerous, even.

But you knew he was egging you on. You had to not give him what he was looking for.

“Nope.” But your body language said otherwise & you knew it. Rafe smirked, widening his legs until his left one grazed against your own. You tucked your legs under you, the goosebumps returning. Then he stretched his arms along the back of the couch. His left hand just over your left shoulder. Your spine tingled.

It took everything in you to not look at him, to glare at him, to admire the features of his face or take your own once over of him. You battled with your desire to appreciate him, his attention, how close he was. Fuck, did you have a problem? It wouldn’t be the first time, or probably last, that you’d be attracted to a royal douchebag, but he was intentionally being one. And yet, you couldn’t help but be curious about him.

“Hey.” Rafe leaned close, his breath fanning the side of your face. Your hands gripped your thighs, tensing up. “Do you mind turning it up a little? Hard to hear it past your heavy breathing.”

You whipped your head to face him. He was close. Your noses practically touching. Rafe stared into your eyes & you his. As he had you locked in, you noticed that your breathing was indeed heavy. You were losing control.

“See something you like?” Your eyes fell to his lips. You imagined them on your neck, your breasts, down below…

Rafe smirked, “Gotcha.”

Shooting forward from your spot on the couch, you rushed from the common space to your room. You through a smiteful look over your shoulder as Rafe chuckled softly to himself.

“Goodnight, nympho.”

Fuck you. You slammed the door to your room & collapsed onto your bed.

The burning consumed you.

It was Sunday. The worst day. Community outreach day.

Every Sunday, your group goes out & does community service. A way to give back, but also—as Dr. Mooney says—to remind yourselves that there are things bigger than yourself. You didn’t buy it though. Never have you done community work & the last two times you had done it since being there didn’t change your mind about how a waste of time it was.

Nurse Carney, like usual, was to lead the group for the day. And the community project you would be participating in on that Sunday was working with at-risk youth to build a garden center for the elderly at a nearby senior home. You already didn’t enjoy the idea of getting dirty & sweating all day under the summer sun.

After getting dressed, you joined the others near the front of the facility where the lobby was. Siena & Albert were already there, talking quietly to one another. Nurse Carney was filling out paperwork while you all waited for the other two. Both of whom you’d be happy to leave without.

You said your ‘hey’s’ to Albert & Siena before sitting in a chair nearby. Shortly after, Renne, followed by Rafe a minute later, appeared.

“We’re all here.” Nurse Carney gleamed, “Van is waiting! Let’s get going.”

As you waited to climb in after the others, relieved that Renee opted for passenger, you only realized too late that Albert & Siena took the rear row, leaving the middle row for you & Rafe Cameron. As you buckled in on the farthest side, loathing the seating arrangement of the van, you tried to ignore him as he sat directly next to you. He had no choice. There was no middle seat. Just the left one you were in & then the one that would be considered the middle seat if there was a right seat. But where the right seat should have been was a gap to make accessing the third row easier.

Nurse Carney turned in her seat, double checking everyone was buckled like you all were her precious toddlers, before turning the ignition on & exiting the rounded pull-through of the facility driveway.

As the van rumbled beneath you, you felt a small, cool sensation near the top of your knees. Your eyes flashed to touch, finding Rafe’s index knuckle grazing the exposed skin there. You shoved his hand away & crossed that leg over the other, angling your body as best as you could to face away from him.

But in the reflection of the window, you saw that goddamn fucking annoying smirk on his face. And then his eyes met yours in the reflection.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not let him get to you. But it was only nine in the morning.

You resented the long gruesome day ahead of you.

part two! please share your thoughts & feelings via comments, reblogs w reviews, or dropping an ask. it's early days for this work so please talk to me so i stay motivated to write it more often.

as always, thank you for reading.

beau<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!fic #non con fic #dark!fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #dark!outer banks #i burn part two

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sevcasejay1chicago · 9 months

Text

Babysitting mishaps- Severide/Jay Halstead/ Casey

Summary: when Jay picks you up from you job that you do on your off shifts, he is concerned when you remain silent on the way home. What’s going through your mind?

Warnings: honestly, this is mental abuse so be warned, some language I think.

Authors note: First, if you are in this type of situation, GET OUT (I am preaching to myself, but please get out of that situation). Second, this is not an ask, but it’s something I needed to vent out and get out, so I hope you enjoy some fluff and maybe a glimps onto my own life….

~~~~~~~~~~~

You have been a babysitter on your off shifts for years. If you hadn’t been a paramedic, you would have greatly considered being a pediatrician. Other than being a paramedic, your other life purpose is to take care of children.

You’ve had your good and your bad families. You have always tried your best to just do your job and stay out of the way, but this was the last straw. You hate driving, so you sit silently in the passenger seat of Jay’s truck.

Jay sighs as he glanced over at you once more. “Baby. Talk to me.” Jay basically begged, resting a hand on your thigh as he turns onto the road to the town house that you both share with Matt and Kelly.

You shook your head and kept your gaze plastered out of the window. You couldn’t talk now. As it was, you were barely holding it together with Jay’s gentle touch and soft voice. The second you opened your mouth, you were sure that you would burst into tears.

Jay sighed again and left his hand on your thigh as he smoothly pulled into a parking space. Jay turned off the truck and sat with you quietly. He knew better than to rush you, but he also knew to follow your lead until it was no longer beneficial to you.

Sighing, you looked at Matt and Kelly’s cars in the driveway. If you were going to talk about it, you were going to only say it one time. So, you readied yourself before you got out of the truck, squeezing Jay’s hand before hopping down and making a beeline for the front door.

The door was unlocked, so you walked straight in. Kelly was sat at the counter, watching Matt make dinner for the four of you. Normally, you would go in and help straight away, kissing both Matt and Kelly with a gentle smile. Tonight, you walked straight to the bedroom and shut the door, needing a minute to yourself while you changed into some comfy clothes, which consisted of Jay’s Army sweatshirt with Matt’s fireman shirt and Kelly’s sweats.

As soon as Jay came in, Matt and Kelly shared a look before Kelly finally spoke. “Alright, what’s going on with her?”

“I don’t know. Honest.” Jay said, holding up his hands. “She’s been quiet since I picked her up. She wouldn’t say a word the whole way home and you both know she normally gushes about whatever she did with the kids.” Jay said, coming to sit next to Kelly.

Matt turned and grabbed a beer from the fridge, setting it down in front of Jay. “She’ll either come to us when she is ready or start crying. Either way, we all need to stay calm and be rational.” Matt said, giving Jay a pointed look.

“What? You think I can’t be calm and rational?” Jay asked, taking a sip of his beer.

Kelly chuckled. “Please. You are so protective over her. I guarantee that you will be fuming and threatening to kill whoever upset her as soon as she tells us what’s wrong.” Kelly commented, tipping his bottle toward Jay as he spoke before taking a sip himself.

“Like you have room to talk.” Matt laughed, shaking his head as he turned to continue dinner.

A few minutes later, you came out of the bedroom in your comfy clothes, making a beeline for Kelly. He placed his beer down and opened his arms, taking you into his embrace as he met the eyes of your other two partners.

“Hey baby.” Kelly whispered, kissing the top of your head. “You doing okay?” Kelly lightly probed.

You grunted into him, bringing your sweatshirt covered hands between the two of you like you were trying to hide yourself in his embrace. Kelly could feel you shaking and immediately started rubbing your back to try and generate some heat.

“Jay, go grab her blanket please.” Kelly said, giving Matt a look as Jay jogged quickly into the living room and came back, wrapping you up.

Kelly lifted you into his lap and gently rocked you before deciding that the couch would be more comfortable and moved into the living room. Jay followed suit and then Matt came in, having turned off the stove and covered up dinner to finish later.

“Sweetheart. Please talk to us.” Matt said, sitting down beside Kelly.

“I-I can’t do it anymore.” You whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “He Al-always yells a-and cur-curses at the kids.” You shook your head, letting out a sob. “I can’t h-help them. I can’t w-watch it anymore.” You said, choking on a sob as Kelly pulled you closer into his embrace.

“Shhhh breathe baby. Just breathe.” Kelly whispered, bringing your face into his neck.

Jay was seeing red but kept his comments to himself for the time being. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do legally. He’s seen worse and those parents still kept their kids. “Baby. Has he acted this way toward you?” Jay asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded slightly into Kelly’s neck but couldn’t make yourself say anything. Matt reached over and held Jay’s hand, squeezing it and telling him to breathe with his eyes. Jay was fuming. Nobody talks to his partners like that, but you needed him right now.

“Baby. Are you planning on going back?” Matt asked, using his free hand to rub your arm.

You shook your head no again and your lovers all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. Good girl.” Jay praised. “He needs to figure out what he’s lost. Nobody else would deal with that behavior either.” Jay said, hoping to consul you.

“B-but the kids.” You sobbed. “He-he’s mentally d-damaging them. Developmentally.” You said, shaking as you realized that you left those kids with an emotionally unavailable father who’s only goal was to keep them alive until they turned 18, emotions be damned. You felt sick. You sat up and covered your mouth, staring wide eyed at Matt.

“Sh Sh Sh. Breathe.” Matt said, taking your face in his hands. He knew you were just panicking. “Your alright. In, 1,2,3. Out 1,2,3. Good.” Matt guided and praised you.

Jay got up to grab a wash cloth and a water as Kelly held you and Matt worked on getting you calmed down. He needed a second himself. Of course, once Jay returned, Matt and Kelly had you calmed down and reclined on Kelly’s lap. Jay wiped your face gently and then guided the water to your lips while he placed the wash cloth on the back of your neck. You would be okay eventually, and Jay may have a conversation with the dad on a later date, but nobody else needed to know that.

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #jay halstead #matt casey #kelly severide #fluff #matt casey x reader #comfort #jay halstead x reader #kelly severide x reader

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pinkandblueblurbs · 2 years

Text

after-party

jim hopper x fem!reader. fluff. age gap (reader is college aged), underage drinking, drunkenness, lightly implied child abuse (just to be safe), suggestiveness, references to sex

a/n: i wrote this to take place sometime after this little headcanon, so reader and hopper have that pre-established history.

a/n 2: this is not proofread and im not very happy with it but its my first full hop piece so. yeah. take it as you will

word count: 2k

You barely hear the shouts or the pounding on the door, barely blink open your eyes to see the lines of kids walking by the couch you occupy and towards the exit. The sounds and lights all hurt your pounding head, so you opt to let yourself slip into a comfortable unconsciousness as much as you can.

You’re pulled back to reality by a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently while a low baritone speaks to you.

“C’mon, kid. Wake up.”

You force your eyes open with a groan, and despite the too-bright lights and fuzziness of your vision you manage to recognize the serious face before you.

“Hopper...?” You murmur blearily, mouth dry and mind sluggish. “What’re- oh, shit.”

“Yeah, shit.” He echoes. “You’re busted.” He rises from his crouch, nodding towards the door, and you try to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the way he looks looming over you. “Stand up, it’s time to go.”

It takes you a few long seconds to process his words, and he watches you while you do, looking unimpressed as you blink at him. “Can you stand up?”

“Course I can stand up.” You finally reply, swinging your legs over the side of the sofa and planting your feet on the floor. That movement alone has your head spinning, but the alcohol has stripped you of your reasoning, so rather than take a moment to collect yourself you shoot right to your feet.

It feels like standing on a boat, like the ground is tilting under you, but you only have to sway there for a moment before strong hands are reaching out to grip your arms and hold you steady.

“I’ve got you, kid.” Hopper moves to your side, still holding you upright as he starts taking slow steps towards the door. You follow his lead, using all of your concentration to not trip over your own feet. “Let’s get you home.”

You hum, picturing your soft bed and warm sheets, eager to be back in a horizontal position. Being upright makes your headache worse, and every time you move the contents of your stomach threaten to rise up through your throat. Yeah, going home sounds nice.

You make it all the way out to Hopper’s car- with only a few near wipe-outs and mutters of “careful”- before you remember it’s not your bed that will be at the door to greet you.

“Wait-” Hopper’s opening the passenger side door and you reach out to push it closed again, ignoring his annoyed huff. “I can’t go home.”

“You can’t go home?” He looks down at you as you lean haphazardly against his car. “Why’s that?”

“My parents,” you slur, “my parents will be pissed.”

“Your parents will be pissed.” He keeps doing that- repeating what you say back to you, as if he wants you to hear how stupid it sounds. You scowl. “Pissed at you for going to a party full of underaged drinking and getting the cops called on you? I’d be mad too, kid.”

You shake your head, eyes wide and heart thrumming at the mere thought of facing your parents. “No, you don’t get it. They’ll be really mad.” Something in his face softens as he looks down at you and sees the unmasked fear in your expression. He sighs, and once again reaches for the door handle.

“Alright, well, you can’t stay here.” He opens the door. “Get in.”

You let him coax you into the passenger seat, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when your butt is firmly planted and you no longer have to rely on your legs to keep you upright. You grab for the seatbelt and pull it over your body while Hopper closes the door and goes around to the driver’s side.

“You buckled?” He asks once he’s settled, looking over at you and assessing the strap across your front.

“Yup.” You respond, popping the p. A faint smile crosses Hopper’s face, and he starts the car.

“Then we’re off.”

You rest your forehead against the window as he drives, watching the blur of trees and road signs that whir by. There’s a heavy silence for a few moments, until Hopper speaks.

“You go to that party alone?” He asks. He’s trying to sound casual, but even in your inebriated haze you catch on to the tension in his voice, and you know you’re in for a lecture.

“No,” you murmur softly, picking idly at your cuticle, “went with friends.”

“With friends.” You can feel him glance at you, but you keep your eyes trained out the window. “And these friends just up and left you? Left you passed out on the couch?”

“Guess so.” You shrug. You can hear Hopper intake a sharp breath.

“What are your friends’ names?” His strained tone brings you to finally look at him. Your stomach flips anxiously when you see the angry furrow of his brow. He glances at you again, and your nerves must be visible on your face, because he looks back at the road and speaks again.

“I’m not mad, kid. I’m not gonna get you and your friends in trouble.” He still sounds rigid, but the words are genuine. “I’m just curious to know what kind of assholes would leave you like that.”

You keep your gaze on him, studying his profile as he watches the road. Your foggy mind wanders briefly, taking in his handsome features and remembering the last time you’d seen him. You look at his hands on the wheel, remembering the way they felt gripping your waist.

You blink a few times to clear your head, struggling to remember the conversation at hand. Something about being left alone by your “asshole friends.”

“I’m alright, y’know.” You murmur after the long pause, unsure what else to say.

He takes one more glance at you, takes in your slouched posture and glassy eyes, remembers you stumbling out to the car. You think for a second that he’s going to argue, but he just sighs and turns forward again.

“Yeah.” His voice has turned softer, almost reassuring, though you can’t tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself. “You’re alright now.”

The rest of the drive passes in silence. Once the car pulls up to the small cabin Hopper gets out, then moves around to help you do the same.

He walks you up to the door and lets you inside then guides you over to the couch, which you unceremoniously flop onto.

“You can sleep there, alright? I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.”

You hum your assent, looking around the small space curiously while he pops into another room. A few moments later he comes back with a knitted blanket and a somewhat limp, deflated looking pillow. He tosses both to you, and you don’t move to catch them, you just track them with your eyes as they land on your lap.

“Get comfortable.” He instructs gruffly before turning and walking into the small kitchen.

You do as you’re told, leaning the pillow against the armrest of the couch, folding it over once so it has some mass to it. Before you can lay down Hopper’s back at the side of the sofa, glass of water in hand.

“Here,” he holds it out to you, and you take it without question.

“The bathroom’s that door right there, and I’ll be in my room there if you need anything.” He points out the two rooms then nods at the glass in your hand.

“Now drink that and get some sleep. Alright?” You nod, eyes flitting up to him as you start to drink. He offers you a satisfied nod of his own and turns to walk away, disappearing into his bedroom.

You drink half and set down the glass, the fluid sloshing uncomfortably in your already agitated stomach. He must hear the heavy thud as it meets the table, because he calls out “all of it, kid! You’ll thank me in the morning.”

With a frown you pick the glass back up- because he’s right, you’re in for a miserable hangover as it is- and down the rest of the water.

You try to follow his other instruction to get some sleep; you shift around on the sofa to find a position that doesn’t feel contorted, you bunch up the sorry excuse for a pillow so it can offer some support to your throbbing head.

It’s all in vain, however, because you still find yourself awake. Awake and uncomfortable and thinking about the man one room over.

Before you have a chance to give it any real thought- if you’re even capable of real thoughts at the moment- your body’s in motion, heavy feet bringing you to the doorway of Hopper’s room.

“Hop?” You step into the dark space and walk over to the bed. The man lifts his head with a groggy grunt and a confused utterance of your name.

“Need something, hon?” He lets the name slip in his tiredness, and a smile graces your lips.

“Can I sleep in here?” You ask softly, reaching out to finger over the material of his comforter. The man rubs his eyes and heaves a sigh, starting to get up. “No!” You exclaim in a rush, causing him to stop in his tracks and fix you with a disgruntled look. “I mean, can both of us sleep in here.”

He lets out another sigh. “Nice try, kid, but no. You’re drunk.”

“It’s not like that.” You murmur. “I just wanna sleep, that’s all.”

He studies you for a moment, contemplating, and you offer him your most pleading expression. Eventually, there’s a third sigh.

“Alright. C’mere.” You beam at him and practically throw yourself into the bed, colliding with his side and pulling a low “oof” from his chest. For a second you think he’s going to make you scoot over, but then he’s letting his arm drop down around you and holding you in.

He’s warm, and he smells just the way you remember, and his chest makes a far better pillow than the one from the sofa.

“This is much better.” You shift your gaze to look up at him, finding his eyes closed. He still looks serious, even so close to sleep, but he also looks a bit more peaceful.

“Yeah?” You nod against him with a soft “mhm.” “Good. Now we can both get some fucking sleep.”

You hum and close your eyes, grinning to yourself.

“Then maybe in the morning we can-“

“I said sleep.” It’s as stern and gruff as ever, but you can hear the hint of amusement in his tone. Your giggle is the last thing he hears before sleep takes you both.

—

Come morning the first thing you notice is that your head is pounding worse than the night before. The sun is bright through the blinds as you force open your eyes, and you groan, struggling for a while to convince yourself to get up out for bed.

Once you do you stumble out of the bedroom and are immediately hit with the smell of coffee and eggs. There are a pillow and blanket left abandoned on the sofa, and at the table are two sets of mugs, forks, and plastic plates. You move towards the kitchen to find Hopper’s large form standing in front of the stove. He turns to look at you.

“There she is. Morning, sunshine.” He says dryly, taking in your groggy state. All you can muster in response is a vague grunt, and he lets out a huff of amusement, pushing the eggs around in the pan.

You watch him for a moment, slowly coming back to yourself, before your gaze settles back on the made-up sofa.

“Hop,” you start, voice slightly croaky. “You didn’t have to give me the bed.”

He turns to look at you again, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a smile that you can’t quite discern. He clicks off the burner and steps away from the stove, holding the pan of eggs in hand.

“Don’t worry about it, hon.” The term makes your heart stutter. “You needed a good night’s sleep more than me. Had to sober you up somehow.” He flashes you a grin, and you return it, gratitude swelling in your chest.

“Now c’mere, have a seat.” He’s dumping a portion of eggs onto each plate. “I hope you like ‘em scrambled.”

follow and turn on notifs for @pinkandbluelibrary to know when I post a new fic!

#jim hopper #hopper stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper imagine #stranger things imagine #jim hopper fluff #stranger things fluff #stranger things 4 #david harbour

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ratbaguett-e · 1 year

Text

Heizou x GN! Reader Smut

Playing cards with Heizou. Quite the challenge.

Content: Oral sex (H receives), mild spit kink, lowkey abuse of power, Heizou being a shit (I would die for him), Reader ends up domming Heizou

~Feel free to leave a request 🔎💜

You were starting to think he explained the game slightly wrong on purpose. He had won three rounds already. Each round lasted at least five minutes longer than the last due to the intense thinking you would do before making a move. His hands were almost empty, you still had nearly a complete deck in your hands.

“I know this is rich coming from a detective…” Heizou says, “… but you really shouldn’t have to think so hard.”

That teasing accent that accompanied his words almost had you throwing your cards right at his smug face. He looked at you with his chin resting in one hand, his last two cards lazily held upright in the other.

“I have a strategy going,” you said, glaring at your full hands.

He let out a teasing giggle and took a sip of his drink. Leaning back afterwards with an exaggerated sigh and stretching his arms above his head.

“Take your time…”

He folded his arms behind his head and watched you with a smirk as you begrudgingly laid down a card. He zeroed in on the face of it, hissing through his teeth and slowly reaching towards his hand.

“Sorry to say it, but…” he laid down a similar card to yours, leaving him with his last one in hand.

“… it looks like you guessed wrong.”

You grunted in frustration, laying down your remaining cards, giving up at the thought of his inevitable win made obtainable by his singular remaining card.

“Giving up? I don’t blame you. I am pretty good at this, I know,” he says with a cheeky smile.

“I’m only giving up for this round. Could we please start over?”

You’re nearly begging him, desperate to cool down your competitive spirit and finally win one round against him so you could call it a night.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll even help you out a bit.”

You were scared at what he meant by that, he was definitely going to pull a trick in there somewhere.

After rearranging the deck and grabbing a new set, you commenced your fourth round. Your mind was clear, the fresh start would surely help you focus more.

———————————————————————————

“You have such delicate and pretty hands Y/N…”

While Heizou had made multiple assists to make your chances at winning even, he would tear you back down again with sultry remarks and (quite affective) flirting. You were losing your focus, trying not to get flustered at the comments he made.

Heizou had always been quite bold and a flirt, though you never expected him to target you at any point.

“Will you stop!? You’re interrupting my thinking process.”

He chuckles in reply before responding, “Sure. I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

You glared at him once more before deciding which card you’d lay down. He followed suit and the process continued for about another minute or so before you felt something on your ankle.

Your knee jolted up, lightly banging the table before you looked underneath it. Heizou was slowly dragging his foot up and down your leg, slightly lifting up the cuff of your pants. The action made you shutter and slightly blush. He did keep his promise to stay quiet, but that didn’t mean he had no physical way of tormenting you.

You made no comment, not caring was the best revenge after all, and continued to lay down cards and desperately try to ignore his touch under the table.

Before you knew it, he had one card left, you had four. The smug bastard decided to “stay quiet” for the entire game and not help you at all.

Heizou saw you deflate before speaking.

“If I may…” he said, getting up from his chair, “…let me see what we’re dealing with here.”

“Hey wait!”

You objected, “Isn’t this cheating? You-,”

You were cut off as he took the cards from your hands, going out of his way to brush his fingers against your own as he brought them up to his face.

He laughed before replying, “Yeah, you were screwed from the start. No worries, Let me teach you a trick.”

He handed you your hand and got behind you, leaning over the back of your chair and using his own hands to guide your own. The warmth that shot through your body at the contact didn’t go unnoticed by Heizou. He was going to have fun with this.

“See the face of my card? What you can do with this is…”

You stopped listening to him rather quickly, preoccupied by the warm body behind you and his hands guiding yours in a mock game. Him ,being the sharpest detective in Inazuma, noticed, but continued anyway. In the process he would slide his hands down your arms, speak closer into your ear, and even go as far as stroking his thumb across your knuckles that were loosely holding up the cards.

“… think you got it?”

No. You didn’t. He knew you didn’t.

“Uhm…” you meekly replied.

He got close to your ear and said lowly, “Maybe if you pay attention next time it’ll pay off.”

His hands squeezed your shoulders as he looked down at you. Flustered, not daring to look up at him until he grabbed your chin and tilted it back to meet your eyes from behind.

“What more could you possibly want from me, (Y/N), is something on your mind?”

Yes, he was on your mind in a not so innocent way. The touches and the way he spoke to you made you tingle in rather scandalous places without fail. Having him this close was almost overwhelming.

The stretch of your throat and the way his fingers firmly held your chin back made your mind blank as your eyes rolled back to meet his gaze. A devious smirk on his pink lips.

“You’re handling me… rather forcefully detective…”

The angle at which your head was bent out strain on your throat as you tried to speak. He chuckled in reply at your words, watching your throat move as you harshly swallowed.

“You seem to like it…”

His fingers softly rubbed up and down your elongated neck. Ticklish but soothing, as if he was scratching a cat under its chin.

“… perhaps you’d like me to touch you elsewhere hm?”

He gently released your jaw, his hands now running down the front of your chest, underneath your shirt. The soothing rubs of his dainty hands felt lovely, but the intent behind them sent a heat into your lower body.

Your breath hitched as he put his face by your ear.

“Perhaps I could go even lower… officer…”

The deep purr in his voice caused your ears to go hot. Before you could freeze up you were able to meekly reply-

“Yes… yes please.”

He slowly removed his hands from beneath your shirt, the neckline now slightly stretched, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was your lap, refusing to lay your eyes upon Heizou as he got in between your legs, looking down at the top of your head as you still refused to meet his eyes again.

The next thing that came into view were his nimble fingers hooking around the buckle of your belt. You let out a noise of surprise as he released it, sliding it through the loops of your pants and tightening it around his fist.

“Hmm…”

He observed the leather piece before looking back at your tense form beneath him.

“I’m getting tired of you not looking at me…”

Next thing you know he’s sliding the belt around your neck and fastening it. A makeshift leash now encasing your entire throat.

He yanked on it, making your head lurch forward towards his stomach and your eyes dart up at his seemingly taller frame.

“… in order to make it up to me, you can participate in some training. I want you to maintain this same eye contact with me while you pleasure me with your mouth. Is that simple enough for you, officer?”

You nodded your head and went to eagerly undo his pants. He adjusted his grip on the long end of the belt as you got to work.

You stared up at him with anxious eyes as you slowly took him into your mouth. One hand keeping the leash taught and the other pushing the hair out of your face and gripping onto it just as harshly.

“Have I ever told you how… mmph… charming you are officer… fuck…”

He grunted as you continued your sloppy ministrations on his hardened cock. His head tipped back towards the ceiling and his back against the edge of the table.

So much for keeping eye contact.

You took his averted gaze as an opportunity to close your eyes and suck harder, slicking up his cock with more spit as you went and making sure he felt you swallow in between.

Heizou let out a whimper, becoming distracted and loosening his grip on the makeshift leash. He finally looked down at you, seeing your eyes closed and not on him as he asked.

“Wha- hey! I s-said to- ahh!”

He let out a gasp as you quickly grabbed both of his wrists and held them against the edge of the table, fully sinking down to your knees in front of him. The added closeness giving you more power to clamp your mouth down onto him and give him even more intense sucks and overall control.

“Hah! No please!”

He whined in a panicked tone, caught off guard by the sudden change in dynamics. You being the one overpowering him this time.

You let off of him, interrupting before he could protest at the loss of stimulation to his aching dick.

“I don’t think it’s your place to make demands anymore detective…”

He was panting. Eyes watery and face flushed due to the harsh stimulation of your mouth being suddenly replaced by the cold and empty air. You made him feel so good he was on the brink of tears. The loss making him want to outright sob until you sucked him back in.

“… look at you. I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

He was at a loss for words as you stared up at him with a cold and dominant stare.

“P-please keep going. I’ll be good I promise.”

Without saying a word, you stood up and towered over his cowering body that was still pressed against the table and his wrists still engulfed in your hands.

“Get up on the table.”

He complied, moving so that his bottom was now rested on the edge of the short table strewn with random playing cards.

“Keep your hands where I can see them detective. This is your final warning.”

Words usually reserved for people being taken into custody had never sounded more erotic to him. Your authoritative tone making his dick twitch in the air, still lacking that delicious warmth he craved.

You sank back down to your knees, the slight elevation of Heizou’s body giving you a better advantage and less tension on your neck.

After checking that his hands were indeed clutching the edge of the table, you got back to work.

The loud moan that the detective let out was downright sinful and only motivated you even more. The sloppiness, the lewd squelching noises, the warmth, the pressure… Heizou is surprised he’s lasted this long.

“G-god please don’t stop. I’m c-cumming officer.”

You felt his thighs tense on your shoulders as you went faster, feeling the pulsing of his dick in your throat. Your hands reached up to grip his small waist and use his weakened body as leverage. His arms wrapping around your head as if pulling you any closer was possible.

He cried out as he hugged your head against him and shot a thick load of cum down your throat. Letting out small whimpers as you sucked him dry and swallowed what you could, the rest falling to the carpet and seeping out of your mouth.

His arms had loosened around your head, allowing both of you to catch your breath and you to look up at him.

Still flushed, still panting, Heizou looked down at you. The sight of your reddened cheeks and cum dripping down your chin was something he wished to see more of.

“It looks like I finally won detective.”

He huffed out a laugh at your words, standing up and shoving you back onto the wooden chair where you previously sat.

He then proceeded to pull out some handcuffs latched to the back of his pocket and dangled them teasingly in front of you.

“Are you kidding me…” you said with a chuckle, “…I could’ve used those.”

Heizou smirked down at you before replying, “Maybe next time officer…”

He crouched down to be eye level with you, lips barely brushing yours.

“… but now it’s my turn.”

~FIN~

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin heizou #heizou smut #heizou x reader #heizou x gender neutral reader

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darkwaveho · 2 years

Text

Damage control

Part 2

Summary: Natasha’s phone call ruined your day so why not go and ruin hers as well?

Parings: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+. Dark themes, violence, blood, detailed body torture, domestic abuse, cursing, cheating.

A/n: I had to chop this down, it was getting too long. My first attempt at a one shot 😩 all grammatical errors are my own. Not proofread.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion, did I?” She applies more force against his neck when he doesn’t respond back to her fast enough.

“Did I?” She says with more force causing the knife to break skin.

“N-no” she tuts and grits her teeth “No what?” She tilts her head waiting expectantly for the correct answer. The correct way to address her at all times. “No, you didn’t ask for my opinion boss.” She releases the hold she has on him and puts her switch blade away for the moment.

“Just because you’re new here doesn’t mean you get a pass. In fact, that means I’m gonna check you ten times harder, you would be nothing without me, isn’t that, right?” she says rhetorically. sending him a deathly glare when she sees that he was actually going to interrupt her and answer the rhetorical question. Otherwise, you’d still be on the streets scraping for food. Don’t forget who made this possible for you. I wouldn’t want to think of you as ungrateful.”

“No, of course, not boss.” she smirks at him quickly learning his place and how to address someone at her level. She moves the knife away from his neck and mockingly pats his cheek while she gives Yelena a quick head nod. “Glad we got an understanding.” When Yelena comes back, she’s dragging a solid black box along with her; the faint sound of a muffled scream can be heard from inside of it. Natasha turns to the young man nodding her head in the direction of the box.

“Open it.” Was all she said, no emotion present on her face. He looks at her in terror while his mouth goes dry. “What- what’s in it?” Natasha rolls her eyes, could he not piece things together? Did the muffled scream not give it away? She was starting to lose her patience with him, but she swore she would put more effort into working on her impulsive behavior to kill without explanation. He stands there waiting for Natasha to answer his lingering question. He gets knocked out of his thoughts when Yelena’s fist collides with his face brutally until he’s on the cold concrete floor.

Natasha allows it to go on for a moment, wanting him to truly understand the power she has over him now, she owned him, and he could easily be disposed of if he was going to be useless to her. When Natasha feels like he’s had enough she releases a distinctive whistle noise that makes Yelena stop her attacks immediately. Natasha lightly chuckles at her sister’s frustration with being cut off early. She mumbled under her breath about “Natasha never letting her have fun like she wants to.”

“When I tell you to do something, you do it! No questions asked.” she hisses at the young man while gripping the collar of his shirt. “Now open the goddamn trunk and strap him in the seat. Don’t make me tell you again. I won’t be so lenient next time you fuck up.” She shoves him to the floor. She didn’t want to be here today she had plans with you. Plans about going on vacation away from the chaotic life of being involved with mob ties. As her phone rings it seems like the universe is synchronized in her mind. She sighs as she pulls the phone out of her jacket. Not bothering to look at the screen she answers it.

“Where the hell are you?” You say through the phone loudly.

“Hello to you too my love. Listen I was going to call you but-“ you cut her off knowing how this was going to end.

“I’ve been sitting here in the living room with my luggage waiting! I don’t want to hear your excuses Nat.” you go on a rant about how tired you are of this, how you’re always the last to find out about changes. you ask her aa question that Natasha isn’t even paying attention to, too focused on the new recruit handling the dirtbag who stole from one of her many businesses. “Natasha are you even listening to me?” she slightly jolts from the loud pitch of your voice in her ear.

“Yes, my love I hear you, it’s the new recruit, he needs to be broken in.” Natasha was just as upset about it as you were, but shit had to get done. she could have let clint in charge of the new recruit but she’s the only one that can truly break someone in the way she likes.

“And why can’t someone else handle that?” you question. it seems like that wasn’t a good enough excuse, she literally had crew and henchmen for this reason. doing things, she didn’t want to do. This wasn’t even a serious situation that needed her presence. She sighs slightly growing frustrated with having this conversation again, let alone in front of everyone waiting on her to give out the next orders. “You know I like things done a certain way and-“ she hears the Dow tone on the other end of the line. You hung up on her. Definitely not a good sign for her or for you. Natasha puts her phone in her back pocket and shove the new recruit out of the way.

“You really just ruined my damn day all you had to do was follow instructions!” She punches him so quick he couldn’t even see it coming. As she falls to the ground clutching his bloody nose Natasha moves forward standing directly in front of the man responsible for stealing from her bar. Clint rolls a side table on the right side of Natasha and unfolds the cloth revealing the many sharp objects she had the options of choosing from. She didn’t have time to think much about it today all she felt was anger and she needed someone to take it out on. This was an excuse to be crueler than she normally was, and she was going to take advantage of that. She takes her blazer off, handing it to Clint so she’s just standing in her black tank top.

She picks up the sharpest knife on the table it isn’t a butcher’s knife just something light and fun. She wasn’t looking to chop off limbs, well not at the moment. She’d have to be furious to do that unwarranted. She digs the knife into his skin deeper, ignoring the gut wrenching scream he releases in her face. She decides to take it further. Her whole day was just ruined. Doing things by the book was no longer on her mind at the moment, as she thought about how pissed you sounded on the phone and how she’d be in the doghouse when she made it back to the gated mansion you two live in. Just thinking about the hole, she would have to dig herself out of had her acting on auto pilot. Natasha digs the knife into his flesh and starts making intricate movements. She calmly raises the volume in her voice for someone to get her a bowl and place it on the side table by the other torture instruments. She takes each piece of flesh and drops it into the bowl unfazed by the sight in front of her of the blood shooting out at her. Yelena slightly pouts in the corner.

“Why couldn’t I do that? She gets to have all the fun.” Natasha turns back to the young man as she points to the bowl she placed on the floor.

“And you better eat every single last bite, especially since I hand carved it for you.” Natasha turns to Clint. “And you make sure he eats it. If he vomits, make him eat that up as well.” Natasha didn’t have time to stick around today, she was too busy trying to come up with ways to make it up to you. She hates it when you’re mad at her. She would do anything to be back in your good graces. Yelena pulls a face when she sees the flesh in the bowl and at the fact that the new recruit would have to eat it, maybe she had a little sympathy for him she wasn’t as cruel as her sister, so she made him an offer.

“Psst.” she says lowly to man trembling on the ground next to the bowl. he looks up at her with furrowed brows. “You want some hot sauce to go with it?” Yelena says while holding up a small packet of host sauce. Natasha whips her head back around to her sister.

“Yelena! put your hot sauce in your pocket and sit your ass down in your chair.” Yelena scuffs and sulks her way to her assigned seat pouring herself a glass of vodka in the process.

“I was just trying to help things go down easier Satan.” she sticks her tongue out at her, Natasha thought about to asking her sister if she wanted to let out some steam and trade a few punches. lord knows she needed it herself nothing was going right for her today.

She gets pulled from her mind when a few gunshots are popped off within the metal walls of the warehouse. Acting on instinct she turns toward the sound where the gunshots were coming from and raises her own gun at the culprit. She releases her grip on the gun when her eyes are met with yours. She sighs in relief, but she can still see how pissed off you are. She still wasn’t off the hook for ditching you earlier, and you never show up at the warehouse unannounced so she knows you must be beyond upset.

Has she really been cutting into him that long or did you speed all the way here? It seems like she just got off of the phone with you. She checks her watch for confirmation. It’s only been about fifty minutes. “Honey, What are you doing here?” Natasha asks as you scout the room. You see some of the usual crew here, Clint, Yelena, and Bucky. But when your eyes land on an unfamiliar face you tilt your head at him. You hold your gun out for Bucky to take. He instantly grabs it and sits it on a crate next to him.

“Who might you be?” you say calmly. He stutters while trying to answer you. You scared him with your guns blazing entrance. “New recruit I presume?” You circle around him like a shark in the ocean until you stop directly in front of him. “I-Uh.” He stutters out, not able to form any words in that dumb brain of his. You grew rather bored waiting on his answer, and you’re also still upset. He was one of the causes of your postponed trip, he’s part of the blame you thought as the bottom of your Louis Vuitton boot makes contact with his face multiple times. Natasha is quick to step in pulling you away from him, she still needed him alive he was just a recruit after all unlike that bastard that was bound to the chair in the middle of the room.

You shrug her off not wanting to be touched. “He’s nobody, now what are you doing here?” You continue to ignore her while taking a seat next to Yelena.

“Hey, Lena.” You smile at her as she gives you a playful look. She knows you’re trying to push her sister’s buttons by ignoring her and she loves it. Call it payback for not letting her carve into the lowlife’s flesh.

“Y/n, my favorite person! I didn’t know you were joining us today.” She smirks at Natasha before turning her attention back to you.

“Yeah, I wasn’t originally but you know I got tossed to the side like some type of garbage.” You raise your voice when saying that word before continuing. “And I had nothing else to do, so I thought why not, ya know?” She nods her head in understanding before her sister stands in front of you both.

She leans down to softly whisper in your ear. “I need you to get up and head to the office.” You raise an eyebrow up at her. How did she think she was in the position to make demands when she’s the one that canceled on you? She scuffs at your defiance while grabbing your arm and pulling you from your chair.

“Finish this up.” she turns to bucky and clint. “Me and my sweet face, have some things to discuss.” She doesn’t wait for a reply as she leads you out of the room, when you walk down the hallway you pull away from Natasha not wanting her to touch you. The sounds of her clicking heels and the stomping of your feet can only be heard through the silent hallway. when you reach the office Natasha opens the door for you waiting on you to enter.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day baby.” you walk into the room standing firm in your spot near her desk. Natasha shuts the door and walks behind her desk, taking a seat in her Italian leather custom made office chair. she smirks at you from across the room. “Come sit on daddy’s lap.”

“I’d rather stand.” you give her a tight-lipped smile. Okay, sweet-talking you was not an option at the moment. That’s okay she can try something else, you always forgave her in the end anyway. she stands from her chair and stops directly in front of her desk leaning on it.

“Listen baby, I know you’re upset but you can’t just show up here letting off rounds.” You focus on your newly pedicured nails finding it much more interesting than whatever is coming out of her mouth at the moment. She grabs your chin harshly.

“When I speak to you, you answer me. I don't give a damn how mad you are. When you’re here in the Place, in these walls, and around my crew you do as you’re told!” You push her hand away from your chin. “I’m tired of your empty promises, I don’t give a damn about your ego and in case you forgot I don’t fucking work for you!”

I have never made empty promises. What are you talking about? And I suggest you watch how you speak to me.” You let out a humorless laugh, she really did believe that maybe it’s the cause of her inhaling all the fumes when she has to be present for a clean-up. “Let’s go down the list then, Shall we?”

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ll get someone else to do it.” you pick up the closest thing next you. A glass ashtray. And throw it in Natasha’s direction. she dodges it but she still didn’t expect it to come her way.

“Okay, you’re more upset about this than I thought.” Natasha releases a deep breath

you get angrier seeing her dodge it. At first you just wanted to let off some steam, but you feel like she deserves to be hit with something, if not your fist than this crystal figurine would have to settle for you. “I’m going to take a break.” you say as you finally launch the figurine at her wall.

“Buttercup I need you to stop throwing things at me and talk like a normal human being.” Natsha was really showing restraint right now, she wouldn’t hit you. she would never, but if you thought doing this was acceptable you were out of your mind. sometimes she entertains your tantrums as she likes to call them, but today her energy was drained, and she would much rather just talk things out.

“We can go on vacation soon.” you don’t even know what you threw that time. “Y/n, I’m not going to tell you again to stop it.” Natasha says through gritted teeth.

“You’re so full of shit!” You say, while not even realizing the decorative egg you picked up and launched in Natasha’s direction behind her desk. “Y/n I swear to God! You throw something else and it’s not going to end well for you!” She shouts while pointing her blood-stained finger at you.

You roll your eyes at her being more concerned with material objects than your feelings right now. you turn your back to Natasha wanting to walk out the office, but she grabs you before you can move even further. pressing her front to your backside and snaking her hands around the front of your waist. “I’ll make it up to you, Okay?” She husks in your ear while softly kissing and nipping at your skin. “Go home, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make sure to fill up all your holes just the way you like it and then we can re-discuss our trip. how does that sound?” She ends her proposal with a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth you were too quick for her lips to land upon yours. you shrug her off your body causing her to drop her hold on your figure. “Sounds like you’ll be getting off from your hand from now on.” you say and open the door letting it slam against the wall as you walk out the office.

“I hope you get rid of that attitude by the time I get home honey.” Natasha shouts to you down the hall. You keep walking, settling on flipping her off in the process of leaving. She was just about to run after you for the action until Bucky tells her she’s needed in the room again, something about Clint throwing up at the sight of the new recruit throwing up as well. She releases an exhausted breath and follows him back into the room.

-------

You’re too busy mumbling curses under your breath to notice the figure approaching you as you near your car. “Y/n!” you turn around in shock, seemingly hitting them in the face. when your anxiety calms down you notice it’s just Rumlow.

“Rumlow? What the fuck are you doing sneaking up on me?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you. I literally called your name five times.” he hisses in pain as he grabs his nose.

“Shit! you have a mean right hook.” you chuckle slightly feeling bad for hitting him in the face. “Sorry, my mind was somewhere else at the moment.”

“Yeah, I figured, anyway I just thought I should inform you about something that happened.”

------

Natasha was dreading coming home, not really but she hoped that you cooled down a bit since your stunt earlier today. she shuffles her keys and stops noticing that the door was unlocked. “How many times do I have to tell her to make sure all of the doors are locked.” She sighs, opening the door, pocketing her keys and walking through the living room. She for sure thought you would be in your normal sulking spot on the couch, watching some shitty reality tv show she never wanted to watch despite your many requests for her to join you. She keeps moving, deciding to check in the kitchen. empty. She checks the wine cellar. empty. She was starting to get frustrated now, her anxiety starting to kick in at the thought of you leaving her.

She would hunt you down no problem if you did but it’s the principle. you shouldn’t be leaving her no matter what. She goes upstairs to the master bedroom thinking maybe you wanted to do your sulking in the comfort of your queen-sized bed for a change. seeing another empty room caused her to quickly pull her phone out to call Yelena so they could track you down. She was a second away from pressing on the contact until she heard a faint noise coming from her home office. Furrowing her brows, she moves her feet quickly not even caring that her footsteps could be heard. When she nears the door, she pulls out her pistol ready to blow a hole in whoever is intruding her home. opening the door her face falters and she relaxes again seeing you sitting in her chair at her freshly polished marble desk.

“Baby, what are you doing in here? I was looking for you.”

“Sit down Natasha.” your voice comes out surprisingly calm to Natasha she was expecting you to blow up at her like you normally do but you’ve proven once again that today you were unpredictable.

“What’s this about?” you do a great job of containing your anger. you want her to think that you’ve calmed down when in reality you became even more furious with the information Rumlow revealed to you. you don’t answer her, you just wait for her to take the hint that you’re not in the mood for explaining. She clears her throat and sits down in the chair.

“You can’t seriously still be mad at me, can you? I said I was sorry and that I’d make it up to you.” she reaches into her pocket and throws a bulk of cash on top of the desk. “Here go get something nice and pretty to wear for me, I’m sure you’ll forget about this whole thing by the morning.” you clench your jaw at your girlfriend thinking money could solve this problem, okay maybe in the past you let her off the hook when she planted her black card in the palm of your hand or when she gave you that new purse filled with cash, you had been eyeing it whenever you went to the luxury store but never bought. This was different: you felt betrayed, foolish and insecure? you grab the Wad of cash causing Natasha to smile thinking she’s won this battle, but then you toss the money back at her seated figure making her jaw drop.

“I don’t want that.” she scuffs before bending over to pick up the cash and placing it back into her pocket before focusing on you again.

“That’s a first.” Natasha is actually amazed at you refusing her money.

“When I asked you about your whereabouts last night, what did you tell me?” Okay Natasha was royally confused what did this have to do with anything? “What does this have to do with what happened today?”

“Answer the question, Natasha.”

“I told you already.”

“And I’m asking you to tell me again.” you slightly growl at the end of your sentence hoping she didn’t catch your anger, she caught it though. “I told you we had unfinished business with Tony at his club.”

you nod your head before taking a sip of your wine. “What kind of business? signing papers? going over contracts? re-negotiations?” you say while narrowing your eyes at her you want to see if she knows that you know or if she’s playing dumb. “Uh yeah that’s normally what happens at these things, you know that. Now what’s going on? I don't have time to play games with you.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to your bullshit lies!” she’s about to reprimand you for once again speaking out of term while addressing her but you continue on with your rant no longer being able to hold it in. “I’m curious, does having a desperate whore flaunting herself in front of you on your lap fall into the category of business? or was that just for added pleasure.” you don’t miss the flash of shock on her face no matter how quick it came and went.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

She shrugs her shoulders and says it again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she says it slowly as if she was speaking to a child.

you swallow more of your wine not wanting to have this conversation sober any longer. you slide your phone on the table. she leans forward and curses under her breath seeing the photo on the screen.

“That’s what I thought.” you stand up grabbing your wine and leave the room. Natasha is too focused on who took this picture and how this picture got in your possession. she gets up from the chair and follows you into the bedroom. “Baby, listen, it’s not a big deal. We were at a strip club for God sakes what did you expect to happen?”

“If you went there for business, it should’ve been for business.”

“That!” you point towards your phone in Natasha’s hand. “That’s not business!”

“It doesn’t mean anything, why are blowing this out of proportion?” She says while sitting the phone down on the dresser.

“So why the hell did you lie about it then? Are you fucking her?” you wait for an answer and when she takes too long for your linking to answer you throws the remaining glass of wine in her face. her breath hitches from the unwanted contact, the stinging sensation she feels in her eyes and nose. it gave you enough time to move away from her. when she finally opens her eyes, she grabs you forcefully.

“I told you I went there for business, stop acting like a goddamn brat because we’re not going on extravagant trips.” you try worming out of her hold but it’s useless, so you try a different approach.

“Maybe I should go there for business next time, have a private dance or maybe I’ll ask Tony for the special room.” she chuckles at your attempt to get her enraged. “I’d like to see you and Tony try; he wouldn’t go through with that baby. Nice try.” she pats your cheek mockingly.

“Maybe, but I’m sure I could find a replacement, someone who I already know has their eye on me and you’re too blind to see it. Maybe I should give them a taste of-'' her grip on your throat cuts your sentence short. “Be mindful of what comes out of your mouth next Y/n.” you smirk at her jealousy now she knows how you feel about that whore she had on her lap. “It would’ve been nice to know we were in an open relationship.”

“We’re not in an open anything!” She grows frustrated with you more and more as the day goes by. “I’m yours.” She says while gently caressing your neck. “And you’re mine.” She lowly growls.

“Did you fuck her; you didn’t answer the question.” she looks away from you, closing her eyes for a moment before she directly answers. you already know the truth, you just wanted to see how long it would take her to confess if she even did that.

“Yes,” she finally says. you laugh causing her confusion. “Look it was only once, and when I went to the club Tony thought it would be funny to call her over and give me a dance. You know how much of an asshole he can be.”

“Only once.” you scuff and push at her body she doesn’t move. “Despite how much of an asshole he is, you still allowed her to sit there! you entertained it!” finally letting her words sink in you realize something else. “And that means you fucked her way before that picture was taken!” you swat at her body.

“I’m sorry.” she tightens her hold on your figure trying to calm you down. she didn’t intentionally plan on cheating on you, it just happened.

“Keep your damn sorry, I don’t want it.” you try again at pushing her body away from you succeeding this time as you walk towards the dresser to grab your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rumlow.” you say dryly.

“Why would you be texting him? You’re not going out until we finish talking about this.”

“I’m not texting him for an escort.” you look up at her with a smug smile.

“Then what on earth would you be texting him for?” you got her right where you want her, she walks closer to you waiting on your answer.

“I’m texting Rumlow because I know he wants to fuck me.” you say with much pride in the way her breath hitches and her face falters. you obviously don’t want to fuck Rumlow it’s just to push her buttons so she can feel your pain the same way. that was a huge mistake, you thought maybe she’d rough you up a bit, threaten you even, but never did you think she would do this to you.

The next thing you feel is her hand harshly slapping the side of your face. you know you really pissed her off for her to use her full force against you. As if you were someone off the streets like that guy in the trunk you saw earlier today.

When the ringing in your ear stops you take notice of the liquid running from the corner of your mouth. You’re bleeding. You’re not sad, not at all you’re more angry than sad. Natasha didn’t mean to let her anger take control, she said she would never hit you and she meant it but today you just pushed too many of her buttons and the mentions of someone else fucking you, someone being Rumlow, pushed her over the edge.

She wanted to reach out to you and hold you while she uttered apologies, but she saw the slight flinch when she moved towards you. it was far too late to take it back now she knew nothing would solve this at the moment. She can say sorry later and part of her didn’t even feel the need to apologize you were being beyond disrespectful to her, bringing up fucking one of her hench men?

“I’m not talking about this anymore, I’ll deal with Rumlow in the morning, and you’ll be waking up bright and early since you love tagging along with me at work”. She yanks your head back so you can properly look at her.

“Now get up and clean yourself up for dinner, I expect you downstairs at the table, don’t make me drag you down the stairs because I will.” she says while leaving the bedroom and heading back to her office to cool off she’ll use the shower in her office knowing you wouldn’t want to be in the same space as her at the moment. She wouldn’t have dinner alone knowing you’re in the same house, she didn’t care if you were still mad at her you were going to be at the table the same time she was and that was final.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #mob!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst

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