#its all fake and for my own amusement | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

awritesthings1 · 5 months

Text

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

2K notes · View notes

matryosika · 8 months

Text

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth.

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?”

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway.

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?”

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”.

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”.

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished.

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind.

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”.

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”.

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung.

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”.

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”.

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to.

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder.

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back.

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards.

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees.

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”.

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you.

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”.

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches.

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”.

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit.

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations.

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it.

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it.

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?”

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”.

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”.

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you.

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time.

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up.

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable.

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there.

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you.

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?”

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast.

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile.

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

2K notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 6 months

Text

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, dark themes, mention of drug use and cheating, stalking, obsession, König’s pov

A/n: it’s a prequel to my Fuck or Die fic, so go check it out<3 Will this be the beginning of psychotic yan! König series?? Maybe🤭

Crouched in uncomfortable position, fabric on his knees was damp from wet soil on which König was kneeling, mosquitos buzzing all over his head, all eager to drink of his warm blood - but he didn’t budge, staying still like a panther observing its next prey. Soft rustling filled König’s ears, warm breeze ruffling up the leaves of dense shrubbery among which man sat, completely concealing his bulky form.

König’s mouth filled with saliva, dilated pupils concealed the icy blue of his eyes, making them look pitch black. He swallowed hard, exhaling as slowly as he could through his nose, a spark of excitement settling somewhere deep within his stomach, watching unblinkingly through thick lenses of his binoculars two bodies swirling together.

In a building about three hundred meters afar all widows were free from curtains, revealing the insides of the house. With thumping heart König watched guy’s hands slip down Y/n’s sides, caressing sweet indent of her waist, down to soft hips and lower, finally resting on two hemispheres of girl’s plump ass. He noted how her back arched ever so slightly, pushing further into her boyfriend’s chest, hot mouthes connecting in a sloppy kiss, bright blush dusting Y/n’s soft cheeks and pointy tips of her ears.

Breaking apart shortly after, König’s sharp eyes watched guy’s lips move. “I love you” he said and König couldn’t help but snort in amusement, memories from only few hours earlier were still fresh in his head - how that motherfucker offered to give that cute cheerleader girl from his class a ride home, pulling up in an empty parking lot, not even ten minutes later his car was shaking from side to side. Still, Y/n smiled softly at his words, making König’s jaw clench. He could do so much better.

König didn’t expect much from you at first. Truth be told - it wasn’t you who caught his attention, but your boyfriend, especially where he lived. A huge house on the outskirts - closest neighbouring cottages were at best one kilometre away, making this place a perfect target for König’s next outing. So he came to studying its inhabitants more closely - a family of three - couple in their fifties and their only son. How better can it possibly get?

So König entered his usual routine - first and most important step was to learn more about his future victims, their routines and people they were close with. It was very easy with parents - an average boring life consisting of work, household and a dinner at local restaurant every Saturday. But slasher couldn’t say the same about their child.

From the very first hours König felt deep disdain for that guy. Everything about him just felt fake. A perfect son and excellent boyfriend, captain of local football team, goody two shoes who has never done anything wrong in his whole life - everyone’s golden boy, all bright smiles and promising future. The exact same one who snorted cocaine in stale bathrooms of gas stations, hands too shaky and mind too numb from withdrawal to actually process his surroundings; the one who, stoned out of his head, gladly threw himself in embrace of other women, hardly remembering sweet face of his girlfriend.

Oh, his girlfriend. Y/n - a sweet and lovely little thing, all butterflies and unicorns, never once failing to hold König’s full attention without slightest intention of doing so.

Watching Y/n has always been way more fun and exciting for him. König guessed it had something to do with her demeanour - so drastically different from his own, that attracted him so much. How bubbly and vibrant you were, making everything around you play with new colours, just like a little ray of sunshine - something König has never been.

Oftentimes slasher caught himself listening intently to you going over newest gossip with your best friend over the phone (wiretapping is way easier than one may think), your sweet voice filling his ears like honey, soothing his raging thoughts buzzing within his skull, clinging to every smallest word you said. It didn’t take much time for König to find your socials as well, spending way much longer than he should studying your pictures, breathing becoming shallow and his dick twitching at the sight of your puffy lips, often imagining how they’d look like wrapper around his shaft.

What König took special liking of was to watch your nightly routine. It was a stable and never changing chain of events - hot shower, skincare, rubbing moisturiser into your feet, shins and hands, and then finally tucking yourself comfortably in soft bed. It was nothing special, yet König craved to be a part of it. Craved to be the one applying whatever shit that was on your pretty face, to massage good-smelling mixtures onto your cheeks

Back to reality, König watched both Y/n and that little boyfriend of hers settling down in the couch, starting some soap opera on big TV screen.

Maybe now? König’s whole body froze at sudden thought. He swallowed hard once again, his mind racing, adrenaline burning through his veins at the intensity of this idea alone. Guy’s parents were out of town, meaning that him and Y/n were all alone in the house. König glanced at the black sport bag lying right next to him on damp ground, electricity tingling his fingertips - he had all necessary stuff packed with him, just go for it.

Slasher gazed through binoculars once again, blue eyes fixating upon you two cuddled up on the couch, man’s mind now filling with all the possible things he could do to the motherfucker, sight of him holding you so gently making König’s blood boil.

Reaching over to his bag murderer opened it, pulling out his mask and checking if voice changer was working still. All of König’s thoughts dissipating into nothingness the moment soft fabric of under mask touched the skin of his cheeks, leaving place for only one thing:

Soon she will be mine

#slasher!konig #cod könig #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x y/n #cod fanfiction #cod mw #cod mwf2 #cod modern warfare #kortac #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x reader #call of duty writing #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare

793 notes · View notes

sugar-grigri · 9 months

Text

Fujimoto answers you directly in this chapter (yes)

How about reading CSM differently? Or at least cut it up differently? Because the more the chapters progress, the more a certain pattern seems to repeat itself: Part 1 sounds as if Fujimoto is unveiling CSM in its purest form, then Part 2 sounds as if CSM is responding to its own reception by its fans.

I've already said many times that Fujimoto likes contrast in form and in writing, and this chapter, though brain-numbing, simply follows Fujimoto's own rules, only in an even more accentuated way.

To prove my point, I recommend you reread chapter 133 "Protest", which for me speaks directly to the divisive image represented by Fujimoto and his work Chainsaw Man.

I've already done an exhaustive analysis of it, but let's get one thing out of the way: Fujimoto answers his fans in part 2.

Whether it's by posing a heroine who seems incompatible with Denji, hating the figure of CSM which is nonetheless the work in which she's included, whether it's through the themes addressed by part 2, the question of dual identity, creating antagonists like Fake!CSM, setting up a church (us) around CSM

We're in a work that speaks for itself, as chapter 137 confirms, and for this very rule, we refer to the previous chapters (an eternal restart).

Chapter 136, entitled "Normal Life", refers to a more-than-CENTRAL theme in Chainsaw Man, the nerve that irrigated the whole of Part 1 Denji's disillusionment, a bargaining chip for the former antagonist, Fujimoto takes his fans by the hand and puts them back into the game they know.

We see what we'd all expected to see, a Denji who doesn't know how to fit into normal life, who's not cut out for

In my previous analysis, I explained how not only is Denji incapable of having a normal life, not only because of himself but also because of Yoshida, who offers him this life, and above all because of Fujimoto, who abruptly breaks the rhythm of his own chapter with this aggression, frustrating (I'm sure on purpose) his own fans.

What Fujimoto does is make you think you were reading in the right direction, showing you a Denji depressed by his normal life, and like a child amused by not wanting to be predictable, he breaks what would otherwise have been a logical thing to see. I mean… Who could have foreseen such a title?

Chapter 137 simply follows the same logic: Fujimoto has foreseen your frustrated reactions and knows full well that you've become attached to Denji, hoping that he'll break out of the cycle of manipulation.

He plays you in this chapter by setting up a confident, emotionally well-adjusted Denji who pushes this stranger away, reminding her of the rules of respect and consent.

It's not just Denji's thoughts, the way he would have liked to act, it's also the way YOU would have liked him to act.

Now I can explain why these chapters, which break with the previous ones in their absurdity, are surely the most important in CSM.

Many had pointed to the famous cinema reference in chapter 136, others had even noted that chapter 136 constituted chapter 39 of part 2, responding to Makima's date with Denji in part 1 in the same chapter.

But chapter 39 of part 1 wasn't just interesting for the cinema scene, it was the one that set the rules for understanding CSM.

In fact, it was this chapter to which chapter 93 responded, with Denji's ideology (in favor of bad movies) confronting Makima (against bad movies).

In the same way, the second chapter 39 (the 136th) also seeks to lay down rules

Chapters 136 and 137 have never been more responsive to CSM fans, stubbornly denying them what they want.

What Fujimoto does is to return to cinema in its purest form in the second half, using the codes of the middle-aged male slasher.

That's why the two high-school students go to Fujimoto's karaoke bar, because you're going to find yourself in its purest essence: having fun with the utmost absurdity.

It's no longer a question of representing cinema, as in the two chapters 39, but of making cinema.

But why a slasher? Think of the mythical slashers that traumatized a generation… Yes… The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a work that has achieved cult status for having opened the door to a new trend in American horror cinema: the slasher movie. Nothing represents a slasher movie more than a chainsaw-headed hero?

Inspired by the Italian "giallos", slasher movies feature a masked killer, a gang of youngsters and the killings of the serial killer in question. Fujimoto takes up this theme in his own way: Denji doesn't kill with his iconic chainsaw, he's not masked, and it's the young couple who hold the beats and the shady men who get killed.

If we go back to the depression we all expected to see, it's actually more complicated to understand: Denji's depression at being trapped in a type of writing that's too serious for him.

Here Denji follows the rules of the game, enjoying himself by killing all those old people, saying ironically: "not bad this normal life".

Because this scene is perfectly normal in Fujimoto's karaoke.

In itself, Yoshida was right. Indeed, no, Denji is not the hero of the normal film that was unfolding before them. Because they're not in normal life, it's projected onto the screen. CSM's reality is an absurd slasher. It is in this slasher, in this false normal life, that the protagonist, Denji, is.

Denji is the protagonist of another film. And maybe in this one, the world needs Chaisaw Man.

#csm spoilers #chainsaw man #csm part 2 #csm #denji #csm 137 #csm 136 #csm 133 #csm 39 #my thoughts

1K notes · View notes

createdbytragedy · 1 month

Text

LOVE CHANGES

A/N: This is like the continuation of my previous post Love and So... There's this girl. But it can be read without reading them too. Though I'd like you to check it out and tell me how I do.

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader

Genre: Fluff, crack

Warning: Reader is a well known fashion designer, Han being extremely dramatic,

Synopsis: Its been 6 months since you and Minho dated which means 6 months since Minho has been acting 'suspicious'

It has been too long. Too long since Minho started acting really, really suspicious.

Han occasionally peeked at Minho who sat across from him at the dance studio, smiling at his phone.

Why is he smiling?

Minho had been acting so, so, so weird lately. And Jisung had noticed it since the beginning. He was acting really suspicious.

How?

Well, since when did Minho start to randomly smile at his phone while texting? Since when did he start to wear bracelets? That too, that had a sparkly sun in it. It looked like something he would wear but when Han asked if he could burrow it, he was met with a stern glare and a cold 'no'.

Minho's been too excited to go home these days too. Like, he had something better to do than just lay on his bed and dream about his cats. Whenever the gang decides to eat a takeout and just go home together, Minho would deny and say he had to go home now.

Go home to do what?!

Now, Jisung watched as Minho once again smiled at his phone then started typing. He stood up from his seat and strided towards Minho.

"Who are you texting?" Minho immediately pulled the phone on his chest, like hiding it from him.

"No one. " He answered, the smile he saw just now long gone and he had this serious poker resting bitch face.

"You were smiling." Han stated, eying him suspiciously. Minho raised his brow at his friend's odd behaviour.

"I was?"

"Yes, you were. "

A silence followed after with both party in different reason. Han looked at Minho like he was a puzzle he was trying to solve and Minho looked at Han like he just lost his marbles.

"What's up with you?" Minho asked, trying to fake a laugh to lighten the awkward situation.

Jisung scoffed," What's wrong with me? No. What's wrong with you? "

His tone raised and attracted the attention of the other hyung line present in the room. They gave each other a knowing look and continued minding their own business while keeping their ears wide open.

"You're acting weird. " Han told him.

"How?"

"You're smiling randomly at your phone and you never wear bracelets especially the ones with sparkly sun draped around it!" He looked so serious it almost looked like a couple bickering.

"Can I not just smile at my phone and change my interest?" Minho asked back, getting up to meet Han's eyes. He found all these so ridiculous and amusing.

"No," Jisung shook his head ," you can't. Not you. "

"What are you trying to imply by that, hm?"

"That YOU ARE CHEATING ON ME WITH A REALLY PRETTY WOMAN!!" He screamed, sobbing onto the floor.

Minho's eyes widened at the accusations or rather the fact as all his members looked at them. Eyes wide, jaw dropped. Hyunjin let out a dramatic gasp and he could see Seungmin smirk from the corner of his eyes.

"Lee know, you are what?" Hyunjin asked, clenching his heart. Minho rolled his eyes but shot them wide open when even his hyung joined.

"You're cheating on Hannie with a woman?" Bang Chan asked, eyes wide.

"Why are you emphasizing the woman so much?"

"That means you are dating a woman!!" Felix screeched, pointing an accusing finger to Minho.

And before he knew it, all his members had surrounded him, sitting in a circle and asking him numerous questions.

"Who's the girl? Come on, tell us!" Changbin pleaded, taking Minho's arm and squeezing it like a little girl.

"Is she an idol? Is she pretty? Wait, do we know her?" Felix seemed just as excited as a teenage girl.

"You cheater!" Han scoffed, "is she prettier than me?"

"I can't really imagine you dating a girl or doing anything romantic." Jeongin stated, chuckling dryly. Seungmin agreed, scrunching up his nose while looking at Minho.

"Aish! You guys are so annoying!! Why are you so interested in my love life?! "Minho groaned, shaking Felix and Changbin off his arms.

"Then just tell us her name and her Instagram id and we'll ask her on our own. " Hyunjin suggests, rolling his eyes like it was an obvious thing.

Tch, as if.

"No way in hell you're getting anything of her, Hyunjin. " Minho simply stated.

"Why not??!! Come on....... Show us a picture? Is it true? Did she get you this bracelet?" Felix asked, touching the silver metal wrapped around his wrist. Minho extracted his hand quickly like Felix had a disease or something.

"I'd rather not hear it, to be honest." Seungmin muttered, like anyone was stopping him from walking out the wide open door. But he stayed seated, next to Jeongin.

"Okay, okay, guys, I think you should leave him alone." Bang Chan chimes. A few groans left their mouths. Mostly changbin, Felix and Hyunjin.

"Oh, come one. Don't be such a party pooper. Don't you wanna know who got Minho hyung's heart?" Changbin said, making a heart in his fingers and placing it in front of Minho's chest.

"If you just tell me who the girl is, I'll forgive you. " Jisung added. Minho rolled his eyes.

"I actually do want to know, though." Bang Chan agreed. Minho could only groan now as his only saviour gave him an apologetic yet teasing grin. He let out a sigh of defeat and looked around at his members who looked back at him with eagerness.

"Fine. " He groaned, " I am dating a girl. "

A teasing whistle echoed and Minho felt someone nudging his shoulder. Probably Felix. He didn't care to look. They continued to stare at him like curious kittens so he continued.

"Who is it?"

"(y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)." Minho replied simply.

"Wait, you mean the designer (y/n)?" Hyunjin asked, eyes wide. Minho simply nodded,"are you kidding me?! I'm wearing her autumn collection shirt right now!" He shrieks, pulling his shirt to show everyone the white sweatshirt he wore.

"Seriously?! You're dating her?! For how long?" Changbin asked.

"It's been 6 months, I think. " Minho said, calculating in his mind.

"You've been dating for 6 months and never mentioned her to us?!" Jisung asked, too dramatically for Minho's liking.

"I did mention her all the time. Remember the friend I went to dinner with? The park? The museum?" He rolled his eyes, trying to remind Jisung of the hints he dropped.

"You just said it was a friend . You never mentioned the friend's gender. " Jisung said defensively. Minho rolled his eyes for like the 10th time tonight.

"I can't believe (y/n) would date someone like you. " Seungmin commented, earning a glare from Minho.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Just that, she's so...... Cheerful and loud, in a good way of course. And you're just gloomy and boring. " Seungmin nonchalantly added like it was a fact everyone knew. Minho gave him a somewhat offensive side eye.

"Yeah. I've seen her interviews, she's really cute and lively. Like a sunshine!" Felix added, which sparked a lightbulb above Jisung's head.

"Sunshine?! Is that why you have a sunshine bracelet?! Is it a couple's one? Oh my god!!" Jisung's exaggeration made a few laughs and a few rolled their eyes," which one does she have?! A star?! A moon?!"

"A moon. " Minho replied.

"Do you have a picture together?" Jeongin asked, ignoring the shocked Jisung beside him.

"I think so. " Minho said, unlocking his phone to search for a picture of both of you.

"Hate to chime in but are we allowed to date right now?" Seungmin cut in. All of them looked at him with a glare that said 'not now'. But he just shrugged.

"The dating ban is actually lifted for us. " Chan started," but the fan's reaction may not be very pleasant. Plus, she has her own fans. I heard they are quite protective."

"Who knows you might end up bald and jobless like the last guy she had dating scandal with" Seungmin added, snickering like it was the funniest joke he had ever heard.

"Shut up now Seungmin," Hyunjin said, nudging him by the shoulder," Hyung, tell us about her more. "

"Is she the reason you started drinking coffee too?" Jisung once again questioned, earning a nod from Minho.

"I think so," Minho recalled," we actually met at a coffee shop. " "So, love at first sight?" Felix asked, making a heart sign. Minho shook his head and looked straight ahead. Lost in thought. "It wasn't exactly love at first sight but something similar. The first time we spoke, I felt it. An ache, like a little electric burn. I felt my life change. " "Fate, huh. 'Cause what the heck were you doing in a coffee shop if you don't drink one?" Changbin questioned.

"I don't know. I just felt like I had to go there. Something was so alluring. " "Cringe. " Jeongin snarked. "You seem happier, though," Seungmin stated, others nodded along with him," In the last 6 months, you really changed. "

"Yeah, I haven't gotten any threats to be put in the air fryer in a while. " Hyunjin remarked, making the others laugh including Minho. "I can do that now if you want, Hyunjin. " "No, I'm good, actually." "Is no one gonna come to the fact that my husband has been cheating on me for the last 6 months?" Jisung interject. "Well, (Y/n) is actually very similar to you, Hannie. She is, in fact, just like you. She stuffs her face with food and she fall asleep anywhere. She sucks at cooking too. " Minho mentioned. "Are you saying she has all my bad qualities?" "Bad? No way, she's literally perfect. Those are cute qualities. You should've seen your faces when you're passes out on the chair." "It's to die for." Changbin added.

"So, you're not leaving me?" Jisung asked, pouting. "As long as we're in the same group, I'll have to be with you even if I don't wan to. " "So I'm still your baby?" "You were never my baby!"

"Stop it, you guys! It's disgusting," Jeongin coughed," But, we'd like to meet (y/n). " "Yeah, call her here! " Felix exclaimed after he was done listening to all of them. "Yeah, I want her autograph!" Hyunjin added earning some side eyes from others ," what? like you don't have all her summer collection too, Seungmin" "What? shut up!" Seungmin blushed having his secret revealed. "I think I'll ask her. " Minho said. "She really did changed you, huh Minho?" Bang Chan giggled, seeing Minho's cheeks turn red. "OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh~~~~~," Changbin sang," I see someone is blushing, huh~~~~"

The other members upon hearing that, looked at their Hyung with the same teasing smirk and started to tease him. "Minho hyung seemed a lot happier, right?" Jisung said, watching others tease Minho. "Yeah. I can't wait to meet (y/n). She must be so special. " Bang Chan agreed. "I still didn't agreed to sharing him, though. " "WhAT?"

#fluff #skz #lee know #skz x reader #skz imagines #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho #dating #kpop #fanfic #x reader #reaction #skz fluff #skz stay #skz scenario

248 notes · View notes

bigfatbreak · 6 months

Note

I see a lot of people talking about what Chloé and Kim did, and I think I'm missing something? What did they do?

In a more recent episode "Derision," (sloppy sum up below)

its discovered that the reason Marinette is so stunted, awkward, and generally staccato about dating Adrien in spite of genuinely liking him, is because she was a major victim of Chloe's the year prior. During that year, Chloe threatened anyone who would attempt to befriend her, isolating Marinette completely, only having a friend in a girl named Socqueline who would relentlessly defend her.

At the time, Marinette had a crush on Kim, and so Chloe, knowing Kim loves pranks, had him "prank" her at the pool as a fake confession. As Kim offered a fake, heartfelt confession in return for Marinette's own, he gifted Marinette a box full of spiders, causing her to flip out and fall into the pool from the high end. Sabine and Chloe were filming the whole thing, and planned on posting it on social media to openly mock her. The only thing stopping them is Socqueline, who legitimately kicks the phone out of Chloe's hands.

This leads into why Marinette is so bad at confessions. After a year of being harassed, bullied, and isolated, she takes a chance on love, and is only horrifically and publicly mocked. Her attitude towards Adrien makes more sense with this context - deeply and passionately loving him, but constantly hesitating on the last step, as last time was so devastating. She's got some severe trauma around confessing and connecting with love interests, as she assumes they're always going to mock her in the end.

I really wish this episode had been planned earlier in the series, because it DOES give good insight as to how bad Marinette had it, and would've been great context for the audience. Not long after, Socqueline had to move away, too, so Marinette had to rebuild her entire social network from the ground up, with several people in the class who didn't mind humiliating her for their own amusement.

Also I really liked Chat Noir/Adrien going sicko mode on Kim. PLEASE kill that boy Adrien. I am BEGGING YOU. He tries to cataclysm Kim in the fucking face. I was thrilled. I thrive off negativity

Using this as groundwork in the dad villain au, having all that shit happen to Marinette alongside losing Sabine essentially made her go "wow I am going to quit school and work at my dad's business. bye" which is super ironic because that is ALL gabriel wants adrien to do lmao

#replies #a sum up bc a lot of my audience hasnt watched the newer eps #and in their defense neither have i hfffhfhf #okay i skim them but i work full time #its hard finding the minutes to spare

778 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 6 months

Text

kinktober : oct 19th

modern!anakin x phone sex

anakin wasn’t really one for phone sex. if he wanted you, he’d drive the distance just to have you squirming beneath him — but sometimes, life happens. in this case, you were on vacation with your friends, and you could feel yourself growing needy.

it had only been a few days and you’d missed him. you were having a great time with your friends, sipping cocktails and hanging around all day in a bikini, but seeing couples at the beach, canoodling in the ocean together would occasionally etch a pout onto your face, wishing you had your own man here with you.

you’d said goodnight to your friends four nights in, a little tipsy from the hotel cocktail bar, skin warm from being in the sun all day. you finally reenter your lone hotel room and lock the door, readying yourself for your nightly bedtime phone call. he’s an hour or so behind, so he’s usually a lot more awake than you are.

it doesn’t take long for the conversation to shift, only one thing on your mind.

it starts when you’re forwarding the pictures you took that day across to him, images appearing on his screen of you looking soft and touchable in your bikini, the colour glowing against your skin — and if you squint, nipples pebbles beneath the triangle bra.

“pretty baby. that’s a nice bikini.” you hear the smile in his voice when he receives them. at the praise, and the remaining alcohol still buzzing around your body you snuggle down further into the bed, biting your lip feeling warm and affectionate. you can hear him moving about his room, perhaps tidying or looking for something and you close your eyes, trying to imagine him at home.

“wish you were here to take it off me.” you groan quietly, and you hear his movement stop — a few seconds of silence as he registers your mood. after a beat, he speaks with a slow smile and something of a cautious tone.

“you feeling good, sweet girl? you had a lot to drink tonight?” he questions, never wanting to take advantage.

“not a lot, i swear — i just miss you ani… and i miss your…” you cut yourself to giggle, not quite brave enough yet to say something so vulgar. you can practically hear the amused expression in his tone when he retaliates, and you hear the bed creak as he drops back onto it, halting his tasks to focus on you.

“miss my what? go on.”

you bite your tongue to stifle your giggle before responding. “miss your cock.” you brave, wedging your fingernail into your mouth. he relaxes, taking control of the situation as usual.

“yeah?” he cooes before tsking at you through the phone. “on vacation with your friends and all you can think about is getting dicked down? c’mon baby, what would they think?” he pretends to scold you and you roll onto your front, feeling your body get hot in embarrassment at the fake scolding regardless. you whine into the pillow before lifting your head to respond.

“its not like thaaaat, i just keep seeing couples at the beach and… s’not fair— just want you to be here so you can pull my bikini bottoms to the side in the ocean and — and no one would have to know—”

“shh, shh— alright baby. gonna work yourself up.” he chuckles, adjusting himself in his grey sweatpants he was just lounging in at home. “are you laying on your back for me?” he soothes and you huff, breathing suddenly a little shaky as you roll back to where you were facing the ceiling.

“mhm.”

“good girl.” he speaks slowly, giving your body time to react. you sigh hard at the praise, melting into the hotels bedsheets. a little whimper leaves you, but you’re unsure of whether or not the mic picks it up. “are you wearing anything?” he knows he’s greedy, but he’s already palming himself a little.

“no, just had a shower and got on the bed when i came back to my room.” you huff, eager to get to the good stuff.

“mm,” he thinks. “i think it’s a good thing i didn’t come on this trip, y’wanna know why?”

“why?”

“because the room next door would be making complaints to the reception about our headboard banging against their wall all night. all your friends would find out they invited their sweet little friends nasty boyfriend along just for him to fuck her silly every night. would be so embarrassing for you, baby.” he speaks so softly, so sympathetically your stomach twists and pussy aches.

“ani.” you whine, fisting at the sheets squeezing your thighs together. you don’t even think about touching yourself yet, it’s so ingrained in your brain that you need direct permission.

“dont tell me that’s making you horny, pretty girl.” he smiles wide, pretending to be scandalised. you wished he’d stop teasing you, but at the same time you enjoyed every moment. “am i getting that pretty pussy all wet? hmm?”

“mhm, want you to… ugh.” you sigh in frustration. luckily, he finishes the sentence for you instead of forcing you to repeat yourself coherently.

“want me to come and fuck it? wish i could baby, wish i could. we’re gonna have to make do tonight, think you can do that?” he asks like you’re dumb and you nod for a few seconds before realising he can’t see you.

“mhm, yes.”

“thats my clever girl. want you to spit on your fingers, can you do that now?” he directs and you waste no time, bringing your pointer, middle, and ring finger to your lips and drooling on them sloppily. you make a noise to signify it’s done, and he speaks again. “open up those legs for me and rub yourself just like i do. can you remember how i do it?” he speaks calmly, tugging his sweatpants down and letting his cock spring up against his stomach, spitting in his own hand.

“i think so.”

“i think you can too. you’re my smart girl, remember?” he praises and you shudder, doing as he says. you bring your wet fingers to your clit and hump against them, spreading your saliva through your folds and mixing it with your arousal. you whimper, and wince through your teeth. “yeah? how’s that baby? talk to me.”

“feels nice. not as nice as your fingers.” you comment wistfully, wet noises filling the room as you stroke your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i know, sweetheart. it’s not gonna be.” he hums, fisting at himself as he listens to you moan and breathe, deciding to help you along a little more. “you wanna know what i’d be doing if i was there with you?” he offers and you jerk against your own hand, already growing sensitive from your need.

“tell m-me.”

“please.”

“please.” you correct.

“well, i’d have your knees up by your chest, have you on your back letting me do all the work just like i know you like it. just slowly fucking you deep like that, letting you feel that little bulge in your tummy. remember the first time i made that happen, beautiful? had you crying and soaking me so fast, was so sweet.” he reminisces and you speed your movements, panting as you grow more desperate.

“want that so bad!”

“only a few more days and you can have it. you gonna try and put some fingers in now, baby?”

of course, you do as you’re told.

requested tags : @hanasnx @jellydodger

#modern!anakin smut #modern!anakin #modern!anakin drabble #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin au #kinktober 2023

534 notes · View notes

imgoingtofreakoutnow · 7 months

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 1

Summary: After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: it's really just a fluffy thing, lots of pining, they're both touch-starved

A/N: I wrote this a while back and it's not too bad, so enjoy! Here you can find Part 2 (@tripleyeeet you know this already but enjoy still! also, @yn-ymn-yln you might like this)

\_/

The day was slowly fading into the night as the fire of the camp stretched towards the burning sky.

It had been a weirdly uneventful day: you had wandered around without a real aim or purpose all day, mostly enjoying the view than actively looking for more loot. You still managed to stumble across a couple of lonely barrels and chests, gaining nothing really useful other than a well-crafted dagger with neat gold details in the handle.

Your companions were nowhere to be seen, probably drinking in the village nearby or resting in their tents or simply enjoying the company of somebody else.

As you sat alone next to the fire, sketching a bird roaming a few feet away and looking for food in the grass, you didn’t really mind a chance to enjoy your own company.

“There you are!”

The bird flew away in a ruffle of feathers when Astarion’s voice rumbled in the small clearing your camp was set in.

“I thought you had joined the others at the tavern,” he said, plopping down behind you with a tired sigh.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for drinking…” you mumbled with a shrug, your hand jotting down the last details of the bird before they left your brain, “or being among other people.”

“I better hope you don’t mind my company.”

His head popped over your shoulder, but you didn’t raise your gaze from the drawing, too focused shading the charcoal with your finger than giving in to his egotistical nature.

“You know I don’t,” you assured, blowing away the excess black dust from the parchment, “but you did make my model fly away.”

Astarion scanned silently the small sketchbook still open in your hands from behind your shoulder. You could feel his breath brushing your ear, creating a web of shivers that ran one after the other along your spine.

“Look at that.” His fingers reached for your drawing. You held your breath as they hovered over the dark and slightly smudged lines. “I had no idea we had such a talented artist within our group.”

“I’m not that good,” you scoffed with a smile, turning your head ever so slightly towards his, “but thank you.”

“However,” he continued, scratching thoughtfully his chin, “you could definitely use a better model.”

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together before clicking your tongue. “You’re right, I should ask Gale to pose for me.”

“Gale?!”

“Or Shadowheart,” you added, ignoring his insulted tone. “Her features are so soft, perfect for a portrait.” You met his eyes with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, pulling back and leaning on his arms. “I suppose she could be a decent model, but I don’t see her around to be sketched.”

You snorted, turning around on your seat to face his narrow scarlet eyes.

“Oh, is my annoyance amusing to you?”

“If you wanted me to sketch you so badly,” you started, turning to a blank page of your sketchbook, “you could’ve simply asked.”

Astarion stared at you for a second, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide in surprise. Those were the small expressions that you loved more about him: those seconds in between, where his facade broke for a moment, revealing something so brief that simply couldn’t be faked.

Then he cleared his throat and his mask of smugness covered his face once again, annihilating whatever real emotion that had made its appearance on his features. “If you insist, darling.”

He laid down on the grass, propping himself up with his elbow. His head rested on his closed fist, tilted as his half-lidded gaze was stuck on you. “So, how do you want me?”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. No matter how many times he looked at you like that or his words tickled your brain with lewd thoughts, Astarion always managed to stir something in your guts; a pull you couldn’t always ignore, especially when you were completely alone.

“You can just sit up,” you assured him, breaking away from his eyes to sharpen your pencil. “I’m not that good of an artist to draw you like that,” you explained a moment later, pointing at the relaxed —and obviously thought-out— position he was in.

“As you wish.”

Surprisingly, Astarion immediately followed your request, sitting back up with not even one objecting word.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, leaning towards you, “if anatomy is the department you lack, I’ll be more than happy to aid you with your… sketches.” A devilish grin appeared on his face as his hand moved in the air with his words. “In every position you might ever need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your calm voice and mischievous grin, almost mirroring Astarion’s, were in no way a faithful reflection of the turmoil storming your chest and mind.

“Now stay still,” you told him, your focus slowly shifting to the drawing as you started laying down the first few guiding lines.

“I’ll be as immovable as a rock, darling.”

“And silent,” you mumbled, your eyes darting from the page to Astarion’s slightly vexed expression.

Astarion noticed your frowning, however he had no time to articulate the question on the tip of his tongue that you had leaned in. Your hand reached out hesitantly, almost waiting for him to pull away or shoving you back in an instinctive reaction. But he didn’t.

You gently grabbed his chin, guiding his face slightly to the side. Then your thumb moved to the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing away the crease of irritation altering his features. You could feel the tension in his muscles give away under your touch, any resistance crumbling under your fingertips.

“There,” you whispered, admiring the calm expression on Astarion’s face. “Can you stay like that for a while?”

“Of course, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke. There was a sudden softness to him, one that you had never seen for longer than the blink of an eye. It was almost overwhelming, even after you had lowered your gaze to work on the small portrait.

Your pencil, guided by your hand, moved quickly on the page. You didn’t really need to look at Astarion to sketch him. His cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his features had long been carved in your mind.

If he had taken the sketchbook —as you feared he was going to— when he appeared next to you, he would’ve found pages and pages covered in quick and small drawings of him. Studies of his face, hair, hands; whatever your mind could recall accurately.

Nonetheless, there was always something that you never managed to get exactly right.

You moved your gaze from the page, studying closely his eyes and the ever-changing glint behind them as you tried to recreate it with charcoal and parchment. An impossible task that made you sigh more loudly than you expected.

“I can almost smell your brain fuming, darling.”

You put down the pencil, straightening your spine and stretching your sore neck. You scrunched your eyes, exhausted of drawing in the dim and shifting light of the flames.

“Is it done?”

When you opened your eyes, Astarion was subtly peering over the page, the smug grin on his face unable to hide his nervous anticipation.

“I think so,” you mumbled, shading one last detail before staring critically at your creation. As you looked at it, you noticed so many details out of place: a line too straight, a curl too twirly, a shadow too dark…

“It could be better,” you said apologetically as you handed the sketchbook to your model, “but I hope you like it.”

Hesitantly, almost as if the book was made of fire, Astarion took it.

He stared at your drawing for a long time, his fingers following the charcoal lines and then looking for those same shapes on his face. A small shaky breath left his lips as his fingertips moved on his neck, brushing the scars of the bite.

“I had never seen them on me before,” he whispered, scoffing slightly as his hand fell back on the drawing.

“I actually drew them a bit too high,” you explained, pointing at the sketch with your smudged fingertips. “And the nose is too straight, and it’s all a bit of a mess-”

Your voice was cut off when Astarion took your hand in his. Before you could utter another syllable, he brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Nonsense, darling. You’ve given me a mirror in which I will always be able to see myself.”

He kissed the inner part of your wrist, his eyes locked in yours as his teeth grazed your veins. “How will I ever be able to repay you for this?”

“You don’t have to.” Ignoring your burning skin, you squeezed gently Astarion’s hand in yours as his eyebrows shot up. “I did this for you and you only. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Astarion still looked at you with a puzzled expression while you took your sketchbook out of his grip, took the short dagger hidden in your boot and carefully cut the page with his portrait out of it.

“This is yours,” you said handing him the rough sheet of parchment, “and it should’ve never been taken from you in the first place.”

As if he was handling the smallest and frailest animal, Astarion accepted the page in his hand, his wide eyes still marveling at the way your lines came together to recreate him.

“I…”

For once, words failed him.

He looked up from the sketch and a million emotions crossed his face. Confusion and relief. Sadness and recognition. Fear and joy. And that softness, that overwhelming look empty of all the sharp edges that defined him every other moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing a shaky hand on your cheek. “I won’t forget it.”

That touch was alien to you.

It wasn’t the kind of touch that you had learned to expect from Astarion. It wasn’t sexual or teasing, anticipating a pleasure that he seemed always so eager to satisfy. It was gentle, hinting at an intimacy you had never dared to entertain, not even when you were falling asleep in your tent and your neck was still sore where his teeth had dug their way into your flesh.

His thumb moved slowly, hesitantly on your skin. You were both entering uncharted territories and you could do nothing more than being careful. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you always did, kissing softly his palm to let him know that you wanted it.

That you craved this intimacy, no matter how long you both needed to get there.

Some voices reached your ears —drunken and loud singing— and before you could make out who they belonged to, Astarion had already moved away, leaving your cheek to the cold touch of the night.

He quickly folded the drawing and put it away, giving you one last small smile before a smug grin bloomed on his face and removed every other emotion. He stood up and headed towards Gale and Wyll, the swaying owners of those voices that had just entered the camp.

As the crowd was becoming a little too much for your liking, you headed into your tent, falling with a sigh on your pillow. You could still hear the other three outside, but your mind was wandering far away, relishing in the memories of that night as you slowly fell asleep.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

579 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 2 months

Text

HAND ONE - HIGH CARD

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a duel is fought.

wc: 1.7k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, first meeting, touya's sass need its own warning

note: SURPRISE !! bet iris starting another series wasn't on your 2024 bingo (it wasn't on mine) but here we are! this whole series is based on this little idea from a few months back and will include swordfighting! fake dating! mutual pining! angst! balls! (the royal kind, not,,, yk) oh and many poker metaphors lol. hope you enjoy this first little exposition chapter :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

You would admire the spectacle of it all, had it not been for the aching pain in your feet.

The hand-me-down heels from your estranged stepmother made it hard to focus on anything but your breathing as you tried to steady yourself against a nearby column in the palace garden. You could practically hear her shrill screaming in your ears for not doing enough to network among the other young nobles, for failing to present yourself as fit for bearing children you didn’t want. As the people you’d grown up with since birth milled about carefully-tended roses and large-bloomed peonies, you couldn’t imagine how they weren’t sweating all their caked-on makeup off in the stifling June heat. Fishing the lacy hand fan from your clutch, you relocate to a shadier side of the column under the stone walkway lining the garden. An aggressive snap echoes off nearby walls when you flick it open and sigh when the air hits your face.

“You stole my spot,” comes a smooth male voice from the other side of the column. You don’t think the person is talking to you, but then you hear an amused snicker and a small thank you to who you assume is a passing servant. It’s awkwardly silent except for faraway conversations and the breeze blown from your fan until the man clears his throat. “I’m holding out a water to you, if you would kindly look over your shoulder.” Slightly irritated by the condescending tone in his voice, you look and, sure enough, there was a cold glass of water in the stranger’s white-gloved hand. You couldn’t see his face, nor the rest of his body, but something in your gut told you that it was safe. And, if it did happen to be poisoned, at least it got you out of another season. Carefully taking the glass from his long fingers, most of the tension in your body leaves after the first few sips slide down your throat. “Refreshing?”

“Very,” you answer cordially, in that airy tone your stepmother taught you. She said it was a fine way to attract suitors, which made you want to drop your voice several octaves whenever a potential husband drew near. “Thank you. That was very kind of you, Mister…?”

“My identity is irrelevant,” he says quickly and you turn your head in his direction, as if to hear him better. “Nor will I ask of yours, so consider this conversation akin to speaking to a wall.”

“From my perspective, I am speaking to a wall,” you point out and the stranger chuckles under his breath. “May I ask why you aren’t socializing with the others?”

“I could ask the same of you, considering that you’re cowering behind a column.” The jab was evident. Your mouth drops in indignancy and, had it not been for heat exhaustion and your nice spot in the shade, you would have decked whoever was on the other side of this conversation.

“I am not cowering,” you huff, taking another sip and willing the temperature to decrease just a few degrees. “I am merely…taking a break.”

“Taking a break where no one else can find you? For ten minutes?”

“A woman values her privacy,” you argue. “And as far as I’m aware, you were able to find me quite easily. Perhaps you were the one trying to hide, and I was the one who stole your spot.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you are stealing from me.”

“Space in this garden is not something to be claimed unless you are of the royal family, dear stranger.” You hope he can hear the smirk in your tone.

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine.”

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine,” you echo in a nasally, mocking voice that would have placed you in major trouble if your parents knew how you were addressing others. “Cease your bratty ramblings as if you own this palace.” The man barks out a laugh, a reaction you didn’t anticipate. It makes your heart race a little faster, in spite of your will to stay casual.

“Have suitors ever told you that you’re quite the firecracker?”

“Bold of you to assume they get as far as to speak with me,” you correct without hesitation. Presentations were one of the stupidest parts of your present society, along with those tiny sandwiches and that tea that tastes like boiled shoes. “If they decide to pursue me, that’s their first mistake.” The stranger hums in a low tone.

“Maybe you haven’t found the right suitor, then,” he muses and, before you can answer, the royal bugles announce the beginning of the duels. Excited cheers and the clicking sound of heels on pavement take over any remaining conversations. You whirl around to the other side of the column, anxious to see the mysterious man you were conversing with, but find the other side as vacant as when you first passed it. Slightly disappointed, you find your place along the perimeter of the circular stone courtyard and wait for the king’s advisor to speak.

“Today is a day of celebration,” he begins, and you mutter the rest of his speech that you’d heard for the past four years under your breath. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and instinct tells you that someone was watching you, but you can’t find who it is among the hundreds of people present. You think you’ve found the culprit when you lock your gaze with a pair of strikingly blue eyes, but they disappear before you can identify the rest of the person. “And, as you are most likely already aware, this year we welcome His Highness Prince Touya Todoroki to the presentation ceremonies. Though he is of a royal family, those that wish to court or be courted by His Highness may present themselves as suitors as they ordinarily would.”

“And will the Prince grace us with his esteemed presence, or is he preoccupied with his ordinarily outlandish activities?” Sneers and snide remarks ripple through the crowd and the advisor struggles to regain their attention. That is, until that same loud barking laugh that you heard from the other side of the column cuts through the murmurs and mutters.

The voice that follows makes your blood run cold in your veins.

“How bold to assume any of you are worthy of breathing in my presence.”

“Your Highness–”

“Shut up,” he spits, shivers spreading over your skin as the crowd splits to reveal an unruly mass of spiked white hair. His eyes are paralyzingly bright, cold and narrow while they scan the vermin before him. The rumors that circulated of his intimidating nature paled in comparison to the man before you, tall and lean and radiating the most dangerous aura you’d ever come across. All the previously gloating eyes became that of rabbits hunted by a wolf when they came under his gaze…except for yours. By some odd stroke of Fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen the Prince before, even though that was physically impossible. Maybe you’d passed another white-haired asshole in the market. “Well? Are we starting or shall you keep gawking until I staple your jaw shut?” The advisor stumbles, shrinking away like a mouse in a lion’s den.

“Yes, Your Highness. May the first Lady to be courted please step forward!”

As the gowns start to swoop and the swords begin to swing, you’re again reminded of just how unnecessary the spectacle of presentation season always was. One by one, daughters of nobility presented themselves to the suitors, who would then step forward and duel one another for the opportunity to court the Lady. The fights were never to the death, of course, but the shame that came with losing more than one duel was close to it; nothing was more embarrassing, however, than having no suitors step forward when a Lady presented herself. It was your worst fear every season, one that you seemingly didn’t need to worry about this time around.

Still, you were met with the same pasty-faced suitor that had been attempting to win your hand for the past several seasons. He’d accumulated significantly more muscle mass since the previous season, but his hot-headed temper and objectifying tendencies were enough of a turn off to send him packing by the end of the first meeting.

“You have rejected me time and time again, but that only makes you more enticing,” he declares, offering his hand to you while you roll your eyes behind your fan. Ladies who already received their matches swoon at his show of masculinity, but it only makes your stomach turn. “I will win you. That is my promise. And, if not this season, then the next, and I will persevere until the only eyes you look for in a room are mine.”

“The only thing I would be looking for in a room with you is an exit,” you mutter. He doesn’t answer, eyeing you like you were a wise investment. Gross.

“You’d do well to accept me.” Your attention darts upward and you meet his stare, irritated at your lack of a response. The volume of his voice drops so that only you two can hear it as he comes to stand inches away from your face. “It’s not like you have the privilege of other options. Marry me or life as a spinster is your only future.”

“I wouldn’t marry you if the entire kingdom was at stake,” you hiss and his mouth turns up in a snarl, ready to bite out a response when the shing! of a sword being pulled from its sheath echoes through the courtyard. A quiet verbal commotion sets into the crowd, but you’re unable to see anything beyond the asshole before you.

"Your business is with me, not her," warns a dangerously familiar voice and the man in front of you stiffens. "Let's get this over with."

“The…ahem…duel will begin once both suitors are in first positions,” the advisor relays with great hesitation. You’d never experienced a duel for your hand, yet it seemed that another man had been dealt into the game. With his face drained of its remaining color, Pasty-face draws his blade like an inexperienced marionette, clunky and jagged, as he takes his place in the circle, allowing you to catch the eye of his opponent, molten blue eyes that make your knees turn gelatinous. The prince was dueling for your hand.

Prince Touya of the Todoroki family was dueling for your hand.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #touya x you #touya x reader #touya x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

228 notes · View notes

gaiathemexicanbeauty · 6 months

Note

your latest mike fic actually has me squealing stop. can you please write something cute about him for the festive season? i don’t mind how long it is, i just wanna cuddle into his itchy christmas sweater and eat gingerbread and drink hot chocolate and watch love actually (despite him insisting he’ll hate it)

mr. grinch | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 904

warnings: none! this is just some nice little christmas fluff for the holidays! thanksgivingdoesnotexisttomeok

all of you are keeping me so well fed, any time i see a mike request, i have to take a second to get excited

he is probably such a grinch, he is so dear to me

I LOOOVE writing christmas stuff, i hope that this did the holiday justice

mike sighs tiredly when he finally enters his house, about to announce his arrival before stopping in his tracks. he closes the door behind him as he knocks some of the snow off of his shoes, eyeing the rest of the house with an almost comedic sort of suspicion: he swore the house hadn't been this festive when he left.

his once dull looking living room was littered with boxes, ropes of garland and tinsel peeking out of some them. the most noticeable thing, however, is the obvious christmas tree in the corner of the room that remains undecorated. the kitchen seems to be the most decorated for now, a quaint centerpiece in the middle of the table and some christmas lights hanging on one end of the room. mike looks up when he hears footsteps from down the hall, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the sweaters he sees on you and abby who is following behind you. your sweater is decorated with all kinds of red, white, and green patterns, a cat poking its head out of a stocking on the front of it. abby's sweater is less in your face, a deep blue with various colored christmas lights decorated onto it.

"you're back! how was work?" you say with a sweet smile, putting down the box in your arms to pull mike into an embrace that he gladly accepts. "same as always, boring. did you do..?" mike says with a smile, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the rest of the house. "WE decorated the house." "oh, yeah?" mike says with another smile, letting abby take his hand and lead him over to the living room. "we wanted to do the christmas tree with you. i'm gonna put my ornament from school, you put on your sweater." abby says, not missing a beat as she hands mike a sweater hanging off the couch and running back to her room. you give mike a knowing smile as you lean against the couch, watching him unfold the sweater: the colors are the same as yours but have a cartoonishly decorated christmas tree on it. almost immediately, he lets out a laugh of disbelief. "no way."

"oh my god, where's your christmas spirit?" you giggle as mike shakes his head, already trying to abandon the sweater that you're trying to put back in his hands. "you and abby have enough christmas for the three of us, thank you very much." he says as you hold the sweater up against him, scrunching your nose at him playfully. the two of you have a moment of silence, looking at each other expectantly to see who will break first: you, of course, have no shame at all. "pleeease? for abby? and totally not for my own enjoyment?" you say as you bat your eyelashes at mike, folding the jacket over your arm so that you can cup his face in your hands. his eyes remain focused on yours and seemingly uninterested despite the smile tugging at his lips, your hands squeezing and pinching his cheeks in an effort to further crumble his resolve. "for me?" mike looks over at abby standing in the hallway with a sheepish smile, giving her a look that says 'really?'. when the two of you nod at him with fake-innocent looks, he lets out a sigh before giving a defeated yet amused "fine."

and with that defeat, mike is wrapped up in christmas festivities for the rest of the night. abby insists on everything there is despite how little time it takes for her to get tired; it's only 10:00 pm by the time you and mike are sitting on the couch, your legs hung over his lap and his hand rubbing slow circles into your back. quiet christmas music plays in the background, your cheek rested against his shoulder as you bring your mug of hot chocolate to your lips. "tree turn out alright for you?" mike mumbles softly as he looks over at the now decorated tree, making you smile warmly as you nod. "yeah. it's perfect. abby's ornament really ties the whole thing together." you say with a soft laugh, looking over at the small angel that was nearly in the center of the tree. "thank you, by the way. for all this, i mean. we don't do this all the time." you smile up at mike when he looks at you, his hand moving from your back to your hair, brushing it away from your face as your cheeks redden.

you press your forehead against his, feeling your heart start to soar in your chest: before you can get closer, you gasp softly as a thought comes to your mind. "wait!" mike watches you scramble away to the kitchen for a moment before you come back with something cupped in your hand: as soon as he sees the mistletoe, mike can't help the laugh that leaves him. "hey, don't laugh! not only are you going to wake up abby but you're also not embracing the spirit of christmas." you say with a fake tone of pride, making mike roll his eyes. "so you're saying that christmas is-" before mike can even finish his thought, you close the gap between the two of you with a giggle against his lips, knocking the two of you backwards on the couch as a grunt of surprise leaves mike.

I WAS SOOOO GIGGLY WRITING ALL THIS, thank you anon for requesting this right after laufy dropped several christmas songs

I HOPE THAT TO ANON, THAT YOU ENJOYED THIS AND THAT IT MADE YOU GIGGLE AS MUCH AS THE LAST ONE I WROTE

i hope to everyone reading this that you all also enjoyed this and are having a good rest of your day/night/afternoon! :3

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #oneshot #x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

316 notes · View notes

muzansslxt · 2 months

Text

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

tojixreader

Summary: Toji doesn’t care abt your feelings but he’s not dealing with a brat >:(

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

This was getting annoying, you angrily turned your phone face down on the bed and huffed. How could he keep doing this? Walking in and out of your life as he pleases, not a care in the world for how your feeling.

Toji wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to be tied down to just one woman, no he wanted to be free to fuck whoever he’d like.

Your eyes began to water just at the thought of him pressing another woman into his mattress.

The two of you had began a bad habit of breaking up and getting back together, this was now the third time he had randomly began messaging you only to leave you on delivered for hours or days on end.

“I don’t get what you’re crying about, I’m a busy man.” He’d say any time you brought it up to him.

Men fucking suck. You thought to yourself while wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands.

You had tried so bad to forget him, to just move on, but he always seemed to slip his way back into your heart, and your pussy.

A rough knock on your apartment door jarred you from your thoughts, heart beating wildly as you approached the door.

You knew that knock from anywhere.

“What.” You snapped as you opened the door, sure enough Tojis hulking figure filled the doorway as he looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“Well hello to you too. Brat.” He grumbled, easily shoving his way past you to get inside.

Shutting the door you turned and folded your arms “I’d like to know where you get off ignoring my messages and calls, then waltz in MY apartment like you own it.”

Toji had already began rooting around your fridge and turned his head slightly to look at you, eyes amused. “I get off knowing I own you y/n. No matter how long I don’t see you, or talk to you, I know you want me to come back.”

You felt your cheeks begin to burn, “Fuck you Toji, and get out of my fridge. Unlike you I work for what I want.”

He sighed heavily and straightened himself before snagging a take out container for himself, “Y’know I’ve been pretty patient with your whole attitude problem lately but you’re gettin on my last fucken nerve.” He murmured while digging into the cold food.

You scoffed, this fucking guy.

You easily slapped the container of food out of Tojis hands, its contents spilling onto the floor and glared up at him intensely “You treat me like a fucking doormat. And you think you can get away with it?” You spat, anger slowly filling your senses.

Toji stood calmly for a moment, almost measuring you up like he’d strike you but cracked the smallest, arrogant smirk you’d ever seen.

“Let’s fix this hm?” He said while walking towards you, to which you proceeded to back away.

“No, get out Toji.” You say while retreating from him further into the apartment until he had you in the doorway of your bedroom.

Even to your own ears, it sounded fake. You didn’t really want him to leave and he damn well knew it.

Tilting your chin up he leaned down, dark eyes staring into yours with burning intensity before kissing you sweetly.

You leaned into the kiss hungrily, your body constantly ached for his touch and responded just as well.

Pulling back Toji hummed, he slowly swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and watched with a pleased expression as you gently sucked on it, looking up at him with those needy eyes.

“Still want me to get out?” He purred before pushing you back onto the bed, and moving on top of you.

You shook your head breathlessly, your panties were already soaked and your cunt throbbed painfully with its desire to be filled.

“That’s what I thought.” He murmured smugly before taking no time at all to undress you as well as himself, it seemed like he was in just as much need of you as you were him.

His cock was thick and hard with lust, already drooling pre cum from his twitching tip.

“Toji.” You whined softly while reaching up for him, fingers gently running through his dark hair and slowly arching your body up into his.

He huffed a small laugh and easily flipped you onto your belly “What? You think I’d forget your bitch fit and fuck you nice and sweet? Brats don’t get what they want sweetheart.” He said smoothly before propping your ass up.

You whined again and let your head fall into your pillow, already knowing this hulk of a man was going to enjoy punishing you.

“M’sorry.” You say softly while squeezing your eyes shut knowing your apology would fall on deaf ears.

Toji eyed up the round globes of your ass and shamelessly spread you so he could see exactly what he wanted. Your drooling pussy, ready to welcome his cock in a warm hug.

“Tell me how sorry you are.” He cooed while leaning over you, his arms firmly caged your hips in so you simply had no where to go. You couldn’t escape the full length of him, like you usually did.

Your body tensed, sensing what he was about to do and cried out as he pushed himself deep into your pussy, groaning as your walls hugged him tightly, the warm gushy feeling of your pussy made his balls clench. No pussy could compare to yours.

“H-ho..Toji.” You moaned out, squirming your hips desperately as he began to thrust into you at a fast and unforgiving pace.

Gasping out and babbling nonsense not even you could decipher, Tojis cock plunged deeper inside you than you’d ever felt, that thick prominent vein on the underside of his dick rubbed deliciously against your walls.

“Cmon baby, use your big girl words hm? I know you can do it.” He murmured lowly, rutting himself into you even faster, his balls slapping your clit adding to the head spinning euphoria coursing through your body.

“Hnngh..ha-ha..fuck.” You choke out before Toji roughly gripped your hair, scalp going hot with his sudden force and pulled your head back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself y/n.”

“I-I’m sorr- h-hooh, sorry hah I’m sorry” You whimpered while tears streaked your cheeks “M’so..so sorry baby.”

Toji let his painful grip on your hair go and grunted in satisfaction before giving your ass a slap for good measure.

“You gunna stop bein a brat from now on?” He asked lowly while his hips began to stutter. Giving away how close to his release he was.

You nodded fast while whimpering in pleasure as he began to stroke along that sweet little spot inside of you, he slapped your ass again and grunted as you squeezed around him, sucking his dick deeper into your greedy pussy.

“Words doll, use em.” He huffed while gripping your ass tightly.

“Yes, oh god, mmh..I’ll stop baby..h-hoo fuck.” You moaned out, curling your toes as the knot in your belly began to unwind itself.

“Gunna cum for me?” He growled low in your ear, his breath coming out in puffs. God if he didn’t know any better he’d think his dick was melting.

“M-mhm, oh Toji” You gasp out, cunt squeezing Tojis dick which in return twitched inside of you and was quick to release its load inside.

“Fuck.” He hissed, giving a few more sharp thrusts to fuck the both of you through the orgasm.

As you lay there panting softly, your body full of tingles, a smile graced your face as you turned to look at Toji, who was already up getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” You asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Toji chuckled and leaned down to ruffle your hair before placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I’ll be back doll face, keep that attitude in check while I’m gone.” He purred, you felt your heart begin to drop.

When would you ever learn?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ��･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

A/N: hi guys!! My writings a little bit rusty but this was definitely not me self projecting xxx

#toji fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #fanfic #toji thirst #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #dilf toji #good lawd #i want him #smut fic #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader

211 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 3 months

Text

Danyal Al Ghul's missed potential - this kid is not gonna behave like his canon self if he's with the league of assassins until his late formative years, and my reasoning why

(feel free to take this all with a grain of salt this is just my thoughts on it, this is all mostly amusing to me and isn't trying to be negative towards anyone else)

similar to how i was talking about how danny growing up in crime alley would affect him, demon twin aus with danyal al ghul make me laugh a lot (affectionate) because... whose teaching danny to unlearn all the ecofascism he picked up from the league of assassins? whose teaching him to be kind? to be gentle? Not the LoA thats for certain.

(you could plausibly say Jazz but she's only 2 years older than Danny and do you really expect a fellow child to properly explain why X is wrong to another child and have it be 100% effective? i don't doubt it'd help to an extent, but not in the same way an adult explaining it would)

plus a ton of other things, like whose teaching him to value human life? not the LoA. Whose teaching him how to adjust to living with American society after he ends up with the Fentons when he's 8-9-10? Who teaches him that killing is wrong, whose enforcing that?

(not the Fentons if you're going the neglectful parent route, and Jazz can try but i really don't think Danny is going to listen to her, a stranger who isn't even part of his grandfather's league)

How do you teach a child to value human life when the greatest development window for that opportunity has closed and he's already formed his own opinions?

You're not gonna get a Danny whose exactly like his canon attitude if he's staying with the league during his formative years (0-8 years old). you're not. You could get someone LIKE it, potentially, or someone who has traces of it or is similar -- like danny's wit and jokes and sarcasm, and on some level his kindness. but you're not gonna have a carbon copy. Development doesn't work that way. "nature" can only do so much in the face of nurture.

If anything, it doesn't even have to be a major change -- in the league he cans till be kind, but it's probably going to manifest in a different way than what is considered normal. Tough love, for one. But there's gonna be something that affects him negatively. Why make him 'always good/kind' when you can make him a brat who develops into a kinder (if spikier than in canon) person?

TLDR: Danyal Al Ghul would not be like how he is in canon if he's with the league until his late formative years -- not without any lasting pr permanent impacts from the league at least. Missed potential to make him an absolute nightmare like damian was -- especially in his early years when he first arrived to the Fenton house.

(this doesn't apply to danyal al ghul aus where he's either given to the fentons as a baby/is reincarnated/etc. this is mostly aimed for danyal al ghul aus where he fakes his death at like, 7-10 and somehow ends up, personality-wise like his completely canon self by 14 without any differences.)

(and even then if he's five or four, or even three, he would still be traumatized and influenced by the league. he'll just have more time to adjust. the sooner he leaves the league the more likely he is to be like his canon self, but not like an exact copy)

(more under the cut)

Anyways what I'm saying is that there is prime missed Danyal al Ghul potential to make him an absolute NIGHTMARE to the Fentons however way he ends up with them, just like Damian was with the Waynes! Cuz why does Damian get all the fun? Danny got the same training and endoctrine as him! He is also an ex-assassin! Why is Danny the only one who is 'well adjusted and non-violent' hm? Hmm?

Why can't he also be mean, and stabby, and a total stuck-up in some way or another? Have fun with his characterization, its prime opportunity to play play-doh and clay with him! If he starts out as X how does he get the personality traits of Y, and thus become XY?

Like take this with a grain of salt if you will, but make him arrogant. Make him an asshole! Make him a bad person at first! Because he will be! He's the blood son of the batman and you mean to tell me that damian is the only one arrogant about it at first? Make him stabby and mean even at 14 when he's begun to chill out! Have fun with it! If he's with the Fentons at any point past the age of four or five then he's gonna be a nightmare to handle because he still remembers the league and his time there.

(and while it gives him more time to chill the hell out, his time at the league is still gonna leave an impact on him.)

also what im saying as well is have him and sam potentially get along like a house on FIRE. Again, Danny grew up under the views of an ecofascist cult and nobody to challenge those views to him until he got to amity park at whatever age in late formative years he was at. He could be about as intense or even MORE intense about environmental awareness/rights than Sam is!

(also him being supremely unimpressed with Sam's wealth. he gave up a palace in the mountains for this town. because that's funny to me - like let his past have more influence on him! it'll be fun!)

you could have a danny who doesn't kill but doesn't fully understand the value of human life because jazz is like two years older than him and isn't that good at explaining why people's lives are important. he won't kill but he's not morally opposed to it. there's very little chance he actually gets bullied at school because he nearly killed Dash the first time he tried anything.

Danny could have scars, physical ones, because its implied in multiple canon that training starts at toddling (my best bet is 3 at minimum and ~maybe~ 2 but only on the later side of 2. Good fucking luck getting any infant under 2 to do anything you ask, ESPECIALLY assassin training. They're gonna stick the weapon in their mouth sooner than they're gonna do katas. This is coming from a daycare teacher.)

there's more examples of how danny being at the league during his formative years would affect him, but those are just some of them. he could have a sword! An appreciation for weaponry and nature. Maybe he still speaks all shakespearan and formal, does he still make bodily threats to people? If Damian is still threatening people at 14 why can't danny?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #tldr danyal al ghul has a ton of missed potential of what his behavior would be like if he left the league mid-to-late formative years #this post is specifically directed towards those danyal al ghul posts where he ends up with the fentons when he's like. 8 #like great. who taught him to unlearn all of the LoA's programming #how is he exactly like he was in canon despite being with the LoA during his early childhood #source: i've taken multiple child development classes #this isnt to bash those aus at all its just me thinking its hilarious that danny would even remotely be like his canon personality #especially if he's in the league long enough for damian to remember him #like i love danyal al ghul aus i just think there's not enough being taken into account about how the league would permanently impact him #especially if he leaves later on in life #people are not ponds they are puddles of mud. if you drop a rock into it it's gonna change its shape #its also good creative exercises on how to flesh characters out better and better understand how things in a story may impact a character #good thought exercises with the additional bonus of making danny a violent gremlin like damian is #i dont wanna say this is bashing but i guess it is kinda a criticism on the writing in those aus because you’re telling me this had NO #affect on danny on his personality beyond just ‘oh league bad. league scary’?? cmonnn have some fun #like you mean to tell me that being a child assassin had no lasting impact on him or his personality?? like at all???#he doesnt have an ounce of self-importance/arrogance/anger like damian did?? like none of that *stuck?* he’s just the normal and sane #sibling right off the bat??? five years with the fentons turned him into a complete blankslate?? he has no lasting impact from the league??

176 notes · View notes

seniaasaysstuff · 7 months

Text

carnival date with toji🎡 toji fushiguro x fem!reader.

little drabble<3 toji is so babygirl

Toji fushiguro, your boyfriend wasn’t exactly the one who took you on cutesy dates so when he asked you on a carnival date? you were so damn excited. you spent hours just deciding the outfit, the way you were going to style your hair.

As you got into Toji's car, you felt so jittery. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt, his muscles bulging out with black joggers, a golden chain dangling on his neck. So simple yet so sleek.

“Are ya done staring, doll?” Toji asked with a smirk. “Uhh no?” You replied with a cheeky smile. “Keep staring then,” He said as he rubbed his thumb on your lips. “Pretty baby,” He said with an amusing smile.

“You removed my gloss,” You whined and slapped him on the chest. He chuckled, “M’sorry baby, gimme the gloss I’ll put it on yer lips.”

You huffed. “You better. Now drive,” you ordered. “I love it when yer bossy. Whatever you want hon,” He gruffly spoke and started the car. You connected your phone to the car and switched on one of your playlists. Toji raised a brow at the choice of your music.

A few minutes later, you arrived at the carnival. Toji parked the car and held out his hand towards you. You placed your hand on top of his and grinned at him. “No Dollie, Hand me your gloss,” He ordered.

That was embarrassing, even for you. Your face flushed red as you tried to hide your face in your hands. “Baby? Why’re you acting all embarrassed for hm?” He said as his hand stroked your hair. “This is gonna keep me up at night,” You mumbled with a pout.

His hand made its way to your chin and tilted it upwards. He looked at you with a mischievous smirk. “I can give you other things to keep you up at night you know that baby,” You huffed as he blew you a kiss.

He applied gloss on your still pouting lips. “See! I can do makeup,” he spoke with a proud smirk on his face. “You just put the gloss on my face dumbass,” you mumbled under your breath.

“And I can still apply the other makeup thingies on your face and I heard that,” He grumbled.

“Now that's another date idea. You fucking up my face,” you said with fake cheeriness. “Oh darling I do that every night,” He winked, making you blush. “Now let’s go! I've got plushies to win,” He added as he got out of the car.

He came to your side of the door and opened it. “See I’m a gentleman,” he jokingly said. You slapped him lightly on his chest. “Oww! That hurt doll,” He feigned hurt.

You slung your arm around his. “Let’s go now Mr Gentleman,” you cheekily said and trudged forward.

The sight of the carnival was beautiful. The sounds of rides, people letting out exhilarating screams and laughter on the rides, the smell of freshly baked food, bells ringing as someone won, the children running around. It was a wonderful sight.

Toji led you to the stalls with the games and prizes on display. “Which one do ya want?” He asked with a smirk on his face. You looked around and found a huge plushie and pointed at it. “I want that,” you said with an excited look on your face.

Toji rubbed his thumb on your cheek. “Deal,” “If you fail I’m going to spank you toji,” you whispered in his ears as you stood on your tippy toes. “Dollie if I win, leave the spanking to me okay?” He whispered and looked forward.

He paid the money and shot right in the center of the bullseye five times. The man who owned the stall looked at toji with annoyance but handed him the plush. Toji looked at you and smirked, “Keep a count for me hon,” You shivered as he looked at you. You were fucked. He was definitely going to spank you.

He handed you the giant plush and led you to the next stall. “Whaddya want?” He asked. You looked around and found something and pointed it out. He threw giant rings and it landed on the prize the first time. You cursed. This was a setup. You were never going to win.

He led you around all the stalls and won something from every stall. You were starting to get nervous.

You pointed at the rigged crane games. “We’re both going to play and if I lose? I get punished by you and if you lose? You get spanked by me. Forget the old bet!” You said with a flustered smile.

“Hm? Punished? What are yer limits? Or do I get to choose what I do to you?” He inquired with a thoughtful look on his face. He was already formulating plans on what to do to you. “No limits. All in,” You blurted out in a fit of rage. Crap. You were doomed. He chuckled. “Whatever you want hon,”

You shook away your nervousness and tried your best at the crane games. But failed miserably. Toji looked delighted as he won every single time. He glanced at some guy and beckoned him over. “Hey kid, drop these in my car will ya?” He said as he gave the man a 20-dollar bill to haul your plushies in the car.

He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Darling, has anyone told you that ya suck at games? Such’a sore loser,” He said as he patted your butt.

He led you towards the Ferris wheel and sat you down. “Ya know I always wanted to have sex in a Ferris wheel, up on the top,”

You glared at him. “Do you want us to die?” Toji laughed. “At least come sit on my thigh,” He patted his thigh, beckoning you over.

You shook your head. “You have lost your marbles,” you mumbled.

Since you were sitting so closely, he grabbed your chin and tilted it upwards. “Why are ya so huffy today doll?” He questioned.

“Let’s not be aggressive hm?” He gazed into your eyes as he brought your face closer to his.

“Darlin’ you look so good today. I wanted to turn the car around and take you back home. Fuck you senseless to the point where you only remember me and my name,” he spoke against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his soft lips brushed yours. You gasped as Toji caressed your thighs, his hands slowly making their way up to your waist, leaving shivers down your spine.

You suddenly became aware that you were in a Ferris wheel and it had just stopped. “Toji,” you whispered as you broke away from the kiss. “It’s our turn to get off,” you spoke, your face flushed red.

“We’re so going to continue this later,” He responded and helped you out of the ride.

#jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji imagine #toji imagines #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x you #toji drabbles #jjk imagines

334 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 5 months

Text

Cozy Secrets || Chp 2

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bucky, raised by spy parents, embraced espionage early in life. Constantly moving, he found comfort in blending into diverse surroundings.

His nomadic existence shifted when a mission led him to an apartment owned by Y/N, a hardworking individual who works as an interior designer.

Amidst a stakeout from his ideally located residence, Bucky grew attached, especially during rainy days. He revealed his spy identity to Y/N and confessed he didn't want to move out.

Offering to be her fake boyfriend, he declared, "With my skills, I could impress everyone."

And so, Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

*********************

The day of the reunion arrived, and Y/N felt a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. Even though she had a secret weapon in the form of Bucky, the thought of facing her high school bullies again sent shivers down her spine.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. He had donned a sleek suit, his hair styled to perfection, and he exuded an aura of confidence that Y/N couldn't help but admire.

As they walked into the venue, it was like entering a different world. The once awkward teenagers were now transformed into polished adults, some more successful than others.

Bucky's charm worked its magic as soon as they entered. He effortlessly navigated the social scene, engaging in conversations with old classmates and making new acquaintances. Y/N, initially hesitant, found herself drawn out of her shell by his infectious energy.

As expected, they soon ran into the infamous mean girls. The leader, Tiffany, still sported the same arrogant smirk Y/N remembered. This time, however, Y/N was prepared. With Bucky by her side, she felt a newfound sense of confidence.

"Hey Tiffany," Y/N greeted, her voice surprisingly steady. "This is Bucky, my… boyfriend."

Tiffany's eyes widened in surprise. "Boyfriend? Since when?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

Y/N, summoning all her courage, met Tiffany's gaze directly. "Let's just say we reconnected recently," she replied, a subtle smile on her lips.

Bucky, sensing the tension, stepped forward and extended his hand towards Tiffany. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice charming and smooth.

Tiffany, unable to resist his charm, shook his hand. "The pleasure is mine, Bucky," she replied, her cheeks flushed.

Y/N watched in amusement as Bucky seamlessly played the role of the loving boyfriend. He engaged Tiffany in conversation, asking about her life and career with genuine interest. Y/N couldn't help but be impressed by his acting skills.

As the night progressed, Bucky continued to weave his web of lies, telling elaborate stories about his "exciting" life as a high-profile businessman. (Easy for him to lie).

The other girls, impressed by his fabricated persona, showered him with attention, leaving Y/N to observe in amusement. She couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction seeing the tables turned on her former tormentor.

However, the act started to wear thin as the night progressed. Bucky, unused to such social interactions, began to lose his composure. He stumbled over his words, and his carefully crafted facade started to crumble.

Fearing things might escalate, Y/N decided it was time to cut their losses. She grabbed Bucky's arm and led him towards the exit.

"Let's go," she whispered. "I think we've had our fun."

Bucky, visibly flustered, agreed. They slipped out of the venue unnoticed, leaving behind the fading sounds of the reunion.

Once outside, they both burst into laughter, the tension of the night finally releasing.

"Wow, that was… intense," Bucky chuckled. "I almost blew my cover a few times there."

Y/N smiled. "You did great, Bucky. Even if it wasn't exactly the truth."

Bucky shrugged. "Well, you never told me you wanted a knight in shining armor, just a date to the reunion."

Y/N couldn't deny that Bucky's presence had boosted her confidence and allowed her to face her past without fear.

**************

Because of his help, Y/N told him that he could stay. As long he never ruined the apartment again. Bucky, relieved to have kept his apartment, was up bright and early the next morning.

The following day, Y/N found Bucky ready to leave. "Don't wait, and try not to miss me too much," he said with a wink. Y/N understand he's going on a mission.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the emptiness after he left. The apartment, once lively with his presence, now felt oddly quiet. As much as she craved peace, she couldn't help but miss the chaos Bucky brought into her life.

Join taglist ? 💗💗💗

@vampire7595

@immortalfangirl

@sapphirebarnes

@unaxv

@buchi91

@opibarnes

Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes au

180 notes · View notes