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acey-wacey · 1 year

Note

Hi hi! Could I order a scenario of how Jade and Floyd would react to MC hiding behind them because they’re being chased by bullies?? Maybe grabbing onto the tweels (о´∀`о)

I like to think they’d be surprised of someone hiding BEHIND them instead of FROM them lol..

I'm a sucker for platonic tweels! This is my lifeline rn!!

...

Shrimpy Protection Agency

Three of the more troublesome NRC seniors decided that they weren't too pleased with all the attention you were getting, having been in Twisted Wonderland for only a few months.

The students decided to corner you in the hallway, much to your surprise and demand that you apologize for the trouble you've stirred up.

When you refused, they accused you of being disrespectful and threatened to hurt you if you didn't start respecting your upperclassmen.

Through your fear, you managed to slip between the students and make a break for it.

You knew they were older, stronger, and faster than you so you wouldn't be able to outrun them.

Your only hope was to hide.

You frantically searched for a place to hide as you sprinted into the courtyard.

You were hoping someone would be there to stop the upperclassmen from pummeling you but it was empty.

No, not empty.

On the very far side of the courtyard, hidden in the shadows, the Leech twins stood, both looking mildly bored.

"Jade! Floyd!"

They both perked up upon hearing your voice.

What was excitement to see you, quickly became confusion as you ran to them and wrapped your arms around Floyd's torso from the back, shielding yourself from your pursuers.

Jade almost never showed his emotions on his face which made it all the more terrifying when his expression darkened as the bullies followed you to the courtyard.

All three of them stopped in their tracks when they saw the intimidating look on Jade's face, worsened by the wide-eyed and manic Floyd.

It wasn't usual to see either of them, especially Jade, without their signature customer service smile on, even when threatening someone, but when it came to you, there wasn't any pleasantry.

They didn't even try to pretend like your bullies weren't in danger.

"I will give you 5 seconds of silence before I begin my pursuit," whispered Jade, though the attackers heard him loud and clear in the echoey silence of the courtyard.

The one that appeared to be the leader scoffed and nervously chuckled.

"You're just a second-year. I'm not afraid of you. And I sure as he11 wouldn't need a headstart."

"Oh, you misunderstand," Floyd laughed, his eyes still crazed. "Five seconds wouldn't help you for a headstart. We're giving you a chance to pray to every God who'll bother to listen to a pathetic bottom-feeder like you."

"You're monsters!" one of the goons screeched after a few seconds of listening to their panicked breathing. Both twins just smiled in the same unsettling form.

"That bridge was burned a lot time ago, my friend," Jade chuckled menacingly before he went back to staring into the bullies' souls. "5."

"Listen, dude! We were just messing around!"

"4."

"Okay, you're seriously starting to freak me out!"

"Better get on that praying then. 3."

"I'm gonna... tell the headmaster!"

"Oh, I'm so scared. 2."

"Guys, let's get out of here!"

"That little shrimp isn't worth this."

"Only I get to call them that!" Floyd screamed after the goons as they stumbled over themselves to get away.

You could hear the bullies leaving but you still slayed firmly attached to Floyd.

"I'm a touch offended you didn't latch into me that way. Do you trust Floyd more than me?"

You looked up to see Jade smirking at you with his usual calm composure, much opposed to his "predator mode".

"I'm sorry," you sniffled, though you all knew you didn't really mean it. "Next time, I'll hide behind you instead."

"Oh, no, no, no, Shrimpy," Floyd glared at you. You could tell it wasn't directed at you specifically but it was still intimidating. "There's not going to be a next time."

"At least we can agree on that note, brother dearest," Jade mused, brushing a hair behind your ear. "We'll make sure no one will ever mess with you again, Y/N."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, that's a secret," Jade put a finger to his lips and you could see the angry fire behind his eyes.

"You can hug me anytime you want though, Shrimpy!" Floyd chimed in cheerily. You laughed and leaned into his chest.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done with out you," you sighed and grabbed Jade's hand, tugging him into a group hug. "I love you. Both of you."

Jade wasn't usually particularly affection and Floyd didn't often practice restraint but both of them cared enough about you to just smother you in a brotherly hug, as long as it will make you happy.

Jade and Floyd made eye contact over your shoulder, making a silent agreement to break every bone in your bullies' bodies and make it look like an accident.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disneytw #jade leech x reader #jade leech x platonic! reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x platonic! reader #leech twins

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literaila · 1 month

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it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words.

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day.

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart.

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.”

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces.

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly.

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.”

“i wasn’t mean.”

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.”

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.”

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.”

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.”

“well, i do! you’re my brother.”

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.”

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“

“i’ve never complained—“

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.”

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed.

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last.

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling.

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down.

this seems… different.

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ.

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work.

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end.

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language.

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture.

satoru would do it if he was here.

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle.

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance.

you make a mental note to look it up later.

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea.

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces.

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?”

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question.

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care.

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried.

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her.

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.”

“you told her not to talk to you!”

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?”

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.”

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?”

you turn, “megumi—“

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes.

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do.

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.”

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?”

“maybe.”

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.”

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“

“why are you always—“

“guys.”

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice.

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further.

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh.

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that.

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through.

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of.

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.”

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.”

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now.

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious.

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait.

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time.

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.”

they both glare at each other.

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary.

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.”

you both look at megumi, waiting.

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“

“megumi.”

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head.

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.”

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.”

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything.

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess.

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off."

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break.

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.”

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.”

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing.

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago.

“chiyo's my friend!”

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.”

“but you were mean.”

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated.

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.”

“maybe they just suck.”

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart.

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you.

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out."

"by yelling at each other?"

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--"

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other.

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker.

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes.

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them.

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off.

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered.

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door.

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or...

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way.

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that.

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think."

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug.

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them."

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in."

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?"

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way.

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something."

"we're communicating."

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically.

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them."

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously.

"and neither will your parenting skills."

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me."

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?"

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those."

"satoru."

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block."

you look at him blandly.

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology.

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you.

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face.

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you.

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen.

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option.

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard.

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going.

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in.

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it."

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty."

"well, i taught him that."

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did."

"of course you didn't."

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?"

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it."

"who?"

you frown. "chiyo?"

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki."

"behind her back?"

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding.

"oh."

"yeah, oh."

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad."

you shake your head at him, tsking.

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same.

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin.

it's a very unpleasant feeling.

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly.

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while."

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well.

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rippersz · 2 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆'𝒔 𝑨 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎

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

Larissa Weems x Reader x Alcina Dimitrescu (NSFW; Double Penetration; Lewd Language; BDSM; Mommy Kink; Breeding; G!P)

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

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Too much touching, too much pleasure, too much passion.

It’s all warm bodies, panting breaths, deep growls, small whimpers, and so much heat that you feel faint with it. They have you stuck in between, held up and hovering over thick thighs while two sets of strong hips alternate powerful thrusts. In and out. In and out. In… out… Easy and light for the two of them as sharp nails leave deep indents in the flesh of your ass, clenching and unclenching. She shoulders most of the weight, the taller of your two lovers, while she takes her fill. Insatiable and dark. Hard, fast, and rough. There’s grunts that pour past your ear and fan against the sensitive skin of your neck, creating the most precious addictive harmony as she scrapes razor-sharp fangs along the soft flesh of your trapezius. Skirting around the very edge of pain. She knows you fear it. She knows you’re waiting. Fortunately, she’s already made up her mind. The feeding will be for another night- or perhaps later, when you’re passed out on the bed between them, plugged to keep the warmth of their cum from spilling out of your pretty body. She’s unbelievably excited about that if the flex of her hips and strong steady hold is anything to go by. It’s a sweet gesture in the long run, keeping you in place so that the woman in front of you, grasping onto your lower thighs, can have an easier time using you for pleasure.

And she is. Absolutely.

Larissa’s porcelain skin is flushed pink with desire, spreading all the way down to the milky expanse of her bare chest. She’s huffing, her beautiful red lips parted with a sense of disbelief while her eyes, blown dark with an appreciative pupil, lock themselves onto the sensitive place where your bodies meet. She studies your venus mound, the soft curls wetted by your desire, and licks her lips without thought while you watch the hypnotizing roll of her torso. In and out… in and out… smooth and easy and deep enough to make both of you exhale soft moans and whimpers on each thrust. She doesn’t have the stamina Alcina does, but that’s why your draconic lover takes most of the force… and most of the resistance. Their difference in size, in moments like this, is terribly noticeable. You feel it in their hands, in the closeness of their chests and their heights, even while kneeling on the bed, and in the thick of their cocks as they grind into you from both ends.

Filling all that they can, for all that they’re worth, and enjoying the sounds of your broken cries.

“P-please- can’t!- Sens-sensitive!” You scream, vision blurring with hot tears as they continue their evil dance.

Alcina is absolutely fucking punishing. You’re not sure how you’re going to walk comfortably come morning with the way she smacks against your backside. She’s obviously not shy and only finds a sick sort of enjoyment in your answering sobs whenever she whispers how tight you are for her. How desperate. Clenching around both of their lengths like a needy depraved little slut.

And Larissa, who listens with sharp ears and responds with appreciative moans, can only watch and partake in her own lewd show as she sees the way Alcina hovers over you. Making eye contact with those golden fires, feeling adored beneath the heavy heat that comes with the constant stare your taller lover gives her. Eyes raking over the softness of her breasts, the hickies on the swell of her ribs, the golden curls at the base of her cock… Slightly smaller than Alcina’s, and tinged pink with delight as it moves in and out of you with fervor. Stretching with ease as you take her right to the hilt over and over and over. It feels like a piece of Heaven all on its own, plucked right from the stars, as Larissa looks up from beneath her lashes and bats her eyes at Alcina. Her cock throbs, wild with pleasure, as it fills you swiftly- and she takes that moment to pause. The lull barely has time to confuse you before Larissa is leaning closer, pressing your chests together in warm, hazy damp delight, so she can bring her lips right up to your-... shoulder. Over your shoulder. To meet the pull of Alcina’s body as her bountiful chest, soft and gentle, pins itself to the contours of your back. You can almost feel the heavy thump of her heart.

“Kiss me, darling,” Alcina breathes quickly, her voice a deep pleasant rumble brushed against Larissa’s lips. They keep themselves inside of you, prolonging the ache in your body as they kiss. Slow and sensual, red lips opening and parting, pink tongues licking into each other with languid strokes. Eyes closed, suspended in bliss, throats bobbing with the most erotic moans. You can only watch, entranced and bewitched, as a strong shiver races down your spine. You quake in their shared hold and shift your gaze to see- Oh. Gold. Striking gold, glowing beneath a heavy lid, watching you with cloying amusement. It’s embarrassing to be seen in such a needy state, blushing and clenching and eager for whatever they can give you… you want to hide away, but you have nowhere to go. They’re so warm, so strong, and kissing so lovingly.

Alcina’s eye closes as she loses herself in your other lover’s sweet mouth, and the desperation in your body only shoots to unbearable heights as the attention is stolen away.

“Please,” you whimper. Give it to me. Anything. Fuck me until I pass out and you can’t control yourselves anymore. Please. Anything. I love you.

Larissa is the first to pull away. She’s slow, letting Alcina steal one last moan from her lungs, before she’s settling back onto her heels and licking the spit from her lips. Slow and appreciative. You figure they both taste like wine and sex and your body begins to squirm without much thought–completely taken by the envious nature that swells in your heart.

Kiss me too. Please. Please, kiss me too.

“Poor thing…,” your lover whispers, her breath like a cool balm against your heated skin. You nod immediately, trying to garner some appreciation, some sympathy, and lean your head back to rest on Alcina’s collarbone. She feels so strong behind you, still holding your legs without even a tremor in her forearms - and keeping you open for Larissa, who ducks to nuzzle against your neck. “Have we been neglecting you?” She asks in a murmur, the words flowing like individual pieces of silk from her cherry lips.

You nod, quickly, and bring your hands up from your thighs to rest over her shoulders. A small tug has her settling closer, pressing so far into you that no space slips between your bodies. Chests kissing and hips locked, the sweat on her skin glistens beneath firelight.

The hearth is proudly lit and burning away, flickering with shadows that dance across your sinful tango. Everything smells of perfume and sex and you’re eager to feel them moving again. Alcina is starting to hurt, aching so much within her nestled spot that you try to adjust - but her hands only dig into your thighs with renewed vigor. She doesn’t want you to escape. She doesn’t want you to leave. You feel the burn and you stay there for them, because tonight that’s your job.

Larissa’s little pet. Alcina’s little fucktoy. That’s usually how it goes.

And the sweet peck that the former gives you a moment later, lingering in the space between your eyebrows, sparks a little whimper to run from your throat. It’s a raw sound, betraying your need, and you watch as Larissa’s eyes soften. She is always so weak for you—never able to keep up the mean façade for very long. She can tease like a motherfucker, but the near punishing pace Alcina often sets is not something she can always adapt to. So she loves as she does now, kissing every bit of your face that she can reach, letting out soft moans that make your mouth water. And when you try moving to capture her lips, lazily twisting your head, she backs away. A terrible game of cat and mouse. A form of torture that has you in near tears because goddammit you just need them to DO something alread-

“Hngh!” A strained, choked sound, taken from the very depths of your eager soul, splits the heavy air.

It’s tinged with pain, overwhelmed with pleasure, as Alcina’s cock, in all of its big glory, drags out of your hole and slams back in.

“Fuck,” you hear her low murmur before the rest of her appreciation is drowned out by Larissa’s gasp.

She’s clearly very sensitive, instantly shutting her eyes in undeniable bliss as the motions of your dance start up again. Alcina grinds easily, producing the dirtiest sounds as the meat of her thighs slaps against your ass. And no moan is stifled. No growl is hidden. She wants you to hear her. She knows how much it makes you throb, and when that happens, she knows it pleasures them both. And that’s part of it, of course. A common point of teasing. She pulls out certain reactions from you so you can please Larissa. Your sweet angel. Bucking her hips like she is now, a mad woman made by your own hands. White hair in disarray, chest painted in lipstick and light bruises, legs shaking with need.

They stretch you so well… The perfect fits for your body. Even if it hurts. Even if, occasionally, you wince. It doesn’t matter. You’re just so warm… So easy… Constantly ready to drop to your knees if they ask. Always in the mood to give yourself up. It’s just as Alcina says:

“Such an eager little whore for your Mommies, aren’t you darling?”

Yes. Yes, you are.

“Mhm… Our pretty little cocksleeve…”

God, yes.

“Isn’t that right, Larissa? Such a good princess we have, hm?”

The response is a deep purr. “Without a doubt, my love. So… oh gods, fuck… so obedient…”

Very. The most obedient. No choice but to be. Doesn’t matter. You’re a good princess. Best cocksleeve. All for them. Pretty Mommies…

Out there, you are more than this. You are something perhaps a bit more human. A bit more independently functional. You are expected to do things. Told to be mightier. Conditioned to work and provide and never rest.

But here…

Oh here you are nothing but a means to an end. A hole to fill as your lovers, all red lips and aureate eyes crashing into sapphires, black and white hair in complete contrast, fuck you at their own paces. Staring at each other over your shoulder, hearts in their pupils, while they use you like the two-holed toy in between. Your pleas go unanswered. Your tears go unlicked.

They use your body like they’ve spent their whole lives waiting to. And your body accepts them. Eager for their care, their love, the heat that they want to fill you with.

“Cum with me, Larissa.” In your foggy haze, you hear Alcina pant. “Please,” she begs, a sweet sound you rarely get to hear, “Help me- hngfuckfuck- f-fill our little girl.”

The term of endearment has you exploding in goosebumps, growing stiff with the amount of times your cunt squeezes around Larissa’s length in the span of only a few moments. It’s addicting, this position. This intimacy. The mind-numbing passion that follows in the wake of their rapid, eager thrusts. An easy tell for the bliss you’re about to feel.

“Yes- yesyesyesyesyes!- Al-cina-!” Your fair-haired lover squeaks as she doubles over, presses her forehead into your neck, and pumps her hips erratically. The shiver flows through her veins and comes to a head, quick and hard, as she crumbles inside of you.

Alcina, delighted by the show of those blue eyes rolling back in pleasure, follows without preamble. Her thrusts are mad, lost in their forgotten timing, and descend into short bursts of strength as she works herself all the way inside and finally gives into the electricity that floats into her body.

The feeling of their breasts pressed to your front and back, heaving with the love you’ve given them, the Heaven that’s been taken, is enough to send you into a small orgasm of your own. It’s a weak pulse of your body, too tired and hazy to register anything but the thick warm cum that floods you. Spilling and spilling until you’re nearly certain that it’s all going to dribble out onto the length of their cocks as soon as they pull out, and then dirty the bedspread.

But really who gives a fuck about the bedspread?

They’ll just buy another set, rich and expensive and softer than feathers.

And then ruin that one too.

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

Drops dead - Rip x

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

Too tired for tags... waaaa...

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tinycozycomfort · 6 months

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i found the door

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day seven of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: edging -> read her day seven here

summary: Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision.

warnings/tags: edging, daddy kink, c*ckwarming, touch of somno, unprotected piv, age gap (joel is 50s, reader is not), dom/sub dynamics, the tone of this is: they're in love, bulge kink, name calling (slut) + pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc)

word count: 1.8k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i am so hashtag nervous about this one but very big thank you to @pascalisbaby for encouraging me and listening to me complain every day 🖤

main masterlist

“What is she, sweetheart? What do we call her when she’s drooling like that?”

Joel noses at your chin, puffy stripe of scarring across the bridge dragging colder than the rest, lifting a field of goosebumps in its wake.

You can barely mumble at first, the swipe of his thumbs along your ribcage doing little to ground you, focus washed out with the low light that pools in from the window. His hands are firm—even in their spread—pinkies dipping into the crease of your side as he keeps you seated atop him, sweat-damp sheets taut where they weave between the folds of your knees.

You’re pliable over him, hiked up and lopsided where he’s fixed you high in his lap, the shape of his cock outlined inside you to the hilt.

Nights like this—right before the onslaught of Wyoming winter—he likes to just let the time pass, to make use of his body while it’s still skin-warm, no cold to slow his joints or frost to stiffen his muscle. He wants to prove himself capable, spry, even in his climbing age, to make sure you both know how in control he still is of this vessel, of your pleasure.

He does it in the slowest way—the only way he sees appropriate—unwrapping you in pieces, biting away at the minutes like they’re endless, peeling away at the doubts he only thinks you have for him.

Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision. The valleys of his hollowed cheeks are deep, his restraint bound there in the tense sinew between his molars.

Only when he feels you deflate does he rock up gently, nudging at the apex of your womb, never touching—just the suggestion of what he’s able to find within you. He lets you whine and plead until you’re at the steep slope of your orgasm before stopping altogether, letting it wane, over and over, the pause to recoup shortening with each near-miss—a loop of ‘almost’s and ‘just-so’s that remind you he can take away as much as he can give.

“Hm?” He’s encouraging as he draws you from your stupor, a lapse in his unkindness—some space for you to right your wrong.

“A slut.”

Joel rolls back on the knob of bone that ends his spine, curling his hips up to give you just the slightest bit of friction.

“That’s right. Little pussy’s being such a slut for me.” He shifts up again, just a beat to punctuate his point, the squelch that follows sounding out in the silence as if on cue. “Don’t know how you don’t fall all over yourself dripping like that.”

You’re humming again in response, the last two full words taking more of a toll than they’re worth, voice scratchy from just how much crying you’ve done. The little analog clock on the nightstand ticks, tallying the painfully long stretch that’s passed since he promised to fuck you; that and the hour, maybe—or well over—since he decided he was going to make you wait for it instead.

He savors this—the chance to make you up like some sleepy, weak thing that he can dote on, that he can thaw between his hands and mold into all of his beloved shapes, syrupy and unwound and enamored. He loves you like this, at his mercy, the heft of his strength and his promise enough to carry you through to the other side of content.

He needs you like this.

Joel reaches down to where your middle scrapes the start of his chest, grazing his knuckles over the swell in your lower tummy, rubbing at the wide protrusion that evidences his excitement. He flattens his palm over it like a bandage, uses it as leverage to put some space between you so he can get a better view, carving out more room where he’s hooking into you.

“Look at that. Got me so deep inside you it’s trying to come out. You gonna keep it in for me?”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished, ready for him to bring you to another barely-peak, shoulders slack so as to not work yourself up, hope strapped to the last notch.

“Poor thing. Had enough, honey? Ready to beg for it?”

You huff before thinking, “I have been.”

“No—crying at me isn’t begging. You have to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please…?”

“Joel, can you pl–”

He scoops up the meat of your cheeks with his free hand, fingers scalloping the flesh in a tight grip, wedging the points between your teeth until it feels like he’s inside you; he has you by your soul at this point, his hold runs so deep.

“I know my girl isn’t that dim. How many times have we practiced this, sweetheart? Still can’t get it right on the first try?”

He’s dead serious—frown severe—but you can’t help the curl of your mouth, laughter bubbling at the base of your throat. What a horrible, mean man he wants to be. In reality, he loves you more than he’s able to say most days, only leaning back on this game of obedience and correction and reward as a crutch when he can’t find the words.

“Sorry, daddy.”

Joel angles his fingers back so that he’s hanging onto the hinges of your jaw, the broad U of his middle-to-thumb long enough to give you room to speak and breathe and scream.

His hips start to cant, the sticky swing of his cock inside you pulsing outwards, a fresh wave of arousal pooling at the joint.

“There we go. Go ahead with the rest, then.”

“Daddy—fuck, please.”

His resolve begins to melt at just the mention of his newly-appointed favorite title, a thing that slides between completely earnest and a silly pass at something new, not completely settled into habit. Even so, it’s sticking fast, the sheen over his eyes and abnormal measure of his breathing proof enough.

“Please, what, sweet girl? You need daddy to make that slut pussy happy? You need to come?”

Your mouth is wide open, nothing coming out but brief, irregular puffs of air that keep you conscious. He’s enjoying it—hoists his chest up so he can get close to your face, unhinge his own jaw, mock you that much more. He fails to not smile, head bobbing has he continues to fuck up into you with all the effort his body, and this position, are willing to allow.

The hand pushing into your stomach falls, twisting at the wrist so he can toy with your clit, struggling not to slip in the web of slick that’s yet to dry where you’re connected. He’s determined, though—switches his thumb for the flat section of skin between his last two knuckles, gliding along the bead of skin at your core until you’re slumping forward, unable to take the whole brunt of him at full mast.

“Oh, honey. Can’t even get fucked right anymore, can you? What’s gonna happen when you can’t take this cock? What do you suppose I do with you, then?”

“No, daddy. ‘M just tired. Don’t stop, please.”

“Half-awake and the only thing you can think to do is ask for more. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Yes, more, more.”

“That’s right. Tell daddy how grateful you are. Tell me how much you need it.”

“Fuck, yes. I need you.”

The fingers on your face pinch harder, throbbing as your cheek contours to the line of your teeth. Joel shakes his wrist, your neck lolling in his clutch as he commands your attention.

“Hey, I let it slide the first time. Don’t use that kind of language with me, girl. Be polite to me for all I do for you.”

You’re too close to the end to say anything other than sorry, sorry daddy, the pitch rising in time with his movements, the burn of your climax worming its way up your spine. He’s equally as close, descending into the force of his movements so quickly he abandons his half-hearted reprimand, lashes clumping and wet, the line of his brow shining with sweat. He works at your clit with unwavering effort, sliding ten-fold as you begin to meet his thrusts, the two of you fighting to be on-beat in the work-up.

“I’m gonna come. Please. Please, can I?”

“What am I going to want to hear from you before you do, sweetheart?” He tucks the bow of tissue that separates his thumb to your chin, his longer fingers plucking at some of the hair that's tacked down with wet—another show of sympathy.

“I love you.”

“How sweet are you, hm—when you want to be? That’s my perfect girl. Just one more time, now.”

“Joel, I love you. More than f—more than anything.”

He manages a exhale—his best attempt at amusement in this state—at the way you fumble to catch your own error, too close to the edge to afford another mistake.

You clamp down with both hands on the forearm clutching your face, like more of you on him can better emphasize your statement and he moans, a high, ragged thing that falls out before he can contain it.

Eventually, he accepts, “I love you, too, honey. More than you know.”

You’re right at the cusp now, cunt seizing around where he’s driving up into you and he aims to bring you there before he falters, “Come on, let me have it. Show me just how much you love me.“

It's just a slew of yes’s after that, body locking up as the crest of your orgasm washes over you in flashes of white, so intertwined with him you don’t realize he’s made his way there as well, the sear of his release a welcome addition to the flurry.

He doesn’t stop until your breathing evens, dropping his grip to wind his arms at the small of your back. He envelops you the way he wishes he could have to begin with, with all of the raw affection he needs courage to produce.

“I mean it. Really.” He thumbs at the bumps of your spine, a swirl of something like guilt threading through his voice.

You’re quick to dismiss it, dropping your head into the slope of his neck, the chill of September flooding in now that you’ve halted. You bring an arm up, fingers pleating into the hair he’s grown out in preparation for the season—a cut you suspect he’s kept because you’d mentioned taking a liking to it. You shuffle closer, knees slanted inwards to cradle him.

“I know, Joel. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

#tw: daddy kink #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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sunboki · 6 months

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⎯ PAPER PLANES a Kim Seungmin fiction

🛩️ : Kim Seungmin x gn. reader

TROPE. friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff fluff fluff galore

WORD COUNT. 1.5k!!

WARNINGS. cursing

AUG'S NOTES. still crazy about this concept💀 … i wrote this in 30 minutes in complete silence.. the demons have possessed me…

SYNOPSIS. Life in the city has never been as interesting as this. More specifically starting the moment your newest neighborhood, Kim Seungmin, moved in next door.

or alternatively :

It was only a matter of time before those paper airplanes turned into something more.

City nights are your greatest escapade and your worst nightmare. When insomnia plagues you awake, it’s easy to turn off all your fans and just listen.

New York isn’t called the city that never sleeps for no reason.

Whether it’s the faint honking of a car or the nearest nightclubs obnoxiously loud stereo, 24 hours a day almost every day of the year this city’s eyes remain open, and in essence, it makes you feel a tad bit better about those sleepless nights.

There’s the buzz of your surroundings, but as for your apartment complex, things are pretty quiet.

Well, you did intentionally choose a very much elderly-occupied residency after all.

Until somebody else showed up, somebody who didn’t explain to you on a morning basis of how they’re deciding on their casket.

And he sings.

Headed back from work up the elevator was when you ran into him for the first time. A smidge taller than yourself, puffy hair hanging over his forehead.

Neither of you talked apart from the courtesy “Which floor are you going to?” followed by an equally courteous “Five”, and you realizing you were both headed to the same place.

Elevators are a dangerous place. Anything could go wrong, technical issues, you end up trapped, weird strangers, and a myriad of unfortunate events waiting to happen. What’s worse? The conversations.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from the decades worth of elevators you’ve been on is that they’re either a place to never stop talking or never talk.

As for this discovered neighbor of yours, you spend a solid thirty seconds deciding the right course of action.

“So where’d you move from?” You pique, watching the numbers atop the door slowly increase.

“South Korea,” He responds, and out of the corner of your eye you notice him glancing at you, hands stuffed in his puffer coat’s pockets.

Mouth opening to speak, you immediately close it, evidently surprised. To think how hellish the flight must’ve been humbled you instantly, not to mention how he carried no accent when conversing.

But before you could ask any more questions the doors open and he wordlessly slips past you, leaving you to silently follow.

“Wait!” Calling out prior to him walking through the door, he stops, turning to you with a confused expression adorning delicate features.

“What’s your name?” You voice another inquiry, hand also fastened onto the doorknob.

He blinks, the action scarily resembling a puppy dog.

“Seungmin. Kim Seungmin.”

Seungmin.

Cute.

“Y/n, nice to meet you.” Nodding politely his way, he returns the gesture, a sudden unwelcoming awkwardness creeping further into your skin the longer you both stand there, staring at each other.

And of course your genius of a mind decides to open its big fat mouth.

“..I guess we’re neighbors, huh.”

No shit sherlock, You internally reprimand, wishing oh so badly to leap out of the nearest window.

Sucking his teeth, Seungmin hums agreeably, and you feel like the stupidest person in the world.

“Yeah well, bye!” Panickedly twisted the knob and racing inside to slam the door behind you, you sink to the ground, clutching your head pathetically.

“Y/n…” You whine, addressing yourself like a lunatic. There’s a heavy sigh, a leaning your head back, thumping against the wooden frame.

“…What the fuck is wrong with you.”

Nonetheless, the night you first heard his voice pitch through gleaming neon signs was one to remember.

Typing manically on your keyboard while a half-empty glass of watered down coffee occupied the space beside you, you squint, scrutinizing that same sentence at least a dozen times before ripping the headphones off your ears and raising up frustratedly.

This essay is definitely earning a rightful spot on your thirteen reasons why list, a close second to your first impression on Seungmin last week.

Stretching your arms above your head, you hear it. An entrancing, melodic tone sifting beneath your cracked window, decorating your bedroom in a decadent assortment of color.

Carefully tiptoeing to pry open the window fully, you crane, cheek pressed against cold glass.

It’s Seungmin. Face tipped to the side, lips halfway parted. You don’t know if he’s focused on something or what, but you know he’s the only thing that matters in this moment.

His vibrato, the way he perfectly slices notes into harmonious rhythm pulls you in like a hummingbird to nectar.

You find yourself aimlessly standing there, rocking back and forth of your heels, savoring the effortlessly sweet relief he fills your exhausted soul with.

Day after day he’d sing, voice never ceasing to calm your senses, as if supernatural, into a lulling drone. No thoughts, just him.

Occasionally it’d be a new tune, one familiar, one not. Over and over and over again you’d routinely wait for him, like a child rushing to see their favorite cartoon.

And as a result, Seungmin became one of your biggest sources of comfort without either of you knowing it.

Today is the day.

Reaching over as far as you can muster with the makeshift paper airplane held tightly, you attempt at reading the wind, trying to decipher the best time to launch this secret weapon of yours.

Well, not really secret (somewhat), and also not a weapon, but you get the picture.

This morning you’d taken tedious measures to ensure your innovative paper airplane note would successfully fly, especially since the note inside was just as innovative.

𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. Was what it read, and you thought the compliment was pretty appropriate considering how often you’d admire his mellowed tunes in the eve.

Except, the first one was a fail, then the second one, and a third, and by the forth airplane you had paper-cuts all over your hands and a temper teetering on the brink of defeat.

Hey, at least three people today (almost four) would get a “I like your singing” note today.

Whoosh! Your note flies, and just when you begin to lose hope does it switch trajectories, successfully hitting his balcony’s screen door.

To say you shouted was an understatement. Hell, the entirety of New York likely heard your chanting, yelling, and the entourage of oddly proud noises in between.

Noises of which were quickly muted upon said screen door opening, to where you frantically drop down, peering between the chair’s legs to observe his reaction.

Seungmin glances around repeatedly, curiously, prior to peeling back paper folds.

You inhale sharply.

His eyes graze over the sentence, investigating his surroundings again.

No reaction.

You initially deflate, grumbling to yourself defeatedly.

Until a tiny sliver of hope peeks through dark curtains.

Seungmin smiles.

He covers his mouth (an action you don’t understand but start to considering how dazzlingly bright it is), and laughs. A soft laugh that has his shoulders shaking, corner of his eyes wrinkling into charming crescent moons.

You swear there’s a ring of sparkling light outlining him, like something out of a K-Drama.

His smile could (and should) win an award, you’re convinced.

And just like that he disappears back into his apartment, and you chant a nonstop “Oh my god!” a good thirty-six times, unable to contain the feather-light feeling spreading from your fingertips to the very tip of your toes.

Cute. Kim Seungmin was so, so cute.

From the sheepish grins he gives you each time he’s seen you since, you have a hunch he knows it was you who sent the note, but you choose to act oblivious.

Oblivious, before you received a note of your own.

Of course, Kim Seungmin’s paper airplane is perfect, aerodynamic and probably arrived on the first throw unlike your consecutive sacrifices.

Slowly shuffling open the response, you peek through hesitant fingers, slapping a hand over your gaping mouth upon witnessing his obviously perfect handwriting.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 :) , It reads. Something so mundane and proper there’s no reason you should be losing your mind, but you are, and the rattling of your heartbeat serves the best explanation.

You make sure to hang the note up afterward, right above your laptop.

So over the next few days, the both of you become more daring, more adventurous. Two paper airplanes turn into four, four to eight, eight to eleven. By now there’s not enough room to hang all of them up.

Meaningless conversations. Asking about dinner plans, what you’re currently doing, what your favorite hobbies are, favorite songs. But yet, they mean so much to you.

Your own, childish way of communicating even though the mature, adult reply would be to knock on his door.

Although, he seems to love it as much as you do.

𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? Is scribbled on the airplane he’d sent a few minutes ago.

𝙽𝚘, 𝚠𝚑𝚢? You write quickly onto one, hands nimbly constructing the shape after sending so many. Routine.

Returning to stirring the pot of boiling water in front of you, a familiar tap alerts you, padding over to grasp his letter.

Strangely, a part of you grows more and more excited, plopping down into your chair to gradually take apart his craftsmanship.

Your legs move before you can even register your own feelings, scrambling outside.

Seungmin’s there, breathtaking smile as brilliant as ever despite such dim lighting.

There’s no need to admit you’ve been sending them now. Especially not from the way he gazed at you, the words inscribed on that paper airplane.

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

He bites back an even bigger grin, cheeks dusting rosy pink from the cold air.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

787 notes · View notes

dahliadew · 1 year

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Danny Fenton goon union representative (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

At no point in Danny's life has he ever turned down a challenge, even when he had to deal with opponents bigger than himself. From dealing with everyone from Dash to Vlad to heck pariah dark, he's learned to take down people bigger than himself. So when he overhears that his nice father of four neighbors has been having some trouble at work and has been unable to get some time off, he figures it can't hurt to try to help such a nice guy out. And it does go ok, all things considered; I mean, what if the guy's boss was the penguin, and so what if Danny maybe had to show off some of his less-than-human characteristics to get him to agree to let the guy have some time off? Everything worked out at the end of who cares.

Well, when word gets out that someone is not afraid to go tow to tow with the city's villains, someone's bound to either take him out or hire him. And when word gets around that he's willing to help get better working conditions for Gotham's goon workers, their union could use a new representative.

So Danny inadvertently gets a new job, wherein he gets to meet many strange characters around the city and help many friendly working-class people with their problems. Interchange the goons help hide Danny from the bat, and his no meta-rule, even if Danny doesn't know they're hiding him. But this does cause some problems because people like black mask don't necessarily want to pay for their goon's vision care or overtime and refuses to adhere to any of the union's demands. Danny, for what it's worth, did warn the guy because, unlike black mask, he has the goon's respect and knows that they will listen to him, so when he proposes a strike, they readily agree to his suggestion.

And with all of this going down so quickly in the city, both batman and the red hood need to get as much info on this new player before things get even more out of hand. But with all of the normal underground information channels refusing to give them anything, they are forced to schedule a meeting with not only the union but its infamous leader, which is good for Danny because he wasn't sure how to get into contact with batman anyway. He has some concerns with the level of violence used to take down some goons. And well, when they have no choice but to work in this industry, they should, at the very least, outline a clear code of conduct for all parties involved to ensure the safest possible work environment.

#danny phantom #danny phantom crossover #dc x dp #dp crossover #dp dc crossover #dp prompt #dp fanfic #dc x dp prompt #batman #red hood #black mask #my man fights for the little guy #eldritch danny #who cares if he might not be human he helped Phill get dental added to the list of benefits #fanfiction prompts #dcu prompts

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californ1asnow · 6 months

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Call Me Up Again - pt. 2 Mike Schmidt x Reader

Part two of All Too Well Angst!!! So much angst everyone I've decided to turn this into a miniseries, this post being the second part. I'll continue to link chapters as I post them This is also being updated on ao3 (cough cough) No warnings this time 1.9k words

Snowflakes fall silently, coating everything around them in a white dust. The wind blows with a crisp chill, nipping at all the rose-pink noses. It sends shivers down the backs of those who dare be out in this weather. The pumpkins and fake graveyard decor that had once littered every home’s front yard has long since been swapped for tinsel garlands and pine wreaths.

The Schmidt residence beams with colored string lights and holiday music. A tall, sturdy evergreen sits patiently by the window. Its branches are decorated with years worth of homemade ornaments, ranging in all size and age from both Mike and Abby. The red skirt beneath it falls relatively empty of presents, only donning the few small ones Mike could afford to buy this year. They’re wrapped pathetically in an old birthday paper, the only wrapping Mike could find to reuse.

Usually, the tree is so full that he’s had to store things in his closet, but that was when you were still a part of their Christmas. Stockings hung happily above the fireplace and a love so innocent it wraps the house in a warm glow. However, it’s void of that feeling now, instead Mike is left to pick up the pieces that you once fit together. Abby doesn’t understand why you don’t come over anymore, or why Mike has been so quiet lately. All she knows is that something went wrong, and now everyone is upset. She’s stopped bringing up your name in conversation when talking to Mike, because it always ends with him withdrawn and retreating to the solidarity of his room.

That didn’t stop her from drawing you, though. Sometimes she’d sit at her desk, tears collecting in the well of her eyes, and doodle old memories of the three of you. She remembers them being happy, but by the time the crayons were set aside and the picture was finished, it was a glum mess of dark blues and frowning faces.

After a drawing is finished she’d slip past Mike’s room, quietly tiptoeing out the front door, and make a break for the house across the street. Your house. She’d work fast, her feet carrying her quickly to and fro. It was unclear from her perspective whether you paid attention to what she’d give you, but by the time she slipped a new piece of paper underneath your door, the old one she had gifted you was gone.

Mike was unaware of it all.

He had found a new job in town where he could bury all his thoughts. It was working construction for a local contractor, a job that certainly wasn’t ideal but it paid better than what he’d been used to. Unfortunately, it required longer hours and ate up all his free time, meaning Abby needed a new babysitter. A job that was once happily filled by your company, now replaced with an afterschool program suggested to him from a flyer he found at work. He hated the thought of her sitting in essentially another classroom, surrounded by strangers and snotty kids, but it was his only option left.

With a third of his paycheck dedicated to it, Abby now spends her weekdays at the nearby YMCA.

The first time he told her about the new program didn’t go over very well. He remembers it clearly.

“Abby please,” his irritated voice interrupts her incessant protesting, “listen, it’s the only place that can watch you.”

“No it’s not!” She yelled at him, her finger pointing to your house across the street, “I want her back!”

A pang of guilt struck his chest at her words. The lack of your presence has clearly been taking a toll on the both of them, but it’s the first time Abby’s ever been so vocal about it. He crossed his arms with a sigh, watching his little sister stare up at him with solemn eyes. Her lip quivering ever so slightly, evident that she’s holding back tears.

He crouches down to her level, just like he had done to you so many nights ago, “I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “but she’s not coming back right now.”

Her head shook with disbelief, stubbornly stuck in her spot, “Then make her come back.”

–

You’re not sure when the Mike shaped hole in your heart stopped aching, but it’s significantly less sore compared to a fresh wound. That’s not to say the constant reminder of him and Abby living across the street from you doesn’t sting. It’s hard enough to ignore all his calls, but trying to get to your car while avoiding his gaze is even worse. Eventually, he gave up on contacting you by the third month of radio silence. It hurt both of you, but you knew deep down neither of you could continue functioning like how you were.

The back and forth pull of his affection took too big of a toll on your mental well being. You can remember every moment down to the exact detail of how much you craved for him to just do something, anything.

All those times you held him in your soft embrace whispering sweet nothings in his ear, reassuring him everything will be okay, just for him to turn around the next day and never bring it up again. Or when you’d run your warm fingers through his hair to calm him down after a panic attack, and he’d let his head rest in your lap. Words of affection dripping off his lips like a rich honey, warming you up from the inside out. Then he’d disappear for a while, claiming he needed some space to figure stuff out, all the while you’d beg and plead for him to tell you what’s on his mind, only for him to give you nothing back.You stood by him regardless though, keeping a silent promise that you’d always be there for him when he needed it, a love that was never reciprocated back.

A long sigh escapes from you, eying the new delivery that just appeared by your door. You shuffle towards it weakly, unsure if you really wanted to torture yourself by looking at it. It’s one of those things that curiosity will drive you to do, unable to ignore it like a pedestrian passing by a car crash. The paper crinkles under your touch, unfolding it reveals the familiar childlike style of Abby’s drawings. A man drawn in green crayon frowns up at you, holding hands with an equally sad looking child. Your gaze drifts over to the other side of the paper, highlighting a person relatively similar to you standing alone with their arms crossed, angry. Your heart hurts at the sight of it, knowing that Abby is implying that you’re angry at the two of them. You shake your head quickly, trying to evade any tears that threaten to spill. It’s not fair for Abby to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Mike, and you realize that.

The sound of your phone ringing breaks your train of thought, and when you check the caller ID your breath hitches. Standing in the middle of your living room frozen with indecisiveness, you stare at the screen while chewing on the bottom of your lip. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello?”

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, and then your name is mumbled out in disbelief.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Mike’s voice is still a little startled, mimicking the internal panic in your chest.

You suck in a deep, steady breath before answering, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” There’s a slight pause from both of you, unsure how to continue the conversation. It’s felt like years since you last heard his voice.

“Are you…doing okay?”

“...Yeah.” Your answer is unconvincing, but Mike doesn’t have any ground to be able to question it. So it’s left like that, timidly dangling in the air between you both.

You hear shuffling in the background, and a smaller voice asking a question before he dismisses it. Your heart lurches thinking about how Abby is there, trying to figure out who her older brother might be on the phone with. It almost makes your cool demeanor crack, urging you back into your savior complex.

“Uh, sorry about that,” your phone crackles back to life, “anyways, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh okay.”

“Can you,” he stops, leaving you on edge, “meet me somewhere?”

The lack of response from you causes him to start rambling, going on about how it would be better to talk in person, and how it would be easier if you could see each other’s expressions. Soon afterwards, a string of apologies ensue, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Okay Mike. Promise me this will be worth it.”

“I promise.”

–

A young waitress stares nervously at your booth. Orders continually piling up, hungry customers giving her rude looks whenever she ignores their impatient huffs. It’s been a good thirty minutes since you first showed, and she’s checked up on you at least a handful of times by now. Mike had suggested this little diner down the street from your house, and you agreed to meet here.

However, it seems like you’re the only one who showed up.

Your back is pressed against the uncomfortable foam board of your seat, a leg bobbing rapidly out of habit. You pick at the pills on your sweatshirt sleeve, trying to avert your gaze from the sympathetic waitress. Prior to your predicament, she had asked if you were dining alone, and you told her no. However, It’s starting to look like you just might be. With anger bubbling inside of you, a voice in the back of your head is saying you should have seen this coming. It’s so typical of Mike to make promises that he’s unwilling to keep.

The air smells like grease, mostly from the old fryers sitting in the back of the kitchen. Oil bubbling and brooding in their tanks, waiting for someone to drop a morsel of food so it could shrivel in the scalding lard. Stomach stirring with disgust, a wave of nausea washes over you. It’s unclear exactly what’s causing it, you’d like to give credit to the sleazy restaurant, but something deep down points to the lack of a certain person’s company.

You keep your attention trained on the dwindling heat of your coffee. Both corners of your mouth scrunch downwards at the smooth ceramic now held in your cold hands. When did watching a cup of coffee become so interesting?

“Would you like some more?” The sweet but timid waitress asks you, now back at her spot beside your table.

A joyless smile flashes across your face, a futile attempt at masking your dejection. Pushing the cup forward, silently accepting a fresh refill from her kettle.

“He’s not worth it.” She adds, tipping off your mug. Her eyes refuse to meet yours as she does so, and you are thankful for that fact.

“No,” you respond back, “he never is, I guess.” Your voice is shaky, as are the hands that are folded in your lap.

Mike is not worth the years of being hurt and pushed away. Not worth the tears that fall after coming home from a night spent at his house, inconsolably sobbing because you know no matter what you do it leads back to the same thing. To give up all your time, love, and patience just to receive nothing in exchange.

It’s not worth the unrequited love.

“Can I have the check please?” You ask quietly, still avoiding the gaze of the girl next you.

Her head shakes with pity, fingers wrapping around the arm of the kettle, “it’s on the house.”

TAGLIST - @wriothesleysbimbo @psbc @victimsofadownn @that1lxnlybxch @callsignwidow

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x y/n #taylor swift #all too well #angst #fnaf

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gimmethatagustd · 6 months

Note

okay I’m here like two business days later with that request because my adhd brain forgot about it lmao

GHOSTFACE!! YOONGI!! I added the picture of yoongi because I had a very ~specific~ yoongi look in mind when thinking of this loll. I’m thinking Halloween party vibes?? or any other way that a costume would make sense. idk I’m making this request late at night so my brain is half turned off. I’m kind of letting you take the reins here and make it as spooky as you feel comfortable with. like I said I’d love to see your take on this because I love your mind <3

You've had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn't know is that he's had his eyes on you, too.

↳ pairing: yoongi x f!reader

↳ wc/date: 1.4k | October 2023

↳ warnings: dubcon, knife play, blood play, yandere vibes, mc is afraid but also turned on, mc is confused and so am i, slut shaming, humiliation, lowkey gaslighting/victim-blaming, a toxic relationship at the least, vaginal fingering, open ending, i wrote this half asleep and without editing

↳ notes: i have no idea what the fuck this is 🥲 pls forgive me. idk how this happened

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? freak - sub urban ft. rei ami

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The wind kicks dry leaves across the sidewalk, swirling them around your feet. Twisting your torso around, you glance over your shoulder as you walk. One of your red stiletto heels falls in the crack between the slabs of concrete. Pain blooms in your ankle when you wobble. The sound of you sucking a breath through your clenched teeth is the only thing disrupting the still, crisp autumn air.

Until you hear it again.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

It sounds like metal on metal, perhaps the jingle of keys or buckles knocking into each other as someone walks.

Alcohol warms your cheeks and chest despite how revealing your red corset and miniskirt are. Still, you know that the sound following you ever since you left Jungkook’s Halloween party is real and not some alcohol-induced paranoia from walking home alone at two in the morning on Halloween.

Jungkook hadn’t wanted you to walk, but finding an Uber so late at night would be impossible, and everyone else at the party had been too drunk to drive you home.

Two blocks isn’t much at all.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The sidewalk is empty when you twist around and try not to trip again. Streetlights cast shadows across the grass that could be people. Or animals. Or monsters. Creatures of the night.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly unlock the gate that opens to wooden stairs leading to the backdoor of your apartment on the second floor. You rush up the stairs as quickly as you can in the stupid heels your best friend convinced you to wear because they’re sexy, and you both thought they might help you catch the eye of a certain boy.

It wasn’t worth the trouble, though. The certain boy barely looked your way.

For a second too long, you stall, fumbling with your keys to find the one that will unlock your backdoor. Your fingers feel numb from the cold, and your reflexes are dulled by whatever was in the punch Hoseok made. Perhaps that’s why you don’t know what looms behind you until its body has yours pressed against your door.

Sticking your hands out, you try to stop yourself from hitting your face. It works, but now your arms are trapped between your body and the door. Your keys fall with a hollow thud, and for a heartbeat, the world is silent, like every creature in existence is holding its breath.

Every creature except for the one crowding you against the door. It breathes, hot and heavy, against the shell of your ear, scattering goosebumps across your skin. You’re burning up from its body heat, the creature big and firmly pressed against every inch of you.

But what makes your knees tremble isn’t the oppressive force of this thing sticking to you like a second skin. It’s the clink and then something cool and sharp pressed against your throat.

You can’t swallow down your nerves without fear of your throat bobbing against what you guess is a large knife.

“Are you scared?” a voice whispers. Soft lips brush the tip of your ear. Then a nose, buttoned and cold, drags along the side of your neck. “You’re being such a good girl, didn’t even scream.”

Fear clutches your heart, but that voice strokes a fire in your core. It’s sick how you shiver against the man’s chest because you know it isn’t only because you’re scared of him.

“You’re not funny, Yoongi,” you say with a shaky breath and do your best not to move too much when you talk.

Yoongi chuckles into your shoulder, where he’s nuzzled his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

The knife glides down your throat at the point with not enough pressure to break the skin but just enough for it to feel uncomfortable.

“Are you gonna let me in?”

It’s not a real knife. Yoongi is your friend; he wouldn’t threaten you. Or, at least, you think he’s your friend. He’d ignored you all night, though.

“Did you seriously follow me all the way here at two in the morning just to scare me?” You elbow him out of the way so you can bend down to retrieve your keys.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admits with a gummy smile.

Inside your apartment, you can get a better look at him. His costume is just his regular clothes with a Ghostface mask, though he isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It’s tied to one of his belt loops. The side bumps against the metal of his belt when he walks.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi’s grin grows. “Jungkook didn’t want you walking by yourself.”

“Then why didn’t you walk with me instead of following me around like a creep?”

You kick off your heels and take ginger steps toward the kitchen, the balls of your feet throbbing. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi shrugs. His pretty black hair falls against his shoulders and curls into his eyelashes when he tilts his head to watch you.

“You knew I was there,” he doesn’t ask, just smiles when you roll your eyes.

Catching your wrist, Yoongi stops you from crossing the living room to the kitchen. His grip on you is bruising when he yanks you into his chest. It’s claustrophobic and makes your stomach churn when you twist your wrist, and Yoongi doesn’t let go.

“I’m thirsty.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, can’t manage to get any louder. “Let me go.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m thirsty, too.”

You follow his eyes when he drops his chin to peer between your bodies. At the same time, you feel the cool edge of the knife drag up your thigh. The tip eventually catches on the edge of your miniskirt. In one swift motion, Yoongi flicks the knife up and cuts through the thin, stretchy fabric. A thin line of blood sprouts from the shallow cut his knife makes up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, watching little dribbles of blood trickle down your leg. Heat spreads from the cut across your thigh and unfurls in your stomach.

The dim lighting of your living room reflects in warm tones within Yoongi’s dark irises. Squeezing your wrist even tighter, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch.

“You liked it,” Yoongi points out with a tut of his tongue, his tone condescending and judgemental. The shame it stirs in your chest makes it hard for you to breathe. “Let me press you up against the door. Mark you up with this,” he twirls the knife around, making a show of how loosely he grasps it.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi brings the knife to your lips to silence you. The tip glistens with your blood.

“Keep quiet like a good girl for me, okay, sweetheart?” Yoongi kneels on the couch in between your spread legs. The position forces your ruined skirt higher up your thighs, exposing your sheer red thong.

You watch in amazement as Yoongi drags the tip of his knife up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your thong. Lightly, he drags the tip along your clothed pussy. It doesn’t cut you, but you can’t stop shaking because it could, and you don't know what that would mean for you if you admitted that you kind of want it to.

“Why are you–”

“Shhh, don’t play so innocent,” Yoongi murmurs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You dressed up so pretty for me. Look so good in red; I wanted to see more of it on you.”

The knife presses against the crease of your inner thigh and slices upward, giving you another shallow cut while cutting you loose from your thong.

You moan when Yoongi drags his cold fingers along your folds, dig your nails into his forearm when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and makes your muscles flutter.

“So wet for me, fuck, you’re such a slut,” Yoongi moans as your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers despite the press of the bloodied blade against your throat.

"Yoongi, please," you buck into his hand, urging him to fuck you faster. Your thighs sting from the cuts, and your legs are wet with little streams of blood, but you've never felt so close to an orgasm so quickly in your life.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jai asks #souryoong #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #ash!#halloween 2023 #ghostface killers

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 11 months

Text

Cod Men in a Dating Sim

Requested: No

Warnings: Light bit of angst

A/N: Did I watch a bunch of (and by that I mean 3) dating games just so I could get inspiration for this? ……Maybe

Ghost - The Punk/Goth Guy

By far the hardest and most frustrating character to romance, Ghost’s route leaves even the most seasoned completionist in tears. People who attempt to do playthroughs of the game won’t even attempt it, and much of his route is virtually unknown. His trust is hard won and easily lost, even the tiniest of mistakes will affect your whole game with him, to the point that you could very well lose all progress with him at any point. There have been demands and petitions for the devs to change his route, calling him stupidly difficult, not worth the effort it takes. Oh but those select few who get to peek behind the curtain? Those that get to woo him and make him blush, who truly hold his heart? They’re in love, will defend him and his horrible jokes and his sad boi personality until they die.

Soap - The Himbo Jock

Soap, the cheerful and upbeat type. Always doing some sort of high energy sport in his free time, his happiness infecting you everytime you two cross paths, his smile only growing bigger every time you both talk. He always wants to be doing something with you, his arm around your waist, loud and happy and brighter than the sun. Doesn’t matter what type of activity you like doing, he wants to be doing it with you. His route is the easiest to get through and his charm draws in all kinds of people, making him almost unanimously loved through the fandom of the game. To the point that people recommending the game always say that you should start with his route first. He’s kind of the poster boy of the whole game at this point.

König - The Shy Guy

König, the sweet librarian at your local library, always so kind but painfully shy when you try and talk to him. Books almost always clutched to his chest, twiddling his thumbs and ducking his head with a blush rising under his mask if you make even the slightest attempt to get close to him, an absolute mess if you flirt with him. He’s the adorable sweetheart of the game that, even if you don’t want to romance him, is just nice and adorable in general. But when you really get into his route, he is so flirty. Granted it’s only when he thinks you can’t hear (unaware that he has literal subtitles telling you what he says). And he gets so protective, always offering to walk you everywhere and just generally tending to stick around you and show you all sorts of things he enjoys, always eager when you return the favor and show him your own favorite things.

Alejandro - The Flirt

Alejandro likely met you through your mutual friend in the game, Rudy. Coming to visit his old pal and meets you at his home, instantly all over you, suave flirtations leaving his lips every other second as he tries to get you alone every chance he can get, much to Rudy’s annoyance. At first it’s a bit of a game, just another blip in the back of his mind, nothing serious. But as time goes on, it becomes more and more serious, more genuine. His advances start to become a bit softer but now carry real feelings in them. He’s a character that many think is too sleazy at first but come to adore him and his sweet nature as you progress through his route. He’s not as loved of a character as Soap but he is in the top three, tied with Rudy.

Rudy - The Best Friend

Rudy. Sweet adorable lovable Rudy. He is the character who plays the role of the best friend with the long time crush. Very poorly hidden crush by the way. He’s never very bold with his words but his actions communicate his feelings very well. He’s always happy to talk to you, and even listens to you if you’re trying to romance another character and something goes awry. It hurts him but he puts on a good act, even if he distances a bit from you upon learning of your feelings for a different character. His sweet and supportive personality is why he ties with Alejandro in the top three favorites, and many adore him and enjoy repetitively romancing him, never seeming to get bored of finding all his secrets.

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the-wrong-providence · 1 year

Text

To Date a Criminal

Bucky Barnes X Celebrity!F!Reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Summary: Bucky’s history is a problem to some of Y/N’s fans

Author’s note: This is more angsty than I originally intended, but life is a shitty mess so there’s no point sugar coating it lmao. Unedited. Didn’t know what to call it, so this is what I landed with.

"A-list celebrity Y/N Y/L/N is speculated to be romantically involved with ex-assassin James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. A lot of people believe that Barnes should be convicted of the numerous murders that he committed over the course of the Cold War, but Y/L/N seems to have no issue flaunting her criminal boyfriend on every platform she has a voice. The 108-year-old man was once a close friend to Capt-" Sam turned the TV off. Bucky stared at the blank screen for a little longer, before swallowing heavily and looking down. Sam wanted to say something but struggled to find the words.

Bucky sighed. "This is fucked," he said after a moment. He appeared to be fairly calm about it, before he slammed his fist down on the table, leaving a small dent in the wood. "What the fuck?" He shouted out, as Sam crossed his arms.

"Buck, you know better than to listen to that shit," he said. Bucky turned to him, shaking his head.

"It's not about me listening to them." He started. "Y/N is being attacked. Even if she doesn't agree, her entire reputation is at stake, for dating me. They're calling me a murderer for fucks sake." Bucky ran his hand through his hair. Sam sighed. Of course, he didn't care what people thought about him. He'd been receiving death threats and insults daily since returning from Wakanda, he was used to it. "She has every reason to leave me. She'd be an idiot not to." He mumbled, turning away from Sam.

Sam sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. But something he’d come to realise is that both Bucky and Y/N were complete dumbasses when together. “Just, talk to her, man,” He replied, leaving Bucky to stew by himself.

He sipped his drink slowly, hearing the door slam close and a loud sigh. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to deal with today,” She said, throwing her coat onto the back of a dining chair. She bent over the sofa and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “The guy who was interviewing us made some sexist comments before we even began, so we just knew it was going to be a long session,” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa beside him. “It was really tempting to just walk out on multiple occasions, but apparently I needed a better reason,”

Bucky grinned quickly, before placing his glass on the coffee table. "Baby, we need to talk," He began. Y/N looked at him and her eyes narrowed in confusion. She couldn’t read his expression at all. Her face fell when she realised that his smile had disappeared.

"What about?" She asked cautiously. Her heart sped up.

Bucky took a deep breath. "You need to break up with me," he said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. Everything was going well. She really liked Bucky and she thought he felt the same for her. "I don't understand. I don't want to." She said.

"And I don't want to either. But people are calling me a murderer." Bucky looked at her finally, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. She let out a deep exhale, relieved that she’d not done anything to upset him.

It took her a moment to think her way around his comment. "But you're not a murderer, and I don’t care what people say," She replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Bucky smiled softly. Y/N was brazen, just one of the many things he liked about her. “Sweetheart,” He started, “I’m not worth ending your career over,”

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. Whilst she held the belief that he very much was worth it, she didn’t want to admit that now. Not if things were going to end. “Do you want this to end?” She asked. He was fairly insistent.

Bucky seemed taken aback. “No, god no, you have no idea how much I don’t want this to happen. But you have to do the smart thing here. You can’t stay with me,”

“I don’t care. I’m not ending this.” She said indignantly.

Bucky rubbed his forehead. Fuck, he loved her stubbornness sometimes, but it was not helping right now. “Your reputation-”

“I’m not worried about my stupid reputation! I couldn’t give less of a shit about it!” She shouted back and Bucky stared at her. She exhaled heavily and furrowed her eyebrows. “The only thing I’m worried about is you, Buck,”

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned away. “Well, that’s really not convenient. Because I worry about you and the way people treat you and the way everyone sees you. And you not giving a shit about that sort of thing really makes my job a lot harder,” He replied, and Y/N smiled.

She pulled his face back in her direction, and her hand fell to rest on his chest. Pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’d leave everything behind to stop you from worrying,” She admitted and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re crazy if you think I’d let you,” He raised his eyebrows, but grinned, all the same, leaning in to kiss her again.

She pouted at him. “I’m starting to think that you want me to be famous more than I care for it,” She joked.

“Not famous. Successful. I want you to do well, and I like seeing you get the recognition you deserve. I need people to love you as much as I… love you,” He paused at the last words, and looked down, hoping she didn’t notice.

But of course, she did. She’d been waiting to hear those words for weeks now. She stared at him, noticing the slight pink tinge that was creeping up his neck. “Buck,” She began. “I love you too,”

He looked up at her, searching for any hint of a lie. It had been a while since someone had said those words to him and meant it. As if she could tell, she took hold of his wrist and directed his hand to feel her heartbeat. “I love you,” She said again, smiling at him.

“And if you still think we should break up, then you’re the crazy one. Especially after that super romantic admission of your love for me,” she stated, grinning at him as his cheeks tinged pink. He looked down, but his small smile was very much evident.

He sighed. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it,” He said back, as Y/N giggled. She kissed him again, and Bucky’s hand moved to hold her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I love you,” He murmured in the space between them, their foreheads resting against each other.

One of the downsides of being a celebrity was having to maintain a social presence. As a result, Y/N had to attend several red carpets that she had no real investment in. This particular time, Y/N was being interviewed by someone from some media outlet that she was unfamiliar with. The questions had strayed from anything remotely related to the public perception of her boyfriend.

“Bucky is not a murderer,” Y/N scowled at the person interviewing her. Her dating life was noones business at the best of times, but it was entirely inappropriate to discuss this right now.

The interviewer smirked at the rise they were getting. “He was one of the worlds most wanted criminals. He’s credited with at least two dozen high-target assassinations. He’s responsible for the Avengers breaking up back in 2016…”

Y/N stared daggers at the interviewer, and their face fell as they noticed. They stopped talking and swallowed heavily. “Bucky is not a murderer. He was given a pardon which has forgiven him-”

“Implying that there was something to forgive.” The interviewer interrupted “Why do you think it’s ok to date a war criminal?” They added.

Y/N lips parted in surprise. “You know what? I don’t have to deal with this. If people have a problem with who I love then that’s their issue. I do not have to listen to you insult my partner.” She snapped back, before storming off to the bathroom.

On her way there, a hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her away. Looking up, she saw Bucky beaming at her. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” He held his arms around her waist. His face fell when he saw her look in her eyes. “What’s happened? Are you ok?” his first instinct was to check her over for any injuries.

Instantly she let her tears fall and leant against him. “Why do people have to be assholes?” She bawled out. Bucky hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He held her tight, letting her cry into his chest.

“What did they say?” He growled, angry that anyone would have the gall to insult his girl. He looked around to determine whos fault it was. If anyone seemed even remotely guilty for the upset that they’d caused, but everyone seemed fairly content with themselves.

She sniffed quietly. “They were being so rude about you! I had to leave the interview,” She replied, and Bucky seemed taken aback. They’d insulted him and she was distraught.

He held her at arms length and looked at her, lowering his head so that she was staring directly into his eyes. “There are always gonna be assholes in the world, but you walking away from them in that situation helps people realise. You are so incredibly brave for walking outside your door every day when you know what people have said about me. And for that I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I’m honored to have a place in your heart.” He said sincerely, desperate to calm her down.

“But you have to promise me that you will not give these people a place. Please don’t let them hurt you. Don’t take these shots that are meant for me,” He added, caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, but seemed to smile. “Buck, I would take actual bullets for you,” She said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Bucky chuckled. “Very unwise. Bullets hurt like hell. And you’d be taking a lot of them,” He bantered back. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I love you sweetheart,” He smiled.

Y/N exhaled heavily, smiling back. “I love you too,” she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do you wanna come with me?”

He looked at her, confused as to what she meant. “Back onto the carpet? What about the interviews?”

She grinned. “Maybe you can do some staring if they piss me off.” She giggled.

Immediately he seemed excited. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me!”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #angst #marvel #oneshot

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techmomma · 10 months

Text

whilst I am sick in bed, I want to put something out here before things start getting wild with conspiracy theories about this whole submersible debacle. because I think we will start seeing a lot of conspiracy theories starting up. some irrational, but some rational!

also note that I have no educated experience on these matters, just 33 years of living and a special interest in both the titanic and maritime disasters. so take everything with a grain of salt(water).

and while yes, if they’re dead, I genuinely think every navy and coast guard already knows and has known since like the first three hours since the sub went missing, I also genuinely do not think this was out of malicious or subversive intent, or trying to hide some big secret, and I will explain why:

underwater explosions/implosions make a very characteristic sound. this is called a bubble pulse: multiple booms being the result of initial explosion, followed by water pressure collapsing the gas bubble.

the major powers of the world, certainly the US with SOSUS/IUSS, have underwater listening stations. this is a system of underwater hydrophones and listening devices originally meant to track soviet submarine activity and underwater nuclear tests. this system was already quite powerful in the 60s, and its capabilities by now in the 2020s are classified but likely even moreso powerful. this is not me saying THEY’RE LISTENING TO US AND PUTTING TRACKERS IN US this is me saying “by the early 90s they could track a single whale over the entire Pacific for several years.”

if the submersible imploded--and I am leaning toward it not being built well enough to withstand four days of 375 atmospheres worth of pressure--then this was almost undoubtedly heard by listening stations across the atlantic

so why not tell the public?

despite having declassified much of the program, SOSUS/IUSS still has many parts that remain classified. to reveal that they heard the implosion would be to also reveal potentially delicate information such as station positions (figuring out WHERE a classified station might be based on the fact that it picked up the sound, and figuring out the minimum capabilities of such a system).

we’re already in kind of a weird proxy war with the Russians, again, so the government’s paranoia about not letting anything leak to them Russkies is, again, at an all-time high. I will state though that classified information is actually like, at the bottom of my list of “reasons why they may not have said anything immediately.”

this is an incredibly... unique situation. while I have no doubt they heard the implosion, they may not have been able to concretely confirm that it was an implosion, and an implosion of a civilian submersible, until after the story of the missing sub had already gotten out to the public. one of those “it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck so I’m pretty sure it was a goddamn duck, but I technically need to run tests to make 100% certain that it was in fact a duck, because if I’m wrong that could mean big trouble.”

in addition, to 100% confirm an implosion, typically the debris field has to be actually spotted on the sea floor, in addition to all the previous criteria being met. they have been trying to find a debris field... in a bigger, messier debris field.

they need to do this, because if there’s even a .0000000001% chance that they are still alive and you left them for dead, that would be... bad, for a lot of reasons

because the debris field has not been found and there IS a .0000001% chance that they could be alive, they still need to TREAT it as a rescue operation. this is standard procedure for like. everywhere.

even if they WERE still alive, they were going to die. every rescue party out there right now knows this. just planning to recover debris from that depth often takes months if not years of planning, let alone a sub about to run out of air in four days, max. in these situations, where the rescuers know the victims are alive but will, without fail, die, you have to still TREAT IT as if they are able to be saved (while also, quietly, making sure no one else is going to be further hurt). for the sake of the victims, their families, and the public at large. for the basic dignity of the victims. yes, out of compassion.

a comparable situation is when an EMT arrives to the scene of a traffic accident and knows, immediately, that this person, while not technically dead, is absolutely not going to make it. the EMT is still going to attempt to do everything they can to save that person, for their dignity and for the slim chance that maybe, by some miracle, they can help. you don’t give up until you know they’re actually dead. this is standard procedure and also like. a basic human compassion thing.

this is also likely why, if you’ve been watching any news about this, we’ve not seen any illustrations of “potential ways to rescue the sub,” or how authorities think they might do it, only diagrams and illustrations of where the sub might be or the depth it might be at. ideas have been floated around, but nothing concrete. because there is nothing concrete. at least, that’s what I’ve seen but that’s probably confirmation bias.

so yeah. in the coming days or years or whatever, I think it’ll come out that rescuers have known all along what happened and kept that little part quiet. but I also think it’s for the most boring, mundane reasons possible: standard procedure technicalities and human compassion while having to navigate a sticky situation between the media and the public.

#oceangate #titanic #submersible

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thebetawolfgirl · 5 months

Note

Could you do one where the reader and Timmy are co stars and the leading roles in WONKA and they’re doing press tour and stuff and the whole internet ships them but he’s dating Kylie. Kylie and y/n had something like big beef years ago , so when she finds out that Kylie is attending their wonka premiere, she decides to stop press tour completely , I just like some drama idk and I love your writinggg 🤍🤍

A/N: This isn’t my best work but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! Thank you so much for all your support!!!

Dream Come True

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff and a little bit of angst.

Dream come True

Y/n met Timmy when they were cast as the leading roles in the new movie ‘Wonka’ telling the origin story of the famous Chocolatier Willy Wonka and they hit it off right away. They spent nearly every day together between takes talking about movies, literature and food, they would debate art and history, Timmy was intelligent and had a certain view of the world she had never seen in anyone else her age. He was sensitive and had passion, he was also very giving with his fans, he would stand and talk to them and listen to them. It was during Covid so he couldn’t get too close to anyone on the outside, which meant the only people they both saw was the rest of the cast and each other.

She stayed with him when he came back to work after his grandmother passed away as he lay in her arms breaking his heart. They had become close.

When Covid ended and he was able to do press finally for Dune, she sent him a quick message to wish him good luck and he replied with a heart emoji.

Now it was 2023 and they were finally able to do a bit of press for Wonka together, they were excited to talk about this project finally, everyone adored them together and the internet was shipping them together already, but of course he had already been spotted out with Kylie Jenner. Much to y/n’s disapproval, she didn’t like the girl but she had no right to tell Timmy who he should be dating. It wasn’t her business.

Timmy noticed how y/n would become distant with him whenever they were together and Kylie showed up, he didn’t like it. He hated not having y/n around him, he knew she and Kylie had a history long ago but he didn’t think she would completely distance herself from him. After his beloved grandmother passed away she was like his rock keeping him anchored as he drowned in his grief, now that Kylie was constantly around him, she wasn’t. And it was making him antsy, so much so in fact when she bailed out of one of their many press interviews for Wonka everyone around him could tell he was agitated because y/n wasn’t by his side. She claimed she had fallen unwell and lost her voice from all the talking and was taking a break.

When she came back he was fine again and back to his usual chatty goofy self.

When it came closer for the world premiere for Wonka in LA Timmy’s management came to him and said Kylie would be joining him on the red carpet for at least two of the premiers and he sighed burying his face in his hands.

He heard through the wall in the next suite y/n going crazy after hearing the news.

‘Is she that fucking desperate for attention that she needs to go to a premier for a children’s movie?! Talk about fucking creep factor! Will she be in the Chanel commercial too, or is this the only thing of Timothée’s she wants to destroy with her existence?’

She was so upset and furious. She sent Kylie a text telling if this movie flopped because of her, she would make her life a living Hell then turned off her phone. She told her publicist to send for her car, she was done with the whole tour and she was going home.

She saw Timmy’s agent in the hallway looking at her with regretful eyes and stormed past his shoulder. ‘I hope this little act was worth the money, she’s going to destroy his career he’s worked so hard for.’ She walked to the elevator and left without saying goodbye to any of the cast or to Timmy.

Timmy had been doing publicity work when he heard about y/n leaving and walking away from the rest of the tour and was devastated.

But when the night of the premiere arrived and y/n was nowhere to be seen he asked around thinking maybe she was just running late, but when his publicist told him with a nervous air that y/n had pulled out of coming to the premier as well as the tours Timmy went pale feeling himself falling back.

He felt Hugh and Olivia grab his arms lowering him into the chair as someone went to get him a glass of water, he buried his face between his legs as he felt his chest tighten.

He needed y/n here, he needed to see her face when the noise got to much for him she was the only one who could calm his nerves with her soothing words. She wasn’t happy about Kylie he knew that, she told him countless times that he could do so much better than her, he deserves so much better than her.

It was always her though, Timmy realised as he drank his water.

The premier came and went he did the whole arm around Kylie looking in love charade, when really he couldn’t stand her. The longer he looked at her the more his stomach turned. How had he not seen how fake this woman was, how vapid! No wonder he couldn’t think straight after being with her, it wasn’t lust his brain cells were dying, gasping out for some sort of stimulation.

No wonder after every conversation with Kylie he would call y/n to just to contradict her about something she said just to rile her up and have a healthy debate with her.

After the premier he ditched Kylie and locked himself in his hotel room and tried to call y/n but the phone just rang out, so he tried to message her and it said her phone was now switched off. He tried to Skype her on his laptop but that was disconnected. He slammed his laptop down getting annoyed, if she thought she could ignore him and he would just leave her alone she was wrong. He changed into his sweats and his hoodie with his baseball cap and grabbed his car keys before sneaking out of the hotel.

He knew where she lived, he remembered her telling him how she had inherited her grandfather’s ranch where she grew up as a little girl. It was out in the California countryside, a place surrounded by beautiful trees and mountains. It was still light for some reason, LA he guessed rolling his eyes. He drove along the road and he knew he was getting close when the desert become more leafy and he was suddenly surrounded by autumn trees, he smiled and came to farmlands and turned into a beautiful driveway dusted with fallen leaves and fenced off grasslands for the horses to graze on, he looked out his window and saw the stunning backdrop of mountains and and greenery.

He parked outside the house and got out of his car. His fancy wheels looked stupid in these surroundings. He looked around in amazement taking everting in, from the fresh air around him to the house and the huge mountains in the background and the horses grazing in the fields beyond. He couldn’t believe he was still in California. Maybe, Montana or somewhere in Arizona.

He understood why y/n loved this place so much, what happy memories she must have made here with her grandparents, he turned as he heard the door open and out she stepped looking at him. Dear God she was stunning, he had saw her all glammed up and he saw her all messy and covered in chocolate and mud and he had even saw her in her pyjamas when he showed up at her hotel room late one night, but he had never saw her like this.

She was wearing a pair of old torn jeans, covered in some sort of white stuff like powder, she must have been baking, and an off the shoulder knit sweater and her light brown hair was in a messy side braid. Her bangs were whipping around her face, as she walked up to him shoving her hands in her pockets.

‘Timmy? What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the after party?’

‘I’m sorry, I am so so sorry. I was a total dick to you!’ He blurted out before he could stop himself and she blinked at him.

He looked around, spreading his arms wide ‘This just proves my theory!’

She smiles stepping closer to him ‘What theory is that?’

‘That you’re definitely an angel, because this,’ he gestures around him. ‘This is Heaven!’

She smiles watching him look around him.

‘I could see myself spending my out my life here,’ he looked her in the eyes ‘With you. I could see me spending my life here with you.’

She takes a deep breath looking at him. ‘Is that what you came all the way out here to tell me?’

‘No, actually I drove out here to confront you about ignoring me tonight and argue with you. Tell you, Plato was an idiot and the Yankees suck ass!’

She glared before raising her eyebrow looking at him ‘And now?’

He sighed shoving his hands in his pockets ‘Well I can’t very well yell at you now.’

‘The Yankees are a great team by the way.’

He scoffed rolling his eyes and she raised her eyebrows. ‘Because the Knicks did so great this season?’

‘Hey! They did their best okay!’

‘My ass they did their best!’ She turned and walked back towards the house and he followed her immediately almost automatically.

He closed the door behind him and stepped inside the cozy house and looked around, there were family photos of different generations scattered along the wall, he saw a picture of y/n in her graduation robes holding her diploma.

‘What did you study?’

‘Before becoming an actor I wanted to work with animals. So I studied veterinary science.’

‘Wow.’ He muttered under his breath as he looked at all of the family photos and saw a picture of a young girl on a horse holding a large trophy.

‘Hey who’s the little girl on the horse with the trophy?’ He called to her in the kitchen.

‘Oh that’s me. I came in first place in the equestrian event. My papa was so proud that he was actually crying.’ She came back with two bottles of his favourite beer and handed him one, smiling at the photos. He watched her closely as he sipped his beer ‘What was your grandfather like?’

She looked at him and smiled ‘You’re the first person to ever ask me what he was like.’

He smiled and waited. ‘He was always smiling, always singing. He liked putting the radio and dancing with grandma around the kitchen. He taught me how to dance too.’ She looked up at Timmy smiling before frowning ‘When grandma died he was never the same again, I think a little bit of him died when she did. The thing that killed him most, I think was that none of the family came to the funeral. I skipped school and took a bus using my lunch money to go. All the other families from the neighbouring ranches came but her own children didn’t come. I moved in here after graduation, I told my parents to stay away, invited my grandpa instead. Haven’t spoken to them since his funeral eight years ago.’

She sighed as Timmy listened intently without interrupting. He knew she had been keeping this bottled up for years. All of the love and pride she felt for her grandparents, the hurt and the shame of her family not paying their respects and her total determination with her loyalty towards her grandparents. No wonder the old man left his entire life to his granddaughter. She was the only who cared enough to stay.

‘I’m sorry y/n.’ He wrapped his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

‘Your parents sound like assholes. If you don’t mind me saying.’

She shook her head closing her eyes and smirked ‘Not at all. You’re right on the dot. They are assholes. When I made it to the big time they contacted me, wanting to ‘make amends’ I told them to go fuck themselves. After how they treated my grandparents I’m not interested.’

She turned to him and buried her head in his chest wrapping her arms around his waist ‘You’re actually the first person I’ve ever told that story.’

He was shocked as he wrapped his arms around her back he had heard she wasn’t the most trusting person. In fact he heard rumour about how hard she was to work with, she wasn’t good at taking orders and she barely spoke to anyone on set. But Timmy had seen her with fans, she would spend ages with the kids and the elderly, she always made sure was allowed the same lunch hour the actors had. She remembered the names of crew members asking one how their daughter enjoyed her first day of school, she even asked one of his grandmother was getting better.

He took her over to the couch and sat down with her holding her close as she lay against his chest.

He would break it off with Kylie, he didn’t care if he had to pay a big fine for terminating the contract, it would be worth it if he could be with y/n.

The fact that he could already hear the echo of their children running around the house and eventually their grandchildren, was huge. He never envisioned his future with anyone before. But with y/n, he saw himself spending the rest of his life on this ranch with this kind, beautiful woman and one day their children.

Y/n looked up seeing Timmy lost in thought and reached up to kiss his jaw, ‘penny for your thoughts?’

He looked down at her and blinked at feeling her lips on his skin ‘I don’t want to freak you out or scare you.’

She reached up and kissed his jawline again ‘You won’t, please tell me.’

‘I was thinking about our future. A-and I was picturing our children and our grandchildren running all about this house.’

He blushed and looked down and she sat on his lap lifting his face to make him look at her. ‘Are we married or do we live like hippies?’ She smiled and pecked his lips before he deepened the kiss leaning forward. ‘No, we’re definitely married until we’re old and grey, and calling the cops on each other because we can’t remember who the other one is.’ She laughed against his lips at his strange narrative of their future, she pulled away before standing and taking his hand to guide him upstairs to her bedroom.

They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but they were ready for whatever would be thrown their way. They met on a movie based on following your dreams, and they ended up being each other’s dream come true!

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamess

@mel-vaz

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timmy x reader #timothée chalamet #angst with a happy ending #timothee chalamet fluff

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hyperfixat · 1 year

Text

hai tumblr here is a 600~ (i think) word work w levi and mammon being jealous little demons mwahaha

The lines between Greed and Envy blur.

Greed is the selfish desire for something that is not needed or deserved. Envy is the desire to possess that which others have, and you do not.

Mammon and Leviathan had a… rocky relationship before you came to the Devildom. Levi, always chasing Mammon for the money he owes; Mammon attempting to mend his debts with anime merch. It works, most of the time, but a cycle is cylindrical.

Then in comes crashing the silly little human exchange student. Nothing special, nothing grand, but oh so perfect.

You acted as a caveat on Levi’s side when you took Mammon’s first pact. A pay me back or else mwahaha, for Levi.

Now, listen hard, listen close, Mammon didn’t have to make that pact with you. You realized this. He’s fast. The fastest brother in the house by far. You know he could have snatched his precious Goldie and ran, and you and Levi would be back at square one.

But he didn’t.

Forming the pact brought on a new side of Mammon, one you suspect you’re the first to see since his Celestial Realm days.

He’s warm, and soft, and always there. A little birdie following you around all day. Really, you don’t know how his brothers don’t think he’s an absolute sweetheart.

And after the TSL incident, Levi switched up on you, it was slow at first, but he let his guard drop, and bore his heart.

Mammon loves you; Mammon needs you. You’re everything and more to him.

Leviathan loves you; Leviathan trusts you. He would give you the world.

When Greed and Envy battle, it is not pretty. Two petulant children fighting over a toy.

It began small, as most things do, ‘MC, stay with me’, ‘MC, don’t go,’ ‘MC, don’t invite him.’

But it grew.

It grew and grew and grew until it exploded in a catastrophic hurricane.

Both in demon form, Leviathan and Mammon hold defensive stances, poised against each other. Levi’s tongue periodically flicks out, long and serpent like.

Mammon’s mouth is parted and his breaths are large and slow, while his fang filled mouth glints in the dim Devildom moonlight.

They circle you, but their sights are set on each other.

“Leave them alone, Leviathan,” Mammon snarls. “They don’t want you.”

“As if they’d take a scumbag like you over the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. I am far more competent than you, they’ll be happier with me.”

You’ve never seen Levi like this, normal shy, otaku persona melted away to an older version of himself. The him that held himself high as an Avatar, the him that rules the seas.

(It’s kinda hot, but they’re about to tear the other apart, so that needs to be shoved aside for now.)

“As if,” Mammon scoffs and spits the drool pooling in his mouth. “You can’t act all confident forever, snake. They’ll remember what a loser you are and come running to me.”

Levi bristles and his serpentine tail flicks wildly behind him. His orange eyes flicker into slits for a moment.

“MC, dear heart,” his focus lands on you as his eyes revert. “You’d choose me right?”

“Treasure, don’t fall for it, you know I love ya more than he ever will.”

“Guys,” it’s shaky and pathetic, so you clear your throat and try again. “I love you both, very much. I can’t choose between you.”

“You have to,” Levi frowns.

“It’s not hard, I’m obviously the right choice here, doll.” Mammon’s near hysteric.

Your eyes sting and your frown tugs deeper, “please don’t make me choose.”

Leviathan growls low in his throat, glaring at Mammon. Mammon returns it, eyes flicking between you and Levi.

“Please?”

Mammon has the hardest time denying you anything, out of all the brothers he’s the weakest for you.

“MC,” a whine leaves him.

Levi, sensing the mood shift, ceases his growls. “Share you?”

Greed and Envy are not good at sharing. They both want and want to solely have. But sometimes, there is middle ground that makes stasis worth the while.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc

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petit-etoile · 6 months

Note

A drabble idea for thee! I always thought when Tav/the MC steps closer during the Mirror Scene with Astarion that they were going to very gently touch his face while they describe what they see to him and he'd be doing his very best not to break into pieces since he's never had someone do that for him, to touch him with so much kindness without expecting anything from him in return.

my heart (part of you lives here)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 1,237 content warnings: i had this song by mitski on repeat the entire time & i fear that it is a mandatory listen other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, developing relationship, getting together, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia be added to the taglist here

summary:

‘What?’ Astarion asks, voice soft.

‘I see you,’ you tell him. ‘Let me be your mirror. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’

You step forward and stare into his eyes, taking in every detail of his face. Astarion may not have aged physically since turning, but he certainly lives a life worth telling. You can see who he is by every detail that has been etched on his face by years of service. His pale, full eyebrows. His round, honest eyes. You must’ve caught him off-guard. He only looks like this when he’s caught unaware.

Carefully, without moving too quickly, you slide both of your hands over the shape of his cheeks, holding him still. You can tell he wants to run away — His eyes dart back and forth all over the place, looking anywhere but at you — but he stays still at your tender touch, eyebrows pulling together in concern. You rub your thumbs against his cheekbones encouragingly, tilting his head from side to side to appraise his features. You hum appreciatively and touch the mole near his eye tenderly.

‘What?’ Astarion asks, voice soft.

Astarion doesn’t mean to do it. He drops his haughty façade in exchange for something more vulnerable, chin dropping so he can meet your eyes. You slide your thumbs against the dark circles beneath his eyes and smile. He scowls immediately, but it doesn’t frighten you. Perhaps it should.

‘I see you,’ you tell him. ‘Let me be your mirror. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’

Your voice shakes slightly. You both pretend it doesn’t.

‘ — What do you see when you look at me?’ Astarion asks.

You’re a little distracted by how his teeth peek out from behind his lips when he talks, but you steady yourself for his sake. You wonder if you should move your hands away. You don’t want to. You like looking at him.

‘You have strong, piercing eyes,’ you say quietly. ‘When you’re not as hungry, they shine brighter. When you are, they’re darker.’

His lips press into a firm line. ‘What else?’

The words slip out faster than you can think about them. ‘You’re pretty.’

‘Pretty?’

‘Your eyes crinkle when you laugh,’ you say, swallowing. ‘Laughing suits you. It lights up your whole face. Laughing makes you look your age.’

Astarion snorts, but it isn’t derisive. For all his love of attention, the more you study his face, the reclusive he seems to get. His eyes aren’t so penetrative now, and they’re more round the more you indulge him in his vanity.

‘What else?’ he pesters.

You slide your hands lower until you’re cradling his jaw. You push your thumb beneath his bottom lip and watch as he pouts. You’re trying so hard to focus, but he smells so handsomely and he’s so intoxicating that you struggle to keep yourself grounded.

‘You have a dangerous smile,’ you tell him. ‘Sometimes when you grin, one side of your mouth lifts higher than the other. Your teeth show, but it’s not… scary to me. You have a nice smile and… and… your jaw is very nice.’

Astarion snorts again and rolls his eyes, but he no longer seems achingly desperate for a perfect description. He grabs your wrists and leans in closer, showing you one side of his face and then the other, preening for your compliments and attention. He draws you in without even intending to. You stumble closer, and now that you’re worried, you try to move your hands out of your intense fear they might get sweaty from you being so nervous. He holds you still.

‘You’ve practiced looking disheveled,’ you whisper, throat tightening. ‘Your hair is…’ You change your mind. ‘Do a spin for me. Let me see the whole picture. Please.’

Astarion laughs — a loud babbling brook kind of laughter that makes you dizzy. He releases you then in order to twirl for you demurely. He looks at you from beneath his thick eyelashes and flutters them, biting shyly at his lip. It’s so very rehearsed that you can’t help but laugh as well, looking away. You touch your own cheeks and nearly cringe at how warm they are.

‘You’re very beautiful, but — ’

‘But!’ he interrupts.

‘But,’ you insist, ‘you’re Astarion!’

He gasps and looks positively debauched. He presses a hand over his chest and pretends to be wounded, winding down to the chair next to his little table. He waves you over and insists that you join him on the floor, and then it’s his turn to lean forward inquisitively. One small mistake and your noses would bump into one another. You wish a foul wind would blow and knock him over so that you could kiss him without embarrassing yourself.

You cross your legs and lounge on his decorative cushion, stretching out your spine and failing to dislodge a rather painful knot you can feel forming in your lower back from all the climbing and roaming. You distract yourself with a loose thread on his rug and try to smooth it back down in the crevice where it goes.

‘Now what did you mean by that, my dear?’ Astarion asks, nudging you with his foot. ‘That I’m Astarion.’

You close your eyes. ‘Oh, you know that you’re pretty,’ you say, grabbing his ankle before he can flee. ‘I’ve seen you bloody and muddy, and wet and ragged, and you’re still very pretty.’

‘Prettier than Shadowheart?’

‘So you think Shadowheart is pretty?’

Astarion whines and jostles his leg free from your grip. ‘Forgive me if I fish for attention,’ he complains. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had this much fun.’

‘I think you’re the prettiest,’ you say with a shrug. ‘Prettier than anyone else in camp, except maybe Withers.’

You’re grateful that Astarion’s mood seems to have turned over. He’s not the easiest to always get along with and sometimes he’s so broody that you’re not sure how to navigate his moods, but you’re learning.

You both talk and laugh for a little longer about whatever comes to mind — You talk about Shadowheart’s make-up and Karlach’s morning workout routine, and how Wyll always stretches during daybreak and that it’s cute Lae’zel tries so hard to join him in order to entice him, and that Scratch permanently chooses to wake up Gale before anyone else is relieving because it means you get to sleep for a few hours more. You only realize how late it is when you turn your head and notice everyone has snuffed out their lanterns and candles. You bite the inside of your cheek and mourn the fact that you must go so soon.

‘I should go,’ you say ruefully.

‘You should stay,’ Astarion disagrees. ‘Come, stay in my tent for the night. You should get to use my things since I’m the one who forced you to stay awake past your bedtime. That bedroll looks awfully uncomfortable from here.’

‘Where will you sleep?’ you ask, suddenly reserved.

‘Next to you,’ he says, ‘or outside if you’d prefer. I could keep watch.’

‘ — next to me is fine,’ you tell him.

‘Good,’ Astarion says, smiling. ‘Let me be selfish if it means I get to look at you. I’ll return the favor, you know. Let you know about your eyes and smile next long rest. It’s the least I could do.’

You’re too nervous to sleep that night and he knows it. But come the next long rest, Astarion tells you every detail about your face and you understand, with overwhelming gravity, what you have done for him.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one #WHAT IF I SAID #THIS ONE WAS SO SELF-INDULGENT #I WAS TWIRLING MY HAIR SWINGING MY FEET GIGGLING #the mirror scene has me so down bad i can't even lie about it

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ghosts-bandwagon · 9 months

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Hii👋 I wanted to request where ghost meets his girlfriend little brother's. Context she has raised them since she was a teen and is very protective over them so him getting to meet the three younger brothers is a big step in her trust and love for him.

omg I love this ❤️😭

He’s heard so much about your brothers, he loves the glimmer in your eyes when you talk about them, gushing over their accomplishments and showing them off to him. He absolutely adores listening to you talk about them, show pictures and tell the story behind them, your laughter when you talk about them is like nothing he’s ever heard. It’s the most beautiful noise in the world, the airy, breathless laugh when you tell the story about how you took them sledding once and how it ended with you face planting because of a ramp one of them built at the end of the hill. God, he replays that sound over and over again when he’s falling asleep in room.

And then you shyly proposed that he meet them the next time you were home together, his heart tripped over itself once he realized what that meant for you, both in terms of your relationship and how you see him. He was beyond flattered and almost terrified of how much you trusted him. He gave you a rare gentle smile and agreed to meet them, and when you immediately jumped up with the biggest grin on your face, he knew it was worth it.

He stood outside your front door with his heart hammering in his throat, his face feeling raw and exposed but he knew it was worth it (and he didn’t want to scare them). It was always worth it for you. A tall young man, he assumed the he was the eldest, opened the door and warily eyed him up and down before greeting him with a smile and a step to the side. He’d recognize that smile anywhere, he’s seen it on you so many times.

“Todd! Morgan! Can you help out in the kitchen?” You called out and on cue, two younger boys ran down the hall and raced each other into the kitchen,

“Hey! I’m glad you made it!” You jogged over to him and kissed him deeply, who can blame you? It’s already so rare to see him without a mask, why not enjoy it?

“Yike, sis, need a moment?” Teased the eldest as he took the case of sodas from Simon,

“Shut up, Andy, go help your brothers.” You quipped back, pink dusting your cheeks, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear as you walked Simon through your home. He looked around and saw that the amount of pictures you showed him, pales in comparison to how many pictures are in your home. Sport events, school pictures, competitions, recitals, medals and trophies, certificates of accomplishments, all with their names on it all hung on the walls or displayed proudly. Simon was in awe, he was astonished at the overwhelming love that filled your home.

He was speechless and you were worried that he was overwhelmed by it all. He caught onto how you felt and quickly tried to ease your concerns,

“I’m alright sweetheart, just, wow, you’re so proud of them, aren’t you?” He was breathless, you stood beside him and situated yourself under his arm, his fingers gently running over your shoulder as he held you tighter. You two looked into the kitchen and watched as Andy guided his two younger brothers on how to make good hamburger patties.

“They’re everything.” You sighed, resting your head against his chest. You stifled a laugh as the youngest overdid it with the breadcrumbs,

“Might have to step in soon.”

“Sure you don’t want your burgers with extra crumbs?” He teased as you both made your way over,

“Knowing you, I’ll never hear the end of it.” You quipped as you washed your hands and stepped aside for him to do the same.

It was beautiful, watching your little brothers warm up to him and welcome him so seamlessly. Everyone seemed to be so in sync with each other, even Morgan, the more rambunctious of the bunch, was on his best behavior. More excited than ever to bring Simon all his drawings and all the good grades he got on his tests, it made you tear up as you watched Simon fall into place among your family. Right where he belongs.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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