#But the only thing actually remaining amongst all of you is the past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolken-himmel · 10 months

Text

In which Floyd's transformation potion wears off, causing him to be stuck in his eel-merman form in a large tank.

Now (Y/n) has to entertain him.

Request by anon.

You had always admired the Mostro Lounge's interior design. Large tanks that lined the walls, some that connected to the vast ocean outside the building and allowed little fish and other creatures to pass through. You used to spend a lot of time watching all these adorable and innocent creatures swim past the glass facade. But now, all of them had been chased away by a vicious predator.

Floyd.

You exhaled and watched as he terrorised the last remaining guppies until they fled the tank. The large eel-merman was left alone in the tank, now bored out of his mind. There were no more little fish to torment. So he turned to you, who stood outside the tank and watched him swim around. He flashed his teeth at you, you poor little fish.

"Shrimpy!" he cried out once his head penetrated the surface of the tank. His arms were resting on the upper edge of the tank, the water from his skin dripping to the ground. He shot you a sly smile. "Come a little closer. I don't bite."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, making sure your blazer was still dry. Despite his pressing gaze, you didn't move a centimetre. "I don't wanna get wet. You splashed Azul when he gave you your lunch earlier."

Floyd let out a groan at your reply. "Shrimpy, don't be such a guppy!"

His words caused you to quirk an eyebrow. "I'm not a guppy. I have good reasons not to trust you," you said, a tad bit of playfulness lingering in your voice. You chortled softly, knowing better than to come closer to him.

"What?! I'm as innocent as those little spikeballs from the Heartslabyul garden, the ones you like to cuddle! I deserve appreciation too, don't I?" the merman whined, as if your words had offended him. He pulled his arms away from the ledge of the tank and sank to the bottom of the tank, so he could face you properly. His long tail curled around the floor as he glared at you, the glass wall being the only thing separating you two.

You shrugged softly. "Who says you won't pull me into that tank if I get closer."

"I would never. I swear on Jade."

His words drew loud laughter from your lips. You almost doubled over from how intense the wheezes were that shook your body. "You'd swear on your own brother?" you asked and held your stomach in pain. As your laughter faded out into chuckles, you gazed around the empty Mostro Lounge. "I hope he didn't hear that..."

Floyd chuckled along, but his laughter quickly turned into grumbles of annoyance again. "Come on, Shrimpy. I'm bored!" he complained again and swam circles in his tank. It was large enough to allow for vast movement, but it was empty of any entertainment. "I wanna walk again, poke your side and annoy you."

You chuckled and crossed your arms. "Yeah, you're a real menace. Maybe it's good you're stuck in that tank for a few hours," you teased him. Unable to help yourself, you stuck your tongue out at him.

Floyd clutched his chest dramatically and sank to the bottom of the tank, where he remained motionlessly. "Shrimpy, you're so mean to me..."

Laughter spilled from your lips, and you couldn't help but tap your finger nail against the glass wall. "Stop it, Floyd. You're so dramatic."

"You're breaking my heart..." the eel-merman whined before regaining life again. At the speed of light, he shot up from the ground of the tank and zoomed off into a dark corner.

You brought your face closer to the glass, your eyes scanning the vast tank. The back was littered with large stones and tall kelp plants. Even though his tail was long, he somehow managed to easily hide amongst the flora of the tank. A worried feeling made itself apparent in your stomach. "Floyd? Where are you? Come out again," you yelled out nervously.

Did your playful banter go too far? Did you actually manage to insult him.

Your head began to spin with thoughts of how hurt he must feel. Feeling awful, you desperately searched for any sign of life from him. But your eyes never managed to see past the plants and rocks in the tank. He was nowhere to be found.

With each passing minute of your fruitless search, guilt and dread weighed down your conscience. You began to feel bad about what you had said to him. Any attempt of calling out to him was met with awful silence. With Floyd gone, the empty Mostro Lounge became eerie and lifeless.

Your guilt got the better of you, and you climbed up the ladder that led to the upper ledge of the tank. Your eyes scanned the crystal clear water, but even from up there, you couldn't manage to find him amongst the kelp. With your hands tightly gripping onto the ledge, you leaned over the tank.

"Floyd... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said," you murmured softly. "Please come out again. I'm worried about you..."

You're met with silence again. He still seemed too hurt to reply you. Or that's what you thought at least. With all the feelings of guilt that plagued you, you didn't notice the threatening shadow that approached you from below. Your torse continued to lean over the ledge, desperately trying to find your friend in the tank.

That was until a webbed hand shot out from the water and grabbed your arm. A scream escaped your lips as you were pulled into the tank with ease. Your body toppled over the ledge and plunged into the water. Strong limbs and an even stronger tail constricted most of your panicked movement.

Your clothes felt heavy and your eyes burnt as you were finally able to open them. You came face to face with a mischievously grinning Floyd. He held you tightly, but making sure your head remained above the water. An unsettling giggle escaped his lips. "I never was mad at you. I just needed you to feel guilty and come closer to the tank so I could pull you in."

You glared at him, but your anger was only half-hearted. "You sly eel..."

Your struggling is met with carefree laughter from his side. "That's what we're known as. Smart, sly and slippery!" he exclaimed smugly and swam around the tank with you. A bright smile was plastered onto his face, akin to that of a child that had just received a present.

"I should have known this was just another one of your ploys," you murmured in dismay.

Floyd pressed you against him until you could only wheeze out your complaints. "You're like a rubber duck! So easily squeezable and cute," he cooed playfully.

"Hey, let me go!" you cried out with red cheeks.

His laughter turned louder, until it filled the entirety of the Mostro Lounge. "Sorry, no can do, Shrimpy. You're my little rubber ducky until I get my transformation potion."

"Azul! Hurry up with the potion!" you yelled out at the top of your lungs.

Before you could say more, Floyd pulled you underwater to shut you up. After a few seconds of having his fun, he pulled you up again. A giggle escaped his lips at your disoriented state. He merely soothed your strangled whines by pulling you closer, his arms circling around your waist.

An eerie smile decorated his face as he patted your head. "Oh, he can take his time. I don't mind...."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #twst floyd #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #gender neutral reader

3K notes · View notes

feyascorner · 2 months

Text

at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

#is this kinda ooc idek atp #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #feyascorner #bg3 x reader #astarion x oc #baldurs gate 3

1K notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 4 months

Text

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Can't believe it's been so long since I last posted. Hope you guys enjoy this one! As always, if you see any typos... no you didn't

Warnings: Drunk Jake, unprotected p in v sex, cock warming, fingering, hand jobs, doing things we shouldn't in a public place, cussing, partying. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5k

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

Late has already bled into early by the time you manage to spot Jake in the crowd again. His back is to you as he speaks excitedly to someone you’ve never seen before – though there’s a definite chance that Jake hasn’t either (he’s a chatty drunk no matter how well he knows the person).

Tonight is a celebration of sorts. A celebration of what is to come and what they've already done. With tour on break for the holidays, the Kiszka-Wagner clan had been taking some much needed R&R after such a long and grueling schedule of shows before they have to leave again. The first few days had seen Jake lounging at home, perfectly content to spend his days entirely wrapped up with you. You had binge watched some shows that he’d missed while gone, ordered take out from all the places that he’d been craving, and over all spent almost every minute of the day within each other’s company.

But Jake is a man who likes action – regardless of how much he enjoys spending time at home with you. After a few weeks of nothing, you can tell that he’s itching to be doing something again. First there had been simple dinner gatherings with your immediate friends and family, then jam sessions with the rest of his brothers that had lasted well into the night, and then finally he’d begged to go to this party tonight. Josh is hosting (no doubt he’s experiencing the very same restlessness that his twin is) and a party hosted by Josh is always a sure fire promise of a fun night.

So you’d happily agreed and given Jake the go ahead to let loose tonight – party as hard as he wanted for however long he wanted and you would be there to drive him home. His eyes had lit up at your offer before he’d given you a sweet kiss and a murmured thank you before scampering upstairs to call Josh and let him know that you two would be coming.

But as excited as Jake had been to go out tonight, he’d still periodically found his way back to you, begging you to come join him where the music is the loudest. You’d politely declined him each time, wanting to give him time to spend with his friends and brothers after giving so much of his time to you. You know that his offer is genuine. Jake wants you by his side at all times (he’s a clingy motherfucker even when he’s sober) but you had simply told him you would prefer him to go spend time with everyone else instead. He’d begrudgingly agreed and you’d since been spending your time watching him go from sober to tipsy and finally to actually drunk within the span of the last few hours. You liked watching him like this – smiling and carefree amongst the people that he loves (along with a number of people that you’re pretty sure Josh only invited because he likes a full house).

But the crowd has dwindled as the early hours of morning approach. It’s nearing 3AM now and only some 15 people remain. You’d been parked in a far corner for the past hour or so but you’re pulled from your spot by Jake calling your name. He, along with Josh, Daniel, and Sam, have made their ways over to the couches and chairs in Josh’s living room and consequently collapsed into them. The core group you like to call them, finding each other to close the night out amongst themselves. There are others still left elsewhere – some faces vaguely familiar and some completely foreign to you, but they’re all far too wrapped up in their own conversations and drunken storytelling to notice that the host and family has moved somewhere else.

Josh sits in one of the loveseats, one arm lazily thrown around the shoulders of his partner – also suitably drunk, who’s nuzzled into his side. Sam sits in another chair, cheeks flushed and hair a complete mess as he pours himself another drink. You know already that he’d say he’s earned it since he’s spent the night “slaving away” as the party DJ. That leaves Daniel and Jake left to find their seats, Daniel finding his place on one end of the sofa and Jake on the other. You make your way to them – each of the boys exclaiming excitedly at your approach.

“Y/n!” Josh booms, the sheer loudness of him drowning out the others and startling his poor partner, “Gracing is with her presence at last!”

You giggle as you make your way to the sofa, eyeing the spot between Jake and Daniel.

“Now that you all seem to have settled down a bit I thought I would join you.”

As you make to sit down, Jake’s hands find your hips and guide you instead to sit down on his lap. He sighs contentedly as you surrender to him without a fight, easing down on the tops of his thighs and settling your back into his chest.

“Hi.” You tell him, twisting as much as you can in his lap to turn and see his face. His cheeks are flushed and a yummy sheen of sweat adorns his neck and temples. Eyes dark and lips looking particularly plump, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Hi there.” He answers back. “Missed you.”

He smells like alcohol and weed – a combination that seems to have left him feeling particularly touchy as his hands settle themselves possessively on your waist. He’s warm against you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back lulling you into a relaxed state as he falls effortlessly back into the conversation with the rest of the boys. His words rumble in his chest and you take the opportunity to lean your head back into the space between his neck and shoulder. The smell and heat of him sets off some carnal, feral part of your brain and you find heat of your own pooling between your thighs. You ignore the feeling, opting instead to try and focus your mind on the conversation at hand.

“-and so I told him that he would either have to sleep there or find someone else to take him home because I wasn’t doing it.” Sam’s voice wafts through the air. You’ve got no idea what he’s talking about but you have a sneaking suspicion that he probably isn’t all that sure of what he’s saying either.

“You’ve always been a little punk ass.” Josh interjects, giggling a little bit at his own words. “Since you came out of the womb.”

Sam meets him with a scowl.

“I just learned from the best, actually.” He snarks back, though there’s no real heat behind his words.

“Don’t talk about Danny like that.” Jake’s rumbling voice interrupts and though you can’t see him, you can hear the grin as he speaks. “He’s a wonderful influence, Samuel.”

Danny laughs heartily, tossing his head back as he does so. Josh smiles like he’s just won a prize and Sam only meets Jake with an eyeroll.

“I was talking about you two.” He says, pointing between the twins.

They continue on with their bickering and you do your best to keep up with them. The few remaining guests filter their way out one by one, giving thanks to Josh on their way out. The boy’s conversations weave in and out, jumping from topic to topic as they often do. It's hard to keep up, especially as your focus strays from the conversation to the uncomfortable kink in your back from sitting in this position against Jake’s chest. You shift a little bit, settling down further in his lap to ease the feeling. As you shift, a hiss escapes him and his hands tighten on your hips.

“Angel.” He whispers, tilting his head down to press his lips closer to your ear. “Careful.”

You can’t help the way your eyes widen and your core pulses at his tone. His words are rough and ever so slightly slurred. His fingertips dig into the meat of your thighs in a way that makes you dizzy with a sudden want for him to take you right here in front of everyone.

“Something wrong?” You answer him back, turning your head and capturing his lips with yours. Alcohol and weed and Jake hit your tastebuds and you shift once again in his lap.

“Something’s hard.” He murmurs against your lips.

And he is.

You can feel him now, hot and solid against your ass. It sends your blood boiling and your cunt clenching around nothing.

You exhale shakily, willing your voice to remain passive and unbothered.

“Poor baby.” You say, turning back away from him and earning yourself a growl from deep in his chest.

“Jake stick you with being DD for the night, Y/n?” Daniel asks, causing everyone’s eyes to shift towards you and Jake. You can feel him tense behind you. He’s still rock hard against you and everyone’s eyes on him only serve to make him more excited as he tries to play it cool.

“I offered.” You answer Danny, dropping your hand onto Jake’s thigh. “Plus, he’s a handful to deal with even when I’m sober.” You squeeze his thigh. “So I figured I’d lay off the alcohol tonight.”

“Oh he’s something alright.” Josh supplies, grinning ear to ear at his brother. You worry suddenly that he knows somehow. Freaky twin thing and all that, especially given the Cheshire smile he shoots your way. But he looks away and back to the others quickly and you dismiss the idea. Freaking twins.

Conversation divulges again and the attention falls from you and Jake. But he’s worked up now and there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily. Sober Jake is a horndog… drunk Jake is damn near insatiable.

“Play nice.” Jake warns you, his voice just barely loud enough that you can hear it. “Don’t wanna have to punish you.”

That finally makes your breath stutter and halt in your chest. Jake can feel you still against him and he chuckles.

So the game begins.

Wordlessly, you shift your weight and slide your ass across his crotch. Jake bites his lip and his eyes blaze as he watches you settle your rear onto the sofa next to him with an innocent smile. With your legs draped across his hips (still keeping his hard on from being seen by everyone in the room) you’re free now to settle into his side. You’re playing a dangerous game messing with him like this but the new position allows for you to press your calf into the growing bulge beneath his dark jeans and for your hands to settle on his midsection. Deceivingly innocent to others but filled with possibilities to tease him. Jake knows this though, and those dark eyes of his are pinned to you, lust-blown and dangerous as his breathing picks up.

You look away and do your best to turn your attention back to the group. Jake does the same, but the feeling of his hard dick against your calf is proof enough that he’s still more than distracted.

As the conversation carries on, you do your best to interject every now and then to at least pretend to be interested. But you’re more interested in taking Jake home and devouring him. But you suppose the waiting will only make the reward sweeter in the end. Jake, for his part, seems to be feeling the very same. His eyes dart to your face periodically, heavy lidded and carrying the weight of how much he wants you right now. But even with the lust coursing through the both of you, he still looks at you whenever he makes a joke (making sure he’s succeeded in making you laugh) and his fingertips absentmindedly drum songs and beats onto your shin. As worked up as he is, his sweetness still seems to outweigh the alcohol in his system. It just makes you want him more.

Bored with waiting and ready for him to say it’s time to go, you delicately trace your fingers across his midsection. You press your fingertips into the soft flesh of his sides as you keep your eyes trained anywhere but him. Jake cocks his head to look at you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as you shift your leg and rub your calf across him. Half-hard still, his body tenses. His hand finds yours on his belly and he stills it, grip tightening in warning.

Not satisfied with his reaction, you press your leg down again and this time his spine goes ramrod straight as his hips buck up on their own to meet the feeling.

That’s one point for you.

“Why are you trying to start shit?” He murmurs, taking a sip from the glass that he’d just refilled.

“Because I can.”

“Because you’re desperate.” The last word comes out as an almost growl.

You shake your head.

“I’m not anything.”

“You think I can’t tell?” He asks you, his head tilted down and gaze trained solely on you. You scan the rest of the group, afraid that they’ll hear whatever filth is about to spill from between his plump lips. Thankfully, they’re all far too engaged with their own conversation to notice what’s going on between you and Jake. “Your cheeks are flushed all pink like they get when you’re horny.” He starts, fingers trailing up from your calf to your thigh. “And you're breathing fast. Like you do when you’re wet.” His fingers go higher still and your thighs clench despite yourself.

He wins the point this time and you can’t help the little sigh that escapes you.

“Maybe I’m just tired of waiting.” It’s all you can think to say – the lust fogging your brain and making it impossible for you to come up with a witty retort. You want him. Now.

“You’re going to have to wait a while longer.”

“Why?” The question is reminiscent of a young child. Whiny and full of demanding petulance at his refusal to take you home and fuck you this instant.

“Because someone,” he shifts his hips slightly, “made me rock fucking hard. And I can’t get up like this right now. Not with all them” his eyes dart to the group, “sitting right there.”

You huff a breath.

“Please.”

He hums and places his glass on the table next to you. His own control is cracking under the weight of your heavy gaze (and calf that's teasing his dick relentlessly) and you realize with glee that you've gotten what you wanted.

“Gentlemen,” he starts, clapping his hands down on your legs and interrupting one of Josh’s long-winded stories. “I think we’re going to call it a night. The missus is getting tired.” He grins at you and you flush even more.

“Leaving without helping clean up?” Josh demands, extracting himself from his partner’s grip and rising to his feet.

“Oh, always.” Jake answers him, words still slightly slurred. “But you’ve got these fine young gentlemen here to help you.” He gestures to Sam and Danny who both groan but stand up with Josh anyway.

As they begin busying themselves with picking up glasses and paper plates, you raise your legs from Jake’s lap and stand. He follows you – though he teeters dangerously once he’s on his feet.

“Easy.” You warn, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him balance.

“I’m fine.” He laughs, but his steps remind you of a baby deer trying to walk.

As the two of you make your way outside, you both hiss as the cold of the night hits you. You press yourself further into Jake’s side. As you reach the car – parked all the way by the road, you make to open the passenger door for Jake but he pulls you into a kiss first.

His tongue plunges into your mouth and he groans as you grant him easy access. Despite the cold, your body thrums with the heat of your arousal. Jake’s hands are sloppy as they caress every inch of you he can get – your sides, your tits, your ass, everything. As you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair he leans his full body weight against you, pressing you into the side of the car and caging you there. You can't quite tell if it's just so he can keep you where he wants you or because he can't stand upright any longer. Either way, wetness floods your panties at the feeling of his body pressing into you. Solid is the only word you can think of to describe him.

“Jake.” You moan as his lips trail down to your neck, the heat of his mouth a delicious juxtaposition to the frigid wind. He’s relentless, drunkenly nipping and biting at your skin in all the ways he knows you like. “Jake, quit.” You tell him, even though it’s the last thing you want him to do.

“Why?” The question is muffled by your skin, his lips never leaving your throat.

“Get in the car. It’s cold as fuck.”

He pouts but he straightens up and removes himself from you and you ignore the ache in your belly at the loss of contact. Jake’s fingers wrap themselves around the handle of the door but not of the passenger seat. Instead, he opens the door to the back and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Jake.”

“Y/n.” His tone matches yours mockingly, his eyes glittering.

“It’s freezing.”

“So let’s warm up then.”

You try to fight it. You know you should. You’re out here where any one of the neighbors could look outside to see what’s happening if they look hard enough. If Josh looks outside and sees your car still here there’s no doubt that he’ll know what’s happening. Sam and Daniel are spending the night and are probably drunk enough that they’re already passed out but who knows if one of them might happen to look out a window.

But the ache between your legs has grown nearly unbearable and you don’t want to wait any more than Jake does. And as you watch him clumsily climb into the back seat and lean himself back against the opposite door you know that any shred of resistance you had is gone.

“You’re drunk.” You scold, unwilling to admit defeat even as you climb into the car with him and shut the door behind you. It’s freezing in the car and your teeth chatter slightly as you settle in.

“Quit fussing.” He tells you, spreading his legs and pulling you in to settle between his thighs. “Don’t wanna have to wait.”

At that – at the pleading, whiny way he says the words, you cave and crash your lips back to his. His hands find your sides again, squeezing possessively. Your own hands find his shoulders as you attack his mouth with yours. The kiss has no real finesse, all teeth and tongue, but it’s perfect. Jake is moaning beneath you with every pass of your tongue and you realize with no small amount of excitement that the alcohol in his system has taken away any ability he had to hold all those noises in. He’s always vocal. But this? This is like Heaven to your ears.

His hand drops to the waistband of your pants and his fingers dance along the skin there before slipping beneath. His fingers are cold as they graze over your clit through the fabric of your panties. His middle finger presses in, applying just the right amount of pressure as he begins to rub in little circles. You moan loudly into the kiss and his answering groan tells you all that you need to know about how into this he is.

“You’re soaked.”

You nod, head falling back and mouth dropping open as he pushes your panties aside and circles your swollen clit even faster.

“Take these off.”

You obey, sitting backwards and toeing your shoes off before sliding your pants off your legs. It’s cramped and clunky in the confined area of the car but Jake watches you like it’s still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Your shirt is next, discarded carelessly into the floorboard as you paw at his own shirt, desperate to see more of him. Jake lifts his arms and pulls his short off, the fabric joining your clothes as well.

No matter how many times you see him like this, you still can’t help but be amazed. He’s glorious before you, all milky skin and soft curves that make you want to bite him. His arms flex as he pushes his jeans down, the strength of his biceps and forearms the perfect balance to the rest of him. Without pausing long enough to think about it, you drop low and sink your teeth into the supple flesh of his side.

He cries out in answer, arching his back and head falling back with a thud against the window.

“Y/n. Fuck.” He whines and you take his moment of surprise to palm him through his boxers. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he was hard as a rock. Even through the fabric you can feel the heavy heat of him.

You trail your mouth down to the waistband, licking along the skin there before grabbing it with your teeth and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free. You sink lower still, intent on enveloping him in the warmth of your mouth but he stops you with a hand in your hair.

“Wait.” He sighs out breathlessly, causing your eyes to flick to his questioningly. “Not gonna last if you do that.” He grins sheepishly and you laugh.

“Who’s desperate now?’’ You ask him, echoing back to his taunt from earlier.

“It’s your fault.”

With that, he sits up and surges forward, slamming his lips to yours again and pushing you backwards. He settles on top of you, his cock resting against your ass cheek. The movement had taken much effort, his drunken limbs just a little too clumsy for finesse and grace and you both laugh a little as you settle. Finally, he pulls your panties all the way down and you whine as the cool air hits your wet center.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, those dark eyes of his devouring the sight of you beneath him. “Been waiting for this all night.”

He sits upwards, gripping his cock in his fist as you spread your legs for him. The car is small, your back shoved into the corner and your head cocked at an odd angle. But none of it matters as he finally slides himself into you. You cry out, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders. His groan is deep and rough as he bottoms out and pauses, allowing you a moment to adjust to the familiar stretch of him.

“Move.” You beg him, hooking your legs around his hips and using your heels to dig into his ass and pull him closer.

He plants both hands on either side of you, fingers digging into the leather of the seats as he starts to rock his hips. His brows tip upwards and his eyes fall closed as you clench around him helplessly.

“So fucking tight.” He slurs, hips snapping into yours deliciously. The air between the two of you is thick – humid and warm enough that the windows have begun to fog up completely.

“Harder.” You whine and his body trembles and shakes as he tries to follow your command.

His mouth drops open and a loud moan escapes him as he picks up his pace slightly. His arms tremble where they fight to keep himself up in this position and you giggle softly at him.

“Switch with me before you fall over.” You urge him before tossing your head back with a moan as his cock brushes against that special spot inside of you. Even drunk off his ass he can still find it with ease.

“Fine.” He huffs, pulling out of you and settling back into his earlier position with his back against the door. “Sorry.” He mumbles, giving you a drunken little grin.

“S’okay.” You tell him, climbing over his thighs to straddle him. “Can watch you better this way anyway.”

He preens a little at that, cheeks flushing a dark red as you grip is cock in your hand and guide the head to your entrance. You sink down and whine as this position allows him to slip even deeper into you than it had before.

You roll your hips and moans punch out of both of you. He always feels so fucking good – but having to wait so long for it tonight has only made it even more rewarding now. His hands grip your ass, kneading into the flesh and guiding your pace. His eyes are half lidden as he watches you and sweat begins to bead at his hairline. The look he’s giving you – hair a mess and mouth dropped open, is a familiar one. It’s one you’ve seen on his face countless times; both as he’s fucked you and as he plays his guitar on stage. It’s enough to have the coil in your belly begin to tighten already.

“So fuck’n beautiful.” He moans lowly, his eyes pinned to where your tits bounce with each roll of your hips.

You whine and lean downwards, kissing him roughly as his hips begin to thrust upwards to meet yours. You can tell that he’s losing it beneath you – his focus torn between trying to kiss you and trying to match the rhythm you’ve set. He’s pussy drunk and actually drunk and the thin bit of control he has left is starting to break.

He uses his grip on your ass to guide you upwards, pressing your breasts into his face. His lips lock around one hard nipple as one hand comes up to palm the other one. He moans louder still, the sound muffled against your tit. The feel of him… he’s everywhere in this cramped car and all of your senses have been completely overtaken with just Jake.

“Please.” He whines, detaching his mouth from your nipple with a wet pop. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

His teeth dig into his bottom lip, his face contorting in pleasured agony as he holds himself back, waiting for you to finish first. You toss your head back and cry out, his cock hitting your sweet spot as you ride him into oblivion. The noises falling from him are barely human – rough and broken in a way that lets you know that he's completely overtaken with the pleasure of it all. Your orgasm finally hits you, seeming to start at your toes and work its way all the way through you. Your body shakes as you ride it out, walls fluttering and clenching around his cock. Your moans are only interrupted by cries of his name as he fucks you through it before finally your brain manages to come back to reality to take in the sight below you.

Jake – drunk and fucked out with his eyes pleading up at you.

“Gonna fucking cum, Y/n.” He thrusts up once, twice, three more times before he’s losing it. His head thrashes and curses fall from his lips like prayers. It goes on forever, his body tensed up and legs shaking on either side of you as he spills his release into you.

Finally, his body relaxes and stills. And his beautiful eyes blink open to look at you. A dopey and satiated smile spreads across his lips. You can feel his cock where it’s still inside you softening, but neither of you really want to move yet.

“You’re so pretty.” He says with an alcohol-drenched smile.

“And you’re still very drunk.” You giggle, kissing him softly.

“I don’t have to be drunk to be able to see that you’re pretty.” He answers with a slight pout. Even inebriated he’s not going to let you run from a compliment. His ability to still recognize those little insecurities that you still have, no matter how much he’s had to drink, makes you smile softly down at him.

“You’re pretty too.”

He flushes and opens his mouth to retort but it’s cut off with a hiss as you pull off him. You reach down to grab your phone where it’s been discarded on the floorboard with yours and his clothes and the screen lights up enough to make you squint your eyes.

Two notifications await you.

Josh 4:27AM

you guys okay?

Josh 4:34AM

in my driveway?? :(

You can’t help but laugh at the message before clicking your phone off. The windows have completely fogged up now so there's no denying your guilt to Josh.

As you turn back to face Jake, his eyes have closed and he looks almost asleep.

“Hey.” You smack his chest and he startles, making you laugh even harder. “Get dressed so we can go home.”

He groans and sits up, eyes looking glassy but still wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Round two once we get home?”

“If you can stay awake that long.”

“Challenge accepted.”

--------

If you would like to be added to my taglist you can find it here

tags:

@jakeyt

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

@writingcold

@way-to-go-lad

@sinsofstardust

@jjwasneverhere

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf

@wildbluesorbit

@twistedmelodies

@neverwanttofallasleep

@sunandthemoontwinflames

@clairesjointshurt

@mindastreamofcolours

@hellowgoodbye

@gretasfallingsky

@weightofkiszka

@smoking-jakelane

@gvfmelbourne

@stardust-chordsss

#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka

370 notes · View notes

pedgito · 1 year

Note

heyyy, idk if you're still taking requests but I haven't been able to get this thought out of my mind for like a week:

"fuck me like you want me"

"but I do want you"

"...wait, what?"

a friends w benefits to lovers w eddie?? reader catches feelings for him after a little while & is going to call it quits on the situation they have going until eddie confesses his feelings in the middle of what she thought was going to be their last time? idk if the concept is good but like I said I can't get it out of my head & i hope you'd be willing to write it. Ur an amazing writer <333 hope you're doing well lovely

author’s note: i actually really loved this idea!! writing has been a little tough for me lately, just with focusing but i really tried to do something short but sweet with this and i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fwb to lovers, confessions, angst/fluff, protected sex, just lots of feelings, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 1.3k

You wouldn’t even let Eddie pull you past the threshold of his room, adamant on where you stood by the front door, telling him this would be quick. And he’s got that look on his, always smiling at you like he wanted to say more, but he was being polite, listening to whatever you had to tell him.

It was a blindside, honestly. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’s remained this oblivious, missing the signs, the obvious distance you were trying to create, how quickly things went from good to bad, the awkward stage in between where you didn’t want things to stop, but you weren’t sure how troublesome things would become if they progressed.

So, you call it quits.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

Your voice doesn’t waver, no hesitance in your tone despite how horrible it felt saying aloud.

“What?”

Eddie doesn’t want to believe it himself, face contorting into a mix of amusement and confusion, grinning like an idiot. It was the same dopey smile he always had, never anything less than.

“This, we can’t.” Your finger wags between the both of you, “The sex—I can’t.”

“Are you—are you disgusted or something?” Eddie asks, his smile faltering, “Does this mean we have to stop being friends too?”

Eddie hates himself for feeling upset over it, doing his best to mask whatever hurt was radiating throughout him. The problem was, unfortunately, that Eddie had dived into this with feelings pre-established. He was reckless and agreed and threw himself into a mess he couldn’t escape—not that he wanted to, but it had never been just sex for him.

He’s never had friendship like this; he’s had friends, but the levels at which you and Eddie understood each other, it was hard to recreate.

And you loved Eddie, that much was true. But, you couldn’t stand the idea of the feelings not being reciprocated, cutting things short before they transformed into something you couldn’t snuff out.

It was preemptive—and maybe you were jumping the gun, but you didn’t have any other choice.

“We agreed on no feelings, right?” You ask to clarify, his face softening at the inclination—everything that was unclear shifting into place.

Feelings. Stupid fucking feelings.

“Yeah, but—“ Eddie starts to defend.

“I mean, we probably should’ve expected it, right?” You ask with a weak smile, “One of us was bound to catch feelings—“

The only thing Eddie can focus on is losing you.

In his mind he knows—you’d never really leave. And you had feelings, feelings for…him? For the sex? But, he can see the look in your eyes, the hesitancy you feel to move toward him, within his reach.

Eddie can’t take it, saying what you both were feeling.

“Is it selfish of me to ask for one last time?” Eddie asks, “Before things go back to how they were?”

How they were—when things were normal, if you could call it that.

You find yourself nodding before you can stop it.

And for a moment, everything else is forgotten.

Eddie kisses you like he always had, full and attentive, teeth dragging against your lip and his touches all consuming, traveling amongst your body with no real path, touching you, trying to remember you—but when he finally breaches your entrance after a few minutes of shaky hands struggling to open the condom wrapper, the head of his cock pressing inside you finally, everything’s different.

Eddie doesn’t realize how much of a mistake it was until this moment, your eyes connecting with him intensely, face contorted in an expression of confusion as you examined the frown on his face, wondering why he looked so perplexed.

“At least fuck me like you want me, Eddie.” You plead softly, his thrust slow and languid.

He’s not trying to hide from you, but he's definitely not here with you, in the moment.

He forces a smile and buries his face into your neck, pressing warm, soft kisses into your skin in hopes that you’ll change the subject, his hands adjusting your legs around his hips as he moves against you, more forceful than before.

“Hey, hey—“ You urge, pulling his face away from your neck until his wide eyes are on you again for a brief moment before his eyes travel to your chest, your thumbs rubbing at his temples, “what’s going on with you?”

Anywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t keep himself together with you looking at him like that.

“Nothing.” He persists.

You shake your head, breathing your nose in frustration despite how hurriedly Eddie was moving inside of you, grunting softly under his breath.

“You wanted this,” You remind him, “you can’t even look at me right now—Eddie—“

He collapses slightly, forehead resting on the pillow behind your head as he squeezes at your thigh, shifting his hips at angle that has you both gasping momentarily, your hands shifting to his shoulders for purchase, the dullness of your nails sinking into his skin.

“I do—“ Eddie mumbles into your skin, muffling the rest of what he says, only feeling the vibrations of it against you.

“Eddie, I can’t hear you.” You plead, brushing his hair behind his ear, rubbing tenderly at the shell.

Sex had always been slow, intimate—despite the obvious stipulations to your deal and maybe that was the problem.

The sex was fun at first, easy—and it stayed that way, but it ventured into more, always needing to touch and feel and connect, whether it be your lips or your eyes, it wasn’t just sex to either of you, and Eddie couldn’t handle it anymore.

He couldn’t do this, but he couldn’t not have you—even if it meant he risked embarrassing himself.

“I do want you.” He confesses, head lifted slightly so you could hear him more clearly, his gaze still avoiding yours. “I don’t just want this.”

“Wait,” You laugh short, annoyed, “what?”

“I always have,” He continues, “It’s never—it’s never been just this for me, I know it was stupid of me to agree and drag you along but—“

You shove his shoulder lightly, stopping his movements momentarily. He’s looking at you know, hair askew and his eyebrows furrowed in surprise, “What the hell?”

“You let me embarrass myself like that?” You say seethingly, though the anger doesn’t reach your face—you can’t be upset with him, not with your current situation.

Or ever, really. It was to hard to stay mad at Eddie.

“I come here and tell you I have feelings and you’ve felt that way the entire time?”

Eddie’s at a loss and maybe it’s the arousal running through his brain but he can’t help laughing, a soft chuckle as he falls against you, his chest against your own as his fists dig into the mattress.

“I’m sorry.” He says endearingly, “You know I’m not good with feelings, or talking, or words—“

You sigh heavily, palms coming up to cover your eyes.

Eddie smiles slightly, using his nose to nudge your hands away from your face, leaving kisses as he finally breaches.

Against your nose, “Sorry,” down to your chin, “so sorry,” before pressing a deep kiss to your lips, tongue slipping inside and causing you to sigh out into his mouth, “really, really fuckin’ sorry, okay?”

Your fingers dig into his hair, pulling him away until you can see his face, scowl deep set into your features but still soft around the edges.

“I’m here mourning and you’re harboring secrets like that?”

Eddie hangs his head in shame, leaning down briefly to press a kiss against your collarbone.

“Apology accepted?” He asks hopefully.

“No, absolutely not.” You reply stubbornly.

Eddie snorts out a ridiculous chuf of a laugh, “Fair.”

“We’re finishing this,” You tell him, making your point by squeezing your legs tighter around his hips, forcing him to groan pathetically, “and then I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Eddie nods obediently, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as his languid thrusts become more pointed and precise, his warm palm settling in your knees to spread you apart to his liking.

“Let’s see how much I can make it up to you then, yeah?”

He snaps his hips once, harshly, forcing a broken whine from your lips. You nod fervently, mouth hung open and any previous anger forgotten for the moment.

“I’ll show you just how sorry I am.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing

2K notes · View notes

yellowflowerbub · 10 months

Text

small business

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿��♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you and gojo run the snacks stand for your class together

wordcount. 1k

pairing(s). teen!gojo satoru x reader

tag(s). friendly banter, gender neutral reader

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The school festival is busy. Students scurry through the building and the outskirts of the premises like rodents, every inch of the school from closet to hallway is drenched in the stench of school spirit. Silence is something you won’t hear until you return home as the whole of the student body fills the air with inaudible conversation.

The room you inhabit has little to no decoration, in comparison to the rooms adjacent to your own, the classroom is wholly bare. The stand you’ve thrown together consists of brands of sweets organized at random. In front of the table is a sign that reads, “Candy 400 Yen Each”. Running the stand and sitting behind the table along with you is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t appear to be any more elated to run the stand than you are.

“Can’t we just pack up?” Gojo groans, he’s been steadily complaining for the better of an hour. It’s almost admirable how someone can remain this verbally annoyed for this long.

“No, we haven’t gotten anywhere near our class’ goal.” You reiterate while recounting how much you’ve earned as of now. 1,600 yen. 19,400 yen to go.

He whines, leaning back in his chair, “But we’re nowhere near getting to our class goal!”

“I just said that.”

“How can they expect us to get that much money in a day from these kids? Everyone keeps walking past our room ‘cause it looks like there’s no one in here.” He twists around in his chair restlessly, kicking up his legs over the armrest and planting them back onto the floor, folding his legs under one another before pulling his knees up to his chest.

“That’s a great idea, Gojo. You should go out and tell people that there actually is a stand in this room.” You suggest, pushing on his shoulder as you do.

His glasses plummet to the tip of his nose as he jerks out of his seat, “I can’t do that! They’d just walk past me. I’d rather jump off the roof than have an underclassman ignore me and chase after them. God that sounds humiliating.”

You don’t bother responding to him. At some point amongst the nagging, a student wanders through the door. Gojos eyes shoot to the student then to you.

“Hi, we’re selling sweets for our school's fundraiser. Everything we’ve got is on this table.” You gesture to the array of candy.

The student looks nervous, almost unreasonably nervous for the circumstances. They feel around in their pants pockets and pull a few coins from one of the back ones. “Can I buy two chocolates?” They ask holding up the coins in one hand and a two in the other.

“Sure, that’s 800 yen. You can drop it in that jar to your right.”

They hum, grabbing the candy and flipping the coins in their respected place.

Gojo looks antsy. The tips of his thin fingers drum on his thigh and his poor posture, fixed eyes, and chattering teeth make him look predatory. Too bad this energy is directed toward the kid who looked like they’d shit themselves before they came in.

“Why stop at two pieces of chocolate? We have too much shit to only grab one thing.” He speaks like a salesman, a stark change in tone from the groaning and whining senior he made himself out to be a moment ago.

“Oh,” They sound startled, “Well, I’m just not that.. hungry.”

“Bullshit,” They jump, “I know an exhausted student when I see one.” He does not.

“Really, I promise I’m not tired at all.” They stammer yet Gojo persists.

“Look at those bags under your eyes, you must not have had any sleep last night. Boy have I got just the thing you need.” At this point, you’re sure this is the cap on how much money you’ll be making today.

“If I put more money in, will you let me leave?’

“Yes.”

Without another word the student drops the rest of what remained in their hand straight into the donation jar and leaves as quickly as they’d come. You resist a strong urge to drag your hands down your face.

“Dude.”

“Yup?”

“You’re so oblivious it’s infuriating.”

Gojo scoffs, “I am not! You’re too much of a pushover to see when a customer needs to be pushed a bit.”

“‘Pushed a bit’ is an extreme understatement. You nearly made that kid shit themself.” You outstretched to tip the donation jar toward yourself, “Speaking of shit, stop swearing while we’ve got customers.”

His countenance twists into one of genuine confusion, it hadn’t wrapped around his diminutive mind how he could come off as pushy. In his eyes, some people, especially those younger than himself, needed a little push, “Really?”

“Yes.” You deadpan.

Despite his idiocy, Gojo is immensely intelligent in reading people. Of course you probably wouldn’t be making any more money if word gets out that some asshole is berating underclassmen for the few bucks they’d brought to spend however, that kid was loaded.

“Holy- that kid had 8,000 yen on them! We’re close to being done with this now!”

You could see Gojo being physically inflated with pride. With his pointer finger he nudges his shades further up the bridge of his nose, “See?”

You continue to count the money once more.

“I’m like, the best at reading people.” He boasts, “If it were just you here, you would’ve let everyone waltz out that door without asking them for anything else. I’m just too good. Maybe I should look into sales.” It looks like he'll burst if he pumps his pride any further. You might not be able to drag him down to earth, he’ll continue to drift away until his ego is out of plebeian reach.

“Do you think I’d look good as a car salesman? Hm~?”

“Absolutely not, stick to sorcery.” He deflates.

“Damn! You’re so ruthless. I’ve got some feeling in my heart!”

“Unfortunately, most of it is complete and utter idiocy.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: in honor of the new jjk season coming out

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #teen gojo #teen gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo saturo

428 notes · View notes

tantei-chan01 · 5 months

Text

The Giver. Mute Branch Au

Notebook talking has this "-"

Sign language is this "*"

Xxx

A scrapbook opens as Poppy narrates, "Years ago, on the night of the Harvest Moon, a mysterious troll paid our village a visit and delivered gifts to everyone becoming known only as ... the Giver." On the page, a little troll in a hoodie leaves presents in the pods, stopping to pose in front of the moon. "Every Harvest Moon since has been the same, leaving presents under the veil of night."

The little trolls in the pod leave for a moment, missing the Giver leaving them a gift, "Yay!"

"Which everyone loves...." Poppy suddenly shuts the book, "but it drives ME completely insane!"

A crowd of trolls looked at her in confusion, chattering amongst themselves.

"When you give a gift, you’re supposed to receive a thank-you card. It’s what separates us from the animals. And this Troll is making a mockery of the whole thing. " Frustrated, Poppy throws the book on the mushroom, Smidge behind her with a stern look. "Ugh!"

The crowd gasped, Biggie covering Mr. Dinkles eyes. Branch tapped a dazed Suki's shoulder and held up his brown notebook, "- I think I might missed a step from being in my bunker the last decade. Does she do this every year?-"

Suki shrugged, "Pretty much. I just nap through it. Thank goodness, I learned to sleep with my eyes open, right?" She snores with her eyes open, making Branch gasp and drop his notebook.

"Well, listen up, Giver. You may have escaped me in the past, but this year I’ve rigged the entire village with hidden alarms." She points to Smidge, who pulls a conveniently placed vine. Red and blue bell like flowers beging blaring out an alarm. "Which means I will catch you and will get what’s coming to you."

Smidge pulls out a purple bat (which I hope is actually rubber) with an eager face. "Yeah!"

"This!" Poppy pulls out a blue thank-you card and opens it to show off her card, making skills

Smidge nervously laughs and hides the bat. "Uh, yeah, that."

"So this is your last chance. Come forward now and take your thank-you like a troll." The crowd looks at each other, but no one comes forward. Poppy then hears a certain breathing pattern that she definitely recognizes as laughter, "Something funny, Branch?"

Branch signs, "*Yes, you.*"

"Hm…"

"*I realize I’m new to all this, but if “the Gifter” wants to remain anonymous, shouldn’t we respect that?*"

Biggie excitedly asks, "OH! Can I try translating?" Branch nods to the gentle giant. "Okay, you said something about making cookies for the Giver."

"Meep."

Biggie looks at Mr. Dinkles, "What do you mean I'm not even close?"

Reminding herself to help Biggie with translating later, Poppy responds as Smidge seems to be counting trolls, "It’s “the Giver.” If you’re gonna be a know-it-all, get your facts straight."

"Uh, Poppy, just did a hair count, and Satin and Chenille are absent."

Poppy quickly turns to her, "Absent?! On the Harvest Moon?" Her face switched to determination, "Let’s go, Smidge. We’ve got a new lead suspect."

"Uh, there’s two of them."

"We’ve got a new lead of suspects. "

Xxx

The scene switches to Satin and Chenille's pod, only to reveal Satin sick in bed.

Satin sneezes and then blows her nose into a tissue, tossing it into a pile next to her. "I love being sick. It’s like my body has a whole other side to its personality for me to get to know. Don’t you think?" She turns to Chenille, who's wearing a gas mask and carrying a spray bottle.

Chenille sprays at her twin, "Back, vessel of pestilence! Back!"

Poppy and Smidge sneakily walk up to the window, "You ready to bust these gift-giving punks, Poppy?"

Poppy pulls out the card and preps it. "Locked and loaded." She hears crunching and sees Branch sitting in a chair, eating a bag of popcorn. "Ugh! Don’t you have better things to do?"

"*Than watch you make a fool of yourself? (munches) Please, I cleared my whole day.*"

Smidge looks at him, "OK he definitely said something about you embarrassing yourself." Branch tapped his nose twice. "Cool." She smiles, then turns her attention back to Poppy, "Ignore him. How do we get ‘em to talk?"

"By using the oldest Troll interrogating technique there is-good cop, great cop."

Smidge uses her baseball bat to shine light into Satin and Chenille’s pod. Directing it to face Satin.

She flinches for a moment and then relaxes into it. "Ah! Ooh, that sunshine feels so good."

Poppy leans in close to the sick troll. "You know what else is good?" She takes out a cookie. "Cookies. And you can have them if you tell me what I want to know."

"Ooh."

She pushes the cookie closer, "Or if you don’t, either way."

Satin smiles. "That’s so nice."

"Oh, yeah?!" Smidge pulls a cake from behind and lightly slams it on the table, "I’ll give you an entire cake, no strings attached!"

Satin feels a bit conflicted, "Wow, I feel like I should at least tell you something."

Poppy gets right in her face, "Well, I’ll give you a back rub."

"I’ll write you a haiku."

Poppy bangs on the table, "I’ll be your best friend!"

Satin holds her head in what seems to be guilt, "OK. OK. I confess. I color my hair! I’m not a natural purple." She then points to her sister as the lights come on. "Neither is Chenille."

Chenille's eye twitches in disbelief, "You...are dead to me."

"Hold on. So you’re not the Giver?"

An unfamiliar laugh distracts the four, turning to see Branch leaning on his chair laughing, "*Bravo, Poppy. You really broke the case of the purple hair wide open.*"

Poppy growls, feeling a little conflicted, seeing as he'sactually laughing for others to hear. Chenille comments, "I only understood purple hair. "

Satin smiles a little, "Well, it's nice to actuallyhearhim laugh. "

Branch leans to far bach on the chair, knocking down the curtains, revealing what appears to be red wrapping papper. Poppy gasps, "That looks like the paper the Giver uses." She turns back to Satin and Chenille. "Explain yourself… ves!"

"That paper’s not ours."

Chenille explains, "Yeah, it’s so five years ago. Do you think we’ve been living under a rock?"

Smidge licks the paper, "It’s definitely the same-quality pulp, hand-cut edging," She then points to a logo, "and look at the insignia. It comes from Sky Toronto’s Party Shop.

Poppy turns back to the twins, "Ladies, I really hope Sky doesn’t tell me you’re the Giver, or so help me, I’ll thank you like you’ve never been thanked before." She walks backward and arrives at Sky Toronto’s Party Shop.

She walks with the older glitter troll as he gives out orders, "It’s crunch time, people. I need 200 piñata ideas on my desk by tomorrow morning." The workers walk away. "Queen Poppy, I’m honored, yada, yada, but let’s cut to the chase. There are 18 parties, 12 soirees, and at least five shindigs on an average Troll night all supplied by me, Sky Toronto." He snaps his fingers. "So time is glitter."

She holds out the wrapping paper, "Do you recognize this?"

Sky stops as a worker approaches him, "Pause."

The worker holds out the confetti samples, "Mr. Toronto, the new confetti designs for your approval, sir."

Sky throws each sample to inspect, "Pass, hard pass, too cliché." He stops at the fourth one. "Ah, that one. That’s the confetti of the now." The worker leaves, and he turns back to Poppy, "Yes, I recognize it. Not popular, except with one troll who picks up about 100 rolls once a year."

Poppy gasps, "Once a year?!"

Another worker walks up to him with a disco ball in her hand, "Hey, S.T. The boys in decorations just cooked up this new color. Thoughts?"

Sky thinks for a moment, "Hm. Not bad. But disco balls aren’t testing well. How about disco… cubes?" The worker gasps and walks backward, her mind blown.

Poppy tries to get his attention, "Let me get this straight. The Troll who gets this paper, you’ve seen him in person?"

"Many times." An explosion catches his attention and sees some workers running from it. "Don’t mind that. Accident in the trick candle division. We try to put it out, but every time we do…" Trolls bring in water and fire extinguishers to put it out, but the explosion gets worse. "I should ask Branch to see if he can come up with something to put it out."

Later, Smidge is getting a cup of water in the meeting room while Poppy is talking to Sky with Harper sitting with him.

"Okay. Just give Harper here a physical description."

Sky begins the description, "Body of a warrior. Earlobes of a poet. Butt that shimmers like the night sky. We done here?"

Poppy looks at the picture groans, "Describe the mystery Troll, not yourself." She turns Harper's clipboard to reveal a drawing of Sky.

Sky takes the picture Harper drew and hands it over to one of the workers, "My mistake. But I’m keeping that. The troll had dark eyes, a shrouded face, and hair the color of mystery."

Harper shows Poppy a picture of the Giver. Which is only a troll in a hoody wearing sunglasses. Poppy stammers, "What is this?! This isn’t helpful."

"I said I saw the Giver, not that it’d be helpful."

Harper takes back the picture she drew, "Wait. I’ve seen this Troll."

Xxx

Later that night, Harper Poppy and Smidge go to find the Giver, "I saw the Troll down here this morning… over by the tree roots." She points to a large tree. They continue to walk as the fog clears. Poppy gasps to see several gifts ready to be delivered.

Smidge is a bit suspicious, "Uh…"

Poppy looks on in awe, "The Giver’s stash. They’ll have to come back here before delivering tonight’ gifts. This is where we make out stand." As she tries to walk away, she hears squishing sounds.

Smidge looks up at her, unimpressed, "Uh, we’re standing in mud."

The royal moves away from the mud, "This is where we make our stand.

An owl is heard hooting in the background. Poppy and Smidge are hiding in the bushes. "It’s just a matter of time. Eventually, our Mystery Troll will have to come back to get the gifts, only to find…"

Smidge pops out of some tall grass, "Whammo! It’s a stakeout, boy!"

"Oh, yeah!" The two hear rusting. "That’s the Giver now!" The troll appears and seems to go to the gifts. "Gotcha!" She pulls a vine, and many flowers pop up. They shoot balls and streamers along with a thank-you banner.

Spiders jump down and sing, "Thank you!"

Poppy runs out of her hiding place, "Ha! I thanked you! I thanked you so hard! Yes, yes, yes!" She turns on a flashlight and pulls away the flowers. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?!" The flowers reveal that it was only Cooper.

Cooper gives them a clueless smile, "You’re welcome."

Poppy is shocked, "All these years, it was you? W-why did you - When did you…" She puts her flashlight away and tries to calm down. "You know what? Just start from the beginning and tell me everything."

Cooper looks at her, "Everything? Okay. Darkness. Then I emerge from the womb, wearing this very hat."

(5 minutes later)

"And then the theme of my 7th birthday party was invisible friends. It was very well attended."

(2 hours later)

"And then, after years of hard work at graduation, my classmates finally turned to me and said, “You’re not in class.” (chuckles) We laughed."

(Another 2 hours later)

"And then some weird Troll told me if I came out here, I’d find some empty boxed for my empty-box collection. And then you trapped me and said, “Tell me everything.” And then I said, “Darkness. I emerge from the womb”-

Poppy stops him, "Whoa! Just answer this question." She takes out the picture Harper drew. "Are you or are you not the Giver?"

He taps the picture, "That’s the weird Troll that sent me here."

They looked at him in disbelief, "The Giver sent you here?"

A random green spider set down a package and pulled back up. "Special delivery from the Giver."

Smidge opens the present and reveals a letter. “Dear Poppy, I’m sorry. This was the only way. From, the Giver.”

"It’s a setup. The Giver wanted us to come here!" She hears the alarms sounding in Troll Village.

Smidge looks over the horizon, "Oh, my Guh."

Poppy quickly runs toward the village, "Halt! Halt in the name of gratitude!" She looks up at the pods to hear the Trolls cheering because their gifts were delivered. She falls to her knees, leans up towards the sky, and exclaims, "THANK YOU!"

The Trolls are celebrating their given gifts while a sad Poppy sits at her pod. "The giver won, Smidge." She opens her card. "No point in holding on to this anymore. She rips the card to pieces.

Smidge tries to cheer her up, "Come on, Poppy, at least you got a present, huh?"

Poppy takes the present, "A horribly wrapped present. Who uses so much tape?" She sighs, "Chenille was right. This Troll really must live… under a rock! (gasps) Trolly-moley. I know who it is!" She gives her present to Smidge and runs. Then she comes back to pick up her destroyed card. "I really regret doing that." Smidge takes both presents to her pod for safe keeping.

Xxxxx

We return to the tree to see a dark figure heading towards a cave hidden amongst the vines, "Hold it right there, Giver."

Poppy walks towards the figure and grabs their shoulders, "It’s time for you to be finally thanked." She turned them around to reveal, "(gasps) Mr. Dinkles!"

The hoodie falls off to reveal the cute little glow worm on top of some other pets. Smidge pops out of the bushes, "Wait, so it wasn't Branch?"

Poppy shakes her head, "If you're here, then who's with Biggie?"

Xxxx

We quickly go back to the village in Biggie's pod, "Isn't this wonderful, Mr. Dinkles?" He pulls out a brand new camera, showing it to a doll that looks like Mr. Dinkles, with a poorly hidden tape recorder on its back. "Meep"

Xxxx

"So if all of you are the Giver, why keep it a secret?" Poppy asks.

"Meep."

Poppy cooed, "Aww, you all just wanted to show your love for everyone by doing something nice."

Smidge pulls out a present from her hair, "Well, that explains the massive amount of tape. Must be pretty hard to wrap without thumbs."

Poppy cleared her throat, "OK guys, I still want to thank all of you, so how about you all come to my pod tomorrow for some special treats?"

The pets all agreed and waved goodbye to the two trolls as they walked back to the village. Once they were gone, they quickly ran into the cave. Dinkles flipped over a rock to reveal a pass code lock, he typed in some numbers, and a hatch opened. They all jumped in, landing in a very familiar living room.

"Meep." Well done, everyone. They all turned to see Branch taking off a dark hoodie and special night vision sunglasses. "Meep." She doesn't suspect a thing.

"Meep." Correct, Quiet One. Now, I believe we are to receive our payment.

Branch smiles and pulls out his special, pet friendly, triple fudge brownies. As he watches them enjoy the treat, he laughs silently, 'Sorry Poppy, but this is one secret I'd like to keep to myself for a while.

#trolls #trolls branch #au #mute!branch #trolls band together #branch #trolls poppy #dreamworks trolls #trolls the beat goes on #trolls world tour #trolls snackpack #trolls smidge #trolls satin #trolls chenille #trolls cooper #trolls dj suki #trolls biggie #trolls mr dinkles #this took a while

296 notes · View notes

starlitheaven · 1 year

Text

— 3:01am

summary. toji comes home late at night from a job. he reflects on his love for you.

tags. established relationship, modern au, hitman!toji, fluff, introspection, toji is in love and can’t believe it, oral sex (f.recieving), suggestive

note. based on my fic series gods & monsters, but can be read as a standalone. the reader and toji are unofficially engaged. inspired by rainy nights & gymnopedie.

wc. 2k+

toji regrets passing on the umbrellas strategically placed outside of the 24 hour Family Mart in the pouring rain. the fabric of his worn black jacket practically seeped into into his shoulders, weighing him down. there'd be a storm tonight, no doubt.

his phone died before getting on the last bullet train to tokyo so he hadn’t expected the sudden onslaught of rain. the weather greeted toji like a whirlwind when he stepped out the train—sharp and unforgiving against his sore muscles.

still, he was too preoccupied with getting home, barely giving the umbrella stand a second glance as he made his way through kabukicho. the red light district was busy despite the weather and late hour; people crowding clubs and bars to escape the cold. even the hostess girls and scammers have retreated from the rain.

toji ignored it all, practically dragging himself through the narrow neon lit streets. his shoulders were heavy and sunken with the fatigue of a weeks long job, but toji was solely focused on getting back home.

to you.

he knows this neighborhood more than any other; knows all the restaurants that give shady men like him good discounts and the illegal gambling rooms hidden amongst ordinary establishments. he knows exactly where to pick up women that are eager to give him a good time with no consequences.

all of his past vices are right at his fingertips, so close that he can easily imagine blowing through his entire payment in a few hours. but none of this calls to him anymore, though. there's nothing in these fleeting excitements that draw him in. he's a man with a future now.

the apartment is pitch black when he enters, save for the glow of the small nightlight plugged into the genkan, only ever on when you’re expecting him in the early hours of the night. the soft orange glow greets toji home like the kiss of your loving sunlight—a sweet reminder of your consideration. it softens some of the violence that remains inside of him after a contract that ends, with bloody hands being scrubbed clean inside a motel bathroom.

because a bastard like him somehow found you in the turbulent shitstorm that was his life. toji fushiguro found another kind soul who loved him and kept him close to their heart. you were the angel who healed his wounds with your bright laugh and reminded him that good things were still possible despite all that’s happened. to him, you represented a future that didn’t end in sorrow and bloodshed and loneliness.

the downpour was muted through the building, thumping heavy against the rooftop. the frigid breeze no longer reached him. it was comfortably warm inside.

removing his jacket and shoes, he made his way through your shared shitty 1K—a one room studio apartment with a kitchenette and not much else. one could say this place was his home, but toji’s home was anywhere that you or megumi resided in. in the kitchenette was the sink and a small counter space with a microwave on top. beside it was the fridge and stuck to it with a miffy magnet was a post-it that read:

left some shogayaki for you, it’s in the blue container! the sencha is in the cabinet. drink some to warm you up! wake me when you’re back ♡

cute. actually, the soft kitten snores that reached his ears were even more adorable.

the rain pattered against the balcony door as he stopped by the bed tucked into a corner. this place was too cramped for a man like him, let alone a couple and occasionally a child. toji couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here, to give you and megumi a home that you deserved. to be done with this shady lifestyle.

you stirred as the bed dipped with his weight. “t’ji?”

“hey babe,” he murmured, softer than he intended. softer than he ever felt capable of. the storm outside continued on, now raging on the streets of tokyo. “just got back.”

i’m home. fuck, when did the tides inside of him calm?

toji's lips curl up as your small hands blindly felt up his arms and chest with a dubious hum. because you don’t fully know just how cutthroat he is when he’s not being your boyfriend. your soon to be husband. “mm. you’re ok? not hurt?”

half asleep and you’re still fussing over him. the devotion and sweetness of your love made his teeth ache sometimes. it took all of his sins and washed them away like the storm just outside the window. now, toji was a softie who turned down risky jobs despite the big paychecks that they promised.

all because he had a girl and a son to come home to.

“who do ya think i am?” toji scoffs, pinching your nose between two thick fingers. he tugged gently, grinning at your lazy swats in retaliation. you reminded him of the kittens at the cat cafe that you had gone to when you first began dating. “hm? have some faith in me. i always get the job done just fine, no big deal.”

smacking his hand away with a grunt, your palm curled over his cold nape to pull him down for a kiss. in the dark of the room with the moonlight blanketed by dark clouds, his lips blindly met the corner of your mouth instead. huffing a soft laugh, you turned slightly to give him a proper kiss.

it’s something you always insist on, to give him a welcoming kiss home no matter what hour he returns. he thought it fuzzy and clingy at first, a testament to your almost decade age difference, but the gesture has grown on him.

toji hums low in the back of his throat, pressing you back against the bed with the weight of his much larger body. his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the minty mouthwash from the hundred yen store down the street. your body unconsciously adjusts for him, allowing him to pin you down fully the way he's done so many times. his hand settles over the curve of your waist, and the little whimper you let out has him reaching down to unbutton his pants.

before he can do so, you let out a shaky gasp and pushed him away. albeit reluctantly. “wait! go shower first, you stink!”

toji scowled. “tch. no I fuckin’ don’t, you little brat. the motel had a bathroom.”

“yeah, and the stuff there is crap ‘cause I can tell you smoked. you didn’t take the travel kit i made for you! i spent all day in shibuya looking something you wouldn’t hate only for—”

flipping the blanket over your face, toji got up with a groan. he ignored your muffled curses. “fine! i’ll go take one, shit. what a fuckin’ moodkiller.”

dodging the pillow you threw towards his back, he allowed himself to smile at your continued cursing. the kansai accent and slang always slips out when you’re upset and it’s the cutest fucking thing. he doubts you’re even aware of it so it’s just for him to enjoy.

a quick hot shower later, toji wiped at the foggy mirror. looking at his reflection, he allowed himself to settle into the tranquilty of the apartment. the edge of a job released with the sigh he let out. he came to terms with the fact that the blood would never wipe clean from his hands. no matter what, toji was tainted with the death of more than he could count.

he still didn’t care that the lives that he took were worth nothing more than horse races, cigarettes, tokens, cigars, and petty material possessions. it was a life that he felt shackled to—choked down into.

but outside the small bathroom door was his salvation.

emerging from the bathroom in only sweatpants, toji found you standing in the kitchen. your back was faced towards him, taking something out of the microwave to place on your miniscule countertop. the small space smelled of pork and ginger; you had gotten up to heat up his dinner. it wasn’t until he met you that he realized how small gestures could contain so much love.

toji walked towards you, taking a quick glance at the clock against the wall that read 3:01am. is this considered an early breakfast, then?

unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently pulling you against his broad chest. you didn’t mind this, instead humming contently and settling back against him while you stirred his food. it was all so comfortable and familiar; it’s something he’s done hundreds of times now. toji placed a kiss at your temple, soothed by the scent of your coconut shampoo and jasmine body wash. generic products that countless women in tokyo could be found wearing, yet they were something novel and fresh on you. it was something he couldn’t get enough of.

in fact, he could never get enough of you.

“did ya miss me?” toji crooned into the shell of your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth to suckle on. your responding whimper had his gut tightening in arousal. “'cause i missed you. you’ve got no idea how badly, babe. these long jobs almost aren't worth the fuckin’ money anymore.”

a sigh escaped your lips as you gave him more access to kiss down your jaw and neck, leaving little nips. "mmm, i missed you every single day. i even started missing seeing your dirty clothes all over the place."

"that so?" toji hums in amusement, giving your hips a slow squeeze. the stirring in his gut only grows at your proximity. the softness of your skin, the delicious sounds you make, how small you feel beside him.

perfect girl. his perfect girl.

"mhm, it was lonely without you," a shiver crawls up your spine at toji's big hands caressing you. you mutually find each other irresistable, often unable to stop once you've begun. "but you should eat first...we have all day tomorrow to..."

you trail off when toji licks up your neck, feeling a familiar bulge at your backside.

“I had to listen to you play with that sweet cunt through the shitty burner phone,” he grunts into your ear. back in that motel he had stroked his cock alongside your moans, filling his ears with the sounds of your wet pussy. you were so needy and slutty that night, whining filth into the phone while he was cities away. “c‘mon, baby. all you’ve gotta do is sit on my tongue. lemme taste how much you missed me.”

he's playing with your tits now, kneading the soft flesh in his big rough hands. the way you take your lower lip into your mouth tells him all he needs to know. toji sinks to his knees, pushing your hips to rest against the counter as he pays his respects to your sweet cunt. his hands slide the shirt—his shirt—up to expose more of your soft skin to him. plush thighs begging to be bitten into, cute comfortable underwear, smooth belly and a peek of your bare tits.

the rain outside faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a backdrop. toji absently thought of the people he had seen out in the streets; who were nothing but props in this moment. this moment was suspended in time between your bated breaths. the world blurred around him, leaving only you in his line of sight.

greed has been a companion throughout his life, one that he welcomed with open arms. he's been selfish and quick to give into indulgence, but none hold a candle to you. none had his blood buzzing in his veins the way your body did. that soft and gorgeous body of yours, that cunt that squeezed him so well...

toji smirked, taking notice of the small wet spot over your soft cotton underwear. it made his mouth water, the taste of your cunt ever present in his mind. he rubbed a thumb over your mound, light enough to tease. your breath hitched slightly, sensitive for him as always. “tsk, tsk. don’t know why you try and pretend like you’re not aching for me. look how wet this cunt is, baby.”

he continued on, pressing into your clit until you begin to squirm and beg under your breath. but he wants to get back at you a little for messing with him with that phone call, so he focuses on your clothed pussy. pressing his nose over your mound, toji inhales deeply with a broken groan. when you shyly try to close your thighs, his hands grip around the soft flesh to keep them apart, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you comfortable.

"smell so fucking good," he whispers, licking up the damp cloth to where your pubic hair would begin. the thin fabric is growing more wet against his mouth, and soft curses are spilling from your lips. "gonna devour you."

when your body begins to sink down against him, that's when toji knows to hook a finger over the side of your underwear and show him what he's been thinking of day and night. your pussy is gleaming wet for him, lips puffy and begging to be kissed.

eating your pussy is the final welcome home after a long job—he spreads your lips apart to spit at your hole before going in and licking your mixed juices back up. makes sure you’re nice and pliant for him before he slides a thick finger in, nice and slow.

your smaller hand fisted in his midnight hair, pulling every time he suckled on your clit. he groaned in response, silently urging you to tug harder. rougher. to pull his hair back only to shove his face back into your cunt.

if it were up to him, he'd suffocate between your soft thighs and die a happy man. his grunts vibrated against your skin, only making you hotter knowing how much he enjoys eating your pussy. the flat of his tongue licks up your twitching hole, gathering your juices before suckling on your puffy clit.

it all felt insignificant inside of this apartment. he was alive and well, much more than someone like him could ask for. because a man who kills for a living never quits counting his days. for so long he was accustomed to rising in the morning, resigned with the fact he may not live to see the sun dip below the horizon.

except that this morning his first thought had been wonder if she got some more razors for me. it was so horrifingly domestic that it gave him vertigo. you had, in fact, gotten him more razors. for toji, life was no longer about surviving—now it was about making it through his hardships and planning a future. and you were always at the center of his thoughts when he envisioned the future. it was your stubborn optimism that made him believe in it, after all.

toji feels your thighs quivering just before you begin grinding over his face frantically. his cock is leaking through his sweats, aching to be touched. but his needs come second to yours, and isn't that fucking wild? the thought still baffles him a year later—the knowledge that he wants you coming all over his tongue before he even takes his dick out.

and when you start mewling and gasping and losing your rhythm, he growls into that heaven and urges you to soak him in your pleasure. his fingers are fucking in and out of your tight hole while he makes out with your clit, knowing the exact moment when you come. your cunt clenches around his fingers before clear liquid comes out in spurts over him, drowning him in your juices.

"fuck, fuck fuck," he moans in between, drinking you up like a man starved. "keep going, baby. give it to me, give it all to me."

up in the clouds, you nod along absently, using his face to ride out your high. without thinking, you allow yourself to slide down the counter because you know that toji always catches you. he already expects your limp arms to wrap around his neck as he hoists you up to take you to bed.

kissing blindly against his throat, you begin gaining your senses. "still not gross, right?"

“pfft, look how fuckin’ hard I am for you.” toji scoffs, settling you down onto the mattress to fully remove your underwear. you whimper when your eyes meet the outline of his drooling cock. “I should kill the asshole that made you think that way, huh?”

you're still insecure about what you've done and it makes no sense to him. he finds it so attractive and exciting to see you unravel like that for him. still, because he's fucking soft, he always reassures you no matter how many times you need. his words are gruff and blunt but you appreciate it. your kindness and acceptance healed his remaining wounds, giving him a place to lay his head.

just as you’ve helped him work through his past, he’d do the same to you.

toji took you apart on your shared bed, your sweet moans and whines muffled by the storm that continued raging on into the early morning. sopping wet and aching to be filled, your cunt opened up for him perfectly. your gasps of toji, toji, toji, made him hazy enough to pray to gods he’s never believed in.

the cash that weighed down his jacket pocket meant nothing to him. it was merely a means to relieve his debt and nothing more. none of that would compare to the feel of your body against his in the dead of night—keeping you warm. the embrace of his future wife tethered toji to the earth. love was a peculiar thing.

#toji x reader

905 notes · View notes

mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Reverie

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x cryomancer!reader

Summary: In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge too).

Warnings: panic attack, implied abuse and violence, blood, reader is a Simp, it gets a bit morbid near the end lol, abrupt ending

Word count: 5.5k (sigh)

Notes: this fic made me realize just how much i struggle with character descriptions... but anyways this is a long request for literally the nicest anon ever, whoever you are i hope you enjoy this!

Masterlist | Part 2

Silence was something that you cherished.

Throughout the years, the numerous group homes, revolving door of foster parents, and whirlwind of schools you attended instilled a yearning for calm and quiet. A need for peace to soothe your daily anxieties.

Loud noises were bothersome, they reminded you of things better left forgotten which is why you put forth your best effort to avoid them wherever you ended up.

Nevermore Academy was no different.

Though it was a school for outcasts, it was still a school. A place that housed hundreds of rowdy, unruly teenagers for the better part of the year. And teenage outcasts were still teenagers.

You learned quickly to avoid the quad at all times of day except after curfew, the only time when it was completely empty save for some roaming teachers.

Lunches were spent in empty classrooms instead of the cafeteria and free time was spent exploring the campus for a place to claim as your own, like you have in every place you inhabited over the years.

But luck, it seemed, was not on your side because not a single place you found fit your needs.

Sure, there were quieter places like the library or the dorms (depending on the hour), but it was rare that found a place that offered actual meaningful silence.

Surprisingly, the solution to your problem came the moment you looked beyond the cramped campus of the school, and that solution was the forest.

The vast woodland that separated Nevermore and Jericho was thick, comprised of thousands of trees, and filled with life of all kinds—tall, vibrant green trees, a myriad of bird species, scampering squirrels, and even foxes during parts of the year.

Unfortunately, not all of the life that resided there was welcome. You heard whispers of something in the forest killing unsuspecting hikers and truckers. The mayor said it was bears, but you knew better.

Knowledge of the danger that lurked amongst the trees only made the woods that much more enticing to you. You trusted your ability to keep yourself safe with your powers. A wall of ice was a simple thing for you to create, but not for someone (or something) else to break.

The forest became your safe haven. Because of the murders, both students and Jericho residents alike tended to keep their distance, which made your solitude nearly guaranteed.

The chirping of birds in the distance and whistling of the trees in the wind made for a beautiful ambiance to read in. And it remained unequivocally yours for the first part of the semester.

Then a new student arrived mid-semester.

You never went out of your way to look for her, knowing you would hate that kind of attention yourself, but you still managed to see glimpses. Truthfully, she was hard to miss.

A girl dressed head to toe in black, twin braids framed a permanently impassive face, dead eyes set on the path in front of her. With her came a sense of foreboding, like storm clouds on the horizon. You would’ve sworn she was also a cryomancer with the way she seemed to chill the atmosphere around her.

Students parted like the Red Sea when she walked through the halls, determined to avoid her wrath. Given the few rumors you heard in passing across the school, you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

But those glimpses were few and far between, mere moments when your eyes caught a flash of monochrome, then she was gone.

She shared a handful of classes with you, but she was always seated across the room from you, just out of your sightline. By the time class ended and you got your things together to leave, she was on her way to her next class.

The first time you truly saw her was in passing.

You were at your spot in the woods, resting your back against the broad trunk of a tree as you read when the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Curious, you glanced up toward the sound and sure enough, there she was a few meters away heading in your direction.

She paused when your eyes met but remained silent. The only indication of surprise was the way her eyes narrowed, brows lowering ever so slightly.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone, you know,” she said. Her voice was cold as a winter breeze. You liked it, it suited her.

“I could say the same to you,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You kept your focus on your story, eyes dutifully scanning the sentences, but in your peripherals, you could see her still standing there.

Another moment passed before she resumed walking, heading off in the direction she had been going before and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lifted to the retreating figure, following her until she was completely out of sight.

A curious encounter, but not one you ended up giving much thought to.

Then she showed up again.

Only the very next day did she appear once more, the circumstances exactly the same as before. You read, she walked. Except this time she didn’t pause, just kept marching past you.

Same with the next day. And the next. And the next. You were almost convinced that you two had a pseudo routine when, with no warning, it changed.

One rather humid afternoon, you heard her footsteps and didn’t bother looking up, knowing she would just continue on her way. But today she didn’t. Today, her steps faltered as she went by you, and above your book, you saw her pivot.

Your eyes were drawn up by the unfamiliar movement. Brows furrowed, you watched as she settled against a tree opposite of you and rummaged around in her bag, pulling a textbook and paper out.

From where you were, you couldn’t see what the paper was, but the book you immediately recognized. It was a textbook for Botany—one of the few classes you shared with her. The paper must’ve been the homework that you finished in class.

You were almost tempted to offer your help, but you knew she had no need for it.

So you turned your attention back to your book, reading a bit slower with the distraction of the girl across from you.

The worksheet, unsurprisingly, took Wednesday all of ten minutes to complete, but she stayed there with you for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out a book after she finished the homework.

Not a word was spoken between either of you, not even an exchange of names. Just you, her, and the blissful, silent serenity of the forest around you.

She left at sundown, packing her things and walking away without sparing a glance your way. You left soon after, a smile pulling at your lips.

When she returned the next day, that same smile appeared. Even when she didn’t stop to sit.

Your pseudo routine had shifted.

Some days she left to venture into the forest, some days she stayed with you. And though you were content to just sit with her when she allowed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where she went off to on the days she chose to keep walking.

Your answer ended up coming from Enid. The girl had asked to sit next to you in Vampire Anatomy class and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Through the blog posts that Enid insisted you read, you learned that her name was Wednesday Addams, and she was trying to find the “monster” that lurked in Jericho’s forest.

Your existing interest was piqued after that. The urge to tag along with her pulled at you every time you watched her disappear into the forest, but you tried to ignore it.

Though true crime had always been a passing interest, it wasn’t something you knew quite enough about to be of any actual use to Wednesday.

Still, you couldn’t help but try.

When you asked to join Wednesday in her investigation, you expected a cold and firm no. Instead, she neither accepted nor declined your offer. Simply looked at you, normally dull eyes shining chaotic as lightning, then walked off into the forest, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

Thus began your actual new routine. You’d head to the forest after class, read until Wednesday arrived, and wait until she informed you of her afternoon plans.

If she sat against the tree that you’d begun to call hers, then the afternoon hours would be spent together in blissful silence. But if she didn’t, she would walk past you, only pausing briefly to spare you a glance, extending a silent invitation that you always accepted.

Afternoons that weren’t spent in the serenity of the forest were spent acquiring evidence, gathering information, and sussing out any potential suspects.

Weeks of slow, but steady progress were made (mostly by Wednesday) and you enjoyed every second of it.

She still didn’t offer up much information about herself—her likes and interests (aside from general morbidity) were never so much as alluded to during your time investigating, but you liked that.

In your mind, she was like a puzzle that not many had the patience to put together. But you enjoyed the intrigue, savored the challenge.

You kept much of your own history to yourself as well. If asked you would say that you did it in a bid to make yourself seem more mysterious, but really you just didn’t like talking about it.

The past was something you desperately just wanted to forget and Wednesday excelled at making you do just that, even if she didn’t know it.

Before you knew it, you found yourself falling for her in a way you never had before. But who could blame you, really?

A short, but statuesque figure with eyes like black ice and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks that put the stars to shame. How anyone couldn’t be entranced at first glance was beyond you.

Your closeness with Wednesday, even if only for professional purposes on her end, served to further the distance between you and your classmates but you didn’t particularly care. What they feared, you admired and while you could understand their fear, you couldn’t fathom ever being afraid of Wednesday. Even at her most grotesque, she was enchanting.

Stupid as it may be, you’d follow her anywhere. You knew that, once you exhausted your welcome, she would likely discard you, but until then you’d just sit back and enjoy the ride with her.

This sentiment led you to Outreach Day.

To put it simply, Outreach Day was a goddamn mess.

Part of your day was spent in a pilgrim-themed dystopian hellscape trying to find information on Joseph Crackstone, another deep in the forest behind Jericho, searching the dilapidated remains of a meeting house from centuries ago.

Naturally, this culminated in the two of you getting chased by the very monster you were trying to investigate, which certainly wasn’t part of your plans for the day when you woke up, but with Wednesday you never really knew what you were going to get.

Fortunately, your near-death experience wasn’t for naught because you had learned one incredibly important fact.

The monster, whatever it was, was human. It was someone that either lived in Jericho or attended Nevermore Academy with you and Wednesday. Likely, it was someone they had already interacted with, knowingly or not.

That thought haunted you the entire long walk back into Jericho. So much so that Wednesday had to tell you to calm down because you were freezing the rain around you into snow and leaving icy footprints wherever you walked.

By the time you stepped back into the town, you were ready to go to your dorm and call it a night. Thankfully, the day was almost over. The only thing standing between you and your bed was the stupid statue unveiling everyone was forced to attend.

You were walking to the town square when it happened.

Thoughts about the monster’s identity were just starting to abate, boredom taking its place as you entered Jericho proper. Wednesday was beside you, matching your strides perfectly while she talked with Thing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

Even in the middle of the day, the town wasn’t bustling (though when was it ever?). A few residents peppered the streets, going about their day quietly while you and Wednesday passed them.

You idly scanned the town goers, eyes snagging on a woman on the opposite end of the road who looked oddly familiar.

The woman had her head turned, appearing to be on the phone with someone. You watched her carefully, slowing your pace slightly, and when she finally turned her head, it instantly clicked.

Walking down that street was your former foster parent, Mary.

You could remember the day you met her like it was yesterday.

It had been years since you’d been adopted out and swiftly swept back into the system once your last family found out that you were an outcast. You’d been told that someone was finally interested in you again and you were overjoyed to meet them.

Mary was a tall woman with a kind smile and the name of a catholic saint. You weren’t religious, but you figured (hoped) that it had to mean something.

You thought her your savior, your ticket out of the system forever, and she ended up being responsible for the worst years of your life.

When you snapped back to the present, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wednesday was a few steps ahead, giving you a strange look. You wanted to explain or, better yet, grab her and drag her out of the town entirely, but it was too late. Mary was already looking your way.

Your eyes met and suddenly, you were twelve again. Angry shouts reverberated in your ears, mimicking the way they echoed off the cramped walls of the house. You saw yourself cowering in the face of her anger, shrinking into yourself as much as you could.

There was a flurry of movement, a sharp crack, and even now you swore you could feel the sting of the impact on your cheek.

She hated you, and you could still see remnants of that hatred now, even from across the street.

Distantly, you could hear Wednesday say something, but the sound was muffled by the roar of your blood in your ears. Despite the cool temperature, you were beginning to sweat, heart rate gradually picking up as you stared at the ghost from your past.

Mary hung up the phone and started toward you. That was all you needed.

The last thing you felt was the brush of cold fingers on your wrist before you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, feet carrying you as fast as physically possible. There was no real destination in mind, just away from her.

When the burning in your chest became unbearable, you stumbled into an alley. Your chest heaved and just as you were going to try and catch your breath, your legs crumpled beneath you, sending you careening into the nearest wall. You slid down to the ground and squeezed your knees to your chest.

Clarity evaded you no matter how much you tried to find it. You had seen people you knew in public before, even your other former foster parents, so you had no idea why seeing her was affecting you so badly.

Your heart pulsed endlessly in your chest, blood pumping through your veins like you were moving at a million miles per hour, yet you were frozen, your body permanently suspended in motion. A living contradiction that you couldn’t make any sense of.

The pain in your chest intensified, drawing your limbs in to try and relieve the ache. It felt as if your body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a dying star.

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were helpless to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as the ache grew.

For an awful moment, you genuinely thought you were going to die.

A flash of movement and suddenly there was something—no, someone in front of you. They crouched before you, their face coming into view and familiar dark orbs stared at you in a way you’d never seen before.

Wednesday.

Relief momentarily cut through your misery. You figured she would find you at some point, likely after the ceremony, but the fact that she was here now made something other than agony bubble in your chest.

Suddenly, you noticed that her lips were moving. She was saying something. You tried to focus your hearing against the chaos, but nothing could be heard over the erratic beating in your chest. Frustration mounted, making you further curl into yourself.

Wednesday moved a bit closer, stopping just short of you so she was the only thing in your line of sight. This time you were just able to catch the tail end of her statement. “-st look at me.”

You complied.

“Identify five things that you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud,” she instructed you, slowly and firmly.

You took in her words, but your eyes never strayed from her.

The first thing you saw was her eyes. So dark that they appear black in most settings, but under direct sunlight they reveal themselves to be the most beautiful shade of brown you’ve ever seen. Second was her hair, the way her wet fringe clumped together, forming short tendrils on her forehead.

Next, you were drawn to the starry sea of freckles on her cheeks. The temptation to try and count them tugged at you. You disregarded it, wanting to complete the task at hand for Wednesday.

Your eyes moved to trace her jaw, number four on your list. It was clenched, the way it always was when she was either angry or worried about something. You briefly wondered which one she felt now.

Her lips were the fifth and final feature you saw. You didn’t let yourself think about them for long, simply cataloged them.

Once you mentally documented all five, you looked to Wednesday, your breaths coming somewhat more consistently.

“Got it?” she asked, voice sounding a bit clearer now. You nodded. She continued. “Alright, now four things you can feel.”

You stiffly unclasped your hands and set them on the ground at your sides.

Surprisingly, the first thing you felt beneath your fingers was the solid frigidity of ice. In your panic, you must’ve partially frozen the alleyway around you. The warmth of the air around you told you that you hadn’t frozen too much, thankfully. You counted the temperature as your second.

Third, you felt the weight of your soaked clothes. The way they clung to your skin pulled a small grimace from you. That segwayed directly into the fourth thing you felt—your wet hair. Droplets of water were still running down the back of your neck from it, making you shiver. Lastly, you felt the rough, uneven texture of the brick wall at your back.

Moving up slightly, you turned back to Wednesday, who was watching you attentively, and gave her a firmer nod. The tension in your chest was beginning to dissipate.

“Three things you can hear.”

Your ears perked and you tried to focus on the noises around you. Even on its busiest days, Jericho was a relatively quiet little town, so it was easy to hear things you normally wouldn’t be able to in more densely populated places.

The first thing your ears picked up was the chime of a ringtone a block or two away. A pop song, the kind that Wednesday detested. Second was a loud giggle from someone that sounded suspiciously like Enid. The sound of it almost made you smile. And third, the clatter of a cup onto the ground and an angry curse that immediately followed it.

Someone must’ve dropped their coffee. Again, you almost smiled. Your heart began to slow in your chest, the ache there subsiding as well.

Eyes returning to the girl in front of you, you nodded.

“Two things you can smell.”

That was easy. Wednesday’s usual scent of old books and incense was present, mixed with traces of wet grass, a reminder of your earlier excursion. Another smell you could identify was the pungent odor of days-old garbage. Your nose scrunched. Of course, you chose an alleyway with a dumpster.

Your posture loosened, muscles relaxing as you sent Wednesday yet another nod.

“One thing you can taste.”

The metallic taste of blood on your tongue almost made you startle. Pain flared in your cheek, an answer to your question of where it came from. You weren’t sure when you bit it, and presently, you didn’t really care.

Swallowing harshly, you gave the girl before you a shaky thumbs up. The firm set of her jaw relaxed as she continued to observe you. You returned the favor, gently resting your chin on your knees as you watched her.

“Who was she?” she asked, tone softer than usual.

Not expecting the question, you blinked. “Hm?”

“The woman, who was she?”

You swallowed. This was never something you wanted Wednesday to know about, but you supposed she deserved some sort of explanation after helping you.

“Former foster parent. Just one of the many people to hurt me over the years,” you admitted with a wry chuckle.

Wednesday didn’t laugh.

The faint sound of instruments caught your attention. It seemed that you were officially missing the unveiling.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?” you asked, remembering Weems’ comment about Wednesday’s cello earlier that day.

“The Jericho high school band doesn’t need me. You do. Weems will get over it.” She maneuvered herself to sit down next to you, bringing her knees up to mimic your pose. The space between you was virtually nonexistent, but she still wasn’t quite touching you, which you appreciated.

A few minutes passed in silence. The lingering effects of your panic began to fade, leaving behind an all-encompassing tiredness that nearly made you slump over.

Beside you, Wednesday sat perfectly still, occasionally sending glances that you pretended not to notice for her sake.

The chill she emanated was too soothing for you to really care about it anyways. You resisted the urge to lean closer, to steal more of it for yourself. But you just further lowered your body temperature with your powers instead.

You rested your head back against the wall. Honestly, just being within such close proximity of Wednesday was nice. You swore you could stay sitting there all day with her if time allowed…

An explosion in the distance made you jump. Concerned, you turned to Wednesday who looked much too unsurprised for it to be a coincidence. Only now did you notice Thing’s conspicuous absence. Brows furrowing, you leaned forward. “Wednesday, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she replied easily, lips quirking at the screams of terror that arose from the town square. Promptly, she stood and tilted her head down at you. “Come on, we need to secure our seats at the back of the bus.”

A soft nod was all you could manage in response. Standing was more of a struggle than you anticipated, your exhaustion so heavy it felt as if it settled into your very bones and weighed your limbs down, but after a few attempts, you were on your feet.

The moment you gained a semblance of stability, Wednesday snagged your sleeve and tugged you out of the alley, her grip gentler than you’d expect as she guided you back to the bus. You didn’t miss the joyful spark in her eyes at the chaos unfolding around the town.

When you arrived at the bus, the door was wide open and your companion wasted no time hauling you both inside, immediately making a beeline for the back row. She stopped in front of the seats you occupied on the ride into Jericho, dropping your sleeve as she stepped aside for you to sit.

You gave her a tired smile, grateful that she was giving you the window this time, and collapsed onto the seat. Wednesday slipped in right after you, sitting noticeably closer this time. Close enough that her arm lightly rested against yours.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t dare point it out. You just rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

The slow arrival of other students and staff barely registered, your focus altering between the events of the hour prior, and the comfortingly cold weight of Wednesday’s arm pressing against yours.

The bus ride back to school passed by in a blur and you were being pulled off the bus by Wednesday before you even realized it had stopped.

In a similar fashion, Wednesday dragged you by the sleeve to your dorm, all but shoving you toward your closet once inside.

“Get changed and get some rest. I will return in a few hours after I deal with something,” she said, eyeing you as she edged back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, concerned that she would try to continue investigating by herself. Wednesday turned to you, and for a moment you were convinced she would tell you that “what she did was none of your concern” or just leave altogether without a word, but at the last second her demeanor shifted.

“It’s nothing to do with the monster. I won’t be putting myself in danger in any way, you have my word,” she assured you, tone firm. There was no room for argument, and if you were being honest, you were compelled to believe her anyway.

You nodded slowly. “Ok.”

She held your gaze for another second then turned and strode out the door. You stayed standing in your spot until her footsteps faded completely.

Fatigue weighed on you once more and that was enough motivation for you to quickly shower and change into dry clothes. You abandoned your discarded uniform in the bathroom to dry, halfheartedly trudging to your bed and flopping down on it.

Scattered thoughts littered your brain, taking you from one turbulent topic to the next. Crackstone, Wednesday’s vision, the monster, Mary—until Wednesday herself came up and instantly everything else was irrelevant.

You thought about the way she treated you today, how she helped you, how she touched you. It made you much happier than it ought to.

As your eyes slipped shut, you wondered about where she could be. You just hoped she was safe.

Finally, your exhaustion overtook you, thoughts of Wednesday sending you into a deep slumber.

Hours later, you were woken by a sharp knock on your door.

The harsh sound nearly sent you tumbling out of bed. You were half-tempted to not answer it, but Wednesday said she’d be back later and the last thing you wanted to do was keep her waiting.

So you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, smiling when you were met with Wednesday’s usual deadpan stare. She walked past you into your dorm, not bothering to wait for an invitation she knew you’d give her, and while you shut the door, you took the chance to look at her.

She appeared unharmed. Her uniform, now dry, was perfectly situated as always and not a single hair on her head was displaced. She looked as if she’d just returned from a peaceful walk through the woods, but something told you that was far from the truth.

Wednesday walked over to set her bag down on your desk, carefully slipping something out of it before turning to face you. She beckoned you over and you complied.

“I was told to give this to you.” She extended an envelope in your direction.

A brow raised as you took the envelope, inspecting it closely. You never got mail, so you were immediately suspicious, but it looked harmless enough. A simple, white envelope, entirely blank besides the small writing of your name on the back.

Curious, you ripped it open and to your surprise, it was a letter from Mary. The scrawl was messier than usual, almost panicked, but the handwriting was distinctly hers. You read through it slowly, your initial apprehension turning to disbelief.

The letter detailed all of her transgressions against you and how genuinely, unerringly apologetic she was for hurting you.

Under the body of text, her name was written in a red ink so dark, you’d think that it was blood… And there was a smudge of crimson at the bottom of the page. As if the ink had been crudely spilled onto the paper.

You knew you shouldn’t be finding enjoyment in this. Frankly, you should be terrified but the feeling that bloomed in your chest was the furthest thing from fear.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked, jaw set in determination. The look in her eyes told you that if you said no, she would go back to Mary and make her write another one. If she was still alive that is.

“Yes, it is,” you said, dumbfounded, “but you really didn’t need to do anything, Wednesday.”

“She deserved it,” she retorted, a touch of hostility in her tone. A beat. Then, “You said there were others. If you give me their names, I will hunt them down and seek retribution on your behalf.”

The declaration shouldn’t have made your cheeks warm, nor should the bloodthirsty look in her eyes, but it did. It was equal parts horrifying and charming—the perfect cocktail of emotions to get your heart racing.

Maybe Wednesday was starting to rub off on you more than you thought.

“That…won’t be necessary,” you said slowly. You knew you should just leave it; you really did. But you couldn’t help yourself. “How exactly did you find out where she was staying?”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on her lips, all traces of hostility replaced with blatant self-assuredness. “I have my ways.”

Her blatant cockiness pulled a laugh out of you, the first of the day in fact. You wondered if you were imagining the relief in Wednesday’s eyes at the sound. Turning back to the paper, you sobered a bit.

“Wednesday, seriously, thank you. This is more than most people have ever done for me,” you admitted. The ethics of whether you should be thanking her be damned, this was a touching gesture in your mind. Shameful or not, you were going to properly thank her.

The sudden emotional vulnerability seemed to catch her off guard, eyes widening slightly. But she caught herself quickly. Her eyes darkened a bit and her smirk softened, turning into something suspiciously akin to an actual smile. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Another wave of warmth rushed through you, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible on your cheeks. It struck you that this was the first time you’d ever seen a (possibly) genuine smile on her face.

With that, the room lapsed into silence and like always, you let it sit between you.

She, too, let the quiet linger, holding your gaze with a confidence only she possessed. For just a moment, her eyes flicked downward, the movement so fast it was nearly imperceptible.

Nearly.

It was over just as quickly as it began and by the time you properly registered it, Wednesday was straightening up, dark eyes fixed on yours once more.

“Our investigation will resume tomorrow assuming there are no more unplanned interruptions. Meet me in my dorm after classes tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, still trying to figure out if what you saw was real or another possible figment of your imagination.

She headed for the door, and you panicked. You wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay for just one more moment. But nothing came to mind (nothing you had the courage to say, anyways).

Suddenly, she paused, turned to face you once more.

“Good night.”

You smiled. “Good night, Wednesday.”

A final nod and she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Again, you stayed there until the echo of her footsteps was no more. You looked down at the letter in your hand, pursing your lips. Reluctantly, you set it down on your desk. You would unpack all of your feelings regarding it later. Now, you had more pressing things to deal with.

For the second time, you flopped onto your bed, but this time, sleep was the last thing on your mind. In its place was the girl that chilled you with her presence mere minutes prior.

The smile on your face was immovable, as if it were permanently etched into your skin. You replayed the conversation over and over again in your head, highlighting the moments before she left.

You wondered, maybe pointlessly, if she could possibly like you back… Either way, you supposed it didn’t really matter now.

Even if she didn’t feel what you did, today’s ministrations proved that she at least cared for you on some level. That simple fact was enough to send you into a high unlike any other.

The idea of her actually reciprocating your feelings only propelled you further, your giddiness threatening to swallow you whole as you lay in your bed.

You spent the remainder of your night in a quiet daze, your mind consumed with nothing but familiar obsidian eyes and an addictively deadly smirk.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #cryomancer is easily one of the coolest words i've ever seen btw #like look at that shit. it's awesome #oh and no offense to anyone named mary btw #i knew a very nice girl with that name #it was just the first thing i thought of while writing-

906 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 9 months

Note

❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜ + ❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜ w/ fanboy ? 🫣

FOOLS FOR FALLING IN LOVE

a/n: babes!! when i had started this, i had just recently rewatched top gun maverick which means the inspo for this man was through the roof. i kind of went overboard a bit and turned it into a long ass one shot. (even going so far as to giving it a moodboard). if it's alright with you i only used the first prompt due to someone requesting the second already. i swear this fic was meant to be short, but then again it's fanboy and i can never help myself. so enjoy this monster.

summary: pining after your best friend never ended well. however in the case of said best friend being mickey garcia, things turn out better than expected.

word count: 3.7k+

pairing: mickey "fanboy" garcia x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, flirting amongst friends, friends to lovers, pining, exhibitionism (seriously idk what happened), cumplay, cumeating, thigh riding, oblivious idiots falling madly in love.

It was just drinks they said. Just a group of people who were there to laugh, enjoy each other’s company, and eventually go home at some ungodly hour. That’s what you expected when you walked into the bar. Ready to nurse one beer, talk to Phoenix about your work issues, and go home.

Quick. Easy. Painless.

At least the hangover part the next day was.

What you didn’t expect was to find him sitting there, talking with Bob as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. You had half a mind to turn around and head back to your car—try this socializing bit on a different day. But Rooster’s arm was slinging around your shoulder, tugging you into a warm and rather hard body. You had to be careful not to trip over your sneaker as he dragged you with him. Never bothering to check if you were actually in step with him.

“Look who I found!” he shouted, his breath giving away the exact number of drinks he had.

“Rooster,” you hissed, trying to pull away before he made you sweat too.

“Leave her alone,” Phoenix chastised, finally yanking you free from his tight grasp. “You’re drunk off your ass Rooster. Sober up or you won’t be getting anywhere near the pilot’s seat tomorrow.”

You sighed in relief as she led you to the bar, signaling to Penny to put another beer on her tab for you. “He’s pretty touchy feely tonight.”

She laughed. “Yeah well he just got permission for a week off next month. I’m pretty sure he’s over the moon for a break.”

“Definitely sounds nice.”

It’s not that you didn’t want to make conversation with Phoenix. You looked forward to seeing her, hearing all the juicy details about what went on in the Top Gun halls. Hell you were even interested in what current feud Hangman and Rooster were stuck in this week. Tonight however, you were barely comprehending a single word she said. Your brain, lagging—unable to catch up fast enough.

You could see her hands moving animatedly as she spoke, lips moving fast, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Because he was sitting mere feet away, eyes fixed entirely on you. The burn from his stare singed through the thin dress you wore to combat the current heat wave outside. Even though you remained focused on Phoenix, you could tell he was in the exact same situation as you.

Transfixed by the utter longing that tore at your chests. Clawing for a way to get out.

“So that’s how I ended up fucking Hangman.”

You nearly choked on your spit. “What?”

“Ah there you are.” She grinned, taking a sip of her beer. “I’ve been talking for the past five minutes and you’ve been completely out of it.”

“Sorry.” You scraped your nail on the bottle’s label, attempting to refocus your attention on Phoenix, but it seemed to be too late. She had figured out where your mind had drifted off to.

“You know you can talk to him right?”

“What are you…”

“Fanboy.”

Was it that obvious that you were unable to even keep your composure in the same room as him? Your mouth opened and closed, words evading you as her lips pulled up into a shit eating grin. You could hear the words echo in your head: Got you. She knew you were close with Mickey. The two of you became fast friends a year ago, bonding over scifi shows and comic books.

But then he left. You understood he couldn’t be around for months at a time; his job came before everything and you accepted that. However, four months without his presence left you feeling empty in a way you couldn’t fully describe, even if you wanted to. He was the sunlight on your dark days. The warmth you clung to when life turned cold. And he was gone.

It didn’t take you long to realize how evident your feelings for him were. Which also meant…it took Phoenix less time.

You coughed, swallowing your beer to avoid giving her a response, but it was clear by the expression on her face that you weren’t getting off that easy. She sighed as if you were one of her irritable students who refused to see reason. When in fact, you were her oblivious friend who couldn’t see past your own fear to finally realize that Mickey was head over heels in love with you.

“Explains why he’s been sulking all day.”

That caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been back in town for two days.” You nodded, remembering the text he sent you a week before with his flight details. “And have you spoken to him in person yet?”

She knew she caught you when you averted your gaze to the bartop. “I figured he was busy.”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes snapped to her. “It’s not—”

“You just figured you could avoid him and hope your feelings disappeared.” Heat crept up your cheeks, but she wasn’t done with you. Far from it. “Meanwhile Fanboy’s been acting like a kicked puppy for two days and none of us could figure out why.”

“He hasn’t been—” Her glare cut you off, forcing your eyes to wander back to where he sat rather quietly.

Most nights he was one of the loudest people there. Laughing and spouting jokes funny enough to have you in stitches. Except for tonight. His eyes were cast anywhere but you, smile only showing when he forced it. But even then, it never quite reached his eyes. All in all, he looked exactly like Phoenix described him. A man who couldn’t figure out why one of his best friends was avoiding him like he was the plague.

You felt the heavy weight of guilt settle in the bottom of your stomach, turning the taste of your beer sour. He’d been gone long enough for you to miss him. But it never occurred to you how much he’d miss you.

Before you could wrangle the remaining courage in your body and get up from the stool, his eyes traveled back to yours. Meeting them for the first time that night. He sat up a bit straighter, the small grin you loved so much making a reappearance as he sent a small wave your way. A peace offering that would hopefully lead to more.

You found yourself unable to stop the smile that spread across your lips. The familiar lick of warmth, coursing through your body.

He was your best friend. The man you spoke to on the phone for hours at a time while he was away. You sent him letters, various comics, and care packages full of his favorite kind of cookies. Even going so far as to send him cheesy holiday cards full of Star Trek references that you knew would make him smile.

He was your best friend…and you were completely in love with him.

Phoenix nudged your knee with hers, jutting her head in his direction. Only you were too late on that front. Mickey was already getting up, excusing himself from the group’s conversation, and heading your way. The familiar standard issue khaki uniform he had to wear did nothing to hide the strong shoulders you knew lay beneath the fabric. Simply watching him maneuver his way through the overcrowded bar towards you, took your breath away.

“What do I say?” you said under your breath, leaning closer to Phoenix.

She shrugged, grabbing the full beer in front of her that she asked Penny for. “Tell him you want to get married.”

You spluttered, trying not to choke on your beer. “I can’t say that!”

“Can’t say what?”

The all too familiar deep vibrato of his voice caused your whole body to stiffen in your seat. Embarrassment washing over you at the realization that he had heard you. Phoenix however was more than happy to slide out of his way, pressing the cold beer into his hands, and muttering what you believed to be a quick: Don’t fuck this up.

You had half a mind to drag her back just to get some more context, but Mickey sitting down, his knees pressing on the outside of your thighs drew your attention to him. He smiled and took a sip of the beer. And you tried your best to ignore the searing heat that came with watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

The silence that grew between you the longer he sat there was deafening. So much so that you found yourself half tempted to drag him outside where nobody could see you. At least maybe you’d finally have a chance to get the truth out. Or if not the truth, then some form of words strung together to make a single sentence. That was a better option than sitting there staring at him like an idiot.

“Welcome back,” you blurted out, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart.

He smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner. Works been keeping me busy and I—”

His hand on your knee caused the remainder of your rant to die in the back of your throat. “I figured you were occupied. So it’s alright.”

“It is?” you asked, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the raucous noise of the bar.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He shrugged, his hand never moving higher and never pulling away. You swore your heart had stopped beating the second his warm palm touched your bare skin—your eyes dropping down quickly to see the veins that spread beneath the skin.

Shifting slightly, you tamped down the emotions that ran rampant in your mind. Whatever you were feeling—or dreaming about—wasn’t going to happen tonight. If you were being entirely honest with yourself, it didn’t seem like a possibility that would come to fruition at any time. Which meant you were stuck in this neverending pit of pining over your best friend. Part of you wished Mickey could read minds just so you wouldn’t have to say the words yourself.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” The words came before you could stop them—fully revealing that you were in fact avoiding him. “I mean…I wasn’t…um…”

“Right,” he said, his hand pulling away and eyes shifting back to the bar.

You could physically see his walls begin to close up, the light that had reappeared in his eyes, now vanishing from sight. It wasn’t until then did you realize that saying the words wasn’t the hard part. No, in fact you found you could say them in an instant if you had to. The hard part was the possibility of losing him for good. The fear of him never reciprocating your feelings held you back—causing the chasm in your heart to grow every second.

“No, wait.” You grabbed onto his wrist lightly, catching sight of the disappointment in his eyes, and it broke your heart. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

You sighed. “Can we go outside? Away from all this noise?”

Mickey was standing up faster than you expected him too, digging out enough cash to toss on the bar for Penny before taking your hand in his. You didn’t fight the small grin that appeared on your lips this time. There was just something about him that pulled on the strings of happiness in your chest. That made you want to always see the good in the world—the good that you knew resided in him.

“Slow down,” you called, trying to keep up the pace as he practically sprinted towards the parking lot. You caught sight of his familiar dark blue car—having been in it more times than you could count.

“Sorry,” he replied, giving you a chance to catch your breath. “I figured you wanted out of there quickly.”

“I did.” How the fuck were you supposed to go about things now? When it was just the two of you standing there, his back pressed to the passenger door of his car.

You tried to ignore the way he looked—how the soft lights from the bar played across his face. Turning him into an almost ethereal painting you were visiting in a museum. It took your breath away and for a moment you remained silent. Watching as his eyes took in your features, his chest rising and falling with each breath. There wasn’t a better moment to kiss him than right now. Except your doubts began to rear their ugly head again.

A bitter heat crept up the back of your neck as you turned your attention to the rest of the parking lot. Trying—and failing—to come up with something to say. You just never expected Mickey to beat you to the punch.

“Don’t do that,” he said. Your eyes snapped back to him, catching the glimmer of dejection in his eyes.

“Do what?” You knew exactly what he was talking about and playing it coy wouldn’t stop him from pressing even further. It was a quality about him you both loved and hated. He would never stop until you told him the truth.

“Don’t hide from me.” His hand still held onto yours, thumb pressing gently along your knuckles. “What’s going on with you huh? What aren’t you telling me?”

You let out a breath, attempting to get a hold of the nerves that seemed intent on keeping you quiet. “I like you.”

He paused, eyes taking in the panicked expression on your face. You half expected him to say something in return—anything to appease whatever it was you were dealing with. But he didn’t. Instead he watched, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as if trying to soak in the full extent of your words. I like you wasn’t much to go on, you’d give him that.

So you continued. “I’ve liked you for a while—although like is probably not the right word to describe how I feel about you. And I understand if you just want to remain friends. If it’s…easier that way. Or even if this is the end—”

He yanked you forward, his hand cupping your cheek to turn your face towards his. Lips capturing yours in a kiss that left you sinking into his chest, a soft moan emitting from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Mickey kissed you like it had been the only thing on his mind since you first met. He licked into your mouth, dragging out sounds you didn’t know you could make—his hand wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you pressed close.

He kissed you as if he would never get the chance to again.

“Mickey,” you sighed, his lips sliding along your jaw, other hand pressing tightly to your waist to press your hips against his.

“I love you,” he murmured, bunching up the back of your dress as heat quickly filled your senses.

“You…” Tilting your head back, you tried to gain some sense of control over your thoughts. He however seemed adamant on keeping you right where you were. That is…until his words finally registered. “You love me?” you exclaimed, pulling away—much to his disappointment.

His smile was sheepish, red staining his cheeks and the very tips of his ears. “Have for a while now mi vida.”

Heat burned beneath your cheeks at the small nickname—the words burrowing deep in your heart. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He had you there.

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging his lips back to yours. “I love you mi amor. More than you know.”

A sound pulled from his throat—high and wanting. It was pressed into your mouth, his hands grasping parts of you that he had only dreamed of touching. Scrunching up the side of your dress, his hand slid up your thigh, digging into the plush skin as you moaned against him. You were right outside of the bar where anyone could walk out and see you. Yet neither of you cared.

Licking into his mouth, you dug your hands into his newly grown out short curls—your nails scraping against his scalp. He shivered, pulling you even closer and slotting his thigh between your legs. Giving you something to press down on.

That alone stirred something in the base of your stomach. A molten heat sliding through your veins until you were putty in his hands. Mickey seemed to sense the shift—your needy whine a slight beg for more—and began to guide your hips along his leg. The wet patch you knew was on your panties, now seeping into the light color of his khakis.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head falling back and hands grasping onto the front of his shirt. “M-Mickey.”

“Mhm?” he hummed against your throat, teeth digging in until it sparked pain through you.

“I need—ah—” His grip on your hip grew tighter, thigh bumping up and pressing against your clit perfectly. “I need more.”

He shuddered, his lips colliding against yours in a heady kiss. This one was different. You could taste the desperation on his tongue as he took you apart with his mouth. He wanted to leave you breathless. To see you writhe because of him and have you begging for more. And you’d give into him without question. You’d give him whatever he desired, because he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

“Say you want me, and I’m yours,” he breathed, pulling you along his thigh harder.

Your knee pressed against him, grinding against him with each movement and you visibly watched him chase his high. He bucked his hips, desperate for the minimal amount of friction. A moan tore from his throat, his lips sliding along your jaw, hand shifting to grip your ass tightly. You wanted to give him that high. To watch him combust as you did. But you were lost to the sensations sparking through your body.

Something built in your stomach, pulling impossibly tight. You felt it grow—driving you so high that you were certain you’d go mad if you didn’t have it in your grasp. He pushed and pulled your body until you were a whimpering mess against him. His name was a reverent prayer you pressed into his mouth in the hopes he’d answer your greatest wish. To feel his love pour into you—captivate you so entirely you’d never be rid of it.

“I-I want you,” you stammered, your eyes hazy with lust.

“C’mon then.” He slid his hand down the front of your body, fingers dipping into the sopping mess that was your panties and finding your clit with ease. “Think you can cum like this mi vida?”

You nodded frantically, moving your hips to catch the friction of his fingers. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when he began to whisper praise against your skin. Kissing down your chest until he reached the top of your dress. Something in your brain begged him to pull it down. To keep going. But you understood the risk with being outside still. Neither of you wanted to get caught; the both of you would never live it down.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers pressing down harder—face lighting up at the sight of your eyes rolling back.

He yanked you back to him, lips sliding against your own as you shattered in his arms. It burned through you, causing your whole body to shake and your breath to catch in your lungs. Rather than pull away entirely, he kept going. Prolonging the pleasure until there wasn’t anything you could do. A muffled cry echoed around the parking lot and it took you a moment to realize that you were the one who made the sound.

Mickey gasped, his hips canting up against you in search of that same feeling. So you pulled on his curls, dragging his lips back to yours as his fingers still pressed firm circles around your clit.

“I love you Mickey.” You pressed the words against his jaw, watching as his eyes fluttered shut, his brows pulling tight. He managed to quickly muffle his moan against your neck, his whole body shuddering in your grasp and a soft whine of your name echoing in your ears.

Yet he never stopped his fingers from moving. Two of them gathering your cum that steadily leaked out and sliding them up to your clit. Sending another soft wave of pleasure through your body. You wanted to remain there. Forever stuck in this moment with him. But you knew the faster you managed to get home, the better the odds were for the both of you.

“I can’t,” you gasped, grasping onto this wrist to stop him from shifting the overstimulation into an uncomfortable pain.

Before you could ask him to take you home, he was rendering you speechless—slipping his shiny coated fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste. Your clit throbbed and for a moment you felt dizzy. Even as he held you upright. You watched his tongue peek out, wondering how it might feel against you. And once more the heat began to build again, causing your imagination to spin out of control.

“Mi vida?” he asked, pulling from your haze. His small smile let you know he had figured out what you were thinking—already halfway to teasing the answer out of you.

“Take me home Mickey,” you croaked, unable to wait any longer. “I want you.”

His eyes softened, fingers gently pinching your chin as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Pouring all the emotion he ever said aloud into you. This was it. The moment that would replay in your head for the rest of your life. Mickey Garcia smiling sweetly, his hands caressing your hips to soothe the ache of his tight hold—love shining in his eyes. You felt your heart leap in your chest, breath once more getting stolen just by his mere proximity.

“I’m yours.”

#mickey garcia x f!reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x y/n #mickey 'fanboy' garcia #fanboy x f!reader #fanboy x you #fanboy x reader #top gun: maverick #mickey garcia smut #my writing #sinful soiree🥀

216 notes · View notes

fatal-iistic · 8 months

Text

the lioness' den

Summary: From request, you're a reckless fool. No one would foresee that surrogate soldier to Urzikstan's Freedom Fighters would capture their Commander's affections.

Pairings: Farah Karim x Reader (written for female but could be perceived as GN)

Warnings: Blood, gore, war, Farah Karim is actually a soft woman, soft, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

You’re alive.

But you might as well be dead.

There’s no way Farah is going to forgive me for this.

Strict orders. Commander Karim didn’t take insubordination lightly – she might not be a tyrant like Barkov or the al-Qatala regime, but she demanded order and respect. And you are notorious for pushing those limits. It’s a wonder that, after three years of fighting alongside Farah and her Freedom Fighters, you haven’t been amiably dismissed.

You are, after all, a surrogate to her cause.

Military-trained and already involved in the conflicts embedded deep within Urzikstan, you’d been injured in Sakhra when al-Qatala laid siege to the US Embassy, left for dead somewhere in the streets. US intel had labeled you KIA. The people of Urzikstan had taken you in and nursed your wounds for nearly two weeks before you were well enough to operate on your own.

Things were murky with the Embassy fallen. Getting news back to the States of your proof of life became complicated. You were forced to remain living amongst the citizens of the Republic of Adel, but what had been an inconvenience became a change in your life.

Al’umu, Mother, the matriarch of the family that fostered you, had told you about the struggles of Urzikstan, the things that didn’t make the media. You walked those streets after al-Qatala and the NATO armies had lain waste to them, seeing the devastation these people lived on a daily. Children playing ball amongst debris. Storekeepers still stayed afloat even after half of their front had been blown to shreds by bullet holes.

Life went on – what else could they do?

You'd met Commander Karim in Sakhra. She was the catalyst of the Freedom Fighters, their fearless leader. Al’umu introduced you fervently, even though you’d insisted there was no point in you wasting the commander's time. Yet despite that notion, Farah thanked you for being here to fight, even though it was her people you were indebted to at the set of the sun. You joined her Freedom Fighters – no questions asked. Sent messages to your family back home but remained in Adel.

It's a strange case – an 'outsider' shouldering the ranks of Urzikstan's rebels. You hadn't been the only one to do so – but you'd become the most remarkable considering the proximity you'd gained with the Commander.

You’d become a military asset but somehow garnered favor with the commander. While soliciting eye rolls and scoffs from Farah, your dry humor and quick wit must’ve done measures to charm her. Your affections grew bolder, affections that Farah kept at arm's length but never entirely denied. You continued to spin that web, and even Urzikstan’s fearless commander couldn’t free herself from it.

Fingers wrap around your side, hugging blood-stained fabric over the wound on your side. You’d taken a bullet into the side, though it seemed superficial. You hadn’t spent much time assessing the damage thoroughly, just enough to declare that no metal was lodged into your abdomen. Hamza helps you out of the truck, assisting you towards the outpost.

Your eyes scan tentatively for Farah. A gut feeling that you were about to receive the reprimand of a lifetime – and you’d passed elite selection for the USMC.

“Where are they?” You can hear Farah’s voice sharply over the hustle of the outpost. Your eyes rivet upwards to see her pushing past her soldiers, eyes locked onto you like a honing system.

Lips curl into a failing smile. “Farah,” you murmur.

Her fingers latch to the fabric of your shirt, near the collarbones, hoisting you upright and out of Hamza’s hold. You catch a gasp in your throat, growling slightly as the pain sends shockwaves through your frame.

“What the hell happened?” she demands. Dark amber eyes flash. She is a lioness. Teeth bared. Hackles raised.

You'd always feared her like one would a wild predator. Much of your existence was holding a lion by the tail with Farah. She could easily swoop and swipe, depleting your existence if she pleased. Yet most days, she serviced you with mercy (you joked about mercy, when others made indiscreet whispers about you two).

Despite your willingness to push boundaries – both off and on the battlefield.

“Farah, Farah,” you grimace. Your lungs hitch against the edges of your ribs as she procures you. Pain sizzles up your spine, igniting the receptors of your cranium as you wheeze. “I’m alive. But you’re pushing my luck.”

An expression of panicked horror flickers from her face before her palms release the vice grip on your shirt. You stumble, Hamza lunging swiftly to stabilize you. Farah also reaches, recognizing her plight only a second too late. She cradles her arms under your shoulders as you fall into her chest.

"Easy," you exhale. Composing your bearings, you rock back onto your heels and straighten your torso. Farah's arms remain circled close to you, while Hamza's hands hover near your shoulders. You shift a bit, tossing your companions a half-lucid, toothy grin. "See?"

Skepticism permeates the air. Farah grips your arm, directing you to a place to sit on a nearby crate. You take a seat, wincing as the wound along your side ripples while you maneuver. Teeth raze against the inner flesh of your cheek. You throw your head back with an agonized shutter.

She grabs the bloodied hem of your shirt, hiking the fabric up to expose the seeping wound at your side. It had been a superficial wound, taking more flesh and soft tissue than anything of importance. The mere issue that remained, though, was the enormity the 5.56 caliber rounds used by al-Qatala and how they shredded flesh. The measly bandage applied hours ago is nothing but a crimson-stained rag tied to your side.

Peeling the previous bandage away, you bite into your lip as the movement sends prickles of pain through your system. You dig fingernails into your palms until your knuckles are stark white and little bruises form under the crescents of your nails. Farah discards the rag, reaching for a clean towel and dousing it with a clear substance – some form of disinfecting alcohol, you presume (you weren't a medic).

“How did you get injured?" Farah demands with controlled sternness. She keeps her tone tame, both for your humility and hers. "You weren’t supposed to be near the combat."

“Things didn’t go as planned,” you defend. Jaw locks. You gaze up with a bolster of defiance seeping through your veins.

She curses in Arabic. Words you recognize, words you don't. Without forewarning, she holds the damp towel to your wound. You squirm, choking on your tongue to stifle your whimper.

"Fucking Christ, Farah," you growl. You slam a fist into the crate. The ghost of tears burning the edges of your eyes. "Warn me."

She stares up with the smug playfulness of a lion cub. Damn proud of how savage she could be. You'd really asked for it, hadn't you? Playing too close to the enclosure of a deadly predator? Toying the faint lines of goodwill and whatever blossomed between you two.

Like storing C4 next to a faulty electrical outlet.

"If you had listened to me, to my orders, you wouldn't be injured," she remarks frigidly. The ice almost penetrates through your chest, humiliation melting into the jagged cracks of your ribs.

You blink, chin dropping as you escape from her scrutiny. "Ask Hamza or Amir or anyone. Things went to shit," you reply surely, clearing your throat before looking back at her. "You know I can't stand by and let people die."

"My soldiers know the risks," Farah counters. "Your role was essential to–"

"I am your soldier too," you interject.

A stunned silence wedges its way in between you two. Air thick with tension that could be serrated by a knife.

"What?" Farah utters.

"Don't speak to me like I'm an external source," you argue, limbs taut. "You've said it yourself then why do you treat me like I'm just an add-on? Like I'm not truly in this cause."

"I-I…"

"Am I a Freedom Fighter, or just some ex-soldier you picked up out of sympathy? Tell me the truth on what you see in me, Farah."

"Don't be ridiculous," she rebukes. You can see her chew on the inside of her mouth thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing as she declares, "You are a Freedom Fighter."

You wilt a bit. Reassured. She presses the clean gauze into your wound, while one arm reaches to caress your jaw for a moment gently. Your breath hinges in your chest as her fingers dance away, back to your side. She makes quick work of patching the wound back up, covering it with your bloody shirt.

"If I give you orders to stay away from combat, you better pay heed to them," she states haughtily, gazing back with fiery eyes, like a lioness. She lingers close to your orbit, fingers absent-mindedly playing with the bottom buttons of your shirt. In the stillness of the moment, you can feel the exhalation of her lungs brush against your cheeks.

You give her a wry smile, smirking. “You said it yourself,” you remark, “we don’t follow logic. We follow what works.”

She tilts her forehead against yours, nose brushing against your own. A coarse chuckle rattles in her chest as she caresses the side of your face.

“Satakun mwti, (You will be the death of me)” Farah breathes.

You smile flippantly. “I don’t know what the hell that means,” you croak.

Her eyes dance to yours. The specter of a smile teases the edges of her lips as she leans back an inch. Tilting her head, she takes the sight of you in before pressing a gentle kiss along your sweat-salted forehead.

“It’s nothing in particular,” she hums. “Just know that ‘uhibuk (I love you).”

You grin, teeth flashing as you edge closer to brush your own lips to hers. You danced a line fine with the queen of the jungle within your grasp, but you were unafraid. You’d never tame her wildness and valiance, but you could live alongside it without fearing for your life. That was all you’d ask for.

“I know that one,” you chuckle proudly. “I love you, too.”

#farah karim #cod fanfic #cod requests #farah karim x reader #fatal-iistic writes #request #modern warfare 2019 #cod mw

286 notes · View notes

blog-name-idk · 11 months

Text

The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

327 notes · View notes

lightlycareless · 2 months

Note

Heyy !!

I just wanted to request if you could write something about Naoya punishing us🤭😭 you can choose why he’s punishing us cuz I don’t have any ideas ;)

And like I was rereading some chapters of your fic with Naoya and omg like , your writing is really good I literally felt in a romance book , the way you wrote each character is amazing too and I just really appreciate your work I hope you will keep writing it 😭

Heya anon!!

Of course!!! I actually had to think a bit as to how he'd punish us... or more like how I would write it, since these are two things I'm not really that experienced with yet (Naoya is always rough, I mean, when does it become a punishment? or so that's my perception lol)

But I eventually settled with something I wanted to try :) I feel like Naoya would really love doing something like this when he's not that involved with you (He's busy lmao)

Anyways, here are the warnings: slight exhibitionism? One of Naoya's brother's got very unlucky. Use of vibrators, plugs, or so. kind of dub-con if you think about it, Naoya is also a manipulator, you're an enabler. Minors DNI!!!

Now, without further a do, happy reading!

“Y/N, are you… alright?” After much debate, a member of your staff member, Mariya, says after silently observing the rising fluster of your cheeks or the slightest hesitation in your usually nimble hands.

“Ye—yeah.” You murmur, taking breath and exhaling. “I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Oh, are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” she suggests, which you deny almost immediately by shaking your head.

“No, I just—I’ll be fine.” You insist, and Mariya begrudgingly lets you continue, attempting her best to move past her concern and focus on her duties.

But when she sees you struggle on the simplest of tasks yet again, she’s quickly reminded that more than helping you complete your duties, she’s there to ensure your well-being; so, after relegating part of your responsibilities to nearby staff, and essentially forcing you to accept this change, Mariya leads you onto your bedroom, intending to let you rest and recover—

Until bumping onto Naoya on the way there, who after taking a quick glance at your dismayed appearance, immediately relieves Mariya of her obligations and takes you to the bedroom himself.

A gesture she takes with great elation, glad that your husband had always been attentive to you—no doubt in her mind that you’re in much better hands now…

If only he weren’t the reason behind your ailment.

“So much for holding decorum, my love…” he says upon firmly closing the door behind him. A tone so threatening, you quickly turn around to face him and spew out your defense.

“Naoya—I wasn’t—Mariya didn’t—” you gasp.

“No, I get it.” He says. “She’s your friend, your loyal companion, someone that gives you security. Were you intending to gang up on me with her, perhaps? Use her to avoid the inevitable?”

“What? N—no…!” you fretted, he closes the distance between the two. “Nao—ya—”

“On the futon—now.”

You obey immediately, making your way over to the futon and taking a seat just by the edge, fingers fidgeting amongst with other before mustering enough courage to glance up to him, flinching when seeing the smirk on his face, the indication his following acts would be nothing but etched with dark intentions—

Something you were nothing but fearful, and unprepared to face.

“You know what you ought to be doing, princess” Naoya says as he walks over to you. You try your best to move away from him, far and safe from his retribution…

But too deep into your own terror, all you could do instead is whimper as you remained there, anxiously taking in the scrutinizing way his eyes scan your body.

If he noticed the result of such struggle, he did not say. Yet, it wouldn’t take much to guess that your reaction, far from offending him, would only excite him.

“Don’t act all innocent now, it’s unbefitting of a whore like you.” He frowns. “Do not make me repeat myself.’

Pushing through the fear and embarrassment your following actions were to provide, your hands carefully grip the edges of your kimono skirt and lift it, effectively revealing the culprit behind your shaky morning, a sight that makes Naoya’s satisfaction grow, kneeling to your level so he could get a better look at the situation you’ve gotten yourself in—

All because you were a needy princess for attention.

Filling your cunt, was a vibrator that had been diligently working the moment Naoya placed it within you early in the morning—faithfully keeping you company throughout your various duties while he cruelly played with its settings from afar.

He’d either give you a false sense of comfort by lowering the vibrations, almost undetectable, enough to allow your mind to dwell onto other matters… before reminding you of your naivety by rising it to the maximum and forcing you onto disconcerting consequences.

There was no way Naoya knew where you were, or whom you were with when alternating between settings, but you wouldn’t put it beneath him to have found a way to do so—specially with what happened earlier: to the moment you were pushed dangerously close to the edge, a simple matter of enduring few more seconds of stimulation before coming undone—

And right before one of his brothers, the most innocent of all: Naofumi.

At that, you couldn’t help but suspect Naoya knew what you were doing all along, carefully planning the moment where Naofumi would naturally worry if you were ok, if you’ve perhaps been struck with an unprecedented sickness, and if there was something he could do to help you…

Before finally placing the pieces together the longer your heavy breathing went on, as the color in your cheeks deepened.

Once evident, Naofumi quickly excused himself and sprinted past the door, into the hallways and away from the scaring image of his sister-in-law having an orgasm right before him.

Oh, Naoya would’ve undoubtedly killed to see something like that.

But for now, he supposes he’ll do with what he has now.

“Fits you quite well, doesn’t it?” he says, fingers teasingly sliding across the edge of your lips, giving them a light pull and getting a better view of its lovely pink color, before licking his lips at the way your bud twitches, eventually refocusing on the other equally cruel part of this intricate arrangement:

A nicely fitting plug placed in your ass, capable of stimulating your greedy rim through various vibrations, yet decorated with a beautiful shiny pink jewel—because a desperate princess like you still deserved only the nicest.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to satisfy your needy holes, but of course, my beautiful wife can never disappoint.”

Unless, of course, when you did.

“Naoya—” you whine, invertedly pushing your hips into his touch, crying when he pulls away. “Naoya please—”

“Are you serious?” He laughs, as if he couldn’t find your behavior any more amusing. “Didn’t you have enough today? You still want more?”

“I want—I want you—” you breathe, trying to rub your legs together, his hands stop you.

“Of course you do, slut.” Naoya spats. “Can’t get enough of that can you? It’s how you got into this situation, after all—because like the desperate whore you are, you always have to be looking for someone to fuck you.”

“No— No Naoya.” You frantically shake your head, before trying your best to reach for him—Naoya pushes you back. “I only want you!”

“That’s not what it looked like that day.” He growls, releasing his grasp over you, soon hearing his pants unfastening—the sight and sound sends a jolt of heat towards your cunt, making you clench in eagerness. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I would never—ah!” Naoya shuts you by landing his hand against your cunt, a loud slap and a stinging aftermath leaving you to ponder on your supposed lies. “I could never—I could never do that! —I love—”

But your words weren’t ones he could consider truthful anymore, not when he’d seen the evidence with his own two eyes:

The infuriating image of you gleefully laughing alongside his brother, the most insufferable of all, Naoaki, when he’s told you countless times to keep the fuck away from him.

Sure, he could admit knowing you were only being amicable for his sake, upkeeping your reputation as respectable lady of the house and honoring all that Naoya has worked for—but it still angered him, in such way many wouldn’t be able to comprehend, not even in the slightest, because just as he knew you, he also knew his brothers.

Saw right through their envious intentions, their jealous, lustful motivations.

Which only fueled him to let everyone know you were his.

That he’s the one you married, the one he’s claiming every single night, filling with his seed, chanting his name like it was some kind of prayer, and soon—carrying his child.

Seems a reminder is long overdue. And what better way to do so than continuously putting you through a state his foolish brothers could only dream of achieving…

But to Naoya, all he had to do was ask.

“I love you” you whimper when he pulls out the vibrator from your cunt, swiftly and without warning, leaving you empty, yet eager, for you wholeheartedly expected this agonizing void to be replaced by his intoxicating warmth…

You’d get it, of course, but not the way you anticipated, nor wanted—for Naoya would tell you that in order to obtain what you desired, you’d have to convince him you’re worthy of his cock, the pleasure you’ve been agonizingly longing for, even when overstimulated—

And like the ever-dutiful wife, you’d oblige, taking his member into your mouth and eagerly bobbing your head up and down his shaft, doing your best to show just how much you loved the entirety of him—from the tip of his head, to the prominent vein on the underside… there’s nothing more blissful than to be filled to the brim with his hardness and seed.

When feeling him close to his release, through the familiar sound of his shaky voice, tightly shut eyes as his head is thrown to the back, while heavily grunting just how good you’re making him feel, you tried to pull away from him, make him reconsider finishing inside your cunt instead.

But once more, you weren’t to receive such blessings—not when you had yet to comply with the cruel requirements of said punishment—so instead, Naoya simply pulls you back to his cock, nose against his pelvis as he does one, two, three more thrusts before emptying his seed into your mouth.

You moan at the warm strings flooding your throat, hands tightly clenching at his legs as you do your best to fight against the choking sensation his intruding member forced onto you—but as difficult this task was, your mind could only focus on the fire underneath, and the desolation you were dying to ease—

“N—No, Naoya…!” you’d cry when realizing that the only time he’d touch your cunt was to fill you with his seed but void of the pleasure he’d always given you when doing so. Instead, relegated solely to preserve his future heirs, safely guarded deep into tight walls and sealed with the same vibrator as before, to ensure nothing goes to waste. “It’s not—It’s not fair!”

A cry that makes him smirk, before his face turns sour at seeing your hands reach for your bud, undoubtedly seeking release through your own merits, him quickly peeling it away.

“If you touch yourself one more time—I’ll have you walk naked around the estate!”

There’s sincerity behind his tone, all the intentions of keeping his words if you fail once more, clear in his eyes.

And thus, without putting up a fight, you sorrowfully accept his condition, tears in your eyes as you’re bound to face another hour yet again without coming undone through the care and warmth of your husband.

Though Naoya would remind you that his actions aren’t of a cruel man, but rather, of fair one, by pressing a kiss on your cheeks, lips wiping away your tears as he sweetly reassures you…

“Just don’t do it next time, ok?” Naoya coos as he places a soft peck onto your lips, you continue quietly sobbing. “You know how I feel when you talk to my brothers… do you really want it to be like this, always?”

You shake your head.

No, of course not. You’d rather die than make your husband upset.

“Then be a good girl and do as I say.” Naoya carefully grabs your face, making you turn to him—watery eyes looking up to his surprisingly soft, promising ones. “Can you do that? Can the future mother of my children obey me?”

At the promise of becoming the mother to his heirs, your heart flutters, a soft smile appearing on your lips before eagerly revealing your response.

“Yes.”

A guarantee that would briefly provide a glimpse of your undying loyalty towards him, willing to do not only that, but more—from keeping your hands away from your burning cunt, eyes stray of all men but him, to eagerly taking his seed and only his seed, preparing for the day you’d announce you were with child…

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for Naoya. Happy to accept your punishments for actions you weren’t even aware of…

As long as you had his love.

I was actually upset that I didn't write y/n wearing a vibrator/plug on this oneshot over here, like, commit to it, you know?! That would've sent Naoya over the edge waaay earlier.

Also, thank you so much for your lovely words!! I'm so glad you're liking my fic so far :') It's always such an honor... and I've long promised myself that even if it took me a while, I will finish it!! I have to... I owe it to myself and y'all....

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! :> I hope it was worth the wait! I got to write something I wanted to try out... hehe. Totally worth it.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon ❤️

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #ask

87 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 1 year

Note

If you're able to do a story based on Katy Perry's The One That Got Away where the reader is immortal or a vampire and they were connected with Goody Addams (basically had a relationship or smthng with her idk her age) but moments before she was burned to death they had a "In another life I'll look for you" type of moment and R cant do anything because they were tied and held back forcing to watch Goody die the way she did. Then to the present, R finds Wednesday amidst the crowd and they just push through the crow to get to Wednesday hugged her while Wednesday has a vision of the R and Goody's past and they have this "I found you" , "You found me" moment. THANK YOU

I am OBSESSED with this premise, you're a GENIUS

i found you

“Goody, no!”

Your eyes flew open as the dark room enveloped you. The air was cold and the sound of the fan mixed with the rain outside to form the perfect sleeping conditions. It truly was a shame you had been awakened by yet another nightmare.

No, not another one. The same one.

Slowly, you sat up and rubbed the remaining sleep from your eyes. It seemed it was going to be another early day, just like yesterday. And the day before, and the day before that. Gods, you just couldn’t manage to get Goody’s burning face out of your mind. Hundreds of years had passed and you still couldn’t force yourself to forget.

A familiar burning sensation seared down your throat once your body had finally woken up enough to comprehend it’s needs. With a sigh, your feet hit the cold ground and you dug your toes into the rug before standing up. The fridge was only a few feet away in your tiny studio apartment, but still too far when it was this early.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you slammed your fridge door closed. Seemed you had run out of blood faster than anticipated. Well, it was a rainy day; you could pick someone out pretty easily and no one would be the wiser.

You sat down on your couch and turned to the first senseless show you could find at such an early hour. Something about restaurants, you didn’t really care to pay attention. Its only purpose was to kill time until you could reasonably walk around outside without drawing too much attention.

But the wait was torture. As the show droned on in the background, your mind drifted back to that day. To that day all those years ago where you were forced to watch the most painful thing you had ever witnessed, worse even than your own turning. The memories felt like a vice grip around your unbeating heart, squeezing what little life was left out of the cold muscle.

You wiped the tears away once the clock struck seven. No more use in sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, it was time to hunt. There was no need to try and protect yourself from the rain; you simply grabbed your coat so you could blend in with the rest of the morning crowd.

The smell of rain calmed the nerves that never seemed to truly disappear. It didn’t matter how many times you had actually hunted, a small part of you remained nervous with every outing. Maybe it was the fact that you were taking a part of someone’s life, you weren’t entirely sure. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t going to stop you. If Crackstone could be celebrated for his bigotry, you could live with taking just a bit of life force from a normie.

Call it reparations.

The streets were far more crowded than you had anticipated; a bigger selection, but far riskier. Good, it always added a sense of adventure. You found a nice stoop to hang out in as you watched the crowd walk by, your eyes searching each and every face that passed in an attempt to find your target.

Until your eyes froze on a familiar face, familiar hair, familiar eyes. A face that you would have recognised even in the darkest of nights. One that you hadn’t seen outside of your nightmares in over 200 years. And there she was, walking amongst the common folk as if she had not a care in the world.

You had to get back to her.

Wednesday loved the rain; the sound it made when falling against the umbrella, the smell of it on the concrete, everything about it. So she could be forgiven for deciding to walk that morning instead of having Lurch take her to her final destination. Her umbrella kept her dry and everyone gave her a wide berth.

Even with the space everyone was giving her, Wednesday could still see that someone was parting the crowd like the red sea. There was no chance she was going to move, not for some entitled asshole that was coming directly at her and-

-she felt arms envelope her in a hug so tight she almost couldn’t breathe.

The crowd around her vanished and was replaced by a different crowd, one full of pilgrims. The moon shone down on the screaming and cheering crowd and Wednesday pushed her way through to the center. There Crackstone stood next to a wooden pyre, and someone who looked just like her was tied up; Goody Addams, her mind told her.

Across the clearing was another pyre, one with someone else tied to it. You. You were struggling against the ropes, but the pilgrims around you kept you contained. One of the pilgrims carried a torch over to Goody, prepared to drop it at the bottom of the pyre.

“Look for me,” Goody said, her eyes staring at you and you only. There was an acceptance in her eyes, though it didn’t erase the fear.

“Goody, no!” You screamed once the pilgrim dropped the torch, and the roar of the fire echoed in Wednesday’s ears as she came back to the present.

She pulled back from the arms to see you, looking down at her with tears in your eyes and a pain on your face that Wednesday had seen only once. A look so full of fear and relief and absolute desperation. Your bottom lip quivered as your eyes scoured every inch of her face, her skin, her.

“I found you,” you mumbled, your words barely audible over the sound of the rain and Wednesday’s own heart.

“You found me,” she answered just as quietly, pulling you back into a hug and hearing a heartbeat that sounded familiar.

Sounded like home.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #requests

618 notes · View notes

4dtk · 2 years

Text

ೃ⁀➷ sk8er boi!

a/n: skater geto teaching u how to skate! 🫶🏼 i wanna make this a series so bad, how they met, y/n meeting geto’s friends, maybe even smut… at the skate park… ehe. mainly it was this on twt who made me wanna write this!!!

word count: 1.4k

“lookie there,” you feel a nudge from your side from your friend before looking up at the group of skaters that walk past. and amongst them, you can pick out their oversized t-shirts and baggy pants that never seem to show their actual physique, along with their skateboards tucked snugly under their arms.

“you got over your crush yet?” another friend cuts in, eyeing them with a scowl on her face as they walk past and you resist the urge to say that you’re dating one of them. as far as you know, their reputation precedes them and they’ve been nothing but “trouble” — but you’ll believe it when you see it.

“shut up,” you laugh, nudging her back before geto catches your eye. he tries not to give you a little wave, the ones he gives you when you’re safely home from across the road and the ones when he’s chucking rocks at your window. “and they’re not all bad, you know.”

“just because you had a term with geto suguru to work on a project doesn’t change my mind.”

and you don’t blame her, either, especially with how shitty last year’s seniors were. naoya, mahito, jogo — they were pieces of shit that thought messing up the school, disrupting class and moaning at the back of the assembly hall was fun, and thank god they were gone. stigma does tend to remain, though.

walking felt like ages — out of campus, into the courtyard — something that you were wishing didn’t take up so much time, “well, this is where we part. see you guys tomorrow!” hugging your friends, you eye geto and his friends try to look uninterested, obviously waiting for your friends to leave for good. gojo trips over something and you giggle, almost caught red-handed when your friend pulls away from the embrace.

“what are you giggling at?”

you swallow, struggling to hold eye contact, “nothing! just thought of something funny, haha, s’all.”

“okay…” inwardly sighing, you see that she doesn’t suspect a thing, while your other friend didn’t exactly care about your little slip-up. “is dinner still on tomorrow?”

you can faintly see suguru groaning and complaining and this time you bite your lip to suppress another laugh, nodding furiously to the question before they walk in the opposite direction. you’re thankful they live in the same area. finally, they’re gone for good, but you wait for them to be out of sight for a minute before you’re waving your boyfriend and his friends over.

“(y/n), when are you gonna tell your friends? you know that i can’t keep my mouth shut for long—” gojo gets a smack on his back by choso, the three share laughter, and it usually goes like this (even with gojo trying his best to keep your secret under wraps), but the thing that always manages to surprise you is how geto greets you. sometimes, he brings flowers. other times, he twirls you around if he’s excited, and maybe if he’s feeling tame, he settles for a peck on the cheek or temple or lips. safe to say, geto suguru is obsessed with you.

“hey,” geto grins, smoothly bringing you in with an arm while the other carries his skateboard, “ready to go?” you’re about to answer him when his friends cut in noisily (how your friends don’t hear him is beyond you) and you think they’re going to shout something insulting like the boys you see in movies — even when they’ve shown how much they love you as geto’s girlfriend.

“make sure geto doesn’t fall off his skateboard!” choso bursts into laughter at gojo’s statement, “have fun, you lovebirds.”

suguru gives them the finger and tells them to piss off, but you just giggle at their quips as they head off to a fast-food restaurant. your boyfriend only adores the interaction from afar; when you turn to face him again, his eyebrow is raised and a little smile forms and you have to look at his chest to avoid his piercing stare.

“you’re too cute,” he notes nonchalantly, and today, he’s quiet and silently loving, pressing a quick peck to your cheek. “how’s your friends?”

you sigh, brushing geto’s signature bangs out of his face, “not coming ‘round. they’re convinced all skater boys are devils.”

“it’s alright, i don’t blame them. our seniors were crap.” geto swiftly takes your hand in his, ignoring the tingly feeling when you interlace his fingers with yours. “ever since the incident, they’ve been kicked out and banned from the skate park, so it’s good we don’t interact with them even after they’ve graduated.”

“yeah, it’s great.”

“it is?” the smile geto gives you is teasing, “you’re great too.”

you roll your eyes, but don’t deny the heat on your cheeks. “yeah, yeah, whatever. let’s just go.”

you love geto, you do, but sometimes, you shouldn’t let him talk you into things — as excited as you were for this day, thinking of riding on a skateboard and actually being on it were two different things.

“baby, if it helps, maybe you could keep your arms out,” geto shouts from across the skate park, being extremely optimistic after seeing you balance on it. moving was another story though.

“i just— can’t, i always feel like falling!” you shout back, landing on a leg to stop the slow moving skateboard (if it was even really moving). even holding out your arms didn’t work, the familiar beat of your heart always speeding up when you feel like you’re going to fall.

“maybe i’m not ready yet.”

the other frowns, jogging over, “no, maybe we’re taking it too fast. c’mon, up you go.”

he ushers you back onto the board, clutching tightly onto your hands like a toddler on their first steps. it made you look stupid, heck, you feel stupid, but geto only offers a soft smile, placing kisses on both hands.

“maybe i should’ve guided you with my hands. or would you rather we…” he grins, moving his hands to your waist and you shriek, immediately grabbing hold of his forearms, “slow dance style.”

loud laughter escapes you, so distracted and focused on his face that you don’t even notice geto dragging you along until you’ve completed a small distance. the ride feels easy enough, and soon he takes his hands off your waist with a grin.

“that’s my darlin’!”

“huh?”

his laughter is like sunshine and rain and everything you like, his jet black hair blowing in the soft breeze.

“you’re moving, baby!”

“shit, am i?” your legs aren’t wobbling any more, nor do your feet feel heavy. you’re able to stop the skateboard and start, albeit slowly, but you’re still able to get somewhere without any help. “i am! su, look!”

“i am looking,” geto’s laughter subsides into a smile, pleasantly surprised when the board vanishes below you and you’re taken up into the air suddenly. you’re flying in his arms, face inches from his while you’re holding tightly to make sure you don’t slip. “and she is looking stunning as always.” heat creeps up your neck to your face, and you’re glad you can blame it on the sun at least.

“you’re not looking so bad yourself, skater boy,” even on the skateboard, it’s difficult to reach his height, but you love it anyway: dangly arms around his frame, body weight supported effortlessly by the skater.

“i’ll teach you how to do an ollie next,” geto knows it’s far from your intended to-do list today, so he kisses you, geto suguru kisses you to (partially) distract you, swallowing your surprise, but he also kisses you because he likes (loves) it. he has you wrapped up in his arms, sweating to the bone from the scorching rays and the rush of adrenaline through his veins, and you unknowingly untangle his hair from those chains of his.

“i’m going to die attempting an ollie,” you giggle, breath mixing with his after the heated kiss.

“or we could just kiss, instead, princess.”

one day. one day you’ll tell your friends and you’ll receive the brunt of their disapproval, but here in this old skate park, you’re willing to miss a few hours of studying to be with your skater, lover boy.

sigh. when will a broody skater boy who acts all tough and bad but is actually all soft for his girl gonna come along

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #geto suguru imagines #geto x reader #geto imagines #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #geto drabbles #jjk #getou x you

1K notes · View notes