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magpiepills · 1 day

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Butterfly

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Neighbor Joel and his yoga girl neighbor have a little chat.

Warnings: SMUT! f masturbation, PIV, use of sex toys, reader can do yoga, blackmail? infidelity? Perv neighbor? Probably more. Unedited, unbeta’d, unproof-read. I type like that Kermit gif then post it.

A word from the author: idk friends. Here’s a bit more of what’s going on with pervert Joel and his yoga girl neighbor. I’m so grateful and happy that yall are enjoying this. There will be one more part!

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

The house had been quiet, with your husband picking up extra shifts and out of the house more, you found ways to occupy yourself. On a nice day, you decided a little yoga in the sun rather than your stuffy bedroom would be just what you needed.

You roll out your mat, open your app to follow along with a vinyasa flow, and close your eyes. You breathe deep, grounding breaths, melting into your stretches.

It felt good, made you feel relaxed and grounded and more in your body than in your head. It made you feel sexy to move your body, the ways you stretched. You promised yourself that this would be your new routine.

On the second day you felt a bit self conscious. You saw the shadowed silhouette in the upstairs window, your neighbor, a single man living alone, and apparently a fan of yoga.

You didn’t look at his window again. If it was a coincidence that he was looking out his window while you stretched and bent you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. If he was watching you, you didn’t want to know that either. It made you feel nervous and giddy that your hot neighbor might be watching you bending over, spreading your legs, twisting yourself into suggestive poses. It didn’t stop you, though.

So what if he looked, right? You weren’t doing anything wrong, just exercising in your back yard. Nothing untoward or scandalous about that and Joel has never been anything but friendly and polite. If you got a small thrill along with your workout, all the better for everyone.

By the third day you were certain he was watching. He must have thought he was out of sight, down in the bottom corner of the window, but you spotted him, his graying curls, his dark stare that was glued to your every move. The window was empty when you walked the dog, when you got the newspaper from the porch, and when you walked to the mailbox, but as soon as you came out for yoga, there he was, like he knew your schedule and would wait for you.

You dripped into your leggings and added ten minutes to your workout. When you finished, you went inside and showered, taking the handheld shower head and directing the stream to wash over your throbbing clit, giving yourself an orgasm while you moaned his name and imagined him there with you. Your fingers couldn’t reach deep enough, didn’t stretch you the way you were certain that Joel would.

Later that night you’d tried again, pulling up porn with men like Joel; older, sturdy, deep voiced, confident. You edged yourself, pressing your vibrator against your clit, pushing just the tip into your clenching entrance the way you imagined him teasing you until you begged, then pulling away before you could reach your climax. You did it again and again, thinking of his chest and arms and the sweat that darkened his shirt when you’d see him mowing his lawn, and then crying his name into your pillow when you finally let yourself come.

It still wasn’t enough. There was no beard scratching your chest, your neck, your thighs. No hands on your hips, no lips on yours. Instead of satisfying you, it just made you needier, and that need led you to bolder and bolder deeds.

It was the dirtiest secret. Every afternoon you pretended not to see him while you positioned yourself for maximum exposure. Your ass toward his window, back arched, wiggling just so. You pushed your chest forward, nipples hard against the tight Lycra of your thin top.

You carried on, abandoning the illusion of good form to try to tease your voyeur, then went inside and imagined what he’d say when you rode him, or wondered what his shirt smelled like while you clenched around your own inadequate fingers. You considered standing outside and turning on the garden hose, putting on a little wet tshirt contest with you as the sole participant and Joel the lone audience member and judge under the very innocent and reasonable explanation that it was summer in Texas and you needed to cool off.

By day five you were masturbating before and after yoga. You were so amped up every time you spied him

In his spot you thought you might be able to come from just thinking about him. You fucked your husband before he left with your eyes shut tight so you could pretend he was your neighbor.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked, beaming at you as he lay on the bed, having just been used as an unwitting prop in your sick fantasy. Maybe you’d feel guilty later. For now, you’d just feel cum leaking out of you while you held your knees wide open on your yoga mat and imagined it was Joel’s and that he was watching it trickle from your pussy before scooping it up with two big fingers and pushing it back inside.

If you’ve gone off the deep end you don’t care. Inside of a week you’d turned from friendly neighbor with a harmless crush to shameless trollop whose only thoughts came directly from her pussy. You'd figure out the implications and consequences later.

On day six you pulled out all the stops. You moved slowly and deliberately, making up your own routine of the most suggestive poses you knew. As you modified a butterfly stretch to lift your tits, you found Joel through your eyelashes and you would swear he had licked his lips. It broke something in you.

You feigned the heat was worse than it was, made a show of modesty, checking that you were otherwise alone, and stripped down.

The sunshine and the light breeze felt so good against your bare skin. You explored your body, running your hands over your hips and thighs and belly. You were sticky with sweat, and you felt prickly with all your pent up longing.

You skated your fingertips over your stiff nipples and down to your pulsing, needy cunt. If he was going to watch, you might as well give him something to remember. Maybe he would feel even a fraction of the fiery, desperate frustration you had felt.

You didn’t have a plan. None of this was planned. You slid your middle finger over your folds and spread your wetness over your clit and around your lips, feeling it cool slightly on your skin. You were just playing there, teasing yourself without serious intention, you decided you’d just do what felt good for a while, let Joel have a good long look, then go back in.

You knew he was there. You saw his shadowed silhouette. You hoped he liked what he saw, hoped he was touching himself, hoped he was imagining you on your knees for him. You edged yourself twice, careful not to make a sound above a heavy breath. You stroked your wet pussy, blinked your eyes as you breathed deeply, staving off your release, and let your eyes find his window, empty.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you’d let your pathetic, horny housewife delusions get the better of you and maybe you’ve just humiliated yourself.

Immediately you thought of your husband, your other neighbors, your friends, the rumors that would surely spread about the whore of Rancher Street. Panic and regret gripped you so hard you could scarcely breathe.

And then you heard it.

A groan, deep and stifled from the other side of the fence.

Play it cool, you tell yourself. You wrap a handy beach towel around yourself and put on a mask of curiosity and concern when you peek over the fence and find Joel slumped in the dirt. His cheeks are flushed, his cock is out, and he looks exactly like you’ve been feeling.

“Joel, what’s going on? What happened?” You ask, wide-eyed.

He stammers and hurries to cover his body, trying to minimize his embarrassment and the evidence of what he had just done.

“It’s not- it’s not what it looks like,” he says, “I’m just, uh, I’m sorry I just…”

“Just what?” you coo and drop to your knees to peek at him through the fence, “were you watching me, Joel?” You tsk, but flutter your eyelashes, watching with bubbling delight as he flounders, shaking his head, unable to come up with an explanation for why he’s on the ground next to a wide gap in the fence slats with cum on his jeans.

“I didn’t know you were a peeping Tom, Joel.”

It angers him, you calling him a peeping Tom. He stands quickly, then, turning to hastily zip back into his jeans, before stepping close to the fence and peering down at you.

“And I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist who was going to strip naked and touch herself right out in the open where anyone could see!” His voice is deep and hushed, but with a heat that excites you.

“You’re out here every day as soon as your husband leaves just begging for attention. Don’t act innocent now that you got it.”

“Only one watching was you, Joel. You had a front row seat, didn’t you?” you look up at him sweetly, putting both palms against the fence right about where his hips are on the other side.

Joel makes a low, rumbling sound and looks down, gripping the fence tightly. If he were a younger man he’d be hard again at the sight of you on your knees in front of him, fence or not.

“What about your husband? Does Marcus know you’re out here puttin’ on shows?”

You stand slowly and lift up onto your tiptoes, holding onto the fence between Joel’s wide, rough hands, leaving just inches between your faces.

“All he knows is how much hornier I’ve been this week. I had to ride him twice this morning,” you confess, looking right into your neighbor’s dark, searching eyes.

Joel nods softly, “But ya still had to come out here and act up, huh? Ain’t gettin enough?”

You hum in agreement, “you liked watching. Saw you every day.”

Joel hums back, eyes heavy lidded and dark.

“Well, what are we going to do about this?” he asks, and you take a step away from the fence, adjusting your towel.

“I don’t know, Joel. I think we have a problem. Marcus won’t be too happy if he finds out you’ve been prowling around. All I wanted to do was a little yoga in my yard. Maybe you’d better come over and figure out how to explain this.”

You don’t wait for Joel to agree or argue before turning to go back inside, dropping the towel that covered you and folding it over your arm, hips swaying tantalizing as Joel watches you disappear in your house.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #smut #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x neighbor #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller hole filler

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chaosandmarigolds · 2 days

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Dreamscape

(canon? whats that? we go with vibes in this house. Fem!reader, based off an amazing!! ask....um this is just sadness, I'm sorry.....if you want to add more sadness listen to Chasing Cars (yeah I cry to that song 99% of the time sorry))

One day..

With a grumble, he adjusted to the sudden shift of your body weight, to where you were essentially laying over him, and out of pure habit he wrapped his arm over the small of your back- only for you to whisper a soft ‘sorry’ before standing up all the way. Which caused him to think, it was a Saturday and there weren’t any Ops he had been assigned, so there was no purpose in waking up before the sun. So with a tilt of the head, he moves to sit up, watching as you tug out the duffle bag from the couch.

Maybe when the war is over…

“Love?”

You almost jump as your fiance calls the nickname and you turn around, giving him a little smile, “Good morning.”

Simon gives you a look as he turns on the lamp and watches your mannerisms, the timidness behind every movement, “Wha’s goin on?” A valid question, what had happened was that you and Johnny were assigned to what Price lightly put as a ‘suicide mission,’ and what you didn’t want to happen was for Simon to force then add himself to it- as it would then decrease your chances of survival by that much. So you falter for a moment, trying to avert your gaze. With a panicked breath you motion to the kitchenette, “I’ll make tea! Oh! And let’s use the special type, the one we got from Inida? Yeah! Yeah-”

Of course, the echoed whisper of your name made you stop your walk and you slowly turned to face him, your face downturned, you were an awful lair, you were never sent to integrations because you hated to see people hurt. And it killed you to see him searching for an answer, to see him scared for your sake- and for the great and terrifying Simon Riley…that was saying something.

Once the smoke settles…

“You’re not going.”

“It doesn’t-” You groan and throw your head into your hands, “It doesn’t work like that, you know that.”

“No, you’re not going, ‘ll take the spot,” He was grasping at broken shards of sense because he knew the choice was set in stone that not even a sword made of the purest of intentions couldn’t crack it. “Let me talk to-”

“SIMON.”

You take a sharp breath and look at him from across the room, by that time you were fully dressed, hair tied back, boots laced up. Engangment ring which was supposed to be switched out in less than a week hanging onto your dog tags. It took a moment to find the words but they were able to come after a moment, “There is no talking to Laswell or the Captain, there is no loophole, there is no replacing, there is nothing you can do. I have it covered. I do not need you to come and save me when I can save myself.”

Maybe once we got ourselves picked up…

The silence was stiff, and he then finally relented, slowly walking over to you, tucking the tags into your shirt, voice hushed, “Johnny ‘ll take care of ya.”

“I did…I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He pressed his lip to the crown of your head, “Jus lemme think I can save you from everythin.”

You stay silent, then with a short step you move to allow him to hold you, “You can.”

We can move somewhere far away, within the groves of tranquility …

You give Johnny a dull laugh as you walk down the rusted corridor, his laugh echoing through your earpiece. It was nice, laughing for what felt like the first time in forty or so hours, the mission was not even close to being finished and you were already running on steam. So obviously it was time for some lame jokes, “As much as fireworks sound fun, I don’t think I want that in my wedding.”

“Gah,” He chuckled from his spot, waiting for you to clear the hallway so he could follow, “Ghosty woulda lemme.”

“Oh yeah, Ghost would have loved it,” You return with a bitten-back laugh, and then turn the corner, leading with your gun, eyes looking over the blood splatters on the ground and you then whisper, “Clear.”

Before you could even blink the hiss of a gunshot hissed into your earpiece burning with such a pain you had to rip it out, hand going to your ear.

With a staggering step to catch your balance and blink the tears out of your eyes you were then met with a gun being shoved to the back of your head.

You never thought blinding light could hold such peace.

I would prefer our home to not be the shadows cast by the towering and rickety oaks, rather it be in the sun, lightened by new lives we could live

The carrier came back with supplies, no saved hostage, just two bodies left mangled by the enemy no captain even- the craft had been on autopilot.

A message, a warning left within that metal body.

The silence as the door swung itself open. They had all seen death, they had seen things no human should have seen.

There was something about the sight of their teammates laying tossed on the floor of an aircraft that made Kyle turn away

That made Price need a day before he filed the paperwork.

Something about it ruined Simon.

A large house ideally, so that way we can have as many kids and dogs as we want, something to usher in a new meaning behind our names

Silence is what he use to hold peace in, yet all he could hear when there was silence was the what-ifs, did you scream? Was it quick? Did it hurt? Why didn’t he go? Why did he let it happen?

That day he lost the only people he had loved and it was cursing him, bottles couldn’t cure it, opioids didn’t numb more than he had already been, nothing was saving him. He summed that up by saying maybe he didn’t deserve saving.

A garden, lively with bees and colorful with every flower I can manage to grow,

He couldn’t bring himself to go through your things, he was the next of kin, as for Johnny- all of his things had been shipped back to his family, yours? They sat where you had left them that morning you left, your notebook collecting desk on the coffee table, mug still half-filled with water. Lipstick stain still on his balaclava from the last time he took you out on a proper date.

In a drunken stupor, he grabbed the notebook, for the intention of tossing it away, forcing himself to forget every tiny detail of what was. But something told him to open up the pages, so for a millionth of a second he did, yet the sight of your handwriting which you would jokingly name ‘chicken scratch’ forever ingrained on the pages caused something in him to break all over again.

A porch where we can dance in the moonlight

“Riley.” John seemed shocked by the sight of the former lieutenant on his doorstep, sure he had offered ‘anything’ after the deaths, yet he never expected for Simon to take him up on it. For the first time in two years, for the first time since he had to discharge him, he saw what he thought was a completely sober man before him.

It was taking every ounce of Simon to not just turn away, to say it was a bad idea and run, run away from the emotions, but he was going to this…he had to. “You wanna build a house?”

A library so I can put all of those books you bought me, somewhere we can escape the haunting reality of the past

A year, he and John spent a year of work on the house once Simon found the perfect lot of land not too far out of London. Weekends spent from morning to dusk, John’s kids helping when they were in town and Eliza, John’s wife, coming by with food and to do the painting. The foundation has your name forever printed within it.

All of it sounds so poetic when I scribble them down, but the reality is as long as I have your love I am home

A garden he tended every morning and dusk to make sure they were perfectly planted, large enough to where the neighbors would come by to pick bouquets. He would watch the child run through the stone pathways, wondering what could have been.

The library was filled with novels he swore to collect, writing your name as the owner as he placed them in the rows of the shelving he took careful time carving.

I will love you forever and always, Ghost-boy

“You built a good home,” Kyle had told him, close to ten years after all of it had happened, sitting beside him on the porch. He knew it was probably the only thing that kept him alive this long, so he was thankful for it.

Simon nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

(annnyway, that’s all! Any and all comments, feedback and all that mean so much! Thanks for the ask!! <3)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod fluff #simon ghost x reader #cod x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley angst #angst

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webslingingslasher · 2 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/721605644038389760/pregnancy-scare-with-fratpeter-what-would-he-do?source=share

Is there ever a pregnancy scare after they're in the girlfriend phase?

*cleaning out my drafts. mentions of pregnancy and a slight suggestion of abortion.*

you groan at the gentle shake you're receiving and you shrug it off while half awake. you're unbelievably tired and the small window of rest you got wasn't enough.

'trouble? c'mon, get up.' peter's hand comes down rough on your backside, you whine and roll over. 'but i'm sleepy-eepy.' the warmth of peter's bed is ripped away from you, he's holding the blanket in his hands.

'now i'm cold.' and while it's not peter's fault and he's only doing what you asked, you feel a little frustrated at the knowledge of not being able to go back to sleep.

'if you get up now, i'll shower with you. ten, nine, eight, seven... that's my girl, super proud of you.'

you might've woken up grouchy, but peter set your mood right in the shower and now you keep giving his arm little kisses. 'my handsome man.' peter speaks into your hairline, 'it's just a white shirt, you heathen.'

you softly dig your teeth into the thick of his bicep while his aunt has her back turned mixing up a side salad. you pull back without a trace and talk into his skin. 'and my man looks so yummy in it.'

'see? that nap energized you more than you thought.'

'that or your precious mouth and nice way you use it on me.' peter gives you a charming smile. 'you're on a roll tonight, trouble.' you wrap your arms around his and give a final mark, it's time to be a smidge respectful in his childhood home.

peter breaks away to refill your wine glass and top may's off. you thank him with a small kiss, may thanks him by asking him to grab rolls from the oven.

---

there's a positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands. each time you blink it becomes more and more clear, you clutch your stomach as if you already had a month nine belly.

'fuck.'

what are you supposed to do?

tears fall fast, they hit your palms and positive test before you look around the bathroom. why are you alone? where's peter? you think of your boyfriend, you think of how royally fucked this makes things.

call it selfish but you wanted peter all to yourself for a few years and now you're jumping forward a hundred steps. 'fuck.' this isn't fair to either of you, you don't have it figured out yet.

you stare at the test one more time, you need to be sure. you close your eyes and count to ten, no matter how many times you try, the answer doesn't change.

'holy fucking shit, i'm-'

about to piss your pants. you fly up from the bed lightning fast, hightailing it to peter's bathroom before holding your head in your hands. you're drowsy and reminding yourself it was just a dream, but it felt so real.

but, no, just a dream. it's a dream because you're not pregnant. you just had your period... you just had it... it's only been... your stomach drops, why can't you remember? in four seconds you are wide, wide awake and you're going for your phone on peter's nightstand.

it's three in the morning and you haven't had a period in at least five weeks.

'peter, get up.' you're not soft spoken or gentle, you're full of terror and he's about to be too. you push at his arm roughly, it stirs him just enough you could break through the sleep.

'peter, get up right now.' a slow whine, you're not playing and his stubbornness is about to have you wake up the entire apartment complex. 'get the fuck up, peter.'

you're mean but it's the only thing stopping you from going full blown psycho and curling into a screaming, crying ball on his floor.

'peter,' you rush out his name one more time, this time he responds.

'what’s go-‘

'i think i'm pregnant and i'm about to freak the fuck out and i really, really need you to keep me from doing that right now.' it hits all at once, you try to breathe but you can't. it's peter's turn to fly up from the bed, he only goes as far as he needs to wrap you in a tight hug.

'trouble,' the name makes you sob, you really are trouble. 'shh, you're okay, we're okay.' it's not fair of peter to hold you calmly as if he's not scared shitless himself. 'we're so fucked, peter. i ruined everything.'

your mind is spinning and your boyfriend is keeping you grounded. 'nothing is ruined, nothing is fucked. we're okay, i promise we're okay.' no, peter's not thinking how you are. he doesn't understand what you just did to you both.

'i did, i really, really did. we just graduated, we don't live together, you're still waiting for that research position to open and my boyfriend slash baby daddy is going to die because he's also spider-man.'

it's all ruined. you don't even know what you ruined and that's the worse part, you ended it before it started.

'hey, trouble. one thing at a time, okay? we have time to figure it out if we need to. do we need to go get a test?' you nod, the idea of your dream turning into reality makes you want to sob.

'speaking of dying, i killed the last three plants ethan gave me. so, how nice is that? a dead dad and a mom who kills.' peter hugs you tighter, he wants to push all your suffering into him right now. you go one further, this is the final nail in the coffin.

'what if i'm not ready to be a mom?'

'we have time to figure-' he doesn't understand. 'no, what if i'm not ready to be a mom?' a soft kiss on your forehead tells you he read between the lines, it also tells you he doesn't resent you for the idea.

'i'm here for you, okay? i'm here for whatever decision you make and we'll figure it out together. we're a team. and i promise you, trouble, i'm not dying. kid or no kid, i won't let spider-man be the thing that does me in.'

you want this with peter, you really do. just... not now. a baby this young was never in the cards, you feel like you shouldn't be in this position but you played stupid games and won an unexpected prize.

'fuck. peter, i really think i might be pregnant.'

peter's being a strong front because you need it but he's just as unprepared as you are. 'have you been feeling sick?' you shake your head, you've felt normal until this very moment.

'i had i dream i was staring at a positive test and it felt so real that it woke me up and then i couldn't remember the last time i had my period so i looked at my phone and we're charting into week five.'

peter almost lets a curse slip, he contains it for you. 'okay, we're okay. i promise we're okay, we just need to make sure if you're pregnant or not. can you wait until morning or do we need to go now?'

peter using 'you' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence makes you want to throw up and you can't blame it on potential morning sickness. you're disgusted in yourself. this wasn't the timeline.

you couldn't last another few hours in this state, you'd go mad in record timing. 'now. right now.' in under a minute peter is stuffing a hoodie over your head and a shirt over his. you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown but peter's outstretched hand tells you he's here for it.

---

'what if you resent me in like...' peter's already shaking his head, you can't put a date on it, what if it's now? 'wait, is it already happening? do you hate me?'

peter stops with you outside of the bodega right up the road from his apartment, he had been listening to your spiral the entire time with a calm demeanor.

'stop. i know this wasn't the plan and i know this isn't what we wanted right now but i don't want you thinking i could ever hate you or blame you for this. i wish i could make you feel better about this, trouble. i love you, i love you more than i have ever loved anything. i love you more than i thought was possible. i love you more than any song or book or movie could ever describe. and guess what? i'd love our kid just the same. shit, maybe even more cause you gave me one.'

is it hormones or is it because that's the best thing he could've ever told you at this moment? you crush him in a hug, he's a little surprised but holds you just the same. 'thank you.' for the first time since you woke up, you're able to breathe.

peter doesn't say you're welcome because you don't have anything to thank him for. he's doing what he'd do if this was however many years in the future and when it was a bit more planned. 'i didn't bring my wallet.'

peter scoffs, 'you think i'd make you pay for this?'

'i already feel like a burden.'

'trouble.' you bite your tongue, if peter can be nice enough to hold a poker face, you can stop telling yourself he secretly hates you. you need an answer and it lies inside the shop in a little box.

peter's holding the test, you couldn't bring yourself to touch it. you're standing in front of the refrigerator section staring at the drink selection, more than half focused on your reflection instead. peter catches on and taps your hand, you blink awake and look at three different cans before your brain hurts.

'what should i get?'

'whatever you want, trouble.'

'i can't think.' you can't. it's either total silence and dissociation or racing thoughts, you don't know peace anymore. if you're carrying his child, peter can pick a drink for you.

'hm. are you in the mood for something flavored?'

sweet. sugary. something to coat your mouth with a lasting aftertaste even if the news you were about to receive was on the bitter side.

'yeah.' peter nixes the three shelfs of water. 'carbonated or not?' too much of a choice, you shrug half-heartedly. 'i don't know.' peter looks behind him, a different choice entirely.

when's the last time you had an icee?

you don't notice peter walk off, you slipped back into staring at yourself in a baggy hoodie. if you jumped forward six months, how tight would it be?

peter grabs a small cup, looks at the clear-blue box in his hand and grabs a large one instead. a mixture of cherry and coke, it's nearly freezing his hand. it's going to be enough to keep your mind in the land of the living.

you find peter, lean against his back and close your eyes, he makes small movements and allows you to rest your weight on him. you're tired. mentally and emotionally. 'trouble?' you perk up again, peter halfway turns to hand over a frozen drink big enough for four.

'a slushie?' you give it a taste, you sip it down until your throat burns. 'heck yeah. and look at that, you love it.' he's not wrong. you can't remember the last time you had one and this somehow just made things a little better.

'it's making me feel better.'

'see? everyone needs some sugar now and then.'

---

for someone who made peter get out of bed at three in the morning and force him down to the corner store for a pregnancy test, you sure can't stomach the idea of taking it.

if it's a no, it'll be the biggest breath of fresh air you've ever had. if it's a yes, you and peter's life is about to forever change and you don't think you're ready for that yet.

you might not get peter to yourself for a few years, but you have him tonight and that's comfort enough. 'ready?' you intertwine your fingers with peter as he asks and pulls you out the front door. it's a quiet walk back sharing your cup of sugar before you silently creep back inside his aunt's apartment.

'ready to pee?'

you shake your head, peter offers his laptop up. ten minutes into a show, you have to go. fifteen minutes, it's pressing. twenty and you're about to burst.

you're not ready for the answer.

you'd be a bad mom.

'i drank wine tonight, peter. that's so bad, i'm such a bad person.'

'you're not a bad person, trouble. guess what? no one knows they're pregnant until they know. it's not your fault you kept living life how you normally do.'

you might've fucked things up but you chose the best person to do it with.

'i have to pee.' for just a teeny, tiny second- peter's guard faults. he's just as scared of the results, it fills you with solace. you're not the only one here who doesn't want this, even if he won't tell you so.

'want me to come with?'

you shake your head and don't even look at the box when you swipe it from his desk. your hand shakes as you tear the blue plastic, it's dawned on you that this is the first time you've ever taken one. you never thought you’d be here.

you hold your eyes closed while you do it as if the results would show immediately. you snap the cap back into place and hide it behind you. starting a five minute timer, you wait on the answer to the future.

poking your head out from his bathroom you clear your throat. 'counting down.'

'how are you feeling? still doing okay?' you nod, you're really thankful he has your back tonight. it's nice to know that when you're truly falling apart, he's your backbone.

'i love you.'

'i love you too, sweetheart.'

you've been so good and so brave this whole time, you haven't cried once. but that just broke you and you can't place why. you try to will away the sting in your eyes, it doesn't work.

a broken whimper and you can't hold it in anymore.

you fall apart and before you could collapse to the floor, peter's tucking you into his chest and kissing your head. 'shh, you're okay. i promise you're okay, you have me. you'll always have me.'

'promise?'

'i promise, trouble. don't you remember? i couldn't let you go if i tried.'

'i know you said to stop but i'm really sorry and i need you to know that.' peter feels his heart break, he must've done something wrong at some point to make you think he could ever be upset at you for this.

but peter thinks you need him to accept it. 'it's okay. i know you're sorry and it's okay.' you relax and exhale into him, you stop your tears because crying is useless and it's only making you feel worse.

'i'm being so annoying, aren't i?'

'not in the slightest, do you see how long it took you to cry?'

you sniff and wipe away any stray tears before giving peter a pathetic pucker. 'kiss, please.' you're granted the slow and soft kind, the one that is just pure care and adoration.

'will you promise to keep having sex with me if i'm pregnant?'

peter can't hold in his laugh, you hear yourself and giggle with him. 'i promise, trouble. you can get it anytime. i mean, you already do, but with my baby in you- you'll get absolutely anything you want, whenever you want.'

'even if i want cheetos at two in the morning?' peter thinks that's light work, he graces your cheek with a kiss of the same kind. 'especially then.' it's not always rainbows and butterflies. 'what about when my belly pops, my hormones hit the ceiling, my feet are swollen, i'm hot all the time, and i just constantly scream at you?'

'you wouldn't do that.' well, you're not planning on it but you have no idea what effects this will have on you. 'but if you did, i'd take it in stride. if i was carrying around twenty pounds that made me constantly want to piss my pants, i'd be grumpy too.'

'we're gonna be so tired.'

'we already are.'

you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. 'what if i get stretch marks?'

'from growing my kid? couldn't think of anything sexier, trouble.'

it's not what was planned, but if this is how it'll be, you'll be okay. peter was right, you would figure it out. together.

'you have an answer for everything.'

'that's why you love me so much. you needed to find someone who could keep up with you.'

'and oh boy can you keep up and catch me.'

you match his smile, you feel good. you feel like things aren't so ruined now. 'it's my favorite thing to do.' you scrunch your nose up at him before giving a small jump to your alarm tone.

you end the timer. 'oh god.' that.

'don't undo what we just did. no more panic, we're okay with this, right? if it's a yes, we're doing this?'

it's terrifying to think you could be a parent in under a year but something tells you that you'll be just fine with peter by your side. 'yeah, we're doing this.'

peter nods towards his bathroom door, 'ready?'

for the first time tonight, you feel confident. 'yes.' you back up for the results, wrapping your palm around the middle until you're next to peter again.

you both take a deep breath and you finally get to see the answer.

peter exhales out, 'holy shit.'

your shoulders slump when you mutter out, 'thank god.'

'holy fuck, i thought my stomach was about to come out of my ass for a second. don't get me wrong if it was-'

'i was right there with you, petey. we could've figured it out but thank god we don't have to.' you hold a hand over your heart and feel calm wash over you. 'are we bad people for being happy about this?'

peter shakes his head. 'no, not at all. we're not ready for that yet, but now we know we could be.'

you think you're speaking for the both of you and you think it needs to be said. 'to be clear, we do want kids, just later down the road. and this was just a little scare but now that we know we don't want any right now, we should be a little more careful about how we do things, right?'

'a hundred percent, trouble. you said it before i could.'

'good.' you take another peek at the test, double confirmation. 'now can you please feed me? i'm famished.'

even if you weren't pregnant, peter would do anything for you.

'anything my baby wants, she gets.'

#frat!peter blurb #life after uni

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starfxkr · 2 days

Note

tp!reader needs a long talk with john b about her relationship in his lap with his big arms wrapped around her occasionally kissing her forehead poor girl has been through it

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the ever present scent of sea salt clinging to john b was a welcome change to jj's heady, musky smell permeating the trailer.

things have somewhat soured since john b's last visit, that dizzy little bubble of love the three of you created the first time you met him had long popped, jj had gone back to being his normal, confusing self.

so much so that you had left for a month, without even packing your things or saying goodbye, you had just walked out the door and left.

you'd only been back about 2 weeks now, coincidentally it coincided with his return and you were relieved, things were always lighter with john b around. you were less lonely when jj was at work, it was nice to have someone to talk to.

even more so it was nice to have someone who listens, completely and without judgement. which is exactly what he did, as you recounted every aspect and important moment in your relationship with jj, from the first incident during the party, to the constant cheating, the petty slights and mind numbing arguments. you'd never cried so much funnily enough, despite having years of reasons to cry it never hit you as hard as it did now, in john b's lap as he stroked your flank and kissed your forehead until you fell asleep, completely and utterly exhausted.

but you felt lighter, no longer carrying the shame and hurt so tightly to your chest.

you only faintly heard the front door open, but even in your half sleep you could feel the air shift, but all that was said was jj going, "i think we should put her to bed."

john b replied, "i think that's a good idea." and carried you to the bedroom, departing with one last kiss before he shut the door.

when you woke up the next morning you were tucked into john b's chest, his body curving over yours as he spooned you, and jj lay across the bed, eyes puffy and red with his arm reaching out to you, his fingers lightly entangled with yours.

#✨.txt #jj x reader x john b prompt

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heiznx · 2 days

Text

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE

∗༝*◦✦ song and dance competition with neige leblanche.

BEFORE READING, this contains light swearing, implication of unrequited love, manipulation, slight yandere behavior, book 5 spoilers, and all that goes along with it.

|| 1 || HERE || 3 ||

“Neige broke the school rules for what?”

It was a rumor that spread around Royal Sword Academy, merely a few days before the cultural fair known as Song and Dance Competition where Neige and the seven dwarves would be participating in.

Neige, the overly kind actor, suddenly—according to the rumors—rebelled against the rules of the academy by using a broom during practice for the cultural fair to fly outside the academy to save Night Raven College’s students.

It was not unusual for him to break the school rules since there were incidents where he would help other students and unknowingly go against the rules for them; he would apologize and everything would be in the past.

“I heard they had the fight on camera,” a student whispered, referring to a floating camera paparazzis set up to capture any little information about the artist. “But it was deleted world-wide…”

“Dear merciful seven, Ortho, thank you so much!” you exclaimed as you felt your heart stop racing, your face going near the floating screen, seeing the complete progress of deletion of a certain video. “I was about to start crying.”

“Yeah, Vil drilled on us for a long time…” Deuce responded and Epel nodded beside you. “We owe you one, Ortho.”

“You did promise to help my brother grind on his account so he can focus on preparing for his presentation,” the humanoid said, pointing at you, who nodded profusely with gratitude. “Brother said he’d even hack into the gadgets of those who still have the video if you do well.”

Epel had gotten extremely upset at one point that he left the scene, while he was walking, Deuce borrowed a blastcycle from an Ignihyde student and picked up Epel to drive him somewhere, and out of concern, you tagged along.

Who was supposed to know that there would be thugs there? Your instinct was to call someone close and famous—Neige LeBlanche—but you didn’t also know that he was popular to the point of being stalked whenever he’s outside the campus’ protection.

“You got the most earful, prefect,” Deuce sighed. “Who knew he would ask you on a date after that and it was caught on camera?”

“He just wanted to have a few hours of my time after the competition, it’s not a date,” you said, acting like you did not spend the hours overthinking what he wanted from you. “Perhaps a tour at the academy.”

Epel grimaced, “He’ll only be coming over at Night Raven College once, he doesn’t need to be toured around.”

“And you didn’t really owe him anything,” Deuce said. “I think I developed my unique magic and I planned on using it, if he didn’t arrive, I would’ve knocked ‘em out so we can escape still!”

“I’m a third year and I was the most useless of all,” you muttered, groaning internally as Ortho moved to pat your back gently, but the coldness of the materials used on his palm seeped through your clothes and it made you uncomfortable. “Thanks, Ortho…”

“Still, I think Vil-san is grateful that you didn’t let us act… violent,” Epel said even though he hated the thought of not being able to do anything during that situation and let Deuce take almost everything.

“Yo! Break time’s done, Vil’s calling everyone to go back to practice.”

“Oh, thank you again, Ortho. I’ll come by your dorm after practice so I can start grinding.”

“Nice to meet you and bye, Ortho!”

“Is something wrong, Rook?”

“I wish I was you.”

“What?”

“Moi?”

On the day of the fair, you had to stop your racing heart and mind from trying to distract you from what the fair artist would want to give you, because you had to put your focus on Trey and Riddle was trying to explain to you.

Riddle had you pause for a moment since you commented that you liked the way his tie was tied, prompting him to attempt to do it on your collar and you felt a little happy—happily distracted from what Neige wanted to ask from you.

“We’ve got a lot of visitors from Royal Sword Academy this year,” Trey said and you nodded, your chin hitting Riddle’s hand, prompting him to destroy the ribbon he was making and you sent an apologetic gaze.

“I’ll try to look around too, I’ll try selling my ticket—”

“The others would be sad to know that ‘ya weren't there, ya’know?”

“I’ve been with you all for two months,” you said in your defense, but a part of you was curious about the contestants. “The campus is filled with hot headed students, had it not been for Leona, I would’ve gotten bullied for the nth time, and most students actually dislike Royal Sword—”

— W H A M !

“Hey, punk. You’ve got snot all over my uniform. You’re not even gonna apologize?”

“I said I was sorry… Achoo!”

“Ewww! He sent more snot flyin’ our way!”

“By accent, you’d know it’s a NRC student,” you mumbled as RIddle stopped trying to tie your tie since he had to check on the incident. “Oh… Is that…?”

“Snick! Here, blow your nose.”

“Dominic!” you called as Riddle released you so you can head over to the dwarves. “How are you all here—”

“[name]-san,” the short gray-haired dwarf said, looking surprised, but he had to look away to apologize to the Night Raven College students Snicked bumped into. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll pay the cleaning bill for your uniforms.”

“You bet you will,” A student said and then at you. “Would ‘ya look at here—”

“Yes?” Riddle steps in, looking a little irked at the possibility of physical altercations happening on the campus on the very first day of the fair. “The culture fair has barely opened its doors, and picking fights is not a choice here.”

“Tsk.”

“How basic…” you muttered as you watched the students walk away upon being busted by the prefect of Heartslabyul. “Your reputation really goes around, Riddle… but are you guys okay, Dominic?”

“Thanks for the help,” Dominic says as he smiles at you, Grim, and the Heartslabyul students beside you. “As you can see…”

“Yeah, whatever, I coulda taken those guys with or without your help,” a pinkish haired dwarf grumbled, looking and most likely feeling ungrateful.

“Grum! Must you do this every time?” Dominic asked, his tone a little scolding as you felt a little uncomfortable with the slight bratty attitude from Grum. “Neige won’t be happy to hear you’re talking like that to [name]-san.”

“[name]—” Grum stuttered as you blinked, confused.

“Oh…!” Snick said, his voice sounding a little muffled.

“By the way, why are you all here?” you asked as Trey watched from behind. “This is far from the purple stage… or the lockers for the people involved in the competition.”

“Oh, yes, have you seen four other dwarves?” Dominic asked and Riddle shaked his head.

“I’m afraid not, would you like me to have the broadcast club page them?”

“I can help look,” you volunteered just before you felt a presence by your head that caused shivers up your spine.

“Oh, how ameowzing, to meet the talk of Royal Sword Academy~”

Grim purred quite loudly before exclaiming, “A floating severed head!”

“Che’nya…” you muttered as a hand went up to your forehead.

“Che’nya!?” the Heartslabyul prefect and vice exclaimed.

“Heh heh heh, is he a human? Is he a cat? He’s a mysterious and magical fellow,” the half-cat creature said with a grin. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker! Thaaat’s me!”

“Artemiy, have you seen the rest of the dwarves?” you asked before you remembered his words. “What do you mean I’m the talk of your school?”

“Surely you’ve known,” Dominic says, wanting to explain, but his friends were missing. “Long story short, the video. Che’nya could explain.”

“Oh no…” you muttered, wanting to hide your face from the world and you looked down to do just that, but you noticed your disarrayed tie. “Oh, Riddle, could you…?”

Your focus flew quickly as Chenya said, “If you’re on the purrowl for your friends, I saw ‘em go that way and around the corner.”

“Thanks a bunch, if you’ll excuse us, [name] and NIght Raven College students,” Dominic said as you waved, smiling as Riddle moved to fix your tie, and Dominic’s smile fell a little, so did the other dwarves.

“Is something wrong?” you muttered.

“See ya around!” Aritemy bid the dwarves on their way. “Furtionately, the video was taken down.”

“Nice to see you, Che’nya,” Riddle says, pausing on your tie first. “I appreciate you reaching out to me, and I apologize for neglecting to get back to you.”

“About the video…?” Trey asked.

“As Aritemy said, fortunately, I had it taken down by Ortho,” you said as Riddle finished up quickly on your tie and you paused, getting a little distracted. “Oh, I’m coquette.”

You didn’t mean it seriously. Che’nya continued, “Y’know NRC students got in a fight near our school? They were recorded and Neige dropped by to save them and it ended with Neige asking [name] on a da—”

“It was a misunderstanding,” you cut in before you felt like you were rude for doing so. “I’m sorry Aritemy, I don’t mean to be rude, but everyone—this is just justification at this point—but everyone has been calling it a date.”

“A date?” Trey asked as Riddle’s eyes only widened a little. “But you said the video was taken down? For your privacy, [name], that’s good news. And for us, mind if we catch up later instead?”

“Certainly! I’ll get outta your hair!”

“And Che’nya, don’t use your signature spell to spook any other visitors, okay?”

“No promises~”

“[name] doesn’t really stick out,” Grum muttered as he walked with the others to the dressing room, his hand being held by another dwarf to avoid getting lost. “They seem bland for Neige.”

“You met…?” a cheerful dwarf asked, eyes gleaming. “Oh! I wish I hadn’t gotten lost!”

“Grum, had it not been for [name]-san, we would’ve engaged in a fight,” Dominic said as he led the group of dwarves to the dressing room. “What Neige saw in [name]-san is not our business, and [name]-san is incredibly nice.”

“You saw [name]?”

“Oh, Neige!” Snick chimed before looking away to sneeze again, prompting Dominic to sigh and hand him a handkerchief. “They helped us earlier!”

“Do you remember where they were?” Neige asked, helping Snick wipe his nose but promptly pulled away to look outside the dressing room for [name]’s presence. “I…”

A dark feeling washed over him; it felt unfair for them to be able to see you first before he did when he arrived first to the dressing room, expecting you to be near Night Raven College’s side on the team.

It felt so unfair. He was the one who missed you the most, he thought. His rosy lips pressed on each other softly then he’d bite on a tiny part of his bottom lip as he looked for you outside the stage.

“Neige?” Dominic asked, concerned over his friend’s well-being.

Neige had been over the moon ever since he ‘saved’ you from those thugs even if you were with other people; he was a fan to the flames of rumors about him asking you on a date because he liked the thought of it.

The dwarves, but Dominic and Grum, were extremely supportive about it too.

There’s a few Night Raven College students nearby and they were talking, some of them looked happy to receive the attention of the reporters and some of them are getting nervous about it.

There’s a ginger who was a little nervous yet tried to make a rational decision, and the main of the team, Vil Schoeheit—Neige hasn’t met him in a while—but that must be your team, he could find you through them.

“[name]!” Neige chimed.

“Where!?”

The dwarves, but Dominic and Grum, were insanely curious.

“Neige…” the actor said as Neige cuts in the middle of the talk of their team with a smile and wave towards the members, but ultimately going to you.

“Oh, Neige,” you smiled politely, but you were not comfortable with him walking up to you and focusing on you, especially after that one viral video. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s been forever!” he smiled, more than you did, without a care in the world, unlike you. “I should’ve told you to wait for me in the gate, you haven’t been responding to me, you promised me your time—”

“So that’s Neige LeBlanche…” Ace muttered. “No wonder he’s a household name, even the way he walks and talks is perfectly choreographed.”

“He’s not giving off the intense aura Vil has…” Kalim whispers.

“His smile is entirely unlike Vil’s. It is unaffected, like a tiny flower blooming—it’s different! Oui! The cameras better take this in all angles! And first-name basis!?”

“Hmph, the more innocuous someone looks, the worse they’re likely to act behind the scenes,” Jamil huffs, crossing his arms. “That’s how entertainers are.”

“Do you have any room to talk there?” Grim whispered before he frowned when Neige took your hand. “I don’t like this! Why is he all up on [name]!?”

“Oooh, I mean ‘ya can’t expect Grim to know, he doesn’t really have a phone,” Epel says, sighing. “Or [name] limits you to screentime?”

“—I missed you!” Neige exclaims after the long speech about what he should’ve said and done so you and him would meet sooner. “While we’re here we should have others take our picture—”

“Excuse me, Night Raven College entrants! It’s time for your rehearsal. Please stand by!”

“I really… really appreciate your words, Neige,” you whisper, not wanting anyone to know what you were telling him. “It’s quite hard to miss you when you occupy my mind a lot, you know?”

You wanted to let him down a little, and not tell him he occupied most of your time during practice due to his constant texts, that you couldn’t say to tone it down, and as for your lack of responses, it was because you put it on silent mode for Riddle and Trey.

Neige froze and your arm flinched ever so slightly when his grip on your hand tightened. He stuttered, “Me—me too! To you…!”

“If you’ll excuse our manager, Neige,” Vil cuts in and places a hand on your shoulder, gently. “We need them for the rehearsal.”

“Oh, right, sorry, Neige,” you say, embarrassed since you took a bit too long in trying to shoo Neige away for the rehearsal. “Perhaps later.”

“Later—okay!” the artist accepted it so quickly and he nodded. “I’m looking forward to your performance!”

The first years were confident, but you, Vil, and possibly Rook would know that the team had been outplayed by the performance of Royal Sword Academy, whose performance was not in synchronized.

It was a different type of charisma, and you didn’t wish that Neige would lose but you didn’t want your team to lose either, especially not when Vil’s sanity thread was thinning.

“Vil…?” you whispered as you walked with the model, trying to catch up, but scared to hold his arm. “Vil.”

It’s not that you and him were strangers, it was just that his vibe felt different—unapproachable—and you wanted to know why without further triggering the seemingly trance he was in.

Vil paused in front of someone’s dressing room, but turned to you, who was confused. To him, he was confused about you, he discreetly confided in you, and he knew you picked up on the depth of his dislike towards Neige but you still got involved with him.

“You should go back,” he said, a bottle of juice in his hand and you couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong with the bottle he was holding.

“Of course, but…” you said, trying to make up with an excuse on the spot without telling Vil straight up that you felt like you currently couldn’t trust him to be alone. “Neige was kind of… calling me over.”

It was a lie. Neige did want to talk to you, but there’s no specified date and time.

Your heart pounded as Vil right now felt dangerous for you, every bit of him felt off for you, and it wasn’t the same as when you found him intimidating when you two first met and started talking.

“I see, so you’re with Neige too,” the actor muttered and now you tried to get close, but the door to the dressing room opened on its own and you paused.

“Oh, Vi,” Neige’s head peeked out of the door, his gaze going to Vil and then to you, his eyes brightened visibly, much to Vil’s dismay. “Oh! [name]-san…! It’s good to see you again—do you want to come in?”

“Ah…” you muttered and you smiled a little, albeit awkwardly as you glanced at Vil to check and then at the ominous bottle. “Of cour—”

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk before rehearsals,” Vil cuts in and you swore you saw Neige flinch back a little when the actor covered your frame. “I was hoping we might chat a bit more.”

“Oh, of course,” Neige said as he stepped out of the dressing room. “I was thinking the same thing, why don’t you two come in—”

“Vil, the rest might be looking for us,” you said, hoping to convince Vil to drop what he might be planning as you gently pinched his sleeve, not wanting to cause a fold. “Even if there’s time—”

As soon as you touched Vil’s sleeve, Neige’s hand clasped around your wrist, and he didn’t seem to mind, he just smiled at you, adding up to your burdens since you felt like something was awfully wrong and Neige wasn’t helping.

“It’s okay! You can stay,” Neige said, trying to convince you and Vil, but mostly Vil since you seem to be following the actor around. “Dominic and the others aren’t around, they can’t really sit still so they’re at the booths. We have a lot of time to talk and I… I have something for you.”

You did not know what to say, because you needed to get Vil away from Neige as soon as you could, not only for Neige’s safety, but also for Vil; you can’t wreck your brain how else you could take Vil away when Neige was clinging.

It was not that you didn’t appreciate that the artist was so open to your presence and would always make you feel welcomed, but the situation was quite dire and having Vil approach Neige right after their performance felt so wrong.

“Speaking of something, I have something for you, Neige,” Vil says, holding you by the other arm causing you to look at Vil with concern. “I brought you some apple juice. I’ve been quite taken with this brand recently.”

“Oh! The one you posted about in Magicam!” Neige says, but his eyes were quick to look at the bottle since his eyes immediately went down on Vil’s hand on your arm. “I’ve been waiting to try it… thank you.”

“I—I’ll hold it,” you cut in but you can’t take the bottle when Neige’s hand is tightly on your arm and Vil has the other. “Since Neige and I will talk anyways…”

You looked over at Neige, hoping he would catch on your words and take you away; the glint in his eyes told you he did and the way he moved to wrap his hands on your arm seemed like he was going to take you away.

You were so wrong. He took the bottle and said, “Ah! Yes, we’re going to talk! Are you thirsty, [name]? Do you mind if we share the drink?”

All that was on Neige’s mind was an indirect kiss that happened in movies that he starred in, long filmings that he was in, and he was not the main character of those movies, but he watched people do it.

He watched people get giddy over it and didn’t understand it until now. He wanted to have your lips on his even if it comes from items, even better if it came directly from the source: you.

Your face nearly displayed a horrified expression upon his words, because his words meant you’d have to drink it first and the drink was the item you were most suspicious about.

“I…” you gulped.

You didn’t want Vil to find out you might’ve caught up to what he might be doing, and you didn’t want Neige to know what Vil was doing, because as far as you know they both knew each other and Neige genuinely liked Vil.

This was what you get for looking at both sides. You became the sacrifice and you didn’t know if you minded or not, because you cared less about what happened to you, more on the consequences.

“Should I drink first?” Neige asked. “But I…”

To Neige’s point of view, if he drinks first, you might avoid the place where he drank at and he would miss the opportunity to drink again if you chug the entire drink, he’s not sure if you would or wouldn’t, but he didn’t want to miss the chance.

You took too long and Vil might get suspicious. You grabbed the uncapped drink, much to Vil’s surprise that he released your hand as you said, “No, it’s okay, I can take it first…”

When you saw Vil surprised, it was the validation you needed that your instincts were correct and that something was wrong.

There were small traces of mist coming out; if it were a cold drink, you’d assume it was from the coldness, but the drink was quite lukewarm.

You’ve witnessed Vil’s unique magic, you learned that he can put any rules or conditions that he can’t even reverse, and you weren’t sure what the condition of the drink was, but there you were, placing the rim on your bottom lip.

“Henchman!”

Grim suddenly jumped on your arm and caused the bottle to fall down because you didn’t want to drink it in the first place, and at the same time, you see Rook and Kalim on their way.

You held Grim properly in your arms before you grabbed Neige by the arm, wrapping your arm over his and then you led him away so he wouldn’t see the drink bubbling on the ground.

Your heart was at your ears, you can’t let Neige find out about Vil, because if it goes public, Vil’s reputation would die—you felt incredibly stressed and Grim was stimulating you more by shoving his paws on your chin and asking what was going on.

It was such a huge difference compared to Neige, who happily clung to your arm with his head on your shoulders, speechless by how you apparently ‘whisked’ him away like that, and you only snapped out of your trance when Jamil waved you over.

“Excuse me, you’re Neige LeBlanche, yes?” Jamil asked and Neige was even hesitant to open his eyes to look at him because he was comfortable on your shoulder. “I’m such a huge fan! I can’t believe I met you in person—and [name]... is this your… lover?”

Your jaw dropped at Jamil’s words as Grim exclaimed, “MYAH—”

“Oh! It’s not like that, but I appreciate your—”

Neige only wanted to look Jamil in the eyes in order to memorize his features since he was a Night Raven College student and seemingly your friend, but he was easily hypnotized by Jamil and you rubbed your forehead.

“Thanks for the save,” you whispered. “I’ll gaslight him later.”

A lot of things happened and Neige still couldn’t even read the room, you hesitate, wondering if it was right to keep such a person on your side, even Kalim could read the room better than Neige could.

You let out a breath as Jamil ordered Neige to sing and dance away from the entire coliseum; you have no idea where Neige would go, but hopefully, it would be far away from the purple stage—and you hoped he would leave quickly since the skies started to darken as a symbol Vil was overblotting.

When others waited for Vil to wake up, you had to sit and try not to think too much because of the constant happenings all within one hour; it didn’t feel right to blame Neige.

It didn’t feel right to blame Neige for the castings of the movies, and that he was always chosen as a hero when Vil was always chosen as a villain and was compared to how Neige presents himself.

You couldn’t help but think that Neige was ignorant, and at the same time, you also thought about the possibilities Neige went through as a person and artist with all that ignorance and naivety.

And what’s up with Neige? He has no danger sensors, but Vil was a good actor so it could be quite impossible to know he had malicious intentions and you only knew because you were with him before the incident.

“Should I be happy I got you thinking?” Vil asked. “Did you know what the condition was?”

He was being supported by Rook and the other dancers were trying to figure out how to fix the colosseum; Vil was not exactly happy, he remembered the way the drink’s rim was in your mouth and had it not been for Grim, who knew what could happen to you?

You shake your head and that didn’t make Vil feel any better—not that he ever will be since you still nearly drank it.

“I thought it was fine,” you muttered, sighing. “Rook would’ve done the same.”

“You would?”

“Oui, I would want to believe in you, the you who strives harder and reaches for greater heights than any other. I don’t want you to besmirch yourself by doing anything foolish.”

“I just happen to feel the same,” you muttered, even though you hesitated. “I don’t want your reputation to be ruined, Vil. I’ll carry your poison to my grave.”

“You’ve barely been here for a year,” Vil said and you’re reminded by your supposed home in a world different from where you currently sat. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

“I would, if it helps,” you laughed a little, unable to handle the serious moment, especially when the tension was crushing you a little. “I’d forgive you, Vil, I really… believe you are a kind person.”

In a moment of vulnerability, Vil’s chest clenched; he didn’t know you well, only knowing you from a few lessons in class because of you being a third year, but you do catch his attention on a few occasions.

Occasions such as you being knowledgeable in skin care, or the you that one time offered to give his face a massage while he stayed at Ramshackles; occasions that send his heart fluttering.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” a horned person stood nearby and you looked over. “I thought I’d arrive a bit early, and what do I find but a stage laid to waste?”

“Oh, Hornton…” you muttered, a little embarrassed like you’ve been caught even if you had done nothing but bare your feelings to both Rook and Vil. “There’s still two hours before the competition opens.”

“Hornton…!?”

“Oh, hey! So you’re the Hornton guy that wanders around Ramsheckle’s gardens late at night,” Grim said, earning the attention of the first and second years as if the third years weren’t already surprised by you. “I heard about you from [name], you really do have horns growin’ outta your head! Myah hah hah—MRAH!”

“Grim, are you nuts!?” Deuce whispered his hiss as he held Grim to his chest with a hand on his mouth. “Y-you can’t just talk to an upperclassman that way!”

“Roi des Dragons, how did you get into the coliseum?” Rook asked, earning a huff from the person.

“I was invited, by the child of man living in Ramshackle Dorm. I have my invitation right here.”

“I don’t think it’s that…” you said as you got up and dusted your bum. “The venue still has that mist, but for some reason you’re unscathed? Isn’t it the poison mist from Vil’s unique magic?”

“I suppose there was some sort of cantrip up when I came in,” the man said. “But no curse, no matter how powerful, will work on me.”

“I see you’ve taken advantage of [name]’s ignorance,” Vil said as he huffed.” Malleus Draconia.”

“Oh dang…” you muttered, remembering the times you heard his name but never saw him during the Spelldrive tournament because of the flying disk that went to your head.

THIS IS HEIZNX, DAMN I LOST MY CHANCE TO PUT MANIPULATIVE NEIGE AGAJFJFHJFG BECAUSE VDC TOOK SO GODDAMN LONG. but anyways… i’m not too proud of it but i want to just post whatever i write since i have no job and i’m waiting for college to start. Original title was pretty please and it inspired me so bad but goddamn :((

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst neige #neige #neige leblanche #neige x reader #neige leblanche x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere neige #yandere neige leblanche

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eomayas · 8 hours

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his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

#svt imagines #svt smut #svt angst #vernon smut #vernon angst #vernon fluff #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #vernon x y/n #svt x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon

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