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rinneverse · 3 months

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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 — 𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆. ˒ ⊹

syn. you think jealousy is a good look on aventurine. too bad he has to remind you that you belong to him, and him only. (1.8k) pair. aventurine x f!reader cw. jealous aventurine my beloved / fem-aligned reader / pet names used: pretty girl, doll, angel, princess, good girl / oral (f!receiving) / fingering / teasing and begging / prone bone / spanking (like.. one time) / p in v penetration / creampie / multiple rounds are insinuated. teehee. love, oak! loooorrrrrdddddd aventurine. i've been obsessed w him since he was mentioned in topaz's quest ♡. about to start the penacony quest now, i'm literally buzzing w/ excitement over seeing him!!!!!!!

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

aventurine thinks he can be a little bit... petty, sometimes.

but of course, who wouldn't be, when one sees some random stranger putting their hands all over what's theirs?

so obviously, aventurine does the one thing he does best.

put on a show.

"hey, pretty girl," aventurine drawls, sidling up to you as he slides an arm around your waist. the grip he has on your hip is near-bruising, the only indication that he was currently ticked off. "you tired of this bar yet? i'd like to leave soon." his voice is a soft croon as he brings his lips to your ear, warm breath brushing the sensitive skin there. "i've got better things for us to be doin' in mind."

you gasp, playfully slapping his chest. your attention is completely off the man you were just chatting up, and aventurine shoots him a lazy grin. the man merely grumbles and leaves.

it makes him feel pure satisfaction, really.

aventurine turns you in his grip so that you're chest to chest with him—forces you to tilt your head back to look up at him. he smiles prettily down at you, as if he weren't just scheming to whisk you away from all the attention you were just receiving.

"better things, huh?" you say, glossy lips forming a matching grin to his as you look up at the blond. "like what? that man was just about to buy me a drink, you know. how're you gonna make up for that?"

he nearly lets his perfect mask slip—a twitch of his eyebrow is all you notice. but he tilts his head, looks down at you with those pretty lavender eyes of his.

"oh doll, if you wanted a drink, why didn't you just say so?"

your eyes gleam with mischief. you trail your fingers up his chest, your lips pursing in a pout.

"it's more fun charming a guy into buying it.." you sigh dramatically.

"who says you haven't charmed me?"

"no one. everyone knows i've already got you wrapped around my finger."

he can't argue with that. no, he can't argue with the irrefutable truth.

because you do. he's wrapped around your pretty little finger, and you know it. you exploit it. he doesn't mind, though.

aventurine doesn't deal with what doesn't pay off. and in the end, a pretty thing like you always does.

so he smiles again, tilting your chin up with a gloved finger. he lets a little bit of the hunger he feels shine in his eyes—he basks in the way your eyes shutter, your red-painted lips parting slightly.

“how about this, then—will you let me charm you, pretty?” he purrs, thumb coming up to gently tug at your bottom lip.

your throat bobs as you swallow. a shallow nod of your head follows—as much as he’ll allow while he grips your chin.

“good. you know how great i am at making your dreams come true, don’t you?”

there’s no room for debate there, nor does he give you any; aventurine’s smug demeanor is never undeserved, if the way he has you grasping the sheets of his bed later is concrete proof of that.

“’venturine,” you whine, back arching off the ruffled white sheets of the bed, “please, need you inside me, noooow.” the last word comes out in a long moan as his fingers stroke just the right spot inside of you. a flick of his tongue against your puffy clit draws a cry of pleasure from your lips.

he hasn’t even taken his clothes off yet, and he already has you a mewling mess for him. again, he feels that familiar sense of satisfaction flow through him.

aeons. he loved seeing you so debauched, flushed and squirming beneath him as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you.

“c’mon angel, one more time for me—you can do it, can’t you?”

the low drawl of his voice is drowned out by the lewd squelch of his fingers inside you, constantly moving and stroking your walls in just the way you liked it. at this rate, you were going to go insane, but you feel your climax cresting, rising up and up and up, until it comes crashing down with a particular crook of his fingers inside you. he doesn’t let up, doesn’t grant you any mercy as you sob and convulse with pleasure. “’venturineee!”

finally, finally, he stops, withdrawing his fingers (his sleeve is completely soaked with your essence, he notes smugly) and rising after a swift kiss to your sweet pussy. you lay there, a puddle of nerves still buzzing with pleasure.

the clink of his belt and the rustle of fabric falling to the floor, and then you’re being maneuvered so gently, rolled onto your front with large, gentle hands. there’s a pillow being slid under your hips, another for your pretty head, and then you feel the bed dip with the weight of aventurine settling into place right behind you.

you let out a soft cry as you feel the blunt head of his cock rub against your still too sensitive cunt, his hands gripping the plush globes of your ass as he spreads you for him. he loves the little sounds you make as he teases you, dipping the tip in but never quite going any farther than that.

no, he wanted to hear you beg for it.

“what do we say when we want something, princess?” aventurine hums, drawing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, achingly slow.

“oh,” you sigh sweetly. “need you to fuck me. please, ‘ven, need it so bad.”

your plea is like sugared candy on his tongue, a torturous substance he’s addicted to as he allows himself to slowly sink inside you. he takes his time—you’re whining and squirming beneath him, and he has to hold you still with firm hands—but only goes as far as an inch, shallowly moving his hips.

“like that?” he asks coyly.

you look over your shoulder to glare at him. at the nasty look you shoot him, his eyes narrow; he lifts a hand, only to bring it down on the sensitive skin on your ass. you let out a yelp.

“now, now, only good girls get what they want. you’re a good girl, aren’t ya?”

you respond with a desperate whine. aventurine knows when you’re reaching your limit though, and like the good person he is, he’s decided he’s had enough fun torturing you. besides, he’s nearing his own limit—the walls of your cunt just feel so delicious around him—and it’s taking a willpower of steel to not pound you into oblivion right then and there.

aventurine sighs dramatically, hands drifting up your spine, ghosting along your back. he likes the way you shiver beneath him, completely helpless to his whims. he’s quiet for a moment, drinking in the way you’re breathing harshly beneath him as he lets himself dip a little further into you, and then: “alright, i’ve teased you enough. you’ve been so good for me.”

the words are like music to your ears—as well as the only warning you receive before he’s gripping your hips, lifting and adjusting you so he hits just the angle he knows you like, and he starts a brutal pace that rips a harsh moan from your lips.

he’s absolutely unforgiving in the way he fucks you, but he knows it’s just the way you like it. searing, molten heat flows through your veins with every stroke, nerves like lightning as you’re overwhelmed with the all-consuming sensation of aventurine all over you. it’s not just the way he fucks you—the way he presses his chest to your back as his hips rut into you, the way he has you completely pinned, rough hands spreading you oh-so perfectly for him, the way his lips press to the nape of your neck, his breath ghosting along your skin as he groans, right up in your ear.

“fuck—you’re so fucking tight, pretty—yeah, you like this, don’t you? can feel you clenchin’ around my cock.” he makes a point to thrust his hips especially rough at the end of each sentence, coaxing a long, desperate moan from you. you’re mindlessly babbling at this point, barely able to form a coherent sentence as he fucks all sense of sanity from your head.

and when he snakes a hand around you, brushing down your navel towards the apex of your thighs, you let out a broken sob as deft fingers find your clit. paired with each perfectly aimed thrust, you’re coming undone beneath him in a matter of seconds, walls convulsing around him.

“where do you want me, angel?” aventurine coos in your ear. his voice is raspy, lust-drunk and breathy as he struggles to hold himself together, to stave off the orgasm he knows is imminent.

“inside,” you gasp out. “wan’ it inside!” your words slur together as he fucks you through your own orgasm. you feel electric as his hips start to stutter, your only other hint that aventurine is close, so so close, and you want him falling with you. so you clench the delicate muscles in your pelvis, walls fluttering around his cock so perfectly, it feels like life and death and infinity and oblivion all at once.

he presses deep inside you, holding you so tight to him as he cums, hard, just the way you wanted him to. you clutch the pillow under your head to ground yourself, muffling the moan you let out as his hips twitch and then eventually pull away, drawing himself out of you. the sensation makes you hiss softly, displeased at the empty feeling he leaves you with.

aventurine smiles at the sight—of you, blissfully fucked out on his bed, hips still slightly raised from the pillow as his cum drips out of you. it might’ve been obscene to some, but he was so utterly fucking obsessed with you that really, it’s got him ready to go for another round.

he only gives you a moment to catch your breath.

then you’re being flipped over, aventurine slotting himself between your legs, his already hard cock pressing against your messy cunt. he smiles down at you, a purely predatory look in his eyes as his gaze meets yours.

“don’t tell me you’re tired out already, princess,” he drawls, basking in the way your sleepy eyes widen with shock. “you’ve gotta cum at least a couple more times before i’m satisfied. i’m gonna make sure my name is the only one you remember, ‘kay?”

and as he slides into you, torturously slow, you realize that you might just be in for a long night.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #☆ oakie writes #good morning yall

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teddybeartoji · 28 days

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THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

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dcxdpdabbles · 9 months

Text

DC X DP Fic idea: Retired-Rouge.

Danny gets into making teddy bears. He didn't start that way; honestly, he was mostly trying to fix Bearbert Einstein after his mom accidentally burnt him with a misfired ray gun.

Jazz had broken down into tears, and it had ripped apart his heart and his core to see her so distressed. He went to the local- and only- fabric store in Amity Park to find materials and try to repair his sister's beloved teddy bear when his mom's attempts to fix the bear only made him look worse.

Just his luck that the only fabric shop for miles around was Weston Fabrics and that the person manning the cashier was Wes himself. The other boy had nearly thrown him out when Danny walked in, but thankfully his older brother Kyle had talked Wes down and helped Danny find fabrics for Bearbert.

Surprisingly, Wes had even helped him set up one of their sewing stations to get started on Bearbert.

The strange part was when Danny turned the machine on and found his hands moving independently. As if he had been doing it for years, he expertly put together the bear and even went through the other fabrics to make him new outfits. Wes had watched the whole time, raising a brow when Danny got up to pay.

"Thought you didn't know how to sew?"

"I thought so too. Must be a ghost thing." Danny replied then smirked as the redhead glared.

"A ghost thing?" Wes all but sneers. He still trying to expose Danny as Phantom and had yet to get proof, even with Danny teasing him in the open. As it were, Kyle, who was unpacking new needles rolled his eyes behind the red hair teenager.

"Yeah, since I have a protection core as Phantom, it sometimes transfers into my human side. Do you know how teddy bears guard children at night against bad dreams? Same thing"

Wes pauses, then slowly blinks; he whispers with a small baffled smile, "That's kind of adorable. A teddy bear to keep you safe through the night."

And Danny? He didn't mean to, but he found Wes sort of hot at that moment. Not the Wow, that guy is a celebrity hot but a Be careful who you call ugly in middle school because Puberty made them delicious over the summer break hot.

He will admit that he returned to Weston Fabrics to flirt more with Wes and made so many teddy bears as a disguise. The good news was that all his works were a hit, and even some kids at school started asking for special commissions when word got around about the special Nightmerica teddy bear he made for Sam's birthday.

He makes money, gets a boyfriend, and when he donates the teddy bears to a local hospital, he discovers a new power. Through items he made himself, Danny can send waves of comforting energy to the people around the item, like a miniature zen distributor. The patients that have his toys start to show greater rest from both nightmares and lower anxiety, depression, and general sadness.

He lets Wes name this power, which later becomes the name of his teddy bear business- Phantom Relief. After dating for two years and graduating, both boys agree the spark had been lost but remain good friends. Danny takes his thriving teddy bear-making skills to his new college in Gotham while Wes leaves for Star City.

In Gotham is where things get....stranger. See, Danny knows someone new to the city will never truly understand a city's problems. But the rapid amount of homeless kids is so shocking he starts making clothes and blankets to try and give them out because they shouldn't be out there freezing like that! He even tries passing along some teddy bears to them, hoping to soothe their pain with some Zen waves.

The key word is tries.

Gotham kids do not trust or like free handouts. Danny burst into tears when a thirteen-year-old asked if he wanted the kid to use his hand or mouth in exchange for the new blanket. The street kid seemed surprised when Danny was horrified by the question. No one else found it strange, the kid said, wrapped in a Superman blanket that Danny made only a day before, it's just how things are done around here.

The worst part is the homeless thirteen-year-old is right. Everywhere he looks, Danny finds more people needing protection- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Gotham is just filled with people suffering. He couldn't keep up. It's tearing him apart trying to help everyone.

His core feels like it will burst from all the overloaded cries of help it can pick up. One night Danny can't take it anymore, so he shifts into Phantom and flies out to the old Drake manner, abandoned since Janet Drake's murder, where the cries are muffled, and dials Wes' number with shaking hands.

His ex picks up listens to his sobs and tells him "You can't save people who don't want to be saved. But you can try to reach them in a way they understand."

It's precisely what he needs to hear.

Ancients, but he misses the man sometimes. Why did Danny ever let Wes Weston go? Well, as they say, Right person, wrong time. Maybe that was why.

So Danny decided the only way to get to Gotham was to be like Gotham. And who were the people that dramatically changed the city with every random plot? With every random heist?

Gotham Rogues.

So all Phantom had to do was become one, which shouldn't be too hard since people in Amity Park still debated if he was good or not years later. He fixes up his Phantom suit to something more Gotham villain, keeping the colors but removing the jumpsuit and adding a suit and vest alongside a mask and two giant needles.

He appears in Crime Alley- because that's where the most cries come from- and just challenges everything and everyone to take the area from him. He fights off so many gangs- even Red Hood, who puts up a great fight- but after the dust settles, he now runs the place.

He then starts- fixing the place. Starts sending out clothes for the homeless, starts fixing up buildings, gives Phantom Reflief out-teddy bears to kids, fake emulates to adults, starts sending the gang kids back to school, forces landlords to lower the housing, and illegally makes everyone get along.

He spreads his tyranny to the rest of the city, fighting the good and bad sides of the law. The bats give him one hell of a challenge, but Danny beat the Ghost King when he was an untrained brat. This is nothing. Batman gets better with every fight, and so do his associates.

Things look good until the Joker tries him too much when the clown somehow gets to Wes. Has the love of his life tied to a bomb with enough Joker Venom to fill half the city, and Danny sees red.

When he comes to, it's to Wes holding him in his arms, whispering reassurances, and Joker nothing but a smear on the ground. Danny can't live with what he's done; he runs away, shifts into his human side, and vows to never be Phantom again.

After four years of peace due to Phantom's hostile takeover, Gotham mourns the loss but doesn't fall into so much crime now that the ghost crime lord is gone. Danny thinks he's done his job and chooses to melt into the background. He opens a little shop for fabrics and custom-made teddy bears.

Wes finds him, agrees to try and rekindle their love, and a year later agrees to the marriage.

All is well until seventeen-year-old Tim Drake strolls into his fabric shop. Clutching a superboy teddy bear, he gave a shivering fourteen-year-old the first week as Phantom Gotham Villain with a stern look in his eye.

"Phantom- I need you to help me find Batman, who is lost in time, or I will expose your secret identity to the rest of Gotham."

Well, shit.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Wes Weston/Danny Fenton #Tim Drake blackmails his way #Danny became a villain to illegally get people to get along.#He's retired now!#And gotham 's dangerous rate went down 60% thanks to his efforts #No the bats still don't know who he is besides Tim #Danny is too old for this shit

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mari-the-bimbo · 2 months

Note

First things first. I love your writings. Especially the ex-husband ones❤

Two I hope you don't mind me requesting a ex-husband geto?

-🌼

Ex husband Geto

A/N: Ohhh you ATE with this idea I’m getting butterflies just thinking about it 😫 Happy late valentines my loves!! 🫶🏽💗

Ex husband Geto is a terrifying blend of ex husband Gojo and Nanami’s worst traits. He is extremely unhinged like his white haired best friend but good at playing nice guy like Nanami.

He’s ‘respectful’. Always paying a sum of money to spend on yourself as well as child support, always bringing chocolates when visiting, always insisting to stay over and help out with your daughter when you’re on your period (he knows your cycle because he refuses to log out of your Flo partners account from back when you were married hehe), and he does it all with a small smile on his face.

He loves his precious baby daughter so much! She inherited his dark hair but your enchanting eyes and smile. His eyes soften at the way she giggles just like you when he presses kisses to her rosy cheeks. His little girl loves playing with her dad’s long black hair. He was born to be a girl dad.

However Geto still struggles with boundaries. You try to shake it off when his fingers touch your waist or when he ‘accidentally’ still calls you sweetheart. “sorry bad habits” he dry chuckles. He’s admitted he’s struggling to get over his feelings for you so you try to be nice about it.

But what you can’t shake off is the way he always happens to know where you are, or he always happens to turn up just before a date, or the way he always whispers a question to your daughter when you leave the room.

Geto’s fixation with you definitely makes his own mental wellbeing spiral, but this man is self aware, this man knows the effect you have on him since the day you left.

So if you ever had the audacity to break his heart and see another man behind his back, it’s over for you.

You’ll be confused when you hear the doorbell ring at 11 in the night. Once you spot the familiar black Bugatti, you open the door, “Geto? The kids are at my moms so-“

“And why’s that y/n?” he cuts you off, his chilling voice suddenly calling you by your actual name rather than sweetheart, as he barges into the house and towers over you, black stands of his hair falling forward.

“You just throw your daughter away to go on dates?” He accuses you and the change from his usual gentleman demeanour unsettles you as his dark eyes burn into you.

“W- what are you talking about? I’m allowed to go on dates and take my daughter to her nans Geto! And how did you know I-“

“You knew-“ he seethes as he inches closer to your face. “You knew I’m struggling to get over you but I’ve been so nice to you and this is how you thank me?”

Some part of your subconscious knows you don’t owe him anything but the rest of you wants to give in. You gulp down your nerves but it was futile in front of a man who could easily have his way with you.

You take a deep breath before beginning, “listen Geto, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want.” Is it?

“Don’t let it happen again” he says in a voice that is so soft, contradicting his threatening words. But you know best not to take it lightly.

See that’s the thing with ex husband Geto, he lures you in with his sweetness so well, you become too scared to get on his bad side, you always want the good side.

You watch him place a bouquet of Japanese pink camelia flowers on the table, making your eyes widen. “Geto-“

“I came here to give you some flowers for valentines” he explains quietly, “all I wanted was to show you my feelings are sincere whether we’re married or not” he guilt trips you and you know you’re falling for it when he towers over you and holds your face in his large hands. You always do when it came to your beloved ex husband.

So you’re complicit when you picks you up and places you on the sofa, his large hands move to your thighs, groping and kissing them, chuckling when you gasp at his fingers fiddling with the lining of your underwear.

“I know you just needed some love sweetheart, but you don’t have to go to other men, that’s what I’m here for” he convinced you as he ties up his long black hair but his eyes are still interlocked with yours.

And that’s how you always end up getting fucked by your psycho ex husband. Legs dangling in the air as you scream while he gets all the right spots with that skilful tongue of this.

Pink camellia flowers (aka/ tsubaki) are known to express a deep romantic longing and persistent desire.

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levitiquee · 5 months

Text

“Levi!”

You barge through the door, all dramatic, gasping and panting, purposely exaggerating to get his attention. But not to your surprise, he didn’t even bother looking up.

“I suppose no one ever taught you, but there’s a concept called knocking.” He said, his eyes fully focused on the papers. His hand moving across it as he wrote. “It’s quite easy really, you raise your hand and—”

“Levi!” You cut him off, slamming the door behind you loudly. “Levi, my beloved, my savior in dark times, I am in need of your help.”

“Slamming the door isn’t very polite either. Your manners get worse everyday.”

You waved him off, shushing him. You made way across the room, where a couch sat not far from the desk he was sitting on, and flopped down face first. “Levi.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Ah yes, making yourself home I see.” He sighs.

“Levi, I need your help. Real bad.”

“No.”

“What–” You look up, raising your face from the cushions, offended. “You didn’t even–”

“No.” He repeated, eyes not leaving his work for even a second. “Please, get off my couch. Cleaning it is tiresome.”

“Levi.” You whined, impatient at his aloofness. “Levi, he’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll buy you a good coffin.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed. “I’m dead. Like literally. Absolutely. This is where it all ends.”

“I’d rather you not die on my couch.”

“Fuck your couch.” You flipped yourself, so you splayed on your back now. You tilted your head, staring at him. “Help me out. Please?”

Levi finally turns to look at you, unable to ignore you any longer. He frowned. “What?” He asked warily. “What did you do this time?”

“Promise me you’ll help me first.” You said.

“No.” He immediately rejects you. “What did you do? Did you get into a fight with an MP again?”

You shook your head.

“Blew up something in Hange’s lab?” He guessed.

“No. But I’d really rather it was Hange mad at me though.”

He looked at you confused, “Who did you piss off then? “

You grimaced. He was quick to conclude.

“Ah.” He realizes. “Erwin.”

A nod from you answers him.

“What did you do?”

“Ask me what I didn’t do.”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Work.” You sat up. “In my defense, it was a shit load of work. And I hate paperwork. And I kept procrastinating. And now it’s due by tomorrow and I didn’t remember until two minutes ago when Erwin shot a glare at me. And now I—”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why not?” You demanded.

“It’s your fault. Don’t drag me into this shit.” He grumbles, scowling. “And you promised last time, you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’m not doing your work for you. I have enough on my plate.”

“Okay first of all, I’m not lazy. I was busy–”

“Ogling Garrison captains.”

“They’re pretty. And no, not the point, shut up.” You protested. “I was busy. And I didn’t come here so you could do it for me. I came here so you could go and talk to Erwin.”

Levi frowned, “Talk to him about what?”

“Tell him to give me one more day. Swear I’d work my ass off.”

“You said that last time too.” He pointed it out. “How angry is Erwin?”

You made a face. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“He keeps glaring at me everytime I meet him. It’s the ‘if you don’t get it done this time, you’re gonna get in so much shit’ glare. It’s creeping me out.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head. “Only you." He said. "Only you can possibly manage piss fucking Erwin off. The guy's a fucking monk, nothing affects him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time asking for an extension.”

“Err…” You ducked your face. “It was kinda supposed to be done 2 weeks ago.”

“2 weeks?” Levo looked at you incredulously. “No wonder he’s pissed. And you’re asking for more time?”

“One more day. Just one more day. Please Levi, he’ll listen to you.”

Levi stares at your pleading expression for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, considering. Thinking. Then he seemed to have made up his mind.

“No.”

“Wha—” You jerk upright. You really thought you’d convinced him.

“No. I’m not getting you out of the grave this time. Specially since you dug it yourself.” He returns his attention back to his work. “Good luck to you, but leave now. And learn a damn lesson.”

You stared at him, gaping. “Wow," You blinked you’re an asshole.”

“Congratulations for realizing that.”

You exhaled. Easy words won’t work, you knew. So, here comes plan A. Acting.

You pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said what I said.”

You fluttered your lashes, all wide shiny eyes, about to cry.

“Get out before I start throwing shit at you.”

“Levi.” Plan B. Bribing.

“No.”

“Leeviii.”

“No.”

“Levi, aren’t you the sweetest, most dearest, my absolute favorite and delightful and super awesome with extra sugar on top bestiest best friend? Don’t be like that, c’mon.”

“Still no. And we’re not friends.”

“‘I’ll make you pie?” You offered.

“You can’t cook to save your life. No.”

"I'll give you hugs."

"I will slap you."

“Levi.” Plan C. Threatening.

He glares back at you.

"You do realize you could've used this time getting the report started instead of trying to convince me and actually might've manage to get it done?”

“I’ll read poetry to you.” You threatened.

Levi looks up, finally there’s a hint of alarm on his face. “No, you won’t.”

“I’ll make sure all your food touch.”

“Get out.”

“I’ll disorganize your bookshelf and fill it with those titan x scout love novels.”

He raised his middle finger at you.

“I will start telling you about all my exes.”

He cringed visibly.

Finally, you gave up. Dragging yourself off the couch, you slowly, pathetically, miserably made your way to the door. You knew that the odds were very low that Levi would actually help you this time, because he was right. You needed to learn a lesson. And it was your fault.

“Oi.”

Your hand was on the doorknob. “What?” You turned to look at him grumpily.

Levi was pinching the bridge of his nose, knitting his eyebrows together, irritated and annoyed. Like he was about to do something he regretted.

He let out a long exhale.

“Bring it here. I’ll help you.”

“What?” You asked, disbelief dripping from your tone. Were you dreaming?

“I’ll help you out. Just this time.” He grunts. “Don’t expect it again. And I’ll only guide you, you’re doing the most of it.”

Music to your ears.

“Really?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He huffed.

You broke into a wide grin, beaming up at him. “No wonder I love you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“You’re the best,”

“Shut up.”

“The best. The most darling, the loveliest, the coolest, the–”

“10 seconds. I’m giving you 10 seconds.”

“Oh–” Your eyes widened. You learnt the hard way Levi usually means his time limits. “Okay, okay, wait here, wait. I’ll be right back. Just–”

And you were out the door,

“Fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself, as you yet again, slammed the door.

He wish he knew why he kept doing this to himself.

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mylittleredgirl · 1 month

Text

i know some of you have been pressing your faces to the glass waiting for me to see this one in particular SO i saw "the nurses" the other night and am still thinking about it!!

i love love love it when characters get pushed to a point where you can almost see their childhood selves pop out, like are they even talking about what's happening right now? or are their 12-year-old hearts just screaming?? i love that margaret's outburst is both irrational (the hostile work environment is coming from inside the house; i was yelling at my tv "baby it's your fault!!!") and so so honest.

[this turned into a bit of a character thesis, so not only is there a readmore, there will also be a reblog soon with the rest of the post because i maxed out the image limit] [edit: part ii now in the reblogs!]

this whole time, margaret has treated her subordinates with a heavy hand because she thinks it's the right and fair thing to do. the rules say this is how it works!

she maintains a high standard of excellence in brutal circumstances, but she's also reactive, moody, and unforgiving. she's often shown on the edge of losing control and authority, she inflames situations by overreacting, and the thing she punishes most egregiously is disrespect (toward frank, toward the army, toward herself). she intentionally underlines the distance between herself and the other nurses at every turn.

from season 3 "there's nothing like a nurse": [all IDs in alt]

really, everything she thinks and does comes from a place of "they're not supposed to like me," but the childish part of her that is completely unable to see her own behavior is confused and hurt because "i'm just doing my job so why don’t they like me???"

it's her job to maintain discipline, but especially here in 4077-land, she doesn't have to lead with the whip. henry was beloved because he was an overly permissive clown, which will never be her speed, but colonel potter has all the same training as she does. he's loved and respected as the Good Regular Army Guy because he leads with discernment and mutual respect.

it's easier for him. he's more experienced, he's respected and supported from above and below, and he has a calm temperament — which isn't nothing.

from season 4 "the interview":

whether she's aware of this as a problem or not, we at home can see how margaret's inability to control her emotional reactivity causes her as much grief as her inability to control other people.

if she were capable of laughing off small slights, hawkeye and trapper wouldn't have used her as a chew toy so much, and henry might have taken her real concerns more seriously if they weren't lost in the noise of daily fits, you know? she rarely started it, so i'm not blaming her for the hostile chaos circus of seasons 1-3, but i am saying she would have had a better time if she knew how to take a few deep breaths.

this description from the script, after the near-brawl in the nurses' tent in act one, is basically her character thesis statement:

and here, when she's reacting fully emotionally, the truth comes out! the reason that she won't be flexible and show compassion to the nurses isn't because of the rules, but because they're mean to her!!

that's obviously a very bad place to lead from. she has enormous institutional power over them, including controlling their freedom of movement, but she feels like all the other girls in school are hanging out together and they hate her. because they are! and they do! the fight in act one boils over when they make fun of her hair, and that sent all of them back to middle school.

and in many ways, that's where margaret's emotional maturity is stuck (which is, i think, why i find her so endearing). she can't see herself. she knows they don't like her, trust her, or want her around, but she doesn't understand how she dug this hole herself, or how to get out of it.

to add insult to jealous injury, one of the nurses (mary jo, who gets between margaret and baker to stop the fight and takes care of the others in different ways) is margaret's age, and the others look to her as their chosen leader and personal support.

and i'm sure margaret had NO IDEA this was the messy truth until she heard it come out of her mouth.

and her emotionally breaking on the "one lousy cup of coffee" in particular…

i wonder, how often does some version of that first tent scene happen? does she deliver their assignments every night? she walks in already defensive, they immediately stop laughing, and then... she either finds a reason to scold them or they ice her out until she leaves. (and they probably start laughing again as soon as she does!)

from her perspective, when she arrived for the dreaded sleepover and they turned out the lights the minute she walked in, it's like they cancelled the nightly coffee klatch just to avoid spending one social minute with her.

i also think the nurses are right when they assumed that she wouldn't have accepted an invitation to hang out with them (and might even have snapped at them for being inappropriate for asking). she doesn't cross that emotional line, even when she should — she didn't know gaynor was spiraling after losing so many patients in a row, and didn't respond compassionately when she learned.

has she ever invited them for coffee or a friendly chat? no.

...... but her circumstances have recently changed.

[reblog with the rest of it is here!]

#margaret houlihan #mash #mashblogging #margaret is a holy hot mess and i love her sooooo much

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ereawrites · 6 months

Note

Hey gurl✨ I’m in my wife era rn so maybe some Shisui and/or Tobirama husband/jealous husband hcs?🫣 I loooovee your writing and tbh your thoughts are my thoughts so no pressure😩 If you not feeling it feel free to ignore me babe🧚🏻‍♀️

YOU HAVE FED ME SO GOOD MISS GIRL! under the cut for length

shisui

this isn't too relevant but I have to include it. it's too cute. I definitely see shisui getting married pretty young, like early 20s. if he finds his person he's going for it. probably gets a lot of shit for it from his family, but he doesn't care

loooong honeymoon period. in part because they're still a young couple but also... shisui is just a really devoted husband. he loves the married life. insists on kissing her goodbye every morning, eating together every night, stuff like that

LOVES DECORATING THEIR HOUSE are u kidding me. let's say they get a kinda shitty place right after they get married, and put a tonne of work into doing it up. he gets so into painting, building the furniture, even starts up a little herb garden in their kitchen

finds so many ways to drop his wife into conversation lol. he's down bad even after the honeymoon period ends, so he wants to show her off. his FAV is when she swings by his workplace to bring him his 'forgotten' lunch. he turns around to the rest of the guys like. yeah. that's my WIFE. isn't she hot.

very much a believer in keeping the romance alive. he wants to keep making the effort with her until the day he dies. veryyyy good at remembering anniversaries, scheduling regular date nights, etc. always makes sure she has fresh flowers in the house

obviously it isn't all perfect though. especially while they're young (and presumably both still active, high-ranking shinobi) their schedules keep them apart a lot. and this hits shisui really hard tbh. he hates coming back to an empty home after a long mission, knowing he might not even see his wife before he has to leave again

work is probably where most of their arguments stem from, actually. I don't see it being a regular thing, but it's easy for resentment to build in those kinds of situations. shisui is very torn between his love for his village, and his love for his wife, and the fact he can't prioritise both. thankfully shisui is a good communicator so they make things work.

in terms of jealousy... I don't see it being a common thing. maybe before they get married he tends towards it a bit more, but once she's his wife, why would he worry? she's his entire world and he knows she loves him just as much

the only way I rly see him getting jealous at all is if they're going through a bit of a rough patch for the reasons mentioned above. maybe they haven't seen each other in weeks, and they both get back from a mission on the same day. and there's some kind of event/function that evening that they have to attend

so they barely have a chance to acknowledge each other, before they're pulled apart again by the crowd. so if shisui sees some random guy getting a little too close and flirty with her, he gets more annoyed than he'd like to admit

even then though.. he's not necessarily jealous as much as he is upset. like goddamn just let this poor man have his beloved wife to himself for a night. in this situation he's more likely to behave more rashly than usual, and he might just make some excuses and take her home lol. he gets a little bit pouty until she gives him some attention

overall, though, he's very chill. he trusts her implicitly, and expects the same from her. they need to have a very honest, respectful relationship if he's going to wife her up

god okay and in old age they're so cute together. I bet they have a bunch of kids (probably accidentally tbh lol) so then they end up with a whole squadron of grandchildren. he's that fun grandpa who sneaks them sweets when the parents aren't looking. all the grandbabies want to sleep over at their house. and they LOVE it.

to sum up: very good husband. very relaxed, communicates well, makes her feel loved every day. why did he have to die I want to throw myself off a bridge.

tobirama

first of all. good job to this woman. wrangling tobirama into marriage is not an easy job. he's so fucking ANNOYING. it probably takes him years to confess he even has feelings for her, let alone ask for her hand in marriage

but once he gets there. it's pretty cute. he doesn't really act very differently for the most part - he'd already decided his heart belonged to her well before they married, and wholly committed. so his behaviour doesn't change much, and there isn't much of a honeymoon period. sorry. he's like marriage is just a contractual agreement why would it change anything between us

he does make a few little indulgences though. he gets this smug little look every time he introduces her as his wife. he's actually just a lot more prone to 'showing her off' in general, and more likely to show some physical affection in public. for tobirama that's maybe a peck on the cheek lol. but it's progress

he's definitely a lot.... gentler?idk. with her once they're married as well. he makes an effort to be more patient and less snippy, and shows his appreciation for her in a lot of quiet little ways. for example, he'll be sure to leave work on time no matter how busy it is if he knows she's putting a lot of effort into dinner that night. or if she spends a second too long looking at a new dress in the store, he's buying it for her

on that note. tobirama is such a provider once they're married. he does have that traditional idea of providing for his wife. he'll probably ask her if she wants to become a stay at home wife tbh. if she says yes, he still expects her to get out in the community of course. he'd love if she did volunteering work, maybe at the hospital or with kids or something. but he's also equally happy for her to keep working. power couple vibes very strong

they have a nice, quiet little house away from the village where no one bothers then and they loooove it. especially tobirama, his wife and their home are his sanctuary. everyone else gtfo

other than that, not much is really different from before their marriage. they probably actually lead quite independent lives, to the point where people don't even know they're married until tobirama drops it into conversation a few months later. they're very private and lowkey.

unfortunately for her, tobirama's paranoia also persists. he's a bit delulu sometimes lol and she knows this going in. but it does inevitably cause some issues, especially if she's headstrong (which is definitely the type of woman he ends up with)

he trusts his wife more than anything. he would never doubt her for a second. but other men? the enemy. not to be trusted. they're all dogs. it drives him absolutely batshit crazy to watch them ogling her, or god forbid trying to flirt with her. which is actually kinda common bc they're such a lowkey couple, so people assume she's single

tobirama isn't one to make a scene per se, but this definitely leads to a few awkward situations in public, and she probably ends up embarrassed a few times. and there's 10000% arguments behind closed doors. I don't see either of them being good with this lol. he acts like she's his political enemy he's ridiculous

but because he loves her so much, and he actually really wants to put work into the longevity of their marriage, he'll come around. he's a lot softer and more willing to compromise when it comes to her. but she can't point that out because he's mortified

over time, he chills out a lot more. they're one of those couples that just get stronger and better with time. they grow a lot together, and although they probably continue to disagree a lot throughout their marriage, it's always in a way that leaves their relationship stronger. and he only gets softer for her. people (hashirama) even start to point out how devoted he is and he can't even deny it. cute

overall a kind of difficult husband, because he is an exceptionally difficult man, but my god he loves her so much. he would do anything to make her happy.

#this was so much fun #I HAVE TWO RING FINGERS MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS #naruto #naruto x reader #shisui #shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #shisui uchiha x reader #tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader

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hyewka · 1 year

Note

i was just thinking about this, i might write it, but playing video games with beomgyu and then he just goes down on you (maybe you've got your legs spread, looking at the TV screen through it, and he just can't resist)

yeah my face-sitting/pussy licking in general agenda is wayyy up-

warnings; sloppy head from subbeomgyu, pussy drunk!gyu in general, sorta suffocation, cums in his pants, pup/beomie petname, gyu humps the couch to get off, femdom, non proofread

.ೃ࿐

Beomgyu has your legs hanging off his shoulder, his knuckle turning white the harder his fingers dug onto the plush of your thighs— face practically smothered in your pussy. You found it so cute how eager he was, his mouth desperately sucking onto your clit then going back to hungrily lapping his tongue over your slit, and as much as you’d like to praise him you were focused on the game you took over for Beomgyu.

That was how it started— you suggesting to play after declining his offers for so long, who could blame the boy for being so hyped? After months of his childish taunting, you had finally given in.

It was so innocent how excited he was to play with you, yet with the way he was situated on the floor, his head practically engulfed with your thighs on each side, he just …couldn’t focus on the big screen. Oh how the moment just had to be ruined because of how hot he found it that you were so invested, so genuinely into his beloved hobby.

Your eyes still narrow in focus, thumb spamming any button it could hit, despite Beomgyu getting faster with his tongue, his growing bulge restricted by the tightness of his sweats, rubbing up against the couch to get off the more agitated you got at the game.

“Fuck! What the hell’s up with that guy?!” You got a critical hit, and your thumbs getting faster than ever, working to at the least find a hideout before you actually get eliminated.

While below you, Beomgyu gets worked up, harshly nipping onto your sensitive skin, his nose buried against your clit making you hiss, breaking your attention from the game for a split second as you look down at the boy, a scolding right on the tip of your tongue.

But his eyes were so glossy, lashes tear stained you almost coo’d at how adorable he looked, with his doe eyes looking up at you, so needy, so desperate to eat you out well— your reprimanding words die down quickly.

“Want me to win for you pup?” You ask instead, gently playing with his disheveled hair.

Beomgyu muffles out a moan against your pussy, hips picking up a more patterned pace against the couch, making a mess as he smothers against your slit.

Your hand grabs the back of his head, yanking him off you by the hair and he whines out your name— pain throbbing on his scalp. "Whyyyy..." he whines.

His face is such an erotic sight to you, lips naturally formed into a pout, so red glistening with your juices, spit all over his mouth. God, Beomgyu was such a perfect mess.

He tries to dive back in, mouth slightly opened--prepared, but you keep your grip tight, his head not budging.

You tut at him. "Baby, you know you have to use your words." You still held the console on one hand, but all your attention was on him which gets Beomgyu's poor mind mushy and hazy again as hes quick to nod like he was under a spell, so pathetic and eager. Anything to be between you again, so drunk on your taste.

"Want you to win for me. So bad." You're satisfied, smiling. You let go of his hair, and he barely breathes before he's back in between your legs, his unrefined technique not a bother— the way he flicks his tongue over your clit was just enough to get your legs shaking.

You can tell he's more focused on eating you out as his hips stopped grinding against the couch, busy fucking his tongue into you, poking your sweet spot, making you a little dizzy.

You snap out of the pleasure, finally seeing things turning out good for you. "Shit, shit, I got him! Think I got him, oh my god." Your anxiety heightens as you try to get the final blow, attempting to dodge the weak flings of your opponent, and then...boom. One hit and you won.

You're about to cheer, filled with so much emotion you didn't think you'd feel after winning a silly game, the winner soundtrack playing loud and clear- until you feel Beomgyu wrap his lips around your clit, sucking on it harshly, his pitiful whimpers vibrating against your pussy, making you drop the console to your side, hands gripping his hair tightly as he continues with his kitty licks. "F-fuck Beomie— you're doing so well pup, k-keep going."

He says something but you don't catch it properly, mind too hazed to tangle apart his suppressed words. You gasp when Beomgyu's hand grip on the sides of your hips, pulling you in his face further, your back arching slightly at the newfound sensation of the orgasm you reach when he presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Your chest heaves up and down, hips dropping, pliant. Beomgyu slowly lifts his head up, tongue gently lapping over your folds, taking as much of your cum to clean you up while holding eye contact. You smile down at him, thumb grazing his brows. "My Beomie's so pretty for me, aren't you baby?"

Poor gyu, with a final whimper, came right then and there, in his sweats, completely untouched— the small splotch on his crotch quickly turning into a big patch of wetness— oh how he loves it when you call him pretty <33

#txt smut #sub beomgyu #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #sub!idol #🌷. rana thoughts

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astonmartinii · 1 year

Note

if you’re down to do it i’d love a part 2 to opposites attract with mick 👀

opposites attract part two | mick schumacher social media au

part one

masterlist

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

both beloved and feared in the paddock, y/n y/ln will defend her bf until the end, no matter who it is.

(hope you all enjoy 🫡 i love this pairing)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, mickschumacher and 477,034

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: chat shit, get banged

view all 85,349 comments

user49 so. fucking. iconic

mickschumacher i love you, thank you for defending our family

yourusername always <3

user99 hold on a second... our family??? we engaged?

user53 it's probably just a phrase bestie let's not get too crazy

charles_leclerc i'm so scared of you

yourusername good - you want me to swing at ferrari?

user45 truly the ride or die we all need in our lives

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 882,309 others

mickschumacher: family is everything ❤️

view all 83,012 comments

user49 the fact that he considers y/n family is so so cute

yourusername awww mickey !! i love you guys so much, i'd do anything for y'all xx

gina_schumacher love you all ❤️

mercedesamgf1 family 💜

user23 i'm so glad mick has someone like y/n on his side, not only defending him always but also his family xx

f1wagsupdates

liked by mickschumacher, user45 and 1,089 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln makes her first appearance in the paddock since her incident with the paparazzi. she joined mick in the mercedes garage for the weekend - we're glad she's back !!

view all comments

user33 lmao mick in the likes he's down so bad

user88 finally some good fucking food

user21 ahhhh did y'all see ted fucking flinch when he saw her i'm glad they all know what a bad bitch she is and she'll call anyone's ass out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, jackdoohan and 721,450 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: let's rideeeeee or whatever charli xcx said

view all 112,875 comments

user37 war is over y/n is back in the paddock i missed her so much

mickschumacher gonna make it bring your gf to work day every race from now on

yourusername sounds good to me i love the merc catering so much better than haas

user44 LMAO SHE STILL GOT THE DIG IN

estebanocon omg besties back in the paddock

yourusername este bestie !!!! i've missed you and elena need to do something asap xx

liked by mickschumacher, danielricciardo and 330,671 others

f1: host martin brundle has picked up an illness during the weekend and has chosen y/n y/ln, internet personality and host, to take over his hosting responsibilities on race day 🏁

view all 72,109 comments

user56 i love how they don't mention that she's with mick and that she is a host by trade

mickschumacher i know she'll be the best replacement ever ❤️

yourusername awwww thank you babe xxx

user48 i know this is gonna be the most chaotic grid walk ever

user11 but she'll defo ask the questions we all want to know the answer to cause this ain't her full time job who cares if sky don't like it

danielricciardo can't wait to watch it all unfold

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 541,098 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: what a weekend for the team, but also for us!! my baby made her grid walk debut and killed it xx i love you and am so so proud of you 💘

view all 83,451 comments

user34 will it ever be my turn

user41 i confess - i think i have a parasocial relationship with these two

user78 me and you bestie

estebanocon ahhhh she was great!!

lancestroll as the kids say i think she slayed 💅

yourusername teehee thank you guys

gina_schumacher doing us all proud!!

yourusername ahhh thank you gina 💛

yourusername added to their story

[caption: getting the goods for a certain someone's birthday bash]

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,455 others

yourusername: i didn't know we had this many friends - sorry switzerland 😞

view all 223,078 comments

danielricciardo i'm never going to another party with you I AM SCARRED

maxverstappen1 you have impressive planning skills - are you open for bookings?

mickschumacher thank you very much baby (you can deal with the noise complaints)

sebastianvettel so this is what we could hear

charles_leclerc you guys are weak - i had a great time, thanks y/n and happy birthday mick !!

estebanocon i love you guys but i wish i wasn't so close to you guys how are we still cleaning up ?

yourusername because we need to make sure things are properly recycled @sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel good good (you don't have to impress me i already love you and mick together)

yourusername thank you for the validation seb

mickschumacher LESS TALKING MORE RECYCLING

mickschumacher

liked by gina_schumacher, estebanocon and 1,340,234 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thank you for the best birthday ever babygirl! while the party is something i'll never forget, just being able to spend time with you and the rest of our family was the best thing ever. also prize for best birthday gift ever goes to you for tony the goat, i love him and the fact you got him for and i quote "to remind me of my dad and me in the future". i love you and our growing farm family

view all 301,011 comments

user48 A GOAT FOR HIS BIRTHDAY? TO REMIND HIM OF MICHAEL? FOR MICK BEING THE GOAT IN THR FUTURE? I LOVE THEM

estebanocon can't wait to meet the little guy

yourusername i love you baby - you deserve everything !!! @mercedesamgf1 paddock pass for tony when

mercedesamgf1 happy birthday mick! we're on it 🫡 (admin is scared of you)

user39 omg pls grid walk with tony would be so iconic

charles_leclerc so there was a goat at mick's house i just thought i was really drunk

sebastianvettel welcome to the farm dad life mick - happy birthday x

#f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher x you

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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

Text

munch!

★ pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: waka loves his fiancee. especially when her legs are around his head.

★ content warning: smut, pwp, porn without plot, cute porn though, simp wakasa, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pussydrunk!waka, unprotected sex.

★ a/n: all my juicy bitches wya 😩😩 thought id do some fan service. enjoy!! mwah mwah xo

★ w.c.; 3.8k

mdni! smut beneath the cut

"YOU'RE SO FULL OF SHIT," Keizo hummed. "There's no way you actually, genuinely think that's a good way to live."

Shinichiro shrugged. "I'm just not a fan."

"Fan of what? Eating pussy?" Wakasa chimed in. The three men were lounging in the living room of Shinichiro's apartment, sharing friendly banter. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I like receiving better," Shinichiro retorted.

Wakasa couldn't possibly disagree more. "Just say you're bad at it, Shin."

"Shin, you sound like..." Keizo began. "You sound like one of those guys who just want to be included in the conversation, but you actually have like... no experience whatsoever."

"Eating pussy is so much better than getting blown, man," Waka mused. "I mean really, you're missing out."

"Take it from him," Remarked the largest of the three, who sat back in his chair with his legs spread wide. "He's a devoted munch."

"For enjoying giving my girl pleasure? Alright, dude." Wakasa rolled his eyes. "The way the girls' legs grip your head, the way she squirms... you're telling me you don't eat that up?"

Wakasa had a sort of reputation around these parts, although it wasn't like he didn't have anything to do with it. He adored his queen. His beloved fiance. It was no secret to anyone from one end of Tokyo to the other that she was the apple of his eye, and that he lived to please her to the furthest extent possible. However, in more recent times, he had made a name for himself. The name in question?

"You know what that makes you?" Keizo remarked with a sharp exhale. "A munch."

The two men were seated in the lounge shortly after a meeting. Their coworker and boss, Shinichiro Sano, sat just off to the side of them, watching the exchange with a shit-eating grin.

"What does that even mean?" Wakasa furrowed his brows. Sinking further into the couch, he reached into his vibrating pocket.

Shinichiro decided that now would be the perfect time to chip in with his own two cents. "A munch is, like, the male equivalent of a dickrider, obsessed," he answered, although it wasn't like anyone asked. "Someone who's all up in one girl's pussy – metaphorically and sometimes physically. Like you."

After a brief pause, Wakasa's weary lilac eyes scanned the illuminated text on his screen. "Rather be all up in one girl's pussy than be getting none at all," He retorted, holding the phone up to his ears. The tone of his next few words was virtually unrecognizable from that of his previous statement as he answered the incoming call.

"Hi, pretty baby," He greeted. "How are you?"

From the other end of the receiver, he could almost see the way her face scrunched together when she yawned. She paused, and then in that sultry, soft-spoken voice that drove him wild, she said, "Hi, Daddy."

Shinichiro's eyes widened as he leaned forward in his seat. Although Keizo's surprise wasn't as outward, even he couldn't hide the quiet chuckle that escaped when he dampened his lips with his tongue. Wakasa clutched the phone closer to his ear, turning away from the two men.

"I'm with the guys, baby, behave," he warned her, although his tone remained as soft as ever. "Is something the matter?"

He heard his precious girl sigh on the other side of the phone, followed by a quiet rustling sound. He wondered where she was right now. It sounded like she was in bed. If that was the case, he could already picture her in all of her sculpturesque beauty – tangled in the sheets of their queen-sized bed, heart-shaped lips parted ever so slightly, face dusted with a hue of pink that matched her pretty pink satin jammies. He wondered if, then, she would be wearing his hoodie. Fuck, just the thought of that had him squirming.

"Nothin's the matter, um..." His muse trailed off. He knew she was fiddling with her earlobe, just as she always did when she was deep in thought. "Jus... I jus' miss you."

If it were even possible, Wakasa felt his exterior soften even more. "I miss you too, princess."

"When are you coming home?"

If she asked him like that again – in that quiet, beautiful voice of hers – he would be coming home within the next few minutes, no questions asked. He didn't tell her that, of course. The two of you had spent the entire night indulged entirely in one another. His neck bore the battle scars of such an altercation; two small red hickeys which had been tactically placed by a devious little gremlin without his knowledge.

"Not sure, why?" He asked, fighting off his internal monologue which had memories of last night on replay in the back of his mind. "You need somethin'?"

"No," Was all she said. There was a brief silence, during which Keizo and Shinichiro resumed the conversation they had been having.

He heard her rustling around in the background again – his phone vibrated once, signifying a new message, but he didn't go to answer it – and then she said, "Look at what I sent you."

Wakasa obliged, like the munch he was, and opened the message. It was from her, of course. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected though, was the image that awaited him when he entered the private message with her.

Immediately, he shielded the phone from his friends (who were, in hindsight, far too deeply immersed in their own private conversation about the politics of gender roles and derogatory nicknames to care ). Feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck and the corners of his lips twist into a grin, he fought to regain his composure.

"You took that just now?" He asked, a little more quietly than before. "Have you been waiting for me to come back all morning?"

"Mhm," The girl mumbled proudly. "And when you do come back, that'll be waiting for you."

That was all he needed to hear. Wakasa stood up from the couch and dusted off his shorts. "Be there in 15."

"Kay," you giggled, and that was the last thing he heard before you hung up on him.

Wakasa sighed, pocketing his phone, and then turning back to his two friends. "I gotta bounce," He called, interrupting their conversation to announce his departure. "I'll catch you guys later."

Keizo crossed one leg loosely over the other, throwing his arms along the backside of the couch. "The missus calls?"

The shorter man – who was already reaching for the doorknob – flashed a small grin. "What can I say? I'm like superman."

Shinichiro, who was now against one arm of his loveseat while his legs were thrown over the other, commented on Wakasa's choice of words. "More like Supermunch."

Wakasa ignored his comment, pulling open the door. "Suck me." .

"Oh fuck."

Wakasa groaned in response, although the noise was muffled by her thighs. Buried nose-deep in the world's wettest pussy, his grip was like a vice, strong hands digging into the girl's hips in such a manner that he knew his fingers would leave pretty purple bruises.

His thick, beautiful goddess. He loved everything about her. More than that, he loved eating her out. When he'd run his tongue over the most sensitive part of her, her whole body would twitch. Her hips, painted with stretch marks, were his handles. He adored the way her soft, supple body careened into his touch.

She tasted like heaven, and god, she was gushing for him.

He sucked gently on her clit, which was flushed red with arousal, watching in awe as the woman arched up off of the bed. He could see this show a thousand million times and he would still be just as enthralled as he had been the day he had taken her like this for the very first time. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pretty pink pussy, his tongue found its way down toward her dripping hole.

Leaving not a moment to waste, she gripped his disheveled ponytail by the root, pushing his head in deep enough for the tongue to slide right in – like it was meant to be there.

"Please," His fiancee pleaded, although he wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. She knew full and well that he wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon. "Mnnnh-"

And, just to tease her, he withdrew, replacing his tongue with two damp fingers. "Feel good, sweetheart?" He murmured softly, just up against her red-flushed skin.

While he wasn't answered with words, the response he got was nonetheless gratifying. With a gasp and a desperate rut of her hips against his mouth, against the low vibration of his voice, she sent a message as clear as day.

He made no effort to stop her. Instead, adjusting his hands to grip the meat of her ass, he allowed the beautiful, frenzied girl to shamelessly ride his face. Her hips jumped up and down, rubbing her pretty little clit on his lips and his nose, smearing her juices all over his face. She shuddered, opening her legs even further, and arched into the warm, mushy mess he had created with his mouth.

She looked so fucked out like this, so ruined. Her head was thrown back, hair strewn haphazardly over the satin pillow, pink lips parted gently to make way for her trembling breaths. The little red babydoll she was wearing – what started all of this – complimented the undertones of her skin in such a way that it made his head spin. One of the straps hung loosely off of her shoulder, just barely exposing her breast. She was too much; he wanted to touch everything. To say he was enjoying the view would be an understatement. God, he could paint it if he could – on some Van Gogh shit, but if he were a porn addict.

Her smooth legs clamped shut over his ears. He huffed a satisfied little laugh before prying them apart and continuing to make a ruin out of the poor girl in the open.

Unfortunately, as he was only one man, he had to pull away for some air. He plunged two digits back into her, curling them up against that spot that would make her purr. He knew her body like the back of his hand, having memorized every curve, every crevice. Moving forward to continue lapping at her clit, he tried sucking in more air without having to stop. He never wanted to. He could hardly breathe but, fuck, he wouldn't mind going out like this: squished between his fiancee's thighs, feeling her warm essence drip down his chin while she cried out for him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The way she took his fingers so well, sucking them in and then clenching around them like she never wanted to let go. The way she gasped out his name over and over like a broken mantra. He could feel the heat of his own arousal straining against the seam of his boxers, but he didn't care. Being able to see her like this was more than enough.

With a gasp, he pulled back. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're purring like a kitten for me."

She carded a trembling hand through his hair, taking some of it into her small fist and tugging on it. He arched into the sensation. He loved the pain.

"Please," She begged again.

Though his fingers never stopped, he paused his desperate licking to draw the moment out even longer. An hour wasn't enough. He wanted to be inside of her all day, in perfect tune with the rhythm of her body, every arch, every stutter of her hips spurring him on. He rubbed the point of his index finger over her sweet spot, pulling her apart from the inside. "Use your words, princess."

Judging by the way her walls were beginning to spasm around his fingers, fun time was about to be cut short. He wanted more. No, fuck, he needed more. But honestly, he wasn't so sure that she could take anymore. Her eyes rolled back, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of her mouth a mile a minute while she struggled to hold on.

Deciding she had taken too long to answer, he dove back into her, parting her lips with his nose and then forming a light suction seal over her clit. He had to readjust himself to fit his fingers and his mouth in such a small space.

She felt so good inside, so warm. He could die in this pussy.

His fiancee gasped, "Waka, stop, 'm gonna cum."

His lips departed from the woman's dripping wet cunt, but only to roughly slide her ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding her previous please, he devoured her. His hair was beyond disheveled, tangled in her fist, while the rest hung in damp strands around his face.

He peered up at her hungrily, pulling back and greedily licking her off of his fingers. "Say my name like that again," he'd practically moaned, running his hands up and down your trembling thighs. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf in the breeze and he was reveling in it. "Say my name while you ride my tongue, baby."

"Mmmfuck– wait," She gasped. Her body, however, sent a different signal. She yanked his hair – hard, too – and trapped his head between her thighs. Those pretty little noises she was making increased in pitch and became more frequent within. She was near the breaking point, broken pleas of his name tumbling from her devilish lips. "Wait, wait... Waka, baby."

He wasn't planning on obeying her, moaning against her now abused clit while his lips and tongue alternated applying pressure on it. The pleasure coursing through his veins was enough to drive him wild – fuck, if she kept swallowing him up like that he was gonna cream his pants. She was getting loud and, to be frank, that was turning him on like crazy. He wanted to reach down and palm the ache between his legs, rut his hips down against the bed – anything to release some of the tension that was building between his legs – but he was far too enamored by the sight of her to take any attention away.

Head thrown back, hand gripping his blonde (and purple) tresses like a vice, back arched up off of the bed while that red babydoll dress slipped further off of her shoulders... she was a sight to behold. He never wanted to stop, never wanted her to stop moaning his name. He didn't care if the neighbors heard – hell, the whole building.

His tongue swapped places with his fingers.

The way she was mewling for him like a cat in heat made his heart run wild with desire. She was beautiful, so fucking pretty. She always was. But nothing compared to the way she looked like this, spread open for him like a mouth-watering buffet. He whined, feeling her tug harder at his hair. Her guts were clenching around his tongue like she wanted more. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he got what he wanted from her, so he removed his mouth from the girl's dripping cunt, allowing his fingers to work her open – an obscene mix of her juices and his spit glistening as it ran down his chin. Somehow, he found the strength to utter the words, "I need you to cum for me."

He had power over her at that moment, he knew he did. He had her rocking her hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet release she so desperately craved. When she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep quiet – because she had gotten a bit louder, to say the least – he quickly grabbed her wrists, pinning them down into the mattress. "Let me hear you, baby," He panted. "Let the whole building know who's making you feel good."

And he continued the downright slaughter of your pussy with his mouth this time.

"Daddy," the girl mewled, curling into herself. He'd been edging the poor thing around for far too long. He knew that. He just didn't care enough to stop.

It slipped out. It must have... Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of her core, her lips spilled praise of his name. "Daddy!"

His smirk grew in size. He licked some of her off of his lips, and then hummed, twisting his fingers around. "That's it, princess. Such a good girl for me."

And then he could see something in the girl snap. The coil of her release snapped with all the power of an oncoming freight train, slamming into her in such a way that had her back arching up off of the bed. Her hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while savoring the slow strokes of his long fingers against her gummy walls. He could feel the shock tear through her in waves, ripping trembling gasps from her lungs while she clenched around him.

"Baby," she mewled. "Oh, fuck, baby."

He slid his fingers out of the girl slowly, savoring the way her pretty pussy clenched over his fingers one last time before pulling out. Taking the soaked digits up to his lips, he sucked them clean. God, he would never forget how she looked right now, even if he'd seen it a thousand times before.

"Fuck, I wanna feel you," He shuddered, pushing himself onto his knees and then reaching for his tee shirt. Seeing her cum on his tongue like that was enough to drive him mad, dick straining hard against his pants. His lips found their way to hers in a messy clash of tongue and teeth, slick spreading from his face to hers while juices dripped down his neck. He pulled back, "Wanna feel you so fucking bad it hurts."

His beautiful fiancee sat up with uncalled quickness, small hands grabbing at his wrinkled shirt. That was all he needed to push the girl onto her back, promptly tugging the damp fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. When he turned back around, he caught the way her eyes studied the linework of his tattoos with newfound hunger.

She reached a pretty manicured hand out to rest on his abs, fingers splayed open, roaming the expanse of his ink. She traced the lines down to his abdomen, down to the junction between his hip and his pants – where his v-line was peeking out. He felt himself twitch beneath her touch.

"Don't be a tease," He breathed, although that breathless smile never wavered. He had to make a conscious effort to regulate his breathing. If he didn't restrain himself, god, he didn't even know what he would do to her. He had spent the whole ride over here fantasizing about her, about his pretty girl. He could do so many things, but there was so little time to do them. At least, that's what he'd been thinking before he felt her hand cup his erection through his sweats.

He let out a pent-up gasp that turned into a breathy chuckle. "Ah, fuck."

And then he pulled the girl into another bruising kiss, gripping her ass in his hands and pulling at the flesh like he was tearing into Thanksgiving dinner. Her hand pressed further into his crotch.

She parted from his lips to mumble, "Want you..."

"Yeah?" He breathed. It was getting hard to keep his composure when her hand was palming at him through his pants. His hands slid over her waist and gently cupped her face. "Where do you want me, princess?"

She laid back against the bed, arching her back down. Her legs remained folded against his waist. He quietly observed her, mesmerized by the woman and the way she welcomed him with open legs. Sighing blissfully, he lowered his hand to the warmth between her legs, which had begun to drip

Wordlessly, she brought her legs up onto the table. The man quietly observed her as she did so. He was mesmerized by the girl and the way she welcomed him with open legs. He hummed, lowering his hand to the warmth between her legs. "Right here, baby?" He asked.

Instead of answering, she reached for the waistband of his pants.

He left no time to waste, sliding them down over his hips with a hand at her back and letting her tug his boxers down below his thighs.

Immediately, she pushed her hips back against his, rubbing the head of his cock between her drenched folds. Something in him snapped, or rather, something was about to snap.

"Put it in, Daddy," she whined, and, fuck, when she was getting his cock wet like that he had no right to refuse her. The way she was so desperate even though she just came... he was going to get her pregnant one of these days.

He sighed, adjusting her legs around his waist, running his hands down her stomach – which rose and fell with every ragged breath – to rest on her hips. He let one hand move down towards his dick, wrapping around the leaking tip and then lining it up with her entrance. She was dripping all over him.

Before he could put it in himself, the girl slammed her hips back, sheathing the entirety of his cock in her heat.

"F-Fuck," He gasped, although it came out more like a whine. He let her set the pace at first, sliding back and forth in a way that had his head spinning. Her walls were so wet, so warm, so gummy. Fuck, it felt like he was melting.

Fucking into his dripping-wet fiancee, he couldn't fight the strangled moans that were ripped from the depths of his soul. "Fuck," He whimpered. He slowed down to savor the way her pussy sucked him in, and then pushed him out, and then sucked him in again. It made him dizzy. "Fuck, fuck."

"Mmm," the little devil chuckled. "Feel good?"

"So warm," he panted in response, sounding like a bitch in heat. "Oh fuck, I–" He angled his hips upward, bringing his hand over her cunt to roll his thumb over her clit, relishing in the way she cried for him. "I'm not gonna last long."

He'd never put it in so soon after eating it before. Fuck, the sensation was indescribable. He wanted to die like this – buried eight inches deep in her warm, wet cunt.

"Kay," she giggled. Then she moaned, "I want you to cum inside, okay?"

He knew that if even thought about getting to paint her insides right now he wouldn't last much longer. Hell, this would mark the fifth time he'd done it this week, even if it was only Tuesday. But, shit, whatever the princess wanted?

"Okay, baby."

Princess would get.

a/n: hey heyyyy, I hope you enjoyed it!!! if you liked it, you would loooove my other waka fics which can be found here.

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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showf4lls · 4 months

Text

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

#✩; yours truly #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #ted nivison x reader #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich fic #ted nivison fluff #ted nivison headcanons #slimecicle fluff #charlie slimecicle fluff #charlie slimecicle fic #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #chuckle sandwich x reader

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