#i certainly don't; just hate me and make use of me anyway if I'm useful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaussetteblanche · 6 months

Text

Training with Luke

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : the evolution of luke training you with a sword word count : 1.3k warnings : none

When you had agreed to Luke trying to teach you how to use a sword, this wasn't what you had been expecting at all. You'd warned him about your inability. Many before him had tried to teach you, but you had never managed to even swing the weapon properly. You had come to the conclusion that swords were your mortal enemy and that you would for sure die at the hand of one.

"Pshh, I don't believe that for one second, you just haven't found the right teacher, doll." Luke had scoffed one sunny afternoon, after you'd confided in him your inability to wield his favourite weapon. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder. "Careful, I think your ego may be inflating." He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no, but come on, I'm serious." Luke turned to you, angling his head to the side and giving you a soft smile. "Please let me try to teach you. I won't promise anything, you certainly won't be able to beat me, but maybe you can learn the basics without cutting a finger off." You pursed your lips as you thought. After weighing the pros and cons, you finally conceded with a sigh. "Fine, you and your modesty have convinced me." He rolled his eyes. You continued. "But you have to promise to go easy on me." "I promise, pretty girl."

And that is how you found yourself all geared up and very groggy on this Saturday morning. You wiped some of the sleep out of your eyes and yawned once again. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a golden glow on the arena you both stood in. Luke, who stood a few meters away from you, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why are you so tired anyway?" "Because... I don't know if you remember, but there was a party last night and I-" "Oh, yes, I remember very well. You and Clarisse were on fire, dancing and singing, or should I say shrieking, and pouring everybody more drinks." He chuckled as he remembered the night before, which had only been a few hours ago. He'd been there, of course, he always came to parties, but he'd barely drank anything and had left pretty early. Unlike you. He had claimed he had to train in the morning, and you hadn't realised that had included you until this morning, when he'd come to wake you up. "How dare you. I'll have you know that some Apollo kids have asked me if I'm really sure that I am not one of them, considering my musical talents are extraordinary." You lied, feigning offence. "Yeah, right, that's likely." He snorted. "Anyway, enough chit-chat, get into stance."

You did as you were told, placing one foot ahead and the angling the other slightly outward. Luke circled you, eyes trained to your body. He gently tapped your shoulders, reminding you to keep them straight. You moved them immediately. "Good girl," he praised. You bit back a smile, your stomach flipping.

"Okay, now I'm going to come at you, okay? I'll go easy on you, just like you asked," he smirked. You rolled your eyes at his words, which you knew had an underlying meaning. "Just do it, Castellan." You readied yourself. He nodded once and bolted forward. Before you could register anything or react, you were on the ground with Luke's sword at your neck and a dull pain in your ass. You coughed as dust raised around you. "You know you're supposed to block, right?" he asked, lifting his sword and moving the blade out of your way. He held out his hand, chuckling. "You ass." You took his hand and let him help you up. You rubbed your bum with your free hand. "That was not going easy on me!" "You have to trust me, I really was. If I hadn't I would have done this." Before you could even reply, Luke had kicked your legs out from beneath you and lightly kneeled over your chest, making sure not to hurt you. "I hate you," you spat. "Get off me." You pushed at his legs and sat up. You knew your cheeks were red and you hated yourself for it. You pouted as you looked up at him.

"You see? It's no use. I'm no good with a sword and you can't change that." You folded your arms over your chest, very aware that you probably looked like a disgruntled child. "Darling, don't give up just yet." Luke gently pulled you up by the elbow and picked your sword up off the ground. He wiped some dirt off your cheek. "I'm sorry, that was mean. But don't give up yet! We can still try offence!" You huffed as you took your sword. "Fine. But stop calling me pet names." You didn't actually want him to stop, but if you wanted to take this seriously, he had to stop distracting you.

"If you manage to beat me, I'll stop," he bargained. "That's hardly fair," you sighed as you got into stance and raised your sword. He only shrugged. "C'mon, hit me with your best shot."

Over the weeks, you surprisingly got better at fighting with a sword. You stopped only using your customary bow and arrow and started carrying around a sword, much to the surprise of everyone who knew you. Training with Luke had not only made you better, it had also brought you two closer together. You'd been good friends since you'd arrived at camp, a few months after he did, but you had never spent as much time together as you did now. And such proximity made you question what you felt for him.

You met him one afternoon for training, feeling frustrated. Since you'd got up that morning, everything had gone awry. You'd got assigned shitty chores, had had to break up a fight between two new campers and in the midst had suffered a bird attack. Needless to say, you were looking forward to releasing some anger. But Luke was acting strange.

"Quit going easy on me," you grumbled as you helped him to his feet after knocking him to the ground for the third time. "I'm not going easy on you." He shook his head, frowning slightly. "Yes, you are. Stop it." You glared at him. "I'm not-" You lifted your sword and kicked him in the chest. He didn't even block and fell over once more. You'd never seen his camp shirt so covered in dirt.

"Stop bullshitting me, Castellan." You raised your sword and pointed the blade at his throat. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop," he grumbled. He rolled his eyes and pushed your blade away before lifting his hand for you to take. You slapped his hand with the flat of your blade and pointed your sword back at his neck. He frowned. "You're not getting away that easy." "Hey, doll, c'mon-" "No." He sighed and threw his head back, exposing his neck and the coloured beads hanging from it. Your eyes were drawn to his soft exposed skin but your focused again, clearing your throat. "Come on, get up. By yourself." "You asked for it."

He swung his legs across your ankles, making you yelp and fall to the ground. And before you could reach for your sword which had slipped out of your grasp, he had pinned you down by the wrists. "Am I going easy on ya now, darling?" You grimaced and squirmed but the hold he had on your wrists would not budge. And with him straddling your hips, you couldn't move your legs. You looked up at him and saw the coloured beads you knew so well swinging above your face. You swallowed. "No, you're not." "Are you happy?" "I'll be happy when you stop being such a smug ass, Castellan." His laughter was music to your ears.

#percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n

1K notes · View notes

velvetures · 10 months

Text

Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

3K notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 4 months

Note

Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?

Stubborn

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...

"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.

"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.

"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.

"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.

Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.

You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.

You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.

You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.

He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.

"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.

"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.

"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.

Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.

You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.

"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.

"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.

"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.

Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.

"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.

"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.

"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.

Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"

You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.

"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."

"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.

"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.

You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.

"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."

"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.

"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"

"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.

You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.

"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"

"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.

"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.

She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.

"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.

"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.

"I think that's a good idea." She replied.

"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.

"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.

"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.

"Want me to come with you?" She asked.

"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.

She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.

"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.

Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.

He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.

You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.

But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.

You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.

You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.

"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.

He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.

"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.

"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.

He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.

You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.

"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.

"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"

You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.

He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.

"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.

"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.

"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.

"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.

"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.

"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.

He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.

"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.

"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.

"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.

"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.

"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.

He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.

You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.

"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.

"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.

He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.

"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."

"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.

"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark.

"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."

"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."

His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.

"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.

The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.

He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.

Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.

It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.

"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.

"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.

"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"

He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.

"I'm not-"

"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.

"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.

He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.

He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.

Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.

"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.

Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.

You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.

"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.

"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."

He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.

He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.

"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.

He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.

"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.

You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.

He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.

"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.

"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.

His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.

"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.

The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.

"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.

"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.

"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.

"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.

"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."

You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."

Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.

You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.

You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."

"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.

It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.

He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.

He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.

You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.

Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.

"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.

He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.

"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.

"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.

"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.

"I'm getting there," you sighed.

He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.

His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.

You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.

"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"

You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.

You were definitely going to fight with him more often…

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #cami o'connell #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

363 notes · View notes

muchosbesitos · 5 months

Text

protector

*fic was inspired by body - @baka-bakeneko *

pairing: bodyguard toji fushiguro x spoiled fem reader

contents: smoking, jealousy, assumptions to arranged marriage, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), missionary, and doggy

author’s note: he needa eat me out like that fish anyways, this is like the first fic i’ve written of him but this man hasn’t left my brain since i’ve finished watching it 🫠

word count: 6k

Your father owned a tech company in japan that had recently blown up, which was enough reason for him to assign a bodyguard for you. A part of you felt like he was trying to assign the responsibility of raising you to someone else, but who could really complain when you were getting spoiled beyond belief? He'd spoken to you about how your behavior was affecting his public image, how your countless nights of going out to clubs and getting drunk were painting him in the media as a irresponsible parent before outright just assigning a babysitter to you.

"Come on, you don't have to follow me around. I won't tell my dad that you're not doing it," you pleaded to the man in front of you, jutting out your bottom lip into a pout. "Shut it princess. I’m following you around, I don't care if you like it or not," he kept a stone cold gaze as he talked to you, no hint of emotion in the way that he spoke. You weren't used to being told 'no' so you took it as a challenge to change his mind. "Come on, pretty please. I'll do anything," you offered him suggestively, your hand trailing his abs through the skin-tight compression shirt he had on. You weren't planning on doing anything with him, but you were planning that your actions would be seducing enough to entice him in giving up.

In just a few seconds you went from standing in front of him to being pinned against the wall beneath him. Your hands were above your head as he looked down at you, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "What would your little daddy say if he saw you being such a slut for the bodyguard?" He spoke just low enough for you to hear, his eyes boring into you. Your eyes widened slightly as you met his gaze, your throat bobbing at the switch in position. You were used to being the one wielding all the power, never having to subject yourself to being at the mercy of anyone else. "Rich brats are all the same. So used to getting what you want, hm? Well, not with me princess. I'm following you around," he told you firmly, letting go of your arms once he made sure his point was made.

You stayed in the same spot, dumbfounded at what you were currently feeling. You would've never thought that having someone above you could make you feel this way, feel so aroused and over basically nothing. You'd been the dominant in most of your relationships, demanding things and getting them served to your feet like the little princess you were. But you couldn't deny yourself that this power switch was enticing to say the least, the way that he managed to shut you up just by holding you in his grasp. While you still hated the idea of having a babysitter looking after every thing you did, you also couldn't deny yourself the simple fact that the man was attractive. His green eyes were something you could easily get lost in if you looked at him long enough and his muscles looked like they could break anyone with ease.

Toji couldn't hate this job any more if he tried, just the fact that his abilities were diminished just to protect a spoiled brat like you infuriating him. Though, even he couldn't deny that the pay was much more than he expected. Certainly better than hopelessly betting on boating races. While you annoyed him beyond belief with the way you just had to point your manicured finger at something to get it, he also couldn't deny that a part of him was enticed by the way that you acted. The way you pouted at him to take your shopping bags whenever he followed you at the mall, the little fashion shows that you had when you thought he wasn't watching, and the way you stole little glances at him when you thought he wasn't looking.

Toji had managed to keep you out of trouble during the following months, mostly because he just simply refused to take you out whenever you asked. "Can't you get off your ass and do your damn job for once?!" You snapped at him out of frustration, since you had taken about two hours to get ready and he was refusing to take you out to the nightclub your friends were at. "If you want to go so bad, go alone," he responded, his legs spread on the couch as he leaned his head back to get a good look at you. While the idea was compelling, your father had already threatened to take your allowance if you were photographed trashed out on the street again.

You stomped your foot angrily and glared at him, like your little temper tantrum would do anything to change his mind. You were only met with a laugh in response, the sound making you even more annoyed if possible. "You know my dad won't like it if I go out alone, c'mon. I got all pretty and stuff," you pleaded with him, your voice on the verge of becoming a whine if you kept this up. "Keep begging and maybe I’ll repent, princess," he told you with a smirk, that in itself telling you that he wasn't changing his mind anytime soon. You stomped your feet on the way upstairs for emphasis, his laughter mocking you on the way up to your bedroom. Well, at least you managed to get some cute pictures to post later on.

You ended up ordering yourself some wings for the night after changing into your pajamas, glaring at Toji as you sat down on the couch next to him. "Don't tell me you're still mad princess," he mused, looking over at you with a cocky grin on his face. You didn't bother giving into the bait, simply dipping your wing into some ranch before biting into it. "The silent treatment? And here I thought that was beneath you," he kept his gaze on you as he spoke, reaching over to grab one of your wings. You smacked his hand away but he didn't let that deter him, laughing as he managed to get the wing off your plate. "First you don't do your job and now you're stealing my food?" You grumbled, grabbing the tv remote from in between you and clicking through the movie options available.

"Ah. You're still mad about that. Don't you think sharing wings with me is more fun than getting shit faced?" He retorted, dipping the stolen wing into some of your ranch. You hated to admit it, especially to yourself, but you actually found yourself growing comfortable whenever you spent time with him. With your friends, you'd mostly set that persona of being the rich spoiled brat that makes every scenario fun and dramatic. But with the big guy next to you, you didn't feel the need to have to pretend something you weren't. Not when he saw almost every aspect of your life anyways. Though he called you 'little brat' and stuff amongst those lines, you could tell that he saw you as something more than that.

You weren't sure when you fell asleep, the sound of the tv a faint melody playing in the background. The plate of wings that was resting on your legs wasn't there anymore, rather.. something hard underneath you. Your eyes opened to see that Toji had his arms wrapped around you, a blanket tossed over the two of you as he slept. You probably should've gotten up at that moment, gone to your own bed and pretended that this never moment. But.. his arms felt too comforting for you to want to leave. The feeling of his body warmth felt better than the fuzzy blanket on top of you, your body craving just to be held by him. He fit alongside you like the missing piece of a puzzle. You laid against him once more, your eyes fluttering shut as sleep started to wash over you.

Your father had called you into his office the next morning, something he didn't bother to do after the business had expanded. He used to call you to come over so you'd learn the ropes for when he'd leave the company behind, but after he managed to get more people in his company board, he'd abandoned that completely. You stuck out like a sore thumb as you walked into the building, most of the workers in a combination of beige, white, and black while you had a pink skirt and white top with pearls adorning your neck. "He's waiting for you," the secretary told you as you approached the desk, handing you a visitor's badge.

Your heels clacked along the marble floors as you walked into your father's office, expecting to find him alone. Rather, you were met with two men in suits standing next to your father. "Come in, don't be shy," your father motioned for you to come over, putting on the caring facade he always did when someone was close. You tentatively walked over, introducing yourself to the men and shaking their hands. You felt a sense of disgust fill your body when the younger of the men looked at you with a predatory gaze, his stare too hungry for your liking. You wiped your hand on the side of your skirt when nobody was looking, waiting for your father to announce the reason you were here.

"So this is Mr. Ishihara. He runs a successful software protection company that's in more than 15 countries by now. And we plan on merging our business together," your father started off, your brows knitting together in confusion. While you could recognize that the idea had a lot of potential, you weren't sure why exactly he was telling you these details. "We've discussed about this merger, and we believe that the best way for us to go along this is if you get married to his son. I know I'm springing this on you all of a sudden which is why I reserved some spots at a restaurant for the two of you to get an opportunity to know each other," your father elaborated, making your stomach drop at his words.

You weren't sure what exactly it was you were expecting out of this business meeting, but you certainly weren't expecting to be used as a chess piece for your father's plans. "So what? You just plan on using me to your disposal?" You asked him once the two men left his office, your voice low enough so nobody outside would overhear. Though, you wanted everybody to hear just how angry you were at the prospect and yet all you could do was just silently seethe. "Don't start with me now. Think about who funds your little shopping sprees and who funds practically everything in your life before you speak to me like that again," his voice was stern as he spoke to you, his gaze no longer on you but on a document his assistant brought over. That managed to shut you up for the time being despite the fact that you wanted to keep yelling at him until he changed his mind.

You'd gotten back home a couple minutes later, having a mini breakdown in your car before you walked up the stairs to your penthouse. You were surprised to see that Toji wasn't around anywhere, not lounging around on the sofa or making himself something to eat. You searched for him around the house since his car was still parked outside, unsure of why you were so concerned about what he was up to. a part of you just wanted something to remain stoic for the time being, his presence being able to provide just that while another part of you just wanted to be next to him despite the fact that he only seemed to tolerate you out of duty.

"Do you mind if I join?" You asked, stepping out into the balcony where you welcomed by the scent of the blunt he was smoking. "Thought good girls like you don't smoke," he retorted, passing you the blunt as he turned to look over you. "Half the rich does cocaine, so what's the harm?" You uttered, taking a hit from the blunt and holding the smoke in your lungs for a couple seconds before exhaling. "Yeah, but you're not like the other rich folk. What's up, little brat?" He asked once you handed the blunt back to him, holding it in his hand before taking a hit from it.

You weren't sure if was just the stress that you were under or whether you found him particularly irresistible during this moment, but you leaned in to kiss him after he'd taken a hit. The smoke in his lungs went into your mouth as your lips pressed against his, your tongue exploring every inch of his mouth in a fervor. If any photographer was walking by at the moment, they would've been able to see you in plain view as you kissed your bodyguard. But you couldn't find it in you to care about maintaining your image, not when the combination of his lips and the weed was intoxicating you beyond belief. You pulled away, exhaling the smoke that had been in his mouth before coughing.

Toji blinked slowly as he tried to regain his composure from the kiss, the taste of your lips almost taking him off balance. He'd had plenty of experience with other women before, but none of them felt the same way that you did. He let out a small chuckle when he heard your coughing fit, handing you a bottle of water he'd brought for himself just in case. "My dad wants to marry me off to some guy I don't even know because he says it'll be good for business," you told him once you finished coughing, leaning against the balcony as you watched him exhale the smoke in an 'o' shape after taking another hit. It was hard for him to pretend like he didn't want to kiss you again, like he already didn't miss the feeling of your lips despite it only being mere seconds.

"So if you don't like it, don't go through with it. You're a grown woman who can make her own decisions," he told you as he turned to face you, his attention now solely resting on you. "It's not that simple, you know? He's the whole reason i even have anything," you let out a small sigh as you spoke, the situation becoming crystal clear to you now. "You're just a puppet for your daddy, is that it? Because if you really wanted to, you could put that marketing degree of yours to use," he responded, the words lingering in the air along with the smoke from the blunt. You decided to just share the blunt with him in silence, ignoring the way that looked at you through the corner of his eye.

The kiss was nothing more than a fleeting moment, something that neither you or Toji wanted to bring up for discussion first. Nothing about the process of getting ready for the dinner date excited you, not even the new heels from Chanel that you'd be wearing. You assured yourself that you'd probably just end up ghosting him after this dinner date, that the marriage wasn't something that was actually taking place. If things came to the worst, you'd probably just take Toji's advice and start a career in something to do with marketing. Though you weren't sure if you could get accustomed to living humbly after getting the sweet taste of what living luxuriously meant, but that seemed like the better option than getting married to someone you'd be unhappy with until he croaked or ended up asking for a divorce.

"Do you mind putting this on me?" You asked Toji once you stepped downstairs, holding a gold pendant in your hands with a ruby in the middle. His hands did quick work of putting the necklace on you, his eyes lingering on the way that the dress managed to fit your curves to perfection. "You're going through with this, little brat?" He asked you, despite knowing the answer as he grabbed his coat from the hanger. "If the dinner date ends up badly, I'll just order in wings for the two of us to eat again," you told him, grabbing his hand once he'd extended it to you. His hand felt like the perfect fit against yours, slightly bigger but it curled around you like it was something meant to be. He opened up the door for you before getting inside the car, starting to drive to the restaurant.

Upon sitting down at the restaurant, you could already tell that this was going to be one of the hardest dates to go through. Toji was sitting down from the table across from you, pretending like he wasn't listening to every word that came out of your mouth. "And maybe if you're interested, we can take a boat ride on my 10 million yacht. I got Tyler the Creator to perform on it once," your date, Kei, spoke as you tried to keep your focus on what he was telling you. Truth was, no matter how hard you willed yourself to try to pay attention to him, your mind always kept going to other things. Such as, how good Toji looked like in comparison to your date. He was manspreading at the table, lazily flipping through the menu as he rolled his eyes. Presumably at the 'extra fuckin' shit' as he could call it.

"Are you listening to me?" Kei asked you after a while, surely getting bored of his own voice after speaking about his money for 15 minutes straight. "Mhm," you responded, despite the fact that you were looking at the fork in your hand wondering if you could get away with sticking it in your eye to get away from this date. You settled on just putting the fork down into the pasta that you'd ordered, taking a bite out of it as he continued to talk about what summer plans he had. You looked up from your plate to see Toji scowling at the two of you, his right eye twitching at the sight of seeing you actually interacting with him. Though you didn't have any interest in the in front of you, you figured you could at least make toji jealous.

"That's sooo interesting. I can't believe you have that," you added in after Kei talked about one of his cars, the beaming smile that he gave you only making you want to leave this dinner even faster. The words you were telling him were only fueling to his narcissism, his speech starting to become even faster now that you'd displayed an interest into what he's talking about. you tried not to laugh as you looked over at Toji, his fists curled up in a ball before his eyes met yours. He broke eye contact first, coughing into his arm before looking away from the sight. You forced yourself to look away from him and back at the man in front of you, adding in a couple 'ooh's' and 'ah's' to maintain the illusion that you were paying attention.

"I hope to see you soon, chérie. I really liked this date," Kei told you as the two of you walked out the restaurant, his hand grabbing yours before he pressed a kiss on it. You simply nodded along, walking with toji back to the car. "Like hell you will," he grumbled to himself, just loudly enough for you to make out if you really tried. You decided not to address it, choosing to add more fire to the flame. "I don't know, I think he's a very sweet guy. Huge collection of Lamborghinis and stuff," you simply said as Toji pulled out the parking lot, the look on his face telling you that your tactics were working. The two of you sat in silence once he turned on the radio, the song filling up the air as he started the drive back home.

He'd managed to keep his composure throughout the duration of the elevator ride but as soon as the two reached your penthouse, he picked you up and tossed you over his back like you weighed nothing. "Let me go, you asshole!" You exclaimed, your fists hitting his back despite the fact it felt like nothing more than a tap to him. A smack to your ass stopped your movements, your hands falling to your sides before you were suddenly dropped down on your king bed. Toji was on top of you, his lips hovering above yours before you leaned into seal the kiss. your fingers wrapped themselves in his hair, pulling him even closer to you before his lips went down to your neck and collarbone.

"Don't leave me with too many marks," you whispered, the grip on his hair tightening as you felt him bite down into your collarbone. "I'll leave you with as many marks as I want. See if that asshole will be so happy to see you again," he responded, his lips now attaching themselves to your neck as he kissed on every inch of skin exposed to him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as a way to close the gap between the two of you, a small giggle escaping from your lips when you felt him pressing down on a particular spot in the back of your neck. "I'll take advantage of that later," he murmured, his lips coming back to your own to mark what he'd specifically been longing for after this evening.

He started unzipping your skirt before eventually losing his patience, the zipper flying across the room. "I'll get a new one for you," he murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss on your inner thigh. "That was a Louis Vuitton skirt," you grumbled, the sound turning into a small moan as you felt his teeth sink into your thigh the slightest bit. "Then your daddy can get it for you," he told you, his lips moving to where you needed him the most before he pulled away suddenly. "What was that for?!" you complained, sitting up to see what his problem was. He pressed his palm on your stomach to keep you down, a smirk on his face as he looked over at you. "I want you to beg for it, little brat."

"I don't know how," you whined, wiggling your legs just to feel him touch you again. You were telling him the truth, all you had to do was just ask to get what you wanted, the situation never resorting to a position where you had to beg. "Come on princess, I'm sure you'll get it if you try hard enough," he teased you, his mouth lingering over your clothed pussy. "Please, I just need your mouth on me," you croaked out, doing your best to invoke your feelings into what you were begging for. "You already have my mouth on you, pretty mama. Be more specific," he responded, keeping his head where it was as he continued to tease you. "Please, just eat me out! I need your tongue inside me so bad!"

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He cooed down at you, taking off your panties in one swift motion before getting in between your legs. "Always knew you had such a pretty cunt underneath those little skirts," he whispered to himself, pressing kisses on your inner thighs before he moved on to your folds. His tongue collected the slick that had been leaking out of you, his head moving from side to side as he ravaged your folds like a man starved. He was messy with the way that he ate you out, solely working off his own desperation and your own. He stuck his tongue inside of you, the muscle exploring every inch that your cunt had to offer him until he found your g-spot.

Your hand came down to his head as he started thrusting his tongue in and out of you, your slick visible on his lips and his chin every time he pulled it out. He moaned out into your cunt as you continued to leak around him, the vibrations going straight through to you. You couldn't keep quiet with each one of his ministrations, the feeling of his tongue sending you towards the edge of bliss. Your hips thrusted to meet the speed of his tongue, needing some kind of friction with the stimulation that you were getting. You pushed his head forward just to feel him all that much closer to you, your nails practically digging into his scalp with each suck and swipe of his mouth.

He pulled his tongue out of your cunt and slid two fingers inside with ease, his mouth attaching itself to your clit as he swirled his tongue around the nub. His fingers curled up in a 'come here' motion, the angle allowing him to stimulate your g-spot at the same time. Your legs shook underneath him as you felt the knot inside you getting closer and closer to snapping, your mouth parted. "Don't come yet. Hold it in for me ma," you could barely make out what he said as he continued to suck on your clit, the prospect of having to wait too long making you nervous. You weren't sure how long you could fend off your impending orgasm, his fingers stretching you out with every movement that he made.

"I can't hold it in anymore. Please let me cum," you whined, your voice high pitched as you felt yourself getting dangerously close to teetering off the edge. "Okay, cum," he whispered, the knot inside you unraveling as your release coated his fingers. He pulled away, bringing his fingers up to his mouth as he sucked the essence lingering on them. He brought his head back to your cunt, cleaning off any excess that he might've missed with his fingers. You felt yourself growing overstimulated when his tongue went inside your cunt once more, your hand tapping on his shoulder to get him to back off. He did as obliged, pulling away only to take off his own clothing.

If you thought looking at him in a compression shirt was a blessing to earth, seeing him shirtless was more enticing. You could make out every ridge of his body, the way that his muscles flexed with every movement as he unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of his clothed cock, his dick practically straining against the material of his boxers. His dick slapped against his stomach as he took it out of its confines, already hard just from eating you out. you got on your knees, albeit a bit nervously given the size of him. "You can take it mama. I know you can please me," he told you after seeing the look on your face, placing his hand on the back of your head. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to prove him right and please him.

You started off by licking the reddened tip, Toji’s muscles already starting to tense underneath you. Your tongue swirled around it tentatively, almost as a way of exploring his body now that you had him. He let out a small moan when you opened your mouth to start sucking on the cockhead, your tongue swirling underneath his length. You slowly started to make your way down his length, letting your mouth get used to the intrusion before you went ahead and did anything drastic. Your cheeks hollowed in an attempt to make this easier for yourself, taking in more and more of his cock once your mouth didn't feel so restricted. You started bobbing your head up and down his length, your tongue running around the couple veins adorning the sides.

Your nose was pressed up against his neatly trimmed pubic hairs, the tip of his cock touching your uvula. You felt your eyes start to water, pulling away with a 'pop' before you went back to sucking him the way you were. You spat down his length just to make things easier for the both of you, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock as your mouth sucked on the tip. "So close," his voice came out in a shaky moan as he alerted you of his orgasm, his legs starting to tremble slightly. He tapped you on the shoulder to get you to get off before he came, but you kept your mouth and swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock. Spurts of cum landed on your tongue a couple seconds later, some of it dripping down from the corner of your mouth as you swallowed it.

Your legs were practically up to your chest as he pushed his cock inch by inch inside of you. Though the process didn't hurt too badly from your prior orgasm, you still felt yourself getting filled to the brim with every inch that he kept pushing in. "Stop, stop. I can't take it," you looked up at him as you spoke, the girth of his cock feeling like it was splitting you apart. He stopped his movements and let you get adjusted to the inches that he'd put in before starting the process over until he bottomed out. You let out a gasp when he retracted and pushed himself back in, your hands gripping his arms.

"Tell me ma. You think that silver spoon kid could fuck you the way I’m doing right now? Get you so dumb off cock like I am?" You wanted to say something to defy his statement but all you could let out was a pathetic mewl as he fucked into you relentlessly. He'd sped up the pace when you got adjusted properly, his balls slapping against your cunt shamelessly with every thrust that he took. "Who's the only one that can fuck you like this?" He asked, looking down at you as his hands gripped your thighs. You could tell just from the way he was holding you that you might have some bruising tomorrow, but you didn't care. Not with the way that he was fucking into you. With such desperation just to show you who you belong to.

"Silver spoon could fuck me like this too," you spat out, trying to get him even more jealous if that was even possible. You arched your back and let out a moan as his cock thrusted into you deeper, his grip on your thighs getting tighter. "What'd you say?" He inquired, holding your cheeks together with one hand as he fucked into you. "Nothing! Just don't stop, making me feel so good," you retracted your words in an instant when you felt his thrusts start to falter on purpose. You wished you could've said something back to him if only just to get rid of the smirk on his face, but you couldn't think about anything else other than how good his cock felt stretching you out to the brim.

"Maybe I should fuck a kid into you, little brat. Show that fucker that he can't have you anymore," he murmured as he felt your cunt clench around him, gripping around him with every movement that he made. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing circles on the nub and flicking it just to get you that much closer to your orgasm. You felt his cock hit your g-spot, a loud moan erupting from your chest at both of the spots getting stimulated. "Oh fuck Toji! Right there," you whined out, this orgasm feeling much different than the one you'd had earlier. He pulled out of you, your juices squirting out of you immediately as they leaked down your legs, his stomach, down to the sheets.

He flipped you over to your stomach, your back arching instinctively as his hands went to your hips. Your walls enveloped his cock perfectly as he slipped in, gripping him like a vice. One of his hands slapped across your ass cheek, the fat jiggling underneath him. "If you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked. You didn't have to make me jealous, doll," he told you, his hand slapping across your once more before his hips snapped into yours. The grip that he had on your hips intensified, holding you tightly as he continued to use you as his personal fleshlight. His thrusts grew more relentless, the room filled with the smell of your combined orgasms and the sounds of your ass meeting his cock.

Your orgasm approached you quickly after the sensitivity from the prior one, your walls clenching around him tightly and your juices soaking him completely once you unclenched. You felt his thrusts start to get sloppier and less methodical, a sign that he was close to his orgasm too. "Please give it to me! Need you to fuck your cum into me," you moaned at him, turning your head to look back at him. "So pretty when you beg, little brat. It suits you," his voice came out strained, ropes of cum shooting inside you. He pulled out slowly, his head in between your legs to clean up any of the cum that was dripping down your thighs. You felt your breath catch in your throat as he licked a stripe up your folds before delivering a small smack on your ass.

You wouldn't have taken Toji for the kind of guy to take care of you after sex, but he'd started up a bath for you while you were coming down from your orgasm. "You need help gettin' up?" He asked, carrying you into his arms before you got the chance to respond. His arms flexed slightly underneath you as he guided you into the bathroom, setting you down in the lukewarm water. He grabbed one of your bath bombs, putting it into the water to dissolve before getting in with you. He sat down behind you, his hands rubbing small circles on your thighs as the water eased the ache in your legs. "Made for taking this cock," he murmured, your back resting against his chest. "So romantic."

"For you, always," he retorted, helping you up once the aroma of the bath bomb faded away. He made sure to drain the water before you had the chance to, having everything to ease your comfort at the moment. He ran a washcloth across your skin, making sure to clean up every crevice. There was nothing seductive about the way he was touching, simply a form for him to show the affection he felt towards you. You returned the gesture, running a warm washcloth over his back before handing it back to him. He stayed under the water for as long as you needed to, occasionally giving you a small kiss on the cheek.

You took the opportunity to look at yourself in the mirror once he was finished cleaning you up, letting out a small wince at the amount of hickeys and bite marks littered on your neck and chest. You glared at Toji as he came over, wrapping his arms around your stomach from behind. "Don't look at me like that mama. You know I had to show them who fucks you this good," he whispered, his head resting on the crook of your shoulder. "I look like I got attacked by a damn vampire," you grumbled, the marks already starting to darken to a shade of purplish-red. Your anger wasn't too serious, you knew that you could cover it up if you needed to but it was entertaining to get his reaction. "Least he'll get the point now. If not, I'll just fuck you again."

#muchosbesitos #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk #jjk smut #smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk season 2 #jujutsu kaisen

557 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 6 months

Text

A Moody Witch Makes a Moody Morning - [HS Challenge]

Summary: A lazy Sunday with a very temperamental witch suddenly turns upside down.

Warnings: Fluff hours, an attempt at comedy, emo!Wanda being jealous and cute. | Words: 756.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Holiday Season Masterlist

-&-

Lazy Sundays were your favorite.

Especially in a routine divided between being a superhero and a university student, with the bonus of a temperamental emo witch girlfriend who much of the time stressed about things that had nothing to do with you but ended up being your fault.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially when you had Wanda in tender moments like these - almost asleep side by side, just enjoying each other's company in silence. Wanda, focused on a magic book and you playing some of the strange games Pietro bought you for your birthday.

And with the good Maximoff temperament never failing to change, Wanda suddenly pinched your ribs.

"Hey, what was that for?" You mumbled in a confused laugh, pausing the game and looking at your girlfriend pouting.

"I just remembered last week."

Still massaging the site of the pinch, your confused expression increased. "Can you clarify, my love?"

She huffed incredulously, crossing her arms. The long-forgotten book in her lap. "You're such a cynic!" Accused the girl. " I saw you all secretive with that bitch from your classroom, I'm warning you Y/N, if you ever even think about cheating on me, I'll use the whole list of tortures Nathasha taught me-"

"Wanda, for God's sake." You broke into a long laughter, completely surprised by the sudden subject. She huffed angrily, her pout even bigger. "Hey, princess, look at me."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"You do, huh? Then why do you always get flushed?" You challenge back, smiling at her attempt to hide her own blush.

Wanda refuses to look at you, however, and you sigh before losing getting tired of the drama and leaning towards her. She reacts immediately, her hands on your shoulders to push you away, but the witch forgets about the comforter entwined around your legs from the night before - her own requirement to sleep cuddled up let it be noted - and when she pushes you onto the floor cushions, she is pulled into her own trap with you.

Your reaction is to burst out laughing, of course; but Wanda is torn between mortification and blind rage.

Until she sniffles softly into your collarbone and you stop laughing immediately, one of her hands going to stroke your back.

"Hey, my love, what's wrong?" You ask worriedly.

Wanda hides her face in your neck, and her voice is muffled by your skin as she tearfully retorts: "I'm a jealous mess, you should find someone who isn't completely insane."

"Wanda, don't be so hard on yourself, these situations are always entertaining." You joke, but she bites your skin hard and you grunt loudly. "Ouch!"

The most apologies you get is a hickey in the same place.

"Are you done?" You ask, not about the affections but about the whole scene. Wanda nods softly, and you kiss the top of her head, tightening your arms around her.

The cushions are no bed, but they certainly have their unique comfort with the help of the room's fluffy carpet. You're about to fall asleep when Wanda whispers softly.

"My period is late."

You sigh, without opening your eyes. "Good thing I don't have a cock. Not a real one, anyway."

She pinches you again. "You idiot, I'm just trying to say-"

"That you're PMSing, yes, it's obvious. There's no need to keep attacking me." You grumble, but Wanda snorts angrily, pulling away to sit down.

"It's amazing how you can't listen to what I'm saying."

You open your eyes in offense, ready to defend yourself to the blushing girl in front of you. Wait, blushing?

"What are you saying?" You ask worriedly, but your girlfriend grows shy, avoiding your gaze. "Wanda." You insist and instead of answering, she suddenly grabs your wrist. "What...?"

Guiding your hand under her oversized shirt is enough of a hint, but it still makes you laugh heartily. "Jesus, woman, you could have just said you wanted to fuck, you don't need all of that!"

Wanda snorts in embarrassment and pushes your hand away. "You know what, I'll take care of it myself." She stands up, ignoring your protests, and definitely using a bit of magic to torment you and cause the comforters to become harder to get out of. That, or maybe just the insinuation of Wanda playing by herself turns you into a complete mess.

"B-but I want to help-"

"You missed your chance. Good morning to you."

"Wanda!" But she slammed the bedroom door in your face. You chuckled in disbelief.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel fics #holiday season challenge #holiday season fics

517 notes · View notes

lotusarchon · 14 days

Text

loverboy(s) (sun wukong + macaque x reader

content warnings: reader is IMPLIED female, second pov (you/your), foul language, minor threats, mini headcanon for macaque

author notes: to that one anon, happy birthday! i apologize for taking forever but i hope you liked this! its a bit funny seeing a few people who share the same birth month as myself (my fave lesbian genshin impact writer also shares the same birth month with me YAYY). i hope you had a wonderful day today, nonnie <3

“I told you. The cake goes on that side, fucking dumbass.”

“Who the FUCK are you calling dumbass? No, no no, come here. Come here and face me, you snarky little bitch. Come over here right now and tell me to my face I'm a dumbass. You wanna lose your other eye, huh? You want me to beat the shit out of you, is that it!?”

You mentally sigh as the monkey turns away, obviously not in the mood to actually pick a fight. Of course, it could also be because MK had begged the two monkeys to just get along if only for today, just for your sake, which, you won't lie, you did appreciate the sentiment but …

Holy fuck they hated each other's guts.

You won't deny being surprised that they had bothered to show up. MK had insisted you hold a party for your special day, and well. You can't exactly say no to the most stubborn person you'll ever meet. You'd think the party would be small and mainly of the Monkie Kid crew, but god no.

That noodle boy invited everyone he knew.

And I mean, everyone. Even the little Bai He was here, playing with Mo.

And of course, the Great Sage Equal To Heaven and the amazing Six Eared Macaque too.

You almost contemplated making a run for it when Macaque approached you, but Pigsy gave you such a scolding to not break MK's fragile heart (pft), and so, you were trapped in a social conversation.

(Oh, the horrors.)

“Nice party you have here.”

“Thanks.”

…

Yeah, I forgot to mention; you two suck at making a good conversation. Well, not so much you than Macaque mainly, who tried, you know, he really does, but inevitably just sucks.

But that's fine. Macaque's quiet most of the time and it's a little comforting. You don't like speaking much anyway, so it works out for the both of you. A bit.

You can't say the same for Wukong though. He's…well. He's certainly very outgoing. The minute he shows up he goes straight for the food (Pigsy is not gonna be happy about that), and then he finds his way to you as well.

“Hey there birthday girl.” Wukong gently pinches your cheek. He smiles warmly, and you can't help but return his smile with your own. “Nice party you've got going on. How come you didn't invite me yourself, mmh? Too shy to meet the awesome Great Sage?”

Before you can reply, Macaque scoffs, “MK invited most of us, don't be an ass.”

Wukong sighs. He glances at his ‘friend’ for a minute, and glances back at you.

“I can't believe MK invited him.”

“I'm allowed to be where I want, thanks.”

“Uh huh. I call dibs on the cake, by the way.”

“It's not your cake you fucking dick.”

“Blah blah, me and (Name) can't hear you.” Wukong turns with you in his arms, guiding you in the opposite direction of where Macaque broods. You wave at Macaque before allowing Wukong to take you…god alone knows where, and he pats your head affectionately. “Sorry about that. Still, happy birthday (Name)! I got you something!”

He releases his hold on you, and you give him a look.

“Is it made out of hair?” You demand, watching as he pouts and looks offended.

“Hey! Not everything I have is made from hair!” He protests, but you can definitely see the way his eyes dart away―he most definitely did, in fact, contemplate giving you a gift made of hair. You loved the guy but….you really had to question how his head works sometimes.

Well. At least you don't have to worry about hair strands all over your room…

“Is it a peach?”

Wukong groans. “(Name), could you have a little faith in me?”

You look him dead in the eye, and answer gently, “Absolutely not.”

“Rude. But fair. And no, it's not a peach. Those are my specialties.”

A pause.

“And I also ate them on my way here.”

You sigh and move to call Pigsy, but Wukong latches onto your wrist and falls flat on his face.

“I haven't even finished!”

“I'm scared what you even bothered to get me.”

Wukong whines, “It's a cool gift, I promise!”

“Wukong, I am not taking Nezha's fucking brick!”

“I wasn't gonna give you that! Nezha took it back anyway!”

Now you understand why everyone wants to wring his neck every time he appears. Even you, who still admires the Monkey King, contemplated wringing his neck like a chicken.

Wukong holds you still and digs through his pockets for something. You cross your arms, waiting, and when he finally grabs the object he's been searching for, he holds it in the air like it's the greatest treasure he's ever found.

He places it in your hands, and you blink.

“A rock.”

Wukong coughs behind his palm. He seems embarrassed by the obvious remark, and you notice a light flush on his expression, a deep red. He looks away before standing, finally, and turns the rock in your hand.

It's about the same size of your palm and oddly shaped as most rocks are, but this rock is different. This rock is painted white, and on the side is a clearly illustrated drawing of a certain Monkey King, hugging a certain figure that bears a strong resemblance to you. The side you had been staring at has a carving, written in Mandarin, ‘My peach and me.’

You flip the rock back and forth, eyes wide. It looks a little silly to be considered a proper gift, but you've already come to realize that Wukong, for all of his confidence, just sucks at expressing himself properly. He has an ego but you know truthfully, he just has no idea on how to act around others and hence why he's always…a little weird.

The rock looks like a silly gift, but you can't help your smile. He could've given you something extravagant as his title, but instead.

He gives you a rock.

“Um. If you don't like it it's fine,” Wukong tries to say, a sheepish smile on his expression. “I mean uh. I'm the Monkey King y'know? I'll get you another gift―”

You cut him off by blurting out, “I love it!”

“Eh?”

You smile at Wukong, squeezing the rock between your hands. He looks back equally amazed, and equally confused.

“I love it,” you repeat, and kiss Wukong's cheek. “Trust me. You're an amazing artist, Monkey King. I hope you don't mind if I keep this in my room, right?”

Wukong blinks like you'd just told him Pigsy loves him (as if.) A smile adorns his expression and he nods, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Ha! Well!” The Monkey King laughs boisterously. “If that's whatcha wanna do, go for it! It's your gift y'know?” He scratches his cheek and looks away. “I just. Figured you'd want something…from the heart. Ehem.”

You smile, “I do. Thank you.”

You're too busy smiling at Wukong to have noticed Macaque had sneaked up on both of you, making Wukong visibly jump in surprise when he speaks. You look at the dark furred simian who barely spares the Monkey King a glance, and instead looks to you with a rare, barely visible smile.

“Since we're giving gifts so soon,” Macaque muses and pulls out something from behind his back.

Unlike Wukong's gift, which is quite frankly the opposite of extravagant, Macaque's is wrapped in a light purple colored paper, and tied with a neat, darker purple bow on top. It's a bit strange to think the Macaque would actually give you a gift, but nonetheless the gesture is sweet, especially when he seems very proud of himself to even wrap your gift unlike the Monkey King.

You accept it with a smile and allow your rock to sit peacefully in your pocket. You try to take care in tearing the paper, but give up when it tears unevenly.

“Oh? A doll?” You blink and look up at Macaque, who is smiling, but a little more nervously this time.

Even Wukong looks impressed, eying the container with a whistle. “Didn't know you got better at making those. It looks realistic.”

Macaque looks surprised at the compliment. You knew they always had bad blood ever since an incident in Wukong's journey, and yet to think Wukong still seemed to remember his old friend's hobby makes even you surprised.

Macaque coughs in his hand, nodding. “Yeah, I practiced a bit,” he admits and looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I hope you like it. Sorry it's not the best.”

A daruma doll sits in your palm, round as a squash with your brows and a smile to imitate your excitement. It wobbles with any movement, and it's really, really cute.

“It's beautiful,” you say, a smile on your expression as it wobbles. “I love it!”

You pause, and look at Wukong. “Not anymore than I love yours, Wukong. It's not a competition.”

Wukong grins, “But if it was, I'd win, right?”

Macaque rolls his eyes and remarks, snidely, “You painted a rock. Not sure how you'd win with that, dumbass.”

“It's better than yours at least. Suck my dick.”

“You should suck mines cause mine is bigger.”

“Shut up you gay ass!”

“Says the walking fruit―”

They bicker, as they usually do, but you don't stop them. Not when you're admiring your gifts, both made with you in mind, with care and consideration.

A smile adorns your lips later that night, the daruma doll and painted rock sitting on your bedside table.

“Mine's better.”

“Dude shut the FUCK up!”

158 notes · View notes

bro-atz · 2 months

Text

freesia [flower garden — wooyoung]

inspired by: stranger than friends — webtoon

in which: all wooyoung wants is someone to love him.

pair: college student!wooyoung/gn!reader

word count: 1.6k

content: fluff, childish and immature (but trustworthy) wooyoung, a lot of drunk wooyoung, mentions of alcohol and drinking, a lot of swearing

rating: PG/PG-13 | safe for work!

flower garden masterlist

"I'm so over this! I hate love!"

"Jung Wooyoung, I swear to God—"

"No, Kang Yeosang, you don't understand! I am tired! I am tired of being alone! I'm tired of seeing the four of you dating and having the time of your lives while me? Wither poor fucking Wooyoung," a very drunk Wooyoung exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

"I think you're going to have a hard time because of, well, this," San pointed out— he thought he was being helpful, but he most certainly was not.

"Shut the fuck up, Choi San," the drunken boy mumbled before taking a giant swig from the shared vodka bottle sitting in the middle of the group.

"Sure, because none of us wanted more vodka," Yunho grimaced.

Wooyoung shot the boy a stink eye before falling to the ground. He was fine— he was just being dramatic and falling to the ground like a damsel in distress. The boys knew this routine of his at this point, and instead of console him like the had done countless times in the past, they just ignored him.

"Seriously, Wooyoung. I didn't find my significant other by acting like this," Mingi said with a gentle sigh. "You gotta change this attitude of yours."

"What attitude?"

"This one! This childish and immature ass of yours!" Yeosang blew up; he was honestly extremely tired of hearing Wooyoung sing the same fucking song over and over again for however long they had been friends.

"What, so I should act like fucking Mr. Prim-and-Proper over here? Or like Mr. Humble-Gentleman over there? I'm not a fucking flower boy," Wooyoung frowned as he pointed to Yunho and San respectively.

"No, you don't have to change who you are, but you could maybe try not acting like a spoiled brat and more like a grown adult," Yunho explained.

"But I'm not a grown adult. I'm a college student. We all are college students. You guys need to act your age."

Then, Wooyoung launched into one of his long rants, making the other four boys officially give up for the night. Talking to a drunk Wooyoung was like talking to an annoying, drunk wall. They just let him burn himself out and continued drinking peacefully amongst each other the second Wooyoung passed out for the night.

The next morning, Wooyoung woke up with the most insane hangover— he had never had a hangover before, so he was honestly shocked and scared.

"I'm gettin' too old for this crud," he started that morning as he plopped himself in the barstool near the kitchen.

"Shut the fuck up. You're a college student," Yunho, who was the first one up that morning, retorted while making his morning coffee. "But you could ease up on the alcohol."

"Gee, you think?"

"Anyway," Yunho side-stepped Wooyoung's heavy sarcasm. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Of course I do," Wooyoung said without a hint of sarcasm this time around. "I always remember. I may be drunk, but I'm still mentally there."

"Right. Well, consider it. If you seriously want to be in a relationship, then not acting like a kid may help. People like more mature and serious guys."

"As if you know dating culture so well," Wooyoung scoffed.

"Mmm, considering I've been dating my significant other for five years, I'd say that I know how dating and relationships work by now. More than you for sure."

Wooyoung glared at the tall boy as he smiled smugly at him before heading out of the kitchen to start his day. Checking the time, Wooyoung grumbled to himself as he got himself ready for class. As much as he would love to skip the class he had, it was a lab, and he didn't want to screw over his lab partner. He might've been childish and immature, but you could always trust him to be there at least.

And thankfully for him and his blinding headache, this lab was a darkfield microscopy, which meant that the entire lab was going to be dark. Right before class, he popped a couple of painkillers and stepped into the room to see that they were assigned new lab partners. At first, Wooyoung was resentful because his lab partner was the literal best in dealing with him and his shenanigans, but the second Wooyoung saw who his partner was, he was thanking all the immortal entities in the universe.

He thought it could've been his drunk mind, but you were the most stunning person he had ever met. You were gorgeous with your hair tucked back, and even with the lab goggles on, you had the most beautiful eyes that Wooyoung could spot from miles away. Every single thing you did was so elegant and so graceful, and even though all you were doing was dropping blood onto the slide, it was the most magical thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

What he loved even more was that you would play into his antics. The lab was pretty quiet, so Wooyoung would whisper random jokes here and there to you, and you would respond with the most beautiful chuckle that made his heart swoon over and over and over again. Wooyoung was smitten, obsessed, and dare he say it—

"I'm in love!" Wooyoung cheered at the top of his lungs.

It was boys night again, and this time, Wooyoung was drunk, but he was happy.

"You're weirding me out, lowkey," San watched Wooyoung with wary eyes as he twirled around the dorm.

"San, you don't understand," Wooyoung sighed blissfully. "My lab partner is just... God, my lab partner is perfect. Also! Also, their name!"

He repeated your name, the syllables rolling off his tongue smoothly, your name leaving his lips like a knife cutting through warm butter. And for the rest of the night, that's all he could do. He just kept saying the name of the person he was completely in love with, pissing off his friends in a new way.

Alas, the lab had to end, and Wooyoung feared that you would never speak to him again. You had shared a microscope for a solid two weeks, but neither of you thought to ask to exchange phone numbers. Wooyoung wanted to, don't get him wrong, but every time he thought about doing it, he would chicken out because his heart would be racing at a million miles an hour, and he didn't want you to reject him or for him to have a heart attack just because he was going to ask someone out.

"You just need to ask. It's so simple," Mingi tried helping Wooyoung before he had to go to class.

"Wow, it's as if I didn't consider doing that. Thanks," Wooyoung, using his signature sarcasm, replied.

"Just rip the bandaid off, dude. I don't know what else to tell you. If they reject you, then you just move on. If not, then hooray, your efforts paid off."

"Also, you usually have no shame screaming at the top of your lungs while we're out in public drinking, so why are you finding it so hard to ask someone out?" Yeosang asked.

"Are you saying I should drink then ask them out?"

"No!" both boys chorused at the same time.

"Fucking— Just be yourself, Wooyoung," Yeosang said with a deep sigh. "Just give them a fucking flower and tell them you like them with a dumb joke that you usually make."

"But, I thought you told me I should change? That I should be more mature because people don't like childish, immature guys."

"Don't make me punch you. Get the fuck out, go to class, and for the love of God, just ask."

With Yeosang's words in mind, Wooyoung did exactly that. He was confident and outgoing, so asking you out shouldn't have been as big of a task as he was making it. So, he summoned up all of the courage within him, and he vowed to himself to do it that day.

"Wait! Wait," Wooyoung stopped you after class one day. "I... I want to ask you something."

"What's up?"

"So... Oh my fucking God, I don't know how to say this," Wooyoung muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him. "Why the fuck is it so hard for me to tell you I like you?"

"I like you too, Wooyoung," you helped him out.

"Oh fuck, you heard that?" Wooyoung covered his mouth, his face turning bright red. "I'm going to jump out the window I'm so embarrassed!"

"Oh my God, Wooyoung! I said I like you too! You don't need to do that!" you couldn't help but laugh when Wooyoung actually turned to look for the nearest window to fling himself out of.

"W-Wait... You like me too?"

"Yeah, I do," you shot him the cutest smile that made him clutch his chest and nearly fall over. "I just didn't want to say anything because... Well, I was unsure because you seem to be like this around everyone, and—"

"No! I'm glad that... That you like me too... And I was wondering..." Wooyoung started mumbling again, his nerves taking over once more despite knowing that his feelings were mutual.

"Here's my phone. Give me your number," you stepped in again, making him wonder if you were reading his mind or if he was talking loud enough under his breath or if you were his freaking soulmate.

Wooyoung's fingers trembled as he typed in his phone number and handed your phone back to you.

"I'll text you," you said, that beautiful smile of yours only getting bigger, your face only getting more sparkly. "Maybe you'll find better words over text."

God, Wooyoung was ready to fall over when you giggled and waved good bye to him, the lovestruck boy motionless in the classroom as he watched the actual love of his life glide out of the room.

"I'm so in love! I love love!"

flower garden masterlist

flower garden taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @khjoongie98

networks: @atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @newworldnet @wonderlandnet

#codn: spring 24 #atzhouse #cromernet #cultofdionysusnet #newworldnet #wonderlandnet #ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x gn!reader #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung ateez #wooyoung ateez #jung wooyoung fluff #broatz #flower garden series #flower garden ateez #Spotify

185 notes · View notes

wynsummers · 10 months

Text

i've been thinking about the whole "friction in his jeans" thing a lot lately, and while it is certainly one of the more iconic instances of the lyric in the CD booklet being different from the actual song, it is far from the only one. on top of that, there are quite a few lyrics that play with double meanings that only become clear when they're written out.

so, i present a collection of every lyric in the fob CD booklets that differ from the final version, punctuation and double meanings that aren't noticeable unless the song is written out, and any other interesting details i find in the process, or a really long post of me cornplating about fob:

disclaimer that if the difference is small enough/doesn't change the meaning of the line i won't include it because that would take me years (for example, the book says "light that smoke for giving up on me" and patrick says "yeah, one for giving up on me" but literally who cares that changes nothing. everything i include here is relevant, i think)

follow-up disclaimer that there are a bunch of fucking typos in every single one of these books because these boys never proofread anything but unless i think it's significant in some way i probably will skip it

TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE:

tell that mick:

"I hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle - I confess / now ash yourself out on the insides, when I said I loved you I swear I lied"

grand theft autumn:

"someday i'll appreciate in value, get off my ass and call you... but for the meantime i'll sport my brand new fashion of waking up with my clothes on at 4:00 in the afternoon"

saturday:

"pete and i said goodbye to astoria with promise and precision and mess of youthful innocence"

(most of these are just silly but this one fucking hurts)

sending postcards:

"fake it like you matter - cause that's the biggest secret you have to keep"

chicago is so two years ago:

"that means that I believed every single lie you said (and learned from the best)"

"cause every pain of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you / and every little pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention i still hate you" (pain of glass instead of pane of glass - i think this is supposed to be a parallel. that or pete just misspelled pane)

patron saint:

"I'm holding out and I'm holding on to every letter and every grudge"

*flashes forward 20 years to hmlag*

anyway

FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE:

our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued:

"we're good friends only when you're on your knees"

sugar:

the icon, the legend

"don't mind me, i'm watching you two from the closet wishing to be the friction in his jeans" 🎉🏳️‍🌈

dark alley:

"joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of 'just friends'"

"I'm hopelessly hopeful that you're just hopeless enough"

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my shrimp friends:

"you steer away in a rearview mirror, make my head swim"

i slept with someone in fob:

"someone old, no one new / always borrowed, always you"

THIS ONE!! THIS FUCKING ONE [CAR CRASH] [SIRENS]

ahem. anyway

sixteen candles:

"i confess, i'm just messed up / dropping 'i'm sorrys' like you're still around"

XO:

"to hands"

(that's it. no "between legs, and whatever it takes" just hands. just fuckin. to hands)

"to hotel stares/stairs" (wordplay!! to clarify it literally says "stares/stairs" in the book)

"choose awe or sympathy"

also in the last verse it says 'to the "love"' with the quotes which is just kinda funny

INFINITY ON HIGH:

this ain't a scene:

"crashing not like hips or hearts"

i'm like a lawyer:

"i only keep myself this sick in the head cause i know how the words get you (off)"

"collect the bad habits that you couldn't bare to keep" (idk this one might just be a typo)

hum hallelujah:

similarly, this might also be a typo, but "versus" is spelled "verses"

(after) life:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is the cornplatiest i have ever been. but on genius it says "death's in a double bed"

and on the lyric book it says "deaths in a double bed"

that changes everything!!! (not really, i know) it's not death as a concept or figure or whatever it's deaths. as in multiple people dying. aaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhhhh

moving on

carpal tunnel:

"we take the sip from life's lush lips"

the line "we might've started singing just a little soon" isn't listed, it's just the goodbye line twice

"but i'm just tired yawns for fawns"

you're crashing:

"the cause, the kid, the charm, and the curse"

ginasfs:

"lips pressed this close to mine"

"but the prince of this failing empire knows" (hhhnnnggggggghhh)

"i've already given up on myself once but the third time is the charm" that's not how numbers work pete <3

"just kind of figured on not figuring myself out"

FOLIE A DEUX:

folie a deux doesn't have a lyric book. just portraits of the boys with empty white pages that have their names written on them. my poor beautiful masterpiece

BELIEVERS NEVER DIE VOL. 1:

fnowae:

not a lyric but for some reason the whole fuckin song is in quotes

SAVE ROCK AND ROLL:

the phoenix:

another punctuation thing but instead of "hope to die" it's "hope-to-dies"

"you're wearing our vintage misery"

alone together:

"my heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broke in" instead of "broken" (i love double meanings!! i love wordplay!! i love pete wentz!!)

where did the party go:

"i will appear to you if you make yourself shake fast enough"

the mighty fall:

the lyric book straight up doesn't have big sean's part 💔

rat a tat:

at the end there's this "talk less / mean more / let's be electric / like we were before" that i have literally never heard so i'm assuming it's a neat little cut lyric

save rock and roll:

"i will save the songs / the songs we're singing"

AMERICAN BEAUTY / AMERICAN PSYCHO:

irresistible:

"coming in announced" this one. this one's just a typo. come on boys it's been 12 years at this point read the books more than once

"i just dragged my nails on the tile / i just follow your scent" ?? idk

"this will not be a battle"

ab/ap:

for some fucking reason it just says "she's an american beauty" three times at the start of the song 😭

"and as we're drifting off to sleep" isn't in there, it just says "and all those dirty thoughts of me, they were never yours to keep"

the kids aren't alright:

indulge me once more, reader. i am cornplating again

instead of "former heroes who quit too late and just wanna fill up their trophy case again" it's "wanted to" do you understand why that makes me insane

also they have it as "will put your curse in reverse" instead of "we" which could be a typo but could also be a neat little change

uma thurman:

"you cut me deep like uma thurman"

jet pack blues:

"i'm the kind that can turn june to september / the last one that you'll ever remember"

"between these two white highway signs"

immortals:

"i try to picture you without me but i can't"

M A N I A:

hold me tight or don't:

the line "i'm pretty sure that this isn't how our story ends" isn't included

wilson:

"i know it's just a number but to me you're the 8th wonder"

sunshine riptide:

they didn't include any of burna boy's lines 😒

SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST:

smfs doesn't have any lyric changes that i noticed, just the usual typos.

update: future emma here, upon further contemplation I have decided to add the line "I'd never go, I just want to be invited" since the first verse definitely says "I'll" (thank you sugarweregoinin and foliejpg for inspiring this revelation)

and there we have it! if you're insane patient enough to have made it until the end, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! if there are any i missed/any in CDs that i don't have please let me know i find these so fascinating (if you couldn't tell). i just love getting glimpses into their writing process and seeing how the songs we know and love evolve before they get to us. i might also do a post about how spotify/genius gets a bunch of their lyrics wrong because it pisses me off but this is all for now, good day/night!

#fall out boy #fob #i can't believe i spent four hours on this #take this to your grave #from under the cork tree #infinity on high #folie a deux #save rock and roll #american beauty/american psycho #mania #so much (for) stardust #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

535 notes · View notes

edgeray · 2 months

Text

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 2

Ball (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Wasn't really expecting to write arle content so soon but heck i miss writing and school makes me sad :( i have 4 assessments next week. i hate it here. also for @\megistusdiary and @\servalisms who feed me so well <333 love you guys. anyways, following the same concept as the first part here, this is some time after Reader and Arlecchino has made the contract. What do you guys think about this series? Future edit: It's gonna be a blurb, I say. It'll be less than 1k I say. *Looks at the time.* It's 3AM and the finished product is 2.2k words. Again. How do I do this to myself. I'm not calling this a oneshot though because not my greatest quality. Content Warning: Suggestive. semi-graphic descriptions of violence Series Masterlist

It's funny, really, having a demon as your butler. You could never imagine yourself as the type of person to even consider such a notion, and you certainly were not a believer of the supernatural either. Of course, beliefs change and so do mindsets; after all, your worldview was shattered with one singular event. It is that catalyst that has led you down this path. You used to believe that revenge was just a trope, an exaggerated manifestation of pettiness but as you feel it pump through your blood and inject in its veins, revenge is so very palpable. And with the contract, it's graspable, within your reach. It's like a dessert, waiting to be devoured after the main course. And like a dessert, however, in order to really savor it, one must be patient.

It has led you to this point. To a ball, specifically. The preparations have all been laid out, and you know what you your goal from this event is. The only thing left to do is to prepare the final touches and carry out the plan.

For all your meticulous planning, you don't expect yourself to be hindered before you had even gotten to the event. And defeated by a corset dress of all things. You couldn't extend your arms anymore to reach the strings behind your dress. Of course, you have other dresses, but none were as suitable for this event besides this one; this dress is made especially to carry secret compartments for weapons, a feature that none of your other apparels have.

"Arlecchino," you call out to your butler, and within a moment, the air of the room grew considerably colder, alerting you of the demon's sudden appearance. The abrupt chill invokes a chill down your spine and you let out a breathy exhale as you gazed at the mirror in front of you, and could see your servant's form just behind you, her height towering over you. On her face is the usual subtle smirk when she's with you and her red pupils gleamed just slightly.

"You look beautiful, my Lady," she greets with a low drawl although you knew it was out of politeness than admiration. Her irises burn as you could feel it traverse over your exposed back and you can barely suppress the goosebumps that her gaze provoked.

"I didn't summon you here to ogle me, Arlecchino," you say, maintaining a cool tone despite the warmth that bloomed over your bare skin, pricking your senses. A low rumble comes from the being and she leans forward placing her icy black hands over your naked shoulders, fingertips running across the surface smoothly as it slowly nears your collarbone. Her face nears your left ear, her breath cascading against your earlobe.

"Of course. It was simply an observation, my Lady. But, dare I say, you look simply ravishing." The demon whispers against the shell of your ear, her voice adorning the smallest bit of allure in it, and her hands suddenly grip your shoulders as she emphasizes the last word, then relaxing a moment later. Your inhale hitches but no other reaction is displayed outwardly.

"The strings, Arlecchino," you instruct as a distraction away from the soft flaring of your cheeks.

A brief pause as you observe through the mirror the gleam of mischief in the demon's black pits, and her hands move down your shoulder, only the pads of her fingers brushing ghosting over your shoulder blades and yet it feels like the heat from the contact drips down onto your skin. It's a lagging pace, deliberate and feather light as it finally reaches the farthest down string. Prodding fingers caress against your back as she begins maneuvering the strings masterfully, each graze seemingly lingering as it seems like she takes every opportunity to memorize the texture of you on her fingertips. When her painstaking process draws close to its end, she ties the strings together, making it tight enough to make you groan and arch your back from the sting. When you do, she traces a finger up the curvature of your spine.

"Arlecchino," you chastise with a shuddering breath. Hands find themselves on your hips, clawed fingertips faintly digging into you and you're suddenly pulled to her being, chest meeting against your spine.

"You can't possibly fault me for my behavior when you're far too delectable, can you?" She voices against your nape, cold lips just barely hovering over it while you feel hot air stroke against your hair. You shudder. A small ire wells up inside of you and you break from her grasp easily.

“You know better than to fool around now of all times,” you huff irritably, before spinning around. “Now, are you dressed yet?”

Your breathing halts once your eyes scan Arlecchino's body. Donning a midnight black tailcoat alongside matching slim trousers, a white button-collared dress shirt with scarlet ruffled cuffs, and finally, a simple jet black necktie. It is not very different compared to her usual apparels, and yet your sight cannot help but stagger over her. She's devilishly handsome, you begrudgingly admit to yourself, objectively pleasant to your view. You get the sense something is missing from her appearance, however, perhaps a mark of yours on her neck. You bite your tongue in reprimand to suppress any more carnal thoughts and you shift your focus away.

“Is it to your liking, my Lady?” A smug smile graces her kissable lips.

“It's appropriate enough. You're missing something,” You reply back cooly, and you dig around the nearby drawers for the items you search for. Upon finding them, you find ebony gloves and then promptly fling them at the demon's face. They hit squarely, and slide off her mildly shocked expression with a comical, slow pace. It gives you more satisfaction than it should.

“There,” you remark with a blank expression but a tone matching her prior pomposity. “I suppose you're presentable as my servant now.”

You brush past her, comforted by the fact her eyes follow your form with each step.

—

Upon arrival at the ball, it's nearly overwhelming–chatter fills the room and surrounds you at every angle, suffocating you under the noise of whispered gossip. A suited server comes up to you with a glass of some presumed luxurious beverage, no doubt costing a ludicrous amount. You swivel the untouched drink in your hand as you survey other guests, searching for a particular face in general. Arlecchino should be doing something similar right now, if she hasn't already found her target.

The person you're looking for is no longer to be found, at least in your approximate vicinity. You grind your teeth together and your hand bunches the fabric of your dress in a fist. An advancing man steps into view and strolls towards you, confidence and snobbery exuding from his walking.

“Would you like a dance, my Lady?”

You can't help but cringe at the addressment, the term sounding only right from one particular individuial's tongue. But nonetheless, a cordial smile masks your disgust and you agree to it, letting the man lead you to a slow, and quite frankly, boring waltz. His movements are just flamboyanes to cover up his sloppy movements, and it only makes you wonder how a demon can so masterfully practice an art made by humans. During the dance, you try to fish him out of any useful information, but the daft male is incapable of doing anything besides leering at you.

You could feel at the back of your neck someone else's stare–one that kindles like the flames of hell. You smirk to yourself. Maybe you can use her gaze, taunt her through this. You lean ever so closer, lurching forward to whisper something in his ear and you let his filthy hands wander your form a bit.

When you finally part from him, enduring one last, disappointing dance, you say your farewells to him. Not out of respect as a dance partner but because you know his life will end in a few minutes. You only hope she remembers to dispose of the body and clean up the evidence.

You find that she reappears by your side in less than fifteen minutes. It's cute that she does it when you're not in the vicinity, like you don’t already know what she did. How fortunate for you that you've already isolated yourself to a lone balcony when she finds you. Otherwise, people may accuse the two of you as undignified lovers.

Shortly afterwards, the two of you return to the main location of the ball, and again, you're in search of a certain man. Arlecchino has yet been successful in finding her target and you wander the dance floor once again, though this time, you decline any dance requests.

Your gaze follows that of a group of men eyeing something, and you trace for what they're looking at. With great irritance, you discover it's the demon that they’re leching over. Something ugly coils in the pit of your stomach, an ugly sensation filling your being the longer you watch their gaze, like a feeling that what they are coveting after is one of your belongings.

“Arlecchino,” you softly gruff under your breath. You observe from across the large room that her head perks up immediately, reminiscent of how a dog would when its name is called, and without even looking, she steers through the sea of ball-goers towards your direction.

When she’s finally in front of you, there's an aggravating, knowing grin that Arlecchino fails to hide. “Yes, my Lady?”

You reach out to tug her necktie to you like a leash and she compliantly lets you pull her face towards you.

“If people keep leering at you like that, they'll become an inevitable hindrance,” you lie straight through your teeth, hating the way her eyes crinkle in amusement as she sees right through you. The two of you know you're lying.

“And what are you going to do about it, my Lady?” You should order her to wipe that complacent sneer off of her face, shouldn't you?

“This,” you give her neck time a harsh yank and your lips brush against her neck, teeth biting her skin and your tongue lapping at the bite mark. It's a quick, stinging action that makes the demon grunt lowly but she's yet to pull away. She wouldn't dare to, not without your instructions.

You pull away only after a few moments because it's not a mark made out of passion or affection. It’s a mark made out of desperation, out of possessiveness, to remind those who she belongs to and who can touch her.

“Don't you dare hide it,” you demand, indignation creeping up your words. You release her, and she simply nods, her gloved fingers dabbing the mark. Walking away, you feel strangely content–what was missing from Arlecchino's appearance is there now.

You call for her one last time during the ball. When you've led the man you were searching for into a private guest room, and you loosen his lips with the suggestiveness of your actions and the alcohol you slip in his hands. The information that spews out to you is useless, the furthest thing to what you desire even when you’ve pushed yourself far past what you'd like. He simply doesn't have what you want, you frustratingly recognize. You've let this man undress you until you're nearly half-naked for nothing.

At the moment you acknowledge that this entire venture to this ball was for naught, you kick the disgusting man in the face, hard enough to hear a crunch underneath your heel and in his clutched hands, his broken nose bleeds. You sigh and start redressing yourself, thankful at least you didn't allow him to derobe you any further while he chucks insolent expletives and meaningless threats at you. He dares to reach out his hand for you with your back against him and it is then you mutter her name.

“Arlecchino.”

And like every time, she materializes right where you want her to, in between you and the vermin, blocking you from his sight.

“Yes, my Lady?” She purrs as the man sputters out in shock, tumbling back.

You don't even look over your shoulder to give a command, instead, opting to fix your hair. “Dispose of him.”

There's no need for you to watch the bloodbath. You're familiar with how she kills now. It lasts no more than a few seconds and when you smell soot, you know she's done. You turn around, the last few embers of his body dissipating in the air. There's no remnants of him anymore, the room is spotless clean, except for the smear of blood on her cheek.

“Don't you demons know how to clean yourselves?” You chastise with an exasperated click of your tongue and extend your hand, your thumb wiping the crimson droplet from her face and then guiding your thumbpad to her lips. Her tongue darts out, and laps up the last trace of him with a deliberate swipe.

It ignites a blaze in your chest and your heart drums.

“Take me home, Arlecchino. We're done here.”

“Of course, my Lady.”

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fic #genshin fics #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino smut #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

170 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 2 months

Note

Kissing, lighting and sleepy sex for Hideout Steve and Reader?

I am not prepared. My feels...they shall be too deep and endless. I shall try anyway.

From this dirty ask game for this AU series where Nomad Steve lets motel-employee!Reader soothe his touch-starved body. Lawd, halp me, this is about to get crunk in a tooth-rotting, put-some-pillows-beneath-you you're-gonna-faint type o' way. [y'all can't tell I drank during the eclipse today, right? I'm subtle? Cool.] MINORS DNI.

K - Kissing

ACK My heart! Or rather, there is something deeply adoring for Steve when you kiss his chest, over his heart. It makes him feel just that much more like a person who lives in this world, who belongs in this world, who will return one day to this world...

His hands are also a big one--no, not just actually big hands, but important to show love to because he uses them for such violence. Each kiss is like a little touch of forgiveness for what he's done or had to do with those hands. He appreciates the trust it takes, too, to kiss his palms, when he could easily stop you breathing (sorry, that sounds dark, but Nomad was in a dark place, okay, bad things occur to him now).

Steve loves to kiss your stomach, and it might be somewhat taboo to say, but he has a touch of that crawl-back-home-for-safety comfort thing going on when he presses close and holds your center to him. It's not a mommy kink or roleplay, per se; he relishes the connectedness of being one and curling up against you is the only non-sexual way he knows how to achieve that--like in Chapter 3 when he falls asleep in that position.

As far as leaving marks though? Steve can emphatically say 'hell no,' not on purpose. Pain is a bit, meh, weird for him because he heals so quickly. He might not even notice if you did bite or bruise him. He certainly wouldn't see it in the morning. He does not in any way associate marks with love or affection since he only ever saw them on himself after fights or on women (including his Ma) after being abused.

That is not love to Steve.

It's control, it's dominance, it's inequality, and he fucking hates it.

L - Lighting

Steve entirely defers to you on whether there are actual lights on or off. He likes to use his senses to explore and enjoy you, so without light is fine. He's just here for you.

Steve does, however,--no spoilers for Chapter 5--like ambiance such as candles or something dim and colorful. He thinks you'd look unbelievably perfect beside a sparkling Christmas Tree. He hopes to celebrate (all holidays and birthdays and everything) openly with you some day. The sooner the better.

(Except, no audience for him making love to you under those twinkling lights, please. He's staunchly opposed to that sort of thing.)

S - Sleepy Sex

So, again, no spoilers for Chapter 5, but once Steve gets comfortable with oral sex he is comfortable with oral sex, if you catch my drift.

If he wakes up first, he's on you in some way, arms and legs draped over you, kissing any place he can get to, man-handling you just enough to start something he 100% will finish. He's just...uh god, so attentive.

With the super senses and being a fugitive though, it's not often that you can wake up before him, truly, which limits or completely removes the ability to surprise him with a blowjob, but he will dreamily let you roam wherever your mouth and hands take you. As long as there's lots of contact. As much as possible really. Like lay your arms across his thighs and abs while playing with him. Maybe put your body over one of his legs and ride his foot if you need to. He must feel attached in some way. Cold, distant, or separated does not do it for him.

Here's my absolute, I-will-die, favorite thing about Hideout Steve though: when he's tired/fatigued/worn out/sleepy, he gets louder.

Much. Much. Louder, babes.

No cursing, mostly, but all the moans and groans and whining are totally dialed up. And I don't know about y'all, but I can't really think of anything fucking sexier than Nomad Steve screaming that he's gonna come.

🥵

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Here lies Ro in a puddle. She made up a man she wants and will never have.

[Main Masterlist; Hideout Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #hideout series #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #dirty asks #ask game

151 notes · View notes

yanderemommabean · 3 months

Note

PLEASE WRITE MORE DEATH NOTE I BEG YOU. THERE IS NOT ENOUGH ONLINE I NEED MORE YANDERE L. PLEASE I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THE PROTECTION SPELLS I HAVE! I love the idea of foreigner reader that doesn't speak Japanese well and just came to Japan for a fun trip and now they are being investigated for being Kira. Reader is more scared of being arrested than of Kira because they have literally never committed a crime in their life so they know they are safe but they are scared of the legal system because they know that's it's not actually justice sometimes. But they aren't crying in a corner either. They just take it as it comes but they definetly don't like it and just want to go back home.

Also when L is like "who do you think Kira is since you say you aren't them." and reader is just like "light". point blank. doesn't bat an eye. and l is just like "...I agree with you....but do explain why since you've had only one conversation with him." and reader's just like "he's too perfect. have you ever watched a True crime documentary? the perfect dude, or the dude that could never do anything wrong, is the killer." and l is just like "...I agree.....but you are aware that you are too perfect..doesn't that make you a killer?" and reader is just like "me???perfect?? in what world??"

I'm rambling but please more death note L.

I love the point blank call out, just "Listen, anyone with eyes can see that Light is too calculated with his movements, like he's paranoid to step out of line. Even when he messes up it's too clean"

L just hums and nods along, but he's already fairly certain Light is Kira anyway, he just likes to hear your thought process and likes how your voice sounds.

You're not a helpless little lamb by any means, but you're certainly unaware of how much danger is actually around you. Kira is a big deal, everyone is on his hit list it seems, even sweet, intelligent and enthralling visitors such as yourself.

L isn't one to sugar coat things either, he's rather blunt and forward, as the worlds best detective has to be to cut out the bullshit. So he sets his sweets down and abruptly says "Be that as it may, until we actually catch Kira, you aren't going to be able to leave. As much as it annoys us both, you're still involved in this as anyone else"

You just tense your jaw, paranoid thoughts rushing through your mind as you fear you might somehow incriminate yourself despite being fully innocent. What can you say? The legal system sucks. But L just lays a hand on your shoulder, giving a rare smile as he tries to ease your nerves.

"Ah, but you'll have me on your side. You'll be safe from any harm. You're free to go to your hotel, but you will be hearing from us again"

He can admit he hates seeing you so stressed, and rather lascivious thoughts fill his brain on how to indulge you and fix that, but sadly the clock is ticking and he has some annoying people to answer before he can relax. He'll just have to make do with watching some street cameras and remembering the warmth of you under his fingertips.

-Mommabean

#yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #mommabean #yandere L #yandere death note #yandere male #yandere lawliet #male yandere

220 notes · View notes

queensunshinee · 14 days

Text

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

138 notes · View notes