#sorry but what do you want your tag to be? your name isn't given in your intro post😭

[rosaadiazs]

NEW URLLLLL I LOVE

THANK YOUU <33

#💌 #kavya <3 #sorry but what do you want your tag to be? your name isn't given in your intro post😭 #also you're on goodreads too? let's go!! sending you a friend request rn

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid, Part 2.

panty-dropping javi art by @bonezone44

8k words | dark!javi x f!reader x dark!steve | The Raid SUMMARY: Javi and his partner get you settled in. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon (captivity & more), kidnapping, drugs, mild withdrawal, manhandling, sharing, degradation, praise, homoerotic tension, thigh fucking, somnophilia (javi), p in v (steve, but Javi's involved), orgasm denial, cumplay, size kink if you squint, mfm adjacent, hillbilly cock. Javi & Steve RECS: Lie Still by @milla-frenchy , Crossing Lines by @lunitawrites , Helping Hands and Polaroids by @clawdee , You can be the boss by @girlboybug . TY all!! A/N: Could've been 2 parts (4.4k/3.6k) so there's a divider (ty @cafekitsune) if you want 2 reads. Ty @debbiequinn for your sleep thot and @ghoulettesinspace for your styling thots. Tagged people who asked for part 2 at the end.

✨NEXT: Javi isn't home - Steve PWP.

The DEA has left the scene, aside from Javi and his tall, blonde partner. The partner managed to catch your (ex) boyfriend while Javi was “supervising” you. Javi has given his men a talking-to and told them you were never there.  With a strong grip on your arm, he's dragged you to a Ford Bronco where he's now forcing you into the back seat. 

"My shirt," you beg. 

Javi shrugs mercilessly. "Should've put it on before you ran." He glances at your bra before beginning to shut the car door. 

He and his partner talk outside the car. Javi stands with his hands tucked into the top of his vest. The taller man leans with one hand just above the back seat window and his other hand on his hip. He ducks down to look at you, but doesn't acknowledge you. He asks Javi, "You sure we need to be drivin' around with her half dressed?" 

"What'd I say?”

The blonde agent holds his hands up in mock defense. “No Carrillo, no questions." He walks around front to the driver's seat. You have a better view of him once he's seated. He's strong, like Javi. He has a thick mustache, too.

Javi gets in the passenger seat and puts on a voice like he's teaching a class and would rather be anywhere else. He addresses you by name, then says, "This is Steve Murphy." 

Steve nods in the rear view mirror, and your eyes meet. Then he turns on the engine and asks Javi, "safe house?" 

Javi tilts his head back and smooths his mustache. “Mm,” he contemplates.

Steve offers, "I'll head to the closest one."

Javi answers, "No. My place."

"Yours?" 

"Yeah, you know, the place I live? Right downstairs?" 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Alright." After a few moments of silence, Steve asks, "informant?" 

"Eh," Javi ponders. "We'll see."  He puts a cigarette in his mouth, then takes the cigarette lighter out of its socket and lights up. Javi reaches down to crank the window open a little more, then exhales, aiming the smoke outside. He asks, "We need to worry about Romeo?" as he hands the cigarette to Steve. 

“Nah,” Steve replies as he accepts the cigarette. He looks at the tip of the filter and takes one puff before handing it back to Javi. Steve exhales out the window, then reaches back and puts his hand behind Javi's seat to put the car in reverse. 

"Nah,” Steve repeats. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that dumbass. . .Told him we'd fuck her in front of him, know what he said?”

“What?” Javi asks, bemused. 

“He said go ahead."  You’re not surprised. 

"Ouch," Javi pretends to sympathize, then looks back to check on you. "Sorry, sweetheart."

—-

Once they get you to the apartment, the first thing they do is take you to the bathroom. You have to walk through a bedroom to get there. In the middle of the bedroom, there's a bed with leather restraints. It makes your stomach turn to look at. 

Steve’s eyes fixate on it and he asks Javi, "You kept this stuff?"

Javi retorts, "Where'd you think it went, the Salvation Army?” 

Javi pauses to take off his tactical vest.  “Let’s wash that place off her.” 

“C’mon,” Steve gently urges you by the arm toward the bathroom. You go in the restroom and stand, awkwardly awaiting instructions. You lean your back against the wall and the handcuffs drag.

Steve plugs the drain and turns on the water. Javi walks in, takes out the keys and uncuffs you. Steve retires to the doorway and leans against it, tucking his hands into the top of his tactical vest and watching. He seems to take up the whole frame. 

There's a toilet next to the bathtub/shower combo. Javi closes the lid and sits down, facing you, and manspreads in his tight jeans. His shirt is stained with sweat, and the glimmer of a gold chain catches your eye on his tan chest. Javi pats his thigh closest to the tub. You sit on his thigh, facing the door and Steve. Javi strokes your face, and you look down at the floor, cheeks warm, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” Javi tells you, “Vamos a ponerte limpia y lista para una vida nueva.” (We’re gonna get you clean and ready for a new life). He unclasps your bra and you let it fall off into your lap. Javi tosses it to Steve, saying, “Check the closet out there.” 

Javi reaches over to feel the water, then rests his large hand between your shoulder blades.  “Now take off your pants.” He gives you a gentle push out of his lap. 

You stand again and remove your pants. Javi stays seated.

You’re cowering with your arms in front of you, but Javi beckons you with a hooked finger. You come to stand between his knees. He nudges your inner elbows and you let your arms fall out of the way. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, not taking his eyes off your tits. His hands come to your chest without even a glance to your face. He lightly massages your breasts until both nipples are erect. He slots both his hands under your armpits and thumbs your nipples, then slides his palms down to your hips where he hooks his thumbs into your panties and keeps going, bringing them down to the floor. 

Steve comes back from the closet and sets some clothes on the bathroom counter. 

Javi looks over and tells him, “Keep Carillo off my back for a while.” 

Steve nods and leaves. “Hasta luego!” he shouts with an American accent on his way out. 

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. 

-

Javi eyes the water level of the tub and turns off the faucet. “How do you feel?” he asks you with kind eyes. 

“Fine,” you mutter without meeting his gaze. 

He extends his hand for you, and you hold it for balance. You dip a toe in and it’s lukewarm. “Get in.” He nods toward the bath and you do. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts them outside the door, then cuffs his jeans. 

“How’s the water?” He asks then reaches under the sink, and you watch his ass strain his pants as he gets a bath poof. 

“Uh, good.” Your answer echoes off the tile. 

He sits on the side of the tub and uses a light orange bar of soap to make some lather, then scrubs you. He holds you with one hand for leverage while he scrubs you with the other. He starts with your arms, and your neck. He's not gentle. 

“Ow,” you mutter at one point.  

“Ay, pobrecita” (poor little girl). “You're going to feel so clean,” he reassures you. He makes you lift your arms. Then each leg. The tub squeaks under you as you scoot forward. He scrubs your legs and between your thighs. He does your breasts and your back. His arm muscles flex with his effort. When he leans over you to reach your other side, his back muscles strain his shirt and his gold chain escapes from his collar, revealing a little cross on it. 

“You’re bottoming out,” he mutters. 

“Huh?”

“In life.” He pauses and makes sure you're looking at him as he explains this. “It’s a good thing. Know why?” 

You stare at him vacantly.

“Once you hit rock bottom, you go back up.” 

You look away, and your cheeks burn. You get it, he found you at a low point, he doesn’t have to rub it in. It doesn't feel great. 

Javi washes your stomach and downward. He gets close to your intimate parts, but he's clinical about it. He gets you up on your knees and scrubs your bottom. He flattens his hand and slides the side of it down your crack, making you gasp with an unexpected rush of warmth to your core. 

Your skin feels almost numb in some areas by the time he's done bathing you. Then he lathers a softer sponge and washes you more gently.  He drains the tub and takes his time lazily rinsing you. When he's finished, he turns on the shower and tells you to make sure he got it all. 

Once you’re squeaky clean, he dries you off with a pale, yellow, threadbare towel. He inspects the clothes on the counter. It’s a Hawaiian shirt much too large to be Javi’s. Some pants, too, but he only puts the Hawaiians shirt on you. You eye your underwear on the floor, but Javi bends down and snatches it up before you have the chance to collect it. 

“I’ll start some laundry,” he offers.

—. . .----

Javi makes pork and beans for dinner. While you’re eating, someone jogs up the stairs outside. “Steve’s right upstairs,” Javi tells you. “Ever need anything and I’m not here, just yell.” He takes a bite of his beans. “He’s a better cook, too,” he smiles with his eyes. 

During a quiet moment, you’re startled by the sound of a woman moaning from upstairs. You look up at the ceiling. 

[ohhhh, she whines. give it to me.]

“Just a porno,” Javi tells you with a smirk. 

“So,” He studies your face. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

“You make it sound like my life is over.” 

“No, there’s still time,” he shrugs. 

You refuse to answer. 

[upstairs, a man’s voice joins in. oh yeah, take it, baby.]

Javi tries, “Favorite color?” 

You don’t answer that either. 

[yeah, just like that]

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.” 

“You can't keep me here forever, if that's what you're trying to do.”

Javi’s eyebrows knit in concern. "Oh, sweetheart.” With sad eyes, he asks, “You really think someone will report you missing?" 

"I have a job," you protest. 

“Oh,” he sounds fakely impressed. “Well. . . Be a good girl, and I'll get you a better one.”

Upstairs, a deeper, clearer voice sighs, “Ohh, fuck,” making you squeeze your thighs together. That has to be Steve. It sounds like him. 

[Steve sighs and grunts over the faint sounds from the television.] 

You bite your lip and look away. 

Javi lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at you. He reaches for your face and smirks as he makes you look at him. “Like what ya hear?” Blood rushes to your face. He chuckles as he lowers his hand. 

[A long groan from Steve.]

Oh, wow. You wonder if Javi will notice the wet spot under you. You take a deep breath. When you regain your focus, he’s studying your eyes with an amused sparkle in his.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods, then pats your cheek. 

“He’s a good guy,” Javi adds, then looks upward in thought. He tilts his head back and forth as though debating himself. “Kind of.” He pushes a glass of water toward you. “Drink.”

—-

When it’s time to sleep, Javi takes you to the bedroom you walked through on the way in. He watches your face as you eye the bed with its restraints. 

“You’ve been pretty good so far,” Javi muses. “Maybe we don’t need this yet.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I promise I’ll behave.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m not sure if you’ll like the other option much better, though.” 

He brings you to his room and heads toward the closet, which rolls open with a four-panel door. you wouldn’t really mind sleeping in Javi’s bed with him, but that’s not what he has in mind. He pulls out an old futon mattress with a striped fitted blanket and throws it on the floor.  “You can choose where to sleep, how’s that?”

“Here,” you answer without hesitation and he chuckles. 

“Muy bien, pobrecita. But I *am* going to have to secure you.”  He takes his handcuffs out and cuffs one to a radiator under the window. Then, with his foot, he pushes the futon mattress over to it.  

“Really?” You ask. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I believe you. But you need protection from yourself right now.” 

His bed has plenty of room for both of you. He’s just being an ass. 

-

Javi lets you watch television, sitting side by side with him on his sofa. He periodically looks at you skeptically, as though wondering if you’ll make a run for the door, but you don’t. It sure has been a long day. You yawn. 

“Ready for bed?” Javi asks. 

You nod. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Steve. He’s come by to drop off a couple of bags. One is from the grocery store. Javi steps into the breezeway to talk for a couple of minutes. When he comes back in, he brings the grocery bag to the table and puts the others aside. In the grocery bag, there are brand new toiletries for you, including a toothbrush. 

Javi takes you to the bathroom and watches you while you brush your teeth, then he brings one of the other shopping bags into the bedroom. There’s a nightgown. The material is thin and it’s on the shorter side. Not exactly modest. Javi puts it on you, and at least it’s more comfortable than whomever’s shirt you were wearing. 

He gives you a thin pillow and pats the mattress for you to lie down. He cuffs you to the radiator. Then he goes to another room and comes back with a blanket. He tucks you in. 

“If you need to go to the bathroom or anything, just wake me up, okay?” He moves your wrist to clank the handcuffs on the radiator in demonstration. “I hope tonight won’t be bad, but you might start to feel sick, or get chills. That’s normal okay?” 

You nod.  

He pats your head affectionately and bids you goodnight. “Sweet dreams, mi pobrecita.” He goes to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. When he comes back in the room, you try not to watch him, but you hear him rustling around near the bed. You tilt your head up enough to steal a quick glance, and he’s taking off his shirt. He doesn’t get in his bed right away, but eventually you hear the mattress creak. 

—--

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little queasy, but you’re unsure if it’s the circumstances, the beans, or the detox. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold, but this sleeping arrangement is not doing you any favors. You don’t want to wake Javi up, but the night feels like it might last forever otherwise. You rattle the cuffs against the metal. 

“Ay, pobrecita,” he whispers. “Okay, I’m coming.” He gets out of bed. 

He approaches you, barefoot. As soon as he kneels down, he mutters, “Ay, cabrón” (oh, bastard) under his breath and returns to his nightstand for the key. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you when he comes back. He uncuffs you. As you sit up, he helps you with a warm hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Javi responds as if he didn’t handcuff you to a radiator. 

As he helps you up from the floor, something brushes your thigh and makes you tingle. Your body knows what it is before you do. When you register what grazed your leg through his sleep shorts, your face heats up and the tingle turns into a throb. Javi walks you to his bathroom with one arm around you in case you have trouble. He takes you all the way to the toilet. “You good?” he asks. 

“Yeah, do you mind if I?”

“Sure.” He backs up into the doorframe, but he doesn’t close it. You glance over, and he’s not hiding the massive tent in his shorts. He’s not shy about it at all. He’s also not trying to do anything about it. “Alright, I’ll be right here.” He closes the door halfway and stands outside. You sit there for a few minutes on the cool tile in front of the toilet. The urge to be sick has passed. He peeks his head in to check on you. “How about some water?”

“Okay,” you nod. He comes in and helps you up, hard-on still blazing. He takes an empty, upside-down glass from his clean bathroom counter, fills it up, and hands it to you. You’re aching at the silhouette of his length just casually standing at attention. It takes all your energy not to look right at his shorts. 

“Good girl,” he gently palms the back of your head. 

You try to look anywhere but down. You focus on his bare chest. His chain drapes over his collar bone and sits above his strong, golden pecs. There’s a light smattering of dark, soft hair. And then, lower, a happy trail.  You yank your eyes away. You look at the counter: A brush, a comb. Maybe he does his mustache with that. You look at his hair. It’s messy, out of place. Bedhead looks good on him. He casually rakes his hand through it when he sees you looking. Your gaze drifts back to his body. It’s really a beautiful torso you’re looking at. Broad shoulders, strong arms, narrow waist. A hint of abs under the light padding of his flesh. 

“You okay?” he asks with his puppy dog eyes, which gives you an idea.

“Yeah.” You look up at him, widen your eyes, and let your face fall. 

He nods. “Back to bed?”

You hold your wrist as if it hurts from the cuff and nod sadly. You check his shorts in the corner of your eye–yeah, it’s still there, as commanding as ever. The tent bobs as he walks. He walks you back into the bedroom and pauses at your futon mattress on the floor. He reaches for your hand and holds it as his other thumb brushes the indentation on your wrist. 

“You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” He nods toward the other room with the restraints. 

“I’d love a bed, but no. That one’ll give me nightmares, I’m sure.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “Are you asking to sleep in *my* bed?” His thumb continues to brush the indentation from the cuffs. His light touch gives you butterflies. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and your hand joins his, on your wrist. His thumb freezes. Your fingers rest lightly on top of his. “I guess I’m okay down there.” You glance at the mattress on the floor.  

His bare chest rises with a deep breath. “You’re being such a good girl,” he marvels with your hand on his. “Come on. It’s okay.” He guides you to his bed and pauses when you’re right in front of it. He faces you and puts his hands on your shoulders. He dips his head and his tone darkens. “But if you leave this bed, things are going to change here,” he warns. “And you’re not going to like it.” He shakes his head. The gentleness of his voice and the look on his face sends a chill down your spine. 

-

Javi gets into his bed, under the covers. He lays on his side and makes room for you, albeit not much. “I still have to restrain you,” he informs you as you lie down. “Do you want the cuffs or my arm?”

“Your arm.”

“Good girl.” He extends one arm and raises the other, making room for you.

You scoot back against him, mentally bracing yourself for what awaits under the covers. You're already twitching before you feel it. He inhales sharply as the hardness in his shorts hits you. With a hand on your lower abdomen, he pulls you into him, and his stiff length presses against you.  

“I’m sure that’s not going to bother you, is it?” he asks and your breath hitches. You shake your head just barely on the off chance he wanted a real answer. But it is, it's going to bother you as long as he won't put it in you. You’re human, you can’t help it. He’s a bad person but you can only imagine what a good lay. He curls his strong, lean body around you like a big spoon, and he nestles the warm rod in his shorts against your crack.

One bicep is under your neck. His other arm settles over your waist. You don’t need to test his strength to know his arm is solid. Heavy. There’s no escaping as long as he holds this position. 

He inhales your hair, and the hand in front of you cups your breast through your thin nightgown. He slowly palms your breast, and lightly grinds against you. You can’t help but push back on him. The shape of his arousal against you makes you salivate. 

He whispers just above your ear.  “Sure do love cock, don’t you?”

As he thrusts against you at a slow, steady rhythm, his hand slides off your breast, down your gown, sliding over your stomach and down to the fleshy triangle where your thighs meet. His hand stays flat. He doesn’t dig between your legs. He gently presses your mound, bringing you back against him harder as his cock throbs even harder against you. 

“That can be a good thing for recovery,” he offers. “You need something to replace that high.”

He thrusts against you slower, lighter. It’s excruiating. “Mmm.” He begins to gather the nightgown’s fabric into a fist, raising the hem of the gown and exposing more of you to the air between the sheets. No underwear. 

His hand rests on the bare skin of your lower abdomen, then slides down just low enough that his middle finger can tease your most sensitive place. He slides further down until his middle finger reaches the pool between your legs and he growls almost silently. He begins to move his fingers between your legs. Slowly, expertly, leaving his thumb and pinky braced on your front. The movement is just enough to drive you crazy. His index and middle fingers slide through your dripping folds and apply pressure to your swollen bud, moving to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts against your crack. 

“Mm,” your moan is barely audible.

“Ohh, I know,” Javi coos reassuringly. “I know.” He ruts against you slowly. He sighs as he moves against you. The heft of his arousal pushing against both asscheeks makes you weak. If only he’d just stuff your pussy. You can hardly stand it. He must feel you gush on his fingers. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers into your hair. His throbbing erection grinds against you. His hand leaves your cunt and you feel cold, exposed. He pulls down the waistband of his shorts, then his hand–wet fingers and all–slightly lifts your thigh, making your heart skip a beat. 

He wedges his naked cock between your thighs, right against your cunt, and you gasp. His swollen tip glides through your wetness and you moan, “Ohh.” He slowly slides forward and back through the warm, wet pocket made by your thighs and cunt. You push back against him. “Mm,” he grunts softly as his tip reaches your clit. 

His hand returns to your breast. He massages your breast as his cock keeps sliding between your thighs and nudging your sensitive bud just right. “Javi,” you whisper. “Please.” His cock hesitates at your entrance, and you tilt your hips. 

“Not today, sweetheart.” 

With a small thrust, he bypasses your wet little hole again. 

Then he stops moving. You push your ass back into him, and he does nothing but tighten his arm over you. He cradles your breast gently. You’re throbbing, aching to have him inside you. It feels like an eternity you’re lying like this with his arousal throbbing against your naked heat. You begin to feel a chill again and reach for the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. He helps you, then murmurs. “Good night”  into your hair. 

The comfort of his arms and rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep sooner than you expect. 

—-...------

Just after daybreak, you awake to the sound of Javi breathing heavily  as his cock slides against your wet cunt again. Your chest is hot and fluttering. He’s aggressively groping one breast, then shifts to the other with a grunt and harsh thrust. Your body shifts as you wake up. He pants, “Morning sunshine,” and you push your ass back against him. 

“Was I good?” you ask. 

“Ohh,” he moans, “You were good.” 

His hand comes between your legs and you gasp at the pressure of his thick fingers on your clit. He doesn’t move them, just rests his hand there, then asks “Would you like to cum?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whine as his cock glides against you. 

He slows way down. “Because I’m only giving you one today. You sure you want it already?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“It’s not even seven a.m.”

“Please, Javi.” 

He begins to move his thick fingers, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re seeing stars. 

“Ohh,” you moan as the waves of pleasure begin to overtake you. Your body spasms, and your walls clench around nothing. 

“Mmmm, mi putita. . .por supuesto ahorita” (My little slut. Of course right now), Javi purrs into your hair. “That’s the–ohhh–thing with addicts,” he pants as he chases his own orgasm. “You want everything right–mmm—now–ohhhh.” As Javi begins to cum, he moves his hand from your clit to his cock. His cock pulses against you, and it’s too easy to imagine it inside you. He cups his hand and seals it over his tip and your front. He slowly thrusts as he cums. He slides against you, coating your folds and clit with his warm spend as your own climax fades. 

When Javi is empty, he withdraws his cock, but keeps his hand in place. He rubs his spend over your oversensitive parts, making you flinch and moan. 

“Ohh, I know it sweetheart.”

A thick digit breaches your entrance, pushing some cum into you, and he sighs.

“One day, pobrecita. One day.” He adds another finger. “Voy a llenar esta concha con leche” (I’m gonna fill this pastry/cunt with milk/cum).

Your first morning waking up at Javi’s place, he lets you sit at the kitchen counter and watch him make huevos rancheros and cactus. 

Over breakfast, he asks, “What do you like to do?”

You shrug.

“Because getting high replaced all your hobbies,” he concludes. 

“That's not true.”

“It's not? Then what do you do? Draw? Write? Do you read?”

You scoff. “Yes, I read,” you say with an eye roll and can’t help but add, “Did kidnapping replace all your hobbies?” 

There's an instant surge of regret in your chest, but Javi chuckles and lets it slide. “What kind of books? I could pick one up for you.”

You swallow, rest your fork, and ask, “really?” 

“Sure,” He nods. 

“Okay. Maybe a mystery,” you offer, only because you know you'll need the distraction.

“Good,” he nods. “A mystery.”

Later that day, Javi has to go into the office. He leaves a glass of water for you, a bucket just in case, and he cuffs you to the radiator. He reassures you Steve will come check on you as soon as he gets home. You try your best to get comfortable on the futon mattress. 

As soon as Javi leaves, things go somewhat downhill. You have a headache, then your stomach begins to bother you, and the handcuffs are driving you crazy. You’re anxious. You're horny. You’re cold. Why are you horny? After about an hour, you rattle the cuffs on the radiator. When nothing happens, you yell for Steve, then hear movement upstairs. 

When Steve comes into Javi’s apartment, you hear him open the door, but it doesn’t sound like it shuts all the way. His footsteps are loud as they approach through the living room. Steve unlocks Javi’s bedroom and pauses in the doorframe. “There she is.” He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe and leans forward, stretching his back as he takes in the scene. “Damn,” he mutters. “You alright?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” He digs into Javi’s nightstand for the key. “Hold on.” He comes over and crouches down on the floor. He smells like cigarettes, and he must smoke the same brand as Javi. 

You're mildly surprised by the way your body reacts to Steve’s proximity. You squeeze your legs together, self conscious that you’re gushing. The day before, you were so focused on Javi that you didn’t think much of Steve at the time. But after overhearing him jack off. . .There’s something about hearing a man make those primal noises. It changes his whole face, his whole presence in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Steve offers and extends his massive hands, looming over you. You sit up on your knees, careful not to expose yourself with no panties. He slots his hands under your arms and helps you to your feet. He checks you out and raises an eyebrow. You wonder if he can see through your nightgown. “He’s still got ya in your PJs, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” 

“Looks good on ya, anyway.” 

Steve ushers you to the restroom and waits outside. You’re starting to feel a little better already, just having someone around again. His presence distracts your body from its woes.

-

When you’re out of the restroom, Steve asks if you need anything else. You ask for a glass of juice. He brings you to the kitchen to get some. The sound of children playing outside echoes from the breezeway and you notice the door isn’t shut flush. Before you can really think about it, you begin to walk toward the door, heart pounding. You’re barefoot, and realistically, you’re not going to try to flee, but you want to know you could. You’re not running, you’re walking slowly, curiously as though pulled by a weak magnet toward a chance at freedom. 

Steve crosses the room in two strides and steps right into your path. His massive arm wraps around you, halting you dead in your tracks. “Wouldn't do that.” His face is stone. Instinctively, you begin to struggle, not to escape, but to get out of his strong grip. His body overwhelms yours.  

His arm tightens, and you whine, “Ow.” 

He shakes you once, then loosens his grip. He brings his mouth to your hair and lowers his voice.  “Don't make me hurt ya, sugar.” He wraps his arm around your middle and begins to drag you toward the bedroom with the creepy bed. He wrangles you over to the bed with the straps. You don’t resist much, but he’s rough with you anyway. 

“Okay, okay,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.” 

He throws you down on the bed and pins you with his weight, then begins to strap you in, limb by limb. Your heart is racing. But you don’t feel sick at all anymore. All you feel is the rush. 

“Ya know, I should tell Agent Peña ‘bout this,” Steve mutters as he buckles your wrist. 

“No, don’t. Tell him I was good. Please. I wasn’t trying to do anything.” 

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see.” The bed is probably full sized. Wider than a twin. The leg restraints are spaced out enough that you feel like you’re spread eagle. 

Once you’re all strapped down, Steve slowly paces next to the bed looking at you like a piece of meat. 

He asks, “True you were beggin’ for cock?”

“No,” you answer as a gut reaction. 

“Ya weren't? Huh. Peña’s a liar?” 

“He–he got me all worked up on purpose.”

Steve freezes near the foot of the bed and cracks a smile. “So it is true. . .Hmm.” He tilts his head contemplatively.  “How'd he do that? Get ya all worked up.” He dangles his fingers to graze your bare ankle. Then he walks back up toward your head, dragging his fingertips over your shin. His fingers lightly circles your kneec twice, then continue up your thigh. He pauses and strokes an abstract pattern on your inner thigh. 

You don’t answer him. You don’t have to. He’s already having an effect on you. 

“Well, don't worry. I'm not gonna hold out on ya. Want somethin’ from me, sugar? Just ask.” 

“Thanks.”

“It's ok, baby.” He lowers his voice. “Really don't mind one bit.” He looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. His fingers get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. When his fingers graze your outer lip, he peeks under the gown. “He left the door open for me. That was nice,” Steve smiles. “Said ya got a gorgeous pussy, too.”  Your legs tense, and his hand returns to your thigh. “Nothin’ to be afraid of, darlin’.” 

The leather that’s holding you down is what scares you. It’s the most unsettling feeling. 

Steve adjusts himself, and when you follow his hand, you can't pull your eyes away from the bulge in his pants. Wow. He doesn't wear his pants nearly as tight on his ass as Javi, so you hadn't even thought about Steve’s dick. Now it's all you can think about. You're studying the shape his pants are struggling to contain. Never would’ve thought. And, balls. You’re pretty sure he’s got big balls. You wet your lips and realize you're staring. 

“Attagirl,” he mutters. “See, that's where my partner and I have different philosophies,” Steve explains. “I could care less if you're drunk, high, outta your mind.”  The hand on your thigh slides all the way up to where your thigh meets your torso. “Good pussy’s good pussy.” He traces the crease, right next to your outer lips, and his light touch makes you tingle. “I think a pretty girl deserves all the dick she wants.” He sighs, then raises his eyebrows. “And then some,” he says with a short nod. 

“His heart’s in the right place,” Steve says unconvincingly. “Hurts though, don’t it?” He pouts at you as he keeps tracing the crease of your inner thigh. “Never met a whore he didn’t fuck. . .n’ can’t be bothered to give ya just an inch.

He follows your eyes back to his crotch and chuckles darkly. “Boy, you got your eye on the prize, don't ya?” He looks down at himself. 

“Mmm,” he grunts when he meets your eyes again. The humor is gone from his face.

He looks at the leather strap around your arm. “I’ll take mercy on ya,” he mutters and takes his hand out from between your legs. He pauses with his hands on the strap.  “Gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

He unbuckles the strap. The metal of the buckle flicks against your inner arm. You don’t move your arm, making good on your promise to be good. Then the mattress creaks and groans as he gets up on the bed with you. He straddles one of your knees and leans forward, bracing his right hand on the mattress near your torso. His left hand returns between your legs. This time, he goes straight for your cunt. He smiles when he feels how wet you are. He lightly rubs you, teasing your dripping folds up and down. He falls into a trance. He gathers your slick and brings it to your clit. He scoots up on the bed so his head is above yours and his crotch is at your hip. He looks into your eyes as he circles your most sensitive spot. A knot is already forming in your stomach, making your pelvis lift into his hand. He wets his bottom lip, then bites it as he adds more pressure. Then speed. Your mouth falls open and a moan slips out. 

His lips form a small ‘o’. “Ooh,” he marvels. “Oh, you’re a real sweet thing, I can tell.” His fingertips slide down, and one of them teases your entrance, making an audible, rhythmic smacking sound.  Then he slowly pushes the finger inside. His eyes roll up toward the ceiling, and his head tilts up too. You watch his neck veins. There’s some faded tattoo ink barely visible on his chest, poking up from his collar when the angle is right. He presses his hard bulge against your hip and you gasp with a bolt of arousal.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you moan. “Yeah, ya want that, don’t ya?” He gives you another slow thrust against the hip.  “You want it right here.” He pushes another finger into you. “Ohh, yeah.” His upper palm massages your clit as his fingers pump into you.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry.” You twitch at the thought. “But you’re gonna cum on these fingers first. Hear me?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Your back arches. You reach for his pants. 

“There ya go,” he nods as if that’s why he unbuckled you in the first place. “Ohh, you’re gonna go wild.” 

You grab his bulge–it’s more than a handful–and massage him through his pants. 

“Mmm. Yeah,” he whispers. Your nipples harden with his practiced touch, and you sigh, unable to take any more tension. His fingers curl inside you and he whispers, “C’mon, now.” The deep whisper is enough. 

“Ohh,” you moan. He nods in encouragement and his upper palm bears down on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself unravel. Your spasming walls squeeze and soak his fingers. 

“Yeahh, attagirl.”  

As your climax fades, he withdraws his fingers and feverishly unbuckles his belt. You throb in anticipation. It won't take much to tease another one out of you. Your core twitches as he shoves down his briefs and his thick cock springs free, taking your breath away. He gets between your legs and holds his stiff manhood loosely as he lines himself up. He shakes it heavily up and down, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. Oh, God it feels so–you’re already about to–

–Steve hesitates.  

In the driveway, a car pulls up and stops. 

Steve stops what he’s doing. “Alright, let's see what the boss wants,” he says with an air of inconvenience as he tucks his erection into his briefs.

“Thought you were partners,” you say and hope you don't sound too disappointed. 

“On paper, sure. “ He buttons and zips up his pants. “On paper I'm a good cop, too,” he winks. 

Steve pats your cheek and says, “hang in there.” He gets off the bed, then leans in close and whispers, “give it to ya next chance I get. . .skip the preamble, how's that?” 

You bite your lip. Just as the front door begins to unlock, Steve sits down in a chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped in his lap. 

—--

Javi opens the door. 

“All good at the office?” Steve asks. 

“All good,” Javi reports, and he surveys you with his eyes as he approaches. “What’s going on here?” 

“Oh, she just wanted a change of scenery,” Steve reports, mercifully. Javi looks at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugs it off. 

“How are you feeling?” Javi asks you with a hand on his hip and a serious look. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you and Steve, who’s on the same side. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

Javi clenches his jaw and furrows his brow. His hand frames your jaw and he looks at your eyes. Then he lets go of you.

"Good," Javi nods. Then squints and asks, "He touch you?"

You look at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows curiously. He doesn't deny touching you, but his face also doesn't give you any clues about the right answer. He’s sitting in amused suspense. Javi raises his eyebrows at you like a challenge, waiting on you to speak. You look at Steve again, and Steve winks. Unsure what it means, you begin to slowly shake your head no.

Javi clenches his jaw and his eyes narrow. His head whips to Steve and he asks, "Why not?" 

Steve sighs and uncrosses his arms. He extends his hand to Javi. Javi brings Steve's hand to his nose, takes a whiff of his fingers, and cracks a smile.  "Don't lie to me, putita." Javi closes his eyes, draws in your scent again, then opens his eyes and mouth as he brings Steve's middle and index fingers to his lips. Javi locks eyes with you as he tastes you on Steve's fingers. Your heart races. You failed whatever test this was. 

Javi drops Steve's hand and brings his own hand to cup your jaw. "Pobrecita. . ." His hand dwarfs your face. "What’s the matter? Te confunde?” (It confuses you)

You nod, and your voice is small.  "You said it's yours." 

"What's mine?"

You look down at yourself and swallow. "My body?"

Javi nods. "Say it." 

Your eyes settle on what you can see of his gold chain under his shirt.  "This pussy is yours." 

"That's right," Javi nods condescendingly. "Good girl."  He brings his hand from your cheek to your thigh and squeezes it. He nods toward Steve and says, "con mi permiso" (with my permission).  "Still confused?" 

You shake your head. 

“That's all he did? Touch you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

Javi addresses Steve. "Alright, c’mon.”  He beckons him, and Steve stands up with his hands still clasped in front of himself. 

“Show her your cock.”

Steve undoes his pants again. He slides them down over the bulge of his still-hard cock, then pauses. 

“Pants off,” Javi adds matter-of-factly. Steve sits back down to unlace his shoes, then takes them off. He pulls off his pants, and he's left wearing black socks and white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband. Thigh muscles are massive. 

“Good news for you, putita.” Javi nods toward Steve. “This one’ll fuck anything.” Your cheeks heat up and Steve shakes his head in amusement at Javi. 

“Says the guy who has his own room at a brothel.” 

Javi looks at your body hungrily and crosses his arms. “Give it to her,” he mutters without looking at Steve. 

When Steve stands up, Javi takes his place, manspreading with his hands tucked under his arms, straining his short-sleeve button-up.

-

Steve mounts the bed again, putting himself between your legs. He pulls his briefs down under his balls, and you let out a little gasp. His cock is even more engorged than it was before. It’s so thick, and the veins are beautiful. He looks even bigger than Javi, but it might be an effect of his lighter, finer pubic hair. He braces a hand on the mattress again, hovering over you.

You glance at Javi and he's watching intently as Steve lines up his cock between your legs. The touch of his tip at your dripping hole makes you shiver in arousal and your nipples pucker. Steve smiles to himself under his mustache. He notches his tip half inside your entrance, then looks at Javi. 

Javi makes a subtle beckoning motion with one hand, and Steve begins to push into you. You gasp as his girth begins to spread you open. He pushes further, and you whimper. 

Javi scoots closer and lays a big, warm hand on your tied-down arm. You look at him and he reassures you, “You can take it, I promise.” 

Then, Steve plunges to the hilt, dividing your insides with a loud grunt. You moan and lock eyes with him as he looks up at you darkly. Your body rushes to accommodate the heft of him inside you.

“Good girl,” Javi mutters to himself with his eyes fixed where your bodies are joined. 

Steve withdraws most of his length, then Javi raises his palm in a stop motion and Steve freezes, biting his lips together. Javi stands up, and walks toward Steve for a better point of view. 

“Go,” Javi mutters, crossing his arms again. There's a bulge growing in Javi’s restrictive jeans, and he's not doing anything about it. 

Steve pushes into you again, making you moan. He pauses for only an instant before backing out again, and right away he’s pushing back in. “Fuck,” he mutters as his thick cock disappears into your hole once more. 

“How is it?” Javi asks him. “Juicy, right?”

“Nngh–yeah,” Steve answers as he brings his hips back, then slams into you harder and his balls slap against you. “Goddamn,” Steve mutters. “Tighter than ya’d think.”

“Hm,” Javi hums with a straight face, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “He's gonna break you in for me.” He looks at Steve's cock sliding out of you then at Steve's face, twisted with arousal. “Right, partner?”

“Goddamn right,” Steve breathes. He ramps up to a steady rhythm, fucking you gradually harder until the force is pushing you up on the bed. 

“Hold on,” Javi mutters and the vein on Steve's forehead swells with effort as he stops with only his tip inside. Steve wets his lips and rubs them together. Javi tightens the restraints to hold you steady. While Javi is is busy with that,  Steve rocks ever so slightly into you, moving less than an inch forward and back. It’s so subtle it could be an accident, but it must provide relief because he moans quietly. At the sound of his noise and the look of his face, you whimper and your cunt spasms once. 

“Nngh,” Steve reacts. 

“Okay,” Javi announces, then stands so he can roughly see things from Steve’s point of view again. Steve resumes with a slow, careful pace. 

Javi wets his lips as he watches your cunt swallow Steve's cock. Steve's cock pulls at your pussy each time it withdraws, and the sight seems to darken Javi’s eyes with lust. You twitch again.  

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then looks over his shoulder “Can I?”

“Don't let her come on your cock,” Javi answers.” 

Hearing Javi talk about Steve’s cock is almost enough to do it. 

Steve sighs and looks at the ceiling, in an almost eye-roll. His arms strain his shirt. His sweat wafts toward you and makes your knees weak. He draws in a deep breath as he slowly pushes in again. 

You imagine if the situation was different, if you were just some slut they picked up at a bar, how much fun you could have with the two of them. 

You twitch around him, and he pulls out in a hurry. “Sorry darlin’,” he mumbles. He sits back on his knees and pumps himself. “Where do you want it,” he asks, staring at your body.

“Uh,” you stammer, then realize he's not asking you. 

Javi pulls the gown down under your tits. Steve strokes himself faster until his breath gets uneven. He pauses, scoots up your body to straddle your middle, then resumes.  You admire his balls as his fist slides up and down his shaft. His hand is so large, yet it doesn’t dwarf his cock. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at your tits. He pumps himself faster and his mouth drifts open until he points his cock at your chest and moans, “Ohhh—ohhhh, fuck,” painting your tits with his cum. Your nipples sharpen as the warm spend spreads. As the last of his cum dribbles out, Steve sighs. 

“Good,” Javi mutters, then comes up toward the head of the bed again. Steve tucks his softening cock away and gets off the bed. He reaches down to the floor to get a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jeans. Then he pulls the chair toward the foot of the bed, and manspreads in his briefs to watch Javi. 

Javi dips two fingers into Steve’s cum on your chest. He spreads it around slowly. He circles each of your nipples until they’re painfully erect. 

Javi swipes up a bit of cum from between your breasts and brings his fingers to your lips. You take his thick digits into your mouth and taste the salt of Steve’s seed. Then you gently suck. Javi gets you to clean both fingers, one at a time, then he licks them himself. 

Javi brushes your temple with his thumb. “Let’s hope this is rock bottom.”

—---

Thank you so much for reading. To help with the next ones, I would love to know what you liked most about it, and your thots are welcome, too 🖤

tagging people who asked for part 2 🖤

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ohheypedrito @weddingfairy @neobanguniberse @ladyscarlettdixon @zliteraturehoe @planet-marz1

#javier pena x reader #steve murphy x reader #javier pena smut #steve murphy smut #dark!javier pena #dark!steve murphy #javier pena x reader x steve murphy #narcos fanfiction #dark!javi p #cw dubcon #cw drugs #cw somnophilia #cw addiction #toxicanonymity ☠️ #steve murphy #big dick steve murphy #the raid ☠️ #raider!javier peña #javi x reader x steve #👱‍♂️ #boyd bungalow ☠️ #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut

[navstuffs]

Project L.S.K.

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x ScientistGN!Reader

Summary: After Spain, the U.S. government decides Leon Kennedy is too precious to be wasted, so they start a project with you as the leader. (aka the fanfic where you have to collect semen from Leon)

Warning tags: SMUT SO MINORS DNI, slight DUBCON, handjob, subby!leon, cum collecting, dirty talking, needy!leon, bit of exhibitionist!leon

Author's Notes: heey. this isn't what i normally write since i am not a fan of dubcon/noncon, but my husband had the idea and i opened an exception. enjoy your reading!

leon's masterlist

This is probably wrong. Ethically wrong and immoral in so many ways. Having your hands down in the pants of your object of study was clearly not how you decided to make your Saturday about….or was it? The task given by your superiors was clear as day: “Collect Leon fluids. We want blood and all the fluids you can get.”

They really meant it all fluids.

So, as the head scientist of Project L.S.K, you empty the laboratory the day Leon is supposed to come. Just you and him. Not that you have a crush or anything (that would be extremely inappropriate), but meeting the man in person for the first time and having to collect his semen, you wanted him as comfortable as he could be, and with a laboratory full of other scientists examining him wouldn’t help.

Leon was polite enough, shaking your hand. Deep down, Agent Kennedy knows you are just doing your job and just want to get it done and over with. How can you blame him? You lead him to a small room with an exam table, a comfortable armchair, and a regular table with a chair on the other side. There are no windows, for Leon’s relief. Leon turns around as you hand him the specimen cup with his name and date printed. 

Leon waits for you to leave the room, but you close the door after you and sit in the chair behind the table. Leon blinks, and you give him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. They require me to stay in case you try to fake the test. It will be like I am not even here, I promise.”

Fantastic, Leon thinks. He drops into the armchair, cursing himself for not suspecting that before. Again, you were just doing your job. All he has to do now is cum in a damn tiny cup. It shouldn't be that hard: Leon can't remember the last time he pleasured himself. So easy peasy.

Ten minutes pass. Leon tries really hard: Guiding his hand inside his pants without pulling his cock entirely out, Leon strokes himself, closing his eyes. He doesn't even know what to imagine, conscious of your presence in the room. He just wants to get done with it.

Obviously, he can’t.

He sighs, frustrated, louder than he should, attracting your attention. If it was purposeful or not, it didn't matter. You pull your eyes up from whatever you are reading, crossing your sight with the vulnerable, pink-faced Agent Kennedy. A few strains of his hair have fallen over his face. You open your mouth and close it before clearing your throat. Now, it is not time to have impure thoughts.

"We have a fleshlight if you need it." Your interjection seems to get him by surprise, hitting him like lightning. Leon pulls his hands out of his pants as if they were electrified, his eyes wide. He looks at you, mouth agape and hair over his face. You look away, embarrassed. Great way to make Leon comfortable.

Before you can even apologize, Leon’s voice confesses low and apologetic.

“I have never done it with someone watching me before…”

Well, crap. The weight of that confession raises the temperature in the room, and suddenly, you feel warm. Mainly by the way Leon is staring at you: vulnerable, pleading for some sort of comfort. Anything you could give him. Your hand closes in a fist as the rational part of your body screams for you to not do it. You could lose your job. But those blue eyes are begging for the release only you could give.

The question comes from your mouth because you are trying to help him. After all, it’s for science, and your superiors didn’t want Leon cheating on the exam, right? What better way to ensure than to do it yourself?

“Do you need help?”

Leon takes a long time to answer, so long you think he will deny you. But he gives you a slight nod, looking down, embarrassed. You pick up your chair, placing it at his side. His body is tense, and Leon doesn’t look up when you sit near him, hands waiting on your lap.

“This wouldn’t put you in any trouble, right?” Leon wonders. You shake your head, finding it adorable that he worries for you. You barely know each other.

“No. I will be fine.” Honestly, you didn't even care if this would put you in trouble at this point.

Leon relaxes under you, and you have the vision of the Rookie who survived the Raccoon City outbreak. He seems unsure of himself, innocent almost, with barely any experience. You lunge forward, your hands on his thighs, not moving. 

“I am fine, really. You can go. I haven’t done this in a long time. Hopefully, it means I will finish fast."

You nod, trying to ignore the pressure that gives you. You pull his pants down slowly. Leon raises his hips slightly so the pants drop further, his eyes going down to his lap where you can see the very tip of his cock on his black underwear. You try not to laugh or say it is cute, like a peeking bird. You don’t immediately touch it, focusing on massaging the upper part of his tights in circles to get Leon to relax.

"Is this fine?" You want him to be completely comfortable.

"Yes." Leon trembles. Either the cold or your touch. Or both. You wonder when was the last time he had someone to care for him like that.

“Close your eyes now. I want you to relax.”

He follows your command, relaxing against the armchair. Slowly, his shoulders fall, and his forehead furrow is gone. For some reason (that you thank), Leon seems to trust you enough for you to do this. Your hand goes to your jacket pocket, finding a lube, especially for male masturbation. You thought Leon might need some of that and would have offered for him to use on himself, but oh well. You coat your hand with the gel and gently rub it on Leon’s cock tip. His surprise whimper and how he immediately opens his legs for you tell you are doing something right.

You want to ask him if he liked that but bite your mouth. You gently pull his cock out of his underwear and slowly squeeze his length up and down with your lubed hand, wanting Leon to feel good. This is clearly not about the test anymore for you. Leon seems to bite his lips, trying to contain another moan.

“No need to be ashamed. It is just you and me here, Leon. Let it out all.” Leon’s cock twitches in your hands in response, and you wonder how much Agent Kennedy enjoys dirty talk. Maybe you should try more? For science.

“You seem to really enjoy this. I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist. Imagine if we got caught right here, right now, in how much trouble we would be.” You attempt again, watching Leon’s cock. It certainly seems to answer your stimulus, pre-cum leaking from his cock.

Your other hand, coated in lube, starts squeezing with his balls. Leon’s hands grab the side of the armchair, his knuckles turning white. You can feel wetness in the middle of your legs, and you ignore it focusing on working his cock harder and faster.

“You are doing so well, Leon.” 

“Please…” Leon’s low whimper makes you fall out of your chair. 

Your body is sweating now, but in no way like Leon’s, with his hair sticking in his forehead. He still doesn’t look at you (better that way), his chest raising up and down with deep breaths. He isn’t biting his lip anymore, letting out a “more” or “fuck” between quick breaths. His hips move against your hand, trying to find more friction.

“Please, what?"

“Please, let me cum.”

You look for the specimen cup, your hand leaving his balls, and focus on jerking his cock. You rub the head of his cock in circles, spreading more of his pre-cum around, and Leon's back flinches from the armchair. He is close, and you can feel it. You stop for a moment to open the specimen cup before leaning forward, close enough so you are near Leon’s ear.

“You did so good, Leon. All you have to do is cum for me now, give me all you can.” 

Leon lets out a weak “I am cumming,” and you focus on directing his cock toward the cup. He fills over half of the cup before dropping into the chair, exhausted. You close the lid, ignoring your desire to kiss his parted lips, before getting up from the chair to get some towels and water. 

Leon already has his dick tucked inside his underwear when you get back. He accepts your towel, murmuring thanks, his eyes again not meeting yours. You give him a water bottle, and Leon gets up from the chair, pulling his pants up.

It is over, you think, a tiny hint of sadness and disappointment inside your heart. Leon doesn’t owe you anything, you know that. You are grateful to be able to have made this afternoon less miserable. You joke when he finally faces you, trying to lighten the mood.

“Fifty dollars at the table.” His eyebrows arch in question, and you shake your head. “Never mind.”

He grabs your arm gently before you can walk toward the exit door. You look back to Leon, who seems to be debating choosing his words carefully.

“This shouldn’t be the last time we see each other, right?” An idea flares up in your head.

“No. The government will probably need more. I will especially supervise those collections if you allow me.”

“I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.”

You couldn’t agree more. For science.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennecy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #thank you troye sivan for rush <3 helped me lots to write this fic #you should have seen my face when i wrote reader offering that fleshlight

[lightsoutletsgo]

gotta go my own way — ln.4

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst to absolute crack and stupidity that makes no sense

request: Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

I fully thank @norrizzandpia for the hot mess that is the end of this fic. we couldn't stop cry laughing once we pictured the rest of the grid watching them sing the song and thus the end of the fic was born. (also credits to them bc I stole some of the dialogue lines they sent to my dm's!) happy reading! mimi 🤍 (I'm so so sorry if this isn't the request fill you were hoping for 😭)

taglist (all works): @arieslost - babe I'm so sorry I'm tagging you in this mess

“Y/N wait!!” You heard Lando call your name from the opposite side of the hotel courtyard and you turned to see him sprinting after you. You stopped and rested your suitcase next to you as he reached you, “Where are you going? Baby we can talk about this!” His hand reached for your arm and you stepped back with a sigh, “Lando… Listen…” He looked at you, pleading as he searched your face, “I guess I just need to say it straight right?” Your heart clenched, god knows this wasn’t easy, “Something about us just… doesn’t seem right these days…” You tried to speak as gently as possible, wanting Lando to understand you weren’t mad at him. “Neither one of us can help it, I know that, but it feels like whatever we try and do somehow the plan is always rearranged…” You trailed off, stepping back towards him and taking his hand gently. You didn’t look up at him, instead choosing to look at where his hand was now gently squeezing yours, his thumb rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. Whether it was to soothe you or himself you weren’t sure but you took a deep breath to calm yourself. 

He didn’t say a thing, just gave you the space to continue talking, “I knew what I signed up for when I started dating you and if I went back and did it all over again I wouldn’t change my mind. I guess I just didn’t expect that it would affect my life so much? My job, my friends, my family?” Your eyes flitted up to his and you noticed how there were tears now pricking the corner of his eyes. “So what are you saying?” Your bottom lip trembled as you shrugged apologetically, “I’ve got to move on and be who I am…” It was so silent that you hardly dared to breathe. “Lando I’ve tried, I really really have but… Losing my privacy? Losing my time with the other people I love? Sacrificing my job? I just-” Lando scoffed and took his hand away from you “But what about us? What about everything we’ve been through?” “Well what about trust and everything that I’ve given up for you?!” You couldn’t help the way you raised your voice, Lando flinched at your words, seeming to realise how blind he’d been about your struggles, 

“You know I never wanted to hurt you…” You nodded and almost shrunk in on yourself, “I know…” Lando approached you slowly, not wanting to make you feel pressured or smothered, “I just need to know… Do you not love me anymore?” You let out a forced laugh as your eyes welled up with tears, “Do I not love you anymore? Lando I still love you so much that it’s killing me to do this but I know I have to-” “Why? If you still love me then why?!” “Because if I don’t leave you now then I’ll continue to give up everything else for you because I love you that damn much but maybe for a while I need to love myself!” You ranted, panting when you finished. 

He inhaled sharply and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall as you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry- “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was firm,  “I have to go, my flight is in a couple of hours.” “I’ll miss you.” His voice was even softer, barely audible even though you were so close to him. “Who knows… maybe we’ll find our place in the world someday?” Lando gave a weak smile, “Yeah, maybe we will… Can I hug you? Just once more and then I swear, I’ll let you leave.” You nodded, unable to speak as you started crying harder.

Lando pulled you into his arms, as he too felt the tears start to fall, “I know you need to do this but it still really fucking hurts…” “I know Lando,” You pulled back to gently cup his face, “I gotta go my own way…” You smiled with a shrug. He pulled you closer to him and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, your eyes closing as you inhaled deeply. “I’ll see you round?” “Yeah,” You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and started to walk towards the door, “I’ll see you around.” ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Alex sat on the balcony of his hotel room that overlooked the courtyard, enjoying the cool night air. The door opened and out stumbled Oscar and Logan, their eyes glassy from the alcohol they’d been drinking at the afterparty. Alex chuckled, “Steady on guys.” Logan gave him a hazy half-lidded smile, “I’m okay!” Alex snorted, “Sure you are.” He turned his attention back to his laptop where his movie was paused. “Oh look! There’s Lando and Y/N!” Alex followed where Oscar was pointing to see you dragging your suitcase and Lando running after you. “Oooo I missed them! Should I call them over? HEY LA- MMPH!” Logan’s shout was muffled by Alex darting to cover his mouth, “I think they’re fighting?” Oscar looked sad as Logan tapped Alex’s arm to release him, “Surely not? They’re the perfect couple?” Alex leaned over the balcony, thankful that it was quiet enough that they could hear some of the conversation.

“What’s up guys?” The door on the balcony of the room next door slid open and out stepped George and Charles, “Lando and Y/N are fighting?” “Lando and Y/N? There’s no way! They’ll work it out.” Charles said confidently shrugging. Oscar’s brows furrowed suddenly, “Are you guys hearing that music too?” George frowned and craned his ears, “Why does that sound like High School Musical?” “Alex, is your film playing?” Logan asked innocently, “You were watching High School Musical?” Oscar snickered, “NO!” “I don’t know if I should be more concerned that we’re hearing music coming from nowhere or that George knew what it was straight away…” George scoffed at Charles, “Excuse me but the second movie has the best songs.” 

“Is no one else concerned that it’s coming from where Lando and Y/N are?” Oscar pointed out. “Oh God they’re singing.” Alex’s jaw dropped open, “Shut up they’re not?” “I promise you they are.” George and Charles paused for a moment to look at each other before scrambling out of George’s room and down the hallway to Alex’s. They burst into the room and pushed their way onto the balcony, squishing in between Oscar and Alex to lean over the railing. Charles slapped a hand over his mouth as he heard Lando sing the next line very loudly and out of tune, “Are they high?” George pondered out loud, “What exactly is going on?” “Well it can’t be a fight, there’s no way that’s a fight.” Logan spoke matter of factly, “Do you think they’re aware of what they’re doing?” Their expressions varied as you warbled out a somewhat high note, 

“More than that, do you think they know we can hear them?” Logan’s hand came up to cover his ear, “Should we stop them?” Charles asked, “Nope!” “Absolutely not.” George and Alex spoke across each other as Oscar’s phone appeared out of nowhere in his hand and he held it up to start filming. “Are they okay?” Nobody answered Logan, instead just watching you and Lando, until they heard a cough from above them. Leaning back against the balcony and tipping their heads to look up they saw Carlos looking down at them, “That, my friends, is debatable. But it is entertaining, no?” Everyone’s attention turned back to the two of you as the song came to an end and you walked away from Lando, “Oh my god guys, I think that was actually them breaking up.” Logan stated as everyone stood there in shock. Nobody spoke for a moment until Carlos’ voice filtered down from the balcony above, “Also I’ve been out here the entire time and would like to let you know that Alex was actually watching Camp Rock.” 

#mimi.writes #mimi.requests #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 angst #f1 crack #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris angst #f1 oneshot

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Five

Summary:

Astarion can barely contain his jealousy when he sees you and Dr. Dekarios having a friendly chat over coffee, and you're really not a fan of how it makes you feel.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.9k Tags/Warnings: possessive Astarion, jealous Astarion, praise kink, rough sex, library sex, I might get too deep in the weeds about theatre in this one, sorry

Y'all we are well on our way to a pivotal chapter. I'm not sure if you're ready for it. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. But for now, have some flirty banter and jealous library sex.

Both Gale and Astarion screenshots provided by our queen, @zipzoomzaria.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Ahh, we've given up on life then, have we?”

Astarion's voice pierces through the din of students shuffling and chatting as they settle for class. You're just passing through the hall on your way to get a much needed pick-me-up from the student union.

“C’mon Ank-yunín, it's college, we all wear PJs. Ain't no one cares how you dress.” Mol’s signature twang rises above the rest, and you can't tell if she’s deliberately mispronouncing his name or not. Knowing her, she probably is.

“Hells, Mol, are you positive you're registered for a 300 level English course?” The sneer in his voice is evident.

You poke your head in the doorway to watch him banter with his students before class. He is, in fact, particularly well-dressed today - and gods does he look good. He’s wearing a crisp and well-tailored white suit dressed down with a black v-neck tee shirt. He stands with one hand in his pocket and the other lightly sifting through papers on his desk. He's looking over his glasses with disdain at Mol and immediately your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes flick up towards you and your cheeks flush when you realize you've been caught. His lips curl into a mischievous smile.

“Oh Professor,” he calls to you, voice dripping with honey, “I was so hoping you'd stop by. We’re discussing iambic pentameter today, care to give an impromptu lecture?”

“Oh!” He's completely caught you off-guard and your heart speeds up. His smug little grin reveals he knows exactly what he’s doing. Not wanting to get roped into something you’re unprepared for, you hesitate, “Well, I'm not sure, I'm a bit busy…”

“Nonsense! You're not on your way to a class, are you?” He plants his hands on his desk and leans forward, grinning devilishly. You're not sure if he’s memorized your teaching schedule, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“I'm not, no,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

“C’mon miss, you know loads about this stuff,” Mol chirps enthusiastically, leaning dangerously on the back of her chair. “Way more than Ank-yunín over here.” She jabs her thumb at him and rolls her eyes.

“I suppose… I have time for a quick overview,” you say reluctantly, and Astarion’s smile grows. You walk into the classroom and glare at him as soon as your face is out of view of the students.

“That heart of yours keeps giving you away,” he murmurs when you're close enough to hear. You ignore him and turn to face the class.

“Oh, Thaniel, I didn’t know you were in this class!” you say when you recognize your student’s face. “That's a lot of Shakespeare for one semester, isn't it?” The class titters and your face grows hot.

“Unfortunately for you, that's Thaniel’s twin, Oliver,” Astarion says behind you. You clench your jaw in embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry, I didn-”

“No big, it happens a lot,” he waves you off. His energy is so much more confident than the timid kid in your Classical Acting class. You feel even sillier for not having realized it.

“So how much have you all actually done on Shakespeare's meter?” You shift your glance between Astarion and the class, trying to assess exactly what he’s pulled you into.

“None at all, they're a blank canvas,” he smirks, enjoying your discomfort far too much. He sits on the edge of his desk and folds his arms, watching you closely.

Fine. He thinks he can fluster you? You've taught iambic pentameter a thousand times, you can practically teach this lesson in your sleep.

“Fantastic, so I won't need to undo any of Dr. Ancunín's mediocre teaching,” you return his smug grin, a silent declaration of two can play at this game. “How many of you have heard the phrase iambic pentameter?”

A smattering of hands go up in the air. You nod and turn towards the white board. Not a single marker in sight. You turn to Astarion with a blank stare.

“Where the fuck are your white board markers.” It’s less of a question and more of an accusatory statement. He shrugs noncommittally.

“I don't need to write things down, that's what they do,” he says, jerking his head towards the students. You roll your eyes and shove him off the desk so you can rifle through the drawers.

“Does anyone know the first line of the prologue for Romeo and Juliet?” you ask once you've procured a marker.

“Two households both alike in dignity!” A redheaded girl calls out enthusiastically. You nod and write the line on the board.

“Awesome! What’s your name?” you ask.

“Yenna,” she states with a beam of pride that you’re showing interest in her. You feel like you can tell everything about her from this small exchange.

“Any chance you know the next one, Yenna?”

“No, that's all I've got.” She frowns a little, clearly wishing she could show off more.

“That's okay, let's talk about the first four lines.” You turn and write the next three lines of the prologue.

“Dang, d’you have the whole thing memorized?” Another student pipes up, a Tiefling with indigo locs.

“Well, I've been in R&J a few times, and I've seen it many more,” you shrug casually, and his eyes light up.

“No way, didja have to learn the whole thing?” he asks, just as another student chimes in, “Who did you play?”

“No, just my lines, but I heard the prologue a lot,” you say to the first kid, then turn to the second, “I played Juliet in high school, and a few years back I played Mercutio over at the Rosewood.”

Several students start to ask questions at once, and you hold up your hand to stop them.

“Woah woah, slow down, I'm only one person. Gods, do you ever talk to them about how these plays are actually performed and not just words in some dusty old book?” you ask Astarion incredulously.

“Who do you think Dr. Ancunín would play in Romeo and Juliet?” Oliver calls out from the back. 

“I think Dr. Ancunín would make an excellent Tybalt.” You flash him a coy smile. “Just the right amount of obnoxious.”

“Doesn't Tybalt kill Mercutio?” Yenna asks. Astarion looks at you more salaciously than he should in front of students.

“I'm certain I could offer a little death,” he croons in a low voice, sparking a flame deep in your core. You press your lips together, trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Aaaaaanyway,” you say quickly, moving the conversation back to the text and away from his flirtatious banter. 

You’re surprised by how much fun you have teaching Astarion's class. His students are lively and eager participants, if not to actually comment on the subject then at least to try to get in a jab at his expense. By the end of the three hour lecture, most of them have completed the scansion for the entire prologue on their own.

“Alright, we’ll meet again in a tenday,” Astarion calls over the sounds of everyone putting their books and papers back into their bags. “Don't forget that your soliloquy explication is due next class. And don't bother asking for an extension because you know I won't grant it.”

“I hope you enjoyed using me to slack off during your class,” you say to him quietly as the last few students trickle out. He lets out a throaty laugh.

“I do enjoy using you, it's true,” he hums, and you involuntarily press your thighs together. “Although you cannot deny that you had fun.”

“With you? Always.” You toss your hair and grab your bag. “Now I'm headed over to the student union for coffee because teaching your class wore me out.”

“Hmm, I would've thought you had a little more stamina than that.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and your ears grow pink. You start to move away to leave but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into a heated kiss. You need to force yourself to push him away.

“Astarion!” You hiss, panting and lightheaded. You whip your head around to see if any students are left, but the room is empty.

“Just wanted to remind you who’s in charge here,” he says with a haughty grin and you roll your eyes.

“Goodbye,” you say pointedly and make your escape, but not before he gives your ass a cheeky little pinch.

***

Of course the student union is swamped when you get there. The long line to the little university cafe is moving agonizingly slowly. The work-study students behind the counter are taking orders as fast as they can, but it's clear they don't have enough coverage for the between-class times.

After waiting for about ten minutes, you’re considering getting coffee off campus when you see Dr. Dekarios crossing the union. Reminded of the conversation he had with Astarion while you were trapped under his desk, you call out to him. He turns and there's a vague note of recognition in his wave.

You glance at the four people in front of you still and the half dozen or so orders hanging off the espresso machine. Deciding it's not worth the continued wait, you bound over to the arcana professor.

“Dr. Dekarios, I'm so glad I caught you. I wanted to chat about your theory regarding bardic magic and the humors,” you say excitedly. His face lights up and then falls confused.

“Oh, I hadn't told you about that, how did you-” he begins and your stomach drops when you remember that you were not technically a part of that conversation.

“Uh, Astar- Dr. Ancunín mentioned that you were looking for me,” you say quickly and your eyeballs feel like they're about to melt out of your head. Not wanting either of you to spend too much time remembering the state he caught you in with Astarion, you continue.

“Tell me a little more about this theory, because I think it tracks, but I want to hear the basis of it first.”

“Oh, but you were just about to get some coffee, weren't you? I feel terrible that you stepped out of line on my behalf,” Dekarios frowns, peering over your shoulder at the cafe behind you. It’s beginning to peter out as the time approaches the beginning of classes.

“No worries, I should probably save my money anyway,” you say with a shrug.

“Well then allow me to treat you at least,” he implores, and he beckons you back into line. 

The wait is significantly shorter, and when you approach the counter he says, “Hello, good afternoon. I'll have a small black tea with just a splash of that vanilla almond milk you know I love so much,” he says with a secretive chuckle and the poor work-study behind the counter plasters a pained smile on their face. Dekarios then turns to you and says, “And for the young lady?”

“I'll have a large iced double dirty chai with oat milk, thanks.” The student barista turns to start making the drinks and Dekarios’ brows pop above his wire frames.

“Goodness, that amount of caffeine this late in the afternoon would keep me up all night,” he laughs.

“The caffeine barely impacts me anymore, at this point I just need it to get through a rehearsal,” you respond with a polite joviality. 

The two of you sit at a small table in the student union to talk. For a pretentious arcana professor, he’s surprisingly easy to get along with.

“Walk me through your thought process, because I think you're onto something here, but I need a little bit more,” you ask, taking a sip of your chai. Dekarios gestures wildly while he speaks, clearly very enthusiastic about the subject.

“Well, we know that Shakespeare was responsible for a massive shift in how playwrights and audiences alike thought of characters, yes? From a balance or imbalance of humors to something more complex?”

“I mean, he wasn't solely responsible, it was more or less an inevitable cultural and technological shift, but yes, he was definitely at the forefront of that shift.”

“Oh fascinating,” he murmurs as his eyes grow wide and he leans forward on his elbows. “So do you think the advancement from from the College of Swords to the College of Lore was inevitable? Do you think they were related?”

“Related, yes, but not in the way you're suggesting, I think,” you muse, absentmindedly pressing your drink to your lips. As you're contemplating your next thought, you're startled by a hand on your shoulder. You look up and Astarion is looking down his nose at you, eyes gleaming.

“Dr. Ancunín, what a surprise!” you say in a strained voice, trying to decipher his body language. “Thank you so much for telling me about Dr. Dekarios’ theory regarding bardic magic, it's really a fascinating subject.” You lean heavily on the lie, although truth be told, all three of you know that you were in his office that day.

“Of course, darling, I thought you might find it intriguing.” As he speaks, he runs his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck, and the shiver that runs down your spine isn't quelled by the confusion blooming in the back of your mind. Why is he being so affectionate? And in public, no less?

He shifts his gaze to Dekarios and his eyes narrow.

“Dr. Dekarios, how are you faring? Well, I hope?” There's a slight venom in Astarion’s voice. Is he… jealous? The realization fills you with conflicting feelings of annoyance and arousal.

You can practically feel Shadowheart’s judgemental stare down from across campus. Possessiveness is not cute.

And yet…

There’s a thrill in the grip of his hand on your neck, the ice in his voice as he speaks to Dekarios, the flagrant PDA almost as if to say “This one’s mine.”

Maybe a conversation for your therapist later.

“Well, I'll leave you to it,” Astarion’s sharp voice breaks through your thoughts and you bring yourself back to the conversation. “Dr. Dekarios, always a pleasure. Darling,” his voice drops into a register that fills you with an intense heat. He pulls your chin up with his finger and plants a kiss on your lips that’s borderline inappropriate for being in public. It's certainly inappropriate for your workplace, but your head is too fuzzy to protest.

“I'll see you later,” he breathes and walks off. At minimum, he's left you flustered and embarrassed, but far worse than that, you are now insatiably horny. You press your legs together for some relief as you shake your head to clear it.

“I'm sorry,” you say to Dekarios, your cheeks unbearably hot. “I don't know why-”

“No worries at all,” he says, holding up a hand. “Far be it from me to get in the way of young love.”

“I don't know if I'd go so far to say love,” you murmur into your drink, but he seems to not hear you, or at least he pretends not to.

“Anyway, where were we?” Your voice returns to full volume as you try to expel the x-rated thoughts running through your head.

Your conversation with Dekarios - well, Gale, he insists - is delightful, in spite of Astarion’s peacocking. He's wonderfully knowledgeable about bardic magic, something you've always wanted to learn more about but struggle to find the time. Meanwhile, you're able to provide the cultural context and connections that are completely unfamiliar to him.

You eventually realize just how much you've lost track of the time.

“Oh gods, I need to go, I have to grab something from the library before it closes,” you say in a rush, picking up your bag.

“My apologies! I've monopolized your time, completely unthinkingly.”

“No worries, I enjoyed our conversation. And I will definitely check out that podcast that you mentioned. Remind me of the name?” You throw away your and Gale’s long empty cups.

“If Books Could Kill. Wonderfully informative, and the hosts are enchanting and amusing.”

You nod and mentally file it away for later.

“Great, yeah, I'll look into it. Thank you for a lovely conversation, we’ll chat again soon.” You wave as you scurry in the direction of the library.

***

You make it to the library about 20 minutes before it closes. You dash up to the third floor and make a beeline for the 800s.

You're scanning through the book titles when suddenly you smell that telltale combination of bergamot and rosemary. Before you can move, he’s pressed into your back, his hands tight on your waist and lips on your neck. You exhale in a long shudder and bite your knuckle to stay quiet.

“Astarion, what the fuck?” you accuse in a sharp whisper. You're fairly certain the floor is empty this late in the day, but you'd rather not take your chances. You grip the shelf as he pushes you into it and try desperately to suppress the moan threatening to tear from your throat. He breaks from his assault on your neck just long enough to put his lips to your ear.

“I don't like the way he looked at you,” he growls and reaches his hand around to grab your breast. You gasp and find yourself grinding into him despite your best judgment. It's like all logic evaporates when you're around him.

“I can talk to whoever I want, Astar- ah-” you manage to keep your voice steady until his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your skirt. You can feel his length along the cleft of your ass and you catch the whimper on your tongue.

“Of course you can, I wouldn't dream of stopping you.” His voice is a honeyed poison and his hand continues its journey south, sliding through the hair on your mound. “Just as I can be jealous of whomever I please.” He slips a finger into your folds and your hips buck into his hand.

“We- hnng- we can't do this here,” you pant even as your grip on his arm tightens, pulling him more into you.

“We can if you're quiet,” he breathes and runs a slick finger over your clit. You let out a high-pitched squeak that may have been mistaken for a mouse by someone wearing headphones. Maybe. He roughly pulls away and spins you around so your back is pressing into the shelves behind you. He hikes up your skirt and pushes his growing bulge into your core. He swallows your moan with a heated kiss and you grasp at the collar of his clean white suit. Which, given the way he’s grinding against your now drenched panties, might not be clean for much longer.

“I've half a mind to bite you just so everyone knows you're mine,” he hisses into your neck and pulls your leg around his waist, giving him unfettered access to your cunt. You let out a cry and he slaps a hand over your mouth, turning the cry into a soft grunt. Your pussy clenches in anticipation, waiting to be filled by him.

“But we don't need them to catch us to find out, do we?” he snarls and you let out another muffled moan. Every controlling grab, every fierce growl, every possessive word turns you on more. You want to let yourself succumb, be consumed by him. A quiet voice in the back of your head tells you “No, this is wrong, he’s being an asshole, don't reward that behavior.” But there is a much, much louder voice that works its way out of your throat.

“Ffkkk, msstrnn.” His palm catches his name from your lips. One of your hands grips onto the shelf above you while the other slides down his front and fumbles awkwardly with his belt. His hand leaves your leg to help you unbuckle his pants and your ankle hooks around his thigh.

His cock springs free and your breath hitches to see its pink bulbous tip already leaking precum. Your voice gets high and needy, your breath coming out sharply through your nose. He grinds his now bare erection into the wet fabric covering your pussy and presses his cheek to yours so his lips are right on your ear.

“Would you like that? Do you want me to claim you as mine? Mark you so everyone knows who you belong to?” With every word you gasp and twist against him more wantonly, rolling your hips to increase the friction.

“Say it,” he rasps and pulls his hand away from your mouth. You gasp and the words tumble out of you in a breathy whisper.

“Yes, gods yes. Mark me. Make me yours,” you plea, gripping the shelves even more firmly so you can arch into him, indifferent to the pain of the books digging into your back.

“Good girl,” he grunts and clamps his hand back over your mouth just in time to catch the loud whine that his praise elicited. He yanks your panties aside and sinks into you, and your slick lets him easily slide up to the hilt. You tilt your pelvis forward to feel even more of him inside you.

He pounds into you with short rhythmic strokes, making the books on the shelves behind you shake. Each thrust lifts you off your toes slightly, your one foot stretched to stay on the floor while the other remains firmly wrapped around his hip.

His breathing grows ragged with the effort, his breath warm and wet on your shoulder. You tangle your hands into his hair, tugging on his curls as you guide his lips to your neck. He sinks his teeth into the marks that have been taking longer and longer to heal. He drinks deeply as you keen into his hand, and it doesn't take long for your blood to reach his cock, making it throb inside you. 

The increase of sensation sends you rushing to the edge. Your arm curls tighter around his neck as the uneven pace of your jagged panting increases. You feel the familiar tightening in your core and your toes curl as heat and pleasure flood your body. You bite down on his hand as you're on the precipice and he unlatches from your neck. His feral growl, bloody mouth, and disheveled hair falling into his glasses send the orgasm rocketing through your body, and you feel him follow moments after. His dick pulses with seed and when he pulls out, you can feel it dripping down your leg.

The only sound in the library is the two of you trying to catch your breath, until, horrified, you hear a timid voice from a few stacks down.

“Um… the library will be closing in five minutes, please bring your books to the checkout counter.” You can hear little feet shuffle away followed by the door to the stairwell opening and slamming shut. You're silent for a moment longer before you both break into a fit of giggles.

***

You sit in your car in the university parking lot as you start and erase about a hundred different texts to Shadowheart. You're so conflicted that you don't even know what advice to ask for.

You finally settle on a simple, “I'm coming to your place. Open a bottle.”

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 au #college au #bg3 modern au #astarion x tav #astarion romance #office hours #baldurs gate au

[grandlinedreams]

hello!! i absolutely adore your stories so i was wondering if you could do one with zoro, and the reader falls down the stairs (but yknow survives, sorry kuina💀) and the reader gets like a broken nose or sprained ankle or something and zoro is just like super worried

i understand if you don’t want to do it but have a great day/night 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I'm going to resist making a "down d. stairs" joke but wkdnd absolutely, I can do that!! I hope this is to your liking!!

"I don't see why you're the one carrying this stuff. Didn't you say the old lady had a son? Why can't he do it?"

"Because, Zoro," you sigh as you adjust your grip on the box of carefully wrapped bottles, "Her son broke his arm last week. And it's nice to do things for people when we can." A smile tugs at your lips. "Makes us not seem so bad for a bunch of pirates."

Zoro scoffs. "We're pirates, [name]. We're not supposed to be nice."

"Says the man who ate onigiri off the ground for a little girl," you say, snickering when he aims a glare your way.

"Who told you about that?"

"Who do you think?" You shake your head, amused. "Who knew Roronoa Zoro could be such a softie?"

"You're gonna think softie in a minute," Zoro grumbles, ignoring the fact that his threat makes little to no sense as he trails after you. You're not even sure why he's chosen to tag along ㅡ boredom, perhaps.

"Ah, there you are." The older woman who'd asked for your help in the first place ㅡ Nina, she'd introduced herself as ㅡ pushes away from where she'd been resting on a crate near the door to her home. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost."

"My apologies," you say, "I was joined by one of my crewmates, I hope that you don't mind."

Nina looks at Zoro, her silent assessment making him bristle at the scrutiny before Nina says, "You look like you could use a good meal, the both of you. Why don't you stay for lunch? It's the least I can do."

Zoro frowns. "No wㅡ"

"We'd love to," you interrupt, silencing him with the hard jab of your elbow into his ribs. When Nina turns and heads down the hallway, you hiss, "Zoro, don't be rude."

He opens his mouth to say something, only to halt as Nina returns. "Could you take those downstairs for me, dear? And would your friend mind helping me with lunch?"

Part of you balks at the idea of Zoro helping Nina with food ㅡ after all, there's a reason he isn't trusted in the kitchen ㅡ but Zoro is answeing for you before you can stop him.

"I'm on it. Whatever gets us out of here faster." Nina seems unphased by his attitude, and he dodges the kick you aim at the back of his leg with a smirk.

"Brat," you huff, then peer around for the aforementioned stairs. There's a solitary door nearby, and you prop the box on your hip to open it, finding a set of stairs descending down below.

Given the dim lighting, your descent is slow. Taking it step by step, you shiver at the draft of damp, musty air that sweeps up towards you, tightening your grip on the box.

It happens when you're about two thirds of the way down the steps. The stairs are undeniably damp now, slick with condensation ㅡ and then you're losing your footing and tumbling down the last handful of steps.

Reflex can only do so much and with both arms occupied by the box of bottles, you have no way to brace yourself. Your shoulder slams into concrete first, followed by the crack of your head bouncing off it as well, making your vision blur with the searing pain that follows.

"Fuck," you breathe as you push yourself upright, hissing at the throbbing of your shoulder before you freeze at the slow slip of something from your nose. Bringing your hand up to swipe your fingers against it, you don't need good lighting to know what the sticky warmth is. "Well, shit."

You take a minute to assess the damage. The box of brown paper wrapped bottles is unbroken ㅡ you wish you could say the same for yourself. There's the deep throb of pain from your shoulder that all the way down into your fingertips, then the blood oozing from your nose.

Nothing is broken ㅡ you hope, anyways. It takes a minute to ease yourself onto your feet, closing your eyes against the way it makes your head spin for a second before you head back up the stairs.

You grip the railing as tight as you can, half-pulling yourself up the steps. By the time you reach the top your other arm is straddling somewhere between pins and needles and being completely numb, and you're certain blood from your nose has dripped onto your clothing.

Opening the door, you shut it behind you and rest against it for a moment before moving towards the faint sound of voices coming from Nina's kitchen.

"Oi, what took you so long?" Zoro asks, teasing in his tone as he turns from where he's picking up a plate of sandwiches (made by Nina, who hadn't really needed help so much as wanted company) ㅡ and freezing when he spots you.

You've clapped a hand over your nose to hide most of it, but there's nothing to be done for the limp weight of your arm or the mess you've made of your shirt.

"Oh dear!" Nina hurries forward, concern clear on her face as she stares at you. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I slipped on one of the stairs," you say, "Nothing in the box broke, though."

"That's hardly important right now," Nina huffs. "I've told Luke we need to fix things downstairs before somebody gets hurt, and now look at you."

"I'll be okay, don't worry," you tell Nina and look towards Zoro in silent plea for him to help back you up, only to find that he's still staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Poor thing," coos Nina. "I know I have a first-aid kit around here somewhere, and I can make you an ice-pack..."

"That's really not necessary, Miss Nina." Her fussing is starting to make you a little uncomfortable, especially given that you've had far worse than this. "I'll beㅡ"

"We're leaving." Zoro's tone is sharp as he strides towards you, ignoring the way your brow furrows.

"What aboutㅡ" You yelp as Zoro lifts you up, all but slinging you over his shoulder and leaving you to prop yourself up against his back. "Zoro! Put me down!"

"Sorry about this, but we're leaving." Zoro opts to completely ignore you, arm locked against your legs and undeterred by the way you squirm. "We have a doctor back on our ship who can patch them up."

Nina looks like she wants to argue for a moment before she nods, slipping ahead of Zoro to open the door for him. You struggle harder, smacking your good hand against Zoro's back.

"Stop treating me like I'm a sack of potatoes!" Zoro waits until he's a good bit away from Nina's before he halts, and your hope that he's going to listen to you is crushed by the way he simply adjusts so that now he's got you in a princess carry. "Zoro!"

"Quit complaining," Zoro bites back, "you want to drip blood everywhere?"

You quiet for a moment. "...Sunny's to the left." Zoro turns, and you groan. "Your other left." Zoro grips you a little tighter, but otherwise doesn't snap back as he follows your instructions. "I don't get what the big deal is, anyways. So I fell down the steps a little and now I have a bloody nose, but I'm fine."

Zoro's grip tightens to the point that it almost hurts. "Kuina."

Your head tilts. "Kuina? Your childhood friend?" He'd mentioned her to you once or twice before, the fact that she was part of his driving force to become the world's best swordsman. He'd gone tightlipped when you asked what had happened to her, and you knew better than to press.

"...she fell down the stairs," he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. "And...she died."

Oh. Guilt pools in your stomach, sinking feeling flooding your veins as Zoro walks. No wonder he'd given you that look at your flippancy of your situation. "Zoro, Iㅡ"

"It's fine." His tone is flat. "It was a long time ago."

You know that it isn't fine, that Zoro's too stubborn to admit when something bothers him like this ㅡ so you sigh, letting the tension in your muscles ease. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. Not any time soon."

Zoro says nothing at first and you think maybe you've said something wrong in trying to comfort him ㅡ and then his grip softens on you, just a little. "Good," he says, and you can hear the relief in his tone. "It'd be boring without you."

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #–ml: zoro. #ㅡanswered.

[the-kr8tor]

hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!

I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!

(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)

reader can be gn or FEM btw :)

Thank you for the adorable request 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.

The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.

The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.

You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.

Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.

“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.

Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.

He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.

“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

His next words shocks you both.

“I have no idea where we go from here.”

“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.

Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.

“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.

Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.

“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.

In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.

“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.

Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”

“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.

“We clearly love each other.”

“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”

“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.

Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?

“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”

“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”

Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.

While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.

After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.

“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”

“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”

“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.

“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”

With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.

“I think the bride goes first.”

“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”

He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.

“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”

Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”

Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.

“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.

“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”

He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.

Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.

“My turn?”

“Mm-hmm”

Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.

He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.

“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”

If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.

“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”

You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.

“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.

That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.

“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.

“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.

“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie fluff #hobie x reader #fanfic #spiderpunk

[russellsppttemplates]

Promise (Lewis Hamilton)

The season has kept Lewis so busy he hasn't been paying attention to you in the way you needed

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (since april), I'm finally posting this one. The timeline is a bit bent to fit what I already had written for what was requested, so I hope you don't mind it too much! Hopefully the person who requested this is still around and reading this ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions loss of friendships, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it. Lew already asked me to go see him race that weekend, I have booked the flights and managed to clear my work schedule too", you said to your friend after she practically ambushed you into have a coffee with her after work, "c'mon, I don't even feel like we've seen eachother recently. You're either at work or with Lewis. It's like you don't have time for me, or rather don't make it", she groaned and you frowned. You met up with her not even 10 days ago, and while you couldn't see her everyday, you managed to text her back with reasonable timing everytime she had any issues or needed some comfort, so hearing those words and accusations for what you recalled the third time over the last few weeks threw you off. Was it really something you deserved? You wondered, maybe you really weren't being the best of friends given everything happening in your life.

"It's been hard, my schedule has been all over the place. I've been quite tired and I honestly just want to relax at home when I get back from work, we've had a lot of clients, which has been good for the business, but there's also been a lot more effort in making everything work smoothly", you tried to offer her your point of view, knowing yourself that there were days you could barely answer your boyfriend back simple questions, both of happy and content to either just cuddle when he was home or have a quick videocall whenever he was away, letting you get your deserved rest.

.

"Do you have everything, darling?", Lewis said over the phone as you fastened the zip on your suitcase, "yes. Angela said that she could come and meet me with my passes. Apparently there was an issue with printing them, my name or something, I'm not sure, but she said they were good now", you recalled, looking back at your boyfriend on the screen while he smiled, "I can't wait to have you here with me", he admitted, making your heart soft, "it's been really difficult, the car and all, and I know having you here will be good".

The next day, like you had arranged, you met up with Angela at the entrance of the GP, greeting her with a smile before she noticed it, "was your flight that bad?", she wondered, "you look a bit off, dear", she explained herself better, "it was okay, just had trouble sleeping because of this crazy schedule", you tried your best to brush it off. You had looked at yourself in the mirror, and had noticed the eye bags, the veins around your eyes much stronger and, truly, you knew no one would believe you were okay, but you guessed trying wouldn't be hard, and despite feeling like Angela caught on, she decided to drop the subject, handing you your pass and grabbing your suitcase once you reached the hospitality so she could store it in a safe place.

"Hey, Y/N", George smiled, greeting you as you both walked down to the garage, "Lewis mentioned you'd be joining us today", he said, opening the door for you before following you by your side, "the flight was delayed a little, and there was traffic here, or at least my driver said it isn't usually that busy, so I got here to the sound of the engines already", you pouted, grabbing a headset for yourself from the wall.

"I'll be in there with Toto and Mick, we'll speak later, okay? Carmen is also travelling tomorrow night", George said as he walked up to sit with the rest of the team, sitting this session out as they had chosen to have Frederik drive this session on his place.

The free practice sessions did not go all that well, especially considering how you knew Lewis and the whole team would have wanted them to go, so when Lewis came out of the last session, the team allowed them a few hours so they could rest up a little and get re-energised before debriefing.

"Hey, gorgeous", Lewis said as he walked up to you, "I'm so happy you're here", he mumbled against the thin skin on your neck, taking in your scent and presence as your arms wrapped around his torso.

"Do you want to talk about it?", you asked, running your fingers on his back as the slight scratch from your nails soothed him as you walked to sit on the sofa, "I can't bring the car to the front, it's like I can't do it. We've worked so hard on it, the team has come up with so many improvements and yet it still isn't reaching the front, there's no comparison", he let it put, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "and I can't do it either, it's my fault too, I just want to make us a competitive team again, having fights every weekend for the P1, and yet, here we are".

Kissing his knuckles, you looked up at him through your lashes, "it will all add up, my love", you caressed his skin, "there's no way your efforts won't be rewarded, you just have to keep going, keep fighting, keep rising", you smiled, seeing the corner of his lips move upwards, "one day at a time, all will be well, you just have to keep going, we just have to keep going with those we love most", you muttered, joining your foreheads so they could touch.

.

Silverstone always had a big buzz around it, so you always took the week off, "remember last year? Your friends also joined us for the party", Lewis recalled as you sat in the hospitality. Media duties had long been taken care of and Lewis wanted to hang out in the meal area in case anyone needed him before you retired to his room.

"Yeah, it was a good time", you mumbled, reliving the memories in your head. You had had dinner and partied until early hours of the night with some of your friends, who were that at the time.

The previous week, your friend had been very assertive when she called you to show her displeasure of your lack of effort to meet up with her, telling you how much you had changed and how it wasn't fair that you could only meet up once or twice a month, "it's not fair to us or to our friendship, so unless this changes, I don't see how we can carry on". The accusations were not false, you recognised that you couldn't be as present as much as before, but the premise she was holding it on seemed wrong to you. And as much as it bothered you and pained you, calling it quits was the best decision in the long run. You had enough things on your plate, and having to reassure her that you were still there for her despite all the mean comments and accusations she would throw at you, wether they were about how much time you spent working or how Lewis wasn't the right person for you, was not something you wanted to endure for your own well-being.

"How is she, by the way?", Lewis questioned as he drank his water.

"We are not friends anymore, things just didn't work out", you offered quietly, not wanting to dwell much on the topic or have your boyfriend worry about one more thing.

"Y/N!", Lewis heard Carmen call, seeing his teammate's girlfriend approach you, warmly greeting him as well before he left you two alone for some catching up, "call me if you need anything", your boyfriend said, kissing the top of your head sweetly before leaving you two to speak and moving to the table where Angela was sitting.

"Is she feeling better?", Angela asked him, nodding over to you with her eyes and smiling as you spoke to the spanish women, the genuine easiness radiating from you.

"Y/N? She's been well, I think...", he said, unsure of his own answer. You hadn't talked much about how you were feeling, and he definitely wanted to follow up on what you had just been talking about when you were comfortable, but other than that, he had no clue. Work had been busier as you received more clients and you needed a little more time to rest that usual, and you had been tagging out of plans family and friends tried to make with you. Maybe Angela was right and there was something going on.

"You should talk to her, see how everything is, Lewis. I know she has a habit of bottling everything, and while I figured she'd talk to you and bring it up, and that it would help, I'm not sure it's enough", she patted his back as she allowed him to process the situation.

Later that night, back in your hotel bedroom, you had just come out of the shower, grabbing your toiletries' bag so you could moisturise your skin, propping your leg on the bed so you could rub the product into the skin as you heard Lewis walk around the room.

As you moved to adjust your towell while you put on your underwear, you felt Lewis' hands on your shoulders before his lips pressed kisses to your clean skin, his touch so soft and tender that it melted you inside.

"Can we talk about something, darling?", he asked, moving to sit in front of you, taking his place on the bed as Roscoe joined him.

"Sure, love. Are you okay? Is something wrong?", you promptly offered, ready to be all ears to his worries as Roscoe found his perfect spot on the comforter.

"It's about you, actually", he said as you pulled your top on, leaving the towell on the bathroom before coming back to sit on the bed, "what about me?", you asked, unsure of the topic was.

"How have you been? And I don't want to hear 'I'm okay' or 'just tired from work', because that's most definitely not the truth", Lewis began, holding your hand in his, "I've been so blind to all of this, and I only noticed now just how much you're being affected, and I want to know what it is and how I can help you", he gulped, "I've been so caught up in my own things and I've missed this, I'm so sorry, Y/N", he looked into your eyes.

You knew you had been unable to hide it. And now, you couldn't escape it.

Taking a deep breath, you traced the tattoos on his hand, the seamless way the ink flowed mesmerising as you allowed yourself to become vulnerable to him, opening up about your friendships and how everything at work was both the thing that has been keeping you sane and afloat, but also buried in doubt.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't notice this", Lewis apoligised, "I've been so absorbed in getting the results we need for the team, and-", you interrupted him, knowing the wasn't the one to blame.

"Lew, I didn't want to burden you with this, it's my own doing, too", you admitted, wanting to stop the whole blame spiral going on between both of you.

"Still, I should've noticed", he tsked at himself, holding you in his arms as you cuddled into his chest, "you shouldn't have to go through that alone, no one should. I want you to tell me anything that bothers you. My career is not above us, it will never be", he said as he looked into your eyes, "and, for all that matters, the decision to end the friendship was for the better. And I know you know this, and it still hurts, and that's okay. Roscoe, buddy", he called, "come give mummy a big, big cuddle", he smiled as the dog attended to his request.

"I'm sorry, too", you said as you petted Roscoe, his snores showing you he was enjoying them, "just wanted to be a happy and cheerful partner, and support you", you reiterated.

"From now on, promise you'll tell me anything that bothers you?", he assured as you smiled, kissing his lips as a seal of your promise, "I promise".

"I love you, Y/N, and it's me, you and Roscoe against the world", Lewis said.

"Agains the world and the rest of the paddock?", you joked, "just about, yes".

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[redsaurrce]

MYSTERY TO ME 1

summary . Wednesday liked mysteries, except... this one. The mystery which was you.

pairing . Wednesday x gn!reader

warning . mentions of blood, murder and kissing

MYSTERY TO ME 2

x--

You stare out of the window of your room to the endless horizon when your eyes dart to the field where Wednesday was shooting perfect arrows with Xavier. You've never known what love feels like, fair enough since every school you went to, you automatically became THE outcast. Love? Surely not something you'd have experienced.

It was bad, really. Bad when you were given judging looks, bad when you were alone in the forest standing in front of a dead body, your nails painted red, painted with the bully's blood.

For the first time that day you felt like you would lose your mind, because since then everytime someone triggered you, you would lose conscience and when you come back to your senses, you have had already killed someone. It was hard to explain, hard to believe even.

So you tried recording yourself while facing just another bully in another school and when you later on watched the camcorder, you saw a beast.. a beast which was you. Red eyes, scary aura and a murderous look.

You found out that your parents tried everything to keep their secret from you thinking that maybe if you never know, you might get out of it soon.

But truth sure comes to light one way or the other.

You thought there was no cure to this, until last night when Wednesday had told you to tag along with her to investigate the Nightshades case. You both were on your way to Xavier's shed where he kept his paintings.. rather scandalous paintings. The night was darker than usual which made you uneasy so you clung to Wednesday causing her to snap her head towards you.

"Dear Wednesday please don't slap away my hands now. It's scary you know." You gulped as you looked at the skies and then at front. Wendesday pursed her lips as she saw your scared face.

"Too bad. I should have brought Bianca instead." She said and looked forwards. You looked at her in disbelief, "Why do I remember someone saying that they even hate to breathe the same air as Bianca?" She kept quite, not because she was speechless but rather.. that was her way of rolling eyes.

"Here we are. If you don't want to come inside, you can stay here." She said as she removed your hands from her arm.

Which unexpectedly made you a little sad. You scoffed, "Isn't going inside safer than staying outside in the wild here?" You commented and walked straight inside as soon as she unlocked the door using her shenanigans until your eyes went wide looking at a monster standing right in front of you with hungry eyes.

In a span of seconds you lost your conscience only to become your beast self again but before you could encounter the monster, Wednesday came from behind attacked it.

You then saw her and the moment you tried to attack her from behind, luckily she escaped away but with a scratch in her forearm. She shouted your name, "_________ wake up! The monster's gone, it was only a painting!"

Slowly your visions became blurry and then turned to clearer. You saw Wednesday and at once ran towards her when you saw blood dripping from her forearm. "I-I'm so sorry Wednesday, I didn't want to hurt you at all." Your eyes became teary, why in the world would you attack her?

She sighed lightly, "It's just a scratch. Don't give me that look."

"I'm really sorry I didn't want to do that at all.." Your breathing became faster, "First aid.. does Xavier keep a first aid box here?" You started searching everywhere frantically but halted at once when Wednesday said, "Wait." She cocked her eyebrows, "How do you know it was you who attacked me and not the monster? As far as I know.. and if you've been honest with me, you said that you know nothing when you switch on your beast mode?"

You looked at her and then looked away to think about the same, "Wednesday I've never once lied to you.. but, ah.." You shut your eyes close as you tried to recall what happened moments ago.

"But what?" For Wednesday this looked just another mystery that increased her curiosity. Even though she liked mysteries and puzzles but this one... she's feeling different about this one.

She's feeling something else, a feeling of a parent looking at their child ride the bike for the first time. A feeling of concern. She has never felt liked this ever before, you were making her feel them.

"But I suddenly remember my name being called out! it felt like a wake up call, it felt like someone just woke me up from sleep and in my blurred vision I saw your terrified face, it was a face that a victim would make in front of the attacker, not a friend." You said and then looked straight into her eyes, "Which also brings me to the question, why didn't you counter-attack me? I clearly had harmed you."

The question felt like a dagger into Wednesday's chest, unexpectedly ofcourse, it wasn't like she had any feelings for you that your thought of her attacking you would hurt her.. right?

She looked away, "Then we clearly would have had to keep on fighting and that would waste my time. Speaking of which, we should go now."

--

When you looked outside the window, the words of Wednesday stormed your head, "She was lying, she's not the type to take blows." You murmured.

You rested your chin on the bedside, "Would things get better if I move again, I don't want to see the face Wednesday made yesterday ever again." A teardrop rolled down your cheeks.

Your parents were ridiculously rich which might explain the fact of you getting away with all sorts of murders you had committed so far. If you were to request your mother to move you again, they'd do it in a heartbeat.

"That's right, I should just leave. Wednesday deserves better friends." You said to yourself and curled yourself up in a blanket in a corner.

---

"What are you doing here Enid?" Wednesday looked through her dark long lashes at the ever so energetic and cheerful girl in front of her. "Well the thing is that ___________ texted me and said that she/he can't make it."

"Why?" She asked with her darkening gaze. "Stomach ache I was told." Enid answered. Wednesday frowned because there it was, the feeling she felt last day, she was feeling concerned.

"I see. Then let us go." She said.

After two or so hours of texting Enid requesting her to go with Wednesday in place of you, you were getting restless already. "They must be having fun going on with the investigation, well at least Enid won't harm her." You sighed deeply when you jolted up at the sudden knock on the door.

"_____________, are you inside?" That was Wednesday's voice. And even before you could think, your body reacted quickly and you opened the door immediately.

"I thought you were having stomachache.. the door opened faster."

You nervously chuckled, "Oh well, I'm better now so.. yeah. What are you here for though? How did your investigation go?" You asked while eyeing the packet in her hand.

"We didn't go to investigate. We were at the infirmary. Here take the medicine." She forwarded the packet.

You were surprised to say the least but then you contorted your eyebrows, "Two hours at the infirmary?"

She looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite tell what it meant. "You kept the track of the time?"

You stuttered, "Uh-uh yeah sort of, I had nothing to do any wa--"

Before you could finish, she spoke, "The thing is I was waiting for you but instead Enid came approximately ten minutes ago and apologized for being late because she was on date with Ajax."

You gulped, did she kept waiting that long? She could've texted- oh right, she refuses to be the slave of technology.

"Uhm.. I'm sorry." You had nothing except to apologize to her, which.. felt so shitty because since yesterday you only felt sorry towards her. And maybe a little bit of something else which you weren't sure of. It was happening to you for the first time afterall.

"Oh I'm so sorry again, you've been at my door since the starting, please come inside." You said and turned around to let her in when she grabbed your wrist. "I hate it everytime you say sorry to me. Can you please stop doing that?" You weren't sure what to say because a train of emotions just hit you, with her doing something unexpected, to her saying something unexpected.

You shook your head, "About that I'm sor- I mean I'll be careful about it."

She then looked down at the place where she had held your wrist and you too shifted your focus to that, all you wanted was to grab her hands back but at that very instant she let go off it causing you to feel a sting in your heart.

She looked up and then noticed how empty your room looked like, earlier when she had come to your room she didn't like how much stuffy your room looked like, filled with all sorts of stuffs and posters, but now, it just seemed so much emptier.

Then she spotted cardboard boxes and trunks. "What's all this? Are you moving to another room or decided to sell things on thrift shop?" She asked you while looking around.

You smiled dryly, "None. I'm just going to change schools."

She shifted her focus from your photoframe that you decided to pack later, to you at once. "Why?" She asked you, even though she tried to hide her surprise, you could sense that from the tone of her voice.

"I don't know... I just don't want to hurt anyone." You shrugged. She walked towards you and stopped once your faces were mere inches away, "Whom did you hurt? Weems?"

You chuckled, "Ugh no!" Then you seized your chuckle with a subtle but sad smile, "You." You gulped.

Wednesday liked the way you chuckled, it made her want to make that expression too. About your answer, she didn't like that.

"Then where are you planning to go?" She asked you.

"Why? Are you planning to send me letters?" You said jokingly.

"No, you said that you don't want to hurt anyone, then.. will you shifting to another school solve your problems? Will you stop killing people?"

Your blinked as you looked away. "Only if it was under my control."

"That's right. And I am sure you were sent here just to do that. To gain control over your powers. Your parents made the right decision ________, don't go." She said.

You sighed, even though you wanted to put meaning behind her 'don't go' , you knew she was saying it just for the sake of it. "I'm not saying just because I have to ______________. " You frowned, "Does your psychic abilities gives you access to people's thoughts too? And don't you try to talk me out of it when you call your own parents evil people trying to pull your strings from afar. Remember?"

She looked at you amusingly, "It's not my psychic abilities, just that your face is like an open book so easy to read. About the second part, I have no comment."

"I am not easy to read Wednesday, it's just that you know me better than everyone else."

"What?"

"What?" Oh shoot! Did you just confess like that? You cleared your throat, "Uh- uh I mean, you are good at reading people's faces. That's what I'm saying. You managed to figure out what I'm thinking when it's really hard for others to do so."

"I.. am.. not good at reading people's faces ____________." She said slowly and firmly.

"What?"You blinked.

"People call me emotionless apparently because I am not good at reading room. They throw a fit when I don't seem to get what they want to say through their expressions. I had a tough time staying close to people, that is why I prefer solitude." She answered with a stoic expression.

"I see.. but you seemed to do well in my case?" You said with a half smile.

"Which is weird.. I know, but do you know what is weirder?" She asked while folding her arms.

"What?"

"You figuring out me. I don't remember anyone understanding me as much as you do since I lack emotions." She looked down for a split second, "You bother me."

You got confused, "... like in a good way?"

She started walking towards you with steps that felt like they would leave a mark on the floor, you stumbled back and sat down on the bed while she kept decreasing the distance in front of you. "Can you read me now?" You said with a shaky voice as your breathing became faster.

She leaned closer and closer, "Yes. Do you think I want the same thing as you do?" You felt so enchanted and dazed when you looked at her lips which resembled the dark shadows lurking in the forest that night. "Yes.. I guess?" You weren't sure what you were saying but if it was an invitation for a kiss, then yes, i guess?

"You're right." And those were the words you heard before you felt her soft lips against yours. You grabbed her nape to come closer for a deeper kiss. It was so slow yet it felt electrifying, it defied Wednesday's knowledge of electricity for sure.

At that moment you felt nothing but staying beside Wednesday forever and maybe.. maybe you now have an answer as to why you returned to yourself that night when Wednesday called out to you.

Maybe Wednesday was the last piece to your puzzle, maybe she was the answer to your question and you were more than willing to search for answers with her by your side.

Because to Wednesday too, you were another mystery that intrigued her.. in a good way.

"Don't go." She breathed as you both parted for air.

"I won't." You said and tilted your head to kiss her again. You felt her smile on your lips.

Which was rare and you were in for it.

--x

This was my first Wednesday work AAHHHH how was it T_T tysm for reading luvs &lt;;33

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader

[serenityinstone]

Feline Fiasco

Hetalia x Reader

This is written for a female reader but there isn't really anything specific that would suggest that besides a few references. If you want to read, I'm not going to stop you.

Also (Y/n) is completely uninterested in the countries for the majority of this, all she's interested in is the cats. This is way fluffier than anything else I've posted, which is two things, and this part is relatively America-centric because (Y/n) works for him. This is also way less quality work than those two posts but idk deal with it?

There is more to this but it's unfinished and I'll probably never post it. My friend also helped with the cat names so if you don't like them... uh assume that they chose them. One last note, I thought it would be funny to write the accents so you also have to deal with that.

As one of the many secretaries working in the White House, it was actually quite a surprise to you that you ended up as the main secretary to the human personification of the U.S.A.

Because of this, you had become quite close to Mr. F. Jones and more importantly: his cat.

You couldn't help but coo at the adorable and floofy feline. Sure, you should probably finish filing those papers, but national security can wait a few more minutes. Besides you couldn't resist the allure of the purr. It would be an understatement to say, when you learned that the other personifications also had furry friends of their own, you were excited.

America didn't want you interacting with the other countries, especially not Russia. But you honestly didn't care and you weren't the recording secretary for those meetings, so it's not like you were in attendance anyways. That somehow didn't stop you from having to tag along and meeting more nation cats; of which you weren't sure why they had brought them along in the first place. It's not like you were complaining.

Ball of fur after ball of fur. No cat went un-petted. Except for Germany's cat; he had evaded you time and time again. But no longer! For today was the last day and you were going to pet that cat if it was the last thing you did.

There it was. It's sleek black fur, the ribbon in Germany's signature colors around its neck, and that always alert look on its face. He would evade you no more. You crouched down in your very inflexible pencil skirt and prepared to pounce.

"Vhat are jou doing?" A voice thick with a German accent called out, startling you and the cat who decided to bound back towards him and into his arms.

"Uhhhh." You blanked.

"You're America's secretary right? Vat vere jou trying to do to my cat?" He questioned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You gulped and tried to explain your actions in a way that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.

"I-uh. I wanted to pet your cat and… he kept evading me and I thought if I snuck up on him that I could pet him." You looked away and pitifully whispered, "Sorry."

"If jou vanted to pet him, all you had to do was ask."

"Really!?" Your eyes lit up and you looked up at the German with pure and unbridled excitement. He coughed and looked away with a slight blush resting on his cheeks.

"Of course." He held the cat out. You, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately started to adore and love the cat, even shifting it from Germany's arms to your own.

As you continued to pet the cat, who despite his earlier refusal, seemed quite happy, you asked Germany a question. "My name's (Y/n). What's yours if you're willing to share? No pressure though."

His eyes widened a bit before he shook it off and gave you an answer. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He responded, studying his cat. "Germouser seems to like jou."

You could barely stifle a laugh at the name he had given to the black cat. He sensed your amusement and gave an explanation.

"Feli- Italy named him. I vas going to name him Johann or something similar. Italy was zoroughly horrified by my suggestions and vould not rest until I vent vith his."

You smiled at the Italian's antics and shook your head with amusement. "Germouser is a fine name for an absolutely wonderful cat."

Germany seemed to get flustered again as he watched you coo at his cat, completely ignoring his presence. He would have just left him with you, but the meeting was starting soon and he didn't want to be late. Luckily for him, America decided to pop around the corner, demanding your attention. So you were forced to give up the precious kitty cat and return with Mr. Jones.

Alfred was annoyed. Not at you but at everyone else. Why did they have any right to be around you? You were an American citizen. His citizen. Sure, all you were really interested in was their cats. But what if you thought that they and their cats were so cool that you left him and went to live in a different country instead? He couldn't let that happen.

"So, (Y/n), dude, broette." He said on the way to the meeting room. "Here's the deal."

You gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.

"I need someone to watch Hero for me and my sitter flaked so you're gonna be watching him." He fingered-gunned at you and stars seemed to shine in the air around him. This, of course, was nothing new to you. It wasn’t like you would have rather been attending the meeting anyways.

So you stayed in a different unoccupied meeting room with a lovely, furry friend. It wasn't until he started hissing at a corner that you were in trouble.

"Hero, what's wrong?" You asked, concerned at the agitated cat. His tail bristled up and his ears flattened down as he took a defensive position. Out of nowhere another fluffy cat waltzed in from the very corner that Hero had been hissing at. It was Boris, a cat that belonged to Russia.

You hadn't actually gotten to pet him yet because to be honest, you were also scared of Russia. But… He wasn't around… and his cat was. And his cat was purring.

That was about all the reasoning that you needed to brush past Hero and scoop Boris up into your arms. The former started yowling for your attention and followed you as you went to sit down with the Russian cat.

You laid down on the plush carpeted floor and lifted the cat that you were holding up above you. Boris’ fluffy body was placed onto your chest and he immediately started purring louder once he got comfortable. He nuzzled his face into your neck, much to the annoyance of the American cat. Hero yowled at you and pawed at Boris, desperately trying to get him off.

Boris only gave him a smug look in return and kneaded into you, further solidifying his spot. Hero decided that it wasn’t worth the fight and that he was going to get his owner to remove the Russian cat and put him back into his mother’s lap: aka you.

The surprisingly smart and agile cat leapt around the room and pushed down the door handle, slipping out through the crack. You didn’t notice this as you were currently immersed in the bliss of a cat sitting on you and letting you pet it.

Eventually the purring lulled you into a peaceful and warm slumber, the two of you deciding to take a cat nap.

It would be Russia who found you first. Ivan realized that his cat had gone missing and he honestly didn’t care enough about the meeting to stay. It's not like anyone would try to stop him.

So as Hero bounded down the halls towards the meeting room, Mr. Ivan Braginsky came from the other direction; his sense of where his cat was at any one moment was completely uncanny.

The Russian gradually opened the wooden door and it quietly opened without any resistance. He turned his head towards where he heard purring and was met with a surprising sight. It was America’s secretary, with his cat, lying, with his cat.

You were breathing softly and the movements of your chest moving up and down also moved Boris. Ivan couldn’t help but faintly smile at the sight. Said cat opened a singular eye to acknowledge the new presence in the room. He flicked his tail and settled back into his spot. Not wanting to bother you or the cat, Ivan pulled out a chair and sat down. 

He pulled out some paperwork, seemingly from nowhere, and began to work on it. The sounds of your quiet breathing, combined with the light purr from Boris, made for a calming work environment. 

As the three of you remained in peaceful bliss, another kitty cat was running around the corner on the never ending search for food. Itabby trotted up and down the corridors looking for an open door that might lead to some food that didn’t come from England. Her golden fur glimmered as the sun shined through the many windows in the building. She looked over at a door that had opened slightly and was too blinded by the thought of food to notice the scarily familiar scent coming from the room.

Itabby scampered over to the door but screeched and meowed as she was sent flying by an American blonde and his equally irritated cat. She tentatively peered around the door at the scene forming.

“HEY!” Alfred yelled, startling both you and the cat. You shot up straight, Boris falling into your lap. “What are you doing with her?!” He yelled again, getting his face up into Ivan’s. The other man gave him an unamused look and stood up, towering over him. Alfred, despite this, did not back down and continued to stare angrily at him.

“Go away.” The white-haired male said, his accent heavy as he crossed his arms. “You have startled them with your unnecessary noise. You are just like the rest of your country.”

The air tensed and became heavier as the seconds went on. They began to size each other up as Hero, ironically, “heroically” walked proudly over to you and with his front paws, pushed Boris off of your lap. He quickly took his place and started purring. Boris’ fur began to puff up as he hunched down and prepared to pounce. His back legs flexed and he made the jump, sending both him and Hero flying towards their fighting owners, who were remarkably somehow not in a physical fight. Yet.

You very quickly realized that you did not want to be in the middle of  two superpowers fighting and quietly took your leave. (E/c) eyes met feline amber ones and you swept up the cat and made your escape, leaving behind the feuding men and cats.

Itabby snuggled into your arms as you finally slowed down to catch your breath. Her round tail whooshed back and forth as you tiredly walked through the long hallway. The two of you eventually ended up in the rose gardens of the meeting building. The area was well taken care of and beautiful if you did say so yourself. The meeting was taking place in England and Mr. Jones had told you about how the Brit enjoyed gardening, so it made sense as to why it was here.

Speaking of the British, you spotted a fluffy feline shape from the corner of your eye. It was deeper into the gardens and among the trees. Itabby finally decided that it was time to go and return to her owner. She gracefully leaped out of your arms and landed on all fours and trotted off to beg Italy for some pasta. You instead continued your approach to the cat, which at this point, you could tell was a Scottish Fold.

The left side of his face was brown and so was his tail. Alike to his owner, he seemed to have what you assumed were some kind of eyebrows and when he opened his eyes to look at you, his olive eyes stared into yours. He flicked his tail and layed back down onto the wall that he was laying on. His collar jingled as he moved and you quietly moved up to him. On the gold circle attached to the same olive color collar, was a name.

‘Scone’ You thought. ‘Oh my god. This is the most English cat name I have ever seen.’

You almost started laughing but the smoldering glare the cat gave you made you think otherwise. The stone wall was surprisingly cold for the summer sun and as you sat down, you took a look at Scone. He seemed to still be quite grumpy, but he knew you from earlier in the week, so he was not alarmed. You lifted up and moved your left arm forward to start petting him.

Scone was soft and clearly well-taken care of. His fur was clean and had no knots or dirt insight, despite laying around a garden for half a day. You continued your actions and the both of you started to fall back into slumber. Your hand hovered on the back of the feline and your head slumped alongside your body.

It was peaceful. With birds chirping and the wind lightly blowing. There was a river babbling somewhere in the background and it made for a serene scene. The only reason he had let you pet him was because you had fed him earlier in the week. He didn’t have his collar at that point so this was the first time you had gotten his name. Your eyes closed as you recalled the event from a couple of days prior.

The day after the plane landed you were on the hunt for felines. Armed with some cat food, a retractable mouse-on-a-stick and hope, you made your way around the building England had set aside for housing the rampant countries, and byproduct, their cats. France’s cat, Monsieur, was an absolute attention wh-. He really liked attention, and would rub himself against your leg anytime the two of you crossed paths. It’s not like France, or Francis, was much better.

It’s not like you minded petting him. He was adorable after all. The cat, not Francis. But you had wanted to meet as many other cats as you could and so you had to stop by Francis’ room multiple times to drop off Monsieur.

“Je suis désolé.” He said, taking Monsieur out of your arms. “He keeps getting out. But I guess he knows when there’s a lovely lady around.”

You ignored his attempts at flirting and instead scratched Monsieur’s chin one last time before leaving. He purred at you and while you felt bad about leaving him, you were on a mission! Besides, you had a certain Japanese cat to track down. Monsieur meowed at you as you walked down the hallway and if you didn’t know better you’d say so did Francis.

Either way, nothing was going to stop you from petting Tama, Japan’s cat. He was an adorable little black and white feline with the cutest little bob for a tail. You had actually spotted him earlier and was about to go up to him before Monsieur literally jumped into your arms, demanding attention. Of course you weren’t going to say no so Tama quickly left your sight as you went to return Monsieur. 

Wait, isn't Monsieur just sir in French? Oh well there was no time to think about questionable cat names, this building was full of them.

Monsieur wasn’t the only attention whore of a cat. Prussia’s cat, Purrussia, wasn’t much better. He would follow you down hallways and meow with his scratchy meow at you while Austria’s cat, Allegro, whined behind him. He literally tried to jump up at you a few times.

Of course both of them were interrupted when Hero ran straight at you and tackled you like a professional linebacker. You had thought that it was mostly fluff, but no, apparently Hero could pack a punch. He knocked the wind out of you as you fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The cat sat proudly on you and looked around like he was waiting for something or someone. Whoever he was waiting for, however, wouldn’t show up fast enough to see Purrussia return the favor and tackle Hero off of you, much to Allegro’s horror. 

The white cat had a German ribbon as well but it looked like it was fraying at the edges. The reason you were bringing this up was because Hero was currently using one of the edges to try to choke Purrussia and Allegro was using the other to try to pull Purrussia away from Hero. Neither was really working and all it was really doing was making Purrussia more and more agitated.

“PURRUSSIA!!!” A shrill voice yelled out from down the hallway.

The cats stopped their roughhousing to see two of the countries barrelling down towards them. Well Prussia was. Austria was slowly walking over, looking more inconvenienced than anything else.

“Purrussia! Purrussia!” Prussia reiterated, pulling his cat up by its arms. “Did jou vin?!”

Everyone but the two Prussians stared in disbelief at his statement. The albino feline furiously nodded his head and if he could have talked you would have imagined that he would have been saying, ‘I’m awesome!’

Hero angrily meowed down below, as if to oppose Purrussia’s non-verbal statement. Allegro just haughtily licked his paw and stuck his nose up as if to pretend that he was disgusted with their fighting as if he hadn’t just been a part of it. Austria picked up his in-denial cat and you picked up Hero who calmed down as soon as you did. 

“Sorry about him.” You said, brushing his unruly fur down with your hand. “He gets a little competitive.”

“Ja. It’s fine.” Austria said, petting his own cat. “Purrussia is not much better.”

“HEY!” Prussia yelled. “My awesome Purrussia is doing his best! And besides, at least he actually does something!”

“Jour cat picked a fight vith a vall (wall) Gilbert.” Austria sassed.

“Vell jour cat’s piano playing is trash!”

Austria gave a gasp of horror before inching closer to the Prussian.

“Jou take zat back, RIGHT NOW!”

Prussia just laughed, still letting Purrussia’s back paws dangle as he held him like one would a toddler. He got in close to the Austrian’s face, smiling deviously at him.

“Nein.”

He suddenly, while still holding Purrussia, took off, running away from Austria. He wasn’t far behind though and you could hear the man yelling in German all the way down the far corridor.

“Well Hero.” You said, looking down at the cat who had made himself very comfortable. “That was weird.”

He just snuggled closer to you and you sighed. You scratched him once more before heading down the opposite hallway. The destination was clear, before you could continue your cat quest, you’d have to get this one safely back to its owner.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, still sitting on the wall. The sun was now high in the sky and the spot underneath you was no longer cold. You were especially warm as you now had a Scottish Fold sitting comfortably upon your lap. Quietly cooing at the cat, you looked to see if there was any way to escape your furry prison. The most important rule of cats: once a cat sits on you, you’re not moving until they do.

You sighed, legs uncomfortably stiff. Scone was far more content and his bushy tail occasionally brushed against your leg. It was incredibly cute but it didn’t make your back stop hurting from being hunched over for the last half hour.

Voices came from farther within the garden. There were two people currently engaged in a soft conversation. You caught bits and pieces of it; there was a man with a British accent and a man with what you thought was American until you heard him say ‘aboot.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at your own observation, disturbing Scone in the process.

He scornfully meowed at you and you offered pets in an apology. Around the corner turned Scone’s owner and a man who looked incredibly similar to America. They both turned to look at you when the Scottish Fold you were fondling stretched out to impossible lengths and complained like a cat while he did it. England looked down at your lap to see his cat very happily cushioned on your thighs. The man next to him was also holding a cat who again looked very similar to America’s.

They were clearly different though. This man’s hair was more auburn and his eyes were a shade of impossible purple. There was also more of a wave to it whereas America’s hair was as straight as hair comes. Familiarity lit up in your eyes, not for the man however.

“Maple!” You exclaimed, wanting to go to the cat but also not willing to disturb the one on you. “How have you been?”

The men stared at you, wondering if you were talking to them or the cat. Of course Maple himself answered this as he jumped out of his owner’s arms and darted over to you. He gracefully climbed up the small wall and placed himself down by you. Scone was on your lap and he was nicer than Hero so as to not push him off. You moved one of your arms to pet Maple and kept the other on Scone. They were so cute you felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh.” A quiet voice spoke out. It came from the man behind England. “You’re Alfred’s secretary right?”

You smiled and nodded at the man. “And I assume that means you’re Canada, right?”

He looked a tad taken aback before nodding himself. “Yeah…” He trailed off and England instead picked up the conversation.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching his furrball cat, Hero.” He walked over and leaned against the wall.

“I was. But then he and Boris got into a catfight… and then America and Russia got into a catfight.”

Canada laughed in the background but quickly covered it up. England stared at Scone, looking to see if there was anyway to get him off of you without being scratched himself. He had enough injuries, that should have scarred had he not been a country, from the cat. He shivered a bit, though also began to pet the feline, scratching his under the chin.

“That sounds like those two.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing your affections. Canada also came over to pet his own cat who ironically did smell like maple syrup. 

“Can I make you the villain of this story?” You asked England, gesturing to Scone. “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh I suppose I can assume that role.” He mused, carefully picking up his cat. He was not happy to be moved but England just shushed him.

Canada also picked up his cat who was slightly nicer about the whole thing. He fidgeted with Maple’s ear as he held him.

“I’m Matthew.” He said, carefully shifting Maple so he could put one arm out to shake your hand.

You finished the formal greeting. “I’m (Y/n).”

The other blonde butted in from the background. “I’m Arthur, love.”

“It’s very nice to formally meet both of you. Seeing you from across a meeting room doesn’t really count.” You smiled and gave a small pat to each of the feline’s heads. “Well I wasn’t kidding about needing to get somewhere. I really didn’t mean to get stopped as long as I did.” 

You playfully glared at the Scottish Fold sitting comfortably in his owner's arms. He promptly ignored you, instead turning around cutely. England apologized but you told him it was fine. You were at least 50% sure that Mr. Jones was probably still fighting with Russia. Those two really were like angry cats. You waved the two men off and went on your way to find out the answer to that question.

Instead of coming across two feuding superpowers, you came across two of the Asian nations’ cats. You had already met them both but this was the first time you were seeing them together. Tama was sitting up high on a shelf while China’s cat, Meowzedong, was angrily meowing at him from down below. Everytime he tried to climb up, Tama would use a paw and swipe a book or other object down at him.

You flinched as a very breakable, very expensive-looking, vase crashed down. It was this movement that alerted the two cats to your presence and Meowzedong wasted no time at all to come over to you and complain. Now you couldn’t exactly speak cat but you got the jist.

Bending down, you carefully picked up the cat. Meowzedong always had a weird clump of fur that looked almost like a ponytail that, no matter how much China cut it, always grew back. He yowled at you and pointed a furry paw in Tama’s direction. The other cat had already loafed on top of the high shelf and you looked at him, back at Meowzedong, back at Tama, and then back at Meowzedong again.

“I don’t know how tall you think I am but I’m not that tall.”

Meowzedong just narrowed his eyes and meowed at you again. You sighed, looking back at Tama. If he had a long enough tail to flick it at you he would’ve. Sensing the futility of his quest, Meowzedong instead spread himself out in your arms and if you didn’t know better you would have said that he was mocking Tama. And if you really didn’t know better you’d say that it was working and that the bobtail was getting more irritated by the second. The personifications might have had to act cordial but their cats had no such qualms.

Finally, Tama de-loafed himself and gracefully hopped down a few other layers before reaching the bottom. He gracefully walked over to you and sat on your foot… Well shoot. What were you supposed to do now?

So here you were, from one cat prison to the next. Standing in the middle of some random, out-of-the-way hallway because the nations’ cats were all attention-hogging, though very adorable, brats.

You didn’t know how much time had actually passed. There was no clock in the hallway, you didn’t wear a watch, and both of your hands were occupied so you couldn’t check your phone. As cute as they were, your legs felt like they were about to collapse in on themselves. You couldn’t even shift how you were standing because Tama had taken it upon himself to lay across both of your shoes. Your arms also felt like they were going to fall off at any second. Meowzedong wasn’t a particularly heavy cat but try holding anything over five pounds for longer than five minutes.

You were desperately hoping that either they would finally get bored and leave or someone would come to save you. Wow you guessed you really did need a “Hero” right about now… Dammit you thought that referencing needing a hero in your head would magically summon America or his equally hotheaded cat.

“Tama. Meowzedong.” You murmured. “Can you please get off?” You hoped to whatever god or gods were out there that they didn’t hear the desperation in your voice. Never show weakness to a cat.

The two cats made eye contact with each other for a moment and seemed to come to an agreement. Meowzedong stretched his body out before jumping onto the ground. Tama did the same but instead greeted Meowzedong when he landed.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you said that you collapsed onto the wooden floor below. You quickly got up however as you didn’t want them to see it as another chance to sit on you. At least not right now. You pulled out your phone to see all of the messages and calls you missed. You had put it on silent while watching Hero and forgot to turn it back to vibrate.

‘Oh my god Mr. Jones called me twenty-three times.’ You thought, frantic. ‘I’m gonna be in so much trouble!’

You raced down the hallway, startling a group of micronations as you went. There was no time to apologize! You had to keep your job! If not for you then for the cats!

Not even thinking to knock you burst open the door where America was staying, side note why wasn’t it locked? And were greeted with the sight of!... Mr. Jones… crying? His cat looked pretty dejected too and was currently hanging himself off the side of the bed like a rug.

“Sir?” His head shot up to look at you.

He quickly snapped his head back away, mushing at his face in an attempt to try to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.

“(Y-Y/n)” He stuttered for a second, before immediately going back to the hero persona. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore him, instead asking your own question.

You titiled your body to look at what he was looking at… Was that a framed picture of you?!

It didn’t matter because he was very quickly all in your face again. You could see what seemed to be a rapidly healing black eye and a tooth that hadn’t fully regrown in yet as he smiled at you. Just how long was he fighting with Russia for?

You sat him down on his bed, considering if you should even bother getting a medkit for him. Either way you ended up spending the rest of the day with him, watching movies and sitting what you considered a good ways away from each other on the plush couch. He apparently had a nicer room in all of England’s properties from when he used to live there during parts of the year.

Hero filled the gap in-between you of which America was mildly annoyed about. He kept trying to get you to use ‘Alfred’ but you insisted that it was unprofessional. He’d close the gap one day.

#hetalia x reader #hetalia #hws france x reader #hws america x reader #hws england x reader #hws canada x reader #hws russia x reader #hws china x reader #hws italy x reader #hws germany x reader #hws japan x reader #hws austria x reader #america x reader #canada x reader #england x reader #france x reader #russia x reader #china x reader #italy x reader #germany x reader #japan x reader #austria x reader #hws prussia x reader #prussia x reader #nekotalia

[aclowntiny]

Business Booster- Wooyoung x Shy!Female!Barista Reader

Word Count: 2,379 | Coffee Shop, Fluff | Warnings: none~

This is my second café-centered story! It makes a slight reference to the one I did for Yeosang, but they aren't really connected/in order, I just thought it would be fun hehe just like making a small reference to one of my favorite webtoons!

“Hey, Jongho,” Wooyoung addressed his roommate, attempting to convince the maknae of his eight-man group to get out of the house with him, “have you tried Shot in the Dark yet?”

“That’s the new place, right? Not yet. Why?”

Shot in the Dark was a new café only a block off KQ. A convenient enough place to supply someone as enthusiastic about caffeine as Wooyoung, sure, but he could take or leave the coffee over the, shall he say, ambience.

The longer-haired man sat up on his bed, a hint of a smirk rising to his lips out of his casual smile. “Well, they’ve got a business booster,” he replied, using a piece of lingo he’d coined a year or so back.

Jongho knew the game. In his mind, he wasn’t quite as superficial as his next-to-youngest friend- at least not in the sense of wanting to drop everything because supposedly a cute girl worked at the shop.

Wooyoung, however, was not deterred by this, leaning forward & crossing his legs with a faint creak of bed springs. “And the best part? She’s shy.”

~

The young performer was feeling some espresso when he pushed open the heavy-looking dark metal accented door.

The bell rang right as he looked up, his eyes landing on you. One of the cutest girls he’d ever seen just casually standing there behind a coffee counter when Wooyoung thought her face should be all over the place.

But then again, if your face was all over, he’d likely not have a shot with you. Gift horses and all.

“H- hello,” you stuttered, glancing down even as you waved with a wide but sheepish smile.

Cute. “Well hello there! I’m surprised you guys aren’t busier,” Wooyoung commented with a wink.

“What do you mean?” Oh my gosh, you didn’t even get it! Could you be more adorable? More fun?

Either way, he’d put on some charm without flustering you too much more- didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, after all. He almost frowned at the mere thought.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve just been wanting to try this place ever since it opened up, and I’m glad I’m here!”

“Oh, well good!” You brightened, parted lips of confusion turning back into that shy smile. “Was there something in particular you wanted to try?"

"An Americano, please. I heard you guys do really well with strong drinks. Hence the name, right?"

"Right," you agreed quietly, gaze drifting down to the cup you held in your hand, pen at the ready, "and what was your name?"

"Wooyoung." He leaned a bit closer to you on the counter, smiling to himself at the way you looked a bit flustered. "You'll remember that, right?"

"Oh, er, yes. Of course!"

He smiled brightly, glancing quickly at your name tag. "I'll remember yours, too, (y/n)!"

He paid, sat down at one of the industrial-style tables to scroll through bubble for a bit, and before he knew it you were standing before him, glancing at the floor and politely announcing that his coffee was ready.

"This isn't what I ordered."

Your face fell as you bowed in apology. "It's not? I'm so sorry, let me get you another right awa-"

"I'm kidding. It looks perfect."

"I hope you love it."

"I know I will."

Wooyoung learned then and there your giggle was as adorable as your other mannerisms.

And with that, you parted ways, your latest customer vowing to become a regular and wondering how many people had done the same when a beauty like you greeted them. He shook his head, taking a sip of the- wow, truly perfect- espresso drink you'd given him. Either way, management knew what they were doing putting you out there.

~

"She's shy?" Jongho asked, amusement crossing his face. "And you took that personally, huh?"

"It's so cute watching her get flustered. But she's really so kind and polite, too, and-"

Ateez's maknae arched a brow. "You do everything you do on stage and yet you want me for moral support?"

"No," Wooyoung shrugged, "just an excuse."

"If you don't want the guys to be suspicious, they won't be. We know you'll never give up on coffee. I'll go with you, though. This'll be funny to watch. Or if not I can save her."

"Hey!"

~

"We meet again," Wooyoung commented the moment he and Jongho enter Shot in the Dark, eyes falling upon you. He glanced at his dongsaeng, not-so-subtly asking Jongho if he was right about you or if he was right. Jongho just chuckled, Wooyoung and him never having the same type, which was part of why the next-youngest member wanted him to be the one to accompany him. If he brought, say, San, he might have trouble, and quite simply put he wanted you all to himself.

"Hi," you replied shyly, nodding the guys' way as you carried a pair of steaming mugs over to the young couple seated in the corner.

"You remembered my name, right?" Running a hand through his wavy black hair, Wooyoung leaned on the counter again.

He caught the way you froze, eyes briefly, worriedly glazing over. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit, lips parting before you spoke. Finally, very quietly, you inquired "Yu- Yuyeon?"

"You don't remember? How could you, (y/n)? I came back here just to see you!" Placing a hand over his heart, Wooyoung gave you a hard time, though it did actually make his chest drop a little. Maybe he didn't have as much of a shot as he thought. Maybe you liked quiet guys. If Yeosang hadn't found his barista already, maybe you'd have preferred him.

"I'm sorry!" You hid your face in your hands, head dropping a bit in apology. "I think I just got it mixed up with a character from the webtoon I've been enjoying!"

"Oh, do I look like a webtoon character?"

You started to peek out from your hands. "Well, not him, but you two do look like you could be in one," you answered with a smile.

"And, hey, don't feel bad, (y/n)," Wooyoung comforted you, teasing tone fading into a softer one, "you were close. It sort of rhymes. That just means I need to come in more, huh?"

"Yes, of course!" You brightened. "Um...oh! Wooyoung!"

"You got it!"

"Yay!" You clapped your hands, smiling fully now, completely uncovered. The way your hair moved with your little bounce, the way your lips parted widely, all of it made Wooyoung want to grab you, dip you down, and kiss you. But hey, he could start with ordering a coffee.

"Can I try a café latte today?"

"Of course. Can- can I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely," Wooyoung encouraged.

"Do any of the pastries we have look good to you?" You asked, motioning to the simple glass case containing coffee shop classics like croissants, buns, and danishes, but a few unique-looking desserts neither Wooyoung nor Jongho recognized by sight.

"Sure they do! Those things with the pink and yellow frosting are really pretty!" He had flashbacks to Yeosang's café adventures. "Do you make them?"

"No," you shook your head, a proud smile falling across your face, "my coworker Jiwoo makes a lot of the traditional pastries, and some of the other international treats like the pan dulce you mentioned are made by Veronica, our baker who is originally from Mexico."

"I like the yellow ones," Jongho said.

"I like the pink," Wooyoung said.

Jongho ordered, deciding to see what the new trend of protein coffee was, and you took his order, repeating his name as if not to make the same mistake that you had with Wooyoung. They paid, and as you took their cups back you glanced away from them, pulling out a bag and grabbing a pink concha and two napkins to slide into it. You handed it out to the guys, and of course Wooyoung accepted it.

"Here," you told him, unable to meet his eyes, "for- for forgetting your name. It's on the house. Please enjoy it."

They both thanked you, making their way to a center table. Wooyoung swatted Jongho out of the seat that faced you, taking it so he could watch you work, chin resting in his hand as he unabashedly stared. You looked over at one point and he winked, sending you practically flying across the kitchen to the other side out of his view. He chuckled deeply.

"We're never going to see you at the dorms anymore, are we?" Jongho asked, shaking his head with an exasperated smile.

"Definitely not now," Wooyoung joked back, opening the white paper bag you'd given them to reveal the concha, which he pointed down at, grinning and loudly whispering "pink" with a proud smirk.

~

"I'm back!" spreading his arms wide, Wooyoung walked into Shot in the Dark with a grin, not caring at the weird look your coworker- Veronica, it looked like, judging by the tray of conchas she was holding- gave him.

"Wooyoung!" You blurted out the moment you saw him, causing him to giggle. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just remembered this time and-"

"It's alright. I like hearing you say my name," the performer told you, voice lowering a bit and cheshire cat grin widening at the way you very suddenly had to turn around to borrow something from your coworker, who gave you a head pat through her gloves.

"The pastry thingie was really good, by the way," he told Veronica, who smiled and asked if he was back for more.

"I mean, I wouldn't say no, but I'm not exactly here for the food, you know?" A wink.

Giggling, you just asked if he wanted more espresso as Veronica started prepping her icing, shaking her head as she was clearly far more onto it than you were. That or you just wanted him to make all the moves himself. Well, fine by Wooyoung.

"You know me so well, (y/n)."

~

This particular Shot in the Dark visit, he'd elected to run to the restroom in the back quickly while you made his drink. He missed being able to shamelessly stare at you while you brewed his coffee, but, well, nature calls. He finished up, sparing a bit of extra time to pat down his hair and pop another button of his shirt in the mirror, then strode back out.

As soon as he rounded the corner, he collided into something, or rather someone. Eyes widening, he saw you stumble, mug sloshing onto your shirt. Your light grey shirt. Which now bore a large, unfortunate brown stain. But who cared about a random grey shirt?

"Oh my gosh, are you ok? Was that really hot?" Wooyoung saw a towel hanging from your apron, carefully extricating it without messing up your outfit or seeming untoward, and handed it to you, extending a hand to the one that wasn't dabbing yourself off.

"Warm, but luckily we don't make our drinks scalding."

"I am so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and now I've ruined your shirt!"

"It's alright, this is just a plain one I bought at a cheap store for work. N-nothing sentimental, you know?"

"But still I feel bad," he said, looking into your eyes, which darted into his and back down to your messy clothing, his gaze never wavering, "all this mess just because I was too excited to see you again."

"Y-you're sweet," you commented as he pulled you up, gaze averted from your joined hands.

"Well, if you think so, I'd better keep it up then, huh?" Wooyoung replied, untucking his shirt and beginning to unbutton it all the way.

You immediately started, eyes widening as you swiveled around, turning your back to him and missing the fond smile that fell across his face. He took his shirt all the way off, buttoning the leather jacket he was wearing all the way up to the chest.

"Here, look, you can turn around again."

He knew you didn't think he saw, but your glance as you turned around was not directed at his eyes, despite the swivel. He grinned, extending the hand that now held his button-up out to you.

"I can't take your shirt," you all but whispered, flushing as he draped it around your shoulders.

"Sure you can. You can't walk around with a big wet stain showing all day, not that you don't still look beautiful."

Your eyes widened again, but you smiled as you slipped off your apron, tucking in and buttoning his shirt over your ruined one. "Thank you," you said simply, softly, sincerely, "I'll get this back to you, when...well, when..."

"When we have dinner tomorrow night?" Wooyoung asked hopefully, shooting you a playful side eye.

Those lovely lips of yours fell into an 'o'. "R-really?"

Wooyoung's eyes slid across your face, flicked down to his shirt on your body, one of the best things his eyes had ever seen, frankly. "You really still think people come here for the coffee, don't you?" He teased.

"It's a café," you shot back with a sheepish smile, daring to meet his eyes fully.

What can he say? He loved it. "A café with the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous barista who makes you forget all about how expensive their coffee is, because wow, she could sell me a cup of hot water for twice that price-"

"Stop!" You playfully swatted him, the sleeve of his shirt falling just a tad bit long on you, its soft fabric lightly caressing his jacket as your soft blow fell.

Wooyoung, of course, pretended to fall like you'd decked him. "I never lie, (y/n)."

"Well," you weren't sure what to say, "I will see you tomorrow."

"Great," he lit up, starting to make his way back out into Shot in the Dark before pausing, "well, actually, I did lie about one thing."

You frowned. "What?"

"I'd actually love it if you kept the shirt," he replied with a devilish wink before spinning on his heels, heading back out into the café with one final glance back to your blushing form fiddling with the hem of your newly-gifted button-up.

Jongho was right- who needed to spend all that time cooped up in the Ateez dorms?

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x female reader #female reader #coffee shop au

[byullielle]

Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader

Part 2/3

Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.

Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Smut, Manhandling, Resolved Sexual Tension, Angry Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. SEX SCENE IS CONSENSUAL. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.

Part 1 | Part 3

Guide: F/N - Father's Name

6.1k Words

You lean against the pillar of the infirmary of your manor, watching while Soyeon, your family physician, patches Christopher up. He winces while she gently prods at his bare torso, feeling for any more fractured ribs in the collision.

Minho is laid unconscious to be tended by Joshua, another physician who works under Soyeon. He did hit his head but was conscious enough to make it back to the estate awake. It was a disastrous crash, leaving Jisung and Changbin to clean up the mess left behind while Chris looked at you with mirth laden in his eyes.

You couldn't care less.

The moment you got home with the two injured men in tow, Felix came rushing to you with Jung Hyeon's file, finding out that she had the exact tattoo you found on the assailants the day before on her shoulder. All of them were piece by piece coming together—all your husband had to do was listen.

"We just have to wait for his X-ray results but he'll be alright with a few days of rest and to keep the wrist brace on at all times," Soyeon speaks up after hushed voices directed to Chris.

"Y/N-ah make sure he doesn't go out of the estate his broken ribs aren't fatal, thankfully they're only the floating ribs are affected,"

"Noted, Soyeon-ah," you nod, a bit frigid now that the adrenaline isn't needed yet still flowing through your veins. You nearly feel like your heart could stop in all honesty, a sharp pain stabbing through your chest that you simply take like it wasn't anything.

"Now you," Soyeon approaches before you hold your hand up apprehensively, "I'm not injured, Soyeon-ah,"

"I know," she sighs before taking your hand and pulling you into the doctor's office you set up for her team.

Jeon Soyeon has worked for your family ever since it was her grandmother running the medical field of the Jinyoung group. You were one of the few families who had well-equipped and strictly confidential doctors, making you less susceptible to hospital arrests.

"How are you doing," she asks before you sigh and lean back against the wall.

"The thigh wound isn't that deep, it'll heal in three days,"

She lifts her gaze from your file to you, "You know what I mean,"

"Do we have to do this?"

"The more you repress it, the worse it gets,"

You look down at your feet, hesitating before taking a stressed breath, "Yesterday. Happened while I was taking a bath, I think the attack on me the other day triggered it,"

You look up to see Soyeon's concerned face looking at you, "I dunno, kinda just remembered mom and stuff," you shrug, pulling your hands up against your arms.

She hums, jotting something down on a piece of paper before pocketing it, "Any more?"

"That's it for this week, I don't know if there'll be more,"

"And you still don't want to get medicated?"

"I think therapy is working just fine,"

She cocks a brow up, crossing her arms before leaning against her desk, "Really now?"

"I'm serious, Soyeon," you press your lips together, "I'm getting better, you said it yourself I'm just having some bad days,"

She shakes her head and pulls off from the desk, "Given your current situation with Bahng, those bad days would probably stretch on," she approaches you before placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, a flinch non-existent anymore.

"If you need someone, I'm a call away, okay?"

"Yes,"

Closing the door behind you, you head to Christopher's bedside.

"I'm sorry I nearly killed you," you sit down by the corner with a sheepish look on your face. The bandage on his forehead was definitely standing out, added to his already prominent collection of scars on his face, 'Continuously added by you, always,' your mind so helpfully supplies.

"Your unorthodox ways always seem to help," he sarcastically replies, making you frown a bit.

"You rest, and then I'll let you know what's going on,"

"No," he shakes his head, “You tell me now. You're still gonna help nurse me too aren't you?" he cocks a brow up and you can't help but scoff, "Aren't you a demanding one,"

"You nearly ended my life, Y/N, I don't know what that says about you,"

Somewhat miffed, you can't help but ball up your slightly trembling hands, "I wasn't planning on killing you! I was saving your life,"

"And how sure are you that it was for saving me?" he counters. You couldn't help but be frustrated with him, standing up from the bed while looking down at his sorry state.

"Oh please your injuries aren't even enough to kill you,"

"Maybe if you didn't act on impulse I wouldn't be on an infirmary bed with a gaping wound on my forehead!"

"I don't act on impulse!" you spit out bitterly, "It was a quick decision but I didn't do it without reason," you frown, voice getting higher and higher, more charged and agitated. He sighs and takes your wrist gently, making you jolt up slightly before he pulls you to his side.

"The Jungs aren't easy to lock down, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do,"

"Then you better make this worth it,"

You didn't know if it was him trying to get on your nerves or general mistrust but your hot temper was already on it's full throttle, you weren't about to hear anyone out because fuck that.

"You're so…" you trail off, closing your eyes before rubbing the spot between your brows, taking a sharp intake of breath.

"We won't get anything done here. Rest up," you mumble before walking away. If walking was stomping out of the infirmary then yes, you walk away there with a scowl on your face.

You saved his fucking life, not even a thanks.

'But then again, did you thank him for saving yours?' your brain nags and you stop in your tracks. Shaking your head away and letting out a fed-up groan, you carry on with the journey to your bedroom.

“Yeah well, she asked about where you were. She hung up on me,” Hyunjin recalls in Chan’s office, while his boss turns to Changbin with a cocked brow.

“She didn’t say anything when we left. Jisung did say she’s expecting either of us to follow,” the other guard explains while nursing a glass of whiskey, smoke puffed out of his lips minutes after.

“But Chan…do you mind?” Bin raises his head as he simply nods, “Go ahead Bin,”

“I don’t think she was planning to kill you,” he confesses, “Why go through all that trouble? She could’ve done it a long time ago if she really hated your guts,”

“Yeah but hyung that could be just her plausible deniability so that she doesn’t go suspect if the boss dies,”

“So you’re suggesting she’s pinning this on the Jungs,” Chan speaks up before reaching out to pour himself a glass.

“A little bit like that,” he meekly states, looking down at his glass. Changbin presses his lips together, “Although, I really think Jung is suspect, at least Jung Kwang-ho,”

Chan licks up his lips before sighing, “Clearly Y/N knows something. I might have to even talk to F/N-nim, he knows something about the Jungs,”

Changbin scoffs, “She did seem mad at you boss,” he shrugs, “Maybe apologize first before heading to her? And especially her father?”

Chan furrows his brows at him, simply receiving a shrug before Changbin stands up and grabs the holster harness off Chan’s table, “I’m on night duty today, I will see you two tomorrow,” he nods to Chan who simply nods back. “Good night, boss, Jinnie-ah”

“Good night Bin,”

“Night hyung,”

The door quietly shuts before Chan places his glass down the table, crossing his hands together before leaning against the oak desk, “Do you really think she’s trying to kill me?” he directly addresses Hyunjin, “I’m trying to be objective boss,” he sits up straight, setting his drink down as well, “Although a huge part of me agrees with Changbin-hyungnim, we can’t ever be so sure with her motivations,” he starts explaining.

“Y/N-nim seems so mysterious and closed-off after all, especially after getting married to you,”

Seemingly placated with his response, he leans back against his chair again, pondering the possibilities of what the fuck was happening to his territory. He knew a lot of people wanted him dead, in this world, there were more detractors than support, his head a constant prize amongst the pedestal of drug lords and mafia capos especially when branching out his reach in Asia or his bastardized status of being hailed as heir. If you have the world within your grip, its prickly sides would want you to let go.

He just won’t.

Sighing, he rubs the space between his brows with his fingers. “I’ll apologize to her,” he resolves. "Make sure I don't have any appointments tomorrow,”

“Yes boss,” Hyunjin’s gentle demeanor changes along with Chan’s. 

The heavy weight on your chest makes you unable to breathe, the struggle in your lungs heavily impeding your airflow. You crack your eyes open, a heavy gasp escaping you while you claw at the front of your gown, making Seungmin jolt up from his sleep as he rushes to your side.

“Boss,” he helps you up, concerned and worrying as you can feel the sweat on your back–sickly sticky and cold while the strands of your hair stick to your forehead.

Seungmin squeezes your hands once, looking directly into your eyes as you look around still shaken up by the feeling. “Remember anything? Where are you right now,”

“Bahng estate,” you answer breathlessly, “What time is it?” you turn to him as he checks on his wrist.

“2:30 in the morning,”

“Fuck,” you’ve barely been asleep, 3 hours in. “I– I don’t remember the dream, you frustratedly bunch your hair and rest your elbows on your knees, “But it felt…” you trail off, words dying on your tongue.

“Here, have some water,” he calmly hands it to you.

There’s a tremble to your hands, a little bit shaken as you take a big gulp, downing it in one go as a tired sigh escapes you. Night terrors–never one to quickly leave yet so fleetingly easy to overlook, to suddenly forget about what was so terrifying you felt as if your lungs were taken, left your chest bare and barren.

“I think I need to take a walk,” you shake your head and swing your legs over the bed, your bare feet touching the carpeted floor, “Go get some sleep. If something happens, Felix’ll be there,” you direct to Seungmin. You could see him hesitate, but ultimately take your order to rest up.

Wanting to feel the sensation of the cool floors of the manor you lived in, you forgo slippers, making it out of your room quietly as the patters of bare feet barely echo around.

Unbeknownst to you, Christopher sees your retreating figure, getting up to relieve some of the tensions of a sleepless night himself. Not wanting to impede on your time, he curiously follows behind right after, making sure his footfalls are light.

You feel comfort around the tall walls and wide ceilings of the house, it makes you feel smaller and a little bit more free, compared to the dark hellscape of a nightmare.

You take a few flights of stairs up, the faint crashing of the ocean audible to you from a distance as you hike up, carpeted floors further muting your presence as the textile presents a comforting roughness to it, like overgrown grass or stepping onto smooth gravel.

You could see the balcony doors, making a small skip towards it before opening it, the warm and humid ocean air pouring in contrast to the crisp air conditioning in the house.

With the deepest breath you can intake, you step out to the cool night breeze flowing against your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown and robe slightly damp with sweat.

Letting a shaky breath out, you let the door knobs go, leaving the doors open before heading forward to the ledge, arms placed atop the porcelain balustrade overlooking the moon shining brightly against the pitch-black ocean.

The silence of the night, crashing waves filling your senses vaguely while you let your nightgown brush and flow against your legs, and your bare feet resting against the cool marble, you could finally feel yourself breathe easy again.

Days of high adrenaline never came easy, the thrill of it all addicting to you yet the crash just as terrifying. You get used to it, but it always feels just as suffocating as the first time—it changes but it never tames down.

Pressing your lips together, you couldn't help but start humming a familiar song, letting the melody vibrate past your sealed lips before you could sense someone behind you. Abruptly stopping you turn and gasp to see Christopher leaning by the pillar of the doors. "What are you doing out here so late at night," he questions.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be on bed rest?"

"I'm not invalid, it was a few broken ribs, a wound on the forehead and a sprained wrist," he scoffs, not leaving his post as you simply stand there observing him.

Illuminated by nothing but the moonlight, his features are shaped out by shadows, sharp and chiseled but there was a certain moodiness to his eyes as it stared back at your very soul. You weren't in the mood for it. Y/N L/N loved holding grudges after all. "I'll leave your frolicking to it then," you sigh and detach your body from the balustrade, walking past him before he sighs out.

"I'm sorry for a while ago," his voice permeates throughout the empty hall.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, back turned against him. You walk away, unsatisfied with the flimsy apology. First he implies disloyalty and rebellion, next he disturb your midnight break? Unacceptable.

You knew Christopher could do better than that.

A knock permeates on the door of your father's den. Breathing out a puff of smoke, he signals one of the men to open it. 

You walk in, your four guards following right behind as your father breaks out in a grin. “Well, well, if it isn’t my baby witch of the westside,”

“Enough of this, I have things to ask you,” you sigh before signaling one of the rookies to give you a chair. They immediately comply, scrambling to move as you take a seat in front of your father, spreading the collected pictures in front of him before raising your brows.

“Well?”

“Ah…” he sighs and plucks one of the pictures off the table, “The Jungs, I know this tattoo well enough,” he grunts while leaning back against his chair, taking the cigar between his fingers before inhaling and blowing.

“What do you want to know, little flower?”

“What is the Jung family’s association with the Jinyoung group?” you ask.

He hums, “Trouble in paradise?”

You scoff a bit, rolling your eyes before crossing your arms, “Tough shit. Not a chance,”

A humored laugh boisterously bursts from your father, making him shake his head, “You’ve gotten smarter when you got married,” he side-comments, “Let’s see… Jung and Jinyoung group,” he tries to recall before almost automatically his head guard hands him a file.

“Oh right,” he flips through the papers, “Remember when rumors of Chan’s induction as head of the Bahng household started to transpire?” he raises your brows at you as you nod.

You were there after all.

“Eugene Bahng, the supposed heir was scrambling to get his hands on the position,” he looks down at the file, “Started pawning off promises to each family he could reach, one of them was the Jungs,”

You attentively listen. Christopher’s climb to the heir position was deeply muddled in objection and rejection. Your father was one of the men who sided with him rather than Eugene, the supposed “full-blooded” heir of the capo seat in the family.

He was the one you were supposed to marry, but you decided you wanted to side with Christopher as well. Your marriage fortified his chain to the position, the smallest push to completely desolate the rest of the family to avoid mutiny.

Which was happening now, so it seems.

“Plain and simple, the Jungs want Chan gone so that they could usurp the promised territories for themselves,” your father finishes his wistful little recollection of events. “I was there when Eugene Bahng called the meeting, did you know he promised off Jongseon-do to me?”

“Did you get it?”

He laughs, shaking his head, “That boy was as stupid as his mother. Anyone with a brain knew his propositions fell flack,” he lights up another cigar, “Do you know why I backed Christopher up?”

You look at him with uncertainty. It wasn’t something you questioned, nor something he openly expressed. “Because he was the wiser son,” you try answering with confidence but your father shakes his head.

“I was too much of a coward to put you out there,” he admits, rendering you confused as to just where was this confession coming from, “You are your mother’s daughter, to have you killed because you meddled too much wasn’t in the itinerary,”

You lean back, a small yet steady lump growing in your throat. This was the most empathy your father has shown you in years. “Christopher Bahng. He saw your potential and took you away from my arsenal,” he chuckles before glancing at you. 

“To each your own. Now look at you,” he juts the cigar towards your direction.

“Hunting down those who threaten your family,” he digs the ashen tip into the glass ashtray, “Atta girl,”

Ever since you woke up, you’ve been avoiding Chris. And now that you’ve gotten back home from your father’s estate it seems like your own stubbornness didn’t want to let up. ‘Trouble in paradise,’ you scoff while Jeongin opens the doors for you, ‘If paradise was nowhere in the first place then yes it is trouble,’

It was a little bit petty of you, you were aware of that. In a normal situation, you too would act the way your husband did—you just wanted to get on his nerves. And wanted him to get on your nerves too.

Dangling a bait too delicious to not take was a waste for you, so why make up and apologize properly when you can constantly avoid his attempts to make peace in a civilized and normal manner. 

Time was still running through the hourglass, god knows what the opposing family is up to now but you can go out and play for a little bit more. Chris was still inside the house breathing and alive.

"Miss boss you're home," Hyunjin welcomes you by the foyer before Jeongin takes your bag and holster away, "I'm home," you tiredly announce before stripping your shoes off, handing them to a maid nearby. 

"The boss would like to have a word,"

You cock your brow up at him, turning to his direction, "Suddenly I'm the one adjusting? Tell him this," you take a few steps toward the guard, "I thought he wasn't invalid,"

You walk off with a snotty stride to you, absolutely biting back the smile off your lips when you hear his footsteps retreat back into the house.

Christopher was normally the more patient one out of the two of you; never impulsive, ultimately pragmatic and a thorough planner. Dream guy, you're sure.

But there was a little bit of fun of him blowing a fuse. You just had to be patient and wait in turn. Heading to the living room of the huge house, you tiredly slump down on the velvet couch, reaching out for the book you were previously reading.

Propping your legs up the couch you comfortably lounge on the couch. It doesn't take you 10 pages until the familiar footfalls prick your ears, Chris' heavy footsteps making itself known once he enters the threshold of the living room.

"You're home," he comments, only receiving a noncommittal hum from you. You can almost feel his heavy breath against your nape, picturing him with his hands on his hips, "Are you really doing this, Y/N?"

A response isn't pulled from you, simply flipping the next page of the book before it gets yanked out of your hands, making you look back with a scandalized look. 

"What the fuck is your problem Christopher?!" you shriek, intentionally sharp.

"My problem is that I'm trying to fucking apologize!" he answers back, breaking patience as you nearly quirk your lips up in a victorious smile. Just a little bit more—if it seemed too serious you'd stop.

Rolling your eyes at him, you let out an exaggerated groan of irritation, swerving around the couch to try and overtake him, "It's fucking useless to talk to you," you mutter before stomping off towards the stairs.

"You fucking get back here Y/N L/N," his voice booms throughout the stairwells.

"Or fucking what, Christopher Bahng," you snap, sharply turning towards him, "Why the fuck are you even apologizing,"

"Because clearly we need to keep moving,"

You let out a snide laugh, crossing your arms, "And? I had the impression you could clearly work without me. Save it," you bitterly spit out, stomping your way up the stairs like a toddler.

Chris follows you, almost giving you a small pave of way before nearly pouncing on his prey, speeding up because once you get to the top your back is roughly pressed against the wall with his hands gripping your arms tightly.

"Don't act like a fucking child," he growls, face merely inches away from yours. 

Your eyes flit down to his lips, then to his eyes, a silent message delivered.

Placing your hands into fists you push him away to the best of your abilities, getting him off you before further shoving him until he stumbles back a bit, "You're the child here! Go and wallow in the fact you thought I wanted to fucking kill you," you brashly answer back, with your own snarl against him.

"Should I have known my efforts would be met with such disrespect I would've left you for dead!" you deliver the final blow before something snaps. 

Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your neck, making your head tingle and breath hitch as he forces you to look into his eyes. If he really wanted to kill you, he would've done so by now—easily being able to snap your neck in half with just his right hand.

Instead his thumbs press down your carotid, punching out a gasp from you. Your eyes meet, and despite the anger and passion burning in his eyes there was a silent question to everything. And you do everything in your power to relay the fact that he's forgiven, that he's free to apologize again and again along with doing as he pleases. 

And what he pleases he does.

With irritation still flaring in your bones, you press your clenched fists against his chest but never truly pushing him away.

"You're a fucking brat," he spits out bitterly, breath fanning against your face. 

"Not like you could do anything about it," you spit out with harshly.

"Watch me," he lets go of your neck only to grab your wrists harshly before throwing you on his shoulder.

A shriek is punched out of you, gripping and clawing at his back in a poor attempt to break free. "Christopher!" you yell, wiggling out before a harsh slap lands against your ass, groaning at the sting before your worldview changes, immediately facing the unfamiliar ceiling of his room while landing on his mattress with a thud.

He immediately gets to it, pulling your pants off with a rough tug. You bite your lip in order to hone in any noises you're threatening to make, gripping the sheets for stabilization before he strips his own clothing off. His half-hard member springs out of his pants and boxers, precum at the tip but not enough to make him wet.

You were salivating over the view before your ankles are pulled towards him as he stands by the edge of the bed, the pits of your knees now hanging off. 

"What, your brain got jogged in there somewhere?" he smirks cockily while pumping his cock with lazy strokes over your bare lower body. You want to close your legs together, feeling your slick leak out of your folds but with the position you were in his legs were lodged between your legs. 

"Look at you," his eyes zero in your leaking pussy, "What a fucking degenerate you are,"

You glare at him, leaning against your elbows before tugging at his dick a bit roughly, precum flowing out upon the contact, "Speak for yourself,"

Without warning, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out before taking his throbbing cock in one go, punching a groan out of him before you graze your teeth against his member, feeling him tense up a bit before easing it into your throat. 

Holding back a gag, your throat contracts and mouth tightens, tongue feeling the veins on him. 

"Fuck," he curses, reaching out to grip your hair but you smack his hand away, digging your long nails into his hips while bobbing your head up and down.

Spit flows from the sides of your mouth, slobbering about his long member. You knew it wasn't the best head you were giving but the way the oxygen was taken away from you by his huge dick obstructing your throat was sending sparks in your brain.

"You're so fucking shitty at this," he mutters before bunching your hair in his hands before bucking his hips.

A whimper escapes you, unable to pry his hands off this time while being forced to take his cock over and over again, the gagging sounds from you music to his ears. "You like that huh? You fucking slut, this is all it needs to shut you up," he sardonically laughs at you before pulling your head away.

You cough out, a mixture of his precum and your slobber accidentally getting out a bit while he gives you time to catch your breath.

"Fuck you," you mutter through tear-muddled eyes and spite. 

"Try," he pushes you down the bed before placing a bruising grip on your hips and lifting before his thumb pads around your clit. A stuttered gasp escapes you, clawing at the sheets below your hands.

"So wet," he whispers almost to himself while running a finger from your clit down to the shallow part of your pussy.

He takes his member with one hand before slapping the head against your clit, making you bite down on your wrist to hold back a mewl at the stimulation. He starts pushing down, tip catching in between your lips while your hips tremble under his hands. 

Eyes screwed shut, a shudder shakes you to your very core. And you know he isn’t faring well either, one of you ready to break the barrier of hate just so that you could move. Giving in, Chris suddenly slams into you, punching a shout from you before you reach out to claw down at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck- fuck, Christopher,” you mewl out, helpless under his grip as he chuckles at your wrecked state.

“God, already?” he shakes his head, “I’ve barely fucked you,”

“Too– Ngh– Too much! ” you whimper, hands snaking your way up to your chest to press and tug on your pebbled nipples against the silk shirt that you just realize was still on you–wanting to redirect the concentrated pleasure on your pussy somewhere else.

You were going to explode, his dick continuously assaulting the spongy spot right inside as the nerves jolt your body alight with electricity you couldn’t contain, cries and sobs punched out of you in sheer pleasure. The smacking of his hips against your ass was sticky, juices flowing down and spread out you didn’t know which one was yours and which was his.

“You’re–so rough,” you weep.

“You like rough,” he says through spent grunts, slamming into you full force as if he’s simply using you.

His’ to use, your own pleasure to neglect. Like he didn’t give a shit if he hit the right spots as long as his dick was rubbed raw along your warm walls.

He grits his teeth, thumb catching on your clit once again as a shuddering gasp is torn off your lungs for the nth time followed by a litany of moans.

“You wouldn’t…Fuck…act like such a fucking brat…’f y’didn’t enjoy this,” he slurs through the pleasure. Your back arches back against the tandem of his thrusts and the circling of your clit. 

“Shit! Christopher, fuck!” is what’s left of your vocabulary, thighs trembling against his hold as the knot in your stomach painfully tightens, body going rigid for a bit as the squelching sounds of your juices mixed around by his glorious cock echo around the room.

“That feel good huh? Are you gonna cum for me?” he leans down a bit, flames alight behind his eyes, hair plastered to his temple while he runs a hand over his curly hair, moving it out of the way.

You respond with nothing but a high pitched moan, pornographic at best once he slows down his thrusting to a grind.

"What happened to the big bad wolf that regrets keeping me alive?" he sardonically laughs, making you tear up at the sheer humiliation of it all. He stops his grinding, making you squirm around his dick while the walls of your core flutter around his member in anticipation.

"If you didn't keep me alive nobody would fuck you like this,"

Torn between wanting to keep your pride up and just wanting to cum, you sigh out in neediness, coming out as a pathetic and begging moan.

"Please, it escapes you in barely a whisper, "I'm sorry I said that Christopher. Please, just move again," you plead.

"You like begging don't you?" he mocks before starting his reckless and deliciously fast pace again.

He cocks a brow up, making you clench harder around him, his eyes flitting down from where he was sheathed in to your wrecked face, red and blotchy with tears, mouth with a trail of spit.

Your back arches, hands squeezing on your tits as they jiggle underneath your grip due to his ministrations, body slightly jogged around by his sheer force. His thumb is back rubbing circles on your clit, lifting your hips and thigh up before spitting on your swollen bud, picking up the pace.

You're nothing but a moaning mess on the bed, back arched, head thrown back and hips lifted up. The shocks course through your body like live wire as your clit is continuously abused the way your hole was.

"I wanna cum! Christopher fuck, I'm gonna cum!" you hiccup out.

“Then cum,” he lets go of your thighs while still grinding into the walls of your throbbing pussy. “For all I fucking care,” he takes your jaw into his free hand, letting go of your clit making you wail at the abrupt denial of your orgasm.

“No, no, no,” you try to tug his hand back but he moves it to your neck, squeezing with precision making your eyes roll back.

Squeezing his dick around you, it twitches against his member–making you shake and tremble under him as he doesn’t relent with his thrusts. His hands are still on your neck and you can feel the overstimulation rub you raw, making you arch your back and writhe around his hold which garners him to chuckle darkly, letting go of your neck before pushing you further into the bed. 

“You came huh?” he mocks you, making you sob against the sheets as you move your head to the side, body shaken up by his thrusts.

The pain steadily turns into pleasure as another tremor shakes you to your core, unable to speak, only drooling into the sheets with your eyes half-lidded and directed towards Chris. His grunting and moans start to spill out more frequently, thrusts getting more and more erratic.

And you couldn’t keep up the cruel facade, reaching out for his arm before he looks up at you. “Cum already…inside, inside please,” you manage to mutter out and he lets out a laugh of disbelief.

“Shit, Y/N,” his breath hitches. “Ask nicely,”

You whine, high and needy as the tears further spill from your eyes, cock still assaulting your spent pussy, “Chris!” you further keen, almost into a shriek as he hits a deeper spot than normal.

“Please please, cum already Christopher,” you sniffle. “I forgive you already! Please just cum! I can't take it anymore!” it comes out high and wrecked.

He clicks his tongue, "Yes you can," his thrusts become a staccato of shallow ones that did nothing but hit your g-spot.

It was getting too much, the coil breaking only to be tugged and tied back together. Your back constantly arched and legs trying to squeeze shut only to be blocked by Christopher's body.

“Channie!” the last of your brain cells fight, attacking the soft spot you knew he had, making him hiss. “Holy shit,” he huffs before three more erratic thrusts wreck your walls.

Warmth spills inside your hole, a soft sob wrecking your body while Chris cages you in between his arms, watching you as you tremble underneath him, chest fluttering up against the material of your now sweat-riddled shirt.

Then you feel it, while he pulls out, the obscene sound of your juices together coming from your pussy is heard and after a few seconds you can feel fluid flowing down between your folds.

Chris shudders and chuckles in disbelief, “Look at you,” he whispers.

You couldn’t do anything but let out a sigh, tired and definitely exhausted. “F-Feels…so fucking sensitive,” you whimper softly. 

“Wait here,” he mutters, landing two comforting pats against your thigh. 

You don’t know how many minutes it was, but you could feel a damp towel wipe you all over your body, sticky and soiled shirt now removed. He gently lifts you up a bit, deciding that the small yet damp spot by the foot of the bed could be taken care of tomorrow.

Opening one eye open, you could feel the bed dip before coming face to face with his bare body. You look up, and then your eyes meet. “Sleep,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair, then on your cheek.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss on the soft skin, before detaching.

Kisses were foreign to you and Chris. And although you wanted to ask, there was a nagging fear that pulled you back down as to where your place truly stood.

He pulls the blanket up your body, a gentle caress on your shoulder garnering a soft and satisfied sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, reaching out for your hand before pressing a gentle and chaste kiss on a healing scab on your knuckles, “And thank you,”

Through closed eyes, you savor his scent through the pillows plush against your head, a hum escaping you. “It’s okay,” you whisper, a hand landing on his bare knee as reassurance, “And I got you,” you spend the last ounce of your strength looking up at him, eyes meeting again. “Always,”

The light shines against your eyes, making you groan before feeling the throbbing soreness of your legs and hips.

Cracking one eye open, you notice the black cashmere covering your body contrasting the sheets you were accustomed to. The smell is also highly reminiscent of Chris' perfume and detergent, the pleasant familiarity helping rouse you out of the sleepy state you were in.

Looking around with a sleepy daze, nobody is found around the room but there is one thing you did come to the realization with. In over 6 months, it was one of the best rest you’ve ever gotten–no nightmares, night terrors, or panic attacks.

Sighing, you get up with a grunt before the door suddenly opens, making you pull the sheets up your bare body before Christopher walks in with a breakfast tray.

“Why were your guards so adamant about asking me how you slept?” he immediately asks while you rub your eyes and let go of the sheets.

“I get a bit restless when I sleep,” you mumble out before running a hand through your toussled hair, “Did something happen while I was sleeping?” you look to him before he shakes his head, handing you a platter of food.

“A few murmurs but nothing alarming,”

“Good,” you hum before taking the utensils with a small thanks.

He hums. “Meet me in my office later,” he orders, and you nod towards him. “Don’t let it wait until tomorrow,”

“I know,”

next chapter would be filled with plot, context, and flashbacks so please brace yourselves for the longest chapter in this series. :)

< previous next >

> moodboard; sampler 3

#skz #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #mafia bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #stray kids #skz chan imagines #chan x reader #bang chan x you #mafia au #elle☆walls could talk

[danifies]

Charming

hii story drabble for my favorite boy daniel page!

❝ TAGS ❞ fem mc x daniel, y/n used, year 3 spoilers, ooc(?)

You were charming, there was no doubt about it. That's what Daniel had always found intriguing about you, a muggle born who seemed to effortlessly charm all and any witch or wizard in proxy to you.

Daniel had a hard time pinning exactly how'd you do such a thing. Could it be that, given only being a third year, you were excellent at charms that most had trouble with? This definitely could be a factor, considering he's witnessed your impressive duels with Cassandra and the Frey's.

Or was it how you were so selfless when it came to helping others? He remembers first year when you dropped everything to find Ivy which you barely even knew well enough yet to do such a thing.

Daniel being friends with you, had taught him that over the three years of being at Hogwarts, you were quite known to all. It seemed like every class he'd attended had someone who dropped your name. "Did you hear? Y/n dueled with Elliot Evers! He's more advanced with techniques but yet she beat him!"

And that was another thing. Almost all of third year when the news had spread about his family being locked up, when he had blown off her and Ivy countless times to learn spells with Elliot, when he had told you a bit harshly that he didn't need friends but to be left alone, you never gave up on him. You helped him get Esme back, helped him fight in battles with Gridley, but most of all, you stayed. You stayed by his side.

After all that ended, you never once expected something in return for that all, which truefully daniel thought you'd maybe ask for a favour or two, but nothing ever came up... well perhaps not nothing

Daniel found himself in his least favorite place—the Dance club. He had received an owl from you to meet him here, so he was now. He had already awkwardly turned down the many offers from others to dance desperately, looking around the ballroom to catch a glimpse of you.

"Daniel!" He whipped his head towards your voice. You were dressed up more than usual; you looked... pretty. Her cheeks flushed from running to the hall, he assumed. It suited you, which made him feel a subtle warmth, trying to sneak his way to his own.

"Sorry I'm late, I hope you didn't wait too long" He shook his head and slipped his gands into his pockets. "Don't worry. Anyways why did you want to meet me here?" Daniel tilted his head in confusion when she let a giggle out.

"Well, it's simple." She smiled at him, and he cursed at the way his cheeks held the shade close to his hair color on them. "I want to dance with you, Daniel" He remained silent letting her words sink in before managing to blurt out "You.. want to dance? With me?"

"Yes Daniel, with you" Daniel cleared his throat and held out his hand "Alright then, I suppose Dancing with you isn't as bad as it usually be." She took his hand and lead him to the dance floor.

That day, he found out your charm was real, as real as anything. He finally fell victim after years of denying failing for such a thing, or so he thought. It seems he's been under since he met you. He was just trying to deem it fake for the sake of his heart. His cheeks would always flush red when you'd praise him for his skill in potions, when you asked him to dance so he wouldn't be bothered by others when they tried their hardest to persuade him.

You were charming, no doubt. Daniel Page found it intriguing how you managed to sneak your way into his thoughts, how you caught his eye everywhere he went, and how you, out of all students in Hogwarts chose him to give your every moment too. But he would want no other way.

this is my first time writing anything but the lack of Daniel story's on here is hurting my heart (っ◞‸◟c) anyways i hope this feeds other daniel fans well !!

#⌯’ㅅ’⌯ — sophie writes #“danifies ♡ daniel” #daniel page x reader #hpma x reader #daniel page #daniel page x mc #hp magic awakened

[bunnimatsu]

I know this sounds wierd af but um…how likely do you think the brothers would touch S/O’s boobs or butt (WITH THEM ENTHUSIASTICALLY CONSENTING OF COURSE)

GIRL YOU AIN’T WEIRD FOR ASKING CUZ I WANT THEM TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT

also i added a little personal touch to this since at first i didn't understand your ask, and i kinda just rolled with how i read it, so IM SO SORRY IF ITS NOT WHAT YOU MEANT

(small update: i got a little lazy and 'to the point' with these because this fandom is slowly slipping through my fingers :( so sorry if it isn't top tier)

tag(s): talks about booties and boobies so slight NSFW warning, ichimatsu being lowkey obsessed with you (as he should), etc.

osomatsu:

you don’t understand, he NEEDS to have a hand on you at all times. especially on your ass. he would constantly ask if he can touch your tiddies, even in public, and with your ENTHUSIASTIC consent, you’d mostly say yes and not care that others are watching but when its an actual inappropriate time, you’d be like “BOY SHUT UP”.

i think he likes touching your ass more tho and he more often than not, does the ‘put hand in the back pocket of your jeans’ thing.

karamatsu:

kara is also a 'put hand in the back pocket of your jeans' kind of person, but i think it's more of a 'im being protective of my woman/ kind of thing', but we all know....that's only half of the case.. i believe that karamatsu is a pervert but he chokes that shit down and hides it with his 'omg im so cool' facade. he gets nervous when he gets close to your tiddies tho, even if you consented or just did not care if he put his hands all over you, he would be like 'nope respect women juice comes first before my sick perversions'

choromatsu:

its a given, he's awkward as all fuck. listen, you consented, you told him you didn't care if he touched you, and he still sits there and stares at you awkwardly waiting for you to initiate something first.

one time though, he actually mustered up the courage to touch your boobas while you were making out and then he got cocky and started squeezing your waist, down to your ass and you moaned, of course, but his brain processed that as 'oh my god i hurt her' and he pulled AWAY.

you didn't forgive him for that one and he has apologized so many times since that day.

ichimatsu:

he's also a pervert that chokes it down, but i think in a relationship, his sick mind comes out more. OF COURSE, he would ask you first, he would never just let his intrusive thoughts win. and with your surprisingly enthusiastic consent...

all hell breaks loose..

what have you done, [name]?

that man is just as bad as osomatsu, his hands are EVERYWHERE on your body.

i think his favorite place is your ass tho. idk, its the perfect place to rest his hands on and he especially loves laying on it when you two have your lazy days.

he's just happy you exist tbh and he can do whatever he wants without having to feel bad about it.

jyushimatsu:

alright let me just make this clear, jyushimatsu is just as perverted as his other brothers, he just also drinks his respect women juice.

but once you give him free reign over touching you..

he's so 'cute' about it though, i think? he likes to mask the fact that he's tryna touch your tiddies with 'aww a hug from behind! how cute' kind of thing.

WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE JYUSHI.

todomatsu:

totty is.....totty. of course he would wanna touch your tummy more because of your belly button, but this is about boobs and booty. i think he's in the same boat as jyushi, 'mask the fact that he's tryna feel you up with a cutesy act' thing.

if you're taller than him (this is gonna get self indulgent), he likes to rest his chin on your chest (boobs) and look up at you all innocent, like, YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE TODOMATSU.

i think in general though, he doesn't really touch you anywhere, even with your spoken consent. the only times he'll probably touch you there is when you guys are getting....steamy.

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

the end! im so sorry this took so long to get out to you, anon. my life is just really busy and i never really have time off to myself anymore but hopefully this makes up for your wait! as i said, i did get a little lazy and just came up with some things on the spot but i hope its still worth reading! (i mean any matsu content is matsu content).

and as stated, my hyperfixation for this fandom is slowly dwindling but i really hope i can get back to it and get this content out for you guys!

also mini life update: i started my ear stretching process for gauges! its still very small and hopefully i can get it to a decent size, i don't want them TOO big because...ew.

#mr osomatsu x reader #mr osomatsu smut #osomatsu x reader #karamatsu x reader #choromatsu x reader #ichimatsu x reader #jyushimatsu x reader #todomatsu x reader #jarvis.fics

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+ #master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic #ageless aislynn #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying

[noosayog]

wc: 1k

content/warnings: angst, fluff

final part, directory here.

noos's notes: thank you for enjoying this series! I'm the worst at writing making up scenes, so I hope this isn't too abrupt but I really never thought I'd actually finish writing this series if not for all of you who reblogged with comments and tags! xoxo

--

When Sakusa asks if he can come in to talk, you decline and offer to go to a nearby park. It’s summer and the weather is permitting, but he feels a cold chill despite your tentative smile. It’s not lost on him that you don’t want him in your safe space; you’ll only allow him an audience on neutral ground. 

It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this. He’s grateful that you’re even willing to speak to him. 

“I-”

“What-” 

You both speak at the same time. Sakusa clams up and awkwardly gestures for you to speak. You sigh. “What did you want to talk about, Kiyoomi?” 

Now, he had planned out what he would say at this moment. He had a whole script, as well thought out as could be in the span of time he ran from the locker room to your place. He was even going to take Atsumu’s lines and incorporate them into his speech.

But he’s not used to the cold front and polite smile. His mind blanks out and he’s on autopilot. 

“How can I show you that I care about you?” 

You frown. Not the reaction he was looking for but at least he got the stranger-danger smile off your face. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think… I’ve been doing a good job of showing you how much I care about you.” 

“Kiyoomi…” you trail off. 

You pause for a moment, your facial expression resigned. Sakusa fears he might’ve said the wrong thing again. Where was Miya when you actually needed him? 

“I’ve never thought that you don’t care for me. Honestly, this is all on me. You’ve made it clear from the start that you don’t feel for me the way I do for you and that’s not your fault-” 

Kiyoomi is desperate to open his mouth, call himself an idiot and set the record straight, but you hold up a hand to finish. 

“Not your fault and I think it’s time I really put some effort in to let go of these feelings and stop hoping for things and crying at bad times and,”

You’re babbling nonsense at this point, voice getting softer and wobblier by the second and it’s terrible but all Sakusa can think about is how happy he is that you still seem to be in love with him. 

Silly, stupid, absolutely knuckleheaded Sakusa. Him. 

He says your name, resolutely, with promise. 

You shut up and raise your face to him. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more clear. When I say care for you, I don’t mean it was a friend.” 

You blink. The tears have stopped. Something’s working. 

“I mean it as… well, the way you meant it when you told me you liked me.” 

He’s on a roll now. 

“It took me a really long time to realize this and even after I did, I needed Miya to knock it into me. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was in love with you from that very first night, I’m sorry that I’ve been a coward and selfish, and I’m sorry that I’ve made you cry by yourself. So let me rephrase. What can I do to make you know, without any doubt, that I like you so much and I want to care for you in a way that you’ll let only me do?” 

Sakusa heaves out a big breath and he kind of expects you to just kiss him like they do in novels and movies but you just stare at him with big, uncomprehending eyes. 

You’re quiet for a moment and when you speak, you say something Sakusa isn’t expecting. 

“I want to, but you need to give me a reason to. All you've given me since we slept together are signs that you don’t want us to be together.” 

He did consider the possibility that you had already fallen out of love with him, but you still seemed to be very much emotional over all this. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he had made so many mistakes that even the weight of your love was overshadowed by hurt and distrust. 

He wants to let his flight instinct kick in again, but he didn’t steel his resolve and selfishly demand that you meet with him for nothing. 

And as a minor afterthought, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle reporting back to Miya that he ran from you again. 

“So let me ask you again, then. What can I do to show you how much I mean everything I just said? Make you breakfast and take you out for dinner? Clean your apartment? Tell you I love you everyday?” The list goes on. 

It makes you giggle and Kiyoomi counts it as a point won. 

“Are you sure this time, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi almost swoons at the nickname. “Yes.” 

“Then, while all those things sound good, I just need you to promise that you’ll try harder to talk to me when things get uncomfortable. ‘Cause all I ever wanted was for you to stay.” 

“I will,” and he means it. 

“It would be nice to hear you tell me you love me everyday, though.

“I’ll put a calendar reminder so I don’t forget.” He’s a hundred percent serious. 

You laugh and he leans closer, desperate to hear - no, feel - that familiar sound better. 

“That’s cheating!” 

“I’ll remember. I’ll never forget anything about us ever again.” 

“Omi,” you’re gentle as you pat his cheek. “It’s not possible to never forget anything. Just don’t forget to tell me how you feel.” 

“I can do that,” he promises. 

You laugh again. It's the kind of laugh like you don’t believe him, but he supposes that’s alright. He knows he can’t erase the months of loneliness and pain he caused you with just a few pretty words. But he does plan on spending the next few years, maybe the next few eternities, doing exactly that.

#noos writes #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq fluff #hq angst #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff