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whats-her-quirk · 2 years

Text

(with or without) my best intentions

pairing: tenya iida x fem!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: office romance, coworkers to friends with benefits to lovers, quirkless modern AU, romcom vibes and cheesiness

warnings: stress and anxiety, alcohol, consensual drunk sex, public sex, wall sex (Tenya lifts reader), brief pregnancy scare, car sex, tit sucking, secret hookups, teasing, shoe dangling, lingerie, oral sex, pining, fluffy smut, one (1) use of ‘sir’ as a pet name, tenya says ‘good girl,’ a wedding but not ours, minor character ships

word count: 20k

a/n: it's finally here! This is my piece for the @mybigbangacademia

art from @kaexiao - coming soon!

♪ fuck and run - surfer blood

When Tenya is running, air hot in his lungs as he paces himself to his music, he feels weightless. He’s curated his playlists by beats per minute, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the pavement syncing up as he achieves cardio zen. When it’s just him and the road—he’ll use a treadmill in the winter, but he’s always preferred to run outside as much as possible—his mind tends to finally, blessedly, switch off.

He wipes a bead of sweat from under the bridge of his glasses as he turns back onto his street for the final stretch of his jog. The exercise is second nature at this point; he’s been running since he was a hyperactive little kid that his parents signed up for cross-country. His stamina and endurance are only improving with age and the magic of a decent weight-training regimen. For all intents and purposes, he’s hitting his late twenties right in stride.

So why now, when he’s in the best shape of his life, more comfortable with himself as a person than he’s ever been, and working his way up to middle management at the office, does Tenya feel like he’s being dragged into a black hole that’s trying to swallow him alive? Before, his morning run was enough to clear his head and get him through the day, and lifting and resistance bands at night would help stave off the twisting, anxious feelings again until he fell into bed, dead tired and lost to the world.

But the past few weeks, all he’s done is toss and turn, barely hitting REM sleep before his alarm is going off and he’s lacing up his tennis shoes to do it all over again. He can’t focus at work; he can’t relax at home. He’s never been this stressed out in his life, and he can’t seem to figure out why.

—

Izuku calls Tenya while he’s on his way to work. Tenya answers with the Bluetooth in his steering wheel, which he doesn’t particularly like to do because it takes a bit of his focus off the road. However, he knows that his friend is in a bit of a rough patch, and an ignored call might do more harm than good for both of them.

“Did you see?” Izuku asks with a sniffle and absolutely no context.

“See what?”

“They went Facebook official. That means it’s for real, for real.” Izuku groans, and Tenya hears something that sounds distinctly like his friend’s head hitting a table. That’s all the context Tenya needs.

Izuku has been Tenya’s best friend since middle school, and for almost as many years, he’s been in love with Uraraka. While he had tried a few different times to show her how he felt, he refused to come right out and confess, for fear of rejection. Now he’s paying the price—according to mutual friends, she’s been seeing Bakugou for nearly two months. Izuku has been an absolute wreck since he found out, and now, apparently, they’ve changed their status to ‘in a relationship.’

“I’m sorry, Midoriya. I know how much you care about her.” Tenya can’t think of anything more comforting to say as he turns into the parking deck of the office building.

“I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my body and stomped on it,” Izuku sighs. “And why did it have to be him?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Tenya can imagine how much it stings, losing the person of your dreams to your sworn rival turned frenemy—as convoluted as it sounds. He wants to be sympathetic, really. But in all honesty, Izuku never made a move when he had the chance, so he should have seen something like this coming. She wasn’t bound to stay single forever.

Tenya pulls into his parking spot, right on time to be five minutes early. After reassuring his friend that he is not, in fact, ‘actually dying’ and promising to meet up after work, he’s able to get Izuku to end the call. With his briefcase in hand, he heads for the walkway that leads inside the building.

In the six years since Tenya started working at Plus Ultra, the company has grown and changed considerably, but one thing he can always count on. When he steps in the front door, Kaminari greets him brightly from the reception desk. “Hey there, handsome. Happy Monday!”

“Good morning.” Tenya knows not to take Kaminari’s flirtatiousness seriously—he talks to everyone like that, and it’s one of the reasons he makes such a good receptionist. In fact, his organization skills are so dismal at times, Tenya has to think his friendly, easygoing energy is the only thing keeping him employed.

Back when they were hired, Tenya and Kaminari were two of about twenty employees. Now the company employs nearly fifty people, plus freelancers. What was once a small startup selling cutting-edge exercise and physical therapy equipment to gyms and health centers around the country is now a leader in fitness product design and customized equipment distribution. While Tenya likes to think that it was his business degree and work portfolio that earned him his job, he’s fairly certain it didn’t hurt that he’s a bit of a health and fitness nut himself.

When Tenya looks up from wiping his feet on the rug, he notices he’s not the only one at reception. You’re bent over the front of Kaminari’s desk, your purse still slung across your body and your feet hovering off the floor and out of your shoes. You’re craning your neck to see Kaminari’s computer screen—why you didn’t just walk around the desk, Tenya couldn’t guess. All he knows is he has to force his eyes away from the slit in the back of your pencil skirt, for the sake of his dignity and yours.

He clears his throat before speaking your name, offering you a polite, “Good morning,” as well. While he’s not quite sure if he would call you a close friend, you’re certainly in his circle of ‘work friends.’ You haven’t been at the company as long as he has, but the two of you have worked together for years—you in marketing, him in the quality department.

“Hey, Iida.” You drop back to the floor, bare feet sliding back into your little pointed loafers. “Wanna come with us to lunch today? We’re gonna go to the deli, I think.” You motion to Kaminari with your hand as you extend the invitation.

Tenya adjusts his tie as he rounds the corner toward his department. “Sure, just send me a message on IM when you want to leave.” For better or worse, the office uses messaging software that’s equally as useful for sending quick notes that aren’t worth a full email as it is for sending memes from across the room.

It’s still early, so Tenya doesn’t run into anyone else on his way to his cubicle. He decides he’ll wait to grab a coffee before the weekly department meeting, opting to crack open his email first instead. After starting out as an account manager, working directly to meet client needs, Tenya was quickly transferred to quality assurance, where the work is more internal and process-driven. It’s his job to make sure that design, manufacturing, and sales are running as efficiently as possible. In practice, it’s mostly spreadsheets and data, but Tenya takes great pride in every improvement he’s been able to help coordinate.

Coworkers trickle in, settling in their cubicles as Tenya works his way through several of the emails that he got over the weekend. He’s so focused on getting the simple inquiries taken care of that he doesn’t notice the time until Shouto appears in his doorway. “You coming?”

“Yep.” Leaving his email where it is, Tenya tucks a yellow legal pad under his arm and a pen in the pocket of his vest. He’d wear a blazer if it didn’t get so hot in the building during the summer. For the next few months, to keep from sweating through his shirts every day, he’ll stick with a vest and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves when he wants to cool down.

At the doorway, Shouto hands him one of the two paper coffee cups he’s holding, and they head to the conference room. “Thanks, I was just about to get my own.” Tenya takes a long, blissful sip of his coffee—one cream, Shouto knows.

Shouto yawns, and Tenya notices the dark circle rimming his unscarred eye. “No problem. If you didn’t want it, I would have just drank both.”

“Long night?” Tenya asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Long weekend,” Shouto sighs. “When I wasn’t fighting with my dad about the guest list, I was begging Hanta to help me choose the flowers, the napkins—anything. It’s like pulling teeth with him and I don’t know why.”

The two of them pass the rows of cubicles separated by low partitions until they reach the glass door of the conference room. Shouto slumps into a seat just inside the door, so Tenya sits beside him. “Maybe he’s just feeling overwhelmed with the wedding stuff. It seems like you both are.”

After eight years together, Shouto finally asked Hanta to marry him, and from Tenya’s point of view, his friend has been stressed out of his mind ever since. Hanta has always been so laid back, practically the opposite of Shouto. While Hanta’s generally aloof disposition probably doesn’t help matters, Tenya suspects more of the trouble has to do with Shouto’s family. The Todorokis are well-known in the area—Shouto’s father is a high-ranking government official, and his sister was recently elected to city council. One of his brothers is a professional athlete; the other was publicly disgraced in a hastily hushed scandal a few years back. Even with an estranged mother that has only recently come back into the picture, somehow Shouto has always been the black sheep of the family. And it sounds like his father sees this wedding as more of a publicity stunt than anything else.

“Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it,” says Shouto. “Sometimes I wish we could just elope and be done with it.”

“Why don’t you?” Tenya asks, flipping over to a fresh sheet of paper on his legal pad. Their coworkers filter into the room one by one, slowly filling the seats around them at the long conference table.

“My father would disown me faster than he did Touya.” Shouto polishes off his coffee with one long sip. “Plus, Hanta deserves a perfect day if he’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of his life.”

“Don’t say that,” Tenya scolds as gently as he can. “You’ve always been a good partner to him. Maybe you should just be honest about needing his help.”

Shouto shrugs as their boss, Sasaki, takes a seat at the head of the table. “Guess so.”

The quality department holds an all-hands meeting first thing on Monday mornings—a necessary evil that helps address the priorities for the week. As VP of the company and head of the quality department, Sasaki leads the meeting in his usual droll tone. He cracks a few jokes about last week’s audits that mostly fall flat to the tired, Monday energy in the room, but at least he tries. Just before the meeting wraps up, Toshinori, the company’s founder and CEO, pops his head in to say good morning and to wish the team a good week. “I’ll be leaving for a rock climbing trip with some potential investors on Thursday,” he says brightly, “so try not to have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Sasaki rubs his temples with the pads of his fingers. “I’ll be covering his duties in his absence, so if you need me Thursday or Friday, no you don’t. Ok, dismissed.”

Papers and laptops shuffle as people file out of the room, some eager and some reluctant to get on with the rest of their mornings. Shouto nudges Tenya’s elbow. “I’m gonna get another coffee. Want one?”

“I’ll come with you,” Tenya offers, but before he can follow Shouto out the door, Sasaki’s voice rings from across the room.

“Iida, could you stay back a minute?”

“Of course.” Tenya waves to Shouto as he makes his exit, then approaches Sasaki at the front of the room. While he’s worked fairly closely with Sasaki the past few years, their relationship is formal, professional perhaps to a fault. When his boss wants to chat, it usually means extra work for Tenya. He tries not to sound too apathetic. “Is there something wrong?”

Sasaki straightens his stack of papers and tucks multiple pens between his fingers before he answers. “Actually, no. Not this time, anyway.” Tenya cracks a smile at his dry humor. Sasaki merely clears his throat. “I won’t keep you in suspense. The company is growing, and as Toshinori takes on more of the public relations work I loathe, my workload is getting out of control.”

“How can I help?”

“I’ll be stepping away from leading the quality department, and we’re creating a Quality Manager role to take over those responsibilities. Would you like to be considered for the position?”

Tenya speaks before he thinks. “Yes, absolutely.”

Sasaki nods. “Excellent. I’ll get back to you with more details soon, after we talk it over with a few other people.”

Tenya’s own words sit heavily in his own gut for the rest of the morning. The chance to move up in the company—that’s what everyone wants, right? He would be insane to turn down the opportunity for a promotion that probably comes with more perks and a bigger paycheck. He knows that. But even when he’s sitting in the deli down the street at lunch, picking at his salad, he can’t bring himself to be excited about the prospect of it.

“You ok, Iida? You’re white as a sheet.” Shaken—there he was, zoning out again—Tenya looks up from his hands to find your eyes on him, teasing but with a hint of genuine concern behind them.

Kaminari, his mouth full of sweet potato fries, points at Tenya with his fork. “You heard about the promotion, didn’t you?”

“What promotion?” Shouto tagged along for lunch, but he’s mostly been texting since you sat down. Tenya wasn’t sure he was even listening to the conversation.

“How do you know about that?” Tenya asks Kaminari, who leans dramatically over the table to answer while stealing one of Tenya’s fries.

“Honey, I am the eyes and ears of this place. If there’s something going on, I know about it.”

You shove Kaminari by the shoulder. “Shut up. You didn’t even know that Hatsume girl from IT asked Iida out until I told you, and everybody knew about that.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Even though it happened years ago, Tenya still cringes thinking about how loudly Hatsume had propositioned him, right after he had walked out of the bathroom, no less. To make things worse, he’d been so surprised he could only stammer out an uneven yes? that sounded like its own question. The date had gone horribly; he’s avoided calling IT for anything ever since.

“I didn’t mean personal stuff,” says Kaminari. “When it comes to business stuff, I hear what people are talking about. And Iida might be the new Quality Manager.”

Hearing the title again makes Tenya’s stomach flip, but he can’t stop from smiling when you grab his arm and squeal, “Really? That’s so exciting!” It’s stupid, but he thinks it’s really cute how energetic you are.

“Nice.” Shouto puts down his phone and taps his fist against Tenya’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Thank you both, but I don’t have the job yet.” Tenya fidgets with his silverware, aligning the fork and knife with his napkin and then his plate. There’s something he’s been wondering all afternoon. “Sasaki made it sound like they were considering others too. Kaminari, you wouldn’t happen to know…”

“Oh, I know. Or at least, I know of one. I was dropping off some mail and heard Sasaki talking to Monoma in his office. Frankly I don’t even think he’s trying to keep any of this a secret because the door was wide open.”

Tenya rolls his eyes. Of course he’s up against Monoma—that brown-noser.

“He hasn’t said anything to me. Guess that means I’m not in the running,” Shouto hums.

The color rushes out of Kaminari’s face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Todoroki. I didn’t mean to—”

Shouto stops him and shrugs. “It’s fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t want all that responsibility anyway. I have enough to worry about.” Tenya could honestly say the same thing, but before he can comment, you touch his arm again and his mouth dries up.

“Don’t worry. Even though I honestly have no idea what you actually do all day, I know you work harder than just about everyone. No offense, Todoroki.”

Shouto’s absorbed in his phone again. “None taken. I work smarter, not harder.”

“Yeah Iida, lighten up!” Tenya can tell by his big, goofy grin that Kaminari doesn’t mean anything by it. He has no way of knowing how Tenya’s been trapped in his head recently, even before this promotion was thrown into the mix. Even if he’s always been a little high-strung, Tenya knows himself, and if he could relax, even a little bit, he would have done it a long time ago.

—

After waking up to more than a dozen missed texts from various times over the night, Tenya invites Midoriya to come to the gym with him before work. “We’ll get coffee after, my treat,” he tempts over the phone, and reluctantly, Midoriya agrees.

Tenya swings by Midoriya’s tailor shop to pick him up—apparently, he hadn’t gone home last night. His friend is mostly quiet on the way to the gym, heaving restless sighs out the window every few minutes. Frankly, he looks like a wreck, and he clearly hasn’t slept all night. If nothing else, Tenya hopes that a workout will tire Midoriya out enough that he can at least get a little rest.

They part ways after Tenya checks them in at the front desk. Midoriya heads for the lifting machines while Tenya goes up to the second floor to run on the indoor track. Earbuds in, he starts with some stretching, then sets off on a warm-up lap before picking up his speed. He’s groggy this morning, and three miles later, Tenya still doesn’t feel any more awake. He switches to the rowing machine for the last twenty minutes before he needs to get in the shower, but even when he’s pouring sweat, he never gets that rush of endorphins he’s looking for. He just feels tired.

After a brisk shower, Tenya towel dries his hair as best he can and gets changed into his work clothes. Midoriya is waiting on a bench near the entrance, and they walk to the cafe a few doors down where Tenya buys coffee, as promised, and croissants, as a bonus. But when it comes to comforting his friend, Tenya has no idea what to say.

It’s not at all that he doesn’t care. While Midoriya slowly opens up, lamenting his feelings for Uraraka and his regrets about not confessing to her sooner, Tenya listens and empathizes as best he can. It’s clear from his tearfulness that Midoriya needs to get his feelings off his chest, but Tenya can’t come up with any legitimate condolences beyond, “I see,” and, “I’m sorry.”

“I really love her, I’m sure of it,” says Midoriya. “But maybe deep down, the reason I waited so long was because I could tell she didn’t feel the same. I’ve just been putting off the inevitable.” With a sigh, he slowly seems to come to grips with his situation—that it’s been a long time coming. Tenya is glad he could help, but at the same time, seeing his best friend like this confirms that he’s doing the right thing by staying single right now.

Dating someone—even pining after someone—is too stressful for the state of mind he’s been stuck in. There’s too much to worry about when someone else is thrown in the mix. He can barely deal with himself right now. He doesn’t envy Shouto either—he’s in a long-term, committed relationship, and he’s still stressed out by it. So that settles it. Tenya will get out of this slump he’s in by going on the same way he has for the past two years: on his own.

–

The work day is a long one. Because of Toshinori’s absence at the end of the week, Tenya steps up to take some work off of Sasaki’s plate, including fixing some reports littered with egregious mistakes that are painstaking to find and correct. It’s a great chance to show off his work ethic in light of the promotion, but that doesn’t make it any less taxing on his already frazzled mind. By 4:30, he’s running on fumes, but then you arrive at his desk.

“Hey, Iida. Do you have plans tonight?” There’s a glint in your eye—this is more than small talk.

Tenya hesitates, but answers, “Not really. Why?” Maybe you just need a ride home, he thinks. Or maybe you want him to take a look at some marketing materials you’re working on. It’s happened before. He hopes it’s the former, but he’s wrong on both counts.

You rock back and forth on your feet, hands clasped casually behind your back. “Oh good. Then you can come to happy hour with us.”

Tenya adjusts his glasses, as if that would help ensure he heard you correctly. “On a Tuesday?” He draws the words out slowly before realizing that he sounds incredibly judgmental. “I don’t usually drink during the week,” he clarifies.

That makes you smile. “Somehow, I thought you might say that.”

You stroll into his cubicle and lean on his desk. It’s the same way you were bent over the reception desk the day before, hips pushed back and elbows tucked into your sides. He’s sitting beside you, but he can imagine the way your skirt is riding up your legs. He wonders if you do this on purpose, if you want people to look, or if it’s completely subconscious. He clears his throat, ashamed of himself for thinking of you that way. It’s not only rude, but completely inappropriate for a coworker.

“We can tell you’re stressed about the promotion. Just come with us to the bar and put it out of your mind for a bit.” Tenya can hear the fibers of your pantyhose humming as you rub one leg against the other. It’s a sound he’s never registered before—well, not when it wasn’t his own rough hands dragging against someone else’s lace-covered thigh.

Tenya takes a sip from his water bottle to clear his husky throat before he replies. “Who is ‘we’?”

Fortunately, you stand up straight again, and he can get his head back on straight. “Me, Denki, Jirou, Shinsou. Todoroki says he’s gonna pick Sero up on the way. A few others might stop by for a while.”

Tenya rubs his temples. Though it’s not usually in his nature, he can’t deny that a drink sounds good after the day he’s had. And what could one or two Long Island iced teas hurt?

“All right. I’ll join you for a little while. I probably won’t stay too late though.” He means it when he says it. But after seeing you smile back at him, after splitting a cab and squeezing into a corner booth at the bar, after seeing Denki flirt with both Jirou and Shinsou, after watching Shouto kiss his fiance over and over again, after another cocktail, and another, and another—suddenly it’s eleven PM and Tenya doesn’t want to go home if he’s going to be all alone.

So because he can’t stand to watch the couples anymore, he turns his attention to you. You’ve taken off the little cap-sleeve jacket you were wearing at the office, baring your shoulders along with a neckline that’s just a little too low to be work-appropriate in the first place. When you lean forward over the table to take a sip from your straw or laugh at some ridiculous joke Denki made, your breasts are pushed up and together—a sight that makes Tenya’s mouth water. Your face warms with every half-price drink you order, your hair falling out of place, your smile a little looser as the night wears on.

He’s thought about you before. Of course he has. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re quick, witty, and unbelievably kind to others. Tenya rarely hears you talk about yourself. You always seem more interested in everybody else’s ideas, their successes, even their struggles. He’s fairly certain it was all your idea to get a group together to go out tonight—probably entirely for his own benefit. But surely you’d do the same for anybody.

So what’s he thinking? While everyone else is talking and laughing and having a good time, why is he bothering to stare at you like he’s going to do anything about it? He’s known for months, maybe even years, that he doesn’t want to get involved with anybody. But fuck, what he really wants right now is a dark corner and a warm body. And if it should be anybody, his buzzed brain reasons, why not you—someone he actually likes?

No, he corrects himself. Dating is messy. Casual sex is messier. He doesn’t want that, and he needs to remember it. If he’s so damn horny, he can take care of himself after he gets a ride home, and that’s the end of it.

Minutes pass in a haze as he finishes another drink. Shouto bumps his shoulder every time he moves to put his arm around Hanta before he’s peeled away again, so Tenya stands up. He rolls his shoulders, the vinyl booth doing nothing to support his back that’s still a little sore from the rowing machine. He cracks his neck to one side and then the other, and when he looks up again, he finds you with your eyes locked on him.

Blinking hard, Tenya watches as you literally climb up onto your seat and then over the goddamn table to get to him while the others scream and laugh. He reaches a hand out as your ankle wobbles in your high heel, catching you when you stumble into his chest on your way back down to the floor. You laugh, and it makes him laugh.

“You wanna go help me get a round of shots?” you ask, words not exactly slurring but definitely starting to meld. He agrees, and through no will of his own, his palm creeps to your lower back as he follows you toward the bar.

You turn a corner, putting a wall between the two of you and your friends at the table. Tenya actually runs into you, but it’s because you stop walking to spin into him, bracing yourself on his chest and shoulders again. “I saw you looking at me,” you admit point-blank.

“I’m sorry.” The thought doesn’t occur to him to deny it. The way you’re leaning your weight into him presses your chest against him, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard pretty quickly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Means I’ve been looking at you too.” Your hands climb his tie up to his throat. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Heat rushes over him, and he takes you by the waist, pulling you closer. “I want to do far more than just kiss you right now.” He’s hardly gotten the words out before you wrap your arms around his neck and capture his lips with your own.

He should stop you, the rational part of Tenya thinks, as he kisses you back. But he doesn’t want to stop. Kissing you lights up parts of his brain that have gone dark for months, maybe longer. Sweet dopamine bursts through the walls he’s built up inside, rushing to his head the same way a runner’s high used to. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t help but want more.

His hands search for the perfect spot to hold you, sliding over your hips to cup your ass and press you tight against him. You push forward until he staggers, his back hitting the wall. You kiss until you’re breathless, stealing the air from his lungs, and then you insist, “Take me in the bathroom.”

He may not have dated in a while, but Tenya’s not a fool. He knows what moving to a secondary location means. Any of your coworkers could walk around the corner and catch you in the act right now. If you want to go further, you should find some privacy. With all the adrenaline driving him right now, he’s not going to deny you.

Tenya breaks from your lips to wrap his arm around your back. Ignoring a dirty look from the bartender, who must realize what’s about to happen, he leads you quickly down the hallway where the bathrooms are. He doesn’t even pay attention to which one he follows you into. As soon as the door is locked behind you, he pins you against it.

One hand holds your shoulder while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you again. Your lips are warm as you let his tongue slide past them, so soft but so firm. Tenya hasn’t kissed anyone in years, but he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

“Mmm, Tenya.” You hum into his mouth as your hand slides down his thigh, straying to his bulging crotch with a shiver. Your hands are so much smaller than his, but they feel so much better than his own ever could as you rub against his erection. You sigh as he kisses you harder, deeper. Do you even realize how wild you’re making him? How hard?

Tenya releases his grip to fumble with his belt. “Do you want to—”

“Yeah, I want you.” You don’t even let him finish, don’t even give him a second to get his zipper down before you do it yourself. Your fingers are shaking, but you moan in pleasure when your fingers dip under his waistband and pull out his cock. His breath hitches on a groan—everything is moving so quickly, but he doesn’t want it to end. You don’t waste any time—you just spit in your hand and spread it down his shaft with tight, even strokes.

Something inside Tenya snaps. He forgot he could feel this good, completely forgot how satisfying sex can be when he really, really wants it—when he has someone to lose himself in. Fuck his conscience, and fuck his fears about getting in over his head. He lets his hips buck into your hold as his carnality takes over.

“Fuck,” he moans low, letting his forehead fall against the wall behind you.

You laugh coyly. “Feel good?”

“Yes, God, yes.” This time, Tenya takes your face in both hands, stealing ravenous kisses as you wring the head of his cock in your fist. When he can’t wait any longer, he turns your head to the side and sucks a mark into the crook of your neck.

“You want me?” he asks again.

“Please.”

“I love the way you beg,” he growls. “Take your panties off.”

You do as you’re told, body shivering with delight as you peel a pair of light purple underwear down your legs before shoving them in his left pants pocket.

“You’re dirty,” he taunts.

“So are you,” you mewl, eyes traveling down to where he wraps his own hand around his cock, spreading precum over the head with his thumb.

“I think you like it.”

With his clean hand, Tenya hikes your tight little skirt up. With the wet one, he reaches between your legs as you spread them. You lean back against the wall to push your hips out, gasping when he grazes your clit before scissoring through your folds. He spends a few blissful minutes fingering you, swirling around your hole and then dipping inside with two fingers to make sure you’re slick enough to take him. He waits until you’re moaning brazenly, fingers scraping against the tile wall behind you, before he pulls them back out.

You collapse into him as he bends to grab under your thighs, lifts you, and wedges you between himself and the wall. His back and triceps are sore, but it’s nothing he can’t handle, especially not when you’re panting into his neck and begging, “Please, fuck me, fuck me, Tenya.”

He frees one hand to help line himself up, and it’s not the most graceful thing he’s ever done, but when you clench and whine as he pops the head of his cock inside you, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. How could he forget how good this feels? How could he have denied himself for so long when your dripping pussy squeezing around him makes him forget everything but you?

Even with how slick you are, it takes him a few thrusts to bottom out while you claw at his back, whimpering. Clinging to him, you grind your hips down and clench.

Tenya swears, thrusting his hips for more friction. He fucks you like an animal, head empty except for how tight and hot you are inside and how badly he wants to cum. He’s sweating like mad, hair sticking to his forehead and his glasses fogging up, but he continues to chase after his peak, using you like he would a toy while you moan in his ear.

“Tenya, please.” You start to unwrap one arm from his neck, but when your weight shifts against the wall, you put it back.

“I got you,” he promises.

He holds you tight against the wall as you reach down to play with your clit. You clench harder around him until you cry out, and he grinds against the pulsing of your orgasm until it pulls him over the edge with you.

As he comes down, the tension in his screaming muscles releases. He leans into you, pinning your weight to the cool, tile wall. Spend leaks down your ass and thighs, wetting the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care. Tenya hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

In a haze, Tenya helps you down to your feet. He tries to help you clean up at the sink, but he’s not sure he really does anything helpful. All he knows is that every few minutes, he hears you sigh and giggle. When you’re both tucked back into your clothes, you each order your own cab, and you sneak out the back door to meet them. He makes sure you’re in your car safely before he gets into his.

When he falls into bed, Tenya has the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in months.

–

When Tenya wakes up, his mouth is dry, his head is throbbing, and he can’t remember when or how he got home. He’s still fully dressed, down to his glasses and even his shoes, which is disgusting. He’ll have to wash the sheets as soon as he gets home tonight.

As his consciousness fades in alongside his pounding headache, Tenya tosses his glasses on the nightstand and rubs his palms over his face. He drank way too much last night, obviously. There’s no way his aching body can go for a run this morning—it’ll be challenging enough just to get himself to work. He sits up in bed, cracks his back, then feels something bunched in his pocket.

When he pulls out your lavender panties, he flops back down onto his pillow like he’s been shot dead.

Everything that happened rushes back to him at once—you climbing over the table, him pinning you against the wall. Between short waves of nausea, Tenya berates himself. That was a stupid, stupid thing to do, and he knows he’s going to pay for it.

Tenya has been in relationships, however short they might have been. He knows, generally, how to navigate those. He’s also had one night stands before. He can handle those too, always with grace and respect. What makes this time different is the fact that he hadn’t planned to sleep with you, had never partaken in sex so casually. Every time before, whether he was in a relationship or not, he had known sex was on the table, so to speak.

This is entirely new territory, and it rattles him.

To make matters worse, every time he pictures the way you looked or remembers a sound that you made, heat rises in his chest. You’d felt amazing, made him feel amazing, and now he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget it.

Tenya drags himself out of bed, groaning unintentionally at the tightness in his quads and lower back, and chugs two glasses of water while frying himself some eggs and potatoes. He knows if he doesn’t get some food in him, he’ll never make it through the day at work, and he doesn’t want to look bad in front of Sasaki, especially not now.

He surely hasn’t been himself lately, he thinks, dousing his eggs in hot sauce, but Tenya never thought he could do something so foolish. You’d both been consenting but under the influence, so where does that leave you? Fuck, he hadn’t even used a condom.

You hadn’t asked him to, and with how long it’s been since he slept with anyone else, he’s not at risk of giving you any diseases, but that doesn’t make it ok. As much as he dreads having to ask if you’re clean, he should probably also find out if you’re on some kind of birth control. He can feel the acid in his stomach burning just thinking about it, but he needs to face the consequences of his actions. Whatever you want to do about it, he’s fine with that.

When he finds his phone buried in his bedsheets, there’s a text from you.

If you want to talk about last night, you know where to find me. But I'm ok, and if you want to pretend it never happened, I understand.

He sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket. It’s selfless of you to offer to do that, but although it would probably be the easier way out, Tenya wouldn’t do that to you. Having sex with you hadn’t meant nothing—you didn’t mean nothing to him. He needs to face you and come clean. You deserve that.

Since his car is still at the office, Tenya has to call another cab to take him to work. After the commute that reignites his headache, Tenya gulps down a bottle of water from the vending machine and pulls himself together. All he wants is to sit down, but there’s only one way to his cubicle, and it’s past the front desk.

Kaminari’s chin is perched in his hands, a crooked smirk on his face. “Hey buddy, where’d you go last night?”

That’s right. The two of you left without saying goodbye or settling your tabs. He’ll have to go back to the bar to get his credit card. Somehow, after all the water he’s had this morning, Tenya’s mouth is still dry when he opens it to speak. He croaks, “I’m sorry, I was not in my right mind last night. I called a taxi without even thinking.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

You and Kaminari are close, but Tenya has no clue if this is something you would tell him. Apparently not, though, because he replies, “Did you go home with that bartender? I swear she had her eyes on you all night.” Unless Kaminari has a remarkable poker face, he doesn’t know anything.

Tenya starts to shake his head, but that hurts his eyes, so he just lifts a hand. “Nothing like that. Just wanted to get home and rest.”

Kaminari cackles. Maybe he’s one of those people that doesn’t get hangovers. Lucky. “All right, whatever you say, big guy. Hey, Todoroki has your watch. You took it off at the table for some reason.”

So he’ll have to make sure to catch up with Shouto at some point today and get it back. Thankfully, Shouto isn’t the type to ask questions, and he was preoccupied all night anyway.

For most of the day, Tenya stays holed up at his desk. After a few cups of coffee and a lunch he ordered in (Kaminari is kind enough to bring it to his cubicle for him), Tenya’s hangover starts to fade, but he can’t shake the anxious feeling sitting in his gut all day. Shouto drops by with his watch but doesn’t stick around to chat, which is perfectly fine. Tenya doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he doesn’t want to chance running into you before he’s prepared himself, so he keeps to his spreadsheets and tries to make up for his slow morning.

Any time he gives himself a minute to think, Tenya’s mind wanders back to that dimly-lit restroom. He can’t help but wonder how something that felt so good in the moment can feel so horrible in hindsight. Not only is he ashamed, but he’s also embarrassed. He can only hope he hasn’t ruined his rapport—his friendship—with you.

Around 4:30, Tenya realizes he has about 50 unread IMs. He leaves his notification sounds off because he’s been told that they annoy people, so he hadn’t noticed all the messages coming in while he worked. Worried that something has gone terribly wrong, he opens his inbox in a panic.

What he finds is a barrage of images uploaded to a group chat by Kaminari, who declares that it is officially “meme-o’clock.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been bored enough to enact such an activity, and Tenya’s sure it won’t be the last.

While Kaminari has posted most of the memes, Shouto and Jirou have also contributed several deep-fried jpegs of their own. Shinsou chimes in with a single cat picture, but you’re noticeably absent until Tenya hovers over the emoji reactions. You’ve left several cry-laughing faces under the images, but they ring hollow. Normally, you’d be sending pictures to the chat too. Tenya starts to wonder if you’re really ok, like you’d said in your text.

Worry replacing awkwardness, Tenya picks up his phone and finally texts you back.

Do you want to meet me in the parking garage after work? I need to go back to the bar and get my card.

A few minutes later, you respond.

Sure, I need to do that too. Thanks, Iida.

After gathering up his stuff, Tenya finds you waiting by his car—leaning against it, legs crossed demurely at the ankles. You’re wearing a knee-length dress with a frilly collar that he would find adorable if he wasn’t so damn nervous. When you hear him coming toward you, you smile, and for some reason, that breaks his heart.

“Hey.”

Tenya takes a deep breath. “Hey. Do you still want to ride with me?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes a bit. “‘Course. That’s why I’m here.”

Tenya unlocks the car and ushers you into the passenger’s seat, waiting to close the door for you before walking around to climb in. He rolls his neck a little, feeling tension building between his shoulders, as he pulls out of the parking garage and heads toward the bar.

He doesn’t bother to connect his phone to Bluetooth or turn on the radio. It’s already too loud and chaotic inside his head, even though he can’t get himself to say anything. But then he hears you humming a little tune to yourself, and his stomach turns. He can’t put you through this any longer.

Tenya clears his throat. “Can we—” he hesitates, “talk about last night?”

You stop humming, folding your hands in your lap. “Yeah, of course. And, listen, I’m sorry if—”

“Please, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Tenya is careful to keep his eyes on the road, even as you’re nearing the city parking lot near the bar. Politely, even after he cut you off, you give him the space to speak.

“It’s no excuse, but I think you can tell I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been stressed, and I was drunk, and I took advantage of you. I’m incredibly sorry.”

You practically dive over the center console to touch his arm, an action that shouldn’t make the back of Tenya’s neck prickle, but it does. “No, no. I promise you didn’t take advantage of me. If I had wanted to leave, I would have left.”

Tenya clears his throat, your sincerity and the warmth of your touch surprising him before, strangely, he feels some of his anxiety begin to melt away. “Ok. If you say so.” He doesn’t think about it, but while he waits to make a left turn into the parking lot, his hand floats up to brush over yours until he finds a parking spot to pull into.

He shuts off the car, but Tenya knows this isn’t over with yet. “I still need to apologize for not using protection. Do you need—”

“Oh, no. I’m on birth control, so I’m not really worried about that.”

Relieved, Tenya exhales harder than he means to.

Your nervous laugh puts him a little more at ease. “Thanks for asking, though. I also got myself tested after my last partner, so I’m clean and everything…”

Tenya can feel his face burning, but he reminds himself that it’s healthy and mature to talk to his partners about such things. Still, he rubs his eyes under his glasses, exhausted by all his worries. “Thank you. I am as well, though it’s been a long time since my last partner.”

“...Really?”

“I—yes?” He didn’t expect you to ask questions. Then you ask another.

“How long?”

Tenya hasn’t really thought about the actual number recently. He counts backwards, and it surprises him. “Two years, maybe two and a half?” He can’t remember exactly what month it was, but he’s pretty sure it was wintertime.

You fall back in your seat with a little snort. Tenya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

There’s that laugh of yours again. “Well, no wonder you’re so stressed.”

“It’s not…I’m just—” Tenya huffs, unable to complete a coherent thought. He hadn’t looked at it this way, but now that you bring it up, his fist has been a sorry comparison to another person for some time now. He’s just been willing to accept that.

Coyly, you bite your lip. “Can I ask…did you enjoy it, at least?”

“God, yes.” Tenya chuckles along with you at his own bluntness, running his hand through his hair as he looks out the windshield.

“Ok, good. Because I did too. You were so hot, Iida.”

Memories of the sights, the sounds, the sensations of your hookup come back to him in flashes, so vivid he can’t look at you. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t typically have one-night stands, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Tenya’s heart halts, bracing for an impact that never comes, like when he thinks there’s one more step on the staircase. He expects you to be upset—sad, or angry, even—but your voice is soft instead.

“Well, listen. It’s ok if it’s not your thing. But since we both liked it, we could do it again sometime. Casually, I mean. No strings attached.”

Oh.

“So, you mean like friends with benefits?” This was an option Tenya had never even considered. Historically, casual sex is not his thing, but maybe you’re onto something.

“Yeah. Just sex. Because—and I swear—last night was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had. Like, probably top three fucks ever.”

That makes Tenya laugh out loud. It’s not that he thought he was bad at sex, quite the opposite actually. But he wouldn’t have said it that way, and coming from you…

“I’m serious, Iida,” you say after a giggle. “It was great. And I trust you. So if you want to keep having sex, especially if it helps you manage all that stress you’re under, I’m down.”

“I—”

He’s tempted to say no, to go back to just being friends and coworkers, but when he opens his mouth again, he finds he doesn’t want to. It’s one of the crazier things he’s ever done, but…

“I trust you too. But maybe we can start on some kind of trial basis. This is very new to me.”

You smile and knock him on the shoulder like this is the most normal conversation in the world. Maybe it is.

“How about this: the next time you want to let off some steam, just let me know.”

Tenya nods, then realizes he’s been wearing his seatbelt this entire time. He clicks the release button as he pulls his keys from the ignition. He can do this—he can handle casual. Maybe he’ll even be better off for it.

“Deal.”

–

Despite your new arrangement, almost a week passes without incident. Tenya continues helping Sasaki with his audits. Together, they discover a particular issue with the resistance bands that their plant has been manufacturing. Tenya spends a full day poring over the data until he comes up with better testing standards to help ensure that faulty merchandise isn’t shipped out to customers. It’s what he would have done regardless, even if the promotion weren’t on the table.

When Toshinori returns from his trip, looking more bronzed and sporting a splint on a broken index finger, Sasaki calls a meeting to go over Tenya’s proposal. A small group meets in the conference room—along with a few others from quality, there are reps from customer service who have been handling most of the complaints, and Monoma, the sales rep.

For a few months of the year, Monoma is largely out of the office, traveling to trade shows and visiting customers and distributors nationwide to tout the wonders of Plus Ultra equipment. And it’s not that he’s not good at his job—he brings in a lot of clients with a lot of money to spend. But for the rest of the year, Monoma spends his time, as far as Tenya can tell, making a couple phone calls per day before slacking off while everyone else is hard at work.

Maybe he’s biased, but Tenya has never liked sales reps.

Seated around the conference table, Sasaki starts them off by explaining the manufacturing issues they ran into. The customer service lead, Kendo, explains how the complaints came in and what her team did to placate the upset customers.

Toshinori gives Kendo a big thumbs up. “Thanks for all the hard work. It really matters that we keep our customers happy, even when things like this happen.” He’s not really a detail-oriented guy—he just likes to know what’s going on.

“Of course,” Monoma pipes up, “after customer service brought this issue to our attention, we took all of the customer information and used it to pinpoint the lot number of the defective batch of bands.”

Tenya sighs from behind his laptop. Everything Monoma is saying is correct, factually. But the way he’s using ‘we’ makes it sound like he played a bigger role in that process when all he did was email Tenya a list of customer info. It was Tenya and Sasaki who dug through the data, found the lot number, and got the rest of the defective product pulled from the warehouse before it got shipped out.

With a hand placed thoughtfully on his strong chin, Toshinori listens as Monoma talks, and talks, and talks—name dropping the bigger clients that he called personally to explain the situation. With as much patience as he can muster, Tenya waits for his turn to speak with his proposal slideshow open.

“Of course, while I was hunting all these guys down—you know how they are, they’re hardly ever in the office, a little like you, Mr. Yagi—”

“Please, I insist you call me Toshinori.”

“Right, Toshinori,” Monoma shmoozes. “Well, meanwhile, we can assure you we have a plan to keep this from happening again.” He glances over at Sasaki, who is tapping away on his keyboard, no doubt still paying attention to every word like the expert multitasker he is.

Tenya opens his mouth to speak, but Monoma’s lips don’t stop moving. “We think something like this can be caught by testing the next time it happens if we tighten up tolerances a bit. For example…”

He goes on to explain, in a roundabout way, everything in Tenya’s proposal without so much as a pause for Tenya to get a word in edgewise.

Tenya knows this meeting isn’t about him, that they’re just here to catch Toshinori up to speed and get his final stamp of approval. But especially when he’s getting some of the details only partially correct, it’s frustrating to sit there and listen to Monoma speak just because he loves the sound of his own voice.

And while Tenya is sure that Monoma is just trying to show off in front of Toshinori because of the promotion, he also doesn’t want to butt in for the same reason. At this point, it’ll just make Tenya look like he’s trying to spotlight himself. He’ll just have to keep his mouth shut, knowing that Sasaki is aware that the proposal was really all Tenya’s idea.

Sasaki, Tenya thinks almost bitterly, who is just sitting there, letting Monoma talk over him.

It’s fine, Tenya tells himself. It’s fine, and it doesn’t really matter. And he could have maybe left the meeting believing that if Monoma didn’t look him directly in the face when he asks, “Any questions?”

That bastard. That bitch. He wouldn’t normally be so vulgar, even inside his own head, but fuck, this time he’s really pissed. For as long as he’s worked here, Monoma has always been like this—stepping on toes just because he can, and unbelievably smug about it. And Tenya is officially getting sick of it.

Tenya glares back. “No,” he replies in a calculated tone. “No, I don’t think I have anything to add right now.”

If Sasaki notices his ire, he doesn’t do anything about it. Toshinori, on the other hand, appears blissfully unaware, just happy that the problem was solved even in his absence.

When the meeting ends, Tenya is the first one out of the room, his laptop folded closed under his arm. Vaguely, he hears Monoma calling for him, asking if he wants to join everyone for lunch, but he doesn’t stop until he gets to his cubicle. Nobody follows him.

For a while, Tenya just sits there, seething. He gets his lunch out of his mini-fridge, but he’s too annoyed to eat much of it. Instead, he stares daggers down into his salad, stabbing each bite he takes a little too forcefully. He tries to let it go, to forget what just happened because regardless, this should fix the manufacturing problem. That’s what matters. But Monoma’s words keep replaying on an infuriating loop in his head.

So screw that. He wants to go home. No, actually—he wants his blood pumping and his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his back until his mind finally shuts off and the frustration melts away. But he wasn’t planning on going to the gym tonight, so he doesn’t have clothes to change into for a run right now.

Tenya huffs and drops his fork on his desk. He remembers what you said in the car—to let you know the next time he’s stressed out. So he shuts his laptop and shoves his half-eaten salad back in the fridge.

Heads turn when Tenya strides into the marketing department. He doesn’t spend much time in this part of the office. Your work doesn’t overlap with his often. But he doesn’t want to leave any kind of paper trail, so instead of sending you a message, he walks straight up to your desk.

You’re flipping through files in a folder before you look up to greet him. “Hey, Iida.”

After glancing over his shoulder, he drops a heavy hand on your desk and leans down to speak into your ear, his jaw set tight. “My car. Now.”

You spin in your swivel chair to face him, eyes narrowing when you meet his gaze. Tenya raises an eyebrow, asking if you understand. Slowly, you uncross your legs, and it takes all the restraint he has not to bite a hole through his lower lip.

“Go first. I’ll meet you.”

He nods, then makes a beeline for the parking garage.

His mind races. Is this how he was supposed to go about it? For about half a minute, while he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to appear, he almost loses his nerve and calls the whole thing off. But goddamnit, he’s pissed, and he wants to forget, just for a few minutes until he can relax. And you look so good today, so soft to the touch in your flowy little blouse.

Now’s not the time to overthink it. He said he wanted a trial run, and here’s his chance.

You arrive with your purse thrown over your shoulder, heels clacking on the concrete floor until you slide into the seat next to him. Once your bag is placed by your feet, you ask, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tenya loosens his tie. “Not really.”

“That’s ok. We can just have fun, then.”

You kick your shoes off and push the center armrest back. Tenya plants his feet on the floor, and you crawl into his lap, letting your skirt ride high up on your legs. Impatiently, craving the piece of heaven he found the last time he was with you, Tenya wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him for a kiss.

As your mouths move together, Tenya is keenly aware that you’re still, for all intents and purposes, in public. His parking spot is along the outside wall of the parking garage, one level up from the walkway that leads inside the business complex, which should minimize the amount of foot traffic that might pass. Still, the possibility that someone could walk by isn’t exactly remote. But like at the bar, Tenya is surprised to find that he’s not completely opposed to the idea—to the thrilling fantasy that you could be caught.

At least you’re not still inside the office, he rationalizes. How much real trouble could you actually get into? Office relationships aren’t forbidden. And there are worse ways to spend your lunch break—hacking accounts, stealing tape from the supply closet. Fooling around in the car isn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it actually decreases the likelihood of him personally strangling Monoma. From a certain point of view, this is actually the safer choice.

Tenya forgets all his justifications the moment you bury your hand in his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp before you pull at the longer part of his undercut. It forces him to tilt his chin up as you push deeper into the kiss. And when your mouth breaks from his and drags down to his jaw, teasing against his ear, he forgets everything except for you.

Your kisses are light against the side of his throat, careful as though not to leave a mark. They’re slow and wet, your tongue peeking out to taste him with each kiss. When you take his earlobe between your teeth, he can’t help but moan, fingers curling into your waist.

“Fuck, you sound so hot when you do that.” Your lower back arches, your knee knocking against the door as you spread yourself lower, wider over his lap. It drives him crazy, the way you move so easily with him, your body slotting into all the places he needs you most.

Tenya wants to rip your blouse open, but he restrains himself, knowing you’ll still need to wear it back inside. He fumbles with the first few buttons, trying to get it off you, before you realize he needs help. Together, you undo them all, revealing the lacy white bra you’re wearing underneath.

With all his caution thrown to the wind, Tenya palms one of your breasts, pressing it up against his mouth as he kisses your cleavage. You hum for him, reaching behind you to brace yourself against his knee with your other arm slung over his shoulder.

Your breasts feel amazing. He didn’t really get to play with them last time—he was too busy holding you up against the wall. Now, he can knead them with both hands, lifting them up and pressing his thumbs between them until they pop out of the cups of your bra.

Your gasp is delectable when he takes one nipple into his mouth, groaning as he sucks around it. He opens his mouth wider, desperate to take more, tongue lapping at the bud. He can’t get enough.

Meanwhile, he tenderly squeezes your other breast, obsessed with the way it squishes like he’s pressing into soft dough. He looks up at you over his glasses, watching your brows knit together as he drinks you in. Then he does the same to your other breast, giving them equal attention.

Tenya can feel your pulse quickening through your sternum, syllables of his name falling from your lips along with panting breaths. You sound so good, he loves hearing you. “Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, unbuttoning his vest and then starting on his dress shirt.

Your hand drifts down to touch his exposed chest.

“You, I want you.” Your hips grind down against his straining erection as you whine for him.

Tenya sucks air through his teeth, grabbing for his wallet in the cupholder and pulling out the condom he’s had tucked inside for a few days. He holds the corner of the packet between his teeth while he pulls his cock out of the dark blue slacks he pushes down to his knees. You moan when you see it, giving him a flash of pride before you take the condom and roll it on for him.

“You’re so big.” He’s known that for a long time—that his size is impressive to most—but he loves hearing it, the way it tumbles from your lips like you can’t believe it’s all for you.

He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before pushing your panties to the side and rubbing them over your cunt. Your head falls back, breasts bouncing while he plays with your hole, spreading spit and slick around it.

With both hands on his shoulders, you position yourself above him. “Fuck, fuck me.”

If you keep begging like that, he’s going to lose his damn mind.

Tenya holds his cock steady at the base while you sink down onto him with a gorgeous whine. He watches himself enter you, watches as you take his thick cock like you’re made for it. The ridge of the condom catches the slick that leaks out of you, leaving a creamy ring behind when you start to bounce up and down on your knees.

Tenya guides you, lifting his hips when he can to thrust with you. It feels too good—suddenly, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“God, so tight. Oh my god.” You clench when he calls your name, his voice strangled like your hand’s around his throat. Huffing and moaning, he holds you up while you ride him with impressive stamina.

Sweat beads on your forehead and your chest, collecting in the notch of your throat. You’re persistent, your movements actually speeding up while your walls cling to his cock with every thrust. You’re like an animal, blindly chasing your own pleasure while still giving him so much.

He can tell when you finish by the way you gasp and squeal, writhing like you’re trying to stay sunk down on top of him while you pulse. Watching your body tremor pulls Tenya over the edge with you, his hips lifting as he climaxes before falling back onto the headrest. You fold over against his chest, just trying to catch your breath as you come down.

The driver’s side window is foggy, your naked upper body slippery against him. He’s still inside you, your face buried in his neck. You rest the weight of your tired body against him fully, even as he sits up to start up the air conditioning so you can both cool down. Once the sheen of sweat between you is mostly dry, Tenya reclines his seat all the way back and helps you climb out of his lap.

Last time, all you needed to do was get yourselves together enough to sneak out of the bar and get home. Now, Tenya realizes, he has to walk back into the office as if he didn’t just fuck you in his car. Granted, the condom was a good idea—it takes care of a large percentage of the mess you made, but he’s still sweaty and disheveled after disposing of it wrapped in a wad of napkins from the glove compartment.

You give each other a good once-over outside the car, making sure all buttons are done up right and everything’s tucked back where it’s supposed to be. He lets you fix his hair for him, shaking out his bangs with your fingers before fixing them back in place across his forehead. He intends to walk you back inside, but you stop him just outside the glass walkway with a glance over your shoulder.

“Give me a little head start,” you tease. Your giggle is equal parts adorable and sensual as you strut away.

Tenya stares after you, your legs, your tight skirt, until you disappear through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

He can give you a head start. He’d give you just about anything you want at this point.

–

From that day on, hooking up with you becomes more and more frequent. Tenya tries not to wear out his welcome too quickly, but the more he has sex with you, the more he craves it. Once per week quickly becomes three or four times, sometimes in the car, sometimes in whatever empty room or closet you can find when the opportunity arises. You let him do so many different things to you, content to let him take the lead and call the shots.

It’s almost Pavlovian, the way he finds himself set on the path from his desk to yours after a stressful meeting or phone call—even just too many hours looking at spreadsheets can make him itch for you.

As much as he loves your legs wrapped around his waist while he plunges inside you, Tenya learns he has much more of an oral fixation than he ever realized. When he’s frustrated, he needs his mouth on you. He’ll eat you out or suck at your breasts while you bounce in his lap, and before he knows it, he’s forgotten whatever it was that was causing so much tension in the first place, soothed by the weight of you on his tongue.

There aren’t many rules in your arrangement, but after the third or fourth time you turn down Tenya’s offers to cook you dinner, you set an important one.

“I really appreciate the thought, but in the interest of keeping this casual, let’s not hook up at your house or mine.”

“It’s just dinner,” Tenya reasons. “I would never expect you to sleep with me in return. We wouldn’t have to.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know myself, and it would be hard for me to be in your house with you, alone at night, and not want to have sex with you.”

“I…” Tenya rubs at the back of his undercut. He should probably get it trimmed soon. “I’m not pressuring you, but why—”

“Because if I start waking up in your bed, it’s only a matter of time before one of us catches feelings. And you said you didn’t want that, right?”

Tenya hesitates for half a beat, but, “Yes, you’re right.”

“So no sleepovers. But thank you again for offering, Tenya.”

“Of course.”

The other rules remain largely unspoken. You always wait for him to initiate, and at first, this concerned him. If you weren’t interested in doing this—if you’d changed your mind—he needed to know, and he told you as much. He’d been surprised at the heat that pooled in his stomach when you laughed and replied, sincerely, that you liked it that way. That you liked when he took you, ravished you. That it turned you on to be used that way. It was as much for you as it was for him.

Tenya would never forget the salacious grin on your painted lips when you told him so. It made you that much more attractive, this insane sex drive you seemed to have. A few weeks ago, he never would have thought that you were so insatiable. How wrong he’d been.

As time goes on, however, you start finding ways to tease him, daring him to make the first move.

It’s been nearly two months when Tenya notices you dressing differently. Your skirts get tighter, and you never swap them out for dress pants, even when September begins to cool off the sweltering summer heat. You almost always opt for blouses with buttons or in fabrics that stretch—the easier to take off and put on, the better.

You also start to have a little more fun with your accessories, including your underwear. Every once in a while, Tenya will mumble a little comment about them—”these new?” or “haven’t seen this one before”—and he can tell by your smile that you love it.

One afternoon, Sasaki calls a meeting about a new product launch, and Tenya finds himself seated next to you at the conference table. With close to a dozen people in the room, it’s easy to watch you, unnoticed, even when he should be focusing on the presentation. Instead, Tenya’s eyes drift up and down your legs, counting the beats as you bounce one knee over the other.

You push your chair back from the table, hands crossed in your lap as you appear to listen about the wonders of kettlebell gloves. Maybe you are listening—you’re a decent multitasker—but Tenya is positive you know what you’re doing to him when you slide one foot out of your little black pumps. By curling your toes, you tap your shoe against your heel, and it should not be sexy, should not be turning Tenya on, but it does. Your bare ankle looks so delicate as your shoe dangles from your toe, reminding him of how quickly you could be undressed.

The meeting can’t end soon enough.

As soon as he can get you alone, Tenya is crowding you against the copier. He runs his hands over your hips, riding over your curves. “Have you always dressed like this for attention? Or is it just for me?”

You push your ass back against him. “What’s gotten into you?” you giggle, acting as if you don’t know.

“Supply closet?” he asks in response. If it were anyone else, he’d be self conscious about being too direct. But it’s you, and he’s learning not to think twice.

It’s nearly 4pm—some people have even gone home by this point. There’s no one around to see you dragging him by the tie into the closet and shutting the door behind you.

Tenya drops to his knees, kissing your thighs as you turn on the overhead light. His nose teases at the hem of your skirt, pushing it up as his hands slide up the backs of your legs. “Someone might see the light under the door,” he mumbles, almost whispering.

You hum appreciatively. “I think you’re going to wanna see these.”

“See what?”

Leaning back against the built in shelf, you push your hips forward. “Keep going.”

Clammy palms push your skirt up over your hips. Tenya continues his ascent up your inner thigh, pushing your legs further apart to make room. He finds his surprise at the apex.

Your red lace panties have no crotch. Instead, draped over the middle, is a string of faux pearls. They’re beautiful, nestled against your folds, and they’re already wet.

As he stares in awe, Tenya stupidly comments, “Those can’t be comfortable to sit around in.”

You stifle a laugh. “They’re not as bad as you’d think.” You lift one foot out of your shoe and place it on his shoulder, lewdly spreading yourself for him. “Wanna taste ‘em?”

Tenya turns his head, kissing the ball of your ankle before pulling your leg down over his shoulder. “Dying to.”

His mouth slots between your thighs—trembling, if he’s not mistaken—with a warm sigh of relief. After leaving wet kisses over your clothed clit, Tenya tilts his head back and lets his tongue jut out, licking a stripe over the pearls. The little beads taste like plastic and you, like treasures for him to find and retrieve, soaked in your essence. He works at them with his tongue, playing with them until he loses his grip and then starts all over again, slurping you up as he goes.

Your hips buck when he hits a sensitive spot, when he pushes the pearls deeper into your folds with his tongue. He feels you twitch when he nudges one almost inside your hole before sucking as much of you into his mouth at once as he can. You hum on a moan, trying to keep quiet, fingers twisted tight in his hair.

Tenya comes up panting, his face covered in you. “Do you want to come like this?”

With your back pressed up against a shelf of printer paper, you bite your lip hard and nod yes.

Tenya pulls you down firmly on his shoulder, getting you right where he wants you, before pushing two fingers up inside your panties to tweak at your clit. He rolls the little bud between his thumb and forefinger, licking against your slit where the pearls are held taut until he hears you squeak and feels the little gush against his face.

While you shiver in the aftershocks, Tenya licks his lips then wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Carefully, he pulls you off his shoulder and stands up, undoing his belt on the way. His heartbeat pounds in his throat while he struggles with the condom. Once it’s on, he slips inside you, one of your thighs held to his hip, the string of pearls brushing his cock with every thrust until he comes undone.

Then, like every time, you clean yourselves up and walk away like nothing ever happened, and Tenya’s heart breaks a little more.

After months of wallowing, Midoriya finally starts to act like himself again. He joins Tenya at the gym more often and even comes jogging in the morning a few times. Some evenings, Tenya cooks dinner for both of them, knowing his friend is hopeless in the kitchen and has more or less been surviving off of Cup Noodles since mid-summer. Tenya doesn’t mind it—he likes to cook, and it’s nice to have the company a few nights per week.

Tonight, after they finish the salmon he made, he’s standing on a stool in his bedroom while Midoriya measures the inseam of his tux pants for Todoroki’s wedding. Tenya had to order his a size up to make room for his thick thighs, and he needs them tailored.

“Are you going to ask her to be your date?” Midoriya asks just as he presses his tape measure to Tenya’s crotch. He doesn’t have to clarify who he means.

“No.” Tenya focuses intently on not getting hard at the thought of you. It’s pathetic that a simple thought or mention of you is sometimes all it takes, but he cannot embarrass himself with Midoriya between his legs right now.

“I told you, it’s only casual. We’re not together, and besides, they already invited her anyway.”

Midoriya shrugs. “But you like her, don’t you?”

“I… It’s purely physical.” He hasn’t shared every dirty detail with Midoriya, but since he’s never met you, Tenya felt safe telling him about your arrangement.

“So how are you going to feel if she shows up with somebody else?”

“She’s not—”

Midoriya grabs a few pins from the cushion around his wrist, holding them in his mouth while he crouches to pin Tenya’s hem. “But are you sure?”

Now that Tenya thinks about it, he’s not. Just because he hasn’t been seeing anyone else, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t be.

“All I’m saying,” Midoriya mumbles around his pins, “is that you shouldn’t wait around too long if you want something more.”

Tenya has to admit that he might have a point. Maybe he’s not cut out for casual after all, despite how good it’s been so far. He spends more time thinking about you than he cares to admit—and it’s not always sexual. He wishes he could spend more time with you outside of work too.

Sometimes, during his morning runs, he imagines what it would be like if you were beside him. But he doesn’t even know if you like jogging.

He doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Wow, Midoriya. That really means a lot, coming from you. And you’re aware that Bakugou will more than likely be there with Uraraka?”

Midoriya snorts. “God, I hope Todoroki doesn’t seat me with them. But regardless, I’m still going stag to the wedding. I don’t even know anyone to ask. Now hold still so I can get the other leg even,” he says, reaching for his measuring tape again.

While Midoriya finishes pinning, Tenya considers all his options. He was planning on attending the wedding without a date—he figured he’d just see you, Midoriya, and everyone else from work there. He supposes he could ask you to be his date as a friend, but what would be the point?

To make sure you’re not going with someone else, he guesses.

With the wedding only a few weeks away, he’s going to need to figure out what to do about it—if anything—and soon. Maybe he can bring it up casually in conversation, but he’s not sure he has the nerve. Between finding out you’re going with someone else or asking you out himself, Tenya’s not sure which one he’s more afraid of.

This doesn’t count, Tenya tells himself. When Sero shows up at the end of the workday, off early from the tattoo shop, and invites everyone to join him and Todoroki for dinner, it doesn’t count as having dinner with you. There’s nothing in the rules about going out in a group together.

Careful to keep himself in check, Tenya only has two beers with his burger. It may have worked out in his favor last time, but he doesn’t plan on getting wasted this time. You seat yourself easily by his side, your arm brushing his as you finish off a cocktail with your dinner.

For the first time, Tenya really wonders if anyone else around the table can tell that there’s something else going on between the two of you. He’s usually as careful as he can be, trying not to show you any special attention. But even just sitting next to you, listening to you talk and laugh with your friends, is distracting.

Then, while you’re laughing at something Denki says, your hand falls to Tenya’s knee. It seems like you don’t even notice that you’re doing it, the gesture warm and familiar, like you’d done it a thousand times. Tenya’s neck gets hot, and he can’t think about anything but the weight of your hand on his leg.

“Iida.”

Tenya jumps when Sero calls his name, and you pull your hand away, jolted back to reality. “Hm?” He hasn’t been listening at all.

“I asked if they’ve given you that promotion yet. I wanna know when you’re gonna be Shouto’s boss so I can tease him about it.” Sero’s arm is wrapped around Todoroki’s shoulders, his signature grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Todoroki hardly reacts except to blow a strand of hair out of his face.

Tenya clears his throat. “They haven’t mentioned it in a while. Toshinori is hardly in the office, so I suspect that’s slowing down the process.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Denki leans forward so he can catch Tenya’s eye over the table. “I was sorting the mail and I heard Sasaki talking to David Shield from R&D. They were going over some financial mumbo jumbo and I heard him say they need to make some hiring decisions this month before they can approve his research budget for next year.”

This time, when you squeeze Tenya’s arm, you don’t try to hide it. You have a good reason not to. “So you’ll know this month whether you’re moving up or not. That’s exciting!”

Although he’s been fucking you for months, Tenya still blushes at your touch, especially while his friends are looking. This is what you do to him. He mutters, “Thank you. I’ll just be glad when this whole thing is over and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Your hand falls away from him as you reply. “Yeah, that makes sense.” Something in your voice changes—you sound almost disappointed, giving Tenya a pang in the heart.

“There’s no way they’ll choose Monoma,” says Todoroki. “He’s a dickhead.”

Sero gulps down the rest of his drink, his forehead creasing with a frown. “Is this that guy who stole your yogurt out of the fridge?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think so.”

“If I ever get my hands on him…”

“You guys wanna hear something crazy?” Denki chimes in. “I put red pepper flakes in my leftover takeout to see who’s been stealing it from the fridge, and at lunch, I caught Shinsou coughing and buying a milk from the vending machine. I trusted him!”

While Denki retells the loss of his chance with Shinsou that may have opened another door with Jirou, Tenya’s attention falls back to you. You’ve gone quiet, which is strange, considering how excited you were. Did his reaction upset you? Was it not what you were looking for? He can’t quite discern what he’s done wrong, but he felt the twinge of sadness when you pulled away from him.

He lets himself look at you—really look at you—while you pointedly look away. He’s dying to get you away from this table, to somewhere you can talk, but he can’t think of an excuse. So instead, while nobody is paying attention, he reaches for the strap of your dress, which has fallen down your shoulder. He lets his knuckles trail against your arm as he pushes it back into place.

“Please,” he whispers, so only you can hear. “Come home with me.”

He doesn’t expect you to agree. He prepares himself for you to reject his invitation, like you always do. But your eyes shine when you look up at him. “Ok.”

When the bills are paid and the table is cleared, you climb into Tenya’s car. It’s dark outside, and it’s just started to rain. Music plays softly from the speakers because he knows you dread silence. Tenya nestles his hand in your lap while he drives, letting you play with his fingers to distract yourself.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No…. I don’t know.”

He’s never seen you like this, the light that usually bursts from inside of you practically extinguished. He knows he can’t take what you say at face value right now.

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he tries a different question. “Did I do something that upset you?”

Over the pattering of the rain on the windows, he hears you sniffle, and that’s when Tenya realizes that you’re crying.

“I just need a minute to think.”

“Ok.” Tenya turns up the music a few notches, hoping it gives you the illusion of space and privacy behind the sound. That, and unless it gets any worse, he really doesn’t want to hear you cry because it breaks his heart.

You wipe your eyes, pulling yourself together as he parks in his driveway. Craning your neck, you look out the rain-streaked window. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” Tenya turns the radio down again, but leaves it softly playing an old rock ballad he’s probably heard a thousand times before. “Do you still want to come in? I’ll make you a cup of tea. Or if you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you home or call you a ride. Whatever you want.”

When you turn back to him, you’re wearing a ghost of your usual smile. “You’re too good to me, Iida. Always putting me first.”

Tenya fiddles with his tie, pulling the knot a little looser around his throat. “Of course.” It’s all he can think to say. Is it not obvious?

You unbuckle your seatbelt, his heart clenching at the sound. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”

The rain has started to pick up, so you follow him up to his stoop with your coat held over your head. As Tenya unlocks the door, he decides that if you’re not ready to talk about what’s bothering you, he’s not going to push it anymore. If you just want to be comforted and taken care of, then that’s what he’ll do. In a way, it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for him over the past few months, in more ways than you even know about.

He lets you inside, taking your coat and flipping on a light while you kick off your ankle boots, revealing a pair of brightly-colored socks with what looks like turtles on them. Normally, he’d make a comment, tell you how cute he thinks they are. Maybe later he’ll get the chance.

The next thing Tenya does is fill and turn on the electric kettle. Then he sets you down at the kitchen island while he fixes you a plate of mini scones and goes over the tea choices. “Decaf?” He can’t imagine you’d want caffeine at this hour, but maybe you want a pick-me-up.

“Yes, please. Do you have something herbal?”

Tenya hums as the kettle starts to bubble. “Orange, lavender, or white jasmine?”

“Oh, the orange.”

Tenya grabs two teabags.

“And honey?”

He grabs the honey.

His back is to you as he fixes two matching mugs—thick, blue ceramic that he picked out when he got his first place of his own. The kettle is almost ready, so while he waits, he undoes his tie completely, letting it drape over his shoulders. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, then rolls up his sleeves. Though Tenya genuinely just likes to be dressed comfortably at home, he wouldn’t be upset if you happen to be watching him.

When the kettle is ready, he prepares a tea for each of you, then turns to add the honey in front of you so you can say when. You wrap both your hands around the mug like it’s made of solid gold. Immediately, you take a sip.

“Ow.” You click your tongue against your teeth.

“You never let it cool,” Tenya mentions, slowly stirring his honey into his steaming cup.

“So you’ve noticed?” This makes you smile, so Tenya keeps going.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you.”

“Like how many different bras I own?” you chuckle.

Tenya snorts, then runs a hand through his hair. “Well, yeah. But also stuff like how you like your tea and what music you listen to. Where you have scars and marks on your body. That kind of thing.”

A long, not-uncomfortable silence falls over the kitchen as you both enjoy your tea, Tenya leaning against the island opposite you.

You wring out your teabag against the side of your mug with your spoon, then place both on the saucer Tenya set out between you. Then you clear your throat. “At the bar…”

Tenya sets his own mug down and listens.

You sigh. “It’s kind of stupid, in hindsight. But I’m worried that when you get the promotion, you’ll be all set in life. And you won’t need me anymore.” Your voice wavers on the last syllable, and you cough into your shoulder to cover it up. Your eyes are glassy again.

Tenya doesn’t hesitate, barely thinks before pressing his hand to your cheek, softly bringing your gaze to meet his. “I guarantee that if I get the promotion, I’ll be as stressed as ever. Maybe even more—just look at Sasaki. I’ll be in his shoes.” Tenya chuckles in spite of himself.

“Regardless, I wouldn’t want to stop seeing you, if that were the case. I’d actually like to see you more, if you want that.” Tenya rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Unless you’re ready to be done with me, and whatever this thing is.”

“No.” You reply in a thick, watery whisper. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes. “But I think I fucked up. I think I have real feelings for you.”

Tenya brings his other hand to your face. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbles into a kiss.

Your mugs of tea are quickly forgotten. You kiss him back across the kitchen island, covering his hands with your own. Tenya can’t stop because he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to kiss you like this, with the full weight of how he feels about you.

When you finally pull back, you’re biting your lip. “Is it too much if I ask you to take me to your bedroom?”

Tenya does you one better and carries you there in his arms.

You giggle when he lays you down on his pristinely made bed, your blouse riding up over your stomach. Tenya is blindsided by how beautiful you look like this, rumpled and laughing. He’s never fucked you lying down before, and suddenly, it all feels that much more intimate.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before you pull him down on top of you by his shirt. Tenya settles himself between your legs, bent over the foot of the bed. You undress each other between passionate kisses, baring yourselves to each other from this entirely new angle.

Tenya trails kisses down your body until he’s crouched on the floor, tongue pressed against your pussy with a heat he’s never felt before. He devours you, groaning while you writhe against him, reaching down to pull his hair when you want him to hit a different spot. He lets you direct him wherever you like, alternating between licking over your hole and sucking your clit until you cream on the two fingers he has buried inside you.

Half-drunk on you, Tenya climbs back on top. With your legs around his waist, you beg him to fuck you, to fill you up with everything he has. He doesn’t have a condom nearby, but you plead with him anyway, telling him that tonight, he doesn’t need one. For the first time since the first time, he slicks himself up with you and slides in raw, moaning your name as the plush of your walls sucks him in deep.

When his glasses slide down his nose from the sweat beading on his face, Tenya tosses them vaguely toward the night stand. As he moves inside you, he drops his forehead to rest against yours. Even with his eyes closed in ecstasy, he listens for every desperate sound you make and feels every clench of your muscles around him.

He feels like there’s so much he wants to tell you, so much he wants to ask you, but it feels so good inside you that he can only babble. Your breaths are hot and fast against his mouth as he lets the words spill out. “So good, so fucking perfect. Good girl, you fuck me so well.”

He lets you push against his chest and roll him over. He holds your middle while you ride him to your climax, the extra wetness and the vice-like squeeze pulling him over the edge with you. Your body locks up over his as he fills you with everything he has, coating your insides until it starts to leak out into his lap.

Tenya’s chest pounds, breath quickening until he comes down and you collapse at his side, a hand splayed over his sweaty chest. He holds you, memorizing the shape and weight of you beside him until you get up to shower off together, and then he holds you for the rest of the night too.

–

Tenya never thought he would see you like this: in his bed, under his sheets, asleep with your head on his pillow. He hates to wake you up and disturb you, but if you want to go home for a change of clothes before work, he probably needs to drive you there soon. Lightly, he nudges your shoulder until your lashes flutter.

“Morning,” he says softly.

You roll over onto your back, groaning a little bit as you stretch. “Good morning,” you mumble.

“Sleep ok?” Tenya slides out of bed, reaching to his bedside table before he realizes his glasses aren’t there. He’s about to get down and look under the bed for them when your hand finds his back. He lays back down.

“Pretty well, yeah.” You take your time looking him over, touching his arm, studying his face fondly.

After a while, he asks, “Do you want me to take you home before work?”

You snuggle deeper into your pillow. “Nah, I’ll just borrow one of your shirts.”

“You’re already wearing one of my shirts,” he smirks, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. He’d let you dig through his pajama drawer before bed, and you’d chosen the biggest t-shirt you could find.

“Then I’ll borrow another one.” You giggle a bit, before your smile fades. “If that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok.”

You sit halfway up, swallowing a deep breath, and a knot forms in Tenya’s stomach.

“I just want to make sure we’re absolutely clear,” you explain, twisting the bedsheets in your fists. “I have feelings for you. Is that something you want to pursue now? Because I don’t think I can stay casual with you anymore, unless it’s just as friends.”

Tenya exhales. He sits up too, taking you hand in his own so you let the sheets fall away. Even without his glasses on, he sees you in perfect focus, his memory making up for what his vision lacks. “I should have known from the beginning that I couldn’t ‘keep it casual.’ Especially not with you.”

You blush, and it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. You try to look away, but he doesn’t want you to hide from him. Lightly, he lifts your chin with a curled finger and pecks you on the lips.

“Would you like to date me?”

You burst into a fit of happy giggles. “Yes. Please.”

Tenya smiles so big it almost hurts. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

You kiss him again before swatting at his chest. “You fell for me?” you tease.”

“Completely,” Tenya admits with one more kiss.

Eventually, he’s able to get you out of bed, and he finds his glasses, haphazardly tossed aside the night before, all the way across the room, behind his hamper. He’s not even sure how he managed that. He leaves you to get ready while he goes downstairs to start his coffee pot and stick a few eggs in the hard boiler. You don’t have a ton of time to get to work, but he can order you some breakfast once you get there if you want.

With two travel mugs filled and ready to go, he heads back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He finds you in the ensuite, leaning forward over the counter to pin up your hair. You’re wearing one of his dress shirts tucked into your skirt and an oversized sweater vest over top. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it all look so purposeful.

He has a passing thought about taking you over the counter, pushing your skirt up and fucking you from behind, but you’re verging on being late to work already. Besides, he remembers. The two of you have all the time in the world now.

Instead, he gives you a kiss on the cheek, tells you that you look beautiful, and within minutes, you’re out the door.

When he pulls his car into the parking garage, something occurs to him. “What are we going to tell people?”

“About us?”

“Yes,” Tenya chuckles. Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to you yet either, but with this relationship, he was starting to expect to figure things out as you go. “Do you want to tell people about us?”

“Yes,” you answer confidently. “But maybe we can just say that we’ve been getting closer as friends… if anyone asks.”

“Good idea.”

That’s how the two of you end up walking into the building, hand in hand instead of one after the other. It’s also why Kaminari stands up at his desk screaming, “I knew it!” before the front door has even closed behind you.

Tenya probably should have expected the news would shake up the office a bit. Everything is about to change, but to his own surprise, he isn’t afraid in the slightest. He just holds your hand a little tighter, and he feels ok.

While you’re busy talking Kaminari down when Sasaki appears from around the corner. “Iida, do you have a minute?”

Tenya’s stomach drops. Everything positive he was feeling is instantly replaced with nausea. He’s sure his face turns pale as he wonders what this is about. The promotion? Probably. But what if he’s in trouble? What if someone caught the two of you hooking up and he’s about to be reprimanded or worse?

Trying his best not to jump to any more dire conclusions, Tenya swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “Sure.” He gives your hand one more squeeze before following Sasaki to his office.

Despite his nerves about the conversation ahead, Tenya finds Sasaki’s office as calming as usual. It’s plainly furnished with a desk, chairs, and a few filing cabinets, and a bookcase stuffed with comics, all of which are kept immaculately neat. The only items on the desk are Sasaki’s computer and a set of wax seals.

On a shelf by the windows sits a tabletop fountain next to an oil diffuser, the calming scent of eucalyptus wafting across the room—Tenya has always assumed Sasaki keeps these around to help with stress. One wall is decorated with posters from national parks, and across from it hangs the company’s yearly branded calendar next to a framed motivational print of a kitten clinging to a tree branch.

None of this is unsettling except for the old cardboard cutout of Toshinori, made years ago for an advertising campaign, standing in the corner staring out eerily from behind the man himself, who is seated next to Sasaki’s desk.

Toshinori stands and shakes Tenya’s hand. “Great to see you, Iida. I’ve been so busy, I feel like it’s been months!”

In truth, it has been a couple weeks, not that Tenya would mention it. “How’s your finger healing up?” Tenya asks, taking a seat. The last time he saw Toshinori, he was still wearing a splint.

“Fine, it’s all fine. I do have a sprained arch from wakeboarding, but it’s nothing that some good shoes and a few days of rest won’t fix.” Toshinori is always injuring himself, it seems. Nonetheless, he remains endlessly positive, making it impossible for Tenya to tell if he’s in trouble or not.

Sasaki takes a seat as well and pulls some papers out of his desk drawer. “Well, now that Toshinori has a bum foot and I have him captive in the office for the week, we were finally able to discuss some things.”

Sasaki taps the edges of the paperwork on his desk, but before Tenya can even say a prayer that they’re not severance papers, Toshinori blurts out, “We’re promoting you to Quality Manager! What do you think?”

Sasaki sighs. “As in, do you accept the position?”

“And all the perks, of course,” Toshinori says, nudging his elbow into Tenya’s side.

Truthfully, Tenya is so relieved he could almost cry, so it takes him a few minutes to find the words to respond. After flapping his lips a few times, Tenya enthusiastically accepts. “Yes, yes I would love to. I’d be honored.” Reflexively, he reaches out to shake Toshinori’s hand again, which makes his boss laugh as he accepts.

“You’ve been nothing but an asset to the company for years, Young Iida. You deserve it more than anyone.”

Sasaki tries to hand Tenya the stack of forms and contracts to sign, but Tenya slides in a handshake before Sasaki can dodge it. Sasaki chuckles under his breath. “I hope you haven’t been driving yourself crazy worrying about this. You were easily our first choice.”

Tenya clears his throat, accepting the contracts and a pen to sign them with. The salary increase listed at the top of the page is nothing to balk at, and he’s even more thankful than he was a minute ago.

“To tell you the truth, I thought maybe you’d go with someone else.”

“Who?” Sasaki asks.

“Monoma, maybe,” Tenya mumbles.

Toshinori bursts out laughing, the volume practically rattling the walls. “Monoma is a fine salesman, but truthfully, it was only because the investor board wanted us to present a few candidates before making the offer. He was more of a back-up.”

“Monoma is a prick,” Sasaki adds bluntly. “I would have only promoted Todoroki if you declined, Iida. You’ll be at liberty to choose your own assistant manager once all this is finalized, but I highly recommend you choose him. He’s got a level head on his shoulders.”

“You’re right about that.” Tenya would love nothing more than to bring Todoroki up the corporate ladder with him, so to speak, but he’ll have to see if he’s even interested first. Maybe he can enlist you and Hanta to help him encourage Todoroki to step up. If nothing else, he’s positive Todoroki would love his own office instead of a cubicle.

After he reads over the rest of the documents and signs his name on the dotted line, Sasaki takes Tenya to his new office, an actual corner office that was vacated a few months ago when Aizawa started working from home while taking care of his adopted daughter. It’s all so corporate, and feels almost too much for a middle manager, but Tenya has to admit, the view is much nicer than the temporary walls of his cubicle.

And so is the privacy, he realizes, when you slide in shortly after Sasaki leaves, locking the door behind you.

“Congrats, Mr. Manager.” You throw your arms around his neck, craning your neck back for a kiss. With his hands pressed to the small of your back, Tenya pulls you in for one.

“Thank you. So you heard already?”

You slip teasingly out of his grasp, wandering over to peer out the floor to ceiling windows framing the corner of the room. “Of course. You’re the talk of the office today, you know.”

“Is that so?” Tenya slides up behind you, unable to keep his hands away from your hips, pulling you back against him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, marveling again at the view of the city outside. “And is that your fault?”

“No, Denki was listening at Sasaki’s door the whole time. He’s the one who told everybody.”

Tenya kisses the side of your neck. You don’t smell like your normal perfume. You smell like his shirt, his toothpaste, his home. “Of course.”

You giggle. “And you know what else they’re saying?”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re dating the girl from marketing.”

Tenya kisses your neck again, farther down, pushing your collar aside to get closer to your shoulder. “I’m flattered that people think I could deserve her.”

You turn in his arms, already unbuttoning your top. You take a step back, leaning your ass against his new desk. “Imagine if they knew what’s been happening right under their noses.”

Tenya loosens his tie. He’s on top of the world right now, with nothing to stop him from taking advantage of his new private office. Breaking the facade, he presses himself against you again and asks earnestly, “Does this make me your boyfriend?”

He lifts you up just enough to help you sit on his desk. You grin, somehow warm and salacious all at once. Taking his face in your hands, you pull him closer still. “Yes, sir,” you reply before sealing your lips over his.

Todoroki and Sero could not have chosen a more perfect day for their wedding. It’s unseasonably warm for mid-autumn, the sun peeking through the branches of the half-barren trees. For a day when he needs to stand outdoors in a tux and not sweat through his jacket, Tenya could not be more thankful.

Although it’s almost time to head to the venue, Tenya stops in front of the bathroom mirror to ensure that not a hair on his head is out of place. He knows how much it means to Todoroki that today goes smoothly, and even though Tenya isn’t the best man, he’s taken it upon himself to coordinate some of the finer details of the day, as far as the wedding party goes. He’s texted Natsuo multiple times to make sure he has the rings, made sure that Midoriya is on standby for any last minute outfit repairs, and reminded Inasa at the rehearsal dinner that he is not permitted to start drinking until after the ceremony.

Just as Tenya is starting to feel a stress knot forming between his shoulder blades, your heels come clopping against the tile floor of the bathroom. You reach in and grab your lipstick off the bathroom counter, tucking it away in your comically small clutch purse. In the same motion, you teasingly pat his ass with your hand.

“You look so handsome. I love your hair slicked back like that.” Even after everything, it still makes Tenya feel fluttery inside when you flirt with him so shamelessly.

He trails the back of his hand down your arm, admiring the way the sleeve of your dress flutters over your skin. “Thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Good thing there’s no bride to upstage.”

Chuckling, Tenya subconsciously leans in to kiss you. You slap your purse against his chest to stop him. “Baby, my lipstick,” you giggle.

“Good catch.” There’s no time for whatever cleanup that might entail.

From the moment the two of you hop into Tenya’s car, the next few hours pass in a blur. The ceremony is being held outside at Enji’s country club. Cocktail hour will be inside the rustic lodge, and dinner and dancing afterwards in an elaborate tent on the edge of the golf course. Though it looks lovely on you, your lipstick again prevents Tenya from kissing you before you part ways. Instead, he presses a kiss to your hand before you go to meet Kaminari in the lodge for a drink.

Garment bag in hand, Tenya is then whisked away by the wedding coordinator to a dressing room on the lower floor of the lodge. Midoriya is already there, crouched on the floor, pressing the creases in Todoroki’s white tux pants with his portable steamer. The groom himself is sitting on a barstool in a silk robe and his boxers, talking to his brothers. Touya isn’t even technically in the wedding party, but Tenya thinks it’s nice that Shouto invited him to hang out before the ceremony anyway. Inasa and Tokoyami, Todoroki’s college friends, should be joining shortly.

Normally, Tenya would ask Todoroki how he’s feeling, but he’s wary of stirring up any potential trouble. Instead, he says, “That’s a nice robe.”

“Gift from Hanta,” Todoroki says, smiling. “It came in a set. I think mostly he just wanted to wear the matching one.” Natsuo snorts out a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand, but Shouto doesn’t even seem to notice. In fact, he’s smiling more than usual, with an easy confidence that Tenya was definitely not expecting.

“You seem… relaxed.” Tenya can’t help but state the obvious. It’s been months since he’s seen Todoroki so calm and laid-back.

“Yeah, Todoroki,” Midoriya comments. “Aren’t you nervous?”

Tenya would smack Midoriya in the back of the head if he were standing close enough, but Todoroki keeps smiling, unflappable. He simply glances down at his hands, rubbing his left ring finger.

“I would be. But just between us, Hanta and I are actually already married.”

Tenya’s jaw drops to the floor. Midoriya screeches sharply in surprise.

Natsuo blinks. “You’re what?”

“Don’t tell dad. Or mom or Fuyumi, either,” Todoroki says. “But yeah, we were talking about how stressed we were, how I was so wrapped up in planning and Han was avoiding it. So we decided to book an appointment at city hall, just for us.”

“Well, shit.” Touya clicks his tongue, grinning.

“Well, congratulations!” Tenya sputters, equal parts proud and flabbergasted.

Once everyone is present and dressed, the next few hours are spent taking photos while trying to avoid Sero, who is getting ready with his own bridal party on-location. “Hanta’s old-fashioned,” Todoroki explains at one point. “He didn’t want to see me before the ceremony.”

It’s a sweet notion, and it’s completely worth it, Tenya decides, as he watches the pure joy on his friends’ faces when they finally see each other. With the bridal party already lined up, Todoroki and Sero exit from opposite sides of the lodge and meet at the end of the aisle. Todoroki grins so hard it looks like his cheeks might burst while Sero smiles brightly with all his teeth, an eyebrow raised as if to ask, “Are you ready for this?”

From there, the two join hands and walk to the altar together. Tenya finds himself crying, overwhelmed with happiness and pride for his friends who are so in love. He spends the first few minutes of the ceremony behind his handkerchief until he’s able to pull himself together.

Vows and rings are exchanged, and when the officiant pronounces the couple “officially” wed, Sero fully dips his husband and steals a steamy kiss—one dramatic enough to potentially piss off his new father-in-law, but also romantic enough that no one will be able to say a damn word about it.

Then the party begins.

While the rest of the guests are shuffled off to cocktail hour, Tenya endures more posed photos than he’s ever been subjected to in his life. Cheeks sore from smiling, he finally makes it to the reception tent where you’re waiting for him with a drink in your hand. He tips back the expensive amber liquid without bothering to ask what it is, but the burn on the way down is refreshing.

“Thank you, I needed that,” he jokes, sliding his arm around your waist.

“I thought you might. Being in a wedding is hard work, you know.” You rub little circles into his back, holding yourself close to him.

Tenya presses a kiss to your temple. “Hardest part is being so far from you.” He knows his time is short—the rest of the wedding party members are already filling their seats at the head table, and he needs to join them.

Your seat at the ‘friends and partners’ table is calling you too. With a parting kiss, you promise to find him after dinner.

The food is incredible, the speeches are limited to a few short toasts, and Todoroki shares a dance with his mother that makes Tenya tear up for a second time that day. It’s all very traditional, befitting the elegant decor and soft, intimate lighting in the room.

Tenya doesn’t consider himself much of a dancer—for all his athletic ability, he’s much too stiff on the dance floor and sticks out like a sore thumb—but he’s relieved when the DJ invites everyone out of their seats with an upbeat pop song. Suddenly, everything feels more casual, and people begin to move around freely to mingle.

Once he procures another drink to loosen him up, Tenya joins you on the dance floor along with Kaminari and Jirou. While Tenya sways side to side behind you, one hand on your hip and the other around the neck of his beer bottle, he gets the chance to people-watch. Todoroki has his arms thrown around Sero’s neck, the newlyweds sharing a smitten look and slow dancing even though it’s a faster song.

By the bar stands Toshinori, a head above the crowd and with his hand wrapped loosely around a few of David Shield’s fingers. Midoriya speaks animatedly to them while tracing his finger nervously around the rim of his cocktail glass. Toshinori flaps open his jacket to show Midoriya the bright red and blue silk lining, so Tenya assumes they must be talking menswear. They seemingly exchange phone numbers, after which Toshinori lays a heavy hand on Midoriya’s shoulder before David pulls him away to another conversation.

As Midoriya lingers alone near the bar, Tenya is able to catch his eye. He tries to wave his friend over to join the group, but Midoriya just shakes his head, lips pressed in a tight smile. It’s then Tenya notices that you’re chatting with Uraraka as you dance, your hands clasped with hers between you as Bakugou hovers nearby, hands in his pockets. She was seated at your dinner table since her boyfriend was standing up for Sero, so of course you made friends.

When the song ends, Tenya can’t help but pat your ass before slipping away. You wink at him over your shoulder and pop your hip, confirming that you liked it.

Tenya drifts over to the bar. Posting up next to Midoriya, he asks casually, “How’s it going?”

Midoriya shrugs. “Fine. I don’t really want to go over there, though.”

Tenya takes a pensive sip of his drink. “Understandable.”

“‘Sup, Iida.”

Turning away from the bar with one of the signature cocktails in hand is Shinsou. Though he was replaced as Kaminari’s date after the leftovers squabble, Tenya doesn’t hold it against him.

In fact, as he’s saying hello to his coworker, Tenya gets an idea that could be complete brilliance or an absolute disaster, but he decides it’s worth a shot.

“Have you met Midoriya? He’s a school friend of mine and Todoroki’s.”

“I have not,” Shinsou muses. He reaches out to Midoriya for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

In less than a second, Midoriya has pulled Shinsou’s entire arm toward him to inspect his wool jacket. “Is this Ralph Lauren?”

Shinsou chuckles. “Yeah, vintage. I like to do my rounds at a few thrift shops every weekend. You wouldn’t believe the gems you’ll find if you’re willing to sift through the junk.”

Midoriya flips Shinsou’s cuff inside out, closely inspecting the stitching. “It’s in great shape, and this is probably from the late 90s. Have you found any other cool stuff lately? I swear I never have any luck at the shops in town.” He’s babbling, a long-standing nervous habit.

Shinsou gives a catlike grin. “I’d be willing to give you some pointers. Wanna go find somewhere a little quieter?”

As the two scamper away, falling into conversation about the best places to thrift, Tenya makes his way back to you. He falls back into place behind you, holding your hips and swaying along with you. It seems like a lifetime ago that he only dared to touch you when no one else was around. In reality, it’s only been a few months since that night at the bar, when everything started—when everything in his life changed.

Tenya’s life isn’t perfect by any means, and it looks much different than he thought it would before you. But he has a job he enjoys for a company that treats him well. He’s in a room with nearly all his friends—more than he can count on two hands—and he’s proud of the lives they’re leading too.

And he’s in love. With you.

The DJ plays a slow song next, urging all the couples to join the grooms on the dance floor. The string lights draped in tulle across the ceiling of the tent fade to a moody indigo hue, and couples young and old take the floor. You spin around, wobbling a little before falling into Tenya’s chest. He makes a mental note to get you a water before you have another drink, but he can’t help but smile when he sees how eager you look.

“Dance with me?”

“Of course.”

You move onto the dance floor proper, choosing a spot near the outer edge. Tenya holds you close, his hands loose against your waist while your arms loop around his neck. It’s effortless, how well the two of you fit together.

Tenya had told himself for years that a relationship would only make life more complicated. He was wrong. Because being with you is easy. It’s comfortable. It makes his life better. The earth-shattering sex is just a bonus, and even that is something he doesn’t have to worry about anymore. He doesn’t need to rush off with you in public because he knows you’ll be home with him at the end of the day. Not that he never wants to hook up in public again, but it’s nice knowing he doesn’t have to.

“So, tonight. Are we going back to your place or mine?”

Tenya hums thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter. Which do you prefer?”

You playfully tilt your head side to side, like you’re weighing heavy options. “Yours, if that’s ok. I feel like I’ve practically been living there, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Never. Even if you want to move in permanently, I wouldn’t say no.”

It’s not until you gasp that Tenya fully processes what he said, but it’s the truth. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He’d been going back and forth, a little worried that it might be to soon for you—

“Can I really?”

Tenya pushes a stray tendril of hair behind your ear. “Yes.”

You quietly squeal with delight, just loud enough for the two of you to hear. “You want to live with me? You want to cook and pay bills together? And share a dresser drawer for our socks?”

“I think you can have your own dresser. But yes,” Tenya chuckles.

“Can we get new curtains for the bedroom windows?” Clearly, you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

“What’s wrong with my curtains?”

Your fingers drum against his shoulder. “Nothing, nothing! I just think the room could use a little more color.”

“Fair enough, if we can pick out the new ones together.”

“Deal. But I want something a little darker so I can sleep in while you go running crazy early in the morning.”

“All right.” He smiles.

Tenya has only successfully convinced you to join him once on his morning run. It was nice having you by his side, but he finds it equally nice to come home and see you still serenely asleep in his bed—your shared bed. Those early mornings are his favorite thing in the world, especially when they lead to cuddling you, showering with you, making coffee and pancakes with you. Now that you’re moving in, he realizes, maybe every morning can be like that.

Tenya tilts your head up, content to kiss your lipstick off. After, you press your cheek to his chest, ear to his racing heartbeat. Even with all the time in the world, Tenya can’t wait for what comes next with you.

#tenya iida x reader #iida x reader #tenya iida fanfiction #my hero academic fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction #mybigbangacademia #bnha #junes fics

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cupids-scream-queen · 5 months

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❛ the wax muse ❜

Vincent Sinclair x f!reader

Summary: The muse of Vincent Sinclair.

(If y'all want a part 2 lmk!!)

ততততত

If there was one thing that Vincent Sinclair did not like about corpses, it was the fact that he couldn't have them stand there without an exorbitant amount of work.

That was why he had you, his beautiful (albeit, strange) girlfriend, who was the only person willing to stand in front of him for hours, striking the most obscene and downright confusing of poses.

He'd always considered you the most beautiful person to step foot in Ambrose, with your patchwork skirts and your pen-drawn tattoos, your seven suitcases and Ford pickup truck that Bo swore should've been sold to a scrapyard fifteen years ago. From the moment you entered that town, you were his, and it was only a matter of time before you'd get to see that.

You met Vincent in a more pleasant way than the majority of people. Bo took you to the museum, where you promptly observed that the wax figures had something inside of them that wasn't quite right, but nonetheless the figures were beautiful. You asked Bo if you could meet the artist (Bo said he didn't come out for people) because you sculpted wax, too, and Vincent overheard and was nearly overjoyed. Another artist was a treat--much less one that worked on the same thing he did.

And you were an artist, though one of many trades. You couldn't pick one to focus on, so your portfolio was filled with many craftsmanship trades, including wax sculpting and glass blowing. Traditional art was fun, but you'd grow bored of it quickly--forging was one of the ones that kept you busy for three years.

"Are you sure I can't meet the artist?" You asked again, and Bo shook his head. You weren't buying it. No artist that you'd ever met refused to see someone that was going to compliment their work. Artists relied on compliments.

"No, sweetheart. Ya can't. He ain't open for talkin' with strangers, ya hear?" Bo's voice was obnoxiously sweet, and you could feel him trying to pull you in, but you stood your ground. Firm in what you believed you were going to do.

"I refuse to leave unless I meet him. He's got to be around here somewhere. Can't I just tell him he's good?" You were practically yelling, which was a reaction Bo hadn't seen before. Usually, girls were so enamored by him they'd forget all about the figures. Except you, who seemed to have more of an interest in piles of wax than him. It annoyed him, to a certain degree.

"Jesus, can't you just quit? He ain't gonna come out, so you can shut yer pretty little mouth and--" A door shut, causing Bo to stop mid-sentence. The sounds of shoes shuffling against the wooden floor, and a man appeared in front of you and Bo, wearing a wax mask.

"You're the artist?" You asked, your eyes wide. Not with fear, which was what Vincent was used to, but with admiration. "You're very good, you know. I do wax sculptures myself but they aren't nearly as good as this."

The man nodded, and gave you a little thumbs-up, which you thought to be adorable. Bo looked pissed, grinding his teeth together, trying to form some semblance of a plan to continue to lure you to your fate as a figure yourself.

"That's...Vincent. He does the sculptures," Reluctant to introduce you two, and even more pissed when you two became an item, Bo was against your relationship with his brother as long as you could remember.

Even now, your naked form on a stool, a candle in your right hand and a skull in your left, Bo was cursing up a storm at Lester, trying to understand why his brother of all people got a girl. Not just any girl, he yelled, but a pretty one.

Lester would always assure you that Bo's anger was because he hated the rivalry between him and Vincent, something that you weren't even sure existed. If it did exist, it was in Bo's head, which was a dangerous place not even you were brave enough to venture into.

#house of wax #vincent sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #slasher fandom #Vicent Sinclair x reader

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some-creep · 23 days

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Here's my longer than anticipated prototype Falke fic. I'll reblog this later with an AO3 link but right now I can't get any of the formatting to stay because it's on Google drive and I'm on mobile

She awakens to a blinding white light. Her body is stiff and feels foreign as she tries to work out how her limbs work. It is with remarkable difficulty that she manages to push her body upright, only to double over at the unexpected weight of her frame. She gives a moment of pause, trying to make sense of her surroundings as her head threatens to split in two at every errant thought. Her stomach, which she suspects to be empty, still threatens to spill its contents all over her lap. Long before her eyes have the chance to focus, she hears a new sound over the mechanical buzzing that persists throughout the room. Voices. Unfamiliar. Then, an unknown force guiding her to lay back down which she does not fight. Her ears strain to listen, but the words do not make sense.

“I knew it. I told you I had a good feeling about this one, didn't I?”

“You did, but just because she's woken up doesn't mean she'll–”

“She will. If not, she can be molded like all the others.”

“Yes, but her neural pattern is highly unpredictable given the donor. Not to mention the experimental bioresonance module that–”

“Enough.”

The voices fall silent. She can only wonder what they were discussing, though she has no time to dwell on the specifics. Someone begins to stroke her hair, causing her eyes to flutter back open. They are nothing more than a fuzzy gray shape looming over her, and no matter how many times she blinks, her eyes refuse to focus.

“Can you see me? Adjust the calibration on her eyes.”

They wait for a moment before her vision begins to clear through a means she cannot understand. She is staring up at a dark haired woman she does not recognize, her outline haloed by the bright overhead light.

“Good morning, Falke.” Her face beams with pride but the name that falls from her lips sparks no recognition.

She can only lay there, trying to study her face in hopes that doing so can grant her the knowledge she desires. It seems, she thinks, like she is meant to respond, but she does not know what to say or how to say it. She furrows her brow in confusion, hoping it will suffice for an answer.

“You're going to do great things for us. Do you know that? You're very special.”

She manages to tilt her head to the side just enough to make it clear she's still confused. The woman above her doesn't seem surprised by this fact. She doesn't know what makes her special or what great things she is going to do. In fact, she isn't even sure how she knows anything and why there are gaps in what knowledge she does have.

She has no memory of a moment before this one, yet, in a general sense, she understands the world around her. The woman speaking to her appears to be middle aged, head adorned with a golden laurel crown. She is laying on some sort of bed. The room she is in is overly bright which further accentuates the sterile white ceiling and walls. Yet she does not know who she is. The woman had called her ‘Falke’ but the name means nothing to her. That is the name of an animal. A bird of prey. And she is not an animal.

Then…what is she?

She accepts her name as Falke for she knows of no alternative. The woman does not share with her her own name at that moment, a fact Falke simply does not question as it is of little concern to her compared to everything else. Something feels off. Everything feels wrong. The dark haired woman looks small in a way she doesn't understand. Her body fills out the bed to an unusual degree, and the sensation of touch is distant.

The woman excuses herself with a promise to return later. Falke does not watch her leave but listens to her footsteps, long, confident strides, across the tile floor. She hears a mechanical door glide open then shut again, leaving her alone with whoever else she had heard speaking before.

“Okay, Falke,” the voice, male, her mind tells her, begins to speak, “I'm going to ask you to do a few simple things for me so we can make sure everything is in working order, sound good?”

Falke nods her head slowly and begins to follow along with the basic instructions being given to her. Follow this with your eyes, move your head, wiggle your fingers, good job, now lift your right arm, your left, can you sit up for me?

The instructions are easy to follow, but there is an undeniable disconnect between her mind and body. She feels as if she is controlling a puppet rather than her own physical form, yet she sees her arms move with her own two eyes. But they do not look correct. Falke does not know what her arms should look like, but the sleek black casing does not register as being her skin. As she stares at her hands, pressing her mechanically jointed thumb and forefinger together, she feels them touch with the faintest tap of plastic on plastic.

Falke wonders if this body is able to cry. The desire is overwhelming, but her expression never changes.

Führungskommando-Leiteinheit-Replika: FKLR. Affectionately referred to as simply Falke amongst the Gestalts who monitor her. It is not a title she understands, but she hopes one day it will become clearer.

Until that time comes, her days are filled with tests and experiments to assess her current functional capacity. She is finally used to walking after several days of stumbling around helplessly and falling into walls. She no longer feels nauseous looking down from her unimaginable height. Her body still feels too heavy, but the scientists tell her it is common with larger Replikas and she will gradually stop noticing it. She is even becoming used to her dull sense of touch as she learns how to properly gauge the information her body is giving her and what it means in context to the world around her. The scientists always tell her they are proud of her, and she finds she enjoys this a great deal.

Falke is not like the people around her. They are small and made of flesh and bone. One of the first things they made sure she knew was that she is capable of great destruction, but that she is a good girl who listens well, so she will be mindful not to harm those around her. She does not have a reason to disagree with this assessment of her. They have not lied to her yet. They are kind to her. They make sure all her needs are met.

Falke enjoys spending time in her room; the room she had been moved into once she was capable of maneuvering independently. It has the same sterile white walls as the rest of the facility she calls home, but it is adorned with Nation paraphernalia. The first time she had seen the room, decorated with flags and portraits of the Nation’s Leaders, she had felt uneasy and out of place, but now she finds great comfort in the iconography. It adds a sense of warmth to her world, she thinks, to know she is being watched over and cared for by the Leaders.

It is the Great Revolutionary that she met when she first woke up. She visits Falke as often as her schedule permits to check on her progress. Falke wishes she would stay longer to talk to her instead of her overseers, but she is a very busy woman, and so she understands the aversion to idle chatter.

She spends the majority of her free time reading the books they have provided for her, or watching the films left for her. She is moved by the stories of how the Nation's people have struggled under the unjust rule of the Empire, and she hopes one day she will be able to assist in some way. She is promised that this will be the case.

Falke wonders why she was made to look like the Great Revolutionary and her daughter. She takes the photos off of the wall to study them from time to time. Their gazes are stern and commanding, and she wishes her expression could match. She has seen her own face and she cannot stand to look at it. She does not recognize the woman who stares sadly back at her.

It is lonely, she finds, being an experimental Replika. The people around her have little interest in talking to her about anything besides her progress. She is making great strides in utilizing her bioresonant abilities, and the scientists always talk excitedly about each new milestone she reaches.

She is able to look into the minds of volunteers placed before her, and tell her overseers whatever information they ask her to retrieve. The Gestalts who volunteer always seem frightened of her, and she never sees the same one twice, but they reassure her it is just a test. If she encountered the same person again, she would not be facing a new, potentially more challenging mind.

Today, as she stands at the far end of a custom built firing range, hurling objects at targets with only her mind, she thinks to try talking to the scientist tasked with observing her. She, like all Gestalts who work in close proximity to Falke, was given a special implant to ensure Falke could not manipulate her outside the scope of any test.

“Does it hurt still, doctor?” She asks, not turning her attention away from her work.

The woman does not immediately answer, though she unconsciously raises her hand to the stitches on the side of her half shaved head.

“I hope you aren't mad at me over it.”

“Mad?” She repeats, and her voice startles Falke. Responses of any kind are rare if they fall outside of work related discussions.

“You were assigned to me, and because of that, precautions had to be taken. I…hope you do not blame me for this.”

She is quiet for a moment longer before she speaks again, voice unsure. “No, Falke, I don't blame…you. Now focus on your task.”

Falke smiles sadly to herself, lowering her head for a moment. She does not look up as she casts the final projectile, a metal ball, through the remaining wooden target, showering the firing range with splinters before the ball impacts with the floor. The sharp sound fills the largely empty room before fading away to silence once more. Falke stands and waits for further instructions as she watches the ball roll back and forth until finally ceasing all movement.

“It still hurts.”

“...Hm-?”

“My head. You asked me before if it still hurt.”

Falke turns slowly to look at her. She's learned by now sudden movements make her Gestalt overseers nervous, so she takes great care not to worry them.

The woman is not looking at her, though she does not appear to actually be writing anything in her notes, simply fidgeting about.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I wish there was something I could do.” Falke decides to sink down to her knees in hopes it will make her a little less intimidating. She doesn't want to scare off the closest thing she's ever made to a connection. She owes it to the scientist to be as accommodating as possible, given the state she was in because of Falke.

“What are you doing?”

“It's easier to talk if we're at the same level, doctor. I thought you might appreciate it.” She tries to smile but worries there's no point to the gesture. Falke notices the Gestalt glance back at her, and can only assume she sees.

“We aren't supposed to be talking at all,” she says, though she is making no attempts to stop the conversation.

Falke chuckles, nodding. “If I wasn't meant to talk to people, then why was I given the ability to speak? Surely, speech is unnecessary if I am able to influence those around me with only my mind.”

“That's an interesting point. One I don't have an answer for.” She looks up to see Falke still smiling, eyes brighter than normal. She thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath. “You're lonely,” she observes.

Falke nods. She is a sentient being with little in the way of interactions with others. It has started to gnaw at her more and more each day.

“I'll discuss this at my next meeting and see what can be done about that. You're dismissed.”

Administration-Datenverarbeitung-Logistik-Replika: ADLR. That is how they introduce her to the Replika they've brought in from another facility. They tell her it will be a good way to test their compatibility. He is not a new model like her, last generation, but there had always been speculation he could perform better with proper Replika guidance. No such person had existed…until now.

They tell her she will get along well with him. That, mentally, he should be easily influenced by her, and that if she wants someone to interact with, this will be how she gets it. She is told there are no other options because once she is Commander, she will not have time for friends and other such nonsense as that. Seeing him for the first time makes her regret ever bringing up the issue at all. There's no reason for it. He's a perfectly unremarkable Replika standing no taller than the average Gestalt and offering little else but his presence.

The way he looks at her makes her uncomfortable, but she can't put her finger on why that is. None of the Gestalts look at her with the same level of wonder. No, it's more than wonder, it is as if he is enamored with her. Love at first sight. The Gestalt scientists seem pleased by this development and decide this is a sufficient cure for Falke's loneliness, giving her no time to protest.

She no longer has any personal time to herself. Adler’s only purpose is to serve her, which means following her at all hours of the day. It also means sleeping in her room as there is no other space set aside for him. Falke tells herself she must adapt to this because, after all, isn't this what she asked for? Companionship in her off hours?

He does not understand personal space in a way she would prefer, but she finds it difficult to verbalize her wants. It is not a situation she has ever been in before, so more often than not, she is silent. She knows the scientists told her that Adler would be easy to manipulate with her abilities, but she is well trained, and only uses her powers when it is asked of her. It seems rude, she thinks, to exert her influence over someone for no good reason. She fears repercussions for misuse of her powers.

So instead, she pushes down her concerns and accepts this is her life now. She ignores the fact she knows he watches her sleep, and she ignores the thoughts she hears on accident. Sometimes it is difficult to not read people's minds now that the ability comes naturally to her. He thinks about her body a great deal, but since he has not done anything wrong, Falke does all she can to ignore it.

She feels nothing in return. She doesn't know what she is supposed to feel about him, but every conversation she forces her way through leaves her feeling empty. She tells herself she just isn't used to being around other Replikas yet, and in time, it will get easier like so many other things have for her. But she wishes it would happen faster.

He is sitting too close to her as usual, on her bed, and Falke is trying her hardest to simply ignore him. She misses her privacy so very, very much…

Adler says something to her, for which she only hums in response, hoping it will be enough to express her disinterest. It never is.

FKLR units will be judged on their actions, not by their words. These words echo in her mind as she stares vacantly forward. Her duty is to serve the Nation. Serving the Nation will require sacrifice. It will require moments of action that might seem overly cruel, but they are for the greater good. Her creator had made sure she understood this, that there would be times she would be asked to do things she might find questionable, but to trust she was doing the right thing. And nothing was off limits.

Training dummies do not bleed. They do not beg and apologize to an uncaring attacker. Falke has dismantled many in her brief time alive, and this feels no different. But she does not know why she does it; she cannot say what set her off. Was it a thought? A comment? A brief moment of unwanted contact? She does not feel any guilt as she looks at the thing laying crumpled on her floor. It is of no more interest to her than a discarded mannequin covered in red paint. Falke looks at her hand and realizes she is clutching soaked wires in her fist, though where she'd yanked them from she could not begin to guess.

She wipes her hands on her legs and crawls back into bed. For the first time since Adler had arrived, her room is quiet again, and she finally feels comfortable enough to sleep.

Falke is scolded for the mess and made to clean it up herself. She finds it surprising that she is not punished for what she did, simply for the aftermath of her actions. She helps the scientists who come to collect the body place it into a bodybag before it is removed. They ask no questions about the mangled figure and only leave cleaning supplies when they go.

She sets to work cleaning up the sticky, half dried puddle of coolant that leaked across the entire floor during the night. There is so much, spread across the tile and under her bed, that she feels like she is only able to smear it around with the rags she was provided with. Even so, she considers herself lucky that this is all that is expected of her.

As she scrubs diligently on her hands and knees, she notices unidentifiable flesh caught between the joints of her fingers. Falke knows it will be difficult to properly clean up, maybe even impossible without help from a technician. She tries to push the thought aside as she hears the door to her room open once more.

Someone steps inside, tracking footprints all over the half cleaned floor. Falke bites back the impulse to say anything, and she is glad for this when the person speaks.

“Falke,” the voice says, quick and sharp. It is her creator, the Great Revolutionary herself.

Falke flinches and keeps her head bowed low, suddenly ashamed of her behavior. “Good morning,” she manages, before adding, “ma'am.”

“I hear you broke your new toy.” She shifts her weight as she speaks. Falke suspects she's crossed her arms.

“It was…” calling it an accident might not be a complete lie, she hadn't meant to do it, after all, but it was far too brutal of a scene to suggest there was no intent whatsoever. “I'm sorry. I know everyone worked very hard to get a companion for –”

“Look at people when you're talking to them,” she barks, bringing her boot hard against Falke's shoulder and keeping it there.

Falke is considerably larger than her, but as she is now, groveling before her master, she is no more powerful than anyone else would be. She looks up at the woman for whom she shares a likeness, muttering an apology as she meets her eye.

“You made my shoes filthy with your little mess. Clean them,” she orders, twisting her foot back and forth before pulling back to let Falke sit up.

Falke carefully moves off of her knees and sits back, legs crossed. She is made painfully aware of her unusual stature once more, but instead of finding comfort in the protection it brings, she just feels awkward and out of place under the Great Revolutionary’s gaze.

The woman, without a word, places her boot on Falke's thigh and waits. Falke takes one of the few still clean rags and dunks it in her bucket of soapy water, ringing it out with one hand. She places her other hand against the woman's calf to steady her as she begins to spot clean as much of the sole as she can manage from their positions.

While she suspects the display is all for show, Falke sheepishly speaks up and says, “you might be more comfortable if you sat on my bed.”

She ponders the suggestion for only a moment, and, seeming pleased with Falke's desire to be obedient, moves to sit on the edge of the bed. She crosses one leg over the other, inviting Falke to continue with the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.

Falke doesn't think she's ever seen her creator smile before, especially not at her. The expression, however distant, spurs her on. She edges closer to the bed, taking her ankle once more before she continues to clean every tread free of dirt and blood. Her work is meticulous and loving as she thinks to herself no one has ever had the honor of tending to the Great Revolutionary like this before.

When she feels a hand on her head, she hesitates, glancing upwards. It is a nice feeling, one she's rarely experienced, but one she would like to earn again. She is not wearing gloves, as is often the case when other Gestalts touch her. It is simply wordless praise for her efforts.

But the moment cannot last long. Soon, her creator is rising to her feet and heading back out the door, leaving her with only one final order. “Hurry up and finish cleaning. We haven't got all day.”

“Hello, Ara. It's nice to meet you.” Falke smiles at the old Replika model. She tells herself she will do better this time around with her companions. She likes this one better than the last anyway, she thinks. Ara has an exceptionally quiet mind, and what thoughts Falke does pick up on are quite regular. She thinks of work and of her hobbies, quietly tending to plants in secluded areas of the facility. This particular unit has been working here for longer than Falke has been alive.

Like many others, she is, of course, impressed by Falke's stature. She is confused as to why she was relocated here at all, but ultimately she is relieved the person she was placed with seems to be nice enough. That thought Falke finds peculiar; that a Replika might be so concerned with how nice someone is.

“I'm sorry they didn't tell me what I was supposed to do with you. If… I had to guess, you're meant to replace my previous…” Falke hesitates on the last word, unsure what she should call the late Adler. Finally, she settles on, “assistant.”

Ara only nods, offering up a simple, “oh” in response. It is clear she has never been an assistant before, nor has she ever been separated from others like herself. Because of this, it becomes obvious she isn't interested in talking.

Falke finds it strange they'd be so quick to replace Adler after what she'd done to him, but she sees no point in questioning it. It has been a few days since the incident, and maybe they have decided it is worth giving her a second chance. She had proven herself with her creator immediately following the incident, so it makes a kind of sense.

“You have tools?” she asks, noticing the belt around her waist.

Ara nods.

“Do you know how to fix Replikas?”

She shrugs.

“Do you think you could help me clean the joints in my fingers? It's difficult to do it yourself. I'd ask the Gestalt technician but I'm afraid she'd be mad at me.”

Ara nods once more before Falke leads them off somewhere quiet where she may work undisturbed. It is a simple enough procedure, and her hands are larger than average, which she hopes will make them easier to work with.

Maintenance is an odd thing for Replikas. To be so vulnerable around another is a difficult task at the best of times. Any time she is operated on, it leaves her feeling strange afterwards. Lonely, almost. Empty. The technician usually just ignores her the entire time and is firm about not letting her linger afterwards. Ara, she thinks, isn't likely to do that.

Falke lays her hands on a table as she kneels on the floor, offering them up with no resistance. Ara says nothing as she begins to examine each joint to understand how she is put together. She will not need to remove any casing, figuring the wires inside will provide enough slack to clean between each segment without the need to disconnect any internals.

Ara does not comment on the gunk she scrapes out of her fingers, and Falke appreciates this small mercy. In fact, Ara doesn't even seem interested in its origin at all as she works. Falke can only watch her in a sort of awe as she expertly disassembles and reassembles each digit. Her expression does not change as she works, holding Falke's hand to better manipulate it as she sees fit.

Falke is almost disappointed when she finishes the procedure, but to her surprise, Ara does not move. Instead, she looks up at Falke, cocking her head to the side.

“Better?” She asks.

“Better," Falke replies, taking a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Ara remains seated as she lets Falke take her hand. She does not pull away, nor does she comment on the gesture.

Falke looks away, muttering an apology. She knows better than to behave this way. She has been chastised countless times before for trying to overstep boundaries like this. But Ara seems to think nothing of it.

“It's normal,” she says.

“It…is?”

“Yes.”

“No one’s ever told me that.”

“They never do.”

Falke furrows her brow, wondering why her Gestalt masters would neglect to explain a normal Replika reaction to her. She tries not to think about it as Ara gently squeezes her hand in return, all the while expression never changing.

She soon finds she much prefers the company of Ara to anyone else in her life. Unlike Adler, her thoughts are easier to handle. She is respectful of boundaries without needing to be told. And, above all else, she is knowledgeable about Replika life. Overtime, she grows comfortable enough to talk and length, and she tells Falke about different unit types she has met over the years that Falke has only read about in passing. Of EULR, and STCR, and STAR units. How, despite what they are told, some units are nicer than others. Some she could be friends with and others she tried to avoid.

She speaks of relationships and how Replikas form bonds with one another that fall outside of expected parameters. Sometimes they are ignored, other times punished. In rare cases, they are encouraged for enhanced unit performance. ARAR units are encouraged to befriend EULR units because EULR units can read their emotions better than anyone else. Falke jokes that she is also very good at that, thanks to her bioresonance.

Ara sleeps in her room the same as Adler before her, and follows her around during the day. She finds herself wishing that Ara would follow a little closer. That she wouldn't sleep so far away at night. When they watch movies, Ara always does so from the floor. She says she doesn't mind, and Falke knows she is telling the truth, but she wishes she was not.

The scientists do not like Ara. Or, perhaps more accurately, they do not like her relationship with their beloved FKLR unit. They see Ara as beneath her, and cannot understand why *this* one is who Falke has chosen to keep around. ARAR units are worthless to the Nation, holding no more value than materials used to build them. They are meant to do hard labor and to be disposed of when they break. Ara is able to ignore the constant remarks, but they begin to grate on Falke's nerves.

She cannot read their minds, but she does not need to when they speak their hatred so openly. She cannot exert her will over them, but she does not need to when she can exert her strength.

A comment is made, one day, as she and Ara are sitting by one of the rare windows in the facility, looking out at the dull landscape of rock and concrete, bathed in bright, artificial light.

“You were supposed to have killed this one by now.”

She knows the comment hurts Ara, who still manages to avoid a visible reaction. But Falke knows what she's thinking. How uncomfortable the idea is that she is a sacrifice given to their new pet as a plaything to break.

Falke can no longer stomach it. With a flick of her wrist she sends the Gestalt backwards through the air and into a nearby wall. She hears a bone snap on impact, an arm, she figures, by the way their thoughts shift to the pain they're trying to make sense of. She rises, placing her hand on Ara's back to guide her back to their room before she takes things further and does something truly regrettable. Falke keeps her close the entire time with no resistance.

“It's not fair,” she whispers, maybe more to herself than to Ara as they step back into their room together. “The way they treat you. The things they say. You don't deserve it…”

She moves to give Ara her space, but finds the shaken Replika stopping her from parting. And so Falke lingers. She pulls Ara to sit on her bed, and then to lay by her side.

“I'm sorry,” she says, pressing her head against the side of Ara's who is looking up at the ceiling. Her hair smells of machine oil even after all this time away from her old post. “I know I shouldn't have done that. But it's not fair.” She emphasizes the word as if it will better prove her point. Ara does not often think about what is fair and what is not, only focusing on the way things are in the moment.

“Thank you,” Ara says after a while. She turns to lean her head against Falke's.

Falke wants to say more but does not allow herself to speak. She wraps her arm around her companion's waist, closing her eyes. There is much she could still say. Promises she could make but never really keep. Plans they could make to do…what? There was nothing left but to pray for mercy and enjoy what peace still lingered between them.

“Falke, please don't make this any harder than it needs to be. I don't like this anymore than you do.” The large metal collar hangs over the scientist’s hands as she stares back at him in disbelief. There is no reason to obey in the moment, but she suspects a worse punishment awaits if she does not. Her gaze shifts from confusion to hatred as she willingly sinks to her knees, still a head taller than the man even like this, as she allows herself to be restrained.

He apologizes again, but Falke does not answer as a heavy chain is hooked to her collar with the other end fed through a small hole in the wall. She does not know where it leads, but soon, the chain catches and pulls through the wall with a slow mechanical grind muffled on the other side. She is unceremoniously yanked backwards until her back nearly touches the wall. She cannot stand nor can she fully sit, leaving her to fumble about trying to right her body with little success.

The man looks at her once more before turning away. She thinks his expression is that of pity, but it is too brief to be certain. He closes the door behind him, sealing her in darkness.

She does not know if this room was designed for her, or simply repurposed because of her. It is barely more than a closet, able to comfortably hold four normal sized Gestalts, she guesses. It is a pointless train of thought, but she has nothing to do but think.

Falke was not told how long she will be held here, but she suspects her punishment will last long enough to make her beg for freedom. She is meant to be prideful, but even she must have her limits. What better way to test them than this?

And so she sits and thinks. She thinks of her behavior leading up to this moment. She thinks of the betrayal she feels in being chained up like an animal. She thinks of her creator, and how she will feel seeing her like this. Falke is like family to her, is she not? They share a likeness, and for Gestalts, that is important. It means nothing between Replikas but she is no common Replika, and therefore it is something to hold on to.

She dreams of a life that is not her own. Of places she's never been and of languages she does not understand. She is a woman of great power but she has no reflection to speak of, and no name is ever uttered. People serve her, and she leads them with everything she has. But she is not Falke in those moments.

Sometimes she dreams of Ara, and every time she wakes wishing she hadn't. The loneliness she feels when she wakes up hurts more than the awkward angle she is forced into. In her dreams, they are happy. They are together. And they are safe. Falke wakes in her old bed with Ara at her side, and she enjoys the briefest moment of joy as she is convinced it is all a bad dream. They exchange words she will not allow herself to hear and then she opens her eyes to darkness. She does not know what happened to Ara and does not dwell on it, happier in her ignorance.

Days pass in her confinement, and it becomes difficult to tell if she is awake or asleep. She can no longer feel her legs, and she is certain the joints have locked up entirely. Sometimes she thinks she feels other people nearby, but even if she tries to speak to them, nothing ever comes of it. They are nothing but shadows lingering in front of her unfocused eyes.

Falke entertains the idea that she might die in this room. Punished for a crime she's all but forgotten, likely observed by some hidden camera as she rots away. Alone. She hopes the overseers are amused by what they see. Delighted to watch her sit and whither away as her body's systems desperately inform her something is wrong and she needs immediate care which is not coming.

A sudden electric shock rushes through her skull, jolting her head upright with a hoarse yelp. The pain forcibly reconnects her mind to her body as she becomes keenly aware of all her senses at once.

“Well, it seems that works after all.”

Her creator stands before her, holding a small black device in her hand. Falke reaches towards her with one feeble hand before she is hit with another painful jolt.

“You're an embarrassment. Look at you. You had so much promise and you were going to throw it all away. And for what?” She reaches out, grabbing Falke by the hair to yank her head upright.

It does not register as pain amongst everything else her body is experiencing. She blinks a few times as if it will help the ache in her head.

“You represent the Nation. You represent me. Do you know how bad you made me look? Hmmm?” She pulls Falke's hair again. “What kind of superweapon are you? You were really going to throw everything I've given you away for some…some worthless piece of machinery?”

Ara, she thinks as her chest tightens. She will not ask. She already knows.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ma'am.” Falke forces the words out in hopes they will spare her from further misery.

“I should have you decommissioned. There's no reason not to. You're a failure. Just like all the others.”

“No, no I'm… I am not a failure. I won't let you down again. I promise.”

The Great Revolutionary thinks for a moment before she slips her arms around Falke's neck. The brief embrace is cut short as she unlocks Falke's collar only for her body to collapse under its own weight as days of strain catch up to her all at once.

“See to it that you don't.”

Falke finally understands what it means to be a Commander. The people she controls are tools to be exploited for the good of the Nation. If she will not be afforded special treatment, why should they? Compassion is weakness. It causes one to behave in unexpected and dangerous ways. Ruthlessness is rewarded. Violence. Cruelty. Her only purpose is to function as a weapon, and to see to it those below her do the same.

She is given a small troop of Replika soldiers to command, and she does so mercilessly. Though they are only meant to run drills, Falke punishes any failure as seriously as if it were the real thing. Her overseers are pleased by this development, and they tell her they have enough data to begin production on her line.

Atop her head, she is now adorned with the same laurel crown as her creator. A symbol of her status as leader. But it is nothing but a cruel facade. Made of metal and welded into her skull, it connects to a device now to be standard in all FKLR units. Each delicately carved golden petal helps to carry an electric current through her brain and down her spinal cord. A shock collar for minor infractions. A killswitch when they grew tired of her.

Ara is never mentioned around her again, and the only evidence she ever existed at all are Falke's fading memories of her. In the end, she was nothing but a sacrifice, killed by Falke’s impulsive, violent nature. Something she is rewarded for when it is properly directed. At her underlings. At her enemies. No, the Nation's enemies. She is just their means to an end.

There is no fanfare in it as all the pieces fall into place. This had always been the goal. The Replikas that serve her are terrified of what she is capable of and quickly fall in line. They look at her with fear and awe, and she looks back with disdain. Their deaths will mean nothing to her. And they will die. Pointless, violent deaths in a bid for control against the Empire, an already waning power. Few Replikas still serve the Empire, and those that do are first and second generation. Nothing more than worthless machinery. In many ways, weaker than the Gestalts they die for. She feels no pity for them when she is shown images from Vineta, a planet of great interest to both states. Their deaths are necessary. Her death will not be.

“You've come a long way, Falke.” The Great Revolutionary smiles up at Falke, but she does not return the expression.

Her gaze is stern now, all of the time. Every interaction she has with other people is not a syllable longer than it needs to be. She stands and waits for her to continue speaking or to finish the conversation, and this fact seems to please the Gestalt.

“I wanted to show you something now that you've officially been deemed a success.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow, but offers no further reaction.

Her creator chuckles, amused at how alike they've become in such a short span of time. That had always been the point. “Come,” she orders, leading Falke away.

She was born here. She ‘grew up’ here, but there are still many areas she has not seen. Most of the facility is a mystery to her, and one she no longer cares to understand. The things she is meant to know, she is told, all else is a waste of her time.

They walk in silence down several near identical gray hallways before descending down an elevator Falke barely fits in. She no longer makes comment on the fact the world is not meant for someone like her. She slouches over as always until they reach a sub basement. It is noticeably colder this far down, but neither comment on it as they approach an unassuming metal door.

Her creator swipes an identification card through a panel at the side of the door before opening it. Freezing cold air spills out into the empty hallway as the woman steps inside and flicks the light switch on. Falke waits until she is invited instead, ducking under the doorframe and pausing to observe her surroundings.

The walls are lined with several large machines, each with a small window at approximately eye level with Falke. They are humming in quiet unison with a purpose unknown to her. In a way, they resemble coffins the longer she looks, though she dare not approach one to see what lay inside.

“Your predecessors,” her creator says as she gestures towards the machines. Falke remains silent, so she continues. “Such is the case with all Replikas. Though, other Replikas aren't permitted access to information such as this. But you're different. You're special.”

“Are they dead?”

“Most of them,” she says, watching Falke cautiously approach the wall to peer inside at one of her failed siblings.

They all looked the same to her. Frowning, she asks, “why keep them?”

“For reference. We always hold on to our failures until we stop making them. After that, they are disposed of to make room for the next creation.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because,” she clicks her tongue, “you are to know everything about those you command. Including all of the unsavory parts they don't know about. And what better way than this?”

Falke brushes her hand over a pane of glass to clear the fog from it to better stare at her sleeping reflection inside. “You said,” she pauses, “you said most…of them are dead. What about the others?”

That had been the right question to ask, it seems. The Gestalt nods. “How observant of you.”

Falke watches as she approaches a pod to input a code on a small keypad. She steps back as it hisses to life, followed by the distinct mechanical thunk of several mechanisms clicking into place before, finally, a door swings open.

The FKLR unit inside falls forward, trailed by dozens of wires connecting her to the device behind her. She is dazed, but gradually, she seems to be coming to her senses as she looks around the room. She sees Falke first, and makes a weak attempt at crawling towards her.

“Are you… are you here to help…me? They told me it would just be for…just a little bit. Can you hear me?” Her own voice says to her, trembling, pathetic. Her expression is almost childlike in its naive desperation as she looks up at an uncaring mirror.

“Pitiful thing, isn't it?” Their creator says, placing her boot on the FKLR unit’s back. “Take care of her.”

Falke frowns once more as she realizes she is being offered a firearm, one she does not take immediately.

“I know you've fired a gun before. Prove to me you can do this.”

She listens to herself whimpering on the floor, begging for a different outcome. The FKLR unit is promising to be a good girl this time. She will listen. She will work harder. She will do all of the things she should have done when she had the chance but failed to do. Her crying is cut short by a single gunshot.

Falke says nothing as she returns the gun.

“Well done. I'm proud of you, Commander Falke.”

#signalis #signalis falke #fklr #signalis fklr #i really hope i didn't mess up anything copying this over #i didn't realize there was s limit to how much text you can copy paste

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gloomzombie · 2 months

Text

I'll Bury You For This

Pairings: Jeff the Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None(?)(( Let me know if I need to put any!))

Word Count: 4,276

Chapter Four: Follow You

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

August 20. 10:23 pm.

“So, how’s school going for you, Y/N?” The question is one I’ve been asked thousands of times before, all from John, and all usually around the same time; but coming from Ms. Taylor’s comforting voice doesn't fill me with unnecessary anger. I take a bite of the reheated spaghetti and look up at her. She sits across from me at the small dining table, and Gage sits on my left, his gaze and focus on his food. Part of me wishes he were focused on me, but the other part knows it’s selfish to think that way- even when I can’t get them out of my head. “It’s going fine, thanks. So far, the work’s been pretty easy and I’ve got enough friends to enjoy it.” It’s only partially a lie. I have enough friends for me, though I’m sure three- maybe four now that I’ve properly met Stacy- isn’t what anyone else would consider “enough friends.”

She smiles at me, her lips now wiped clean from the red lipstick she adorned earlier. She’s not eating with us, only drinking sips of her red wine. Gage told me this is normal if she’s gone out; sitting at the dinner table and chatting with him about his day and what he’s thinking, even if she already ate. It’s such a nice thing to do, and on days where I mope wishing John could’ve been better, or wishing I had a better dad in general, I could see myself wanting this with him- or with a better parent- or maybe Mom. If she were still here, would she have stayed with him? If she did, would she still stay even after he started losing his memory? Would he be a better person if she were with us?

I shake the thoughts from my head, focusing back onto my plate in front of me. I can’t cry in front of her again, and I definitely can’t in front of Gage. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad you have good friends to hang out with.” She smirks as she glances at Gage, then back at me. “And a boyfriend.” Gage’s head snaps up to her, his face all pink. How sweet. “Mom! I told you he’s not my boyfriend.” He argues, though not strongly, his face turning brighter with the words he speaks. She just smiles and giggles. “Mhmm, whatever you say, baby.” She leans over and places a kiss on his cheek, to which he leans away from. “Momm, please,” He spluttered, exasperated. She just peppers kisses all over his cheek, ignoring him. I can’t help the smile that creases my lips, watching them silently. I can see how he could be embarrassed by her, but really, he’s so lucky to have a mom like her. She giggles and pulls away. “Fine, fine.” She readjusts in her seat, a proud smile tugging at her lips. Gage lets his messy bangs fall over his face, though his hair’s not long enough to cover the smile that mirrors his mothers.

August 20. 11:12 pm.

After dinner, Gage practically drags me up the stairs with him, his hand never loosening its grasp on mine. His mom only smiles at us as we go, which makes a blush rise up my neck and into my cheeks. As he leads me to his room, I can’t help but smile. He’s gotten more confident with me, I can tell. God, why does that make me feel the way it does? I shut the door behind me and he reaches his arm past me, twisting the lock as he looks up at me. I smirk down at him, his beautiful sage colored eyes gazing into mine. My smirk softens into a smile and he seems to notice, a light pink tint grazing his cheeks, his nose, the tips of his ears.

The buzz of the alcohol has worn down by now, having been a few hours ago; but nonetheless, the adrenaline I feel right now is almost unbearable. In one swift motion, I wrap my arms around his waist and hoist him up into my arms. He squeaks and his legs wrap instinctively around my hips, his arms around my neck. I press my lips up against his, him responding in kind; kissing me back almost as passionately, though I can still feel the shyness of it. I waste no time in carrying him to his bed, laying him in it and breaking the kiss. His eyelids flutter open, his green eyes dark in the dim light; the only light being the deep, navy blue lamp on his bedside table. I need him.

His limbs never tear away from me, and they pull me onto him, as he gazes up at me with those fucking eyes. The way he’s looking at me now is something I’ve desperately wanted for years. He’s so fucking addicting. I kick my shoes off, letting them fall wherever. He watches me intently with an undeniable blush grazing his soft, delicate features as I sit up in his lap and pull my shirt up and off of me. I throw it on the floor, keeping eye contact with the boy underneath me. I can feel him already, a pulsing feeling against my leg and I don’t even try to hide the smile that makes its way onto my face. I lean down to kiss his neck, some of the strands of my hair falling and brushing against him.

“Please, Y/N.” He whispers, his voice a tad higher than usual. I look up at him. Fuck, did I go too far? I got so caught up in the feeling of him; the feeling of just being with him, that I didn’t pay enough attention to what he may be feeling. “Everything alright, Gage?” I ask, bringing my head up a bit so I can look down at him comfortably. He glances up at the ceiling, resting his head down on the pillow. “I..I think so. I just…” he hesitates, and I can feel the nauseating wave of guilt wash over me. I chew on my bottom lip, but I don’t tear the skin as much as I’d like to. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

The heat in my cheeks spreads to my ears and I feel so uncomfortably hot. I sit up, still in his lap, but giving him space if he so wants it. “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I-” “No. Don’t do that.” He rises to sit up, his full focus on me; with his hands sliding down my arms to intertwine his fingers with mine. “I…I want everything you’ve done, and everything you want to do.” His face can’t get any redder, so evident under the blue light. I feel the relief flood over me, drowning out the guilt from before. His eyes drop to the floor, but he brings them back up just as quickly as he dropped them. “I want you, Y/N, but not just like this.” He mutters, leaning his forehead against mine. I can feel his breath against my lips this way. “Are you saying..you want to go out with me?” I ask, and the question is one I’ve never asked before.

Despite sleeping with people in the past, I’ve never actually been on a date. I’ve gone out with people, sure, but they never saw me as anything but a friend; or a toy to use for sex and nothing more. The thought of going out with Gage runs through my mind, and my body reacts; my heartbeat thrums in my ears, a repetitive thump, thumping sound; my stomach feels like it's churning- but not in the bad way I’ve grown so accustomed to. He smiles his sweet little smile and I can’t deny the way it makes me feel so nervous. “Yes, Y/N. I’ve wanted to for months, maybe a year now.” I smile sheepishly.

Oh, yeah. I forgot Gage had his eyes on me for months before he got the courage to talk to me. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him before, but I guess it makes sense; we both prefer to stand on the sidelines, unnoticed by the crowd. I just wish I had noticed him sooner. “Then, let’s go on a date.” I speak nervously. The words are foreign coming from my mouth. I’ve never been asked out before, and never asked anyone else out either. He adjusts to sit up straighter, and I slide off of his lap, sitting in front of him, though his hands never break from mine. “I’d love that.” He shakes his hair out from behind his ears, his bangs covering his eyes; but I catch the sudden color in his face. He’s still so nervous around me, as I am with him. I laugh; a real laugh that makes me feel so light.

He smiles, a wide and open smile. “What?” He asks and I shake my head, still laughing. “I just..I don’t think I’ve liked anyone the way I like you before.” I squeeze his hands, warm in mine. He flushes and giggles. “I could say the same to you, lover.” Lover. The pet name leaves me feeling so fuzzy. My stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. I close the small gap between us, pressing my lips against his in a way I haven’t with anyone before him. I can feel him smile through the kiss, and I smile too.

August 21. 1:24 am.

“Wait, you’re telling me with all of those bands you like, you’ve never been to a concert before?” Gage asks as he sips his tea, sitting in a booth opposite from mine. I shake my head. “Nope. I mean- I wish I had of course, but…” I gaze at the floor of the dimly lit 24-hour cafè. “I’ve just never had the money for it when they do come here.” A lie. I hate to lie, especially to people I actually give a shit about- but really, there’s no way around it with the way I have to live. I don’t want to drop my shitty situation onto him, so it’s so much easier- nicer- to lie.

He nods. “I get that. Where’d you say you work again?” He wonders aloud, tilting his head. I take a bite of the semi-warm chocolate chip cookie in my hand. “Library. I’m the assistant,” I place the cookie down. “Y’know, putting books back where they belong and shit.” He smiles sweetly, and I can’t help but to smile too. “Awh, do you like that? I know you read a lot.” I sigh, leaning against the cushiony booth behind me. I love the way he just knows stuff about me.

“I do, actually. It's good pay and when there’s nothing else to do and no people that need help, I can read.” I pick up my glass of coke and take a few sips of it. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been wanting to get into reading lately,” his fingers tap lightly on the mug in his hands. “I just don’t really know where to start.” I perk up at that, placing my glass down. “I have a lot of books you could read!” I smile sheepishly. “The first and only piece of furniture I bought was my own bookcase. I started getting too many books, they all couldn't fit on my desk anymore,” I could feel my face heat up.

He giggles, making my face feel even warmer. “That’s..really cute actually.” I huff. “Hey, you’re supposed to be the cute one,” I argue teasingly, finishing the last bit of my cookie. He shakes his head, giggling some more before taking another sip of his tea. “You can be cute sometimes too.” I shake my head too, giving up.

We continued talking for a bit in that shabby little diner. I’m still surprised his mom let us go out so late. John doesn’t even like me going out past sundown. Even though it’s been only a week of talking to him, I think I’m starting to really like him. I can’t let myself rush into this like I usually do, though. If Gage is good for me, the last thing I want to do is mess that up. The walk back to Gage’s house is silent- a comfortable silence. His hand is warm in mine, contrast to the chill of the late summer breeze. I can’t stop smiling until we reach the door.

He takes out his keys and unlocks it, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. He smiles at me and takes my hand again as he leads me inside. I don’t smile back, my cheeks are sore from all the smiling I’ve already done. I shut and lock the door behind me. He takes me upstairs and into his room. I take off my shoes and place them neatly by his door, watching as he does the same.

I sigh as I lie down on his comfy bed. It’s much nicer than mine, soft but firm. Mine is missing springs, dents in the mattress where they should be. “I’m gonna take a shower.” I look over at Gage and he’s pulling his sweater over his head. I can’t help but smile at the sight, my cheeks screaming in protest. I’ve never seen him without it. His t-shirt hangs loosely on his thin frame, making him look smaller than he already is. “I didn’t think you could look any cuter.” I move to lay on my side, resting my head on my hand. He smiles at me, though I can see the light blush at his ears. “Shush. Do you want one after me?” I think for a bit. I probably should. “Yeah, sure. As long as I get to listen to music.” He giggles. “If you want. I won’t take long.” He takes out some clothes from his drawer, then goes to the bathroom in his room. He shuts the door and I pick up my phone. I turned it off a while ago, so I could enjoy my time with Gage.

I turn it on, chewing on my lip as I wait for the android screen to change. As soon as it does, practically a million notifications pop up. I groan, already knowing where most of them came from. I scroll through and swipe away all the missed calls and messages from John. There’s no point in responding now. I’ll send him a message in the morning. I get rid of all the youtube notifications. I don’t really feel like watching any of them. I stop when I see Xander’s name.

August 21. 12:34am.

Xander: Hey Y/N. We need to talk. Meet tmmr at 2?

I can’t help but stare wide-eyed at the message. He hasn’t texted me since…June 7th- when he asked me to come meet him at the mall with his now ex girlfriend. What is it he wants to talk about? We’ve needed to talk for the past 5 goddamn months. I swear to god, if he wants to talk about some dumb shit again, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from blowing up on him this time.

I roll my eyes and text him back. Despite being really annoyed, I really do want to talk with him. Even if he wants to talk about dumb shit, I’ll make him listen to me.

August 21. 2:13am.

okay. where?

As I’m placing my phone down, the screen lights up again. My eyebrows furrow. Xander messaged me back already? Bitch must be desperate.

Xander: How about that bookstore you always wont shut up about?

Okay, consider me confused. He’s never wanted to go to the bookstore, let alone go somewhere that I like. I sit up, texting him back again.

works with me, but why there?

Xander: Idk. Thought youd like that ig. Could get lunch after. I’ll pay

i cant say no to free food

Xander: K. C u then

C u

I hear the sound of the door swinging open and I look over. All thoughts of Xander escape my mind as I gape at the boy by the door. “Told you I wouldn’t take long,” Gage mumbles as he dries his hair with a towel. I can feel the bite of the blush rising up my cheeks. “I didn’t doubt you.” I look back down at my phone for just a minute, clicking out of the messages app and opening my music app. I look back at him and he’s shaking his head. Adorable. I stand up, sliding my phone in my pocket. I walk over to him and he flushes as I get closer. “You look so pretty,” I smile before placing a small kiss on his lips. His face goes pink and the bathroom light illuminating his face doesn’t hide it at all. He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Take your shower, dummy.” He goes to the edge of his bed, kneeling down to open my backpack. I chuckle as I watch him take out my clothes. I wonder how he’d look in them.

After my shower, I look in the mirror as I dry my hair. I sigh, leaning closer to look at the deep purple lines under my eyes. They’ve been getting worse even though I’ve been getting…okay sleep. Could be stress, I guess. Or maybe it’s the nightmares finally catching up to me. I turn my gaze away, tossing the towel into the hamper by the door. I turn off the light and open the door. Gage is already in bed, his phone placed on the bedside table. He moves his arm over the blanket, lifting it up. “I’m tired. Come sleep?” I smile sheepishly and place my phone on the table next to his before sliding into bed with him.

August 21. 10:16am.

Sleeping in a bed next to Gage made the nightmare go away. I didn’t dream or anything, but that’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while. I look down at the boy beside me. The light peeking through his curtains bathes him in a light that makes his skin look like it’s glowing. The sight takes my breath away. I move my hand up to brush his bangs out of his face slowly, pressing my fingertips against his face. I don’t dare move anything else. I don’t want to wake him up. I let out a silent breath. I try not to think of the messages I must have from John. I need to stop letting him ruin these moments for me, especially when he’s not even fucking here.

“You like watching me sleep? Creep,” Gage murmurs, his eyes opening slowly. My face heats up. “How could I not when you look this enchanting?” I smile. He closes his eyes again, a smile of his own touching his lips. “Shut uppp,” he whines, scooching closer to me. He pushes his face into my chest, and I laugh. “Going back to sleep?” I ask as I pet his hair. He hums and it vibrates my chest, making me feel so nervous. He mumbles something against my shirt. “What was that?” I chuckle. He pulls back, groaning. “I said I guess I probably shouldn’t. You need to go home sometime today.” He stretches, and I watch him. “Doesn’t that just mean we have to spend as much time together as we can until I leave?” I smile. He huffs and looks up at me. “I guess.” He tries but fails, a smile pulling at his lips.

After we share a few more kisses, we decide to get up and get something to eat. We walk hand in hand down the sidewalk for a while. He’s taking me to his favorite breakfast place that’s just outside his neighborhood.

My gaze is on the houses as we pass them. His neighborhood is the nicest I’ve ever been in, which doesn’t say much. All my previous friends have had run-down looking houses, and the others in their neighborhoods weren’t any better. The best was always Xander’s, until he moved out of his parents’ to live in a shitty garage-turned-apartment on his own. Xander. I miss Xander. My face droops a bit at the thought of him, and the thought of seeing him later today. I think Gage notices, but if he does he doesn’t say anything. I chew on my lip. I don’t need to think about him when I’m with Gage.

He leads me up to the door of the restaurant and opens it for me. I smile. “Already opening doors for me,” I smirk smugly. “Shhhh,” He shushes, walking in after me. The restaurant is small, about five tables inside with two outside. The smell of butter, syrup, and eggs fills the air with an oddly comforting scent. I walk him over to a table with two chairs in the corner, right by the window. He sits in the chair opposite of mine, and I look out the window. From here, I can really see how nice his area is. The sidewalks on either side are free from overgrown grass and cracks in the cement; no potholes in the pavement nor broken beer cans or burnt and stomped out cigarettes. Though he doesn’t live far away from me, we’re still miles apart.

“Hi, welcome to Granny’s kitchen. What can I get you?” I turn my gaze to see a short, dark skinned girl. She looks around our age, no lines of age gracing her clear skin. Her hair is braided and tied back into a low ponytail. There’s menus already laid on the table. How was I so focused on just the outside? I pick up the menu, my eyes scanning the laminated paper quickly to find something. I feel Gage’s fingers on my hands, sliding up and down so gently I almost didn’t catch it. “We’re gonna need a bit more time. Could I get a cup of herbal tea?” I look back up at him, and though he’s speaking to her, his eyes are on me- and he’s smiling. My face flushes and I resist the all too familiar urge to pull away. The waitress nods at him then turns to me.

“And for you?” She asks. “I’ll just have water.” She offers me a small smile. “Gotcha. I’ll be back with those drinks in a bit.” She turns away and heads to the kitchen door. I look at Gage, and his fingers are tracing mine as my hands still grip the menu. I bite my lip and look down. On the menu are a selection of breakfast, lunch, and dinner options. Though I prefer dinner or even lunch over any breakfast stuff, the chocolate chip pancakes catch my eye.

Under the breakfast options are breakfast sides to choose from. I can’t eat much, so I’m going to have to hope they let me get the kids. “Do you know what you’re getting?” Gage’s voice brings me out of my thinking. I look up at him. “Oh. Yeah, I think so. Um, do you know if they have an age limit for the kids portions?” I ask nervously. It feels so embarrassing to ask a question like that. What kind of 17 year old boy orders off the kids menu?

“No, they don’t.” And there’s that sweet smile. “I usually order off of it. I don’t have a big appetite most of the time,” his hand is still resting on mine and, instinctively, I pull my arm away. Something keeps me from letting him touch me this much, in this way; I don’t know what, but right now, I don’t really care to think about it. “Good. Me neither.” I respond, my gaze dropping back to the menu, though I’m done reading it. He doesn’t speak up again until the waitress comes up to the table, which makes me wonder if I did something wrong.

“Here’s your tea, and your coke,” She speaks as she places our drinks down in front of us. She smiles, and I can see she’s got those cool fang piercings. “Need more time?” She asks, glancing from me to Gage and back. “I think we’re good.” I look over at Gage and he nods. “I’ll have the kid’s chocolate chip pancakes with bacon.” I don’t usually eat out like this, so the words sound shaky and not right coming out of my mouth. Luckily, the waitress doesn’t seem to mind, or care. “Alright, and for you?”

Gage tells her his order, and she walks back off after telling us it won’t take long. The rest of the breakfast goes by quickly, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I like spending time with Gage, especially when it could be considered as a date, but I can’t help but feel this weird sinking feeling. As if something’s going to go wrong at any moment. That, plus I’ve been so anxious the whole time about seeing Xander in just a few hours. It doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right.

When I went to take the bill, Gage swoops it up. “I was gonna-” “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You paid at the diner last night,” He smiled at me before taking out his card. I bit my lip. I wanted to say he doesn’t have to. I wanted to say he shouldn’t pay for me because I don’t deserve that kind of treatment. But, as always, I said nothing.

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #creepypasta x you #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x male reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #male reader #x male reader #slenderman

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blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda · 1 year

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iwtv ep 5 rewatch thoughts

opening with the scene within which i have built a home and become a permanent resident. right here in the moment rashmand smiles stupidly and louis slonks (🤭) every last drop of his blood. how anyone thinks they’re boring idk idk idk

they are being clear here that this isn’t consumption for the sake of sustenance. this is bloodletting as sex play and as power play. Danny is not having dinner. so its clear that this isn’t feeding as a meal but it is feeding as sexual exhibition at its most delicious. Danny is reading about claudia’s violent acts via the written recording of her victim’s last words while loumand basically vampire fuck at the other end of the table. this is also setting up the sexual violence to come for claudia and also for louis.

i think it is intentional that louis is the one feeding from armand for several reasons. one being because of what lestat does to him, which we see later on. this is power play for louis in a setting where he has voluntarily and possibly in some aspects dubiously relinquished control over to his lover armand. also bc of the connection between daniel and armand. they are revealing rashid as armand slowly here and his and louis’ involvement with daniel in the past. Daniel isn’t dumb. they know he can figure out the inconsistencies of louis drinking from armand and louis drinking from damek. this leads to daniels curiosity about how armand tastes like and his weight and louis puts daniel’s hidden attraction out on display against his wishes to throw him off. and daniel orders rashid around to take back some power.

i also think it’s a call back to the power dynamic of their first meeting. louis has power over daniel, and it seems he’s the one in control of the entire situation but then he checks in with armand before moving forward. in this moment in the present dubai 2020 setting louis has power over daniel (regardless of him no longer being that naive young man) and he plays the role of the one with the power over rashid, but the power he is receiving is from armands 500+ year old blood that he is offering to louis as the character he is playing. lord take me.

i think it’s interesting that daniel is feasting on claudia’s private memories but objects to louis reading and exposing his personal thoughts. even tho louis has shown time and again that he does that and would do it again. choices/consent is the big issue in this episode.

Daniel: man with green vest: please no. man with fat fingers: please stop. window washer: i can’t die like this. woman with purple shoes: please. boy with inner tube and dog: let my dog live. please no. please stop. stop. oh here’s a good one—man in the last row of The Son of Sheik picture show: You said you had cigarettes.

this is the first recounts we hear him read from claudia’s journal—claudia, who did not get a say in whether her voice and story be used by louis, armand and daniel in this way. He reads this and it’s clear that he [daniel] hadn’t actually consented to being the voyeur of loumand’s sex play given his visible discomfort/agitation. He continues anyways, trying his best to focus on the task at hand and not his bisexual longing for the men at the other end of the table bc even with everything he is reading and witnessing he is still attracted to them in all their insanity and monstrosity.

im interested in the fact that he pointedly reads out (“here’s a good one”) the misleading nature of the last one. “You said you had cigarettes.” i think it speaks to the fact that daniel came here to dubai for a supposed second interview and is slowly but surely realizing he is getting something else entirely. he continues “School teacher, guard your heart. i’m trying to think of something more fucked up than this.” he could be just talking about what claudia has written, but i think it’s also the fact that this is the section of his reading that loumand have chosen to be overtly sexual in front of him for as he reads. all this and he doesn’t even know yet of rashid being armand and his role in claudia’s death, though i’m sure he’s having suspicions of everything by now. also that louis, with being faced with the piece of claudia he doesn’t like to acknowledge, the monstrosity of her vampire nature, focuses of drinking from armand the man who killed his beloved daughter (something he said about “i run to the bottle” etc. etc). it does in fact get more fucked up danny.

and when armand implies that daniel is no better by revealing the danger it poses on louis and exposing louis’ suicidality without his permission (“he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited”) and revealing he doesn’t even want this book to happen, louis fights back by leaning into his power over daniel and exposing his thoughts about armand, and continues to, even when danny makes it clear his thoughts were not being voluntarily shared—that he did not want louis in his mind at all. he even interrupts rashmand in the middle of telling daniel he wouldn’t let him near his neck to offer up more information abt rashid (much to armands annoyance) that clearly isn’t even true after reading daniel’s mind again when daniel just explicitly told him not to. and when louis does that daniel fights back by leaning into his perceived power over rashid—louis’ servant—by demanding more of something to drink without even looking at him. and at this armand picks up his lil ipad and leaves without even picking up daniel’s glass, being the one who is actually the most powerful in the room. this is crazy. this is actually insane.

all this and armand is the one who killed claudia!!!! the only one who doesn’t get to fight back against her agency being taken from her in this scene!!! i’m going to fucking throw up. who is bored with them!? they are literally putting on thee insane sexy bdsm emo freaks show like…

“ The Son of Sheik” also alludes to the upcoming sexual assault btw. It’s a sequel to “The Sheik” where the protagonist is the son of the sheik in the first film who falls in love with a traveling dancer Yasmine. He rapes her out of retaliation for having been kidnapped and later whipped, which he believes to be her fault bc she is falsely accused of it. like in this episode and like claudia, yasmine’s rape is strongly implied in the movie with the use of pointed language and a scene cut.

this scene closes out with daniel pointing out he can’t get to accurate statistics of claudia’s murders to corroborate her accounts whether he thinks its more or less than what she recounts im unsure. louis points out that he wouldn’t be able to get an accurate account anyways bc of their disposal practices and how cities tend to downplay the dangers within them. daniel wanting all the details and louis making it clear he will have to accept that he can’t always have all the details will be a point of contention later on as we know.

#iwtv ep 5 rewatch #louis de pointe du lac #rashmand #armand #daniel molloy #claudia #iwtv #mw posts #hoping this makes sense

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lix-ables · 2 years

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ꕤ — B. CHAN & H. HYUNJIN : THE THING BETWEEN ROOMMATES.

ꕤ — cw. mdni, smut,

i. mentions of watching/ talking about porn.

ii. [ reader is mostly dreaming - includes mentions of grinding, slight oral fixations, degradation, mentions of using collar ] etc.

iii. hyunjin listens to chan, teasing, dirty talk, etc.

ꕤ — one’s your roommate and the other is his best friend. you’ve been holding off for so long. but what happens when they hear you, wanting to have some fun, but it stays in your dreams?

ꕤ — WORDS. 1440 | OTHER WORKS

ꕤ — NOTE. this took time but, it's finally out - after hours of inspiration, hours of me hating my blog and a couple of breakdowns. i really hope this turned out well, and i hope you enjoy this ‹3

no one told you that having a guy as a roommate would be exhausting.

what you didn’t expect, was to have two boys constantly being in your apartment, staying up later than usual, and of course, with no sense of personal space.

you understand being up late. you've done that, of course, with your friends. but personal space was something they really needed to learn. and it wasn’t that you didn’t remind them, you did. they just chose not to listen. but the day they overstepped boundaries, was the day you didn’t think you’d be embarrassed.

at least not to the point where they both wanted to have some fun with you.

“you misheard me.”

“no one mishears a whine, doll. now tell me what you were doing before i caught you,” chan whispers as he leans against the doorframe of your room and looks at you. your eyes stare back at the figure in front of you, while still being on the bed, acting like nothing actually happened.

“i’m telling you, i didn’t whine,” you start to protest, a sigh leaving your tired body as you try to sit up straight. “it must’ve been something else.” chuckling, chan walks into the room and sitting down on the bed next to you. “then you’re watching porn and wishing it was you instead that was being fucked that good?” he raises an eyebrow at you, watching you squirm in your place, his eyes following the movements of your thighs pressing together at the mention of ‘being fucked that good.’

it was fun teasing you like this, he thought to himself. knowing what words get to you, what actions he does makes you groan inwardly and he’s seen it before. no matter how much you tried to hide it from him, or even his best friend hyunjin, who was always over - they noticed it. all of it.

“i didn’t say that -”

“yet you didn’t deny it, did you?” chan pokes.

“would you rather i bring hyunjin in here and get you to open that pretty mouth of yours? such a brat aren’t you?” chan sighs, shaking his head a little before tilting his head to look at you, his body is almost close to yours, you realize - closer than you ever thought you could get. sure, meaningless hugs and cuddles from chan when you got drunk didn’t count. it never did. but this? this was a whole new level for you, even for the boys.

“i’m not being a brat, stop calling me that,” you reply, clearly frustrated by him and also because you were stopped mid-orgasm when you were so close. another minute and you would’ve gotten out of the room. it was all because of that leather jacket he wore. why did he have to look so good? why did he have such attractive friends, which made it so much harder for you to focus on work, making you mix up orders?

“oh, i never called you that. i’m merely just observing your…” chan pauses, taking a minute to soak your expressions, posture, and movements, before letting his eyes rest on your face, a smirk forming on his lips. “…reactions to my words. seems like you want to be called a brat. you’d like it, hm? being called a brat. i wonder what else you’d like, pretty thing.”

chan stands up, adjusting his sweats before turning around to look at you. “i suggest you come up with some answers quickly before i get back home. maybe even finish that dirty little porn you were watching,” he looks around a little, finding your laptop tucked under your pillow, which was hastily pushed to the side. a smile rests on his face, thinking in his head that he in fact knew what you were doing. “maybe touch yourself a little, hm? play with that pretty little cunt of yours before hyunjin and i have our turn, yeah?”

when chan said that sentence, it shouldn’t make your core throb in the way it did just now. it shouldn’t have made you want him even more - maybe want both hyunjin and chan at the same time.

“thinking about our fingers inside you already?” chan says, interrupting your thoughts, making you look at him in embarrassment. “go ahead, pup. i won’t stop you. tell us about that porn, use your words, and we can make your wet dreams come true, yeah?” with chan’s words still ringing in your ears, and with your face now completely red from what he just said, you bring yourself to sit up, your body too shy to do anything - even follow the instructions chan gave you.

but the way he spoke to you, made you want him more. sure, you did find him attractive - because you’d be lying if you didn’t feel butterflies in your stomach and in your core.

your mind roamed to place you didn’t think would go before and before you knew it, you were dreaming - from thinking about being on your knees for those two boys that you barely even knew, to being ready to have a collar around your throat. sure, you’d settle for their hands, but the thought of you just straddling chan’s thigh, a collar resting around your neck, while hyunjin sat across you, his dick in his hand, thumb rubbing just the tip in teasing motions, his eyes never leaving either you or chan. especially when you whined, for almost nothing - until chan starts moving your hips, his hands gripping your body till it didn’t - you were moving on your own.

hyunjin lets out a groan at the sight in front of him, but a glare from the boy under you made him shut up, making him bite his bottom lip instead. he knew it was going to be red soon. but his hand never made an attempt to stop.

“baby, look at you being so fucking needy. and for something as just my thigh? pathetic, is it not?” chan asks, his hands are resting on your thighs now, pushing up the material with his thumb, until he makes you look at him, a whimper leaving you. “when you could so easily ask for my fingers, or even hyunjin’s cock. but no, you just want to be fucking pathetic, and grind your needy cunt all over my sweats.”

“why my dick?” hyunjin groans, his hand stopping from his current task, though it was torture for him. “oh you don’t want y/n’s tight hole to fuck? you don’t want to cum, is that it?” chan raises an eyebrow, asking hyunjin in a monotone voice. “and i didn’t ask you to stop, jinnie. continue teasing yourself for me, hm?”

“didn’t say that,” hyunjin mumbles, his fingers wrapping back around his cock, grunting at the pleasure he is feeling.

“good boy,” chan whispers, before turning back to look at you. “and i don’t think i asked you to stop either. you wanted my thigh, now fuck it like a needy little pup that you are.” his hands are now resting on the small of your back, feeling the low dip, feeling the way you arched your back slightly, chuckling at the way your fingers come to rest on his shoulders. you feel his fingers tugging on the collar that was on your neck, pulling your face closer to his own. his thumb rests on your bottom lip, signaling you to open, before shoving them slowly into your mouth, and you stare at him, wrapping your lips around it, just as you hear a mewl out of hyunjin’s lips.

“i asked you to be fucking quiet, jinnie. seems to me you can’t follow simple instructions.” chan grunts, clenching his thigh muscles, watching you reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing it slowly. “but, that’s fine. c’mere and look at how greedy y/n’s being - my thigh isn’t enough for you, huh? you need your little fingers to help you cum? go ahead, baby. slow and small rubs, yeah? tease yourself for me,” chan purrs, pulling his thumb out of your lips.

“aw look at that,” you hear chan say, probably to hyunjin. you're still groggy, you realise. “pretty thing fell asleep. did you dream good hm?” the door opens, and you feel the bed dipping low, before a body settles down next to you.

“you know,” chan starts, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair, tilting your chin up to look at him. “you never told us ‘bout that dirty lil’ video.”

“and those little fantasies of yours,” hyunjin finishes, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder, a smirk resting on his face.

ꕤ — taglist. @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @janvibutbetter @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @seobinniesshi @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @h0neydewmoon @hwan-g @hyynee @bubblelixie @nikkiplague @gibbysupremeacyisreal @rominari @jisubbyboy @jisuahh @w-a-v-ee @choisbswifey @strangevante @naeyonie @kawennote09 @meowmeowngl @jaylikesguavass @trashieforchannie @kxngyeosxngie @dahlia-94 @drugerlime

ꕤ — not able to tag. @killer-qoukka

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huihuiheart · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 D3: His Kitten - Lee Know

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Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Stray Kids Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Know/ Minho x Fem! Reader

Genre: Mafia Au, Smut

Summary: When Chan’s girl invited you who knew you could get under his skin so well, only now it’s time for him to teach you what the consequences of your actions are.

Warnings: Mafia Au, guns, side character getting shot, cursing, alcohol, edging, organsm denial, overstim (suggested), gagging (with panties), dom/sub themes, brat taming themes, spanking (reader rec), oral (both rec), degradation, dirty talk, use of the name kitten.

Word Count: 4134

Just when Minho thought he couldn’t get any more pissed you just had to go and do something to make him hate your guts even more. It was far too easy for you to do so and he felt that at this point perhaps you were doing it purely to mess with him. Though for most of the guys, this was lovely entertainment. To see the man they typically were so terrified of having someone show no hesitation in challenging him.

“Minho, I need you to focus. Now isn’t the time to let her get under your skin.” Chan scolded slightly, the boss not used to having to do so with his second in command. Not until you got here anyway.

“Not my fault she’s such a fucking pain,” Minho grumbled, quick to silence Jisung and Hyunjin’s snickers with a glare spelling death.

“Yes well, we need that fucking pain so try to play nice will you?” Chan asks with a brow raised and Minho puts his hands up in surrender.

“I am, but once we’re done with her no promises I won’t strangle the bitch.” He huffs only to freeze when the next laugh he hears is yours, and it sounds far too happy at that.

“Careful Min, some of us might be into that.” You tease with a wink, making your friend roll her eyes as she takes her place at Chan’s side.

“I’m starting to think perhaps I should have never introduced y'all.” She says rubbing a hand down her face as Chan rubs her back leaning over to kiss her temple.

“It’s alright love, she’s been helping exactly like we needed.” Chan tries to assure her which only makes Minho roll his eyes now, bristling as you speak up again.

“I mean when you need the best you need the best, so it just can’t be helped.” You shrug, smirking directly at Minho knowing it would start shit up again.

“The best? I don’t think so.” He scoffs only making your smirk all the more wicked.

“And yet you couldn’t do it, so what does that say about you? Oh yeah, that you’re not as good as me.” You know you have him where you want when his hands slam down on the table, standing to try and loom over you, though not intimidating you in the least.

Chan intervenes before anything more can happen, “Bicker on your own time you two, that’s not why we’re here.”

Your mouth opens to say something else, but the look your friend gives you telling you to drop it for now is enough to quiet you again. Listening to Chan update everyone on where they were on things and what he needed everyone to do. You had realized as soon as your friend asked you to come help why Chan had garnered so much support, he was a natural leader, enough so that anyone would follow him, even into this life of crime.

Once you were all dismissed, Hyunjin came up to you, looking at you softly, “ You gonna be okay? Going out into the heat of things yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Besides I’m sure a certain pretty boy will have no problem protecting me.” You gaze up at him with a smile as you step into his arms and Minho feels his blood boiling again.

Even more than your mouthing off at him seemed to irritate him, did the way you seemed to flirt so effortlessly with the others. Something he wondered if they had gone any further on, but would never dare to ask so as not to give the appearance of caring. He didn't, right? Just wanted to put you in your place most likely, there was no way he actually cared like that.

Hearing Hyunjin start to respond, just as flirtatiously no doubt, Minho had to walk off or he'd start something that wouldn't end well. Deciding to get his frustrations out he goes to the shooting range and practice, not that he needed it, but nothing called him quite like seeing the bullets hitting his mark. Besides they all had time to kill before they moved anyway, though the longer it had been since he saw you the more he wondered if you were passing the time with someone else or not. Curing under his breath when he noticed he missed for the first time in as long as he could remember, shaking his head to will the thoughts of how you wouldn't be that bad if someone just put you in your place, no doubt with a fat cock in your mouth to shut you up, hoping to regain his composure and be back to accurate again.

Minho attempted to keep himself occupied, not that there was a lack of things to do until it was time for everyone to head out. Minho rolled his eyes as soon as he heard you and Changbin enter, flirting as you did so. Changbin helped you with the bulletproof vest and to strap on your weapons as if you didn't know how and it made Minho scoff as he prepared himself. You froze as soon as you heard the sound.

"What? You got something to say Minho?" You call him out, making him turn and glare right into your eyes.

"Just find it irritating how desperate you seem to be for all their attention that you'll make up reasons you need them. What was Hyunjin not enough for you? Or did he smart up and leave you so desperate you had to see if someone else could fix it?" Minho's words make you burn, feeling embarrassed he said them in front of everyone so blatantly as if it was his place somehow.

"What the fuck did you just say to me Lee Minho?" You hiss out, standing taller to show him you aren't scared of him in the least, even if internally you are just slightly.

Minho comes over, nearly toe to toe with you to look into your eyes with as much fire in his, "You fucking heard me. What's the matter? Little kitty didn't like getting called out like that? Too bad. Maybe the next person you go to to make that all better will do us all a favor and put that mouth in its place too."

You grip his collar, stunning him by pulling him in enough to whisper into his ear, "If a stray bullet catches you out there, don't think it was an accident."

You push him away then as if he is burning you, he's about to pull you back to retaliate until Chan calls him to discuss some final details about everything. Returning only when you all have to get into the car. You ensure you have all your gear, tensing as Minho comes over but calming once you realize it's curt as he brings his own equipment so you both can look over everything and be able to just know where whatever you need when you get there is.

"I'll get all the doors and surveillance, you just get the heavier things. Focus outside the office first, I'll make sure security is down before I hand over the laptop. Changbin has the backdoor and Seungmin the front. Hyunjin and Felix will load everything up for us." Minho tells you before zipping his bag back up and going to the driver's seat.

Their rivals had just opened up an underground casino that was ruining business for Chan's crew but also encouraging other people to come to the area and try to settle down. Something that Chan wanted to stop at the source. So here you were with them, about to break into this place to take all the money from everything in their casino. Minho, as good as he was at hacking and infiltration, didn't know how to access these machines and such like you did, so he would handle the outside stuff while you manage the machines. Waiting until they had the place closed to look inconspicuous to the public eye surrounding the area before you all decided to strike.

Once inside Minho made quick work of the security systems while you started working to get behind the exchange counters and work to access everything behind there. Hyunjin and Felix come behind to bag things after you pop open each individual section. Then moving to any machines that deal with not just chips, but cash as well. Clearing all those out along with the tables before Minho steps aside to let you into the room to access the laptop. Working to get into their accounts and start clearing those out as well. Through two and onto a third when the shouting started up. Looking up at Minho in the doorway, who was already on alert with his gun in hand.

"Min they're here working hard to get in. What's the ETA?" Seungmin calls from the front door where Changbin has now rushed to help him hold it. Hyunjin and Felix cover the back as they finish loading up the car.

Minho looking back at you, "Well, what's the ETA little miss miracle worker?"

"Depends, do you want all 6 cleared or you wanna call it after number 3, boss?" You mock him as you're working as quickly as you can despite it. Gunfire echoing in now too as Seungmin and Changbin pull back slightly to continue to cover you.

Minho rocking as he debates, "Can you get them in 10?"

You huff a little bit, "Give me 12 and I'll make it happen."

"I said 10, that's all we're getting." Minho insists, firing off a little.

"And I said you're only getting them all in 12." You counter, working with one hand as your other hand is on your gun just in case you need it.

"Will you two stop bickering and focus before someone gets shot!" Changbin calls from outside, shutting you both up through the next while of chaos.

"You have one minute left, where are you at?" Minho asks and if you weren't so focused you'd have flared up at him as he comes over.

" Still have most the way to go on this one, because like I said I need 12." You rolled your eyes before you felt his hand on your hip.

"And I said you have 10." He grumbles, getting ready to pull you to move.

"Well then, do you want this or not?" You huff trying to pull a little bit away from him to make it happen. Pressing the last key down as Minho drags you out of the room.

He tucks you into his side, shooting off at those who had barged in as you all quickly filter out the back door. Seungmin 's shoulder gets grazed with a bullet right before Changbin slams the backdoor shut and blocks it while you all get in the car and rush off to head back to safety. In various safe houses until things calmed a little bit more. Minho sent an update text to Chan along the way.

"Seungmin you're going to go to the one with Innie, he has all the medical stuff," Minho announces, confusing you considering initially you were supposed to be with Jeongin. So where would you be now?

You were left to watch in horror as people filed out either one at a time or in pairs until it was just you and Minho left. Minho gave you a look when you cursed under your breath, though he smirked a little knowing he could get under your skin the same way you could him.

"Don't worry I promised Chan I wouldn't kill you, I wouldn't want to make his girl sad. She'd also probably have my head for it, so..." Minho attempts to assure you as you pull into the garage of the final safe house.

"I however made no promises." You grumble helping him get all the remaining loot out to stash, followed by your duffle of stuff while you're staying here.

"Oh, princess, you couldn't hurt me if you tried." Minho smirks, going to get a beer from the fridge and sitting down, "Han is going to come by and pick up the loot and drop off food. I told him to just get some pizza."

"What if I don't want pizza?" You raise a brow at him going over to get a beer yourself.

"Then you can make yourself something or be hungry. It's not my fucking problem." He shrugs, getting comfortable and making you roll your eyes.

"Whatever, where am I staying?" You ask, putting your beer down to pick up your duffle.

"The bedroom is in the back." Minho gestures vaguely and you start to head off before freezing as you register his words.

"The bedroom? As in one?" You pause looking at him and he chuckles and nods.

"Yep, just one." He answers and your brows furrow.

"So what? Are you staying on the couch?" Your question makes him laugh even harder.

"Oh absolutely not, and if you have a problem with that then you can stay on the couch." Minho shrugs his attention not on you in the least anymore. He finds a smile gracing his lips as he hears you mumbling curses under your breath, but go to put your things in the bedroom. Only moving to get up when there’s a knock at the front door, only you rush by to get to it first. Minho called after you and rolled his eyes, hand reaching back for the hilt of his gun as he quickly followed in case it was someone other than Jisung there.

“Hey Hanji!” You beam at the man before pouting dramatically at him, “You can’t by chance get me out of here with the loot can you?”

“Y/N that’s too dangerous. You’re stuck here for now.” Jisung tells you quickly before looking over your shoulder to catch the fire in Minho’s eyes and gulping, before adding a soft sorry. Handing over the food in exchange for the loot, about to say something more only for Minho to slam the door in his face and lock it. Turning to tell you off only to find you already gone with the pizza in hand.

By the time he finds you in the kitchen, he’s seething, feeling as though his skin itself is on fire. Coming up behind you and quickly closing the pizza box you had opened to dig into. Turning around to tell him off you’re silenced seeing just how dark his gaze is as he cages you in against the counter. You realize you’ve really crossed a line now, though what line you honestly aren’t sure of.

“Are you fucking serious Y/N? Was all the danger you put people in earlier not enough? Now you had to ask Jisung to put himself in danger as well as yourself for your fucking convenience?” Minho’s words are harsh and voice-cutting, but eerily quiet. The effect has you cowering beneath him for the first time and despite Minho thinking you need the lesson the sight has a bit of a stinging effect in his heart, though not as much as it makes his cock throb in his jeans.

“I’m sorry Min, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” You find yourself sniffling without realizing and you hear Minho sigh softly above you before you're stunned further by feeling him pull you into his arms and against his chest.

“I know you didn’t, but kitten, you need to think about these things because the risk is very real. Just think about what happened to Seungmin today and that was nothing compared to what it could have been. So when I tell you stuff you need to listen okay?” He’s pulling back, looking at your face, and brushing away the tears. As much as he wanted to see you cry this was not at all the reason he wanted it to be for. When you nod he kisses your forehead, “So you’re going to listen from now on then?”

“Yeah.” You nod again though there’s a hint of hesitance still there and Minho has to quickly hide his smirk noticing your personality still shows itself.

“Well then you should have no problem proving it to me while I punish you little kitty.” His words make your brows knit in confusion as you look up at him.

“Punish?” Your question makes Minho laugh a little bit and smirk. Turning you to face away from him and bend over the counter some, leaning in right beside your ear.

“Yep, after all, you were so bad today and you tried so hard to piss me the fuck off. So it’s time someone shows you how to be responsible for your actions. This is what that kind of behavior gets you.” He whispers against your ear, nipping at the shell of it before pulling back to immediately land a harsh smack to your clothed ass.

“Min!” You shriek and he chuckles, landing another few smacks before he speaks up again.

“What, you can’t take a little pain? This isn’t really as bad as what those men would have done to you had they got you. So take it like a good kitten for me, yeah?” He bites his lip when you nod, sniffling softly. Part of him wants to make you answer him verbally, but then again there would be plenty of time for that. The man takes his time in making your ass sore before pulling down your jeans, the rough fabric making the raw flesh sting a little bit more. Minho chuckles as two fingers brush feather-light over the damp patch of your panties, “What’s all this from? A spanking? Or is it because secretly you’ve wanted me all along?”

This time when you squirm, whining deep in your throat Minho isn’t having it. His hand crashed down onto your ass again despite the marks already left there, hissing out his next words harshly, “ Answer the question slut.”

“It’s..” You bite your lip, squirming again as your skin heats in embarrassment, “It’s you, love riling you up Min.”

“Fuck I know you do kitten, if only I knew it was because you wanted me to do this sooner. Would have put you in line a long time ago.” Minho responds with fingers rubbing over your clothed clit, far too light to get you anything like what you wanted. Though your whines and squirming don’t get that either, only rewarding you was a few more spanks.

“Please, Min.” You start to resort to begging quicker than either of you expected, but it excites him, making him chuckle. Also leading him to give you false hope as he pulls down your panties, though he doesn’t touch you yet, instead leaning over you and pressing your soiled panties between your parted lips.

“Oh none of that now, doesn’t matter how pretty you beg you’re not getting out of this not until I’ve had my fill of punishing you.” Then he’s pulling back and dipping his fingers between your folds finally rubbing at your clit with enough pressure to make your knees weak. He no longer seems to show any patience with the way his fingers are moving now, bringing you to the edge as quickly as he possibly can before his hands fly off you before you can reach your release. Throwing his head back with a moan as he hears the way you’re begging and whining around your panties, worried that he might just give into you before he wants to, but then he remembers all the times you pissed him off so much and he’s back to being sadistic.

He waits for you to calm down completely again before he touches you again, slow and soft at first as he circles your entrance before a finger slips in, thumb finding your clit and once he hears you moaning at everything again he speeds up bringing you to the edge quickly again before he pulls back once more. The cycle continues like that for what feels to you like hours, Minho giving you just a little more each time until your tears are streaming down your face and your legs can’t stop trembling due to your need. Then he’s reaching to grip your jaw and lift you up against his chest, removing your panties to hear your begs unfiltered now.

“Please Min I’ll do anything, please. Just don’t take it away again.” You’re pleading between hiccups and it makes him hum, you feel the way it shakes his chest and then he’s helping you to your knees in front of him.

“Suck me like the sloppy little slut you are and maybe I’ll give it to you.” He smirks at how you scramble to free him from his pants, lips instantly wrapping around him. Minho catches himself throwing his head back to moan, refusing to do so and lose the beautiful sight before him. You take his cock down your throat so well and he’s not sure if your tears are from the edging or this. You bring him to the edge quicker than he’d like to admit, but his pride makes him hold out a little longer, that and the fact that he wishes he could see you like this… use you like this, all the time. “Good kitty, gonna take all of me when I cum yeah?”

The way you moan wanting what he just asked so badly makes him smirk as he knows he has something else in store. Pulling out and cumming on your face instead, “Too bad that’ll have to wait until next time.”

The way you pout up at him with watery eyes makes him growl, leaning in to kiss you rough before pulling away to help you stand again. He takes you back to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and cleans you up while you watch him, brows furrowed.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” You look so saddened at the thought that Minho can’t help but to kiss you a little softer now, turning you to put some balm on your raw ass.

“You did so good for me kitten, but no. Not tonight. You still have to prove to me that you can be good for a little bit, yeah? So be good the rest of tonight and you’ll get a reward I promise.” He assures you, helping you into fresh panties and a shirt of his before taking you to sit on the bed, checking on how you’re feeling, “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

He goes to the kitchen to warm up some pizza for you both, bringing you some as he takes a spot beside you, letting you lean against his chest, his arm around you. Only when he finishes first, that hand moves to gently brush at your hair.

“You’re moving slow, sleepy?” He’s much softer now, a kind of soft that you haven’t even seen him be with the boys unless they were really injured. Yet, here he was with you like this now. When you just nod with a small yawn he smiles, “You had a long day, you need rest. I’ll be back to keep you warm.”

He assures taking your plates back to the kitchen and cleaning up before returning to your sleeping form and taking his place beside you. Your night is peaceful in his arms until your dreams start turning more erotic, the sight of Minho between your legs while pinning them to the mattress riddling your mind. Only when you slowly blink your eyes open do you find that the thought wasn’t a dream, not fully when you find Minho in that very position looking up at you with a fire in his eyes.

“Told you I would reward you if you were good.” He mumbles against your clit before sucking harshly, “Gonna make you cum once for each thing you were good for and took for me kitten.”

You hum in appreciation at the thought before the words fully register and you realize just how many times that implied he would make you cum. Looking down at him with wide frantic eyes you’re met with his smirk.

“Can’t wait to get started either. You’ll be good and take them all, yeah? That way you can finally earn my cock like you want so badly.” He can’t help but play a little coy as he talks so filthily to you and it makes you throw your head back with a moan already feeling close to your first orgasm of what would no doubt be a long full night of them, but then again you’d learned better than to deny him.

If you enjoy my work please keep in mind how much time and effort goes into it and show support through comments and reblogs, or consider buying me a kofi. (Caffeine fuels the chaotic gremlin in me who creates content.)

#kinktober 2023 #stray kids smut #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know x reader

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lunamadhatter99 · 8 months

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Just a little More

Part 2 of this

Summary: the morning after.

Warnings: none, I think.

I've been asked to do a part two, so here you go, folks🤘

As I open my eyes, I immediately recall the events of the night:the party, Billy flirting with me, taking a drunk Steve home, drunk Steve confessing his interest in me...

I look beside me, finding Steve still asleep, so I stand up, get dressed back in my own clothes, and decide to go downstairs and make some breakfast.

I open every cupboard in the kitchen looking for some flour and eggs so I can make pancakes and finally focus on something else and not Steve fucking Harrington admitting that he likes me... me.

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

As I'm flipping the pancakes on the pan, I hear footsteps nearing.

"Oh... hey" Steve says, I can hear a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Morning, sunshine" I say, slightly mocking him.

"My head is pounding" he complains, holding his head with a hand.

"There on the table is a glass of water and an aspirin, try it" I say.

"Thanks"

I keep on making the pancakes, when he walks next to me.

"You read my mind" he says eyeing the food in front of him. "I woke up with an insane need of pancakes"

I laugh as he takes one and put it all in his mouth.

He doesn't seems to remember last night... it breaks my heart a little, because maybe... maybe he didn't actually mean what he said.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah" I quickly answer "Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?"

"Headache aside? Good... I must've drank a lot last night, uh?"

"Yeah, and rather quickly." I tell him, "how did you get so drunk? And why?"

"I don't know..." he mutters, "guess I was jealous and lost it"

"Jealous of what?" I ask, not meeting his eyes.

He gently takes my hands away from the pan and the spatula, he makes me stand in front of him so I can look him in the eyes.

"Did I... did I say anything... last night?" He tentatively asks.

"Like what?" I ask back.

I really want to see of he has enough courage to say it again... if it was true.

He stares at me, hands still holding mine.

He just stares at me until a sweet smile appears on his face. He leans down and, without saying a word, he kisses me.

It catches me a little by surprise, but I kiss him back immediately.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, his hands find their way to cup my face and mine are on his chest.

We kiss and kiss and kiss until...

"Mh, shit!" I turn to the pan seeing some burnt pancakes.

"Oops" Steve mocks a little and I jokinlgy glare at him. "You got a little distracted there"

"I wonder why" I say back. "Well... we know which pancakes you will eat"

"Oh c'mon" he laughs.

I put everything back and take the plate with the non-burnt pancakes and place it on the table.

"So... I did say something last night" he states with a chuckle.

"You did" I smile at him "I wasn't sure you meant it so I didn't say anything"

"Of course I did." He reaches out to take my hand "every word... whatever words I said"

I laugh and squeeze his hand.

"You said that Billy and I were too close, that you really wanted to see me in your clothes, then proced to complain because you 'missed it' and.. that I am the girl you have your eyes on"

"That... that sounds like me, yes" he laughs, "it is true... you and Billy were really too close"

"That's why you got drunk?" I chuckle.

"Yeah... pathetic, isn't it?"

"A little. What about the rest?" I ask.

"Well, isn't it obvious that I meant that part too?" He shyly looks down at the food in his plate.

"You needed to get drunk to say something?" I tease him.

"Unfortunately" he shrugs "I wasn't sure you felt the same and... and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything." He explains.

"You could never, Steve"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course" I smile. "I do like you too, you know. And... for the record... it was Billy who was too close, I was trying to get away" I chuckle.

"Yeah... I should've figured"

"That you should've" I brightly smile at him and he does the same.

"How... how about you show me how good you look on my clothes?" He says casually with a small smirk on his face.

"What if they don't look as good as you think?"

"You'll just have to take them off... I could help" he winks and I fell my cheeks warming at the insinuation.

"Alright... that's how you wanna play it?" I tease back.

"Exactly"

I laugh rolling my eyes and stand up walking towards the stairs.

"You coming?" I ask.

He looks at me stunned, but quickly moves out of the chair to grab my hand and drag me upstairs.

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

"I'm gonna go outside" I tell Steve.

"Of course, love" he laughs at me, kisses my forehead, "I'll say hi to the team and I'll be right with you"

"Don't worry about, take your time" I smile at him. "I'll be fine"

"I know, my non-partylover" he winks.

I laugh and make my way to the back yard of the house.

I take a deep breath and admire the garden of whoever this house belongs too.

"I knew I would've found you here" a voice calls behind me.

I turn around.

"Oh, hi Billy" I politely greet him.

"Hey there yourself" he walks towards me "Harrington left you alone again, uh?"

"He's just saying hi to his friends, he'll be here soon" I answer. "How's Max?"

"Oh she's fine, but-"

"I haven't seen her in a while, could you tell her I said hi?" I interrupt him.

"Sure..." he says.

Before he could speak again, Steve's arm is around me, startling me a little.

"Hey, there." He cheerfully greets.

"Harrington" Billy nods at him.

"Are you bothering my girl again, Hargoves?" Steve fakes confusion.

"Your girl, uh?" Billy smirks.

"That's what I said"

"Well... took you long enough, King Steve." He laughs, "Don't let her go. She's a catch."

"I don't plan on it." Steve answers proudly.

"I'll you at school then" he glare at Steve "see you soon" he smiles at me and finally walks away, back inside.

"Too close again?" I tease him.

"Definitely. He needed to know you're mine now" he says wrapping both his arms around me.

"Oh, but you should've let him get closer then" I laugh.

"Why?"

"So he would've noticed all the freaking hickeys you left" I playfully scold him.

"Nah... they're for me." He smirks and kisses me... a little more.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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matan4il · 5 months

Text

To the person who wanted me to analyze an article from Haaretz, you misquoted it.

The article clearly states that "Hamas likely had no ADVANCE knowledge of the music festival."

You dropped the word "advance," making it seem as if Hamas didn't know about the party at all.

The implication is clear. If Hamas didn't know about the festival, they couldn't be present there, and couldn't have killed anyone at this scene. And who cares if there actually are countless testimonies and footage that show differently?

That's why dropping 'advance' makes a huge difference in the meaning. Hamas didn't know about the party ahead of the attack, but the article's byline clarifies that Hamas DID learn about it as they began their infiltration of Israel.

You don't need me to analyze this article.

The intentional dropping of a meaningful word, and dismissal of the byline, is a continuation of this massacre denial attitude that I addressed here:

Because once more, the implication is clear. If Hamas didn't know about the party and wasn't there, but there were over 360 Israelis murdered at the scene, someone had to kill them, right? So why not blame the Israeli soldiers that got there? Why not victim blame the Israelis, accuse them of having perpetrated their own massacre, regardless of endless testimonies and video footage to the contrary?

This is also done with the one other line you referred to, the one saying that it's possible some were killed by an IDF helicopter that arrived to rescue Israelis, and was firing at the Hamas terrorists. Of course it's possible, it sadly happens when trying to rescue people under fire. But it's that rescue that remains the main context, which is being ignored here. In the words of Suleiman Maswade, an East Jerusalem Arab journalist who I got to hear talking about this, what people have done is to take one line, blow it up, generalize from it, and ignore the rest, which does amount to a distortion of the article.

No one needs me to analyze the article in order to not focus on one sentence in it, while ignoring everything else.

The one line that the massacre deniers focus on says this:

I emphasized 'apparently,' which indicates that while this is a possibility, this has not yet been confirmed beyond a doubt, and also the word 'some,' which implies a small number. For sure, it wouldn't be the word used to describe the killing of 364 people.

But I'll do more than this, I'm gonna add here a quote from another article, one that deals with the rapes that took place at the music festival. I'll point out the second paragraph, where the ripping of clothes of the victims, piles upon piles of bodies, is mentioned. They were raped and then shot with one bullet in the head.

Helicopters don't do that.

Since no one needs me in order to not be a massacre denier, I'm not sure I would have addressed this, except Suleiman Maswade's comment (about the distortion of this article) was made in the context of Hamas AND the Palestinian Authority (for which Mahmoud Abbas, its chairman, is responsible) are doing this.

So I'm posting this, because it should be clear to everyone, that any person denying the massacre, or trying to shift the blame onto those who tried to rescue the victims, has a part of their soul missing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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jahayla-parker · 6 months

Text

You Are The Sun : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

Part 4- The Finale

5k wc

Previous parts can be found here.

Nikolai hurried down the hall. He was expected to be headed out in a small caravan -with The Sun Summoner, per Zoya’s orders to do an engagement tour- for the next town over. It was supposed to confirm the rumors of the upcoming wedding and show Ravka had a solidified front. He hadn’t wanted to go but knew he needed to.

Only, as Nikolai made it to the waiting caravan, he realized he’d forgotten his coat in the library earlier. It had been an oversight as he’d been in there when saying his goodbyes to y/n. He had the coat hanging on his arm as he entered. He’d set it down on the back of the couch y/n was seated on as she helped Lotte, one of their youngest Grisha escapees from Fjerda, with her homework assignment.

After noticing Nikolai’s presence, y/n had stood and pulled him to the side, away from the child and their homework. She wanted some semblance of privacy for them to say their goodbyes.

Nikolai had been distracted trying to read y/n’s body language and nonverbal responses to be sure she was okay with him leaving with Alina. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t doubting his feelings. That y/n wasn’t questioning what he’d said the other night about how she was not going to lose him. He was very much in his own head at that moment. As such, he had not remembered to grab his coat on the way out.

Nikolai nodded his head at Lotte with a smile as he passed her in the hall as she walked with Genya. He smiled at Genya as well in passing. He noted that it seemed Genya wasn’t super pleased to see him. But, that was a matter for another time. It was likely only because she could tell he was late for the pre-scheduled departure.

Nikolai’s smile evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace on his face that it was ever even there when he heard what sounded like y/n crying as he reached the end of the hall. His chest shook as he tried to steady himself. His knees felt weak and his legs like cement.

“I know it was stupid,” Nikolai heard y/n say with a whimper. A sharp feeling resounded in his chest at her tone. He could hear her sniffles as she tried to compose herself. “But I still secretly hoped that… One day he'd like me back,” her glum voice murmured.

Nikolai gripped the library’s doorknob with fierce force. Who was y/n walking about? Who did she have a crush on? And why did that aspect in itself make his heart rate speed up and stomach twist? Why didn’t Nikolai know about his best friend having a crush? More importantly, how could whoever it was not like her back? Anyone should be so lucky to be with her.

“Y/n,” Nikolai heard someone say, pulling him from his racing thoughts. The second voice coming from the library sounded like Nina Zenik. Which would make sense, the Grisha was a close friend of Y/N’s. “You don’t know that he doesn’t feel the same way,” the heartrender calmly argued.

“Yes I do! I wish you’d stop trying to give me false hope, Nina,” Y/n sighed, her words confirming the presence of the other person in the room with her. False hope? Who was this unrequited crush that made y/n doubt her worth? Clearly, she hadn’t asked the person their feelings, but was still comfortable speculating that they didn’t feel the same? Why was she so sure? That infuriated Nikolai for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“I know it doesn’t even matter, because even if he did, well…” Nikolai heard y/n trail off. Her half-completed sentence only increased his confusion.

“I get that, and it sucks,” Nikolai heard Nina acknowledge. “I wish it weren’t like this, I assure you it sucks for both of you, but I especially wish it was different for your sake.”

Nikolai leaned against the wooden doorframe, ignoring the way the engravings on it poked his skin. He closed his eyes in order to focus on the conversation he was spying on. “It is irrelevant though, he does not feel the same,” Nikolai heard y/n reply, her voice a little clearer with his eyes closed.

“Girl, you do not know that,” Nina sighed.

“Yes I do,” y/n defended firmly.

“How?” Nina asked rhetorically. “Did you suddenly become a heartrender and not tell me?” She mocked

"Because, I am not the type of person someone falls in love with,” Y/N’s voice rang out.

Nikolai felt like the wind was knocked out of him. What? Why would she-?

“That’s a flat-out lie,“ Nina replied harshly, her voice overlapping with the echo of y/n’s words repeating in Nikolai’s head.

"Fine. I’ll revise it. Because I am not the type of person someone like him falls in love with. He’s so endearing, brilliant, captivating, and worthy,” y/n spoke, her voice suddenly soft and warm at the conclusion of her response.

Nikolai questioned the tension that took over his body as his heart rate sped up. He recognized a sense of frustration and what could only be described as jealousy bubble up inside him. But why? Didn’t he want y/n to find someone like that? Of course, he answered himself. So why was it suddenly hard to breathe?

Nina’s soft laughter brought Nikolai’s attention back to the conversation taking place on the other side of the door. “Look, I mean, sure, the King isn’t unattractive, but y/n, Nikolai isn’t some superior guy, and you’re-“ Her voice muted in Nikolai’s head as he froze. Her crush—y/n’s crush was on him? Y/n liked him? As more than a friend?

Nikolai felt his lips curl up and he noticed the way his jealousy immediately dissipated. Did he feel the same? He hadn’t really let himself consider such things before. He was a King and wasn’t given the choice to seek out a real relationship instead of merely forging one for the sake of politics. Regardless of if he returned y/n’s feelings, he hated the way she felt lesser than him. After all, nothing could be farther from the truth.

As millions of thoughts and memories of y/n flushed through Nikolai’s mind, he came to a quick and simple revelation. While trying to help Ravka, he’d overlooked his own interests and in turn, y/n. While he had told y/n himself that he saw her as his personal sun, he hadn’t realized the true depth of that.

Nikolai meant every word he’d told y/n when trying to reassure her the other night. But, he never stopped to compare those thoughts or feelings to those he had for others. When he did, it became undeniably clear; he more than reciprocated y/n’s feelings, he loved her. In a way that was irrefutably different than that of a friend, or even a best friend. Nikolai supposed his tunnel vision on replacing what Ravka had lost had blinded him from seeing what Ravka could become. But more frustratingly, he suspected that somewhere along the way, his focus had driven him to subconsciously place y/n into a box where she was his best friend but nothing now. Because as he thought back, while he couldn’t place the exact moment he’d begun to fall for her, he couldn’t deny that he had. She encompassed almost all areas of his mind at all times and he’d somehow never even considered what that meant. Perhaps it’s because a part of him knew what she meant to him but felt he had to prove himself to Ravka and the family he’d exiled, meaning he couldn’t be distracted by his feelings towards her.

Regardless of how it had gone down, the fact remained that Nikolai now knew how blind and clueless he’d been. It was as if y/n was a rainbow and he’d been color blind. Or, more fittingly, y/n was the sun and he'd been so blinded and amazed by her light that it didn’t even cross his mind to question why she had such an impact on him; assuming everyone felt that way around/towards her.

Nikolai wanted to scream at himself for being such a blind fool. But, it made sense. Close your eyes and picture the sun. It’s scorching into your back. You can't open your eyes, the brightness of it enflaming your mind till it's all you think about but when it's cold you miss it. That’s what loving y/n was like. It wasn’t just warmth. It was a burning, blinding, passionate love. A love so bright he’d been unable to look at it for what it was. But now that she’d been dimmed by her belief that Nikolai didn’t feel the same, it was much easier to see things clearly. And Nikolai regretted not having seen it long before now.

To be fair, he always knew Y/n was everything real in this world of make-believe. And while he hadn’t acknowledged her physical beauty beyond the level of which a friend would, he had always felt it. For as long as he could recall. He’d felt it as plainly as one could feel the sun shining down on them during a record-breakingly hot summer’s day.

Nikolai’s knees felt weak under him as the wooden doorframe supported his slouched posture. But, despite the shakiness that accompanied the newness of his freshly discovered feelings, he knew exactly what he had to do. Nikolai quickly abandoned his goal of obtaining his forgotten coat, it no longer mattered. Instead, he speed-walked back down the hall in order to track down Zoya.

As Nikolai burst into the den that far too frequently held war planning meetings, he saw the rest of his trumitive were there too. While it might’ve made him hesitant if he questioned his feelings, it didn’t slow him down at all. He had no doubt about his feelings towards y/n; he’d just been blind until now. So Nikolai didn’t care that he was about to do this in front of all of them. If anything, it made it easier as they could all get out their responses at once.

As his advisers-turned-friends’ eyes moved to take in his intrusion, Nikolai gave a coy smile. “Do not murder me, just hear me out,” he teased, knowing at a minimum Zoya would soon be considering it.

“You’re our King. Why would we kill you?” Tolya asked as he squinted at Nikolai.

“You haven’t taken up poetry like Tolya, have you?” Zoya groaned.

Tolya glared at Zoya in offense and shook his head.

“You’ve realized it haven’t you?” Tamar asked smugly.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Nikolai conceited, raising a brow at her. “But, with all due respect, it does not matter right now”.

“What’s going on?” David asked, finally looking up from his notebook at Nikolai's serious demeanor.

“Call off the wedding,” Nikolai ordered simply, turning to his general.

“Given you haven’t even left yet to confirm the engagement rumors, we haven’t really begun the wedding planning, so that can’t actually be done,” Zoya sassed.

Nikolai rolled his eyes before his gaze turned more serious. “Call off the engagement then, Nazyalensky,” he revised.

“What?!” Genya gasped. Only, her voice sounded almost pleased, which Nikolai found odd given how much time she’d already spent drawing wedding gowns for Alina.

“I’ve made a grave oversight,” Nikolai confessed. He still felt tremendously guilty for having not seen y/n when she was right before him the whole time.

“Nikolai, if this is about y/n…,” Tamar sighed.

Nikolai turned towards Tamar quickly at the utterance of Y/N’s name.

“I’m glad you finally see it,” Tamar smiled lightly. “But… It’s a little late. You know what this alliance with Alina could do for Ravka,” she explained cautiously.

Nikolai nodded. “I do,” he agreed but shook his head. “But, Y/n can offer the same and far more”.

Nikolai knew he and his triumvirate had both been so blinded by the sun that Alina summoned that they naively focused on the Summoner and not the importance of what was summoned. It was the sun that truly mattered. And that was y/n. While it wasn’t the reason Nikolai wanted to call off the engagement to Alina, he hoped the realization would make his triumvirate respond less negatively to his change in plans.

“You’re suggesting breaking your engagement with the Sun Summoner to marry her sister instead?” Zoya scolded. She hated wording it like that as y/n was a close friend. But, this was a politically disastrous decision.

“Y/n y/l/n is not just Alina’s sister, General Nazyalensky,” Nikolai hissed protectively.

“Nikolai, -“ Zoya sighed, feeling torn.

“And, of course, that’s not what I’m suggesting,” Nikolai continued.

“Then, what?” Tolya questioned.

“All I stated was to call off the engagement,” Nikolai pointed out.

“And then???” Zoya asked. “What? You court y/n and what? Hope one day she’ll make a decent queen?”

“Y/n would make a fantastic queen,” Nikolai stated firmly. “It wouldn’t take any effort for her to win over the people.” “Should that be what she wants,” he added. Nikolai wasn’t in love with y/n because she’d make a great Queen. They just both happened to be true. But if that’s not what y/n wanted for her life, Nikolai would by no means push it on her.

“This is ludicrous!” Zoya complained. “We arranged this for a reason. Y/N’s great and all, but Ravka needs this engagement to-“

“Actually, we don’t,” David spoke up. “Sure, it would help, but no one expected Nikolai to marry so quickly. And it’s not like he has to do so in order to keep the throne. There’ve been unwed and widowed Lantsov kings before,” he reminded everyone.

“See,” Nikolai smirked, earning an annoyed glare from Zoya.

“Now, if that’s all,” Nikolai innocently remarked as he walked towards the door. “I have things to attend to”.

“Seriously?!” Zoya groaned loudly. “What could be more important than this debate?“ she asked.

“General Nazyalensky,” Nikolai spoke in his authoritative tone, “it is not a debate”. Being the King had its perks and he would utilize them if needed. Especially if y/n was involved. “But, to answer your intriguing question, Zoya,“ Nikolai murmured as he turned to Tolya. “Remind me, what was that obnoxiously poetic piece of advice you gave me as we left to search for The Sun Summoner?” He asked.

Tolya and his twin Tamar both grinned.

“Whatever makes you feel the sun from the inside out, chase that,” Tolya recalled.

Zoya groaned dramatically despite the way her lips tried to curl. She knew how long y/n had been crushing on the King. It was nice to finally see him get some sense and realize he felt the same way towards her.

Tolya’s recitation had been a line that stuck with Nikolai since he first spoke it. But he hadn’t known why. Nikolai figured it was his annoyance at his friend for trying to connect their mission to some poetic verse as per usual. It wasn’t until his revelation earlier tonight that he’d realized Tolya had been talking about Y/n. After all, at the time, Nikolai had sensed Y/n was slightly apprehensive about the mission and he had therefore felt mixed feelings about if they should go. Tolya meant to have Nikolai metaphorically chase Y/n, he wasn’t suggesting their mission was somehow poetic. Nikolai just hadn’t seen what everyone else seemingly had. That to Nikolai, Y/n was the Sun. That she was what he should be chasing after in life. Not the crown. Not Ravka. Not a political alliance through an arranged marriage. But y/n. His best friend. His confidant. His Sun. His love. His life. The sun. The center of his word. Y/n.

Nikolai wordlessly nodded at Tolya, a bashful grin on his face over the now-clear-acknowledgment that he’d taken this long to catch on to his own feelings.

“You realize Alina is quite literally The Sun Summoner, right?” Zoya asked, still feeling the need to argue the case.

“I do,” Nikolai stated as he walked to the door. “But she’s not the one who makes me feel that way. She’s not my sun. She’s not y/n”. He said and heard Genya squeal as he shut the door behind him.

“No, y/n, we need to talk about what I overheard you and Nina talking about in the library,” Nikolai pleaded as he squeezed y/n’s hands.

Y/n refused to look at him, desperately wanting to melt onto a puddle on the floor. This wasn’t happening. Nikolai couldn’t possibly have found out about her crush on him. Could he? It had been years she’d lived with this secret and now, when he was betrothed to her sister was when he found out? Why did she have the worst luck? What had she done to make the Saints so angry?

Nikolai sighed softly, a deep frown on his face. He’d caused this. His inability to notice his feelings before now had caused y/n to react this way. Reminding himself he didn’t need to fear confessing his feelings to her, he took a deep breath. “Alright. We don’t have to talk about it. You can just listen, after all, you deserved to hear this long ago,” he whispered.

“No,” y/n spoke, cutting Nikolai off from whatever humiliating speech he was about to make. She knew his kind heart would mean he’d want to make her feel better about her unrequited feelings. But she didn’t want that. He had nothing to make up for, nothing to apologize for. She was the one who had fallen for her best friend. “You don’t need to do this,” she assured him, nervously looking up to meet Nikolai's gaze.

“What is it you think I’m doing, love?” Nikolai inquired with a slight head tilt.

“You are going to try and make me feel better about myself, feeding me compliments that you don’t really mean just to-“ y/n began.

“Woah, I’ve never given you a compliment that I didn’t mean,” Nikolai defended.

Y/n’s lips trembled faintly as she gave Nikolai a small smile. “Nonetheless, I don’t want to hear your pity,” she stated. “I know you only see me as a friend. And I am honored to hold that title. I also know you’re betrothed to my sister, and-“.

“Y/n, please forgive me for interrupting,” Nikolai pleaded as he stepped closer to her; closing the distance between them. “But, my dear, you’re mistaken in more ways one, and I feel it’s my duty to remedy that,” he whispered.

Y/n squinted, brows furrowed lightly in confusion. “How so? And don’t lie to me, Nikolai,” she commanded quietly.

“I wouldn’t dare to, my love,” Nikolai promised, tugging Y/N’s hands towards him, smiling as the rest of her body followed suit.

“Not even for my own sake? To try to spare me some anguish?” Y/n questioned knowingly.

Nikolai bent his head down minimally. He smiled warmly at y/n, his eyes scanning her face. “I cannot and will not state that I would never try to protect you from undue emotional distress,” he acknowledged, “when warranted”. “But, precious, I do not believe that to be warranted for this particular conversation,” Nikolai grinned.

Nikolai watched the confusion on y/n’s face deepen at his words and he squeezed her hand. “I am no longer betrothed to anyone,” he informed her. He watched as a mix of emotions crossed y/n's face and swirled in her eyes.

“Wha-…” y/n mumbled, mouth suddenly dry. “What? Why? Did something happen?” She asked. Her eyes scanned Nikolai’s body as she leaned back to see him fully. “Are you okay?” Y/n questioned worriedly.

Nikolai nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m okay,” he promised. “Far better than okay, actually,” he grinned, teeth grazing his bottom lip briefly. “And yes, your sister is perfectly fine as well,” Nikolai added, seeing the way y/n’s worry had visibly lessened but not disappeared.

“So.. What.. why?” Y/n asked, her eyes peering up into Nikolai’s.

Nikolai tenderly brushed some hair away from y/n’s eye and tucked it behind her ear. “Because I was a blind fool for far too long,” he admitted.

“You-… what?” Y/n scoffed with a frown. “Blind to what?”

“You, y/n,” Nikolai answered affectionately, “I was blind to you”.

Y/n took a shaky breath as she took a single step back. “I don’t… I don’t understand, Nikolai,” She confessed. “Alina is constantly shining upon you. And, me? I'm the moon... constantly chasing after you,” y/n pointed out. “Which, I’m fine with Nik, so long as you’re hap-“.

“No, my love,” Nikolai cooed, taking a step forward to close the gap between them. “You have got it all backwards, I’m afraid. You are the sun, and I am the moon. Whatever light you see in me, is merely yours, reflected across the length of night.” He smiled tenderly as he stared into Y/N’s eyes. “I always found it beautiful how the moon glows using the sun's light and the sun never asks for anything in return. Yet, I took that for granted. I benefited from your love and I-,” Nikolai shook his head, ashamed.

“I didn’t treat you differently just because I held feelings for you, I’ve been your friend first and foremost,” y/n promised.

“I know,” Nikolai grinned. “And, I can’t express how much I cherish that.” He let his thumb face her left cheekbone. “But you deserved to know that I lo-“ he began.

“Do not say you love me unless you really mean it,” y/n hurriedly whispered. “Because I might do something crazy like actually let myself believe it,” she murmured.

“Please do believe it,” Nikolai requested, thumb still on y/n’s cheek as his remaining fingers slowly brought her face closer. “It’s far from crazy.” “What’s crazy, milaya, is that it took me so long to see what was right before me,” Nikolai confessed, needing her to know he should’ve come to this realization a long time ago. That she deserved for him to have done so. “It was like… You shined so brightly that I had to look away,” he whispered dazedly. “But I realize now I should’ve just fashioned a way for me to see the reality before me,” Nikolai apologized.

“Nikolai, you don’t have to-“ y/n tried, shaking her head softly.

“Yes I do,” Nikolai argued firmly. “I will not have you spend a single second more believing that your feelings are unreciprocated”.

“Wh.. But-“ y/n mumbled.

Nikolai shook his head. “No buts,” he hushed, “the universe took its time on you, crafted you to offer the world something different from everyone else. When you doubt your worth or how you were created, you doubt an energy greater than us both”.

“You don’t believe in the Saints, Nikolai,” y/n reminded him, with a raised brow.

“No,” Nikolai agreed. “But I believe in you. And I believe there is something, or someone, out there that has blessed me with you,” he mused with a smile. “How I’ll ever pay off that debt, I have no clue,” he said with a soft shake of his head. “But, I will happily spend the rest of my life proving my feelings to you and showing you your worth,” Nikolai pleaded, “if you give me the chance”.

Nikolai watched nervously as y/n tried to keep her composure. He could see she was emotional, but he couldn’t read which way it was going. Nikolai lowered his hand from her face and took both of her hands on his again. He gently squeezed her hands as he whispered, “Will you?”

“What?” Y/n questioned, voice barely audible.

Nikolai chuckled, the familiar pride of being able to make someone as incredible as y/n so flustered returning to him. He reached his hand back up and stroked her cheek. “Will you give me the chance to prove to you the sincerity of my love for you?” Nikolai asked.

Y/n blinked past the tears forming in her eyes. “Without Alina you might not have the world’s attention,” she warned. She needed Nikolai to know what he was giving up by choosing her.

“I do not want to have the world's attention,” Nikolai rebutted. “Yours is more than enough."

Y/N’s lips twitched as she fought off a bashful grin. “You know I can’t be her, right?” She asked nervously, her eyes scanning Nikolas’s to see if he fully understood.

“I don’t want you to be, I don’t want her,” Nikolai reassured y/n, holding her hands in his tightly. “l want you”.

“Alina can get even the most hesitant crowds to cheer for you, for Ravka,” y/n argued. She knew the influence her sister could carry and how that could help benefit Nikolai. It’s why their political engagement didn’t shock her too much when it was announced.

“One can choose to live for applause, or live for a cause,” Nikolai shrugged. “And I’d much rather do the latter.”

“And what’s the cause?” Y/n hesitated.

“Showering the darkness of this world with your light and your love,” Nikolai declared. “You make this world a better place just by being you, and we need more of that. I need more of that. Always.”

Nikolai cupped y/n’s face in his palms, his long fingers resting just below her temples on the side of her eyes. “But, I need you to know, that while I do reciprocate your feelings, and I do acknowledge how great of a Queen you’d make one day, should you choose to want that, that is by no means why I reciprocate your feelings,” he vowed. His eyes scanned Y/N’s face lovingly as he shook his head. “I confess I do not know the right words to express the depth of my feelings for you, but I have never loved anyone the way I love you,” Nikolai admitted.

Y/n let a single tear escape from her eyes as she smiled widely at Nikolai. “I believe you, Kolya,” she breathed out.

“What?” Nikolai exhaled, staring into y/n’s eyes as his thumb blindly wiped away her stray tear.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” y/n assured Nikolai. “I believe you”.

“And if I still wanted to?” Nikolai asked. He desperately desired to find a way to make Y/n feel as loved as she made him feel every day.

“What?” Y/n asked, echoing Nikolai’s response from just moments ago.

Nikolai dropped his head down to y/n’s level. “You are the sun rise after a cold, dark night. So comforting and so warm,” he whispered. “Seeing you doubt yourself because of your feelings for me truly wounded me. I never want you to feel that way again.” His warm breath hit y/n’s skin as he rested his forehead against hers. “It may not have been for more than a few days, but it’s been lonely without your rays my dear, and my body aches to be sun-kissed by your sweet sunny lips.”

Y/n shook her head with a giddy smile. She didn’t need Nikolai’s flowery words and declarations. She just needed him. And, she finally had him. She was finally going to be his and he’d finally be hers. “You don’t need to flatter me, Your Highness,” y/n stated with a playful wink. “You know you won my heart long ago.”

As Nikolai went to reply, he saw the way y/n’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward. He grinned and closed his own eyes, hands never leaving her face as she closed the gap between their lips. Her smile twisted with his as they savored their first kiss.

As Nikolai and y/n reluctantly pulled apart for air, he smirked down at her. He was finally able to see and he was never going to let her out of his sight. If you closed your eyes and pictured the sun; that’s what it was like to love y/n; a burning yet comforting warmth. She was his sun and he would willingly go blind to everything else around them if it meant keeping her near him.

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