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mysacredmuse · 2 months

Text

reader: female anatomy, feminine descriptors (lady) + she/her pronouns

cw/tw: nsfw - mdni!, playing poker in stripping and one sexual exchange (he wants to creampie you, but bets in a kiss LOL), a bit of cocky! aventurine, aventurine and reader are "friends", reader is a loser 💔, dirty talk, table sex, rough sex, aventurine edges both of you, creampie

there is lots of dialogue, it's a mixture of bickering/playfulness & flirtiness I suppose

word count: 4.6k

dividers by @/enchanthings :)

note: tbh, in the part where the reader asks is that the only way he gets ladies naked, I had to hold myself back so hard not to write "not only ladies" LOL, but either way, I hope you enjoy it! :)

• Aventurine • Poker play •

Aventurine proposed a game of poker to you. At first, you were denying, aware that gambling with him would not be beneficial for you.

"Come on, I won't go rough on you." he states in a playful tone, taking the cards out of the box. You scoff as you sit down, deciding to humor him for a round or two since there wasn't really anything better to do at an empty casino.

"Easily persuaded..that's what I like to see." he gives you a sly smile as he shuffles the cards.

"Simply bored, so I will amuse you for a round." you say with a slight boredom in your tone, leaning back into your chair as you wait for him to deal.

"My friend, no one ever stops at one round." he states in a serious tone as he deals both of you a hand of five cards. You check yours, evidently dissatisfied as you didn't even get a pair. He chuckles but remains silent for a few moments.

"How many do you wish to change?" he finally asks, slightly tilting his head.

"All five." you say seriously, earning another chuckle of his.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, so I will give you four." he says in a playful tone as you choose which cards to exchange. Your situation doesn't get much better, but at least you got a pair of kings.

"You won't be changing any?" you ask curiously as you reposition the cards in your hand to satisfy your taste.

"I told you I won't be rough.." he pauses for a second before he lays out his hand.

"..but it's also quite unnecessary when you have a straight flush." he lets out a soft laugh as he sees your semi-annoyed expression.

"Good job cheater." you roll your eyes as you show your cards, two kings standing weakly against his hand.

"No need for such hostility, we can just try again." he says in a satisfied tone as he takes the cards back, quickly shuffling them in an oddly professional way.

"I said I will amuse you for one round only." you say in a firmer tone, crossing your arms as you watch him shuffle. Aventurine gives you a cat-like gaze as he puts the cards aside for a moment. He swiftly adds the chips, placing 20 thousand credits on the table afterwards. Your expression grows confused, even a bit shocked as he does it like it's nothing.

"Perhaps if we bet on this, your motivation will go up. What do you say?" he gives you a soft smile as he picks up and continues shuffling the cards.

"I say that you are insane. I don't have that kind of money to throw around!" you state in a louder tone, expression still quite puzzled. Aventurine just laughs at your reactions, clearly enjoying them.

"Ah, friend, let's not worry about such trivial matters here. All that actually matters is the game itself." he speaks calmly as he deals the cards again - five to both.

"It will matter tomorrow when I won't be able to get myself a bottle of water!" you express dramatically, but your words did make sense.

"Why are you immediately assuming that you will lose?" he tilts his head, semi-amusement adoring his features.

"You know why!" you state loudly, feeling borderline offended that he would even ask as he could probably buy you just by selling the watch on his wrist.

He laughs.

"I do know why, yes, but I told you already, didn't I? I won't go rough on you. Unless, of course, you want me to." he chuckles, sly gaze fixating on yours.

"We are still talking about poker, right?" you raise your eyebrow at him, slightly leaning forward as you check your cards.

"If that's what you want, then yes." he nods with a soft smile on his face before he checks his own cards.

"What else would I be talking about?" he continues after a moment of silence, making you slightly nervous. You ignore his question as the nervousness gets replaced by annoyance. Your cards suck. Again!

"Give me four cards again, please." you say in an almost defeated tone, sliding the four awful cards you had back to him. He wants to laugh, but he contains himself before he speaks up.

"You need to place a bet first."

You look at him with a shocked expression.

"Rules of the casino, friend! The dealer never loses." he chuckles, giving you a small wink as he taps the table, urging you to place your money.

"How fitting…" you squint your eyes at him as your lips turn downwards. You take out 5 thousand credits from your bag, placing the tiny stash next to his finger.

"Is this enough?"

"Sure is. For now, at least." he gives you a soft smile as he puts your money in the middle, the stake now being 25 thousand. He switches your four cards for new ones as he changes only one of his.

"Hey, hey! You said you need to put money first!" you point your finger at him and he gives you a puzzled expression in return for a moment.

"Does a dealer get no privileges?" he points out and you slightly shrink in your seat, but your face remains pouty.

"Fine, I did say I won't go rough on you after all. I see your five-" he can't help but chuckle which makes your face grow offended.

"-..and raise you fifteen." he adds, slowly pushing the money to the small chunk in the middle. You scoff as he keeps laughing at your reactions. Your hand isn't strong, but it isn't that weak either. Your first full house of the night!

Aventurine just watches you with amusement for a couple of moments.

"So, do you want to raise me as you seem confident or do you prefer to show your cards now?" he tilts his head as he repositions cards in his own hand.

"Uh...I can raise you five more!" you say proudly as you reach for your bag.

"You need to raise me twenty thousand." he states calmly.

"Twenty?!" your eyes widen as your voice grows panicked, quickly returning money back in the bag.

"Nevermind." you quickly follow, simply showing him your cards.

He watches you with an entertained expression as he lays out his, only to show you nothing. He has one strong card.

Your eyes glow with pride as you quickly scoop the money closer to you.

"You could've won much more only if you had more confidence." he clicks his tongue as he takes the cards, shuffling them again.

"How was I supposed to know that?" you question in a semi-disinterested tone, just happy that you won something.

"You couldn't know, but that's the thrill of the game my friend! Loosen up and learn to risk sometimes." he says with a tone that seemed to be almost hiding something as he deals both of you cards again. He casually places 100 thousand credits, in two stacks of 50 thousand. Your eyes widen in disbelief as you swallow nervously.

"Now, you need to place at least 20 thousand." he tells you in a calm manner and you do as told.

Next few rounds go surprisingly well for you and you find yourself more thrilled to play. Aventurine was right. You actually find this quite fun - even more so when you win. However, as if the devil felt your pride and confidence, you begin to lose very soon. Aventurine keeps getting the strongest suits, leaving your side of the table dry of any money. You wish to wipe the cocky smile off of his face every time he wins, growing more irritated. After a while, Aventurine proposes a new deal.

"How about we raise the stakes?" he asks with amusement on his face, slightly leaning back into his chair.

You raise an eyebrow at him, already aware where this is going.

"Is that your only way of getting ladies naked?" you chuckle as you think about his proposition.

"Not really. Being awfully good looking with an amazing taste in fashion often does the job." he states with a soft cockiness in his tone.

"Humbleness and humility as well, I am sure." you raise your eyebrows at him as your gaze falls on the empty spot where money used to be, right next to you.

"You would be correct, friend." he gives you a small nod, voice playful.

"But do not be so judgemental. After losing all of your money, is there really anything else you could offer me?"

You give him a hesitant gaze, remaining silent.

"Now of course, you could also back out, nothing is stopping you from doing so. Choice is yours." he says in a semi-sensual tone, sly gaze firmly fixated on yours.

"Isn't a bartender still here?" you ask as you play with your fingers a bit to calm down the nerves. It was a fun offer, but you also didn't celebrate the fact that you weren't alone.

"Mm, you really don't like risks, do you?" he asks without expecting you to answer him as he takes a look at his watch.

"He should be leaving fairly soon. I will play slowly, so you don't lose all your clothes before he leaves." he reassures you, oddly enough, so you just nod.

"Who says that I will be the one losing all the clothes?" you reply with a little smile, earning a chuckle from Aventurine.

"Oh? You feel more confident now, I like that." he says in a lower tone as he slowly shuffles the cards, just like he promised. You eagerly wait for him to deal, for unknown reason feeling excited about possibly getting it back to him.

"Although, before we start, may I ruin a little fun moment of mine I just had?"

"Go on."

"You are aware that it wasn't me who proposed this type of game...right?"

You blink a few times, recalling the conversation in your head.

"You were implying it. What else is there to play besides strip poker?" you tilt your head as you cross your arms over your chest.

"You do realize that I work for IPC? There are a lot of games to play and lots of debt to make, if one wishes to."

"Whatever! Don't flatter yourself thinking that I wanted to see you naked."

"Not what I was aiming at." he chuckles as he finally deals the cards, his presence becoming heavier.

"No switching cards anymore. We both get only one shot each time, so - lay them out whenever you are ready." he says in a cunning tone, eyelids lowering as he waits for you.

You gulp, laying out your trashy hand with only one ace.

"And here I thought we would take it slow. Or are you that eager to lose?" he asks in a low tone, laying out his card one by one, keeping you in suspense.

However, he also only has one strong card - ace of hearts.

"Now what..?" you ask a bit confused as your gaze jumps between your cards and his.

"Nothing. We play until one wins. Should I speed it up this time or do you still want me to go slow?" he tilts his head as he takes the cards, keeping them in his hand.

"Slow." you nod as you notice that the bartender still hasn't left.

Aventurine just smiles as he shuffles the cards slowly, silence filling up the room with a layer of intriguing heaviness between the two of you.

He finally deals the cards and you check yours, finally getting a better hand - three of a kind. Nothing to be secure in, but it's also not the worst scenario.

"Whenever you are ready." he states as he leans back comfortably in his chair.

Sudden interruption occurs, the bartender's raspy voice breaking the silence.

"I will be closing up soon, so-"

"Put it on my name. I will pay for renting the casino for the rest of the night. We are still playing." Aventurine speaks confidently, not batting an eye at him, gaze fixated on you.

"O-oh..okay. But it seems like you stripped her from everything already." the bartender replies in an empathetic tone as you give him a forced smile.

"Not quite yet. You can also leave early, I won't tell your boss." Aventurine finally looks at the man, winking at him. The bartender just utters a few words of gratitude as he quickly goes back to type Aventurine's bill and pack his things.

"Go on now. I took care of that as well." he smiles at you, tapping the table with his index finger.

You swallow again, slowly laying out your cards. Aventurine throws his almost immediately after you, winning with a full house. You click your tongue, hesitantly looking up at him as the bartender waves goodbye before he leaves. You wave back, slowly turning back to Aventurine who just gives you a knowing gaze.

"You can start with the shirt...or do you need my help with that as well?" he tilts his head, lustful eyes gazing up and down at you. You shake your head as you take a deep breath, slowly unbuttoning your shirt as you silently hope to win the next round. You place your shirt on the chair next to you, turning back to face Aventurine. He keeps eyeing you, eyebrows slightly rising upon seeing your bra.

"Fancy. Are you sure you didn't put it on just for me?" he lets out a mellow chuckle as he takes cards again, shuffling them a bit faster than before.

"You wish." you roll your eyes at him, slightly readjusting yourself in the chair.

"Perhaps I do." he confirms nonchalantly as he deals the cards, letting the meaning of his words flow between the two of you. You don't reply, but a dim wave of warmth forms beneath the skin of your cheeks.

You check your cards, still not satisfied as you get three of a kind once again. You want to attack him with a statement that he didn't shuffle the cards properly, but that would be a lie as you watched him do it.

He doesn't say anything this time, just shows you his cards - royal flush. You bite down on your bottom lip as you shamefully show your weaker hand. With a heavy gaze of his, you stand up, quickly losing your pants without uttering the word.

Another round plays out and you lose again. Time to pick between your bra and your panties.

"You can still back out if you want to." he says with an inviting tone, slowly leaning over the table.

"I don't want to."

There is something eager, impatient and borderline lustful as he gazes into you. For some, yet many reasons that makes your tummy curl on the inside, sending hot waves through your body. You swiftly unclip your bra, letting it slide down your shoulders as you expose yourself to him.

His gaze follows the bra that falls down, swiftly turning back up as he admires your tits. You put your bra next to your shirt, slightly squirming in your seat as a soft wave of shyness washes over you.

"This is quite a show from you." he says in a mixed tone of teasing and softer neediness as he swiftly begins shuffling the cards again.

"Do you still wish to continue?" he challenges, but also makes sure at the same time. You nod, a soft sound of confirmation vibrating out of your throat. Your gaze falls on the window of his shirt that exposes a tiny portion of his chest, something inside of you desiring for him to take it off. Thoughts bubble up in your head as he deals the cards, giving you a much better hand this time. It's not the best, but it is a straight flush. So almost the best! You quickly lay them out, excited for the win at hand.

"Almost." Aventurine says bluntly as he quickly slides his cards over yours. To your misfortune, he had another royal flush. You let out a dissatisfied sigh, eyebrows twitching as you remain still for a moment. Aventurine keeps silent, waiting for your next choice. You slowly stand up, barely looking at his direction as you hook your thumbs between your hips and panties.

"Down." he orders you in a slightly quieter tone for the first time during this night. You finally gaze at his face, his eyes intense as he waits for you. You give him a soft smile as you slide your thumbs out of your panties, covering your boobs as you cross your arms over your chest, slightly hugging yourself.

"Do it yourself, Mr winner. This is the prize you were hoping for, no?" you reply in a semi-teasing tone, earning a moment of stillness from Aventurine. He slowly stands up, walking towards you just as slowly. You feel your lower tummy burn in desire as he finally reaches you, body close to yours. You slowly move back until you hit the edge of the table and Aventurine's body follows, inch away from yours. He slowly kneels down in front of you, head looking up as his gaze fixates on yours.

He sneaks his index fingers between your panties and hips, slowly rolling them down as his face remains close, awfully close, to your pussy, tip of his nose not even an inch away. He gently brushes his hands over your thighs, knees, calves and then finally ankles as his gaze still remains firmly on yours. You step out of your panties, kicking them to the side as you rest your palms on the table behind you, exposing your boobs to him again.

He slowly straightness himself, soft palms sliding over the sides of your body in the process, lastly resting on your hips.

"Is this what you were hoping for?" you ask through a mellow whisper, tilting your head at him.

"I could ask you the same question." he answers in a low tone, leaning his face closer to yours.

"Perhaps I did." you smile, gently hooking your index finger underneath the small belt that was holding his collar. Your lips ghost over his, legs slightly spreading. He slowly moves his hands down, sneaking them on the backside of your thighs and swiftly lifting you up on the table.

You spread your legs around his hips as your faces remain close to each other. You slowly move your hands down, undoing his zipper and the button of his pants, giving him a sly look. He doesn't stop you as you slowly slide them down his hips, enjoying the outline of his hard cock on his boxers. As you start sliding his boxers down, he speaks up.

"One last bet. If you kiss me first, I get to cum inside of you tonight."

"And if you lose?"

"Then I will become your fucktoy for as long as you want me to, anytime you want me to."

"One night versus forever..you're quite generous with your offer."

He slowly aligns his cock with your leaking entrance, sliding it up and down over your clit and inner lips, earning a shaky whimper of yours.

"It's a win for me either way."

"And if I never use you?"

"I still get to cum inside of you this one time."

"Ah, so that's your idea of never being on the losing end?"

"Indeed." he confirms as he swiftly slides his cock inside of you, earning a sharp moan of yours and a shaky moan of his. Your hands fall behind you, keeping you up as Aventurine leans his face close to yours, parted lips ghosting over yours. He starts thrusting his hips slowly, letting the tip of his cock remain inside of you for a moment before he slowly slides his full length back inside.

You let out a chain of soft moans, legs squeezing his hips as your gazes fixate on one another, mellow filthy sounds filling up the small space between both of your lips. His hands fall on your hips, pulling you a bit closer to him as he narrows his hips, long and slow thrusts reaching deeper inside of you. You let out a sharper moan as his cock stimulates your sweet spots so agonizingly, shivers going throughout your body.

Aventurine lets out shaky moans, trying to contain them without much success. You let your tongue slide over his bottom lip as it didn't really count as kissing, teasing him further as his hot breath warms up your lips. He clicks his tongue, a choked and shaky moan following as he speaks.

"I did say I won't be rough with you, but that was only while we were playing." he states rather quickly and immediately speeds up his hips, thrusting into you at a much quicker pace, making your eyes roll back from suddenness. You let out a few guttural whines; his balls slapping the underside of your pussy in a sharp manner, making it feel like a pleasurable bruising.

He keeps the angle of his hips, reaching deepest spots of you as your head falls back, lips parting away from his. He leans into your exposed neck, licking a quick stripe over your pulse area, trembling moans spreading hot air over your skin. He messily starts kissing your neck making you clench around his length, but almost forcefully unclenching as his cock slides over your sensitive spots at a brutal pace.

His pelvic area slightly stimulates your clit each time it kisses yours, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Aventurine reaches behind your ear, trailing to it in soft kisses and licks, leaving lustful and whorish sounds to ring in your ear right after.

You barely clench around him a few more times as his cock keeps sliding in and out of you at a vigorous pace. He moves his hand away from your hip and slides it on the back of your head, moving it close to him as he leans away from your ear, straightening it for you as he keeps slamming his hips into yours. You let out a messy moan, lips almost falling onto his as your mind grows hazy and needier. You quickly catch yourself this time, but Aventurine notices, cock twitching slightly inside of you.

"Fuck, you are so eager I might start thinking you were losing on purpose." he lets his words out in a mixture of steadiness and soft whimpers as his cock keeps slidinh in and out of your overly leaking cunt even faster now. Your eyes roll down as one of your hands grip his shoulder, unsteady vision focusing on the way his cock moves in and out of you.

Aventurine follows your motion, foreheads resting against one another as the two of you watch his cock getting out to the tip and then buried deep inside your cunt. Your pussy convulses at the sight in front of you as his cock twitches in response, desperate moans slipping past your lips.

Your grip on his shoulder becomes tight as his hand pulls your head back by your hair at its previous place, the other hand sliding between your bodies to reach your clit. As soon as you feel his fingers resting on your thigh while only his thumb circles over your clit, a pathetic whine escapes your throat. Aventurine leans his face closer, lips practically on yours, but he doesn't kiss you.

You claw at the table behind you as your hand falls off his shoulder to his chest, fingernails desperately digging into the tiny portion of skin accessible. He lets out shakier moans than before, swallowing half of them which results in a few whines as his pace doesn't slow down, cock relentlessly stimulating all of your sensitive spots while his thumb draws gentler circles over your clit.

Your body begins to twitch, waves of heat overwhelming you as your orgasm slowly builds up. You tighten your legs around his hips, narrowing your own his to meet his thrusts deeper inside. Your gaze is low and needy just like his, pretty eyes not leaving yours once.

"Please don't-" you choke out as a sharp moan interrupts you, legs shaking and losing their grip on his hips. You press your lips into his, but do not kiss him. He speeds up the pace of his thumb on your clit, squeezing louder moans out of you as your back slightly arch. His grip on your hair tightens as his balls keep bruising the underside of your leaking cunt.

"Kiss me if you want to cum." he whispers breathlessly, his own release edging closer as he feels your warm pussy cream and tighten around him.

"Nuh-uh.." you barely shake your head, tensing your lower tummy in order to reach orgasm faster. Aventurine feels the motion of your muscles as it makes your cunt tighten around him even more, giving you one last sharp and heavy thrusts, forcing a sharp whine out of your throat before he slows his hips down a lot. You groan in displeasure, eagerly trying to move your own hips in order to gain more friction. Your breaths mix up together and you brush your lips over his, fingernails digging harder into his chest.

He speeds up the movement of his thumb as his hips move at agonizingly slow pace, quickly building up your orgasm once more. His lips wrap around your bottom one, still not fully kissing you as a soft moan escapes his throat. His cock twitches inside of your cunt as a sharp moan escapes your lungs, first waves of orgasm washing over you.

He quickly moves his thumb away from your clit, all the build up in your lower tummy subsiding as he edges the both of you. He barely thrusts his cock out of you, making your mind hazy as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You let your lips wrap around his upper lip, tongue finally hesitantly sliding over it.

"Just let me cum, please." you whimper out, mindlessly greedy for release, pride disappearing as you let yourself lose the bet once more.

On cue, Aventurine immediately speeds up the pace of his hips, vigorously pounding into you as his thumb returns to draw slow circles over your clit. He chuckles into the kiss as you press your lips harder into his, his grip on your hair tightening. Your tongues swiftly find each other, eagerly sliding over one another, sending trembles down your body as you keep moaning into the kiss.

Overwhelming heat washes over you, heavily convulsing in your lower tummy as your orgasm quickly builds up again, breaking through in small waves at first. Aventurine lets out a sharp moan into your mouth as his cock twitches more, pressing deeper into your g-spot and sending you over the edge.

His release immediately follows, a thick whip of cum sending tingles up your spine as it melts inside of your needy cunt at the peak of your release. Your kiss becomes heavy and lustful, breathless as it's filled with whorish moans, both of you ride out your orgasms. Aventurine doesn't slow down for quite some time, hips and his thumb both working at a fast pace to prolong your orgasm and this very moment for as long as possible.

Next morning, a sudden sound of two messages makes your phone light up, a small buzz startling you.

2 messages.

Click.

Aventurine transferred 2 million credits to your account. Click to open.

Aventurine [08:08 am]: My other offer still remains on the table. Do with that information what you wish.

#aventurine x reader smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x yn #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr imagines #hsr smut #hsr x reader smut #female reader #muse's writings

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impishjesters · 6 months

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Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.6k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 2

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

“You got lost, didn’t you?”

Sticking your tongue out at Charles, you take a seat next to his broad figure as you start applying coconut sunscreen. “Would it kill you to not gloat?” You narrow your unusually soft eyes like weapons.

He playfully shudders. “Ooooh. My blood ran cold.”

Throwing the bottle over at his lap, he chuckles before lathering his tan body with the white goo. You try to not make it obvious, the way you steal glances at him. Everything makes sense all of a sudden; his odd obsession with anything that could cover his handsome features, the mysterious Ferrari, how he could go from making you laugh to keeping his mouth shut and looking down whenever anyone was around.

He had kept this from you for a reason, that much is clear, but you would still give him a chance to open up. Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, you twist your body to sit cross cross. You fold your hands over your lap. “Truth or dare?”

The brunette tilts his head with hesitance. “Y-you don’t want to take a dip?”

“Let’s lay out for a bit.” You poke him with your toe. “C’mon. Play with me.”

He sighs, pushing his hat downwards. “Dare.”

“Hmm…I dare you to…read me your last text message.”

“Easy.” Pulling out his phone, he scrolls for a bit before showing it to you.

You’re walking the opposite way. I said near the fruit stand.

Burning up, you push it down. “I don’t count.”

“You never specified.”

He wasn’t going to play easy and part of you respected that. Clicking your tongue, you extend your shiny legs. He gulps. Truth or dare? “Dare.”

“Call the last person you spoke to.”

Growing nauseous at his request, you shake your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

You stutter. “M-my boss called to check up on me. Wanted to make sure I was a-actually on my deathbed and not just faking it, I can’t do that.” The Monegasque squinted his eyes teasingly before leaning back against the gray rocks.

“Fine. You get a pass.” You let out a breath of relief. “But I get one of those as well.”

You felt as if you were making a deal with the devil with the way he was watching you, waiting for an answer. He might use it against your benefit, but you had no choice. “Deal.”

“Good.” Flickering his green eyes towards the crystal blue tides, he chews on the inside of his cheek. “It's your turn.”

Be smart, don’t blow it. Deep down, you wanted to ask about the simpler things. Your favorite color? What was your childhood like? Was it better than mine? But that couldn’t matter more than what information you actually needed. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You groan. How were you supposed to get all the juicy details out of him if he kept playing it safe? Nonchalantly, he waits. “I dare you to stop picking dares.” His face pales. You feel bad for putting him in that position, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“Truth or dare?”

Swallowing a thick layer or saliva, you purse your lips. “Truth.”

“Why did you lie to your boss?”

You gape at his question as you think of a way to avoid it. All he knows is that you have a month off and chose Italy as your destination thanks to your amazing friends. He didn’t know anything about the sleepless nights of zero ideas that had you on the brink of being fired, the reason you needed this article to work. Not only would it set your career, but it would also give you the respect you so desperately looked for in everyone who looked down on you.

“She would never let me come to Italy if I told her I need a break from all the pressure, y’know?”

Waves crash noisily as he frowns. “Mhm.”

“My turn. What’s your occupation?”

“I already told you,” he laughs, brown curls flowing against the summer breeze. “I work with cars.” A gist of hope zaps your heart as you wait for the rest. “I’m a mechanic.”

He wasn’t going to tell you - he didn’t trust you. Melancholy register across your face as you rise up carefully. “I’m in the mood to swim now.”

Life for the Scuderia Ferrari driver moves at a fast pace, always on the go and traveling all around the world. At just 26 years old, the Monegasque has collected 5 wins and an impressive number of podiums, all while maintaining the longest Scuderia contract in history.

But do we really know Charles Leclerc in his everyday life? A man without any responsibilities?

Fortunately for us, I was able to sit down and speak to Il Predestinato as he he walks us through his routine for when he’s not on track-

“What are you working on? Seeing you be so quiet is bone-chilling.”

Poking your tongue out like a slithering snake, you feverishly slam your computer shut as you flip him off. “Catching up with friends. What can I say? The people love me.” The 26 year old rolls his eyes before picking up on his scribbles. Tippy toeing closer to him, you try to inspect the messy writing. “What is that?”

“Fuck, you scared me, you little gnome.” Hiding his small journal, you immediately push out your bottom lip.

“Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Clumsily, he opens it. “Grocery list.” But it's more than that. His letter isn’t easy to read, but it'll get you there. Diary entries. Blinking up at your roommate, you wiggle your brows. What’s it say? “Nothing important.” You don’t press him on it, but that doesn’t stop the curiosity from stirring inside of you. He stiffens. “Let’s go before they close.”

Pebbles crunch underneath your ballet flats as you sing softly. He smiles, content with the serene atmosphere. What song is that? Your jaw drops, stopping dead in your tracks. It takes him a while to realize you're not skipping next to him anymore. “Tell me you’re joking…”

“I’m joking.”

“Charles!” you wail as you fling your arms. “Beyond the Sea? Bobby Darin?” His face doesn’t change as he bats his eyes blankly. You gasp. “We’ll meet, I know we’ll meet beyond the shore. We’ll kiss just as before-.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Playfully, you shiver, clutching your heart. “It isn’t good to be uncultured, Charlie.” The way you spit out his new nickname has him grasping how much he loves it - so long it's coming from you. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you wave your finger like some principal. “I’ll play it for you.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “No, just sing it to me like you were.”

You sincerely don’t have a single clue where all this unknown courage comes from, but you oblige. All the way to the local farmers market, he’s grinning ear to ear. From your voice sounding angelic, to it cracking as you would try to intimidate Darin, he feels fortunate to see this side of you.

Entering the sliding doors, you grab a basket as you drag him, shoes squeaking from the sudden pull. “We’re not here for snacks, we’re here for food. Y’know - vegetables, rice, chicken-”

“I need something sweet!” you complain as your doe eyes glimmer at the sight of the Italian desserts. “If I don’t get it in my system I will die. Do you want me to die?”

“At this moment, it doesn’t sound half bad.” You gawk at his dark humor. Taking the tiny basket from you, he makes his way to the produce section. “Grab whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”

Once his back faces you, you feel your phone vibrating. “Amelia!” Your cheery friend waves excitedly. Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you for days! Wincing, you place your phone on top of a box of cookies. “I’ve been gone for five days, please relax. Plus, I’m fine. Enjoying my time off.”

Your friend snickers. “I still need updates to make sure you aren’t dead in a ditch.” Making an exaggerated face, you nod and the blonde giggles. “Don’t make me fly out there. Unlike you, I will demand a year off if needed.”

“Oh, I believe you,” you murmur, hand reaching for a box of Baci Pergunia. “How are you guys surviving without your third wheel?”

“Stop it, you,” she hisses. “Instead, why don’t you fill me in - any cute tourists?” You freeze midair, already angling your body to grab bonelle jellys.

“I’m not too focused on any of that..”

“Of course not because you’re too busy daydreaming about Grayson,” she teases. “Honey! She’s missing him, I told you!” Bullshit, Roman yells back from the kitchen.

“Will you two stop it?” you grit.

“Yes, darling,” Roman talks gingerly. “Will you please stop planning a wedding?” Your jaw drops while your friend nervously giggles. He’s joking.

“Enough about me, what are you two doing? What’s on the menu?”

The brunette’s eyes crinkle, showing off his blurry screen. “Sicilian meatball soup.”

“Lucky!” you groan. “You’re messed up for cooking your grandma’s recipe while I’m not there.” He shrugs.

“We miss you so we both decided to make an Italian dish.” She emphasizes her words as he smiles bitterly. “It’s like you’re here with us.”

“She cried for an hour or so. It was the only way I could calm her down.” Amelia bites the air at her boyfriend. He leaps back, returning to stirring the sauce. “I cook because I love you, stop that.”

You throw your head back with laughter. “Again, not dead, but I’m touched.” Hearing a bag crinkle, you look down the aisle and spot Charles making his way over. “Gotta go! Call you as soon as I can!”

“Wow, you’ve managed to grab all the snacks in the entire store,” Charles teases as he points to your stack. “Got you chips, too.”

“You’re not helping,” you grunt as you take it from him. He hands you your own basket for your treats. Cramming them all in, he examines you before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So, Grayson’s the boyfriend?”

“Ha! I wish. He’s my boss’ son. Way out of my league.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then, he walks away, leaving you to follow after him like a lost puppy. You’re wary around him after that encounter, so you make sure to stand a few steps behind, waiting for him to finish paying. “What are you doing?”

“Che cosa?”

Sauntering over, he reaches down to take your things. Your breath gets caught in your throat from the sudden proximity. “I got it.”

Bewildered, you start retreating all the sweets. “You don’t need to do that, you’re already paying for the other things. This one’s on me.” He scrunches his nose.

“That’s endearing, but I can’t. I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely confused, and can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “You look perfectly fine to me.”

He smirks. “Really?”

“I m-mean I think so,” you stammer. “But how would I know, I’ve never been on a diet.” Charles' watercolor eyes trickle all the way down before dancing back up. Butterflies flutter inside of you.

“You don’t need it, trust me.” A pause. “I’ll pay for your things, it’s really no problem. Though I do ask you not to blame me when your teeth rot.”

“Jerk!” you quip when he walks away, laughing loudly. You smile at the sound.

“You need to stop gobbling up all that crap, if not you’re not going to eat any of what I’m cooking,” his voice warns you. Setting the bag of gummies down, you kick your bare feet against the cabinets.

Has it been an hour? Two? You can’t remember but it sure did smell good. He had asked you to just sit still and fix up a playlist while he prepared dinner, so there really wasn’t much to do. Are you almost done? Focused on cutting up a piece of onion, he shakes his head. A minute passes by before asking again. Not done, wait.

As soon as your stomach grumbles, he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. You chuck a carrot at him as he cackles. “Ta-da!” Inspecting the nicely done dish, you throw a thumbs up. Grabbing a spoon, you’re about to dive in before he slides the plate away. Your lips form a thin line. “Take your time. Really enjoy it - it’s flavor, it’s scent-”

“Jesus, fine. Give it before I bite your cheek off,” you growl. Glaring at him, you dip your utensil in slowly. He applauds before pulling out his phone and pressing record. “Is that really necessary?”

“You might not realize it, but this is a monumental moment.” Bowing his head, he urges you to try it. You shrug once, wrapping your lips around the spoon and let's just say - you’ve always had a killer poker face.

“Delicious, chef!”

“Putain oui!” He puts his phone away. “What did you like about it? The pepper helped, didn't it?”

You grimace. “I want my two hours back.” His smile dies down. Seriously? Yanking the spoon from your grip, he tries the colorful soup and winces at the saltiness.

“I followed step by step, why does this shit keep happening?”

The Monegaque truly does seem bummed out as his shoulders sag, glasses sliding down his pointy nose. Scooting closer, you pat his shoulder awkwardly. “You need some serious help.” He shoots a deadpan look as you giggle. “I’m kidding! It’s not that bad.” Jumping off the counter, you tug the nearest apron. “Let me try.”

It takes another two hours, but you figure it out eventually. Standing tall, you place your hands behind your back. The Monegasque eyes the food. “Now, I want you to take your time. Really enjoy it, it’s flavor-”

“Stop it,” he grumbles before diving in. His eyes open wide as you wiggle against your heels excitedly. “You can’t be real.”

“Is it good?”

He nods enthusiastically, brown hair jumping up and down. “H-how did you…” Polishing your nails, you fake a bored expression. By praying. It’s looks as if he’s deeply considering your advice for a second but when you howl out, he flushes.

“Don’t be so gullible, Charlie. Roman’s grandma taught me. I spent Christmas with him and Amelia.”

His face softens up. “What about your parents?”

“We’re not close like that.” You confess so unbothered that it has him fluttering his eyes for a while. “Don’t feel bad - I do just fine. They call me on my birthday.” Metal clinks against the porcelain plate as he huffs, firm chest rising up before deflating.

“That’s the fucking standard.” You raise a brow. Why are you upset with me? “I’m not. It’s just that it’s not fair that they treat you like garbage just because you didn’t fulfill their wish. Or that you let others trample over you like a piece of shit.” You flinch. “Y-you know what I mean…”

“Sure,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the food, Charles.”

He feels guilty for making you feel bad, but he wasn’t lying. It bugged the crap out of him that you floated through life thinking everything was okay. He’s never met Amelia or Roman, but he felt a strong gratitude towards the couple for treating you with genuine care. But you had filled him in on the rest; they way others would look down on you - all while you wore a miserable smile. I’m used to it by now. Doesn’t even bother me.

Charles was always in the limelight - always probably will be - but he also knows he signed up for it. He knew fake smiles like the back of his hand. Whether it was a pretty girl trying to get money out of him or sponsors trying to get close to him just for fame. If it weren’t for his friends back home, he definitely would have lost faith in humanity.

And then there was you. Someone so kind, who puts others' needs before yourself. You didn’t have to check up on him that day at the beach, you didn’t have to help him or give him shelter but you did. He thought you would be some crazy fan but when you blinked up at him like a curious expression, he could tell you didn’t know who he was.

The Monegasque felt relieved that you treated him without any special treatment, that you saw him for who he really was, not just some F1 driver. He owes it to you to make things right and apologize.

He finds you eating a pint of gelato as you stare blankly at the eggshell wall. “Did you save me some?” You jump at the sound of his deep voice. Halfway done, you respond red-faced. You can have the rest. Leaning against the table, he shakes his head. “Let’s just share.”

You’re sure you can hear Amelia and Roman bickering from how quiet it is, but don’t dare to utter a single word. It’s bad enough that he knows that his words got to you, how can you look him in the eye?

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Peeking over at the brunette, you admire his side profile before humming. He continues. “But at the same time I don’t regret it.”

You laugh dryly. “Wow, this is some apology.”

Clearing his throat, he cages your body against the wooden furniture. “I’m serious - I don’t.” Avoiding eye contact, you stare at the sides of your bare thighs where his large hands lay. Suddenly the room feels suffocating. “You do need to stop letting others decide what to think about yourself. You need to stop pleasing everyone around you. Your parents, Eleanor, shit, even me.”

The green eyed boy begins to get blurry as your eyes foolishly well up. “I don’t do th-”

“Yes, yes you do, do that.” His accent comes out stronger than intended. You let out a shaky breath, then beam up at him. Okay, I’ll stop. He grinds his teeth together. “No. Don’t agree just because I’m telling you - do it for yourself because you want to.”

“I want to,” you whisper meekly.

His heart breaks at the sight of you answering untruthfully but does say anything else. Instead, he hauls you off the table, planting you onto your feet. “Grab a sweater and meet me by the door in five minutes.”

He’s for sure going to murder you, Amelia was right after all. Shit, you mutter underneath your breath as he pulls onto the hills. The view was great - for sure a nice way to go if that’s the last thing you’ll ever see.

Following him out, you pinch down on your denim shorts. Was it too late to run away? He left the key in the engine, maybe you could leave him stranded?

“I’m not going to kill you, you can relax.”

Blood rushes to the tip of your ears. “What are we doing here at…” You check your phone. “Two in the morning?”

“Yell.”

You quirk your head curiously. “I’m sorry, say that one more time.”

He extends his arms out, enjoying the cool breeze. “Just do it. No one’s going to hear you.”

“That sounds like something a killer would say. Can I get a ten minute head start?”

He rolls his green eyes. “Trust me, it helps a lot. My trainer has me do it all the time.” You raise your brows. “I- uh- box during my free time. My boxing trainer has me do it when I’m too stressed.”

Ignoring his slip up, you shake your head. “I can’t scream, that’s weird.” His pink lips turn downwards. “You’re going to judge me!”

“I won’t!” Covering his ears, he signals at you. “Not a thing.”

You bite down on your sweater before shaking your buzzing hands. Once and he’ll drop it. Ahh, you let out weakly before smiling brightly. “You’re right. That was great!” Turning on your heels, you begin to skip away before he tugs on your sweater, flinging you back.

“Not even the crickets heard you. Try again.”

“I did do it, you just didn’t like it.”

“I’m not letting you leave until you do it the right way.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he peacefully shuts his eyes, enjoying nature's lullaby. He seems to let his guard down because before he knows it, he hears the Ferrari engine loud and clear. “Don’t you dare leave,” he warns as he runs up to his car.

“Get home safe, Charlie!” you squeal as you step on the gas. Chasing after you, he ends up standing in front of the car as you shriek. As quickly as you can, you step off the break but the tip still manages to hit the Monegasque. You scream at the brutal sight.

Scurrying out of the car, you drop down next to him as you flip him onto his back. His pretty eyes remain closed as he lays still. Wake up Charles, I’m too young to go to jail! Do you know how hard it is to prove your innocence when you’re a foreigner? You delicately tap his cheek but his head only rolls back. You yell out in panic as you let go of his heavy body.

“Oh God, oh God, holy shit, holy fuck,” you whimper as you pace back into the red car. Squeezing your eyes tightly, you place your hands over the steering wheel as you think about what just happened. Amelia was going to kill you. Eleanor would personally write a whole article about you.

“You were seriously going to leave me for dead?” a voice interrupts your thoughts as you scream. You face Charles and he yells back at the sudden ring.

“What the shi- You’re alive!” Jumping over the console, you hug him, barely giving him room to breathe. Groaning in pain, he pushes you back. You hop off as you grab his left hand and raise up four fingers. “How many am I holding up?”

“Fingers? I have ten.”

Your heartbeat travels to your throat as you squirm. “I broke him.” Images of you behind bars enter your mind as you plead Charles to drop the charges. Amelia and Roman would travel to visit you in jail but only to demand their money back. You’d be in complete debt for the rest of your life and oh God what if the Italinas had a thing for the electric chair-

“I’m teasing,” he laughs as he rubs his head. “It hurts like a motherfucker, though, but hey, at least you let it all out.” Wacking his arm, you glare sternly.

“You did that on purpose?”

Grunting, he inches away. “I did not, are you crazy? But it helped you! How do you feel?”

You narrow your fiery eyes. “Angry…mad.” That's the same thing, he points out as you scowl. Nevermind. “I feel good.”

All smug, he leans against the passenger's seat. “I told you it would help.”

“Huh,” you let out in astonishment.

It started out with a simple argument - pesto or tomato sauce. You were leaning more towards the green paste but he held onto his end stubbornly. Honeymoon phase is over? Spinning to face a little boy with whipped cream all over his cheeks, he quirks his head. My dad always likes to say - happy wife, happy life. Walking away, you’re both left with your mouths hung open as you put the ingredients down.

“Did we just get scolded by a some little fucker?”

Gasping at his words, you smack the side of his head. He yelps. “No Charles, he basically called us old! We’re ancient!”

“Nonsense. He’s just being dumb.”

Glaring, you put your hands on your hips as you pace the aisle. “What if he’s right? What if we are on the verge of death?” He laughs. All because he thought we were married? Closing in to his tall figure, you pinch your face up. “A married couple spend their life together - growing old. He called us old!” You walk fast down the supermarket as you run wild hands through your hectic hair.

Hurrying after you, he pants. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find him.” He comes to a sudden stop. And do what exactly? Tossing your head back, you groan in frustration. “I don’t know! Whoop him or something like that.”

The Monegasque lets out a snicker. Your face twists up. “Let’s just calm down.” I am calm, you grunt. He clicks his tongue.

“We need to do something,” you declare. He sighs. Forgetting all about your errands, you drag him out of the store. Bright eyes flicker across the busy streets as you huff. Then you spot it. “We’re going.”

The brunette squints his eyes as he reads the small print. Amalfi Club. Theme: Halloween costumes. He scoffs. “But it isn’t even October.”

But your mind is set. “It’s perfect.” Bumping against his shoulder, you beam. “Looks like we can turn back time after all.”

Ballerina for me, you cheer. And Stormtrooper for you? You narrow your eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, how do you even know Star Wars exists? Aren’t you French?”

“Monegasque,” he corrects you before frowning. “Stars Wars is a global success. Being from Monaco doesn’t mean we don’t know anything, thank you very much.”

You shrug. “Be a tiny bit more grateful that I found our costumes on such short notice.” Yeah, yeah, he yawns. “I’m so excited!” you squeal as you finish tying your pink ribbon. You would for sure have a terrible headache by the end of the day. “Won’t you sweat with a helmet all night?”

“I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

It’s so crowded - packed - that your roommate has to practically shove you in as you yelp, arm swatting your tutu down. A cheap looking Tinkerbell gives you the death glare when you step on her foot. I can’t fucking breath! The Stroomtopper mask tilts as he brings his gloved hands to your shoulder. Do you want to leave?

“No!” A beat. “Let me just go get us a drink.”

Zipping past him, you can hear him calling after you but you choose to ignore since you knew he would drag you back to the shared Airbnb. Just water, you chime in as the bartender nods, eyeing your perky tits. Frowning, you pout somberly. “Ignore him,” a deep voice rips you away from your thoughts as you face them.

Is everyone just okay with melting their face off? The towering man wears a red jumpsuit with the infamous Dali mask. “I like your costume. I binge watched all of Casa De Papel in a singular night.” Your cheeks flush when you realize you’re rambling. He chuckles richly.

“Thought I’d look cool.

There’s an award silence as you wait. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You must be sweaty beneath all that,” you ponder, fingers signals to the white mask. He sighs, wide shoulders rolling back. I’m thinking I might faint. A bright giggle slips past your lips and he grins from underneath, even if can’t see. “You remind me of my friend. He would rather die than take his helmet off. He’s a Strormtrooper,” you add.

Large hands come up as he pushes the hoodie off, messy brown locks coming into view. Stubborn, aren’t we? You nod, thanking the man who comes back with your glass of water. “I should go find him…”

A heavy pant flows from the mysterious man. You’re leaving? He coughs to cover up his neediness. His accent makes your cheek burn up. “I sort of left him,” you respond sheepishly. He chuckles, finally taking his mask off, beads of thin sweat painingting his large nose. You breath hitches, waves of recognition hitting you all at once.

“Valid.” He extends his tan hand towards you. “I’m Carlos, by the way.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

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cozymoko · 7 months

Note

Platonic!Yandere Dad Gojo would be swell for me obvs not for the kid

Glad to see you back 🤗

PLATONIC! YANDERE DAD GOJO SATORU

Note: Hey, hey, hey! I'm glad to be back.

Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Platonic! Yandere Gojo Satoru

WARNINGS: Slight yandere themes

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀— 「大丈夫でしょう。だって、君弱いもん。」

Whether you're the product of a fling, a past relationship, hell, even if you aren't his blood. GOJO SATORU will take full responsibility for you!

You're spoiled rotten; it's honestly humorous. Even if your eyes linger for a moment, it's yours. No matter the price — the time — hell, even the place. There's no room for anything even relatively mediocre for you.

The day you met Megumi was the day he felt complete. If not for Megumi constantly being by your side, Gojo would've already worried himself to death! Sure, he gets a little jealous of when the two of you spend time together but that's normal, right?

There's not a moment when you aren't on his mind. In a very caring way, of course. Expect plenty of souvenirs from him, matching keychains being one of his personal favorite. But that's only when Gojo's not sneaking around his responsibilities (too much). If there's an opportunity, he'd take you out on several expensive trips, pushing his work onto Megumi to make up for it. Hey, it's not his fault he has a little too much favoritism towards you!

“Hey! That's no fair!” Gojo pouted. “You've been hanging out with Megumi more and more lately!”

You sat there, dumbfounded, at the behavior of the man you once admired wholeheartedly. In other words, your childish father. Maybe you'd be surprised if this were the first time it's happened; but, it's not.

At times you felt like his parent, but it was kinda of endearing in a sense. Gojo's strange mannerisms always kept you on your toes, patiently awaiting his next move with anticipation or even anxiety. But it wasn't all that bad.

You wouldn't give it up for the world.

Gojo is protective towards all his students, so you are no exception. Perhaps he'd be a bit more watchful of you but that's it. Gojo truly has no desire to monopolize your time, if anything he just wants to give you a better childhood than he had. But hey, teenagers need space! He gets that.

Sure he likes to joke around, but not at the expense of your well-being. The thought of you dying on his account is enough to send him spiraling. Man I'd hate to be whoever's on the receiving end.

“It's a shame, really. To end your life so early, that is.” The sorcerers' tone was upbeat yet seemingly forced. A tight lipped-smile adorned his lips, though it didn't reach his vibrant eyes. "But you've hurt someone extremely important to me. For that, you'll have to die.”

Gojo lowered to his heels, gazing lazily at the curse trembling before him. It was a rather hideous one at that. To think this thing almost caused you so much grief renders him ill. More so than the dark emotions brewing in his being the longer he watched it squirm.

Only then, did a single thought cross his mind. A thought that turned his cold smile warm — genuine, sinister even. “Hah! But don't worry, I'll make it worth your while. After all, being tortured by the strongest should be an honor.”

Your youth slips day by day, and with it your attention. It's only a matter of time before you go on to pursue a career in the adult world one day. The hourglass only has so much sand. Oh, that cruel side of the world that isn't made for such an oblivious kid — Satoru's kid at that.

Unlike Megumi, Gojo knows there's no real guarantee that you'll join the Jujutsu world. It's dangerous, so in a way he's relived by your lack of interest. However, if you attended Jujutsu Tech, then he could spend more time with you. Plus you're the child of the strongest, so there's no way you could lose!

“Wahh! My baby's growing up!” Gojo wails childishly, squishing his pale cheek against your own. “Please say you won't forget about Daddy!”

You scoff, peeling his lean arms from your shoulders. For someone so slim, he sure had a grip that could kill. “Dad, you're so dramatic. Of course I won't forget about you.”

He smiled, waving you off with a cheerful bye. Only for that same smile ti drop once you left.The genuinity of your words did little to soothe him. His heart churned in his chest as though it was being restricted by the sturdiest of rope.

You were growing up so fast he could hardly believe it. Soon enough you'll be moving out and starting a family of your own. Well, a new family plus him and Megumi of course!

As a father, his yandere tendencies aren't too noticeable to the naked eye. Some would argue that they dont exist. It's truly a side that Gojo never wants you to ever see. The opinions of others matter little in comparison to your own. Gojo desperately wants you to have the childhood he could not and he won't stop until you get just that. You deserve it.

GOJO SATORU isn't willing to get his hands dirty for just anyone. But it seems that when it comes to you and Megumi, he's more inclined to letting it happen.

Oh! Don't mind the blood on his hands. It's nothing, honestly! Just go hang out with Megumi for a bit until Gojo cleans up his little mess. Oh, and remember not to ask any unnecessary questions~!

#—🍁#x reader #platonic headcanons #platonic yandere #jjk megumi #jjk headcanons #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #platonic gojo #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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comatosebunny09 · 4 months

Note

When you say he (Astarion) is nervous about initiating a kiss with you/Tav, I see him pacing back and forth by the fire clearly not acting like himself until you/Tav tell him to call his tits.

Lmfao at the “calm his tits.” 😂😂😂

The deer you’re whittling is no longer interesting.

Instead, you’re intrigued by your love, wearing a path into the soil around the fire with how much he’s paced back and forth.

Your lips twitch into a smile. Whatever’s bothering him, you’ll get to the heart of it. It’s unlike Astarion to be so anxious. The knit between his brows doesn’t suit his handsome face.

You set your carving knife down, leaning back on your hands, feet dangling from the log. “Astarion,” you caution over the crackling fire.

His shoulders tense. It’s like he’s been caught indulging in a naughty secret. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy running jittery fingers through his hair. He dons that mask of nonchalance. You see right through it.

“Yes, love?”

You pat the space beside you. Your tone leaves no room for argument. “Come sit.”

Silence stretches between you, save for the ballad of the katydids inhabiting the forest around. The air is so tense, you could cut through it with a blade.

You raise a brow when his lips tremble around a reply. It never comes. Your stomach plummets. Maybe something truly is troubling him.

With a drop of his shoulders and a sigh, Astarion wanders to you, plopping down on the log. A good bit of distance rests between you. He’s rigid, avoiding your gaze at all costs. It’s hard not to when you look at him like that. A mixture of hurt and curiosity that makes something twinge in his chest.

Did you do something? Say something to offend him? You browse through the catalog of your mind for answers. Other than your usual banter, you can’t think of a single instance where you’ve done something to set him off.

You’ve called him beautiful. Touched him with explicit permission. Acknowledged his boundaries. So…why?

Warily, you inch closer until your thighs brush. Astarion stiffens even more, a strained sound pinched from his throat. You contemplate backing off, but…well, something tells you to press on tonight. At least with subtle advances.

Maybe he needs this.

Absently, your pinky smooths over the back of his hand on his thigh. Some silent encouragement. Something is eating away at him, but you’d rather he reveal it in his own time.

No sense in trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

“I—” begins Astarion, wheedling through the mess of your thoughts.

You turn hopeful eyes to him, quizzically tilting your head. Grow a little bolder, gently placing your hand over his. Angle yourself closer, urging him to continue.

He wears something of a pout. Looks at the ground, a little contemplative, a little annoyed. It’s cute. Better than the somberness he wore before.

His eyes flit back to you, and the air is siphoned from your lungs. You’ll never get used to those eyes. The beauty they possess, the love they seem to exude only for you.

Astarion engulfs your hand with his. Takes a deep breath, as if he’s about to reveal all the world’s secrets.

Finally, he ventures, “I…want to kiss you.”

You blink. Relief surges through your chest. The rigidness you once held sloughs off, replaced by a pitying smile.

Is that all?

“Alright,” you say. Quickly shift to angle your cheek towards him.

You anticipate the brush of cold lips against your skin. Something chaste and abrupt to make your body hum with affection. To leave it aching for more.

But it never comes.

Instead, you’re met with a chuckle. An arctic finger slips beneath your chin, encouraging your gaze to return to your beloved.

“No, darling,” he softly chides. “Not like that.”

You stare at him, bemused.

There’s a humored crinkle in his eye. Sluggishly, he etches a triangle between your eyes and lips with his darkening gaze. Thumb cruises over your chin, and your lips instinctively part.

Realization settles on your shoulders. Your mouth forms around a quiet oh.

It would be your first time kissing like this in a very long time. You’ve never pushed him further than the graze of your lips on his cheek, knuckles, or the crown of his head. So, pardon you for being a little out of sorts.

A little giddy.

You find your wits scattered amongst the clouds. Feel like you’re dreaming as the forest and campfire dwindle into beautiful bokeh around you.

“A-Alright. I would…like that,” you wistfully murmur. Unconsciously, you crane your body closer, your lids drooping under the weight of his spell.

Astarion sifts through the haze and leans closer, your cheek cupped adoringly in his palm. Your hand clasps around his wrist, the other scrunched in your lap.

You’ve but milliseconds to admire the curl of his lashes before his mouth descends on yours. Pillow-soft and gentle, and you pour the deftest sound into his body.

He breaks away before you’ve any time to lose yourself in the suppleness of his lips. You whine softly, chewing on your lip whilst he chuckles. You yearn for more. Always do.

But you’ll settle for this, idly stroking his wrist with your thumb as he presses your foreheads together, appearing weightless with a youthful smile rounding his lips.

#astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion drabble #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #softstarion #sorry #i went overboard #i used your ask as my excuse to write this travesty #also the little pout he wears when he confesses to you #it lives in my mind rent free

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

YOU MISSED A SPOT

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — kaveh loves to be intimate with you, yet in his eyes there's nothing that's possibly better than cleaning you up real good afterwards.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 1.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, unprotected and a bit rough, messy, oral (fem! receiving), cum eating, a little feral kaveh, he's just feeling himself

"y-yes.. this feels good."

two large palms generously shifted you in a most flaming direction while you began to archly choke upon your own boiling hot pants at the dizzy impact being placed on you, "please faster!" and not a single tender inch of you had been untouched because it was him who was sensibly handling you this night.

when kaveh closes the space and brims you half way, a twisted moan pries off his very lips, but he leaves his crushing cock inside of you because he requires you to taste him— each pivotal twitch of his veins or how your soft walls had been settling around his girth, the pumps he'd fill you with were so unbelievably skilled that it had you squeeze unawarely around him, once, twice, truly countless.

"fuck— so pretty." he laments unmindfully and drags himself deeper with the filthy squelching sounds of your cunt growing by a tenfold, much to his own keening pleasure. Kaveh admires you, all of you— his crimson eyes? they were so considerate, humane, peacefully cruising over your thumping chest where he followed your fingers playing with your stiff nipples.

"please, kaveh." you giddily mewl at him and keep your serious attention to where your warm bodies webbed into one another, deliberately emerging embarrassed by how increasingly smudged his leaking cock had gotten from your dripping liquids alone. "i'm so so close."

the outflowing sight of you was so unquestionably lewd and dirty, he essentially needed to gulp his budding saliva down additionally to get proper rid of the awful tie sprouting deep in his strained throat. Not at all was kaveh solely burning and hungry for your pretty figure or dominating shadows, but your weeping pussy that was made for him— he had been sure that this was the single case at hand.

from your acquired intimate position now— with handsome kaveh overpowering you from above, he eminently presses himself in your cunt. Little do you realize, you had gotten an immaculate view on his well carved stomach, his flawless firm muscles and how each curve was settled with sweat. Your glassy eyes roll back when he further forces his swollen length into your walls— an inch faster, more unparalleled, hotly sinking into your undiscovered places you never were able to guess could be reached in the first place.

at bottom, your glossy cunt took him flawlessly, like an obedient darling, guzzling him in without a single thought being wasted— because truthfully speaking, no words couldn't possibly describe this moment. Yet, humorously enough, in a way it was simple, being intimate with each other, but it wasn't the same experience when it's with someone who inhaled each and every square of your beauty, markedly when he too, viewed you as unconditional perfection in his glowing vermillion eyes.

"now, now." kaveh deeply hums into his sizzling chest and made sure to devilishly emphasize his falsely innocent words with a fastened push against your plump cunt, daringly obtaining all the slicked arousal on his lower area when gifting you another pointed shove in your core, one more, kaveh desired to be drowned by the honeyed sense of listening to the mess you made— which, evidently, he was the cause of it. "fuck— there!"

remarkably fueled by the inner burning lust, kaveh declines into your perspiring skin and heaves you to himself, his sizable hands swiftly trawling your face to him so he could sloppily kiss you while crowding you— jamming his milky whites into your insides within a brimming embracement as he dug his tip in greater.

you whine out in packed bliss, your frame fervently shuffling on all ends when you chargingly clinched onto him with your fingernails digging straight dagger like pain into his delicate back.

kaveh leaves you to it— he baths in seeing you so stimulated by his cock when boundless butterflies crossed your stomach as you released on his member.

you appeared fucked out with your eyes hanging low, even more eminently when your dampened back vaulted off the soiled mattress to accessorize the twisted movements of your body— it had a significant hold on you, the tasteful overstimulation of the somewhat fluttering sensation catching you in the best possible way.

those exposed and biting moments after, when kaveh keeps himself locked inside of your stretched hole. A ritornelle of ponderous pants were traded by you yet none of you decided to bury the silence for a minute— you settled to carry on and rest into each others comfort, hugged close and intermeshed in your arms.

you lean into his soaked neck and his little hair strands tickle your nose, severing out a feebly smile form your lips, "i'm not done yet." kaveh states bluntly, tracing his tender hand over your hips to pull himself off you— though keeping his cock buried in the mess, knowing that if he were to pull out of you now, all the tasty sweetness would just go to waste, really, "wait, you already want to go for another round?"

"no, don't worry love, not now at least." you laced your eyes on your boyfriend with a lost assertion. "you need to rest." kaveh was cautious when he dragged his— still part erect cock, out, next expertly squeezing your sore thighs into your chest to have a much finer view of your fluttering hole.

"i hate seeing it leave you." he shamelessly admits without moving a mere muscle on his face— you didn’t know if he meant his cum or his cock, maybe it’s the hatred of both of them leaving your sensitive cunt. He humorously places his cock on your clit to tap his red tip on your inflamed pussy, handling you daintily.

"it's too good to be wasted, don't you think?"

you lock your lower lip in between your teeth and watch kaveh decline his face down south, firstly planting a wet kiss on your sweaty chest, next keeping his attention there to trail down your pretty cleavage, lowering once further to your stomach until his head was finally in between your parted legs— his exhaled breath ghosting right above your slicked up core.

unbeknownst to anything that was currently happening, you look at him in straight disbelief, "what are you— ah!" and abruptly whine with your entire body uncontrollably jolting up when he experimentally licked a sloppy line in between your puffy folds. "wha— kaveh!"

"closer, i want you closer." he whispers into your pussy, you knew exactly what he was referring to and kept your hips lifted up. He squeezed your thighs in his palms and obediently cleans up the oozed out arousal of your hole, yours and his own mixed up milky liquids stretching on his tongue. "fuck— you're crazy." you let your hand fall on the back of his head to shamelessly grind your clit into his nose that was repeatedly nuzzling past the flesh.

"no i‘m starving." kaveh mutters with the lower vibrations of his voice webbing a newfound pleasing into your core. He glares up at you for once to watch your shy expression, you wouldn't know but you looked absolutely sexy in his eyes, when you nervously wetted your lips and heaved in short trembles, still exhausted but additionally aroused by this.

the sharp taste of his own cum with your juices was just as he expected, newish but driven with burning hunger. His eyes roll back when you moan out his name in stitched together letters, mewling out babbles, which you weren't sure what you were trying to voice in the first place.

kaveh's tongue kept up on proficient tempo and smoother down on your entrance where the most slick was gathered at, quickly fizzling his slimy muscle in and relaxing his jaw, dragging his tongue in circles while almost forgetting to breathe out properly, turning his eyes watery from both lust and a foggy mind.

you bite back the upcoming moans unthinkably while holding his head soundly in between your legs with his end goal being exposed now.

he’s shuffling his tongue on all the right places until you're entirely cleaned up and ready to go on for yet another round, so he can later drop another thick load into you, grounding his whites into your insides until his ribbons of white settled around you completely, covering you in his seed.

after that, kaveh will repeat the new, yet sinfully intriguing and perverted motion once again.

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dreadsuitsamus · 9 months

Text

Jitters | Kakashi Hatake x Reader |

author's note: i'm back with more papashi, babes! this is set in the same au verse as the others, though can be read standalone! if you'd like to read the others and get caught up on some certain background info, you can find the other works in my masterlist!

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader

warnings: naruto and sasuke are the adopted sons of reader and kakashi, modern au, fluff

The dreaded day has come, though it's you that's calm and collected about it. The boys are old enough to ride the bus to school, they want to ride the bus to school, and after one last summer vacation of your boys being your little babies, they've grown up just a little bit.

"We're gonna be firs' graders, Mama!" Naruto argued with you and his father, Sasuke nodding beside him with a determined frown.

"It's time to let them be men already?" Kakashi mutters into the pillow as you shut off the noisy alarm clock.

An ungraceful snort leaves you. "Men that require Mommy's kisses for their boo-boos are hardly men."

"To be fair to them," Kakashi flips over onto his back, gazing at you with a little curve of his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. "Your kisses have healing properties."

Laughing gently at your husband's silliness, your palm finds his chest just as your lips press to the scar over his left eye. Humming in disappointment, you don't pull away far. "Strange, it didn't heal that."

"It's an old scar; that'll take a lot more kisses." Those big hands find your body, one attaching to your hip while the other cups your face and guides you down for a kiss.

It's warm under these covers, your legs tangled during your soft kiss. Mornings like these have only just started coming back now that Naruto doesn't wake up so early and Sasuke doesn't sneak into your bed in the middle of the night nearly as often as he used to. Kakashi's lengthy fingers dig into the fabric of your nightgown, twisting it tightly as he wills the kiss to last.

As soon as you part, you'll be off to wake the boys up for their first day of first grade. And he's just not quite ready for that step.

Your lips vibrate with a soft laugh, privy to his intentions but unable to humor him long. "Darling…"

Kakashi flips your positions, slotting himself above you and pinning your hands over your head delicately, his forefingers and thumbs massaging at your wrists. "Hmm?"

"You don't want the boys to be late on their first day, do you?"

"That's certainly fine by me." Your husband murmurs, his nose finding a lovely spot on your shoulder to rub against. "My boys are safe here, home with Momma and Papa…"

"My love, they need to go to school." You coo up at Kakashi, watching as he pouts at just how reasonable you are.

"I don't want them to." He mumbles, the pitiful thing. Letting those boys grow up is killing him! They tie their own shoes, wipe their own faces, they're better than him at video games now! Before he knows it, they'll start asking for advice on girls! As if he knows how the hell he landed such a perfect wife??

"Relax." You wiggle your wrists from his weak hold, cupping his face gently. "They're not leaving for college. You're still going to have to wrestle Naruto into the bathtub tonight, and Sasuke is definitely going to want to snuggle after school to calm his nerves after such an extensive amount of time around people. Our boys aren't babies anymore, but they're still our babies. They're not going anywhere."

"I hate when you talk sense into me." Kakashi sighs and rolls off of you, laying forlornly as you take the opportunity to get out of bed and head down the hall.

Peeking inside the boys' bedroom, you smile at the sleepy kids. Naruto's comforter hangs off his bed, mimicking the boy himself as more than half of himself hangs precariously off the side. And the boy wonders why you and Kakashi would never let them have a bunk bed! Sasuke's curled into a tight ball, blankets secured around him in a cocoon of warmth, his old baby blankie featuring a baby Bugs Bunny and friends no doubt held tightly to his chest underneath the pile.

"Boys…" Your voice is gentle, neither boy moving just yet. It's been a long summer vacation, and kindergarten was hardly the true school experience. This is the first year of twelve and they've got a long way to go and many early days ahead of them— and if Kakashi were to have his way, they'd get to sleep in for a whole extra hour.

But if there were certainly any time for you to put your foot down, it's now.

"Time for school!" Your cheerful smile is genuine as you saunter in, watching Naruto wake with a dramatic startle and finish falling off of his bed. There's not even a chance for concern to blossom in your chest, though, as the little blond ball of sunshine is up and jumping around.

"Firs' day o' school!"

Your raven-haired sweetheart, however, isn't quite as excitable as his brother.

"Shut up!" He grumbles, throwing his favorite Squishmallow at Naruto. It lands perfectly in Naruto's face, and before you've even opened your mouth to defuse things, Naruto jumps right onto Sasuke with a hearty yell and a swing of the stuffed animal right back where it came from.

"Hey!" Sasuke growls and just like that, the boys are wrestling around, Sasuke's blankets getting twisted as his legs fight for an opening to better kick his brother with.

You sigh to yourself and begin the process of intervention, the task not undoable but your hips are certainly getting too old for this. "Stop it, boys! This is not how we get ready for school!"

"HE STARTED IT!" They yell back, defending themselves whilst simultaneously pushing at one another.

"Naruto! Sasuke!"

The boys freeze while a satisfied shiver follows the curve of your spine. Oh, how you love Kakashi's Dad Voice™! Your husband stands at the doorway, hands in the pockets of his sweats as his sharp eyes narrow. "Start getting ready for school, boys. Do you want to miss the bus?"

Your precious boys gasp, as if they'd forgotten what they've been so excited for! Feeling safe in the decision to start cooking breakfast, your husband walks hand in hand with you down the stairs. Finding one specific spot on his bicep to be too kissless, you can't help planting a soft smooch just before you enter the kitchen. "You've sure turned that frown upside down."

"You know I don't like it when they give you trouble."

"Tch, they hardly know any other way to act." You smile to yourself though, knowing that it's not their intention to be little pains in the butt.

Kakashi pulls out a carton of eggs, quickly getting to work on scrambling them as you slice up fresh fruits. You work around one another beautifully, occasionally sharing a small kiss as you pass on by, and before you know it the boys are down and sitting at the dining room table, bellies hungry and bouncing with nervousness. Your husband plates the table while you give the boys a glass of their preferred juices, orange for Naruto and apple for Sasuke, and he pressed quick kisses onto each boy's head.

"Eat up, boys. You've got a big day ahead of you." You hum softly, sitting across from your husband at the small, squared mahogany table. It's always been enough to accommodate your small family, but as you watch the boys mow down their omelets and trade between their pineapples and cantaloupe, your heart cracks at the idea that the table isn't as big as it used to be. Certainly by the end of the school year, you'll have to get a bigger one.

And watching as your husband plucks a strawberry from each boy's plate, you smile warmly at the potential of maybe even having an extra place setting at the table by the beginning of the next school year.

"Alright," Kakashi claps his hands once breakfast is mere crumbs on Naruto's shirt. "Go brush your teeth and get your backpacks."

The boys scurry off, making a contest out of everything they do and racing to be the first to the sink. You keep still, listening with a little smile as Kakashi comes to stand behind you and work those large, magical hands on your shoulders. "What's on your mind?" He hums at the shell of your ear, squeezing at a particularly sore spot that you weren't even aware was aching.

"They're really growing up so fast."

"They are." He murmurs, his warm palms sliding along your shoulders. "It's not too late to keep 'em home."

Snorting rather ungracefully, you shake your head and listen to the sound of the footsteps upstairs. "Wouldn't you rather… Never mind." You shake your head at the thought— two boys are already hard enough to raise.

Your husband almost knows your mind better than you do, though. And he certainly picks up what you've left off, humming thoughtfully as he ponders the idea. "I'm not against it. It could be fun."

"I need a little more than 'fun' to go for it." You laugh and accept your husband's kiss to your cheek, officially tabling the discussion as the race back downstairs continues.

"I win!" Naruto's breathless, toothpaste staining his shirt and you pinch the bridge of your nose at the sight. His teacher is going to think the absolute worst of you and your husband.

"Good job." Kakashi spares a hand to high five the boy, softly pinching Sasuke's pouty cheek after. "Get your shoes on and then we'll go to the bus stop."

Masters at the art of shoe-tying, their laces are quickly knotted and Naruto slips his little hand into yours once you've walked out of the house. The bus stop is just at the corner, not even three houses down from home, but you can't help the relief that relaxes your bones at the way both of the boys reach for a parent's hand. They're getting bigger, but definitely still far from grown.

The neighborhood kids are gathered at the bus stop and the boys join their friends, leaving you and the other parents to socialize while waiting for the bus. Kakashi, not much of a social butterfly but not wanting to be rude, slips his arm around your waist and keeps a watchful eye out for the bus with an occasional witty comment that makes the other parents laugh. Perhaps it's his paranoia from his time in the military, but he just won't be able to truly relax until the very moment the boys are safely back home.

The long-awaited, certainly dreaded day has come. The bus rolls up, some kids hardly even offering their parents a goodbye before sprinting to the bus, and in fairness, this isn't the first rodeo for some of them. But your boys both come up for quick hugs, their eyes bright as they pull away and run to the doors together, hopping on and quickly finding themselves a seat before the bus pulls away.

"Yeah." Kakashi murmurs into your ear as you both wave at the kids, the bus pulling off and heading towards the school. "Let's have another one."

#kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto #naruto shippuden x reader #x reader #reader insert #kakashi imagine #papashi #fic #papashi au

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5starl1ght · 4 months

Text

Daniel ricciardo x horner!Reader

Boss's daugther

A/n: I got this idea from someone else when I was scrolling through tumblr. So please don't come for me. And while we wait for the poll to end here you go!

Mesterlist

Y/N Horner had always been passionate about journalism. Ever since she was a little girl, she loved to read newspapers and magazines, watch documentaries and interviews, and write her own stories and articles. She dreamed of becoming a famous reporter who would travel the world and expose the truth. She worked hard to achieve her goal, studying journalism at university and landing a job at a prestigious media outlet. She quickly rose through the ranks, earning a reputation as a fearless and talented journalist who could cover any topic, from politics and business to sports and entertainment. She had interviewed celebrities, politicians, activists, and even royalty. She had won awards and accolades for her work. She had everything she wanted in her career, but nothing in her personal life.

Y/N was notoriously single, and she liked it that way. She didn't have time for romance, nor did she feel the need for it. She was happy with her independence and freedom, and she didn't want to compromise that for anyone. She had dated a few people in the past, but none of them had lasted long. They either couldn't handle her busy schedule, her ambitious nature, or her adventurous spirit. They either bored her, annoyed her, or betrayed her. She decided that she was better off alone, and she focused all her energy on her work.

Her father, Christian Horner, the team principal of Red Bull Racing, was not happy with her decision. He loved his daughter more than anything, and he was proud of her achievements, but he also wanted her to find someone who could make her happy and give him some grandchildren. He knew that Y/N was not getting any younger, and he worried that she would end up lonely and regretful if she didn't settle down soon. He had tried to set her up with various men over the years, but none of them had impressed Y/N or caught her interest. He had almost given up hope, until he thought of Daniel Ricciardo.

Daniel Ricciardo was Christian's former driver and a close friend of the family. He had joined Red Bull Racing in 2014, and had quickly become one of the best drivers in Formula One. He had won seven races, 31 podiums, and three pole positions with the team, before leaving for Renault in 2019. He was also one of the most popular and charismatic drivers on the grid, known for his infectious smile, his cheeky humor, his daring overtakes, and his love for life. He was charming, funny, handsome, and adventurous. He was also single and looking for love.

Christian had always liked Daniel as a person and as a driver. He had seen him grow from a young rookie to a mature champion. He had supported him through his highs and lows, his victories and defeats, his joys and sorrows. He had treated him like a son, and Daniel had treated him like a father. They had remained in touch even after Daniel's departure from Red Bull Racing, and they still met occasionally for lunch or dinner. Christian knew that Daniel was unhappy at Renault, and that he missed his old team and his old friends. He also knew that Daniel was lonely, and that he wanted to find someone who could share his passion for racing and for life.

Christian thought that Daniel would be perfect for Y/N. They were both successful in their fields, they both loved to travel and explore new places, they both had a great sense of humor and a positive attitude, they both were loyal and honest to their friends and family, they both were attractive and fit. They also knew each other since childhood, as Daniel had often visited Christian's house when he was racing for Red Bull Racing. They had always gotten along well, teasing each other and laughing together. Christian thought that they would make a great couple if they gave each other a chance.

Christian decided to play matchmaker and invited Daniel to join them for dinner at his house one night, hoping that sparks would fly between him and Y/N. He didn't tell either of them about his plan,

he just said that he wanted to catch up with Daniel and see how he was doing. He also asked Y/N to come over for dinner as well,

saying that he missed spending time with her and that he wanted to talk to her about something important.

He hoped that they would be pleasantly surprised to see each other,

and that they would hit it off right away.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #Daniel ricciardo x horner!reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #formula one

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jupiter-letters · 5 months

Text

Loki having a crush on you headcanons:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: Very brief discussion of violence.

A/N: This will be Avenger!Loki cause I choose to be delusional about him dying in infinifty war. He made it to Earth and decided to make amends yadda yadda yadda, everything is good. Sorry if this long I needed to get all my thoughts out!🙇‍♀️

Being generally uninterested when Tony does a mission debrief with everyone in the conference room. However when you walk in he perks up a bit and sits up a little straighter. He doesn’t really greet you though, he’ll be a little closed off at first. That doesn’t stop him from glancing at you 2 or 3 times until the meeting is over.👀👀 No one really notices his staring but if they did they’d assume he doesn’t like you at first.

Among other people it looks more like a glare than admiration, Thor does notice after a few times and pulls him aside to confront him. “Has Y/N slighted you in some way brother? You’re always staring at them with such intensity.” This confuses Loki cause #1 he didn’t think anybody would notice and #2 Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“No?? It’s this midgardian decor, so bland. It helps to move my eyes around to keep things interesting. When it comes to Y/N their choice of garment is most amusing, the lack of proper coordination is quite hilarious.” (LIES!)Deflect, deflect, deflect. To Loki it’s better for people to think he doesn’t like you than to seem vulnerable, he’s still got some growing to do.

He won’t even realize that he likes you until much later. Once you get over the hump of him pretending not to like you, a beautiful friendship blooms. He hasn’t had a lot of people he’s gotten really close to other than Thor, his mother and Valkyrie. That’s one wall down, a couple more to go. As his friend you appreciate his witty comebacks and dry sense of humor. You confide in him for his many, many, mannnyy years of wisdom(he hates it when you call him old man wisdom). The fact that you choose to tell him your secrets and have such fun conversations makes things worse for him.

When you two talk together on the balcony of the avengers compound discussing team mates and funny things that have happened around the compound, he gets this warm feeling in his chest. Looking at you laughing at your own joke, you can barely get the words out. Any other person would look ridiculous but you, he can’t help but look at you with such fondness. After you’ve stopped laughing you see him looking at you with such joy in his eyes and a soft smile. “What” you question. He chuckles and looks down at his hands, “Nothing, it’s just- you’re lucky you became an avenger instead of an entertainer, your jokes might need work.”

He always saves you some food or a drink at Tony’s parties and other events, it’s always just a little bit but he just wants to make sure you don’t miss out. 💓

Loki always goes out of his way to keep you safe on missions, if you get overwhelmed by multiple enemies you see a flurry of green magic crackling around you and the enemies are all gone. You could even see a dagger fly past your head hitting a guy about to clobber you over the head. Natasha seems to notice the favoritism after a bomb goes off in a HYDRA facility, Loki uses his body to shield you from the blast. (She knows good and well he could’ve made a shield for all 3 of you😏.)

When both Natasha and Thor “gang up on him”(his words) about it he deflects again saying he’d do it for any of his friends you just so happened to be closer…so it’s not a big deal. They both smirk and give knowing looks to one another. Thor knows Loki better than anyone, he knows Loki values self-preservation more than anything and to do something so selfless even if he has changed a bit, he must really like you.

Thor just hugs him and says “I’m happy for you.” and Loki is like ???? Everyone seems to know about his crush except you and him. But when he finally realizes he likes you romantically it hits him like a freight train. Everything feels so new after that moment, he has an existential crisis lollll. He’s always been a charmer, a smooth talker, silver tongued. Now he gets a little more nervous talking to you, when he sees you his heart races. It scares him how much he likes you, you make him soft. He values your opinion, he worries about you, he wants to make sure you’re alright. The thing he’s worried about the most is if you’ll like him back.

Loki’s still got some self image issues, growing up second best and later finding out he’s a frost giant. In his mind his past and being a frost giant are perfectly good reasons to reject him. In the back of his mind there is a glimmer of hope stemming from your unwavering loyalty and kindness toward him. He can’t ask you to overlook the things he’s done but he does want to be better, for you, for everyone else.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

#that finale gutted me such a perfect end for him #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel headcanons #loki x black!reader #loki laufeyson x black!reader #loki season 2 #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #loki laufeyson x reader

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wanderinginksplot · 11 months

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What to watch during the writer's strike:

Don't pay attention to companies who blame writers for delayed movies and television shows! The WGA strike comes from people who are trying to make things better - not only for themselves and other writers, but the films and tv shows we all love.

While we wait for a resolution, I thought I would share some existing television shows that I enjoy. I didn't bother with too much well-known stuff. Instead, I focused on shows I feel many people missed because of the glut of content that all premiered at once over the last few years. (I may make another one of these for movies later on, but this one is about tv.)

[Update: Movie version here]

Feel free to add on! Just try to give a quick, spoiler-free synopsis for the show and the streaming service where it can be found.

List under the cut!

Netflix:

The Good Place (2016-2020) - A 'bad' woman is accidentally sent to heaven. She and her moral philosophy professor of a soulmate try to save her soul by making her a better person. Genre: Comedy with deeper implications and one of the best endings in television history.

Russian Doll (2019-2022) - When Nadia dies at her birthday party, she's more than a little confused to come back. Especially when it keeps happening. Genre: Time loop drama with a wicked sense of humor and a dash of theoretical physics. Potentially not ended?

Narcos (2015-2017) - The fight of the American DEA and the Colombian army against cocaine kingpin Pablo Escobar and his reign of terror. Genre: Drama with thrilling elements. Lots of violence, some sex and language. Lots of subtitles. Features Pedro Pascal and Boyd Holbrook, if you need some extra incentive.

Derry Girls (2018-2022) - Five teens grow up in Derry, Ireland in the 1990s, amid the final years of the Troubles, a low-level war that lasted roughly 30 years. Genre: Comedy. Some sexual content, some religious content, less violence than you would expect, and the best nun ever to appear on film.

Arcane (2021-?) - Two sisters are alienated when one accidentally kills their adoptive father. Their different paths threaten the fragile peace of a city already on the breaking point. Genre: Drama with elements of action-adventure. Though it's animated, Arcane's animation is beautifully done with tantalizing steampunk elements that will keep you invested.

Disney+:

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008-2020) - If you haven't seen any of the Star Wars animated series, this is a good place to start. Set in the time gap between Episode II and Episode III, this series helps flesh out Anakin Skywalker and the Jedi. It is also a great introduction to some of the characters and plots of The Mandalorian. (Star Wars: Rebels is another good choice.) Genre: Adventure with some drama. Violence and death are a large part of The Clone Wars, but it's usually appropriate for children. The clone troopers will steal your heart!

Gravity Falls (2012-2016) - Dipper Pines and his sister Mabel are sent to Gravity Falls, Oregon to live with their great-uncle for their summer break. But when Dipper finds a mysterious book in the woods, the pair find that Gravity Falls is far more mysterious than it seems... Genre: Adventure with a lot of comedy. Though it's billed as a children's cartoon, Gravity Falls is an intriguing watch with mystery subplots that will keep anyone guessing. It also features a famously strong and cohesive series ending. I was in my late 20s when I first watched this and I was still invested!

Daredevil (2015-2018) - After being blinded as a young boy, Matthew Murdock trained his other senses to replace the sight that he lost. He uses his skills to protect the helpless in the New York City neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. Genre: Action and superhero. Features a lot of incredibly choreographed violence. (Jessica Jones is also an excellent show to watch, especially if you think of David Tennant as the consummate 'good guy'. He's got range!)

HBO Max (Just 'Max' now, I guess):

Ghosts (2019-2023) - Petty roommate squabbles don't stop just because you're dead! Alison and her husband Mike inherit a house, then a near-death experience allows Alison to see its ghostly inhabitants. Chaos and humor ensue as the ghosts try to adjust to the house's new owners. Genre: Humor. Ghosts is a British sitcom, but since the writers are comedians (writing and performing in Horrible Histories), the show is done in a style that feels more natural to American viewers. Hint: watch the BBC version, not the American one. They're fairly similar, but definitely not the same!

Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) - A pie-maker with the ability to bring back the dead helps to solve murders. He's helped by his once-dead childhood sweetheart. Genre: Comedy with some dramatic elements. Some of the CGI-heavy moments haven't aged particularly well, but the show has a unique premise and an incredibly talented cast!

Hulu:

Abbott Elementary (2021-?) - This mockumentary series showcases an inner-city elementary school in Philadelphia. The teachers and administration do their best for the kids, but they're constrained by budgets and the limitations of the educational system itself. Genre: Comedy mockumentary. Though Abbott Elementary is fictional, some of the issues brought up are all too real. This is a funny and incisive look at the American public school system.

Amazon Prime:

Fleabag (2016-2019) - The unnamed protagonist of the show struggles through life on her own with limited support from her alienated family and the memories of her recently deceased best friend. Genre: Comedy with lots of dramatic elements. Lots of sexual content and references, some language, breaking the fourth-wall, and several characters you just long to hit. I watched the second season in a single day, that's how good this was.

Unknown Streaming Service:

Black Sails (2014-2017) - This prequel to Treasure Island features elements from the book, original characters, and real pirates from history in a setting that emphasizes realism. Captain Flint and his crew search for a legendary prize... one that might allow them to claim Nassau for their own. Genre: Action and adventure. Think Game of Thrones, but with pirates. Incredibly well-written and well-acted with gorgeous scenery, LGBTQ representation, and just enough historical accuracy to keep things grounded. Black Sails also boasts one of the best endings ever given for a television show.

Like I said, please feel free to reblog and add your own television show recommendations onto this list! There are plenty of things to watch and plenty of ways to support the WGA strike that don't involve giving in to big studios.

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spiderism · 10 months

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Miguel’s conducting a census on the spider-verse when he lands himself on 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟕 – has no prior information since this is his initial visit, but on first glance recognizes that this is Nueva York; that usually means that the local superhero is Miguel O’Hara, or at least another variant of him. Only he finds out that here, it’s actually someone named Web-Shot, a souped-up version of his own late wife.

"Cariño." It was easier to say before – when everything was right, when his entire world hadn't collapsed in on itself. Now, the word feels strange. His brain reacts as if no time's passed at all; it takes effort for his mouth to form around each of the vowels and the consonants, though – like a rusted cog forced into service after being made stiff from years of disuse.

And while you may walk and talk like her, you’re not. He tells himself not to be fooled by the way your face lights up when you see him, by the way your laughter fills the space between the two of you, and by the way you still tell jokes at his expense.

But then you take the few steps necessary to close the distance to get to him, wrap your arms around his frame like he’s just come home after a long day of being out. It’s all too familiar – your body folding into his, how well the pieces fit together, the softness that he remembers so well; it’s every single inch of his wife that had been catalogued and filed away in the back of his mind for safekeeping – dust-ridden archives that he’d never thought he’d dig up again. You’re a memory in the flesh.

“Web-Shot, because—”

“You shoot webs. That’s cute,” he says in a dry tone.

“Alright, then. Let’s hear yours. You got something better?”

“Spider-man. It’s simple. Clean. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Wow, original. Was ‘Daddy Long Legs’ already taken?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. I see your sense of humor is consistent.”

“It’s why you fell for me, isn’t it?”

“Among other things,” he murmurs. “Pain in my ass—”

He asks where your Miguel is, needs to know if the two of you are together, but finds out that he died three months ago – fell from a clocktower during a bad fight he wasn’t supposed to be at, snapped his neck clean in half from the tension when you tried to catch him with your webbing and he ricocheted back up from the concrete like a damn bungee cord. The ring was in his pocket; he was supposed to propose that night before everything went to shit. So your time ended with him fast, early. Before you even really got to start your lives together.

And this other Miguel, the one who shows up in your universe alive (sure) and well (debatable), gives you some insight to his world. His wife was a romantic – an idealist, a dreamer. He’s always been pragmatic – a man of science, an engineer, doing everything within his realm of possibility to make her visions come true. It’s been a long time since he talked about his history and his family: how he proposed, where they had the wedding, his daughter – the way everything was good and perfect until it wasn’t.

After spending the night with you on the Empire State Building, he realizes how much you’re like his wife. It hits him hard, brings up too many emotions to the surface that he’d been tamping down all these years.

Nothing about any of this is fair. And it’s sad, heartbreaking. Especially—

“I didn’t get to grow old with you.”

“We could’ve had a lifetime together and it still wouldn’t have been enough. You get that, right?”

You convince him to stay. Try to, at least. He can be your Miguel, and it would all be so easy. He can take his retired wedding ring off the chain around his neck and slip it on where it belongs.

But it’s not possible. He tells you that much – what can happen, the repercussions that ripple out and affect the multiverse web. Because he’s already attempted that – wouldn’t have given up without trying to get you back.

A part of him wants you to say it one last time. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Instead, he gets:

“Every version of me loves every version of you. And even though I haven’t gotten to see it for myself, I know that there’s no universe where that isn’t true.”

Before he leaves, you ask if he thinks there’s any chance the two of you are allowed to be happy, allowed to live normal lives in all of the places he’s seen.

He tells you that he has: breakfast on the balcony, slow Sunday mornings, and weekend fútbol tourneys with your daughter. This story ends on a good note, but he doesn’t mention that it only exists inside his head.

#i was a lil too lazy to write the full version #honestly i was too lazy to properly format this and put angst warning so you can yell at me if you want #no i did not proofread #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o hara x reader

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alwaysonthemend · 11 months

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A Night of Revelry | JTK

Author's Note: Here it is! My second GVF fic! This one got away from me a little bit and ended up a lot longer than I meant it to be. But oh well, Jake just has that effect on me. Again, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Summary: The boys are finally back home on a hiatus from tour and are enjoying some much needed rest and recovery. A dinner party at the Kiszka's house leads to you and Jake admitting some long kept secrets to each other. A night of revelry, indeed.

Content Warnings: mentions of being drunk, fingering (f. receiving), hand jobs (f. receiving), p. in v. sex, unprotected sex (ya'll know better!) swearing, dom Jakey (yes, that's a warning) 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4544

Preview:

“Since you want to cum so bad,” Jake says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

But as you started to spend more time with him, you discovered that he wasn’t always that quiet. When he’s around his brothers, or Danny, or other close friends and family, Jake has a wicked sense of humor that can have the whole room clutching their sides with laughter. His dry sarcasm and witty rebuttals are unmatched – even by Josh. Not only is Jake hilarious, you soon discovered, but he loves to talk if it’s about the right subjects. He’ll talk for ages about films he likes or dislikes, or he’ll go on rants about things he reads, or podcasts he listens to. And of course he’ll talk for ages about his music. His eyes light up when he’s excited about a topic, and in those moments, you can see the same animatedness and excitement that his twin has.

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

From the very first moment that you met Jake, the man had been an enigma. He was quiet – content to allow others to fill the silence for him. At first, you’d mistaken his reservedness for shyness. But as you got to know him, you found that he is by no means a shy man. He’s quiet, sure. But he’s confident in himself. Confident to dress as he wishes and to like the things he does without a care in the world. From there, you had assumed that his quietness must be a result of growing up in a household with Josh. Josh loves to talk and you had figured that Jake was simply allowing him to do so. And for a time, that was that. Jake was the moon to Josh’s sun and was simply content to let others fill the silence for him.

The first time you saw Jake play on stage, you saw yet another side of him that you had never seen before. Seeing him up on that stage changed something in you. He commanded attention. From the way he threw his head back as he played to the way he muttered under his breath to his guitar, everything about the man oozed confidence and sex appeal. You’d gone into the show with a growing crush on him, but you left completely head over heels for the man. Time passes, and you only find yourself more and more in love with him as the days go on. And as much as you want more than just friendship, you figure that it’s best to keep your burgeoning feelings to yourself. Jake is a sweetheart – always showing you kindness whenever the two of you hang out. But he’s so out of your league it’s almost funny. He’s a goddamn rockstar, for goodness sake! He could get just about any woman in the world if he really wanted to and you’re fairly confident that out of all of them, you wouldn't be the top choice.

There are times when you think that maybe, just maybe, he might have feelings for you too. He’s always so attentive to you when you spend time with him – remembering little things that you tell him and always seeming to know when you’re having a bad day. And every now and again he brushes his fingertips over yours when he hands you something or his hand will ghost over your waist when he passes. But you try not to linger on those moments too much. He’s a gentleman who always makes the people around him feel at ease and you realize that it’s just the way Jake is. He’s too kind for his own good (and your own good) so you do your best to push the feelings down.

It’s nights like this night, though, that make crushing those feelings down so difficult. Tours are on a temporary hiatus and the band members are back home for some much needed R & R. And tonight, Karen had invited all of the Kiszka siblings, Danny, and several other family members and friends over for an intimate night of stories and spending time with one another. Dinner had been loud and exciting – as all meals with the Kiszkas are, and now the guests are all intermingling amongst themselves as the sun sets into night. Some are inside, polishing off the dessert and staying out of the summer heat. Others are gathered outside around the fire, sharing stories as Jake and Sam gently strum on their guitars. Naturally, you find yourself gravitating towards where Jake is. You’d just spent a good 30 minutes talking inside with Danny about whether Kurt Cobain actually wanted to kill himself or if he was just trying to get away from Courtney Love (you favor the latter), but now you’re feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always stirs whenever you’re away from Jake for too long. There’s a part of you that’s embarrassed for how attached to Jake you’ve become. You’re independent and consider yourself to be a fairly rational individual, but there’s something about Jake that makes all that fly out the window. You want – no, you need to be close to him. He’s gone so much during the year and you miss him like a limb that’s been chopped off. His absence aches with phantom pains and you figure that you deserve the reprieve of spending time with him while he’s here.

You take a seat in one of the empty lawn chairs next to him and he gives you a small, private smile, before turning back to Ronnie as she tells a story. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol and his dark, wide brimmed hat lies discarded at his feet. You tune everyone out, and instead allow yourself to watch Jake’s fingers as he plays the guitar. No matter how many times you see and hear him play, his talent never fails to make you feel all warm inside. He loves his music, and his playing reflects that love. It’s like he’s sharing a piece of himself with you all – and you’re thankful that you get to hear it like this. He’s beautiful. That’s the only word you can think of to describe the way he looks right now.

“You alright?” He asks, noticing the absent look in your eyes.

“Hm?” Your eyes snap up from his hands to his eyes. “Oh. Ya, I’m good. Just tired, is all.” You can feel your cheeks grow hot as there’s no way he didn’t see you staring at him.

“Too much alcohol, darling?” He laughingly says in his fake British accent that he’s so fond of.

“Yeah,” you laugh in relief, thankful for the easy excuse. “Drank a little too much wine, I think.”

He smiles and immediately you feel at ease again.

“Happens to the best of us.” He says wistfully, back in his normal accent. “I myself have also partaken a little too much tonight.”

“You?” You gasp dramatically, “Jacob Kiszka drinking too much? I’m shocked.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“I know. It’s not like me at all.”

You both turn your attention back to the rest of the group as Josh stands up and dramatically tells a story about something or other, though you still are entirely too aware of Jake’s presence next to you. He puts his guitar down and helps himself to another generous glass of bourbon as the night goes on. The night bleeds from too late into too early and you feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to cloud your thoughts. You stopped drinking a while ago and your buzz from earlier in the night has all but disappeared. You stare into the fire, the warmth from the flame coupled with the voices of your friends lulling you into a relaxed trance.

“Care to join me for a smoke?” Jake asks, startling you from your reverie.

“You know I don’t smoke.” You scold him lightly.

“I know.” He says, rising from his seat and extending his hand towards you. “Join me anyways?”

You nod and take his hand, allowing him to lead you around the front of the house to a more secluded area. From here, you can just barely make out the voices of the others as you round the corner out of eyesight. Jake leans back against the house and turns his face up to the sky. He looks painfully beautiful like that. You swallow and look away.

“Thought we were coming over here so you could smoke.” You say, following his line of sight up to the sky.

“Changed my mind.” He shrugged, turning to look at you. “Come next to me.”

You pin him with a confused stare but comply. You walk over and lean your own shoulder against the house, careful to leave space between the two of you.

“I’m glad you could be here tonight. I missed you while we were gone.” He’s looking back at the sky now and you take a moment to watch him. His cheeks are still flushed and his hair is pulled back in a loose bun. You don’t respond for a moment, carefully choosing your next words.

“I’m sure you missed being home with all the craziness of being on the road.” You finally say. “I’m glad you all are back. It gets boring here without you guys to cause chaos.” You laugh, looking back up to the sky.

Jake turns to you suddenly and grabs your arm.

“No, seriously,” He says, staring at you in the moonlight. “I missed you.”

You turn to look at him and he’s pinning you with that stare that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you – seeing every single thought that runs through your mind.

“I missed you too, Jake. More than you know.”

He lets go of your arm, seemingly content that the urgentness of his words were heard.

“I hate having to leave you here when we go,” he says, “I miss you so damn much.”

You turn to look at him and he does the same, his dark eyes locking with yours, You don’t really know how to respond. Hearing him say that to you makes your heart flutter in your chest. But you’re wary, too – wary of reading into his words wrong. That little spark of hope rears its head and it’s all you can do not to lean over and kiss him right then and there.

“I hate it too, Jake.” You whisper, afraid to speak into whatever it is that's just taken place between the two of you. But before you have time to process what’s happening, Jake presses his soft lips to yours. You’re so stunned that you don’t kiss him back and he pulls back wide eyed.

“I’m sorry.. I- I don’t know why I did that without asking first. I-” His eyes are filled with embarrassment and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s okay, Jake.” You interrupt him.” I just don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret in the morning.” You take a breath to try and steady your heart rate as Jake stares at you.

“So, you didn’t kiss me back because you think I’m too drunk?” He asks slowly, seemingly trying to process your words.

You sigh. It hurt before, but hearing him say it out loud made the sting all the more painful.

“Yes, Jake. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose our friendship over a drunken mistake.” There’s a small, hopeless little part of you that wants to say ‘fuck it’ and kiss him again anyway – even if he’ll regret it in the morning. Because deep down you know that this is the last chance you’ll ever get. You shove the little voice down.

“We can just act like this never happened.” You assure him.

“And what if I hadn’t been drinking before this?” He asks. “Would you have done the same?”

You purse your lips and look away. The pain of this whole situation is settling into your bones, heavy as lead.

“It doesn’t really matter, Jake.” You say honestly. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, it isn’t real.”

Jake looks at you and his eyes carry a hurt in them that you’d never seen before. You want to look away – run away even, if it meant that you wouldn’t have to see that look in his eyes again.

“I know it’s real, y/n. I may have been drinking, but it hasn’t given me feelings that weren’t already there.” He lets out a shaky breath. “The bourbon just gave me a little more courage to do something about these feelings.”

Your mind is awash with thousands upon thousands of thoughts and feelings. Hope, excitement, disbelief, fear; they all swirl through your mind so quickly you can barely catch hold of any of them. The thought that he might have feelings for you feels absurd. He’s Jake fucking Kiszka. It’s too good to be true.

“You promise me?” You beg, practically shaking with all the emotions running through your mind. “Please, Jake. I can’t take it if this is just you getting caught up in the moment.” And it’s the truth. If this isn’t real, you doubt you’ll be able to survive it.

“Answer my question first…” He says, stepping closer to you. “If I hadn’t been drinking and I kissed you, what would you do?” Jake’s eyes are shiny in the moonlight – his expression open and hopeful.

Oh, fuck it.

“I would kiss you back.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He says, before crushing his lips to yours again. This time, you don’t hesitate to reciprocate, opening your mouth and allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. You feel dizzy with excitement and disbelief. You’re making out with the guy you thought you could never have and holy shit, it’s better than you ever dreamed it would be.

“I promise you,” he says in between kisses, “that this is real. Realer than anything I’ve ever known.”

Jake brings his palms up to cup your cheeks and you place your hands on his shoulders to draw him closer to you. The smell of bourbon and vanilla floods your nose as he presses his chest to yours. He pulls away and you let out an embarrassing whine. He stares at you – his brown eyes swirling with passion.

“Y/n,” he says quietly, “what do you want?”

You take a moment to drink in his appearance. He looks incredible with his hair pulled back. His trademark silver necklaces rest against his collarbone and his cream colored dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his stomach. There’s a glisten to his skin from the summer heat and you’re struck with the sudden desire to taste its saltiness.

“I want you to touch me, Jake.” You plead.

He gives you a smirk and his eyes dance with mischief and excitement.

“Come inside. My room.” He laces his fingers with yours and the two of you slip inside, completely unnoticed by the merry crowd outside. You skirt around the kitchen where everyone else still resides and you both bound up the stairs to Jake’s old room.

Stepping into Jake’s old room feels personal. You’ve been in here before, but it still feels like you’re seeing something you’re not supposed to. The walls are covered in music posters, with artists from Cream to John Lee Hooker. The room smells like Jake – if a little faint, and several old guitars sit leaned against the wall. You stand in the middle of the room, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Y/n?” Jake asks, coming to stand beside you as he places a warm hand on your shoulder.

You look at him, taking in his beautiful features in the darkness of the room. The only light source coming from the moonlight spilling through the window.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern replacing the desire that had filled his eyes just moments before.

“Yes, of course! I just-” You trail off, unsure how to put your feelings into words.

“Y/n, I swear that I’m not that drunk. I’m a little tipsy, for sure. But I know what I want. I want you.”

“I want you too, Jake. I do. This all just,” you wave your hands in a vague motion between the two of you, “this all just doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent so long thinking this was never a possibility and now I’m just a little overwhelmed to be honest.” You look down at your feet. This is all just too much to process in such a short amount of time.

Jake walks over to his bed and takes a seat, gesturing for you to do the same. You follow, sinking down heavily beside him.

“Look at me.” He says, placing his index beneath your chin to turn your face towards him. “Why can’t you believe that I want this?” He asks, a small hint of a smile ghosting his lips.

“I just never thought that someone like you would be interested in someone… like me.” You say honestly.

Jake furrows his brows at you.

“Someone like me?” He grins and you can see the spit on his lips glisten in the dark. “Is it because I’m a rockstar? Super famous? Thousands of screaming fans all across the globe?”

You scoff and nudge your shoulder into his playfully.

“Not helpful at all. But yes, I guess so.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. Your body is thrumming with nervous energy.

“I’m not sure what I can say to convince you that I want you, y/n.” He says into the dark, eyes trained on the wall opposite the two of you. “I’ve always been drawn to you. Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you talk about things that excite you…” He turns to look at you now, his expression soft. “But this last leg of the tour, y/n…It was worse than usual. I missed you so damn much. I couldn’t ignore this any longer.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” His eyes are full of truth. You see no lie in them. “Tell me if you want to stop, y/n.”

You nod and allow him to push your back into the bed. He grips your thighs and spreads your knees apart before settling between them. You reach behind him and pull the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall freely to his shoulders. He chuckles and kisses you again, much softer now than before.

“Let me show you how real this is.” He whispers.

“Please, Jake. Whatever you want.”

That seems to be all the permission he needs as he swiftly lifts your shirt above your head before sliding your skirt down your thighs. You reach out with shaky fingers and undo the few buttons that he had bothered to fasten, and you slide his shirt down and off his shoulders. Jake attaches his lips to your neck, leaving warm kisses down your throat. You moan and paw at the belt of his pants, desperate to feel more of him against you.

“Patience, love.” He laughs as he unhooks your bra and throws it to the floor. “I want to make you cum first. We’ll get to me later.”

He dips his hand into the waistband of your panties and slides them down. You kick them off as they pool around your ankles. Jake brings a calloused finger to your pussy, swiping through the wetness gathered there.

“So wet…” he purrs, “All this for me?”

“Only for you, Jake. Only for you.”

You whine as his talented fingers begin to circle your swollen clit, just the way you had always imagined him doing when you watch him play guitar. He keeps his pace slow, teasing you and drawing out your pleasure.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this, y/n?” Jake asks as he begins to pick up his pace. His fingertips are rough, but the friction is so good you can barely think straight.

“I dream about this pussy all the time – I dream about seeing you like this, all desperate and needy, and I wake up so hard it hurts.” He sinks his middle finger into you slowly, while his thumb continues in lazy circles on your clit. He crooks his finger inside you, brushing against your walls in a way that makes you arch your back in pleasure. He smiles, and slowly inserts his ring finger into you as well, pumping in and out of you slowly.

You whine and buck your hips up to meet his hand, desperate for more. The sound of his voice, gruff with lust, is sending shocks of arousal straight to your core.

“Jake, please,” you beg, as he curls his fingers inside you, “stop teasing.”

He laughs lowly but doesn’t give you anything more.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.” Your voice is shaky and comes out in practically a whine. “Stop teasing. You already know.”

“Wanna hear you say it. Wanna hear those filthy things coming out of that pretty mouth.”

He’s unrelenting in his teasing. You’re so close, but he won’t give you that last bit that you need to finally snap the coil building in your belly.

“Please, Jake.” You moan, “Need to cum so bad. Need you to make me cum.”

He grins and you think that he’s finally going to give you what you want. But he doesn’t. Instead he sits up, pulling his fingers from you, and leans back on the headboard, leaving you laying there confused.

“Jake?” You ask as you sit up, feeling the wetness of your pussy leak down between your thighs.

“Since you want to cum so bad,” he says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod, breathless. You crawl your way over to him and swing one leg obediently over his thigh. You can see his cock straining in his pants and your mouth waters at the sight. Next time, you know that you want to taste it. You slowly ease your aching pussy down onto his leg and roll your hips experimentally, dragging your clit against the fabric of his pants.

“There you go, sweet girl.” Jake praises. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingers hard into your flesh. He’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You roll your hips again and start up a steady pace, the friction exactly what you needed. Jake slides one hand up to your breasts, circling and pinching at your raised nipples. His other hand stays where it is, solidly gripping your ass and keeping you grounded as you ride his thigh into oblivion. You quicken your pace as he mutters encouragement under his breath and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you moan his name loudly as you ride your way through the pleasure. You slip off from him and collapse onto your back next to him.

“Jesus Christ, you look gorgeous like that.” He says as he rises from his seated position. “Such a needy, desperate little girl, aren’t you?” He says as he unbuckles his belt and slips out of his pants. He leans over you and brushes a strand of your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear – the softness of the gesture a stark contrast to his dominant words from before.

“Kiss me.” You say, not at all embarrassed by the neediness of your request.

“I’ll kiss you a thousand times if it’ll make you believe me when I say that you’re the only woman I could ever want. I want you, y/n. More than anything else in my entire life.”

“I want you too, Jake. Since I met you, I’ve wanted this. Just never thought I could have it.”

“Well, you have it.” He says, brushing his lips over yours. “You have me. And now I’m going to fuck you just to prove it even more.” He pulls his boxers down his hips, allowing his hard cock to spring free. You gulp. He’s big – bigger than anyone else you’d ever seen.

“On your hands and knees, sweet girl.” Jake says as he pumps his cock a few times. You comply and groan loudly as he sinks his length into you slowly. He bottoms out and pauses, allowing you time to adjust. The coldness of his necklaces on your back feel good against your heated skin.

“Move, Jakey. Need you to move. Now.” You say as you press your face into the pillow.

Jake grasps your hips firmly and begins a brutal pace, pistoning his hips into yours. You moan loudly as he groans into your ear.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, y/n.” His thrusts are fast and hard, rocking your entire body forward with each one. He feels so good you can hardly even think straight. All your thoughts are entirely consumed with Jake, Jake, Jake.

“Don’t stop, J. ‘m so close.” You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching and you start to rock your hips back to meet Jake’s thrusts. He wraps one arm around your belly, pulling you tighter to him as he picks up his pace even more. Your face is buried in his pillow, desperately trying to muffle your cries from the other occupants of the house.

“Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?” Jake asks, as he drops his hand to circle your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Jacob!” You wail as you finally cum, legs shaking as it tears through you. Your eyes are watering and your vision whites out from the sheer pleasure. Jake’s thrusts are erratic, desperate.

“Say it again, y/n. Gonna cum in your tight, little pussy.”

“Jacob- please.” You moan at the overstimulation and that’s all he needs.

“Oh fuuuuck.” He groans as he spills inside you, breathing ragged in your ear.

He pulls out of you, and you collapse to your stomach, utterly spent.

“Stay there, sweetheart.” He mutters as he rises to get a wet washcloth. He returns quickly and you roll onto your back. He cleans you up softly, careful on your abused clit and pussy. He hangs the washcloth on his nightstand and crawls into the bed next to you. Placing a kiss to your forehead, he pulls the blankets up and over the both of you.

“That was… incredible.” You sigh, exhaustion hitting you like a brick wall. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

“You’re incredible.” He says quietly, voice so soft compared to before. “I meant what I said, you know?”

You glance up to look at him. He’s got that look in his chocolate brown eyes again – the one that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you.

“There isn’t anyone else that I would rather be with than you, y/n. It’s not just about sex, as incredible as that was. I want you. As much of you as you’re willing to give me.”

You press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“I believe you. I want it all with you, Jake.”

He huffs out a small laugh and kisses you again.

“Thank fuck.”

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes and nuzzling into him. “My rockstar.”

You miss the adoring smile Jake gives as you fall asleep.

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x you #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #dee's writing

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mintmatcha · 6 months

Note

I loved part two so much😭😭

Gib more Obi pls

Draconic works more like a melody than it does a language. It's tonal, drifting high and low as the two dragonborns speak, each word rolling into the next. It lingers in the air, unrushed and growled, pushed from the back of the throat in ways you're not sure your body could ever recreate. Sometimes, the conversation seems to have an edge of anger and it sets your body on guard, but then Obsidian dissolves into laughter and you relax.

You shouldn't be on edge anyway; the dark scaled stranger isn't //actually// a stranger. Jasper Vyke towers over his brother even when seated, but the strong angled spikes and ridges to his face are almost identical. His eyes keep flickering to yours as he talks, no hint of humor present on his stony features.

"You stare." Jasper jerks a chin to you.

"I'm sorry," you say, turning your attention to the campfire. "I didn't expect you two to look so similar."

"Well-" Obi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't hide his smile, "We are twins, my lady."

Meeting Jasper was completely a coincidence. Crossed paths led to a surprise family reunion and now the man sits at your fire, gnawing on the leg of some poor animal he hunted earlier. From stories and your brief interactions, you knew the two would be vastly different people--

You didn't expect that to almost share a face.

"We are, uh-- How do you say in Common?" He can speak Common fairly well, Obi told you once, he just prefers his Mothertongue. It's a point of pride.

"Identical."

"Indentical," Jasper repeats, "Obsidian is the smart one. I am the pretty one."

He flexes a bicep and the muscle coils under the skin. You hate to admit that you do find it attractive-- not as attractive as you find your partner, of course, but it does make you sit a little straighter. If Obi notices, he doesn't seem it mind; he's too busy watching his brother with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think you are identical at all," you say, "Obi's so much--"

"Smaller!" Jasper laughs, leaning in close to nudge you with his elbow. "So much smaller. He is the runt."

"I guess so," You agree with him, but you sense that may hurt your partner's ego, so you keep quiet, "But you are also different colors."

You touch Jasper's arm, running a thumb across a patch of scales. It's no wear near as soft as Obsidian's; there's a dry grit to the texture, closer to shark skin than anything else.

"Obsidian is iridescent-- your scales are matte," you say, "They don't shine in the light at all."

"You like my scales?" Jasper asks, chest puffed and a purr on his voice. He scooches in closer to you, leg pressed against yours, "I will give you one to keep."

Obi snaps his jaws together so forcefully that you jump at the sound. Both of you swivel to face the man. His muzzle is furrowed so deep that his fangs show to the gums and you can almost see the way magic crackles about him. "She has plenty of scales, brother."

An anxiety builds in your chest. You aren't sure where this conflict came from, but you sense you did something wrong.

"Obi, it's fine, I like--"

Obi's attention snaps to you. "If you wish to have a scale to carry I will give you as many as you desire. You do not need anyone else's."

They switch to Draconic again, sharing a low toned conversation. Obsidian may be the smaller brother, but he carries himself with a force that has Jasper quickly backing off.

"Forgive me," The larger brother says to you suddenly.

The apology doesn't make you feel better. The seasick feeling in your chest grows more unsteady and you choose to remain quiet for the rest of the night. It's not until later than night, when Jasper is deep in sleep and snoring with thunder, that Obi approaches you again. He moves his sleeping mat closer to yours, testing your reaction, then moves again.

"Are you cross with me?" he whispers.

"You frightened me a bit," you admit just as softly, "I get unsettled easy after Adam."

Elaboration isn't needed. There's a twitch of a sneer on Obi's face when you mention him, but he mellows out again after.

"I'm truly sorry, my fawn. My anger was not focused at you," he says, "I will take care not to react like that again."

He extends a hand and you take it with a squeeze. The unsteadiness inside you quells just a bit.

"Jasper was trying to court you," Obsidian says after a bit, "And it scared me."

You forget Obi - silver tongued, charismatic Obi- is self conscious about so many things. Did he really think his brother would swoop in so easily and win your heart?

"I didn't realize. I thought he was just being nice."

"Exchanging scales is a dragonborn custom. It's my fault for not explaining it to you," he sighs, "I just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. You don't need him too. You just squeeze his hand again, stronger this time.

"Why have you never given me a scale?"

"I did not think you would like one, my fawn."

"I want two," you say, quickly, "I shall turn them into earrings so they are always with me."

"They are not jewels," he chuckles, "They will not make very pretty jewelry."

"I disagree."

Obi doesn't respond, but you can hear the soft clicks of his purr, building in his throat.

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

Note

I’m so glad you liked the jokes!

(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)

For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️

the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.

warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.

wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)

“Smell this.”

The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed.

“Excuse me?”

You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band.

And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance.

He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time.

Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.”

Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend.

“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?”

His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for.

You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“

“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?”

He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you.

You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.

“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.

“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.”

Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.

Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with.

The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.

He never could say no to you.

“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“

Oh.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly.

But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.

“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“

“It’s working.”

It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it.

God, it was working.

Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve.

All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants.

Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”

He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.”

Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-

“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.”

He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.

He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone.

Get it together, Munson.

“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?”

Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control.

He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way.

Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“

“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.”

Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him.

You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t.

“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”

Anything.

“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?”

“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.”

Oh, God. Where were you going with this?

“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“

“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”

“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong.

“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?”

What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now?

Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of.

“What?” he weakly questions.

If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up.

“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”

Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits.

He should say no. He should really, really say no.

He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no.

“S-Sure.”

Famous last words.

Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking.

It’s such a bad idea.

The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks.

He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine.

His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds.

He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath.

His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.

It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing.

The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper.

No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space.

Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes.

He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord.

His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.

He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control.

But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.

Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions.

Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him.

“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again. Please.”

Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you.

He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close.

That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you.

“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”

He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.”

His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?”

Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”

“It was all just an act?”

“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”

“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?”

“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”

“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”

“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”

“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?”

You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”

“What does Nancy have to do with this?”

“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.”

“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”

When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.”

His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist.

“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”

Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies.

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.”

He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world.

You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you.

His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now.

“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”

“A few?”

“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.”

“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?”

He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.”

Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.”

“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.”

“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.”

Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #i had so much fun with this i'm not even sorry #it had me YEARNING #GIGGLING #KICKING MY FUCKING FEET #god i hate him i wanna show him my new perfumes #shamelessly described my own new perfumes i just got too sorry

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firethekitty · 5 months

Text

Ranking Every Wolfwood!!

happy wolfwood wednesday! i've ranked every wolfwood and it very quickly got out of hand and turned into more of a character analysis/meta. it was really fun and helped me better understand why i love this guy so much!

yes, really!

i hope you guys enjoy and that my autistic rambling makes sense!

1. trimax wolfwood. yeah he’s perfect. nothing else to say. god bless

while i can’t fit everything i love about him into one post, just know that i’ve written almost 30,000 words in wolfwood (and vash) character studies. so when i say “i like trimax wolfwood” that really means “i am fucking obsessed with trimax wolfwood”.

he’s the perfect mix of silly and heartbreaking, funny and serious, annoying like an older brother, deeply kind, so so painfully human; and a PERFECT foil to vash. simply phenomenal writing.

my only complaint would be that his tits are not on display like they are in the 1998 anime. but i can appreciate the subtly, so this doesn’t detract from his otherwise flawless score.

2. 98 wolfwood. omg hiiiii hehe twirling my hair ohh he’s so handsome what an absolutely beautiful design for him. his nose, his spider-esque shape, his TITS…… they even kept his little whiskers!

on top of an amazing design, he’s a very good balance of silly, irritable, playfully annoying, and serious! he fits pre-trimax wolfwood to a T!

but, as trimax progressed…

he’s cool. too cool. he has too much pull. wolfwood should NOT have swag. genuinely it is imperative to his character that he is, and i say this as lovingly as possible, a fucking loser with no friends.

wolfwood is a deeply traumatized man. he isn’t nearly as charming as we, the audience, thinks he is. no one laughs at his jokes, his insults are crude and immature, he embarrasses himself in front of literal children…

god, he is so painfully awkward. and who wouldn’t be in his situation? to have your childhood stolen and forced to grow up as a weapon? not allowed to interact casually with anyone else during the most important developmental stage of your life?

he's just not suave like tri98 wolfwood is. so, while 98 wolfwood is an excellent character, he doesn’t entirely read “wolfwood” to me. similar to how 98 vash is good on his own, but he’s just not “vash”. this is, of course, the result of making an anime out of a manga that wasn’t even 30% finished at the time. while i don’t understand the reasoning behind this, i know that nightow desperately needed the funds the anime brought in, as well as the motivation to keep making trimax, so i have to simply make peace with the dated characterizations tri98 has.

but don’t get me started on the milly situation. really a godawful writing decision, idk who approved that mess.

3. tristamp wolfwood. he is so bullyable. he’s like a sopping wet cat. absolute fucking dweeb.

i debated this for a long time—whether i should rank tristamp wolfwood above tri98 wolfwood. and i asked myself, do i love tri98 wolfwood because he’s a good character and is similar to trimax wolfwood? does he even remind me of trimax wolfwood at all? well, not really, he’s very clearly based on pre-trimax, just like tri98 vash is.

ultimately i decided i do genuinely just prefer tri98 wolfwood, but i felt the need to defend tristamp wolfwood because i see a lot of fair criticisms but also really dumb discourse throughout the fandom about him. so here’s my attempt at trying to address these:

so, there are some things i really enjoy about him and some things i really dislike; and, unlike vash, most of these criticisms are not a result of time/pacing issues. they’re easily fixable.

like, for the love of god he NEEDS to get sillier. they got the loser part down, but he’s a bit too overtly sad in tristamp. i think he will be more like his trimax self in season 2, but wolfwood’s humor is in-part a coping mechanism and important to his character. he’s an older brother! he’s fucking annoying! he thinks he's funny when he isn't! we do get a little bit of this with him and meryl, when he's tormenting her at the campfire, and that’s what i want to see more of. even if he’s playing it up, he should be working on getting their guards down, convincing them he isn't going to betray them.

since tristamp takes place in a weird prequel sort of canon, i get that he would look/act younger than he is in trimax. i think he was modeled after the teenage wolfwood we see in the flashback scenes of him training for the eye of michael, where he’s noticeably less outgoing and more reserved.

however, this doesn’t change the fact that he WAS silly as a kid in trimax, before his “teenage angst phase” (hate to call it that when it’s more like a “realizing he’s going to die by the gun and not being able to do anything about it” phase). but he’s still a lot quieter and reserved in tristamp as a kid, so i think we really need to find a good balance here in the trigun adaptations.

another example of an easily fixable issue—i really hate how they did the “vash sees how kind wolfwood is” scene, in which wolfwood gives money/snacks to children. in tristamp, wolfwood already knows the kid is zazie, which tells us absolutely nothing about his character. this scene is almost entirely worthless, only good for reminding vash that he should eat, which gives tristamp its own not-as-good hospital yuri scene.

and, so, about the elephant in the room… i don’t think he was whitewashed. let me try to explain my thought process.

tristamp, as far as i can tell, doesn’t seem to be taking any inspiration from tri98, whose wolfwood is very explicitly a brown man. trimax wolfwood i feel is a bit more ambiguous in his skin tone, which alternates between dark screentones and completely uncolored pretty much at solid 50/50 odds. just fairly inconsistent overall, even on the official manga covers.

but this doesn’t mean wolfwood is white in tristamp, and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his aquiline nose. the notorious scenes of him in the suns, looking white as a fucking sheet, shows us how a 3D environment can diminish a character’s silhouette and distinctive features.

compare this to scenes of wolfwood in a dim environment, or to the 2D scenes of child wolfwood and livio that i can't include bc i'm only allowed 10 pics. he looks MUCH better, much darker than vash, and as they both should appear in such lighting. it just doesn't add up—he should be much darker in strong light if they followed the same color values:

SO, even though i feel like all of this is more of a technical issue rather than malicious whitewashing, that doesn’t mean i think it’s acceptable. it looks fucking awful, and the lighting system needs major improvement to work with darker skin tones.

and, like, at the end of the day, wolfwood isn’t canonically latino, and he doesn't really have a consistent skin tone either. it’s a great headcanon, one i partially share, but it’s not canon. the only ethnicity that could technically be considered somewhat canon is japanese, as wolfwood was based off a japanese singer named tortoise matsumoto. you can see this resemblance best in early trigun!

and i really need to defend his nose!!! a lot of people say he lost his nose but he didn’t!! i promise it’s there!!! another victim of his 3D model, you can only see his nose from the side or in the 2D frame after he gets his shit wrecked. see how clearly he has a very well-defined nose when he’s hand-drawn? this is what i mean when i say a 3D environment can drastically alter a character’s important features, as much as i otherwise adore the animation for this show.

also, if you think nightow would let studio orange get away with not including his nose, you got another thing coming.

in conclusion, while i think tristamp wolfwood is a great start, he’s just not quite there yet. but i have immense faith that the next time we see him, he’ll look and act a lot more like he does in trimax!

i know this is true, because there are already some shots in tristamp where i’m just like. oh yeah. there he is. that’s wolfwood. there's the guy i love so much

...

well, that was long! this was really fun to write and i

oh jesus christ what the hell is that thing

4. badlands rumble wolfwood. ah, now here’s a great example of overt whitewashing. no lighting excuses this time, just blatant colorism.

even if he wasn’t ghostly white, there's just something about his design that makes me viscerally uncomfortable and i can’t pinpoint what it is exactly. he’s just so… angular. he has no scruff, no kitty cat mouth, his eyes are very oddly shaped, almost no eyebrows... i just really hate looking at him!

his ONLY saving grace is how mentally ill he acts in this movie. and his tits. otherwise i don’t really have much to say about him!

ok, now we’re done! and here’s a handy wolfwood chart i made to summarize everything.

really hope this was fun to read and if people liked this i'd be glad to write a vash version or other characters!! happy woowoo wednesday :)

#trigun #trimax #tristamp #tri98 #wolfwood #vashwood #a little bit. enough for me to tag hehe #meta #trigun meta #character analysis #also i don't mean to imply ethnicity = skin color but latino wolfwood is by far the most common headcanon i've seen. which i really like!#but it can very quickly diverge into the latino lover trope and i've seen that A Lot in this fandom #and i don't really want to get into fanon wolfwood here bc that's an entire other can of worms

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