#i thought it was silly and this was already so vivid in my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunalockley · 1 year

Text

The Limo Driver (part one)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Very NSFW which is funny cause reader is in her workplace. Fingers exactly where you want them.

Summary: Jake has issues, yet has the audacity to be possessive.

Words: 4700+

Notes: Hiii! I wasn't posting for a while because I wasn't satisfied with my writing, but now save yourselves I'm backkkk

Masterlist

gif credit

Truth is… you’ve missed him. All this time you’ve missed him.

You have realized he never told you how old he is, where he is from, or what he does. You don’t have any substantial information about his personality, about who he is as a person. All you know is he answers to the name of Jake and you think he drives a limo for a living.

That’s it. That’s all you have on him. And half of it it’s guessed.

Yet, you’ve missed him. A lot. Which is pretty stupid. And annoying.

Because if you already have to deal with mornings you suddenly wake up breathing hard and sweaty just by the infuriatingly vivid idea of his warm mouth making his way down on your neck, or the roughness of his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer, deeper, harder… ugly, disgusting ideas you’re determined to call nightmares. At work, everything gets worse.

There are days when the restaurant is full, no matter how late it is. So you move around on a nonstop cycle greeting, serving, and cleaning until your shift is over and you don’t have energy left to think about anything else than your soft, comfy bed. But there are also days when almost no one comes. Days when no one wants breakfast at 1 am, for some reason, so you don’t have anyone to reassure there’s still bacon and eggs available—even when the ‘24-hour breakfast’ slogan plagues pretty much every inch of the restaurant. Nothing to serve, nothing to clean, no repetition to follow. Nothing to concentrate on.

So all that are you left with it’s the constant hum of the ceiling fan, your thoughts and the fact that his usual seat pulls your attention like a gravitational force, taking over you against all your fucking will. Whether it’s being used by a stranger and you can’t escape how wrong it feels having someone else where it should be him, or when its emptiness seems to mock how you haven’t been able to forget him despite how long it’s been since the last time you saw him.

So of course it’s stupid and annoying… and stupid.

Because if he’s not sitting there frowning at his coffee and flirting with you whenever you got closer enough, as he did for weeks on end all these months ago, it’s because he doesn’t want to, right? It’s been nearly a half-year for fuck’s sake. Of course he doesn’t want to.

You know that. You do. Yet the kiss gets replayed on your mind all the fucking time. Because that’s the exact same spot where you felt his lips against yours for real, not like the not-good-enough vanished version of your drea—nightmares.

Even though you’d prefer those horrible nightmares than staying behind the counter with nothing to do but alternate your eyes between a smooching couple in one corner and an old melancholic man observing the night sky in the other, the only customers in the restaurant. No one else has entered the place in a torturously slow hour and a half. And there's still another hour left until your shift ends.

It’s embarrassing how all your life you had been proud of yourself for not letting anyone take over your mind as you’ve seen in cheesy movies and listened to in corny songs. You were fine, taking care of your well-being, working on as many jobs as physically possible, patiently increasing your savings, doing everything in your hands to follow your slightly unrealistic dreams. But this? This is straight-out dumb.

You think about him as soon as you wake up, you get distracted on your daily life, on your work. And the fact that any little silly thing has the power to make you think of him, to wonder what he might be doing, may have he eaten, might he be okay—it’s infuriating.

You just never had someone on your mind… all the fucking time.

And now it’s getting to a point you’re just mad about it. About how silly you were to open up to him, to share your dreams and fears when he didn’t even tell you his last name. About how naive you were to let him be part of your life so easily. About the stupid kiss, too. About how you still care, how you’re still hoping he’s okay. About everything. Even the soft buzzing of the coffee machine is getting on your nerves.

You just have to… forget him. Somehow.

While you channel all of your frustration into cleaning the bar table for the eighty-sixth time you go through it again. You need a plan, you have to get over him. You need to go out, have a social life, get some new air. You’ll fucking do fifty push-ups every time he comes to mind if you need to. You won’t spend not even one more second thinking of him or his stupid lips, nor the lopsided almost-smiles he would give you every time you—

“Always working so hard, preciosa.”

A beat, and then you feel how your heart starts to race in your chest as all the oxygen seems to leave your lungs, getting replaced with too many emotions and thoughts you can’t process all at once. Everything feels like too much for a second. Too alive, too fast, too hot. And as if your body had a mind of its own, while you’re still trying to regain control of it, your head lifts and you’re certain you’ll finally find out you have lost your fucking mind.

But you haven't. Because he’s right there, in his usual chair.

Jake.

His brown eyes are the first thing that catches your attention, his gaze always having the power to somehow make you feel safe and exposed at the same time. Just like the first time you saw him, you weren’t able to look away even when he was drenched, limping, and bleeding. Another thing he never explained.

The memory makes you examine the rest of his body. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a shirt and his chest is moving hard underneath, almost like he had run here. At least he doesn’t seem hurt this time. You also notice he’s not wearing his usual hat and you think this might be the first time you’ve ever seen his hair in full glory. Even if it’s slightly combed you can see it’s curly and fluffy and you try to bury deep down the stupid desire to lose your fingers in it.

And you realize his whole body seems to be vibrating with some sort of energy, some sort of excitement you’ve also never seen in him before. And your own body, too susceptible to his, can almost feel it emanating out of him.

You search back for his eyes just in time to catch his slowly lifting from your body and when they make contact with yours they shine with something you rather don’t think about right now.

“It’s been a while,” he says still a little out of breath. And your heart is still in your throat while you wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Is he expecting you to say something back to that? After all this time? Oh, it’s been a while? I haven’t noticed. At all. It’s not like I’ve been worrying to death because of you.

But even if you wanted to say anything at all out loud you don’t think you could, you’re still frozen in place working with way less oxygen than needed. So you keep taking each other in, staring in silence like two idiots waiting for the other to say something. And to your surprise, he gives in first.

“Did you miss me?” He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are bright and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, that flirty tone you know so well. The first thing about him that you can actually recognize because everything else feels out of place. The absence of his hat, the casual clothes, his whole weirdly happy demeanor. So you hold into it.

Which is the worst thing you could do. Because your heart already struggling somewhere in your chest makes a mortal downfall to your stomach in response to it. And you feel it breaking a little bit more. Of the thousand if-he-ever-comes-back scenarios you had in your head you never picture him being almost… cheeky about it. He spends night after night for months bolted to that chair, talking to you, flirting with you, fighting any drunk who got too handsy, waiting for you on your late shifts to accompany your way home through dark streets, looking at you in that stupid bone-melting way he does… kissing you, just to disappear for six months and appear all of the sudden to ask if you missed him? The nerve of him.

“It’s good to see you, Jake,” you acknowledge, and you curse yourself for your slightly shaky voice. You’re still trying to gain your body back from the emotional overload. The adrenaline is still buzzing through your veins. And the way his gaze flick to your mouth once you pronounce his name doesn't make it any easier.

“Just black coffee?” You hear yourself ask, and you curse yourself once more for blurting out his usual order just like that. You shouldn’t remember those things after six months, should you? The thing is you’re not just trying to avoid answering his stupid question but you also need to have at least something to do with your hands. You can’t just stand there in front of him like an idiot, for god’s sake.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he answers dropping his gaze to the table and you take the opportunity to turn around away from his mesmerizing brown eyes and stupidly long eyelashes at least for a moment. “Always having fun playing with my heart, preciosa. You didn’t miss me, then?”

Again, the nerve of him.

“Clients come and go,” you toss carelessly back at him. Not facing him gives you a false sense of power. You have never been so ruthless around him, you never fully played along with his flirty comments but neither did you shut him down. Not being able to resist him. Stupid you. But no more of that.

“Mmm, just a client then,” he remarks in a meditative tone.

“Well, after all this time you’re not even that, are you?” You throwback a little too firmly, serving his cup of coffee a little too hard, almost spilling some on the counter bar. God, where is this passive aggressiveness coming from?

He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to. Instead he just looks at you. So you do the same, you can’t back down now.

As you observe him you notice part of his weirdly vibrating energy seems to have diminished along with his playful demeanor. He has realized you’re not playing around. And for a second you feel a stab of regret. Despite your annoyance, you enjoyed watching this new third expression his always serious face is capable of making, besides his usual grumpy, extra-grumpy murderous one you were already used to. Now all you have left are his rich brown eyes, which reveal more information than his words have ever done. Despite his will, you believe.

“How’s our cat?” Jake tries again, changing the subject. One you can’t resist.

“My cat. Just mine. And she’s fine. So big you wouldn’t recognize her.”

“Did you find her a name?”

“No. She’s still Viejita.”

Viejita. The way he called her when he brought her to you, tiny, malnourished, and full of fleas. He had found her alone in the streets. Said he had no heart to leave her, but he couldn’t take her home with him. Something about already having fish and cats not being discreet enough. So like the idiot you are you took her with you.

Not like you regretted though. You are pretty sure that tiny black-haired monster has become the love of your life.

“Viejita,” he chuckles softly. “That’s good. I approve it.”

You gasp, shocked. How dare he.

“You have no right.”

This time around he’s the one who seems shocked. After a brief moment, he says in perfect conviction: “Of course I do. I found her. I’m her father.”

“Yeah, you’ve missed half her life, that actually sounds like it.”

The silence rises again and his eyes, god, his eyes are looking at you with an intensity you’ve seen only once before: the night he kissed you. So instead of doing the grown-up thing and facing him once and for all, you do exactly the opposite. You turn around and pretend to be very busy doing literally nothing.

“And how have you been?” He asks a few moments later. Even when you can’t see him you feel his eyes pinned on you. You move things from one side to the other, pretending to organize them when you’re actually doing quite the contrary. You take a mental note to put everything back in its place before your co-worker arrives for her shift.

“I have work to do. Other customers to serve, Jake. Can’t spend the night chatting with you.”

“Yeah, sure, I see that. You’re drowning in orders,” you hear him grumble as you make your way to the table of the smooching couple that just left. They just had coffee and waffles, but you make the most of it taking as much time as you can carrying the mugs to the kitchen. Yet, it still takes too little. By the time you’re back at the counter top, there's still a half-hour of shift left. And Jake is right where you left him, his coffee untouched.

“C’mon bonita, talk to me.”

You had forgotten the power his dark raspy voice has over you, breaking goosebumps all over your body. One more reason to hate your work dress too short everywhere, leaving your arms as exposed as your legs.

“Stop—Stop calling me… things in Spanish, please.”

“But you are bonita. Muy bonita. Preciosa.”

Fuck him, why does it sound so good? You’ll listen to Spanish ASMR tonight. Not having him in mind, of course.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t fight it. I’ve gone that way, too. But is just denial.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He’s doing that thing where the corner of his lips is slightly raised and his eyes shine with mischief. You can’t help yourself. You fall right in.

“What were you in denial of?”

“You.”

Ok, no. Abort. Don’t go that way. Change the subject. Fast.

You fill the air with meaningless sounds until you actually find something to say. “What’s with the new style? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… so casual.”

He doesn’t smile but you see it in his eyes, your reaction pleased him. But then he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat a little bit, along with a subtle change in his demeanor. Almost defensive, but you’re not sure. “Borrowed.”

“Borrowed?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you need to borrow them?”

“Circumstances.” He answers with a shrug.

“Ok. And… what have you been up to?”

“Work.”

Single-word answers. A mimic of a response but not actually giving anything away. Keeping himself clean, not exposed, not involved.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

“I’m talking t—”

“No, you are not,” you interrupt him. You see a muscle appear on his cheek. “Why are you here? Why you came back?”

“I came back—came back to you. Didn’t want to leave.”

“But you did. So what does that mean?” You ask defenseless, tired of trying to figure him out.

He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything at the end. All you get is a head shake and a shrug as an apology. He won’t say anything, he never does.

“Nice talk.”

There are still almost twenty minutes left but you don’t care. The old melancholic man, the only customer besides Jake, is still sipping his coffee. He doesn’t need you.

You go and take your backpack to the bathroom. You’ll change and kill the time in there until your shift ends. But as soon as you close the door it opens again. Jake storms inside, you didn’t even hear his footsteps.

“Jake, what the f—”

“What’s wrong? What changed?” He interrupts you, positioning himself against the door. Blocking any way to escape him, forcing you to face him.

What changed?!

“Please, this isn’t—just…” you pause to take a big breath, putting all your effort into channeling the remaining patience you’ve got left “just leave me alone.”

“Why?” He asks softer than you expected, taking a step closer. But despite the tone, despite the cautious way he's approaching you you can see he’s holding back. You can feel his body tense with restraint.

“Because I want to be alone. I don’t want to be near you right now.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

Is too fucking small here, this bathroom can barely fit two people. And he’s gotten closer. You can feel the heat emanating out of him. The audacity to come here and perform a little interrogatory when he never answers any of your questions.

“Jake, please—”

“Answer me. Why don’t you want me near you?”

“Please, stop being an—” an asshole, you want to say. A selfish idiot who just takes and doesn’t give anything back. But you don’t. “Just leave.”

“Tell me why.”

That’s it.

“I don’t wanna be near you because you’re being a fucking asshole and I hate assholes and I hate your stupid chair and I hate that you leave only when you want to and not when I ask you to, like when you kissed me and you just fucking left! I hate that you don’t answer any of my questions but you come here expecting me to answer all of yours, and I hate that you are so close to me,” you snap, trying to push him away full force but he doesn’t move an inch. “And I fucking hate you too so get the fuck off m—”

It’s so fast. His hand on the back of your neck is what silences you. He’s suddenly pulling you closer, caging you by taking over your waist with his whole fucking arm. And when you are millimeters from his face his eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on but they immediately change into something primitive and dark, halfway to insane.

And then his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you. Hard.

All you can feel is him. His scent. The low hum when his tongue invades your mouth. The hand holding the back of your head, the other moving over your back and pushing you towards his torso. All hard muscles and heat. His pulse jumping under your fingertips. His upper thigh between your legs.

Is this how it feels when he loses control? Is this how it feels when you lose control?

It must be. Because for sure you’re not in control of your body right now. Not for the way is pushing back to fit every part of his. Nor for the way you moan when he bites your lower lip. Or for the way your fingers trail down and get into the waistband of his jeans, desperate to feel more of him. The contact makes him shudder and growl into your mouth. But you can’t go any further because he’s suddenly turning you around so fast you barely get to hold your hands into the mirror before completely losing balance. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, making you feel the heat of his hardness and punching another pathetic moan out of you.

In response a pleased hum rose in his throat, the sound deep and husky. He slowly raises one hand through your body and wraps it around your throat, bringing you even closer to him. The other hand travels down your thigh. The look in his eyes wild and sharp, almost black when they click back on yours through the mirror's reflection. “Not so desperate to get away from me now, are we muñequita?”

You can’t breathe. Not when his fingertips find the hem of your dress. Not when he lifts it so, so slowly up to your waist. Not when he starts playing with the elastic of your panties. Not when he leans his head over your shoulder to get a better look. Not when he briefly brushes your clit through the fabric. Fuck.

You gasp at the contact. Jake removes his hand as his eyes immediately search for yours over the reflection, the intensity of his gaze as if his life depends on your answer.

“Do you still want me to leave?”

He’s not just asking for confirmation, he’s giving you a way out. If you say yes he will leave just like you said you wanted him two minutes ago. Perhaps he won’t ever show up again and you’ll finally get a chance to get back to your normal life before him. That’s what you should do. But you know won’t. Because whatever your common sense is shouting at you gets pushed back to the background. Too caught up in the way his body feels against yours. Too absorbed in what his next move might be, what his next words might sound like right there next to your ear. But you can't get yourself to recognize any of that out loud, so all you do is shake your head, utterly defeated.

“Mmm, what you want me to do then?”

You take his hand and try to take it back to your pussy but he takes it away before you can’t get any relief. It’s not fair. Instead, he raises his hand to move your head to the side, exposing your throat.

“Too bad. I’m not giving you what you want until you act right,” he says lowly and the baritone goes straight into your core. It’s too hot. You feel too hot. Overheated. There’s a faint sheen on your neck and now he’s licking it and you feel like dying. He lets out a noise that’s halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Months waiting for a fucking chance to get here and once I do you can’t fucking behave yourself. Now how was that? You hate me you say?”

“No. Jake, please,” you whine. Unable to stop yourself.

“No?”

“No,” a mere whisper. You don’t even know what are you answering. Your body wants him so bad isn’t even processing thoughts.

“So you don’t?”

“Jake.”

“You sound so sweet. But I need to hear more, preciosa.”

“Please, Jake, I’m so wet.”

That seems to push a bunch of air out of him. Almost like he couldn't help himself, he moves his head back over your shoulder to watch as pushes the panties to the side with his thumb. His index and middle finger beginning to collect your wetness, the touch so soft you can barely feel it. Torture. Not even close to enough.

“Just fucking touch me already please or I swea—”

The rest of the sentence is muffled as his two fingers fill your mouth, a pinch of something pungent and salty. Your own taste.

“Told you to behave yourself,” he slowly moves his fingers out to your lower lip just to get them back inside to the knuckle. The movement, the words, the tone coaxes a whimper out of you. You’re burning inside out. “Now tell me, does it taste like you hate me? Mmm?”

Before you can even try to answer he turns your head to the side and meets you halfway to kiss you. His hand on your jaw, his tongue dominating yours, his voice raspier when he speaks again. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He keeps kissing you as he begins to trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. And you feel yourself melting against him. His touch is so smooth and the effect that it has on you is so powerful. And he knows it.

“You just can't get enough of me, can you?”

And then when he finally starts working on your clit you lose it. God, you had no idea. If two of his fucking fingers have made this trembling, needy, overheated mess of you, you better don’t even imagine what he could of you if—No. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell, you wish you could even talk but language has left your fucking brain. All you can do is whimper as he keeps talking you through it.

“Does it feel good?”

“You’ve needed this all this time? Needed me?”

“Say it then.”

“Say it. Say that you need me.”

“Say the words, baby.”

“Would you like it better if I fuck them off of you?”

Your body makes a sudden jerk when he stops the movement, demanding an answer. But no matter the state you are in there’s still a little corner of your fogged brain fighting. Fighting for not giving him what he wants, no matter how much you want to. No matter if he’s only asking you to admit what you know is true. His hand finds your jaw and positions your head straight into the mirror, forcing you to look into his eyes through the reflection.

And you give in a little.

“No-o one gets under my skin the way—the way you do,” you manage to say, panting and trembling. Yet, you catch it. As soon as the words leave your mouth his gaze softens. His expression doesn’t seem to change, not anyone could see it. But you can. His eyes look pleased. The storm calms down a bit.

And while you're still spellbound, immobile under his gaze and unaware of anything else but his brown deep eyes he slides two fingers in. The stretch ignites fire from the inside. Your head rolls back into his shoulder as his head falls back into yours.

“Fuck.” The words sound muffled on your neck, low and delirious. “Fuck, baby. Those pretty little noises you’re making will haunt me till my last living night.”

You can already feel it. The way your muscles tense, the way your pussy is squeezing his fingers. So close, so close, so close, so fucking close. And then—

A knock on the door. Your co-worker is calling up your name.

Jake slips his fingers out and takes a step back. The movement sinks down into your stomach. Is he regretting it? Will he disappear again just like last time?

“I–I’ll be there in a minute,” you pronounce as clearly as you can, hoping she won’t notice the tremble in your voice.

Slowly, you come back to your senses. Your legs barely hold you up. A minute goes by and he still doesn’t say anything. You take your jeans and put them on. Deep down you already knew it. This doesn’t changes anything. He won’t let you in. And you’ve got enough of it.

“I don’t unders—All these months I’ve been so worried, and confused, and angry at you. And on top of that, I missed you so much that I even got tired of it. Physically tired of it. But you know what the worst part was? The more time you spend in my head the more I realized I don’t know anything about you. I barely know your first name. And you, somehow, managed to get any stupid little detail of me out in the clear and that makes it even—”. You finish taking off your dress and you put on your shirt. He's looked at you through the mirror throughout the whole process, his eyes dark and stormy again. You close your backpack and turn to face him. “The point is even this ridiculous little 30-second monologue of me being honest about how I feel it’s more than anything you’ve told me about you. I don’t know you, Jake. I’m not the one who needs to act right. And whatever this is,” you say pointing between the two of you, “is over.”

He’s taking deep breaths, his body tense, restrained once more. Controlled. With a last look in his eyes, you recognize what you couldn’t get your finger on earlier on. It’s vulnerability. But after a few blinks it’s deep down hidden again.

You think he might stop you once you open the door and walk away, but he doesn’t.

———————————————

Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from the tag list!

@ungracefularchimedes @uncle-eggy @losers-club6 @mona-has-friends @ninjarose23 @later-gators12 @saahmi @bookwormvoyageuse @wordacadabra @dynamiter-lune @sheisforthebirds @lilith-blackrose @avengersinitiative2012 @actuallyanita @cleothegoldfish @ninebluehearts @deadbirdcz @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @imarvelatthestars @bucksgoat @alexxavicry @blackholegladiator @lisa-stilinski @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @inksketch123 @harrys-tittie @ezduzzit @emprixnix @alivemoonknight @ghostheartbeat @foreverinwanderlust @wisteria-songs @stevenandmarcslove @orlandoblumhouseofguccimane @tragicbucky @freerangesweets @lepagera-blog @lovepeaceorelse @star-dusst @fandomtrash465 @dangerousdreamkitty @username21mk @padfoot-1959 @paradox-brody-chase @gottalovethefandom

———————————————

Sorry if I tagged you and you only wanted to be tagged in the I wanna be yours series! I'll be posting very soon there. Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged in part two of The Limo Driver so I can remove you! <3

Also I don't remember who started calling Jake fancanon cat Viejita but please all credit to them!

#jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagines #steven grant smut #mcu moon knight #moon knight smut #jake lockley fluff

682 notes · View notes

starsmuse · 1 year

Text

neverafter premiere night so here are some thoughts!

emily axford is truly godsent. the relationship she and ally have already crafted between ylfa and timothy, the way she plays this congested prepubescent girl, her backstory scene; god, the entirety of her backstory scene was SO good, though, i don’t know why i’m surprised. emily axford has never been anything shy of perfection and she won’t start now in a season where her ability to act really needs to shine through. also the fact that she’s playing a barbarian, i am so glad i guessed correctly because it’s going to be so fun to watch her play one especially with how they’ve set it up.

lou fucking wilson. i love everything about his character, his backstory which i LOVE that they left for last. this season seems to be one for double intros and he and zac are going to be incredible together i KNOW it. i made a few guesses as to who would be what class and NOTHING could have prepared me for him being a warlock to his stepmother, the way they’re interweaving the fairytales is brilliant i am truly so excited.

zac oyama… i love him with the entirety of my being but i couldn’t help but feel slightly underwhelmed with his backstory scene, like no way he’s just some random little cat that can speak? surely there’s more to him! i love the almost-brotherly relationship pib and pinocchio seem to have but i do have a theory i’ll run by you all: we all know in the disney retelling of cinderella, stepmother has a black cat named lucifer, i wonder if pib is another patron of pinocchio’s stepmother or maybe a familiar of hers sent to watch over pinocchio and ensure he isn’t messing things up. JUST A THOUGHT! if not, i’m genuinely very excited to get more backstory out of this character.

opening the show on siobhan’s introduction was obviously the way to go considering how beautifully she executed her scene. the briars… god, the briars. i have no issue with reading and listening to body horror and brennan painted a vivid word picture with his narration for her, it was all so good. i constantly complain about the intrepid heroes never having a ranger and they’ve finally got one and it’s the damsel princess, i absolutely adore that. i also love that rosamund still has that bit of naivety to her considering in her mind she’s still eighteen and she probably lived a pretty sheltered life all things considered. her simply knowing that there’s a prince out there looking for her and that he is her true love, i can’t wait to see what kind of spin brennan is going to put on this curse and inevitably what kind of curveball he’s going to throw siobhan/rosamund.

murph is playing this vapid and vain prince so well, but i cannot wait to see when he actually gets into this fighting that prince gerard seems to turn his nose up at. the scenes with princess elody were bordering on heartbreaking but still fully leaning into embarrassing on the prince’s part, i have an inkling as to why he’s regressing back into his frog form, as should most, but all in all i think this is going to be a pretty silly character, very cody-esque, one that i’m very excited to see and watch grow nonetheless. also, the whole exchange between prince gerard and princess rosamund, i hadn’t realized how little i’d seen murph and siobhan’s characters interact in previous seasons until i got a full and uninterrupted conversation between the two of them when their characters met and now it’s truly all i want to have them be silly little cousins fighting to protect each other.

finally, the person, the myth, the legend: ally beardsley. i hadn’t really though about how important mother goose would be to the plot as a whole until about a week before today because i know that mother goose is not only a writer of fairytales but the writer of the fairytales, so i really, really enjoyed a lot of timothy’s exposition and how much he cares for children—like ylfa—now that he’s lost his own. like i said before i am thoroughly endeared by the relationship ally and emily have already built between the two of them, and i cannot wait to watch it grow and i’m really excited to see what ally does with this character and where they go.

brennan hasn’t answered any of the questions that were asked about if this season is going to be similar to acoc in terms of lethality or if the pcs have created secondary characters, so i think it’s safe to say we should definitely be cautious considering there are no clerics in this party, but all in all i’m shaking with excitement and the thought of the rest of this season we’ve got like seventeen episodes to go and i think they’re going to be SO much fun.

#dimension 20 #rory talks!#neverafter #rosamund du prix #puss in boots #pinocchio #prince gerard of greenleigh #ylfa snorglesson #timothy goose #mother timothy goose #brennan lee mulligan #d20 #neverafter spoilers

612 notes · View notes

coveholdenmyluv · 3 months

Text

R. Braun - Honey Soaked Promises

synopsis. In which you reminisce on your quest for revenge, irrigated with broken promises and fermented with betrayal, allowing you to act as the judge between life or death for yourself and the viper dressed in the skin of the love of your life.

— or alternatively, in which you make the stupid decision to fall in love with the wrong person on your journey to freedom...

Oh well, you'll just have to kill him now.

series masterlist

chapter warnings. Unrequited love, angst, mourning/grieving, (our girl is going thru it), comfort, fluff.

chapter synopsis. Eren asks you a question that you don’t know how to answer. Then, you’re forced to endure a day of anguish.

IV| Snowmen and Candles. 10k words.

“His honeyed eyes seemed to shift a shade deeper, the vibrant saffron flame reflected its visage onto his pupils, a sight that brought among the warmth to your insides once again.”

Or, maybe you would.

Year 851

The sand seeps between your toes as you stroll along the shore, careful not to pierce the skin of your soles with the stray fragmented shells littered across the ground. Your fingers fly to the band on your head, slipping it out of your hair, seeing as it was deemed useless to prevent your long strands from tickling your face by the harsh but invigorating breeze that drew in with the waves.

Your eyes stayed locked on the caliginous ocean to your left that could be seen as terrifying and intimidating, but held an entirely unexplored world and connected you to uncharted lands. That could never been seen as terrifying to you, not anymore.

The ocean in daylight and the ocean bathed in moonlight were two vastly contrasting concepts — with the vivid hues of cerulean and gold, and the dusky shades of mercury and navy blues. One is reminiscent of Armin and the warmth he exudes, simply by living and sharing his mien. And the other, of Mikasa and the unwavering pillar of loyalty she provides, not to mention the blanket of security.

Now though, at the hours between night and day, the sea reminds you of Jean — for it melts the sense of security and warmth into one, and doesn't require you to throw on a warm jacket, neither would it force you to tie your hair back in search for a refreshing gust of air. The colors almost looked like the work of a spontaneous artist, ranging from intense and coruscating to dusky and chasmic.

The sea is pulchritudinous and enigmatic.

"How do you do it?"

Your eyes fluttered towards the sudden voice, so familiar to your ears. Just as you had expected, though unaccompanied by a pair of socks or shoes, the brunet peered up at your form, his dark hair delicately tucked behind his ears and lidded jade eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Very rarely, have you ever referred to those eyes as jade. But recently, there was no other word you could use to describe his serpentine irises.

"What are you yappin' about, Eren?" You ask, amusingly.

Laying his palm on the void spot beside him, he gestured for you to take it, which you obliged and took the time to dig a pit in the wavering sand for your feet to lay warmly in.

"Every time I'm thinking hard about something or am at a loss, to the point where my head throbs, you appear out of thin air." He explains, which causes your brow to contort in uncertainty. His words always seemed to have an extra, hidden, layer of meaning behind them.

"Sorry?"

Your response causes his eyes to roll jovially, before they settle back onto your face. "It's not a bad thing, silly. I don't mind it."

Your gaze settles back onto the horizon, noting the way the colors have seemed to deepened since the last you had ogled the scene. It shouldn't be too long before the sun completely takes its leave and trades shifts with the moon.

"Me neither." You state softly.

Eren's eyesight follows your own, before he speaks your thoughts aloud. "It's a nice day, or I guess, a nice sunset. Though it's getting dark already."

"Yeah, it is. The ocean seems, for lack of a better word, prettier than usual lately. Summer should be coming soon." You commented, your smile gentle in the remaining light of the late afternoon sun.

"Right." He agreed. "Are you planning to bring him for a visit anytime soon? He'd love to paint the sky at dawn." He suggested before the smallest chuckle, if it could even be considered that, escaped his lips at his next words. "I bet we'd have to bribe him to get any sleep. Maybe with that paint made from seashells that he keeps talking about."

At the mention of the boy who remained back behind the safety of the inner walls, a fond grin formed on your lips. "Even then, we'd take our eyes off of him for one second and the next thing we know, he somehow dragged himself back to the shore — with the paint we bribed him with too." You mention light heartedly. "Sometimes, I swear he's part merman."

Eren hums in amusement, and it's a small sound that seemed to be the most anyone could get out of him these days. You tossed and turned at night sometimes, pondering what had caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor. What had caused his eyes to sullen and the intricate stroma of his irises ingrained into them to deepen into that cataclysmic shade of jade? Perhaps they had always been that color, but if that were the case, what was it about his eyes before that had caused you to view them so differently?

The eyes truly are the windows to one's soul, though they aren't as pellucid as it would seem, for the existence of affliction and desolation always expelled sweltering steam and fog that obscured your view.

"Something is wrong, Eren." You admitted in as fragile of a voice as you could conjure, in fear you would cause him to pull away, just as he usually would when anyone would point out the obvious.

With his gaze trained intently on the darkening horizon, not sparing you a glance, he questions your words. "What do you mean?"

Tilting your head in an attempt to draw his attention to yourself, you state, "You know what I mean."

He does. His expression tells you so. Still, he did not relent. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Growing impatient and with urgency bubbling in the broth of your guts, you do not allow yourself to falter. "Cut the crap, Eren. There's somethin' you're not telling us about, and I want to know what it is."

His gaze fell to his lap, expression not gifting you a single key into his thoughts. "Nothing is wrong. I have everything under control." His voice said, vacantly so.

You were desperate, yearning for a window that he had somehow left open, for you to enter his mind. Eren was a person you held so near and dear to your heart, he was there continuously at one of the lowest moments of your life. And he is hurting, he is falling into a hollow crater located in the pits of his soul, as deep as the body of water before you, and he is doing it alone. But he shouldn't have to, not when you were right there in front of him.

You place your hand onto his arm and nudge him gently to face your way, "Don't do that, you're deflecting." You pointed out. "You can talk to us." You reassured him, before your eyes attempted to meet his yet again, and they implored for him to concede. "You can talk to me."

How do you help someone that does not want to be helped?

"I promise you, I've got it all under control."

"That's not what I'm asking. That's not what I care about." You state, unyieldingly, and willing to forget the empty promise he has just made to you, even knowing how meaningful those are to you.

His eyes moved to meet yours, the familiar intricate lines of his irises presenting themselves to you, unashamedly. "What do you care about?" He inquired.

Without a single ounce of hesitation, you state, "You."

If he felt any warmth from that revelation, he didn't show it. His brows stay furrowed as his stare intensified, as if he could read you like a book. "Is caring for me all that you feel?" He asks.

Your eyes soften as you answer his question, not phased by the slight change in your conversation. "No, of course not. I love you."

His face drew in closer to your own, and for the first time in what felt like a millennium, his eyes shed the barriers blocking you from entering the windows to his soul, like a reptile shedding skin. You could see him, all of him. He was begging you to say what he yearns to hear.

"In what way?"

Your breath falters, and your head subconsciously moves closer, enough to rest your forehead against his. You wish you could grant him what he truly wanted you to say. Without a doubt, your feelings towards the boy were not minuscule in size, you had meant what you said earlier, and that truth would reign until your last breath. You longed to bring him freshly picked daisies on your rare strolls across green fields, where you would invite him to lay with you and watch the stars. You want to be able to cry with him and share the baggage you both carry, and to not let yourselves handle any burden alone. Eren was the boy you wanted to fall in love with, to have him in the most secure place in your heart and never think to replace him.

You wish you loved Eren Jaeger, the way that he loves you. You wish you loved him instead.

But those daisies would never blossom and flourish as beautifully as they once did when you admired them years ago, and those stars would never gleam and radiate you adoring messages as they once did not so long ago, and you couldn't cry with him because just as you had with the aforementioned activities, you had already done so with someone else. Eren could not secure that sacred place in your heart, for that place was already taken.

"Eren." You whisper. You want to convey how sorry you truly are, but you don't have the heart to.

"Please Y/N," He pleads in a hushed tone, before his warm hand grasps your own, "I need to know."

Oh, how you love Eren Jaeger; unfortunately for him and for yourself, you are not in love with him.

How do you tell someone that your hearts still calls for the honeyed pools that cleaved through your soul and placed you at your worst. That you long for the sweet nectarine taste of his lips and the warmth his body exudes when sat under the sun, beside a brisk and anarchic river. That you hate the fact that, despite his sins against the people you care the most for, the imprint and memories that he left behind did not halt their daily tour around your mind.

The brutal truth is, you don't. You warp them like wet clay and force them in the caverns of your very being, not even admitting it to yourself, in fear of cementing those facts as exactly that, facts.

It feels like hours, which in actuality was merely minutes, before you properly garner your thoughts. You handpick your words like you pick berries and swallow the ones you deem useless, until you feel prepared to speak the naked truth towards the boy who desperately wants you to do the opposite.

"Y/N, we've been looking everywhere for you!" Jean shouts from a distance, his palms cupped around his mouth for projection. "Eren?" He voices his curiosity as he finally noticed that you weren't alone. "What are you guys doing?" He questions suspiciously.

Your parted mouth, set to speak your truth, halts midair at the sudden intrusion and you wonder why you hadn't detected his presence before. Both of your foreheads part in surprise, as well as your hands, and you turn to face the, now approaching, fawn haired boy. "Gods Jean. Don't do that." You scold.

The teenager simply looks from you to Eren in succession, his eyes conveying the questions he has yet to voice aloud. Knowing him, he'd definitely submit you to an interrogation the moment he deemed it right to, which you would immediately yield to. "Right... my bad." He replied without much regret, in fact he was most likely glad that he intruded when he did.

"Did you need something?" Eren asks, not even sparing the other boy a glance, simply returning his gaze where it had laid before your conversation — the sun now nowhere to be seen, a canvas of navy blue replacing where it had once stood. He did not appreciate Jeans arrival.

"Yes, obviously." Jean states, before focusing his attention on you. "Y/N, there are some new recruits that are looking to change up their hair styles. Connie mentioned your name and now there's a whole line of them-" He began, before the interrupter became the interrupted.

"It was not just me! Armin said so too!" Connie defended from afar, sometimes you swore that Sasha's abnormal hearing had somehow spread to him over the years.

The blonde mentioned by the second intruder waltzed down the shore behind him with an apologetic wince on his face, his lustrous locks bouncing with every bounding step he takes. "That's true. I'm sorry, I didn't know so many would be interested." He admits. "In my defense, I only mentioned it but those two really drove it home."

"Of course." You quip. "How could Sasha not be involved in the plotting of my demise?" A small smile formed on your face at the appearance of your friends. Your family.

Her cackles were heard before she made her appearance, such a buoyant one too. "Blame Mikasa!" She deflects, her index fingers pointing to the unbothered girl beside her. "She was the one that started your career in the first place!"

"I had nothing to do with the current situation." The ravenette states, shifting her head to playfully glare at Sasha.

"Wow, the waves are really calm tonight." Armin mentions his observation, his eyes always being drawn towards the sea and all that it offered.

You hummed, "I noticed that too."

"Perfect! I've been wanting to go for a swim since yesterday." Sasha announces as she trudged closer to the water.

"You don't even know how to swim." Jean tells her.

"I can learn." The girl states and you expected for some amount of preparation, or at the very least for her to take her shoes off, but this was Sasha. She did not care if her belongings sullied because of the salt embedded into the water.

"Sasha!" Armin yells in disbelief, "Your clothes!- and she can't hear me because she's underwater." He shook his head in disapproval. "The captain's not gonna be happy about this."

Resurfacing, with her hair bangs clinging to her face and lashes clumped together by the water, she beckons your group to join her. "Come on, the water feels good!"

"Mikasa?" You call to the girl who now stood beside you.

"I've got you." She replies and hands you a spare hair tie that she, for a reason unknown to you, always kept on hand, despite her own hair not bearing much length. Nevertheless, you accept gladly and move to put it to good use after handing her your head band that wouldn't be of any use to you right now.

"You're actually humoring her?" Jean asks you, bewildered at how easily the girl had always seemed to sway you along for most of her excursions.

Approaching the waves, you pivot to face the boy questioning your actions with a teasingly light smirk, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." You state and Connie whooped in delight as he followed after you.

"Ew, Y/N don't ever say that again. That's something Connie would say." He attempts to stifle his amused chuckles.

"I totally would." Connie agreed, not at all deflating at the light jab at him.

Jeans eyes roll into the back of his skull and he sighs before relenting, "Fuck it." He says and sprints to join you in the water.

"You guys comin'?" You call out to the trio who still hadn't shown any sign of moving from the shore.

Eren replied by simply sitting back onto the sand, having had stood to his feet along with you at the arrival of the others, before waving you off with a faint grin. You could tell he wasn't upset by the intrusion, not too much, and genuinely wanted to keep dry tonight. "Go ahead." He reassures, and like always, his words held depth to them. He would ask you the question that carved into his heart everyday if he had to, even if that meant his main organ being butchered like a scene of a sanguinary.

You didn't even have to glance at Mikasa to know that she would stay beside Eren, the world simply wouldn't work in the same way if that were any different. Armin though, did spare the wafting waves a glimpse, before taking his rightful seat beside the brunet. You didn't expect any less from the three, standing, or sitting in this instance, beside each other through thick and thin.

So you carried on, shielding yourself from the barrage of salt water thrusted at you by the two before you, with Jean at your side, the pair of you not accepting defeat at their hands. Prepared to handle the chastising conversation you would be dealt with from your captain when you returned to base, about how filthy your garments had grown.

Willing to endure extra chores, for an extra moment of peace.

Year 846

Faint whimpers escaped from between your fingers as your hands clamped against your lips in a futile attempt to withhold your cries. Glistening streams trickled down your cheeks and stuck to your lashes as you couldn't help but express your lamentation.

Your footsteps were hefty and lacking balance as you wobbled forward, and your body was wrapped securely in your cloak while your head was in the absence of the warmth the hood would have provided.

Icicles protruded from the evergreens that wreathed your figure, having had been caused by the slight changes in the weather as the ice slowly melted and the sun grew stronger. Snowflakes spun around you in a hypnotic dance, but you had paid them no heed.

Those days were always destined to be a day filled with sorrow, and the arrival of yet another Military Police officer in search of yourself only worsened your angst. You had made your escape into the woods once more, with both your body and breath trembling.

There was an affliction, deep within your soul, that felt as if someone was endlessly tugging and twisting at your insides and no matter how many sobs had left your lips, the ache did not lessen. Your lungs felt constricted, as if there was a source of pressure that gradually grew tighter, causing your irregular breaths to contort into painful heaves. The unyielding pain had caused your legs to feel as if they would collapse at any given second, but that is what you craved.

Any form of physical pain is what you yearned for at the moment, you would have accepted anything in an attempt to make the agony that fermented within your core, seem lesser.

You had fled deep enough within the woodlands that the animals that inhabited the conifers could have been seen going about their days — so, it had not come as a shock to you when your ears detected noises that came from your right. What had caused you to halt your grieving, was the fact that the sound that had caught your attention had seemed to match those of your own nose. Sniffling is what you heard and an exhale followed, both sounds that you deemed more human than animal.

Your head instinctively turned in the direction of the noises, and your eyes caught sight of a black boot, its owner shielded from your gaze by the trees. Your fingers wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks and you slowed your pace. Your eyes narrowed as you quietly craned your neck in an attempt at sneaking a peek at the stranger.

"Reiner?" You murmured, instantly recognizing the pale color of his hair.

He was sitting on the snow with his back against a tree trunk, and his head tilted towards the sky. It had been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with the boy, and all thoughts of him had fled your mind shortly after you had parted ways. You thought you would never see him again, bar the fact that he told you of his plans of enlisting in the military, the same as you.

Many people could say they were brave enough to do such a thing, but when the time arrived, so did silence. Still, it had surprised you of what a coincidence it was that you were both in the same part of the forest, on the same day, at the same hour; yet again.

"Hey stranger." You called out, your voice startling him and causing his body to jolt in surprise.

His eyes had widened at the sight of you, which was understandable considering he likely did not expect to see you again, and certainly not so soon. "How did you find me?" He asked.

"I wasn't really looking for you." You stated as you drew closer. "And if this is your definition of hiding, I think you'd do best without all the noise."

Your words caused him to hastily wipe his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, "I didn't notice." He admitted.

You looked at his sides and noted how empty handed he seemed. "What're you doing out here, again?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You look like you've seen better days." He said as his eyes inspected your face and you didn't blame him for saying so. You could feel how swollen your harsh tears had left your eyes, cheeks, and lips. You could only imagine how blood shot your sclera had gotten, but still, you made no attempts at shielding yourself. You had grown used to the swelling of your face and the headaches that the innumerable nights you spent curled up and silently wailing, had left in their wake. It also did not escape your mind that he sat in a similar state, albeit you admitted were slightly worse for wear.

Once you had been near enough that you could very clearly see the light pink that enveloped his eyes and nose, you sat beside him, against that same tree. Not enough that your shoulders had touched but enough that you could hear each other if you decided to whisper. "I asked first." You shrugged.

Mimicking the movement of your shoulders, he answered, "I guess it's just been a rough day for me. That and I've been feeling a little homesick lately." The latter portion of his sentence had dipped in volume and his brows furrowed slightly.

"I get that. I guess you could say the same for me." You said and although you did miss your home dearly, in your case it was that you missed the way home had made you feel. Not the conditions nor the people in general, but specifically, two boys that you hadn't seen in nearly a year.

His lidded eyes faintly widened in shock that your words had caused him. "Really?" He asked.

"Yeah." You replied with your eyes trained into nihility.

His eyes drifted away as he pondered on if he should ask or not. Even if he did, he didn't think he'd be much help. Another thought in his head began to plague his mind at that instant. It was what had continued to speak to him the moment he stepped onto this soil, and it never failed to remind him just who it was that he would converse, eat with, and sleep next to.

Six letters and two syllables.

But when did a thirteen year old ever listen to what their mind implored of them?

"Want to talk about it?" He asked hesitantly.

"...No." You whispered weakly, your gaze still. "Do you?"

Static air followed after you had returned his question. You didn't mind his lack of reply and were in fact, content in lingering inside the confines of your own mind, as it was customary on days like those. Your hippocampus shone with glimpses of dirty blonde hair and forest green pearls. Violet blossoms surrounded the person you envisioned, and warmth imbued their embrace. And then it was dusky navy blue eyes that glimmered like stars, and unruly black hair. Curls ghosted the ends of the small tufts that bounced their way around your mind and whispers, belonging to the small voice that you had began to struggle to remember, echoed in your ears.

"There was a man..." He began, though his voice only served as the diegesis to your reminiscent state. "-we met him yesterday." Though your eyes didn't move, your head shifted in his direction to indicate that you were listening. "He lived in Wall Maria, in a village somewhere in the southeast mountains." He sounded fragile when he had spoken of the man that roamed his mind. "...He said it happened at dawn. The animals were roused and there was rumbling that resembled footsteps."

It had clicked then, in your mind, what exactly the story Reiner recounted was explaining. The realization caused you to gaze at his side profile as he continued, "He went to go check, and opened the window..." He didn't have to tell you what it was that the man had found, and your understanding caused your eyes to soften, a minuscule amount of emotion returned to your expression. "The rest was a blur, the only thing he recalled was that he escaped on horse and left behind some kids."

Fight or flight response was a powerful phenomenon and basic human instincts, so you would have never held it against a man that you've never even met. "Is he doing okay?" You asked delicately.

His lashes fluttered and he looked off to the side as he assembled the courage to utter the words on the tip of his tongue. "He hung himself today."

You winced sympathetically and looked forward once again. "Oh... were you two close?" You asked and internally kicked yourself for not bearing the emotional capacity to be more comforting. The truth was, you didn't know how to.

"No, I met him yesterday." He reminded you. "But what's bothering me is that, he must have been planning to do it. So, why would he tell us that, knowing that he was going to do what he did?" He explained further.

You ignored the 'us' and 'we' that he had kept mentioning, in favor of focusing on the meat of his question. "Maybe he just wanted someone to know." You said, twiddling with your fingers as you went into thought.

"What do you mean?" He said and faced you for the first time since he had begun to elucidate his thoughts.

"Well, that's a day that is very hard to forget. It was the day that changed all of our lives, in one way or another, so I highly doubt that anyone who experienced the attack of the Titans has had a single moment of silence in their minds since then. It's like it plays on a loop, whether you're awake or asleep. All the sights, sounds, and most of all, the feelings." You explained as you recalled all that you had felt during those hellish moments. "Now, I wouldn't hold it against the guy for fleeing without those kids, hell- I don't even know his name, so what right would I have? But, I'm sure that he felt different. Even more so because, that was probably the first time he had ever admitted it aloud. I think he just wanted someone to know of the things he hated himself for... before he- y'know..."

His mouth parted in awe as he hummed to himself, and his eyes slowly shifted away from you in deep thought.

As you inspected his face for any signs that you had overstepped, you had grown doubtful in your analysis. "But, then again, those are just my thoughts. And I uh- didn't know the guy so I wouldn't take what I said seriously. Plus, you obviously already knew all about the reoccurring nightmares of that day and the hot flashes because you've lived through the aftermath yourself- so, my bad." You hastily reiterated your words.

"Oh yeah, of course." He forced himself to speak. "That's the part that I- uhm yeah I relate to that." He said and cleared his throat in an attempt to calm himself. "And anyways, don't apologize. We'll never know exactly why he did what he did, but I think that I agree with what you said, and I'm glad he was at least able to vent to me, if that was the case."

You hummed in agreement, "Yeah, I'm sure he appreciated that too." You said and directed a light smile his way for comfort, a gesture he had seemed to appreciate.

More silence billowed in the air around you and unlike the last time, you didn't get trapped in your thoughts, though one did cross your mind. One that you hoped would improve the atmosphere.

"Have you ever built a snowman?" You asked and clenched your fingers as to collect the ice from under you into one of your palms, before raising your hand and separating them to allow the white substance to return back to the ground, for emphasis.

His brow rose in question, "A snowman?"

"Yeah, like a man but one made of snow."

"I know what a snowman is." He deadpanned. "And no, I haven't. Have you?"

"No, but there should be enough snow to make one. Do you want to?" You asked and tipped your head his way, his eyes meeting your own.

A mischievous grin slowly but surely made its way onto his face, the right side of his lips raising first. That in itself was enough of an answer.

You both did your best to gather enough snow to begin to form the bottom portion of the man you were set to create. Without the use of gloves, your fingers began to grow stiff, not to the extent that it had caused you pain but enough that it drew your attention. Though, even with the noticeable stiffness in your fingers, neither one of you faltered in your molding. Although there were no parts of the ground that went uncovered by a sheet of ice, that sheet was thin and, most of the time, every time you attempted to scoop a grander amount into your hands, the ice grew muddy.

Smacking your lips in frustration, you groaned. "Ugh, dammit."

Reiner, who had been crouched a few feet away from you, looked up at the sound of your distress. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you're giving up already." He teased.

"No, obviously." Your eyes rolled in displeasure at the notion. "This snow just keeps on gettin' so damn muddy every time I try to scoop too deep." You explained as you flicked your fingers in an attempt to disperse the dirt from your digits.

The dilemma you faced had caught the attention of your companion. His amber irises began to inspect his surroundings as he brushed his palms together and stood on his feet. He approached a tree layered in the white iridescent snow, with few petioles clustered with needles escaping the sheet, and deemed it worthy. "Alright. Get on." He ordered.

The abrupt demand caused an incredulous expression to display onto your face, "Excuse me?" You answered.

In response, he crouched down again and patted the tops of his shoulders, "Hop on."

"Why?"

"Because the trees have plenty of clean snow we can use. I'll give you a boost and you can grab what you can, got it?" He explained.

His demanding attitude caused you to roll your eyes once again, before begrudgingly plodding over to his form in compliance. "Why do men always go 'round actin' like they can order me around?" You asked, rhetorically, though that didn't stop him from hurling the attitude back your way.

"You'll live." He said as you situated yourself as best as you could into a sitting position.

"I better. It would benefit you most if you didn't drop me." You replied and he lifted himself slowly. After he reached his full height, you did your best to gather as many bunches of crystal shavings into the safety of your arms — but as you inspected your surroundings, you had noticed that the higher you looked, the more bundles of frost had gathered onto the tree branches. You hummed softly as you contemplated how to handle your situation, before deciding on the most obvious action.

"What's wron-" Reiner began, only to get bombarded by a countenance full of frozen stardust that had caused him to splutter. He panicked when his legs wobbled slightly and then realized that you decided to take the plunge to stand on his shoulders. "Whoa- what the hell are you doing?!" He exclaimed as he took ahold of your ankles to stabilize your stance.

"I can get greater quality snow the higher up that I go, so quit moving so much and get on your tippy-toes." You justified your actions as your own followed suit.

"You better not step on my face or I swear to the walls-"

A light chortle bounced off of your lips, "You swear to the walls? I've never heard somebody say that here, are you from Stohess or some shit?" You asked sarcastically.

"I don't give a damn, just make sure that I don't get a face full of foot." He gritted as his stance relentlessly swayed back and forth.

You stretched your arm as high as it could reach while the other served as an anchor to the tree. "Almost there-" You murmured as your fingers slowly inched closer to your target. Unfortunately, just as your thumb and index fingers had gotten ahold of the cluster of needles, the entire white sheet that sat atop of it gradually slid down and descended towards your face. Your eyes widened in realization as you emitted a coherent, "Oof-" before your legs gave out and your body plummeted with the blanket of snow hugging your face.

Your form had fallen backwards which had caused the boy supporting you to do the same, creating a domino effect and an intelligible thump as you collided on the ground.

After a few moments of digesting the rumpus events that had occurred, you briskly sat up and shook your head to discard the ice particles that had found themselves tangled within your hair. The eerie silence that followed produced your heart to accelerate in panic, "Reiner?!" You called out.

"M under here." Came a muffled voice.

"Oops, my bad." You apologized. You didn't realize that he had broken your fall, but it explained the painless clash. You pulled yourself off of him and sat beside where he laid.

Finally free of the burden on his chest, he sat up from under the snow with wide eyes and disordered hair. "You almost suffocated me." He accused.

Chuckling at the state he was in, you ruffled his hair and snowflakes flew from his head. "But I didn't."

An obnoxious snort came from the boy and he gently clutched his stomach. "I can't believe you did that, it was so damn stupid." He derided.

Joining him in his laughter, you breathlessly defended yourself, "Stupid, but it got the job done. Look at all the snow we've got to work with now." You gestured to the pile of fluffy powder surrounding your forms.

Satisfied with what the sacrifice had accomplished, he nodded his head in determination and all but leapt back onto his boots. "Let's resume then." He said resolutely and reoccupied himself with rolling a clump of his snow until he had deemed it compacted enough to remain stable. You followed after with your own portion of ice that would soon be the middle of the body.

"Okay, so he's not gonna be as big as I had expected, but that's fine." He articulated his thought process, before turning to you. "Not all men have to be big and tough, right?"

With a faux pout, you began to tease, "Aww, is that what you tell yourself everyday?" You asked as your hands constructed what you planned to make the figures head. "Yes Reiner, you would know that not all men have to be intimidating." You had jested.

Stupefied features painted his face as his brain perceived your words. "What? You don't think I'm intimidating?" He asked you as his hands absentmindedly searched the ground for suitable stones to furnish as eyes.

"Well, you're not much taller than me really." You reminded him as he tossed you the stones he had acquired. "Anyways, I don't think you'd even qualify as a man, yet. Isn't chest hair needed for that or something? I doubt you've hit that milestone." You further expanded your reasoning as to why you didn't find the boy particularly threatening. Perhaps his stature did form most of your opinions on the subject, but you didn't doubt that the empathetic and somewhat sensitive nature he had allowed you glimpses of had also played its part.

His jaw dropped at the audacity you had to utter those words to his face. "I'm like a good couple of inches taller than you." He informed you matter-of-factly.

You embellished the stones like ornaments and meticulously placed two twigs in a downward arch so that your creation could have appeared blissful. "And yet I bet I could still topple you if I tried." You muttered and whether that bold statement was the truth or not did not burden you. Not unless he had suddenly decided to test your theory, but you doubted the thought to go through the effort had even crossed his mind. You sat back and admired your labor, though you noted that you weren't quite finished, as your ice person hadn't donned a nose yet.

In response, the boy mischievously feigned a pout as he observed your concentrated state. His pale fingers steadily inched closer to your most recently added detail and he maneuvered the dark wood in such a way that the arch aimed upwards instead of the latter, making your person don a frown that had replaced the grin you had concocted.

"You're making both men here sad, girl whose name I still don't know." He said woefully, before carving tear tracks onto the apple of the snow persons cheeks with his fingernail.

Indifferent to his fatuous display, you quipped, "Y'know, I'm getting tired of speaking with boys." And carved a set of feminine eyelashes onto the snow person. "That's better. I feel less disgusted."

Your actions only forced him to scoff, and he mimicked the same motions as before to carve a thick line across what would have been the upper lip of your creation, had they truly been personified. "Some guys have long lashes to pair with a thick mustache." He informed you.

Recognizing a challenge, your eyes narrowed playfully and you dragged your finger across the chest, forming arches that indicated the existence of breasts. "I've seen a couple gals with a nice stubble." You added, forcing the grin that threatened to manifest onto your face away, which didn't work as well as you had wanted it to. In fact, it hadn't helped at all.

Reiner, having had been inspired by your bold move, followed with his own. And so on and so forth, until your shared person had barely even been identifiable and the only thought on your mind was how exhilarated the moment of hilarity and bliss you shared with your companion had made you feel.

So, for your final move, your arm reeled back and swung forward with forceful momentum. Your sleeve had made contact with the frigid ice and caused it to disperse every which way, a great amount found its way towards Reiner before he could have even thought to dodge. Without a single flinch, he took it one step further and used his leg to stomp the rest of the form away, the snow doing the same to you as it had done to him previously. Not that the temperature had bothered you, in fact you embraced it as you typically did and vibrantly gleeful giggles spilled from within your vocal cords. Both of your melodies of exuberance mingled and interlaced to form flawless harmonies.

It was in that moment that you noticed, you had not belly laughed in so long, not as you did then. You hadn't felt so light about anything in your entire young life, and with a stranger that had yet to know your name. The pain that enveloped your core earlier that day had subsided and was replaced with a different kind. One that you had found you didn't mind. One that came with tears caused by the exertion of experiencing such pure bliss. One that caused you to cradle your stomach in an attempt to ease the contracting muscles. One that allowed release and transported your body into a state of euphoria. It was a state that you had begun to crave.

And you hated yourself for that.

How dare you experience such a tender emotion, and on that day, of all days. — When the people who deserved it the most weren't there to. How dare you live your life as if they had never existed. How dare you not spend your days mourning in a never ending rotation. How dare you have the will to proceed with your days in spite of what you lost. How dare you even think to ask for more.

And so your feelings of ardor morphed into those of anguish, your roars of hysteric laughter shifted into a paroxysm of cries in agony, and the comforting warmth nestled inside of your chest transformed into a raging inferno in the process of combusting your insides. The twisting and knotting of your lungs had returned and the pressure was slowly killing you from the inside out.

Reiner was stunned at the rate of which your emotions had performed a one eighty. One second he had felt his stomach churning with butterflies and the next, he found that his heart had plummeted and squashed those very insects that littered his insides at the sound of your wails. His eyes that were once shut in ecstasy had grown wide in concern. Your body had begun to curl inwards as you fell to your knees and you bowed your head enough that it met the cold hard ground.

He had no idea of how to react.

"W-what's wrong? Are you hurt- or did I do something?" He asked and you couldn't help but sob louder, your arms moved to enwreathe themselves around your figure. "Do you need water? I can go fetch some fresh if you want or something." He offered desperately in an attempt to find a solution to make your cries subside.

"St-Stefan." You had barely managed to emit the name in between your heaves. It was so faint and muddled that it had forced Reiner to strain his ears to decode what it was that you had asked for and even then he wasn't sure he had heard you correctly.

You just wanted Stefan.

"Is that a friend of yours? Do you want me to go get him? It'll probably take a while for me to get to your settlement and back but maybe if I could help you come with me-"

"He's dead." You breathed. "You can't go get him because h-he's dead!" You spoke with cracks present in your voice that carried its fragility.

In response, the boy froze and his eyes flew to anything but you. While your screams had subsided a small amount, your tears continued their downpour and sharp hiccups came sporadically, they were so powerful that you couldn't have prevented the jolts that ran through your body.

In the end, he had decided to remain quiet and allow you to attempt to regain your composure at your own pace, which you did so. By the time you had felt calm enough to speak, nearly thirty minutes of silence had ensued. You moved to sit crisscross as you trained your heavily lidded eyes ahead.

Even then, you didn't speak right away, only let the words gather on your tongue until it felt right to share them. "It's their birthday." You finally admitted what had been plaguing your mind from the moment the sun peeked over the horizon. "Both of them. Isn't that such a crazy coincidence? Six years apart and they still enjoyed spending it in the same ways too."

Your voice was so small that Reiner didn't dare to interrupt in fear that it might've disappeared completely. He let you unpack what it was that had caused you to sob so uncontrollably, that even mere laughter was enough to break the dam that aided you in retaining such overwhelming emotions.

"I never knew the exact date that I was born, so Stefan... such a kind Stefan, he suggested that I celebrate it on the same day that they did. They both didn't mind sharing with me, even if that meant they had to split the occasion in three." You spoke of the boys fondly and with so much adoration that brimmed your eyes. "I guess that kind of means that today is my birthday too. Although, I'm sure my actual one has passed already. I don't know why I think that way, but I do." You said and your lips had begun to feel chapped. "He would've been thirteen today... and baby Ciel-" Your sentence broke when a wave of hiccups bubbled in your throat as tears had threatened to fall once again. "Cielo would've been seven." You punctuated your statement with a broken sob and your head burrowed into your knees as you hugged your legs against your chest.

Reiner was petrified.

He did not want to know more for he feared that he knew the answer as to why you had spoken of them in past tense. Your confession had served as a sort of wake up call and reminded him once more just why he had arrived at your island in the first place. He wanted to flee and create as much distance as he could have between the two of you because he did not want to face the truth of how his actions had affected the people around him, least of all you. He reminded himself what he had been taught since young, what his people had deemed your own and he wished it didn't cause such an internal conflict. He berated himself for it — why would you, someone he had yet to learn the name of, cause him to question himself and the people that raised him into what he had become? It should not be that way, and especially not on your second meeting.

You were simply someone he had yet to know the name of, is what he repeated to himself... though, he had acquainted himself enough that he wouldn't mind seeing you everyday that would follow if it meant that he would soon learn it.

The mere sight of your form that had become so frangible had hurt him, pierced his heart and dug the blade in deeper with each tremble he saw your body endure. Why it did, he did not know, and though what he yearned for the most right at that moment was to flee, he did the opposite and drew closer.

Because when did thirteen year olds ever pay heed to what their minds pleaded.

Comforting and warmly snug arms swaddled your figure, a sentiment that was foreign to your body; a side effect from the copious amount of nights you had spent laid awake with the same emotions and thoughts plaguing you, though in those instances no consolation was offered. He didn't say a thing but simply embraced what he could of you and listened to you pour your heart out.

"The thing is, I'm not even mad that I spent the whole morning cryin', it's the only thing that I've felt in a while. Most days, I spend my time in the fields to keep busy, but even when I'm not, I just feel so fucking empty. So, in the nights where I do cry myself to sleep, I feel so relieved in the morning because it proves that I'm still human and not losing my mind. So, when I felt anything other than my usual torment, I got so damn mad at myself because, today of all days, my mind decides to make me feel something resembling happiness when really, I should keep crying my eyes out because the people that should be here, aren't." You didn't even realize that was how you had truly felt, but it was true and you allowed your tongue to spill every subconscious thought it had withheld for the first time in a long time.

Seconds of silence turned into minutes and minutes had felt as though they had morphed into hours. You knew that much time could not have passed because while the sun did seem to grow a shade more aureate, its position in the sky did not yet suggest preparation for nightfall. Your swollen eyes and throbbing head almost forced you to doze off in the warmth of Reiners arms, you leaned into him and felt the vibrations of his pounding heart, your own resounding beats following directly after in consonance.

Though, it seemed that he did not intend to stay without words. "You know, birthdays are supposed to celebrate birth." He stated.

Your brow furrowed, "What?"

"Well, and this is gonna sound cheesy but bear with me here, it's called a birthday for a reason." His voice was so mellow, you didn't mind him breaking the silence. "It's not supposed to be a remembrance of death, it's a celebration of the life you've been allowed to live, a celebration of your existence. It's the reason that most people blow out candles, some believe that it's to ward your wishes of purity and a lambent future to whatever god you praise, while others use it as a way to thank them instead, for the aid they have provided in the life they've built."

"And if they don't have a future? What if they truly are gone, what then? And what if the life they have lived wasn't prosperous or anything to be proud of?" You genuinely asked. Both Stefan and Cielo lived a life full of bad deals and if any god had played a hand in that, why would you thank the architect of a dilapidated structure?

"They're never truly gone, not unless you will them to be. You don't have to remember them for what they lost or never attained, but instead, for all their wins and what they gratified."

What he said had made sense to you, and in any other situation, perhaps those words alone would have been enough to persuade your view to change. But, every angle at what the boys had that you descried, you could not fathom what merit their life had possessed. In your eyes, they were robbed of the chance of pursuing further miles stones that they had yearned for, and maybe it was wrong for you to assume as such but those feelings came from a place of deeply rooted love that you harbored for them both.

Hesitantly, he continued, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that your point of view of what they got to experience was not enough, which is fair because, to you they deserved the world. But, have you considered that maybe they saw their life as fulfilled? Or that they were content with the small things they were able to accomplish? And maybe it wasn't, but isn't it better to hold that perspective in your back pocket? As if, if they had the chance to look at what or who they left behind, they would feel it was enough."

"Maybe, but does that mean they're happy to have left me alone? They didn't have to both go."

"Not necessarily in a way that they're glad to have left those things or people behind, but content as in, they trust those people to keep moving forward or maybe even pick up where they left off, in a way."

That was the second instance in which you had doubted your long term goal. Both Stefan and Cielo promised that if they were granted the opportunity at actualizing your aspirations of venturing beyond the walls, they would have taken it without a second thought, and in return, you had promised the same, but in the moment, you were under the impression that you would do so together. Doing something so new, strange, and alien completely terrified you. So, while it was not enough to sway your long term goal in the opposite direction, that conversation fermented the seed of doubt, that had been previously planted by Annie, into your psyche. There was doubt in your road to revenge.

"Or! I could be completely wrong and overstepped my boundaries." He panicked at your silence, his arms and head pulled away hastily.

You faced him and wiped at your nose and cheeks to rid them of the aftermath of your meltdown. "No, it's okay really. I- uhm... needed that. I'm sorry for ruining...whatever that was." You trailed off, not really comprehending where you were headed with the apology.

The ghost of a smirk appeared on his face as he took in your words. "Oh? And what was that?" He jested.

"I just said, 'whatever that was' which means I don't know." You told him with a whimsical eye roll.

He hummed, "What a shame."

"Not really." You added.

He chuckled lightly at your remark before sincerity slipped back into his expression, "But seriously, you don't need to apologize, I get it. And plus, feel free to sucker punch me if I'm overstepping but, today is your birthday, right?" He asked.

You looked at him suspiciously, uncertain at what he was getting at. "Not really, I don't know when mine is. Also, I'm sure it's passed already, like I said earlier. Today is Stefan and Cielo's birthday." You explained, not wanting to make the occasion more for yourself than you already had.

"I'm sure both Stefan and Cielo wouldn't want to celebrate it alone, right?" He told you with hesitance very obviously laid within his tone. He was walking on eggshells as to not tip over on the tightrope of your boundaries, which he had felt like he was dancing on. He also made sure not to ask the forbidden question, one that he ached so badly to ask but he knew the answer would create such a disorder in him.

"You've never even met them."

"Nobody wants to celebrate a birthday by themselves. Who would light their candles?"

"We don't have candles, idiot." You tittered.

He hummed in thought, "Maybe not..." He moved to unbuckle his jacket and pulled out a small black pouch from within a hidden inside pocket. He fluidly untied the knot that sealed the objects inside of the portable bag and stuck his hand inside to search for something specific. Lo and behold, you didn't expect that what he would slip out was a set of matches. "This is survival 101, never leave your post unprepared." He informed you boastfully.

The sight had caused your eyes to widen as you exhaled in surprise. "What- you've got matches?" You whispered.

"Duh." He quipped which caused your astonishment to diminish. "I know they're not candles but this should do. Plus, it's not like we need it to burn for long, just make sure to blow it out quick." He explained.

You shook your head as he further baffled you, "Wait, what? Me? I'm gonna blow it out?" You asked with a finger pointed towards your face.

He mimicked your actions, his own digit being used to emphasize you, "Yes, you. Who else?"

"But why?"

He set his pouch down and opened the small box, sliding the portable miniature torches out and grabbing a singular one, before setting the rest away. "Because, I don't have nothing to say to them. Even if today isn't your actual birthday, why wouldn't you want to celebrate it with them? Make a wish, tell them a secret, or simply ask them a question. Either way, once you blow them out, the smoke will ward your words their way. Isn't that a great tradition?" He asked and punctuated his question with the ignition of the little flame in his hands as he settled it between both of your faces.

Although the woods weren't yet a dark abyss, the flickering minute inferno did not fail to set alight Reiner's features. His honeyed eyes seemed to shift a shade deeper, the vibrant saffron flame reflected its visage onto his pupils, a sight that brought among the warmth to your insides once again. The dips and valleys of his face were highlighted, bringing to your attention details that you hadn't before espied. The delicate arch his nose took, the way the hair of his brows were slightly darker than those on his head, the form in which his cheeks were sculpted but still kept their youthful bounce, and even his lips appeared more voluminous due to the shadows on their perimeters. A familiar sensation had arose within you, it caused your mind to grow hazy and your surroundings to darken, and left the boy before you in an angelic halo.

Your enchantment was not one sided, for the flames glow had enhanced your profile as well. Both of your gazes connected in the illusion of being the sole inhabitants of the land from with you plucked and plowed each day. The flickering of the match before you had awoke you from its spell and reminded you of the fact that you were merely two humans in a world overrun by mindless monsters.

You cleared your throat and directed your eyes downward before you swallowed and set your sight onto the object in the hands in front of you. "Uhm, so do I say it out loud or-" You begun.

He visibly flinched in response to being awoken out of his delusion and looked anywhere besides the face he was caught memorizing. "Oh, yeah. I mean, no! You have to say it in your head otherwise it won't ring true." He explained before lowering his voice for the latter part of his instructions. "And you have to uhm... tell me your name. Cause, I have to say it for this to work." He added. "Rules are rules, you know."

"Oh, really?" You said, a brow lifted and your lips did not attempt to hide your forthcoming smirk.

"Yes." He nodded curtly.

"Y/N."

A smile carved itself onto his face as he took in the sound of your name for the very first time, of many to come. "Okay, Y/N." He nodded and tried the foreign word on his tongue; which slipped out as smoothly as fall honey. "Make your wish."

In preparation to speak to the loved ones you had lost, you sat on your knees and scooted closer to the light. You closed your eyes and searched deep within your cavernous soul for the words you craved to direct to the afterlife, if such a place existed. You asked yourself, if you had one last chance to ask or dispatch your words to both Stefan and Cielo, which ones would you choose? And you steeled yourself, and allowed your phrases and vocables to rebound throughout your mind, while you inhaled the strength to proceed.

'I hope I make you proud.'

And then, the once dancing flame, extinguished.

Fun fact: Remember that flower crown mentioned in the scene of Stefan’s death? Yeah, he was making that for you before… yk: 💀☠️

28 notes · View notes

anxiousgaypanicking · 3 months

Note

Okay, so I have a request 🙈 -that you can feel free to ignore- because my real life situation is frickin setting up for a smut plot but I'm not activating it 😂 but one of the Sides 👀👀👀 definitely would. So a roommate who constantly makes noise like he's getting off/fucked and like, lays in bed twitching like he's got somethin in his ass 👀 so what happens when someone buys him a thrusting/vibrating dildo/plug via Amazon and it shows up when he's home alone. Does he use it alone? Does he get caught by the roommate who bought it? That day? Eventually? Ever? I'd love to know your take. Pairing of your choice. -😳

Home Alone

Demus (Janus x Remus) Warnings: toys, plugs, hair pulling, thigh fucking

"I don't remember ordering a package," Remus mumbles, scratching at his stubble as he leans in the doorway of his house. He's staring at a box placed at the front door, addressed to him, but the contents unknown.

Sure, Janus often has things shipped to their house - they are roommates after all - but he puts his name on those packages, and gets rather pissy when Remus snoops inside of them, claiming "that's illegal" and that he'll "send Remus to the pound" if he does it again.

Perhaps this was something Remus has ordered while drunk, and simply forgot. That's happened more than once, after all.

He grins and grabs the package, so delighted with himself that he basically skips inside. Sure, he may not remember what's in here, but he's looking at this situation like it's a nice, surprising gift! Anything could be in here, and Remus had quite the vivid imagination, which meant this box delighted him immensely.

The mere thought that this could be anything from a bomb to a basic tee-shirt entertains his hyperactive mind as he tosses the box onto the couch, and then falls onto it after, laying on his stomach as his sharp nails dig into the packing tape.

Effortlessly, he pokes his finger through the material, and then slices it open, gathering up and then tossing the sticky strips carelessly to the floor, knowing he'll probably get an earful for making a mess when Janus gets home from grocery shopping. Then, he's opening the box up.

Inside is a thick, black plug, and a small remote folded within an equally minute packet of instructions printed in small, hard-to-read lettering. Immediately, Remus is whooping as he rolls onto the floor, barely stunned by his back hitting the ground as he rushes to dig the plug out of the packing peanuts and set the remote on the table.

"Man, I sure do love spoiling myself!" he exclaims excitedly, congratulating himself on his unplanned purchase.

Tipping the remote over, he slides the back open and checks it for batteries, only to see a plug instead. At the bottom of the box is a small charging cord. Remus hums as he stands and brings his new toy to his room, immediately sitting near an outlet and plugging the remote in. He lets it charge until a small light on the remote glows blue, where he's hitting what he presumes to be the "on" button (a big button in the center, with two smaller ones below and above it).

Immediately, the plug starts buzzing with intense vibrations, making Remus squeal. He grabs the plug with his hand, holding it as he takes his time hitting the small button on top until the plug seems to reach its max intensity, and then doing the same thing with the lower button until the plug stops vibrating at all. It seems to have a wide range of vibrations that have Remus kicking his feet with anticipation.

"Thank you, Past Me, for surprising Present Me with a lovely little toy!" Remus babbles out loud, already shimmying his clothes off. He mumbles a silly response to himself of "you're welcome, Present Me. Aren't I a genius?"

His shirt and pants discarded, Remus is quick to reach toward his nightstand and feel around for lube, which he's quick to pop open once he finds. He doesn't care that he's still seated on his floor; all he cares about is pouring an excessive amount of lube on the toy and then picking it up, bending down to be on his forearms and knees as he teasingly drags the plug between his cheeks.

He leaves a trail of lube between his crack, before he slowly pushes the toy into his hole, moaning loudly as he feels himself stretch around it. He's sexual enough normally that he didn't bother to finger himself open beforehand, but this plug makes him feel pleasantly full, especially after Remus pushes it in up to its base.

Moaning obscenely loud, Remus lets his face push against the floor, working the plug slowly in and out of him just to tease himself, before he pushes it in fully and then lets it go.

It fills him up so nicely, and as he sits back on his calves he can't help but slap his own ass and grin. Damn, he's sexy.

The plug seemingly fits perfectly inside of him, or so he'd claim, but the plug itself isn't that exciting on its own. What really delights him is the remote that came with it, of which Remus is eager to grab and click on.

Immediately, medium vibrations are pleasuring his ass, making him squirm happily as he pushes his chest against the floor, presenting his ass into the air.

His door is wide open, but he's home alone, so his noises of pleasure echo throughout the house.

His thumb caresses the remote as he debates between flicking it as high as it can go, or lowering the vibrations and edging himself just to be a tease.

Finally, he settles on raising it a bit, and then sitting back on his knees, groaning as he messes with the plug. He pulls it out just enough for the widest part of the plug to stretch around his hole, and then pushes it back in deep, clenching around the toy as he fidgets with it until he can feel it pressing against his prostate. Violent vibrations torture the bundle of nerves, making him cry out a sultry "oh, fuck!" followed by a loud and nasally moan.

That just so happens to be the noise Janus is greeted with as he opens their front door.

He can't really feel anything but amusement and a sense of pride as he listens to Remus no doubt play with the toy he bought. After all, he'd gotten the alert that his package was delivered this morning, and it isn't on the porch waiting for him. But why would it be? He'd addressed it to Remus, after all.

Janus sets his groceries down on the kitchen floor, directing them towards the counter with his foot before he shamelessly struts to Remus's room, not surprised to find the door wide open.

Smugly, he leans in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hm," he begins, loud enough to get Remus's attention, "I see you're enjoying your little gift."

Unsurprisingly, Remus isn't ashamed of being caught at all. In fact, he doesn't even bother to pause his playing while talking, just grinning wide at Janus as he grinds down on the toy as best he can.

But Remus still picks up on the implications of Janus's comment, and smiles wide as he slides the toy out a little bit once more. "So that explains why I don't remember buying it!" he exclaims, before moaning loudly as he shoves the plug back in, muffling it's intense vibrations. "But why question a good thing?"

His words are routinely broken by his lewd noises, but he still gathers enough breath to ask "may I know why you've decided to spoil me all of a sudden?"

"Don't make it sound so sweet," Janus chastises, as he pushes Remus's bedroom door closed. He strides towards Remus without hesitation, and helps him off the floor and onto the bed, pulling the remote from Remus's hands in the process. "I did this selfishly. Your gift was completely for my benefit."

Remus moans. "How so?"

Janus clicks the toy down until the vibrations cease entirely, making Remus whine immediately. When he goes to complain, he's silenced by Janus raising his hand, clearly about to offer an explanation. And though Remus is impatient, he's also curious, and so can settle on clenching around the toy until Janus is done.

"You're loud," comes Janus's immediate response. "Very loud. Even with your door shut I can hear your perverted moans seeping into the living room, interrupting my shows or distracting me from work. It's really inconsiderate, you know." Janus moves closer, before waving Remus up.

"Get on the bed," he orders, and Remus scrambles to obey immediately despite the fact they've not done anything sexual previously. He's still inclined to obey.

Remus immediately rolls onto his chest, lifting his ass into the air and bringing one of his hands back to pull his ass cheek to the side in order to show Janus the plug's base, with the toy itself nestled comfortably inside of him.

"Do you know how much of a tease you are?" Janus continues, and Remus can feel him kneeling on the bed behind him. "Always torturing me with your whorish noises, and never inviting me to touch?"

"I thought that could be assumed," Remus responds, only to jolt and moan when he feels a harsh slap to his ass in response.

"Shut up." Janus is firm, and swats Remus's groping hand away after a moment, taking to running his own hands over Remus's cheeks, groping them to his liking before he spreads them apart and grabs the base of the plug, slowly pulling it out before pushing it back in, repeating the process a few times before he's seemingly over Remus's quiet grunts of pleasure.

Janus's hands slide away from Remus's body, making Remus turn his head back to try and catch a glance of him, only for the plug inside of him to suddenly buzz to life once more. He cries out immediately, arching his chest further against the bed while his cock leaks onto his comforter.

"It's powerful, isn't it?" Janus commentates, knowing Remus isn't going to respond. "I made sure to get something stimulating enough to keep you interested. You seem like the needy type, after all."

"How'd- how'd you guess?" Remus gasps out, between moans.

Janus smirks. "I'm very perceptive."

There's the sound of a zipper, followed by lube, and then Remus feels Janus's hand dance across the back of his thighs.

"I can assume the answer, but just to make sure, this is okay, right?" Janus asks, pausing for a moment. Remus is quick to affirmatively answer, making Janus grin before his hands are placed on the sides of his thighs.

Momentarily, Remus wonders what he's going to do, before he feels Janus sliding his cocks - two?! - between his legs, rubbing them against Remus's own cock and closing his thighs around them to give him more friction.

"It'd be a waste to pull that plug out of you," Janus muses, as he shifts the toy around a few times before pressing it up against Remus's prostate, making Remus cry out in sudden pleasure. "Especially after how much I spent on it. You really owe me, you know." Grinding slightly, Janus rubs his cocks over Remus's own, making them both moan.

His arm slides around Remus's waist, and grabs all of their cocks to the best of his ability, squeezing them against each other.

"Two cocks," Remus moans, tongue brazenly out of his mouth as he pants like a dog. "You're a fucking freak. That's so hot!"

Janus scoffs. Here Remus is, letting his roommate use him like a toy, and he's the freak? Hmph.

In response, he squeezes his hand roughly around their cocks, stroking them hard and fast and making himself groan as he leans over Remus's back. His free hand fiddles with the toy's remote, and he lowers the intensity a few notches. When Remus whines, Janus just says "we don't want you spoiling our fun too soon, do we?"

Realistically, even if Remus came too soon for Janus's liking, he'd just overstimulate him until he was satisfied.

"Turn the vibe up," Remus pleads, through dramatic sobs of pleasure. "Pretty please?"

Out of spite, Janus drops the remote onto the bed and grabs Remus's hair instead, pulling his head back and watching drool roll down Remus's chin. The lower half of his face is a mess of spit, and he's careless in moaning louder at the feeling of Janus's fingers tangled in his messy locks.

"Fuck!"

Janus curses under his breath at how vocal Remus is. He knew this would be the case; that's why he was encouraged to do this in the first place, but being in the room with him and listening to him moan and cry with each stroke of his cock or fidget of the plug made Janus realize just how sensually sensitive he is. No wonder he's so loud; a brush against his nipples or a thumb over the slit of his cock probably has him nearing an orgasm almost instantaneously!

Janus keeps one of his hands knotted in Remus's hair, and tugs his head occasionally just to earn a pained whine, while his hand speeds up on their cocks. Remus really is quite the teasing slut.

"I should have done this sooner," Janus grunts, lips pressing against Remus's neck. His sharp teeth scratch Remus's imperfect flesh, dragging over scars and moles and random patches of rough skin that Janus leisurely lets his tongue roll over. With the plug vibrating so low, Remus is the one that's feeling truly cheated. Yes, it's pleasurable, but it's not enough. If Janus wasn't stroking him off right now, he'd be saying a lot more!

"Please," Remus begs, shooting his shot with pleading once more. "Turn it up! Need it, please!"

Janus sharply tugs on Remus's hair, earning a cry of desperation, but finally slides his fingers out of it after a moment, watching Remus's head fall quick onto the pillow beneath him, moist with his spit. Despite how fun it is hearing him moan and cry, Janus didn't spend an absurd amount of money on this remote-controlled vibrator just to not use the remote. That'd be silly.

He grabs it, clutching it tight as he works his hand over his cocks, rubbing them against Remus's quickly. Without a word, he's flicking the remote up a few notches, watching Remus push his chest into the bed as he moans out Janus's name.

"So hot!" Remus gasps, feeling the plug torture his prostate. "I don't- I don't-" he gasps, before steadying his voice just enough to express "I don't know how I'm going to take this toy out. I want to keep it inside me forever!"

"Gross," Janus utters, but he clicks the vibe up another peg. He doesn't doubt that Remus will get plenty of use out of the plug, but he'd rather Remus take it out once in a while, lest they want a hospital trip on their calendar.

Moaning loudly, Remus's fingers drag across the sheets as he rocks his hips, feeling Janus's hand pump his cock and the plug jostle in his ass. He feels so hot.

And then Janus is turning the plug up all the way, maximum vibrations torturing Remus's prostate with little more than a soft click, which has him crying out immediately "I'm close! I'm close!"

He's so loud, so shameless, and so quick to come after announcing his approaching orgasm. Clearly, he was a lot closer than he claimed, and his semen spurts over the sheets in thick ropes, until his cock hangs leaky and spent.

Janus strokes him through his orgasm, before pulling his hand back and turning the vibe down low. Not off, low. Then, he scoots back just enough to push Remus's thighs further together, and leans over him, promptly fucking his thighs as quick as he possibly can. Lube slicks up the sides of Remus's legs, with Janus's cocks rubbing against each other and Remus's flaccid shaft, which seems excited by the brief contact it gets with each thrust until it's twitching and hardening once more.

"Whore," Janus spits, though his words are more amused than anything else. "If you get hard again you're on your own."

Remus whines, fully intending to stroke himself off again once Janus comes. And he wants Janus to come.

"Make a mess of me," Remus pleads, clenching around the plug in his ass. He lifts his body up so that his back is weirdly bent, and so the top of his head is against the pillow, facing toward Janus's rocking hips and his own limp cock. Tongue hanging out of his mouth, Remus implores Janus "come on my face! Fucking ruin me!"

And Janus does. With little more than a moan of his own, Janus thrusts his cocks hard between Remus's thighs, and comes. He makes a mess of Remus's chest, the bed, and Remus's face. His come spills over Remus's cheeks, lips, and even gets into his hair, meaning that when Janus pulls back and Remus rolls over, he gets to see the fruits of his labor.

Remus licks his mouth.

"Fuck," he curses, panting. His half-lidded eyes observe Janus from across the bed. They both just stay for a moment, catching their breaths, before Remus goes "so... do I get another sex toy the next time you want to bang?" which promptly gets Janus throwing the remote at Remus's chest.

"Buy your own damn toy," he huffs, before tucking his cocks back into his pants. "And close your door. Especially at night." He pinches the bridge of his nose, recalling the many sleepless nights he's had as a result of Remus getting horny at two in the morning.

Remus just laughs in response.

But as Janus gets up to leave, smoothing out his clothes and running his fingers through his sweaty hair to straighten it out, Remus calls "feel free to use me any time you'd like, though."

Janus glances at him and sees Remus scooping Janus's come off his face and sucking it off his fingers, before Remus adds "after all, I'm going to be moaning your name a lot more after this. It's only fair that you come be the one to make me moan it, y'know?"

Janus rolls his eyes, and doesn't respond, but Remus knows he'll be back. And until Janus decides to use him again, Remus had a new remote control toy that he could turn up whenever he so desired. Such as right now.

And as Janus pulls his door shut, he hears muffled buzzing, followed by a crescendo of moans that Janus knows will echo through the house until Remus is done.

#ask #demus #demus smut #sanders sides #sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #agp smut

27 notes · View notes

maelstroms-blog · 1 year

Text

This is just a silly thought i had, it took me ages to put it into words. [I forgot how to grammar],.then of course.it dissolved into hurt/comfort. Oh well.

Dream had seen many times, always in dreams. Birthday parties. How he detested the noise, the shouting, the lights, bright and flashing, and the vivid colours that all blended into one.

It was an irritable sight, but one that had to be tolerated. To be the embodiment of the unconscious mind, unfortunately, involved birthday dreams.

Dream never saw rhe point, humans celebrating their march towards his sister, only to balk and fight against her embrace.

Truly, confusing creatures.

No, Dream never paid the ritual much attention, not since his poor Orpheus was alive. Then, he met a certain immortal, who was turning 667.

It was through an overheard conversation, between Hob and Mervyn of all people, or creatures, having a cigarette break. Through the thick plumes of smoke, he watched his Hob smile,

'Do you know what I miss? Birthday cakes,'

'What are you talking about?' Mervyn grunted,

'Birthday cakes!' He repeated, gesturing wildly, 'To make a cake from scratch and gift it to your loved one, there's just something so wonderfully human about it, don't you think?'

His brown eyes sparkled, the same way they did when Dream first met Hob. That mischievous gleam. Dream had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on him.

Mervyn sighed, 'I guess,'

Hob sighed, 'It's been centuries since I received a birthday cake. A big one with icing and cream and all sugary nonsense.'

Dream could see the appeal, before their centennial meetings, cakes would have been akin to gold. Only for the upper class. Hob would have been lucky to see one, let alone taste one.

'Victoria sponge was my favourite, simple, sweet.' The noise he made shouldn't have sent a shiver up Dream's spine, but it did.

Mervyn grunted, 'Don't have a taste for sugary things,'

'You're missing out,'

'Can't you just go to a shop and buy one?- he blew smoke out of his eye holes,

'You got cake money, don't you?'

'I do, but it's not as good as homemade, especially getting one as a gift.'

Dream didn't hear the rest, he retreated into the shadows, a plan already forming in his mind.

It was another week before Dream could find the time. He waited until Hob left his flat, locking the door behind him. Dream waited then appeared in his kitchen. It was clean, modern, with a few antique appliances, ones that Dream had only seen in dreams. He glanced at the oven, eyeing it the way you would a wild animal.

Dream turned, opening his book to the correct page. There were plenty of baking books in the library and Lucienne was quick to find an adequate one. She offered it with a knowing smile. He said nothing, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He preheated the oven, although he didn't see the point. Why would an oven need warning to do its job?

The first step was easy, finding a bowl, pouring in flour. The flour did end up being tricky, a powdery cloud shot into the air, settling in Dream's hair. His nose twitched, he sneezed. He shook his head, sending a flurry of powder to the ground.

Engrossed, he didn't look up when he heard familiar flapping, Hob left the window open for a reason.

'Hey boss,' Matthew greeted, 'What're you-,'

He stopped, head tilting as he took in Dream's appearance. His usual dark demeanor, dyed white with flour, whilst a rainbow apron was tied around his tiny waist. He supposed it was an odd sight for a king. He didn't care, it was for Hob.

'What is it, Matthew?' Dream asked, voice as regal as ever, 'I am busy,'

'I can see that, just checking up.'

Dream looked at his raven,

'Lucienne sent you, didn't she?'

Matthew ducked his head, 'What? No.'

Dream sighed, 'Well, since you are here, you can offer some assistance,'

'Oh, good...'

Dream didn't notice his tone, he was pulling out eggs and scanning the recipe.

'Fold in two eggs,'

Dream looked at the bowl, he looked at the eggs. With one quick motion, Dream pulled the mixture back and tucked the eggs inside, like the eggs were his sleeping subjects.

Matthew cawed, 'Uh, boss, what're you doing?'

'Baking a cake,' Dream answered, simply,

'Yeah, but the eggs?'

'The recipe states to fold in the eggs,' he picked up a whisk,

'Are you saying it's wrong?'

'No, you're meant to crack the eggs, to make it all liquid-y.'

As if on cue, there was an ungodly crunch when Dream plunged his whisk into the bowl.

Matthew hid his face under his wing. He hoped Hob liked his cake crunchy.

'Did you add sugar?'

Dream's mixing paused, 'Was I supposed to?'

'...yes,'

'Cakes are inherently sweet, are they not?'

'No!' Matthew spread his wings, 'You need sugar,' he flapped around Hob's kitchen, 'Where does he keep the sugar?'

'I do not know,' he reached for a blue bottle and upended it. The stench of vanilla was overpowering, even Dream was wrinkling his nose.

'Too much!' Matthew then raised his beak, sniffing at the air,

'Uh, boss, did you turn the oven on?'

At his question, Dream actually looked smug,

'Indeed, it was the first step,'

Matthew shifted nervously from claw to claw,

'How high though?'

In leiu of an answer, a burst of black smoke billowed out of the oven. Matthew screamed, in a surpringly human-like way.

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

Hob had lived a long life, a very long life, and there are some things you never forget. It was in London when he first became acquainted with it. That horrible, burning smell. It permeated the air until you could taste the ash on your tongue. It had been weeks until Hob's skin healed, even longer for him to stop coughing.

He never forgot that smell, though. And now, as he entered his flat, his nostrils burning. He immediately grabbed his extinguisher and burst through the door, he was met with a very strange sight.

His oven, on fire, a screaming, squaking raven, frantically trying to put out said fire by splashing in the sink, and at the counter, his lover, the king of dreams and Nightmares, waving Hob's own rainbow apron, trying to quell the flames.

Icy blue eyes, normally so calm, shimmered with galaxies as he panicked. Matthew let out another shriek, his wing lit up like a candle.

Wasting no more time, Hob pulled the pun and sprayed the entire kitchen.

Once everything was doused, and Matthew was calmed down, Hob led the way out of the ruined kitchen to the couch for first aid.

'What, pray tell?' Hob began, rubbing cream on Dream's hand,

'Possesed you to ignite my kitchen?'

He wasn't angry, and for that, Dream was grateful. Despite the other man's weak attempt at levity, Dream didn't miss the flicker in his brown eyes, especially at his hands. His usual, pale skin was blistered red. It would heal when Dream thought about it, but he didn't. He kept the burns.

Matthew, unusually quiet, was grounded, his left wing hidden under a bag of ice and curled up.in Dream's lap, his little body shivering from leftover adrenaline. Every so often, Dream would place a hand on his raven, soothing him, hoping his touch would convey his apology.

Dream looked away, 'I...wanted to surprise you,'

'Well, you succeeded,' Hob smiled, it vanished when Dream bowed his head,

'I am...sorry,' he muttered, 'Believe me, this was not my intention.'

'Course, duck, I know that,' he gently patted his shoulder, Dream continued, or tried to,

'I-I wanted...I-I heard-,'

'He wanted to make you a birthday cake,' Matthew piped up, then promptly went back to silently shivering. Dream hugged him closer, more grateful than ever for his outspoken raven.

Hob blinked, 'A cake?' Why would you-,' then he realised,

'Oh, you heard me talking with Mervyn,' he sighed. At the sound, Dream stiffened and turned away. This was the worst possible outcome, and he couldn't even reach for his sand. He flexed his sensitive fingers. A beat passed, Hob silently looked at his lover, then, wrapped his arms around the Dream king.

Dream could only blink in surprise,

'Why? Why are you?' His voice was thick, he couldn't move his head to look at Hob but could feel him nuzzling into his messy, wet hair.

'Oh, my love, thank you,' Hob breathed, near tears,

'Why are you thanking me? I failed to create your birthday cake, and in doing so, I ruined your kitchen,' his eyes misted over,

'I don't deserve your gratitude.'

Hob gently shushed him,

'You're wrong, you do deserve my gratitude. You went out of your way to make me something, something you had no clue how to make, all that you did know was that you wanted to make me happy,' Hob gently raised Dream's head, until he could look into dark, watery eyes,

'No one has done that for me in centuries.'

'But your kitchen-,'

'I can have it fixed, what matters is that you're OK,' he lifted Dream's bandaged hand to his lips, carefully, as if a kiss could heal the skin.

'And me,' Matthew piped up, he was rewarded with a head scratch.

'I truly am sorry, Hob,'

'I know, duck,' he rubbed his thumb along Dream's cheek, wiping away a stray, sparkling tear.

'But, hey, isn't it the thought that counts?'

Dream couldn't help himself, he let out a small laugh. At the sound, Hob hugged him tighter, kissing him all over.

'Hey, come on you guys,' Matthew cawed, 'I'm traumatised enough already.'

Based off that scene from Sleeping beauty

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dreamling #ferdinand kingsley #tom sturridge #dream x hob #matthew the raven #matthew the sandman #neil gaiman #dabble #criticism welcome

179 notes · View notes

em-dash-press · 1 year

Text

How to Write Metaphors

Making your story stand out to readers requires vivid descriptions. You have to weave senses and emotions into scenes, which might mean using a few well-placed metaphors.

Here are a few tips to help you understand why metaphors exist, their purposes, and how to write them more effectively

What Is a Metaphor?

A metaphor is a figure of speech that makes one idea more clear by associating or explaining it with other object or idea.

When someone does something sweet or thoughtful, their friend might say, “Aren’t you a peach!” They’re not saying that person is a literal peach. They’re complimenting their kindness by comparing it to a super sweet fruit. It creates a more vivid picture and can be more flattering than saying, “That was so nice of you.”

Metaphors also lend a more conversational tone. You wouldn’t find metaphors in professional documentation because it’s supposed to be authoritative and serious. Metaphors make a conversation less serious by making lighthearted or silly comparisons.

How to Write Metaphors

Anyone can write or create metaphors by keeping these three tips in mind.

1. For Visual Help: The Extended Metaphor

Extended metaphors last longer than a single sentence or phrase. They often appear when someone is trying to make their anxiety clear to someone else or raise the tension in a story.

Example: “You will never do that again,” she roared, swiping at him until there was enough space for her to leap on her prey. The woman isn’t literally a predator animal like a panther or bear, but the metaphor makes her anger seem stronger or more powerful by rooting it in an animalistic sense of survival.

2. For Humor: The Mixed Metaphor

You can also write a mixed metaphor to lighten a situation or wield your sense of humor in a story. They take readers by surprise, which might be exactly what a scene calls for.

Example: “This isn’t going to be easy,” Anthony said. “You know what they say,” Irvin replied, “when the rubber meets the road, we have to bite a bullet.” Anthony laughed. “That’s literally not what anyone says.” “Whatever—you know what I mean.”

3. For Practice: The Dead Metaphor

Writers consider any overused metaphor a dead metaphor. The idea is to avoid using them because creating something new is more interesting. It’s also a sign that you’re a more skilled writer.

Examples: When the ghost appeared, Amy’s face turned snow white. “Stop repeating yourself,” he said. “You’re a broken record.” Xander would rather kick the bucket than take Friday’s exams.

Why Are Metaphors Important?

Why use metaphors at all? I’d guess you’re already unknowingly putting them in your stories, but let’s talk about a few reasons why many writers use them on purpose.

Metaphors Engage the Senses

If someone says talking with their boss is like voluntarily bashing their head into a wall, you can feel the pain in your head and the groaning urger to do anything other than that. It’s more descriptive than saying someone hates talking to their boss, so it’s more engaging.

Remember, metaphors aren’t the only way to write with your primary senses. You shouldn’t rely on metaphors to do all of your descriptions. However, they’re helpful when you want to switch up your narrative style occasionally.

Metaphors Replace Similies

It’s easy to confuse similies and metaphors, but they’re two very different narrative tools that can make your stories better. Describing things in numerous ways demonstrates your expert control of your craft.

Similies compare two things using “like” or “as.” Metaphors claim something as another thing without those words.

Examples: Simile: When I kissed her, her heart beat as loud as a drum. Metaphor: When I kissed her, the drumbeat of her heart filled my ears. Simile: The kids act like crazed animals once family game night gets competitive. Metaphor: Our house turns into a zoo when family game night gets competitive. Simile: His presence in my life is like a light in the darkness. Metaphor: He’s a light in the dark.

Practice Using Metaphors

Anyone can write using metaphors and make their stories more engaging or descriptive. Sometimes you might also write a metaphor that your readers don’t understand.

That’s okay. It happens all the time.

The point is for your metaphors to make sense to you and serve a descriptive purpose in a sentence or scene. Avoid the overused ones and you’ll become an expert in no time.

#writing metaphors #metaphors #writing tips #writing advice #similies #writeblr #writers of tumblr

105 notes · View notes

cowboycakes · 1 year

Note

Hey dude! You know I gotta ask about our boy Johnny :D I'd love to see what you have for letters ADEZ. Please & thank you!

JULIEN!! i would love to write for our boy Johnny ♡ i hope these silly headcanons amuse you

★ DIRTY HEADCANONS WITH JOHNNY JOESTAR ★

MINORS DNI (18+)

warnings: johnny uses/rides a dildo. sub johnny. penetration/masturbation. masochism. praise kink. crying/dacryphilia (as always.) spanking. rough(ish) sex. use of crops. leaving hickies/marks. mentions of - finger sucking, nipple play, bondage, biting, oral, gags. little bit of gyjo in the first headcanon.

wc: 650

dirty a-z headcanons list

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

Inspired by this nsfw johnny art on twitter bc it's been on my mind for fucking weeks. He's got a vivid imagination and a bad habit of thinking up dirty shit in his head. He doesn't stop his mind from wandering, either, even when he isn't alone (i.e., in public, sleeping in a tent next to Gyro, etc.) Then he'll get all embarrassed when he realizes he's hard because of it. When he does get alone, he'll sometimes play out little fantasies. He loves to involve his kinks and fetishes or pretending his giant dildo is Gyro's cock. He always starts things out slow, dedicating ample time to lubing himself up with his fingers and teasing his hole with the head of his toy. Sometimes he'll try it laying down while his legs are spread as far as he can get them, sometimes he'll try to ride on it. Either way, he gets super vocal from the second he shoves it in, panting and whining while he ruts his hips down onto his toy desperately. He'll moan into his own hand or suck on his own fingers when it all gets to be a bit much and no one is there to tell him how good he's doing :(

D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)

He's a brat who turns into a slobbering, whining, submissive little bitch by the end of it. My evidence? ↓

gif creds

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

This is me acknowledging his canon fetish... and now I'm going to ignore it. Here's a list of Johnny kinks: Loooves praise and has a hard time admitting it. Needs you to tell him how pretty he is and how amazing he feels. Ropes and bondage. Likes to be tied up and have his mouth fucked nice n rough. Likes to wear gags or have something covering/inside of his mouth while he gets railed. He's a little masochist. Spank him. Bend him over your lap and put a crop to his ass 'til he cries cause it hurts so good. Whines and cries a lot, but that's a good sign. Also, I think Johnny is less experienced than people make him out to be. He gets nervous trying new things but ends up enjoying it more than he thought he would.

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)

Here's another list... Neck/ears: Joni fucking melts when you lick his neck and nibble on his ears. Whispering in his ear or breathing on his neck gives him chills and makes him wanna nuzzle into you a bit. Nipples: Swirl your tongue on his nipples and he's hard instantly. Likes you to keep pinching and playing with them while you two fuck. Great way to make him whimper. Tummy: I've said this before but Johnny loves tummy kisses, especially in the lower, softer part of his stomach. Gives him butterflies. Thighs: This is an area where he wants you to leave marks. When you give him hickies on his inner thighs, he'll stare at them and trace over them with his fingers for days (and look at them while he jerks off.) The reminder makes him horny. Ass: Spank it. Pinch it. Bite it. Run your hand over it gently. It's perfect, and he knows it. So pay attention to it, dammit!

i apologize for all of the self indulgent bullshit i just put in here. hope everyone can forgive me <3333

#jojos thirsty adventure #johnny <3 #johnny joestar x reader #johnny joestar smut #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo smut #jjba smut #sbr x reader #sbr smut #steel ball run smut #jojo's bizarre adventure smut #johnny joestar x you #johnny x reader #johnny joestar headcanons #tw: praise kink #tw: masochism #tw: dacryphilia

116 notes · View notes

cocrante · 2 months

Text

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

nda. I just realized now how silly it is that Will doesn't own a weapon or know how to fight. I mean, come on ahah But when I was writing the fanfiction, the idea of Will not knowing how to use a sword and asking Nico for help seemed cute to me c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 9]

THE DAUGHTER OF ATHENA'S BRAIN KICKED INTO GEAR from the first words spoken by Piper. Quickly, she reasoned on the simplest way to get them together—in a place discreet enough and away from the eyes of others. She then spoke to Piper about it, as she was the one who knew the most about it. "It might work" smiled the daughter of Aphrodite. Jason watched her, curious about what the two girls were whispering about. Percy also noticed a strange exchange of words between the two girls, laughing about something.

"What are they up to?" whispered the son of Poseidon to Jason. The boy shrugged, he didn't know either.

"So we're in agreement" Annabeth concluded, getting a nod of approval from Piper, excited to put into action the plan suggested by her friend. 'What were you talking about?' Jason then asked. Piper shook her head, spreading a conspiratorial smile. "You'll see" the girl replied. Percy also questioned Annabeth about it, but she chose to remain vague, further confusing the boy.

At the end of the evening, the boys were sent back to their respective cabins. Will bid farewell to Nico, who gladly responded "See you tomorrow"

"See you tomorrow!" Will replied.

The two went in opposite directions, both wishing it was already tomorrow.

The son of Hades returned to his deserted and lonely cabin, thinking about how many times he had promised to renovate it, yet it remained unchanged from when he had abandoned it years ago. The boy changed clothes and laid down on his bed. He couldn't sleep that night, too focused on reflecting on the day that had just passed—the empty feeling in his stomach on the boat and, above all, how normal the son of Apollo made him feel. He tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to push away those thoughts.

Even in Cabin 7, the son of Apollo couldn't easily fall asleep, engaged in reflection on the day spent with that dark and lonely boy. He particularly remembered the afternoon spent together in the infirmary, the conversation they had, and the few things Nico had revealed to him. Will was certain that few, or perhaps no one else, knew about it, and this made him even happier to have managed to enter – for a few moments – into his world. The son of Apollo was sincere that day in the infirmary: he genuinely wanted to get to know Nico di Angelo, along with all his dark shades. Slowly, he managed to fall asleep, letting the vivid thoughts of the day just passed spread through his mind.

The next morning didn't keep waiting. Will woke up early, like every morning. He stared into space for a moment before getting up, heading towards the bathroom and giving the others a few more minutes to sleep. Passing by the mirror, he almost had a shock, seeing dark circles around his beautiful blue eyes. The son of Apollo ran a hand over his face, unable to believe what he saw. He sighed, still in disbelief, entering the shower stall for a refreshing bath. He emerged about fifteen minutes later, making way for another cabin member. He greeted the newly awakened guys, waiting for everyone to be ready before assigning the day's work shifts and leaving the cabin to go to the dining hall. When everyone was present, Will began to speak, giving instructions to each cabin member. "Clear on everything?" the son of Apollo asked, and once he got everyone's consent, he led the group out towards the dining hall.

The dining hall was almost full; some kids from the Hermes cabin were still missing, apparently taking it easy. Nico was already awake, which surprised the son of Apollo, knowing his daily rituals. Two boys and two girls were keeping him company that morning, chatting animatedly about something; Nico seemed not to care much.

Will decided to let it go and focus on what he had on the table, eating as much as he could to be prepared. He didn't want to disappoint at the arena.

Meanwhile, at the Hades table, the four guys took turns talking, not giving Nico a moment to speak. Annabeth, with her fast-paced speech, was explaining the strategy she had implemented to capture the rival team's flag. "We're counting on you!" she concluded her monologue, with the other demigods nodding in unison.

"I didn't say I would accept" Nico replied calmly, focusing more on his plate than the guys in front of him.

"But you have to accept" Piper said, confident that with a little bit of charming persuasion, she could get him to participate. Nico raised an eyebrow, looking her in the face. "I'll think about it" he finally said, Piper thought that was still a small victory. Annabeth, however, was not satisfied; she wanted him on her side, knowing that with him in the game, the rival members wouldn't stand a chance of getting close to the flag.

"Nico, we need you on our team" Percy intervened. The son of Hades looked at him, pondering the response. Annabeth had explained to him roughly what the plan involved, and it was indeed a great plan. So far, he had gathered members from the Hermes cabin and Nemesis kids, hoping to talk to the Apollo cabin as well, trusting they hadn't been taken already. Together with Nico, they would practically have victory in their hands, but the son of Hades wasn't sure if he wanted to participate in the games. He simply wasn't in the mood, and furthermore, the idea of being glued to the flag while others were in the field annoyed him.

"I accept, but only on one condition" he pointed the fork at Annabeth, drawing the attention of the four. "I come into the field with you" he looked at each one seriously, challenging them with his gaze to oppose him. No one at the table tried to say anything; everyone knew how crucial his contribution was.

"You would be more useful guarding the flag" Annabeth replied, holding his gaze.

"Why?" Nico asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Athena's daughter bit her lip, unable to truly explain why.

"Because you're terrifying" Percy blurted out. Nico stared at him, unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, well, everyone knows you can summon zombies, which is fantastic for us and all. You'd keep the rival team away from the flag" Jason explained, hoping to have won him over at least a bit. The son of Hades didn't respond, those antics didn't work on him. He hinted at a laugh, looking at him impassively as if to say:—have you mistaken me for a child of Aphrodite? But he sighed, lowering his head, certain that if he didn't accept, they would pester him until the end of his days. "Okay, fine" he replied with fake enthusiasm. "I'll be the nursemaid to your stupid flag" he said, raising his gaze. "Who will keep me company?"

The guys timidly looked at each other, expressing in a silent question:—who volunteers for the good of the group? Nico was still staring at them, waiting for an answer. "So?" he pressed. "Will" Annabeth quickly replied. "From the Apollo cabin" Piper specified.

The son of Hades clicked his tongue, decidedly struck by that name. "He's a healer, he can't participate" Nico replied, silencing the group. "Yes, he can" Annabeth retorted. "Nowhere does it say he can't participate" she continued. "Anyone can be chosen to enter the game" she added. Nico found himself nodding, having to admit she was right. In a game without rules, anything was allowed, even choosing the participants. However, a spontaneous question arose: "But why?" he asked, mellifluous. "Well, because—" Annabeth began, even though she didn't really have an answer to that question. "Because he—" Jason tried, trying to give Annabeth a bit more time to think. "Because he has never played!" Piper answered, infusing a bit more of her enchanting language. For Nico, that made enough sense, it would be rather pointless to put him in the field. The son of Hades nodded, although not entirely convinced. He knew Annabeth's cunning—he was sure there was more beneath the surface.

"Is that all?" Nico asked, eager to leave the table.

"Yes" Annabeth replied.

"Good" he said, getting up and waving to the four, heading towards the arena.

The arena was not crowded yet—only two children of Ares were trying out new training techniques. Nico headed towards the storage room where training dummies were kept. Many of them were completely crumpled and missing some limbs, fortunately, there were still some intact, albeit with a few tears. He brought out a couple, sure that he would have to start from the basics, like drawing a sword and the position to take in a possible frontal encounter. The son of Hades carved out a square of the field entirely for him and Will, who would join him shortly. While waiting for his friend, he watched the Ares kids duel and grunt, just to attract attention.

About ten minutes later, the son of Apollo arrived, out of breath. He explained that he had a chat with Annabeth. Nico wasn't so surprised. "I'm in" he told him, recovering from the run. "Okay" sighed the son of Hades, he had hoped until the last moment that he wouldn't agree to participate in the flag hunt. "But that means we should work even harder!" he said seriously, getting a nod. "Good" he crossed his arms over his chest. "First, you need a sword" he said. "Do you have one?" he asked, although it seemed more like a rhetorical question since it was evident he didn't have any. The son of Apollo shrugged, as if to show him he had nothing. "Okay" Nico sighed, leading him to the armory. "Try a few" he suggested. "Use whichever one feels right for you" he added. Will nodded, entering the armory, looking around a bit. It was really full of weapons, there was an embarrassment of choices. The son of Apollo looked around, scanning for the one that attracted him the most. Then he saw one that seemed quite interesting. He picked it up, examining it in all its beauty. It was a beautiful double-edged bronze sword, the hilt in golden metal with a steel grip rich in details. He tried it out, swinging it, finding it comfortable and well-balanced. "I think I found it!" he finally said, leaving the armory, with Nico outside waiting for him. The guy gave a quick glance at the found weapon—it seemed to have been designed especially for him.

Together, they returned to the slowly filling arena. Nico initially explained the theory in fairly basic terms. He told him that the Greeks didn't use scabbards, and therefore, if he continued to practice and bring it into battle, he would have to tie it to his belt. He then showed how to unsheathe the sword, with which hand, what position to hold, and with which foot to advance to balance the weight. He gave a general overview of the most used and classic combat techniques. "Today we'll focus on these" he told him.

"Maybe we'll raising the game later" Nico suggested, quite confident that he would learn quickly. Will attentively followed everything Nico said, occasionally interrupting when something wasn't clear, and the son of Hades patiently explained it to him again.

They then started practicing on the dummy, Will carefully observing Nico's moves as he slowly struck the target. He followed the sword's movements, the way it bent and hit a part of the dummy. Will was enchanted by his motions.

Then it was the turn of the son of Apollo to strike, following the pace set by Nico and hitting it as he had shown him a little earlier. Nico would tell him which part of the body to strike, and Will skillfully demonstrated the moves.

"Very good" complimented Nico. "You're just still slow" he commented. Will could only nod; indeed, he was quite slow, but he wasn't used to holding a sword.

The two continued practicing, and slowly Will began to gain confidence, showing more speed in his attacks.

"Do you feel like trying defense?" Nico asked. The son of Apollo stared at him, feeling the muscles in his arms on fire; by now, the sword that had initially seemed so light had become a burden, but he nodded. "Of course!" he exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his other hand.

As with the attack, Nico gave him a quick overview. There weren't as many moves as in the attacks. "You have to anticipate the opponent's moves before he even makes them," he explained, trying to make it as simple as possible. "Defense can be anything, any movement" he continued. "The important thing is that you don't get hit" he concluded. Will nodded at every word, although he was still quite confused about it, and Nico, noticing his expression, reassured him: "With practice, everything will become clearer to you."

They started with slow movements, trying a brief bout. Will attacked with the moves Nico had explained a little earlier, and Nico defended himself, showing him how to move. They were all fairly simple movements, no sidesteps or illusory patterns; Nico wanted to make it as straightforward as possible for him. Later, it was Will's turn, and he had understood how to handle it. He defended himself excellently, although it was a slow-motion fight, both demigods were satisfied with the result.

"I want to do it faster" Will gasped, but he wanted to give it a try. "Are you sure?" Nico asked, concerned that he might not be up for it. "Yes" the determined boy said. Nico shrugged, wanting to accommodate him.

They distanced themselves a bit, studying each other. Nico was the first to attack, revealing his cards. Will blocked the blow well, then rotated the sword to make room and struck him from the side. Nico dodged and delivered another blow, making him step back. Will blocked again, sidestepping and momentarily throwing off Nico's balance, who was pleasantly surprised. They exchanged various blows with excellent parries.

"You need to get closer" Nico corrected him, adjusting his parry. "Like this?" Will asked, pushing forward, just a few inches from his face. "Yes" Nico replied, keeping his gaze fixed on him. "Use your shoulder as leverage, push with your hips" he explained, and Will complied. "You have to make me step back, so I slide to the side" he explained, unable to look away from those blue eyes. Will nodded, pushing the sword that crossed Nico's, making him slide to the side. Taking advantage of his imbalance, Will pointed the sword at him. Nico conceded, lowering his sword with a finger. "Excellent job, Solace" he complimented, sheathing the Stygian iron. "But we need to work on technique and movements" he scrutinized him from bottom to top. "But for a first time, it went well" he commented, showing a hint of a smile. Will responded by curving his lips. "You think so?"

"You did pretty good" Nico shrugged, rearranging the dummies with Will's help.

The son of Apollo was quite satisfied with the training. He knew he had to practice even more, and if he were in a real duel, he certainly wouldn't come out unscathed. Still, for now, he was content with the result.

After the training, they sat under the shade of a tree, recovering from the long morning of parrying and attacking each other. Nico made some observations, such as the way Will held his feet or the elbow, with Will defending himself, saying it was because he used the bow. "You still have to keep it closer to your body" Nico replied, keeping his gaze ahead. Will just nodded.

The two demigods remained silent for a few minutes, savoring the tranquility of the moment, enveloped only by the typical sounds of the camp. "How did you learn?" Will asked after a while, keeping his eyes on the arena, where another group of guys was training. Nico didn't respond immediately—he kept staring ahead, fixing his gaze on an indistinct point on the field, weighing whether to bring up the memories or not. "When you're a child of Hades and wander the world alone, you don't have much choice" he lowered his gaze to the ground. "You either learn quickly, or you die" he said bluntly. "Then Minos helped me" he briefly recounted that time of wandering outside the camp, searching for Bianca's soul and a way to bring her back to life. Will remained silent, trying to put himself in the boy's shoes. "How did you meet him?" he asked, unable to avoid a hint of curiosity. Nico chuckled, shrugging. "At my father's palace" he turned to look him in the eyes. "After I escaped into the forest, my father opened a passage underground for me" he smiled at the memory. Stated like that, it almost seemed like a normal thing, but at the time, he was terrified. Ghosts and skeletal hands dragged him towards a dark pit carved into the rock. When he fell inside, the last thing he saw was the dazzling moon, then the rock closed and he found himself in front of his father. Will tried to sustain that gaze—he knew the story didn't end there, and Nico probably didn't want to tell him more to avoid scaring him.

"Why didn't you come back to the camp?" Will asked, taking advantage of the moment to have him tell what he had sealed inside. Nico curled his lips, staring at Will's face, which turned slightly reddish. "Have you ever felt out of place? Like you were defective or something?" he asked, playing with the skull-shaped ring around his finger. Will slightly parted his lips, he felt a bit like that when he compared himself to his siblings, but he had never thought of running away because of it. Then he thought about it: at least he had someone to vent his frustrations to, but who did Nico have?

The son of Hades looked ahead again, with his eyes slightly lowered. "It happens not to feel at home anywhere, with people staring at you strangely for what you are" he said, now a slave to his memories. "Sometimes the only right thing to do is to leave, especially if you have no one waiting for you. You don't have the problem of making them miss you" he confessed, and Will was definitely certain that no one else had heard those words except him. "But now you're with people who care about you" he turned his body completely, desperately seeking his eyes. "Me, for example" he exclaimed seriously, feeling his cheeks warm up a bit at that moment. Nico abruptly raised his eyes, fixing Will with an inquisitive look and finally responding with a sincere smile.

[CONTENTS]

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16

#🖇️ : fanfiction #i start over with you ☀️☠️#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #riordanverse #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fanfiction #camp halfblood

7 notes · View notes

soleilnomoon · 2 years

Note

Can I request Usopp X reader >> they wake up in bed together after a night of drinking. The details I leave to your wonderful imagination. kiss kiss fall in love <3

ꕤ for u, my best friend, love of my life, light of my world, etc. etc. etc. ofc bitch, you already know ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა ꕤ sry this took so long but yk me, i can't do fluff to save my life.

introspect ; usopp x reader.

1.8k words, afab reader (no pronouns), alcohol mention, angst-lite, a lil fluff, some nsfw (idk cute shit like a handjob or nudity or smth); usopp is too chicken to confess, but who isn't these days

the haziness of the night before never leaves you, weighing you down, stubbornly pinning you to the mattress, even as you wake up in the middle of the afternoon the following day. yawning loudly, you attempt to get up, but something really is preventing you from getting up properly; an arm, actually. a very familiar, toned, brown arm is wrapped around you securely, almost as if this is a regular occurrence between you two, when you know for a fact it is not. blinking rapidly, you try to remember the how's and the whys of last night.

as you scrunch your nose, concentration taking away your self-preservation, you hardly notice him stir beside you.

“what time is it?” he asks sleepily, sliding closer, his body seeking out your warmth even underneath the thick blanket. memories flash in your mind as you close your eyes again, swallowing hard, the taste of bourbon still on your tongue—how much did you even drink? you’re not even sure anymore. a throbbing headache reminds you to find something to remedy the pain soon. when his fingers curl around your waist, you shudder involuntarily. words stick to the back of your throat, and you struggle to breathe—his presence suddenly commanding all of your attention. you still haven’t opened your eyes; if you do, you’ll have to face him and you don’t want to deal with that just yet.

it takes you a minute, but you do finally respond to his question. “late, probably,” you say softly, voice a little hoarse—possibly from overuse, but the party wasn’t that wild, was it? when it doesn’t seem like he’s going to move away anytime soon, you finally reopen your eyes and stare at him. he looks quite peaceful, sleeping like that; his thick, curly hair tempts you, but you keep your hands to yourself. maybe it got too hot in the middle of the night and you just happened to take your clothes off and also just happened to end up in his bed.

peeking underneath the blanket only confirms your theory; it’s silly, you know that, but you don’t want to think about the ramifications of anything other than that being the absolute truth of the matter.

“you’re heavy, usopp, move.” you hope your playful demeanor might lighten things up, hope that you didn’t actually cross that line with your best friend, hope that maybe—just maybe—you had more sense than to act on whatever foolish delusions you’ve convinced yourself are somehow tied to hypothetical feelings—ones that are less platonic and more romantic. a panic settles once you’re more cognizant. because… what if someone comes in? what if they see the two of you in bed like this? what will you do then?

almost sensing your unease, he blinks himself awake, frowning a bit. it feels early, but he vaguely remembers a soft voice telling him otherwise. there’s an incessant pounding inside his head, eyes burning as he tries to swim through the fog of his hangover. “what a long dream,” he mumbles out loud, rolling onto his back, arm releasing you from its semi-oppressive hold. he stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly as he pieces together bits and pieces of said dream.

he remembers drinking with you and the others, remembers eating and laughing—strange, it was such a vivid dream, it feels real. and when he feels you shift beside him, everything rushes back to him all at once.

for some reason luffy thought it was a good idea to have everyone play a drinking game. a few games later, with tears in your eyes from laughing for several minutes, you stumble into usopp and he helps you walk. both of you tease and joke with one another, ignoring the final dregs of the party. you suggest hiding out in his room, and he agrees — closely following after you to grab snacks and something to drink. he also remembers feeling hotter than normal, sweat pooling on his temples, barely thinking as he pulls his shirt off, frowning only when he realizes that he still isn’t cooling off.

you’re busy eating a piece of fruit, the juice spilling down your hand and onto your chin; your body sways as you dance to whatever nonexistent song you think is playing at the moment. he watches, entranced with your movements—fluid, like water, and just as unpredictable. you pause, feeling his gaze—a gentle caress, one that startles you, puts you on edge, giving you a rush that feels every bit exhilarating as it does forbidden.

a coy smile tugs hopelessly on your lips.

“want some?” you offer, holding up the small bowl in your hand; sharing comes second nature to you, and besides, he looks a little thirsty.

he folds his arms against his chest, seeming to consider your request—you eat another piece of mango in the meantime and hop onto his bed. “don’t wait too long,” your tongue glides along the pad of your thumb, lapping up the residual juice, “i’ll end up eating everything by myself.” you won’t, obviously; you’ve already decided to set aside half for him, but you like messing around with him—especially since he’s giving you such a priceless expression, one that’s equal parts surprise and equal parts amusement.

simply put: you fascinate him—always have, in a way that no one else has. cowardice feeds into his guilt, giving way to shame, and lastly paranoia.

if he tells you any of that, will you see him differently?

he’s always wondered, has wanted to confess for some time now; but whenever he gets a chance, something—or, someone rather—interrupts and he loses his nerve. zoro’s tried giving him advice, but that ended disastrously; brook suggested he write a song, but he’s not lyrically inclined and is pretty tone-deaf.

it’s put him at a standstill, one that’s slowly driving him crazy, but maybe a bit of liquid courage will do the trick; at least, that’s what he told himself earlier.

so he drank and drank, and now he’s here in his room with you, contemplating like the fool he is. you can tell he’s stuck in his head, so you decide to take charge. sliding off of the bed, light on your feet, you reach him in a few quick strides.

“open up,” you command softly, and so he does—which surprises him, he’s never been one to just do things like that, but with the way you’re looking at him, it’s hard to resist. you feed him a piece of mango, his lips wrapping around the tips of your fingers, your eyelids lowering at the sight. you should pull away, but you like the way his tongue feels—smooth, a welcomed distraction to the thoughts bouncing around your head. he releases them with a soft pop! chewing thoughtfully, letting out tiny groans of approval, something that causes a flush to wrap around you

he knows there’s no reason for him to do any of that, but he can’t help it. your cheeks are on fire as you head back to the bed, finishing the rest of the bowl by yourself. you’re too ashamed, how could you look at him when that simple action turned you on more than you care to acknowledge. he’s your best friend, you will never, ever cross that line; you swore to yourself—and to him—years ago. because the one time you wanted to, he found every excuse in the world to avoid you.

rejection fuels your desire to preserve your friendship with him.

but you can only handle so much.

so when you get up and announce that you’re leaving to wash your hands, he stops you; adrenaline pumps through him, not wanting to lose this chance. his lips part slightly, the words stumbling in his mouth, refusing to come out. you raise a brow at him, confused—he’s never had an issue expressing himself with you before, so why now? letting out a short sigh, he tries again; his fingers grab your chin, a little more roughly than you’re used to, and he kisses you.

it’s a slow, tentative kiss at first; he takes his time exploring, tongue licking at your bottom lip, causing you to open your mouth for him. your tongues meeting somewhere in the middle; it’s clumsy, but soon you both fall into a rhythm, his hands tangling in your hair while yours run up his chest. something blossoms within you—awareness maybe? you’re not sure, but you’re determined to follow your desire no matter where it takes you.

his hands drift lower, cupping your ass, squeezing playfully as you press against him, a sigh on your tongue as the kiss transforms again. you become greedy, your mouth demanding as you give him feverish tongue kisses—drunk off of his cute reactions, liking the way his bulge is more than evident, your hand sliding into his shorts. your hand wraps around his length, you pump it up and down a few times, earning an audible moan from him. and when he holds you tightly, it’s almost as if he’s afraid to let you go—like he’ll never be able to hold you again.

it gets fuzzy after that; he lets out a quiet groan, realizing that it might not have been a dream at all. you brush hair away from your face and sit up, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “can i borrow a shirt?” you vaguely remember spilling something on your dress last night; you were just too drunk to deal with it and crumbled the dress in a ball, tossing it to a corner like you were playing a game. when usopp doesn’t move, you turn and lean over, face hovering over his. “hellooo, earth to usopp,” you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand in annoyance, drawing a laugh out of you.

“do you…,” he starts, brown eyes landing on yours, a solemn expression on his face, “want to talk about it?”

you bite your lip as you think it over. “not really, no.” because talking about it will just make things worse in your opinion. “do you want to talk about it?”

the question takes him by surprise, and while a part of him does want to broach the subject, he finds it easier to just ignore it altogether. you should cover up, but what’s the point; he’s already seen you partially naked on many occasions, just not like this. he says nothing and instead brings a hand to play with your hair a bit, your curls coiling around his finger. it’s nothing serious, nothing he hasn’t done before; so there’s no reason for you to brush your lips against his, no reason for you to kiss him that gently, no reason for your heart to beat wildly when he pulls you back for another.

but you do all of that and when your face burns too much for your liking, you boldly declare that you’re going to lounge around on his bed all day, hoping to diffuse whatever tension there is between you. he laughs and laughs, thinking it’s the funniest thing you’ve said all week, and when your embarrassment finally dies down, you laugh too—feeling much lighter than you have before.

#one piece imagine #one piece smut #god usopp #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #usopp x y/n #usopp x reader #fic request #usopp should be more popular this fandom is w e i r d #not a big fan of friends 2 lovers but for usopp i make an exception #usopp smut

297 notes · View notes

softquietsteadylove · 2 days

Note

I fell asleep making an ask midway... It was a vow au prompt request and I think I was just editing when I suddenly time traveled to now. I digress my request was:

Thena, half-awake smells breakfast. Her dream turns into an echo of a memory with Gil. Once she awoke, she tried to look for Gil— he was not in the kitchen nor dining room. She had left her food in search for him, wanting answers and hoping he hasn't left for work. Only for her to find out that he just got out of the shower. A particular droplet traces down to his hand. The very hand holding the small towel together as it held for its dear life around his waist.

The dream and memory could be anything, likewise with Gil's reaction. Hope this wasn't a duplicate...

- 🃏

The smell of eggs and aromatics pulled her from sleep. Half in a dream and half in her mind, she thought of coming out of a room. Everything was bathed in sunlight and then there was Gil. Gil standing at the stove, cracking eggs into chili oil with miso soup and fresh fruit waiting. Gil making coffee while she slept, and then as she slinked out wearing his shirt. Gil turning around in nothing but a white t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair mussed after their first night together-

Thena jolted in bed as she woke completely. She'd been experiencing it quite often as of late; she would be hovering on the edge of sleep, stuck in a very vivid dream until she was plunged into wakefulness. It was always jarring, always so vivid she could swear it engaged her senses. And then she would wake up not knowing what was a dream and what was real.

She had vaguely expressed these notions to Gil, although admittedly lacking some of the more vivid details. He had asked if she wanted to see her doctors again, but she declined. She could figure it out on her own, for the time being. And if the dreams got any more tactile, she wasn't sure if she would ever want to go back to the hospital to complain that kissing her husband in her dreams was too realistic.

Thena turned over in her bed to look at the clock. She was growing somewhat tired of the guest bed she now called her own. It was a fine bed, but it was feeling less and less comfortable the longer she spent in it. She also hadn't mentioned that to Gil either.

The therapist at the hospital did say that some separation at first might create a healthy boundary for them.

She dragged herself out of bed, swinging her legs over the side and touching her toes down first. She kept expecting a soft, white shag carpet, but the guest room had hardwood floors and a thinner rug under the bed. Nonetheless, she stood to brave the rest of the apartment.

The smell was real--Gil was making breakfast. Or it was already made, perhaps. Thena poked her head out, surveying the area. It was still early, she didn't think he would be at work already, but he wasn't anywhere to be found either.

She slipped from the guest room, across the opening to the living room and foyer to the kitchen. Her plate was set out for her, on the counter with a steaming hot cup of coffee. Of course he even set out a proper place mat and everything.

Thena rose onto her toes to sit in the high kitchen stool. The stove was off and the coffee was being kept warm; if he wasn't already at work then he was getting ready and about to leave. Part of her was glad she could catch him before he left for the day.

It was one of those silly little things, but she really did enjoy getting to send him off before they spent the bulk of their day apart.

The man made great eggs. She happily cut into them with her fork, admiring the sheen of the red oil slipping off and around the pristine white and jiggly egg yolk. Before Gil, she hadn't bee addicted to chili oil. Now it seemed they put it on everything they ate.

The coffee was also perfect, of course. She looked around again. The solitude of eating alone was also beginning to wear on her. As much as she enjoyed eating in silence, she would take comfortably listening to Gil chewing over the sound of the fridge humming.

"Hey, you're up."

Thena looked over at him, eyes wide and eyebrows raising as high as they could go.

"Sorry hon, I was going to have breakfast with you," he mumbled as he puttered around, depositing a kiss on her cheek before moving to the fridge to retrieve his lunch. "But I remembered kind of late that we've got a big custom order coming in. I should get in a little early to get a head start on things."

Thena just watched numbly as he double checked that the stove was off while also pouring himself a cup of coffee. He really was in a rush, letting little droplets slosh onto the counter.

"Ah!" he hissed as some of it splashed on him. He wiped at it with just the corner of his towel. "I'm sorry I can't sit with you, hon, but after I'm done we can--Thena?"

She just stared.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

Her eyes darted down and then up helpless. Her jaw was hanging open as if she were a teenager first discovering her own hormones. The splash of coffee aside, Gil wasn't even properly dried off from the shower, a few droplets escaping his hair and trailing down his skin.

The thick muscles he had glistened and jiggled, soft in some places and then sharply angled in others. His free hand was holding the towel around his hips since he hadn't grabbed the full size one but a midsize towel.

Now that she thought about it, she was quite sure she was always telling him that the big towels were on the bottom in the bathroom shelves (from smallest to biggest in descending order, of course). And now he was just a man, damp and half naked in his own kitchen. She could even see the dark hair collecting under his naval. She did try not to eye the towel too perversely.

"Shit!" Gil swore, just now remembering the circumstances of their situation. He pulled the towel more around his front and used his free hand for modesty's sake, pressing against the heavy cotton. "Sorry, hon, I wasn't thinking!"

Thena looked away graciously as her husband flustered as if he had committed some heinous crime. She wasn't sure what he had to be so embarrassed about. It was his home, and they were technically married. "It's okay, Gil."

"No, I'm sorry Thena, this isn't-" he sighed, reflexively moving to run his fingers through his hair before moving the hand to shield any potential exposure again. "I shouldn't-"

"It's fine," she repeated, feeling warmth rise in her face. Somewhere in her mind, the objective, factual knowledge that she and Gil were married connected with the feelings that she still harboured for him, whether her memories came back or not.

She knew he was attractive. She was so attracted to him that she had, in fact, married him. But until now she hadn't exactly had evidence of anything quite so...visceral. Her mind replayed the water slipping down his back, over his muscles. The way he had swiped at the coffee on his side and she'd gotten a peek of...something.

The elephant in the room, so to speak.

Gil cleared his throat, flushed quite red and shuffling backwards towards their bedroom. "Sorry, you finish your breakfast. I'll get dressed. We can talk about it later, if you want."

She just blinked at him, still captivated by the flex of his bare arms and the contrast of muscle and tummy under his thick pectorals. She wasn't fully gawping at him like a fish anymore but her mouth was still open. Her hand attempted to bring her fork back to her mouth, but all it did was float blindly in front of her until Gil disappeared from sight.

Only once he was gone did she realise what she had been doing. Poor Gil, of course he felt sheepish about it. She still didn't blame him for not thinking of it--he wasn't exposing himself to a stranger. But she did have to realise that she was indeed married to that.

It wasn't as if she hadn't considered it at all, of course--what their sex life had been like. The therapists and doctors had advised against intimacy until she felt ready and left it at that. Gil, the sweetheart that he was, hadn't brought up anything of the sort. The guest room was set up for her by the time she got home, her clothes in the closet and everything.

They had just barely become accustomed to a light kiss here and there. Public displays of affection still were not her strong suit. Affection in general, perhaps. She liked it, though--greeting him with a little kiss when he picked her up or sending him off to work with one.

Now all she could think about was that towel. She knew he was muscular. It was visible no matter his state of dress. But the muscles in his back, and his shoulders, and his arms. They were substantial; she felt as if she knew what it was like to hold them in her palms just by looking at them. What would it feel like to sink her nails into his back muscles...?

The clatter of her fork falling startled her. She rushed to pick it up, feeling embarrassed as if some unseen force were there to witness her lusting after the man she had already married. It was pointless to fantasize about things within her grasp.

Grasp.

"Thena?"

She nearly dropped the fork again but rushed to stand. A smile fixed itself on her face as she looked at Gil, now properly dressed for work with his hair at least somewhat brushed. "Hey."

"Hey," he uttered quietly, his whole body shrunken in on itself like a contrite child. He shuffled over to her, "sorry, again, for...you okay?"

She smiled more genuinely, dropping her fork on the counter again. Always so sweet, her husband. "Yes, Gil, there's nothing to fret over. I didn't see anything, if that's what concerns you."

That wasn't completely a lie, although maybe not the whole truth, either.

He blushed anyway, ruffling his freshly sorted hair. "Uh, well, I mean if you didn't--I should've realised."

Thena sighed through her nose, moving closer so she could stand on her toes and give him a little peck of a kiss. "I appreciate your concern, Gil. But I do not consider it a breach of my consent for you to walk around our home in whatever state you desire. Or need, I suppose, considering you're running late?"

The suggestion that he move on from the matter and resume his hurrying didn't work, though. He put his hand on her waist and gave her another soft - but still chaste - kiss. "This is more important."

She smiled, running her hands down his chest naturally as she lowered back to the heels of her feet. Her mind wandered to the image of said chest completely bare again. But she forced herself to remember the task at hand. "Consider it forgotten, if you like."

He finally seemed to relax a little as she cradled his hand between both of hers. "Okay, if you say so."

"I do," she confirmed for him before giving his hand a final pat. "Now, I believe you have to get to work?"

"Right, right," he sighed, kissing her one more time before dragging himself away. He grasped for his keys blindly. "I'll pick you up after I'm done?--groceries and then boba?"

She just nodded, waving back to him as he floated out the door. Gil always left like they were still in the midst of their honeymoon phase.

Thena looked back at her plate of remaining breakfast, then back at the door. She didn't feel she could focus on eating, after that. She wasn't sure if she would succeed in focusing on anything, if she were to be entirely honest with herself.

Really, though, she was married to a man like that, and she had no memory of it? It was a miracle she was still alive.

3 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 months

Note

i guess i read too much of your merman!suguru au asks that my brain got fried TTTT BUT IN A POSITIVE WAY!!!! 😭😭 it’s just that i have really vivid dreams and ankssjskndksnsks yesterday i got influenced because i dreamt of getting in a silly and goofy fight/challenge with gojo to court merman!suguru but! so i thought why not??? like, THIS SILLY STORY DOES?? MAKES SENSE??

maybe a silly au where reader and gojo, who come from different sides of the same coin (ig same job but different sides?? maybe they’re in different offices of the same job?? i really don’t know, i hope it actually makes sense) and then one day they meet this beautiful merman on the shore. this beautiful creature just sitting on a rock and doing his merman things (what does mermaids/mermen actually do?? maybe reading a slate that is their version of books, or resting to sunbathing a bit? prob also comb his hair? help my mind is swirling in the wrong direction AAAAA……) completely unbothered by their heart shaped stares because completely understandable. so it begins with a goofy courtship. i’m thinking about probably gojo being the first one to make a move? just driven by love and also a bit of spite towards reader. a stupid way to say “look! i’m making my move while you’re still overthinking it! take that!” and reader is just right behind the rock spying them because ‘this guy……….’ but the move gojo makes goes completely rejected? because who in their right mind would gift a merman octopus legs??? useless to say that gojo is absolutely shocked while reader is trying not to laugh. then goes reader, offering the beautiful mermen pearls directly fished from ostriches but they too get rejected!! which is a shock!! because they thought they were doing the right thing but at least. the reasoning could be something silly like ‘are you implying that the pearls i wear are shit?’ 🤨

……….i’m thinking about few silly tries and shenanigans that happen and amongst the many of them geto eventually warms up because . they’re dorks, both of them— but they’re actually very pretty and funny to keep around?? maybe i do not want them to go away?? and it starts subtly. first it comes in the form of hate against time, when geto starts to think that he hates just how brief the time together seems to be. how at every sunset, where the sun is lowering on a side and the moon is shining brightly on the other, he feels kind of annoyed at the thought to have to go back to the lonely underwater cave he calls his home. he really doesn’t want to wait the slow passage of another night that he doesn’t even get to see with his eyes because underwater everything is dark at all times so exactly what does it change? what’s the difference if not his inability to lie down and rest a bit?

then it comes in the form of actually finding their silly ways at courtship kind of….. cute? the three of them don’t even belong to the same reality, but gojo and reader actually put efforts in their gestures and words and that —he will never admit it in front of the two of them, but it actually warms his heart…….. and so one day, when gojo and reader less expect it, geto goes to the surface with a bouquet of corals? and different pieces of marine flora in it (or it could be even something kind of ugly like a bouquet of fishes that leaves both gojo and reader speechless because wtf is that…….) and boom. they find out that geto has accepted their courtship waaaaay before without them even realizing (geto purposefully said nothing to them) so they’ve spent the first weeks?? or a month?? of their relationship courting a merman that had already accepted their advances after all and they live all happily together. just a fluff ensemble sugu!centric because lately my mind refuses to work with other tropes… i just need to give that man the love he deserves 🙁🙁🙁

ANON???????? THIS IS SO FUCKING TASTY????

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SOME TIME TO ANSWER BUT U HAVEEEEE TO UNDERSTAND I EXPLODED WHEN I SAW IT IN MY INBOX C’MERE I’M GONNA SPIN U AROUND 🫂🫂🫂🫂

i don’t even know what to say tbh……. THIS IS SOOOO GOOD ANON I LOVE IT SM URE A LITTLE GENIUS….. sugucentric polycules are my favorite ever too he deserves ALL the love <333 AND MER!SUGUUU OUR BELOVED……… ok but fr tho i don’t think there’s anything i could add this is already perfect??? GOJO AND READER COMPETING FOR THE PRETTY MERMAN’S HEART……. both of them getting rejected 😭😭 I COULD SEE THIS SOOO VIVIDLY satoru gets slapped w sugu’s tail and he scowls at reader all offended bc he takes his pearls VERY seriously…. silly little fish man.

AND WAHHH THE SLOWBURN OF IT ALL….. sugu realizing he appreciates their company 🥺🥺🥺

first it comes in the form of hate against time, when geto starts to think that he hates just how brief the time together seems to be. how at every sunset, where the sun is lowering on a side and the moon is shining brightly on the other, he feels kind of annoyed at the thought to have to go back to the lonely underwater cave he calls his home. he really doesn’t want to wait the slow passage of another night that he doesn’t even get to see with his eyes because underwater everything is dark at all times so exactly what does it change?

anon r u perhaps a writer…. would u write this fic for me if i beg enough…. I’M SOOOO WEAK FOR THIS CONCEPT mer!sugu getting melancholic at the passage of time :((( tying it to his underwater existence is soooo clever too !!! it feels like he associates gojo and reader w the sun …. warmth …… and i think that shifts so easily into love. bc they’re silly little losers but they’re his silly little losers!! and wahhh him finding their attempts at courtship cute 😭😭 i can imagine him watching them bicker w his jaw on the heel of his palm, smiling softly….. <33

AND THEN!!! THE BOUQUET!!!!! ANONNNN THAT’S THE SWEETEST THING EVER… T—T HE WOULDDD HE SO WOULD i love the idea of the fish bouquet but i do think he’d give them really beautiful bouquets… and then maybe some fresh fish on the side LMAO but !!! wawawa…… 🥺🥺 that’s so CUTE the fact that he accepted their courtship but didn’t say anything….. that’s so funny. gojo and reader are losing their MINDS trying to figure out how to charm him while he’s just watching them all lovingly like ”my partners look especially cute today….” HE’S SO SILLY PLS……

okay but i do imagine that merfolk have really specific courting processes AND that they’re possessive by nature so i’m just imagining that in this au… 😵‍💫😵‍💫 like. mer!sugu glaring at any other humans by the shore who might try to flirt with his partners…… giving them both his scales to wear as some kind of jewelry to signal to the other merfolk that these humans are his…. i usually don’t like the idea of sugu being overly possessive but i think it works well w the merman au :33 he’s just a silly little fishy he’s allowed to be a little territorial… as a treat….. he loves his silly little lovers so much and they love him too!!! they only have eyes for him <33

AAAAA ANON MY SWEETIE as u can hopefully tell this ask made me insane i love it so much… IT’S SUCHH A TASTY CONCEPT i feel like i should be paying u for dropping this into my inbox….. i feel honoured…….. if u ever have any other mer!sugu thoughts u know where to find me <33

#MWAH MWAH many kisses for u :33 #i hope u have a wonderful day/night!!!!#i’m gonna be thinking abt this forever…..#poly stsg is especially good when it’s sugucentric imo :3 #just sugu and his silly little geese vying for his attention <33 i think he would be suchhh a sucker for two clingy partners #and mer!sugu… 😵‍💫😵‍💫 the man that he is. i think he’s just Smitten with gojo and reader… teases them and bullies them a bit but #he treasures them so dearly. won’t let anyone else bully them nope!!! he’d be so protective it’s insane #gojo and reader are so real btw i too would hit on a pretty merman i found by the shore <33 #ask tag ✩#mer!sugu <33

4 notes · View notes

tarysu · 4 months

Note

please eplas epelapslpslapalspasl PLEASE if you could write a fan x idol tachi (more like hunting dog tachi fan) ITY WOULD BE SO COOL. I'm going to kiss you so much if u do atp lets get married

babe who do you think I'm?! I SEE UR VISION AND I WILL WRITE IT ALL 4 U. You're like my 2nd request it's crazy cuz I'm working on my first one as well. AND MARRIAGE?? I CANT CHEAT ON MY POOKIE (jokes lets get married).. whoever u are anon I WILL FEED YOU THIS CONTENT!! (live laugh love TACHIHARA 2024). He's literally my spiritual animal so let me do some good work for you babe silly silly fluff one shot Tw: i cuss too much mb , super super DETAILED writing (i love this sm)

this has to be the longest fic I’ve written while thirsting on tachi 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 || 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 !!

✦ ─ ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ ─ ✦ the hunting dogs command respect not only within the nation but also internationally. Their popularity is a natural consequence of their remarkable abilities, as they have become heroes known for capturing the most dangerous criminals worldwide. These super soldiers, strictly crafted into humanity's weapon by the government, are the labeled faces of justice across the country. However, the 5th hunting dog remained a figure that never made a public appearance. As crazy fans speculated about the appearance of the 5th hunting dog, some had already become devoted admirers of a figure who hadn't even shown their face to the public. Yet, you were among them. A dedicated hunting dog fan, you collected nearly all of their merchandise – and by "all," you meant every piece available. You weren't any different from the other hunting dog fans, you were just like them. Kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow, your whole family thought you'd gone a bit crazy. There's a little secret behind how you became such a devoted fan, and it all traced back with an encounter six months ago at your college entry. a massive terrorist attack unfolded on your way to your college entry. You were pulled into the chaos when one of the train carriages exploded right next to yours. At that moment, you genuinely believed it might be the end of everything. The harsh reality hit you hard – you had just secured acceptance into a prestigious college, a dream your parents had worked tirelessly for, and now you found yourself teetering on the edge, facing the possibility of being pulled into death. It was a gut-wrenching situation. Before you could grasp the situation, just as you were on the verge of falling off the train, someone swiftly pulled you out of the carriage. It was a heart-thumping moment, and as your heart raced, a sense of relief washed over you – you had been saved, and it was none other than the 5th hunting dog. His hands gripped onto his chest as he leapt with you to safety. The memory remains vivid, the sensation of his touch and the brisk breeze tousling your hair still etched in your mind. You find yourself among the luckiest fans, having witnessed Michizou Tachihara eye to eye during a rescue mission. In fact, you were one of the fortunate ones personally rescued by him. Before you knew it, everything became a blur and a daze. Tachihara had no time for idle chatter, he swiftly left you in the care of the medical staff. It was unfortunate, a bit of a bummer really, that you couldn't even express your gratitude to him. It might sound a bit exaggerated, but in your eyes, it was honestly like love at first sight. As soon as your worried relatives came over to pick you up, the first thing you did was excitedly gush about the 5th hunting dog and how utterly cool he was. Even after getting home, after dinner, and even after a long, warm shower, there you are – rolling in your bed, squealing and eagerly detailing the interaction with someone on the other end of your phone. For days, for weeks, for months, it became a continuous cycle of hyperfixating on the 5th hunting dog – his ginger spikes, his fresh scent, his amber eyes, and that sharp look. You could lose yourself for years thinking about someone like him, but the nagging doubt persisted – would he come and rescue once more? If you were to encounter him once again, you'd make sure to express your gratitude for him saving your life. Of course, that's assuming if you manage to encounter him once more.

. . . . . .

. . . . Well, that brings us to the present. It's a cold morning, the second term of college has begun, and you feel utterly exhausted. Lying sprawled in your bed, you can hardly muster the energy to get up, and your phone timer has been ringing for more than 30 minutes.

You were awake, and so was the entire household. The sound of your mother storming into your room reached your ears, and before you knew it, your whole blanket was flying off. You were now facing the wrath of a drill sergeant; your mother, fierce and easily annoyed by the smallest flaws.

You didn't bother to look up, instead burying your face in a pillow, your words muffled and barely audible.

"10 mwore mwinutes…" "20 mwore mwinutes.." "5 mwore minutes.." Your mother had reached her limit; flames were clearly visible in her eyes. With a firm grip on both your feet, she pulled you down to the ground with full force. "12 mwore mwi- FUCK!! OW!!" The thud was loud, and your siblings peeked from the door. They weren't concerned for you, but they were certainly worried about themselves. If they didn't get moving, they might receive the same forceful drag your mother just delivered to you. Your mother pulled her sleeves up.

"AIYAA! BREAKFAST IS ALREADY GETTIN' COLD!" She placed her hands on her hips, observing you, her daughter, rubbing your nose from the impact of the thud. With no other option, you had to get up and get ready. In the shower, massaging your scalp with bubbles, you found your mind drifting towards your assignments and the workload for your majors. you had missed quite a few important lectures. It wasn't a major concern, though, as your friends would always send over notes. The downside? Some had handwriting resembling cave drawings, making it a struggle to decipher. Others had the most unreadable handwriting on earth, with each letter barely legible. Yet, you had somehow managed to cope with these alien notes for the first few months of college. You weren't failing your studies, to be honest you were quite motivated. Why? Because you thought of your handsome saviour all the time. Every single moment of motivation seemed to be fuelled by thoughts of him. The impact he had on you was so significant that you ended up daydreaming the most foolishly romantic scenarios with him.

Even in your rush to eat breakfast, his amber gaze occupied your thoughts. As you pondered the interaction more deeply, you couldn't help but wonder: What would have happened if he never came to your rescue? How expensive would your funeral casket be? And who would attend your funeral? But those are just thoughts of what might have been if he never came around. Running down the streets of Yokohama, you accidentally bump into a thug. Both of you tumble over, and your bag drops, creating quite a scene. The thug, looking pretty livid, glares at you.

you are scared shitless. Before you could even form an apology, he spoke ahead.

"Watch where you're goin', asshole," he spat on the ground, unmannerly as it was. That set you ablaze, but beneath the rudeness, his fierce gaze sparked a sense of familiarity. It reminded you of someone softer, though it was hard to tell since he was pretty fucking rude. The thug left shortly, leaving you annoyed and in quite a foul mood. As you picked up your bag, you made your way to the train station. However, the streets were more crowded than usual, and you thought it would be better to find a shortcut. Yokohama wasn't unfamiliar territory, you had lived here your whole life and were practically born in the city.

Yet, an uneasy feeling crept in, maybe because you found yourself walking in the sketchiest alleyway, but it being marked as the quickest route on the map so you had to trust it. Being late was your own fault, but facing your mother's wrath at home was not an option. So, you opted for the quicker route to get to college.

Yet, it felt like someone was walking every step behind you. You didn't dare to look back. Was it a hallucination? Or just the sound of your heart pounding loudly? Before you could even react, turning around, some creepy ass man was darting his dagger toward you. Miraculously, it flew out of his hand and landed against a hard brick. You froze, breaking into a cold sweat. Seeing the blade fling, you knew you had to make a run for it. You had no plans of dying today, especially not at the hands of some creep.

"..THIS BITCH-" The creep's words were abruptly cut off by a loud thud. He got kicked so hard that the brick wall he landed against cracked. ouch.

Luckily, you hid behind a barrel, fortunate enough to witness the scene unfold. It was the thug. That face was far too familiar, even from afar. It was the 5th hunting dog you had adored completely for the past few months. Sure, that damn bandaid was barely a disguise to hide his features. You… giggled. Like the dumbass you were, you couldn't help it. Tachihara's skin shivered, and the first thing his eyes landed on was you, giggling and peeking out of your tiny hiding area. He was ready to ignore it and head off since he had just finished his job. Idly rubbing the bandaid over his nose, he was snapped back to reality by the feeling of someone behind him.

You!

There you were, smiling and giggling like an idiot, seemingly eager for this moment to see him again.

"Oh… my god… YOU'RE THE 5TH HUNTIN' D-" Michizou had to cut you off quickly before his cover was blown. Michizou dragged you to a more secluded area, just the two of you. He sighed, relieved that your words didn't spill more before his cover could be blown. His hand covered your mouth, and you were pure red, all your focus on him.

After a moment, he took his hand off.

"Can you keep it down, will ya?" He spoke in a more polite manner now that he was discovered. The moment he took off his hand, he probably regretted it.

"Oh my god.. I'M LITERALLY YOUR BIGGEST FAN! OH GOD.. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE YOU AGAIN SINCE THE LAST TIME YOU SAVED ME! IT'S BEEN SO LONG AND GOSH AGHH.. THIS WAS SUCH A MESSY ATTIRE TO FORMALLY APPROACH YOU AND EXPRESS MY GRATITUDE TO YOU.. I JUST CAN'T BELIEV-"

And he shut your mouth again.

"..Fuck, you talk a lot, don't ya?" He looked at you with a sour expression, a mix of bittersweet emotions. He appreciated the praise, but you were undeniably loud. And definitely quite the talker. You were melting on the spot, your hot breath against his palm. He could feel your breath condensing on his skin, and it was not exactly pleasant. Holy shit, he swore right in front of you. Strangely, you seemed to consider that hot as fuck.

Michizou decided to keep his hand on your mouth until you calmed down. After a few moments, he only had his eyes on you. Sure, he remembered you… oh, he really did. Only because you were that crazy bitch who argued back and forth with the register at the convenience store when he was doing some errands for Teruko. But of course, he also remembered your face when he saved you. "Will ya shut up if I take my hand off ya?"

The position was awkward and uncomfortable, your back against the brick wall, completely pinned by Tachihara with his hand covering your mouth. In response, you gave him a nod, showing compliance. He was a little worried you'd start talking a lot, but luckily you didn't. But sooner or later, you did start talking again. God, you also talk when you're super nervous.

"I'm so sorry! I just felt a little relieved and pretty fuckin' excited.. AH FUCK! Don't mind my profanity, I can't really go on about my day without cussin'!"

And he regretted it once more. Eventually, Tachihara grew sick and tired of the repetitive cycle of your talkative behavior. He bluntly told you to shut the fuck up, but your excitement made it impossible for you to take him seriously. Before he left, you offered a small token of gratitude for saving you not once, but twice—a letter. It had been tucked away in your pocket for some time, kept just in case you happened to bump into him. And that letter also had your number.

. . . . . .

. . . . You kept your guard up all the time, knowing that it takes a lot of effort to get a reaction from Tachihara. It's not that he was aloof, he just had a resting bitch face most of the time you interacted with him. Aware that he was in disguise as a mafioso and often walked in your area, you poked and doted on him, fuelled by the excitement of meeting him. Of course, you complied and were careful not to expose him most of the time. You were a harmless fan, driven by excitement. tachihara knew that he'd probably also feel the same way if he discovered his hero was around him all the time, you maintained boundaries. After all, you were aware that he was just a humble soldier doing his job. He got used to your presence, the constant doting, and even the times when you got on his nerves, albeit in a playful way. However, he couldn't be in Yokohama most of the time; as a hunting dog, there were periods when he would be away from his role as a mafioso. And that absence could last for a long time. That left you bored and devoid of excitement, but you still appreciated the fact that he listened to you. You learned that he had a busy schedule as a spy infiltrating the mafia, oblivious to the mafia part because, well, you were a bit dense in that regard. You had a special request for the 5th hunting dog, but you doubted he'd fulfill it. It was for your birthday, and considering he was a busy guy out there kicking ass in the world, you weren't too hopeful. Feeling careless and a bit stupid, you reminded yourself that you were just a fan, nothing more. As the clock arms neared 12 am, your birthday was nearly over, and what sucked even more was that your family was far too busy to celebrate the age you were turning. You were cooped up in your blanket, slumped on the bed frame. Closing the lamp, you were ready to head off to bed. The moment you laid your head on the cozy pillow, the window lock unlocked by itself. Frozen, sitting up, you saw Tachihara. Your heart lit up, his whole figure shining in the moonlight.

Dressed in his his military attire , clean and impeccable, complete with his cape and hat, he stood outside your window. His fingers adjusted the brim of his hat before he spoke; THE 5th hunting dog was right outside. It looked like he had indeed made time for your request.

Your fan date.

He sat on the edge of the window, and you were amazed that he had actually come, waiting for you. Considering the amount of excuses he probably had to give just to grant one request.

“Seriously? You didn’t even fuckin’ dress up? C’mon, we’re headin’ off somewhere.”

You felt a little embarrassed since you hadn’t actually expected him to come.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come at all, so I thought-“

“Not a word, get up and get movin’.”

He reached his hand out, but you were too busy being dazed in his amber gaze. Eventually, you stood up to hold his gloved hand.

He took you by the hand, and suddenly, you felt yourself falling. On the very top floor of your apartment, he held you close. You were screaming like an idiot as you both fell, the sensation akin to a roller coaster. It was surreal, and you couldn't quite believe it was happening.

He swiftly landed on the garden ground, your heart pounding out of your mouth.

“Y’know..you could’ve just knocked at my door..”

You smiled, enjoying the rhythm of the wind blowing against you both.

He turned his head to you.

“That’d be pretty fuckin’ lame,” he said in a cool tone.

Lame?

“Wouldn’t wanna bore out the birthday princess, wasn’t my entrance up to your fuckin’ taste?”

You did have a thrill for action, but you couldn’t help but just laugh. You were nervous for this, but he was right. He really had a keen eye.

“Well-..uh, thank you for really makin’ an effort.”

Michizou really did make an effort. It wasn't something he'd normally do, but occasionally, for his number one fan, he would.

“Consider yourself a lucky fan.”

With one swift move, he leaped into the air, jumping on wire stands. Your stomach dropped, but it was amazing. He brought you to all kinds of stores, bought you meals because, well, he was a dirty rich guy anyways. And he even snuck you into the Ferris wheel, bypassing the lines with ease.

It truly felt like a date, holding hands and engaging in small talk – the kind of experience you never had during your youth. You had always wondered what teenage girlhood felt like, with crushes and holding hands with boys. But here you were, holding hands with none other than the finest hunting dog.

Treated like a client, yet strangely satisfied, you found yourself dozing off as Michizou took you home just before dawn. Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, the finest hunting dog carefully laid you on your bed.

A soft snicker escaped him as he glanced at all the hunting dog posters adorning your walls, particularly amused by the one featuring Fukuchi's shirtless physique framed. In that moment, the boundary between fan and idol blurred.

you were already planning to enthusiastically recount the memorable date when you woke up—an unforgettable birthday etched in the pages of your fangirl heart.

the fifth hunting dogs number one.

#bsd #bsd tachihara #bsd season 5 #bungou stray dogs #tachihara michizou #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs tachihara #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #sos send help #This was a long writing hellejsjsn #I feel like a fucking star #Chat I did it and this is just for u bbg #I need to work on my other 1 I WILK FEED THE NATION #BROOM BROOM MEOWWWW TACHIIIIHARAAAAAA #meiw #ZIMZALA BIMMMMMM #dying of no tachihada #Live laugh love being delusional

5 notes · View notes