#should make sense; now he has a club of his own too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinhaler · 6 months

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I will kiss you and hold you and pet you and call you a good girl if you write a toji os abt him having a one nightstand with someone and when he’s undressing them he unzips their dress WITH HIS TEETHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……….. anyways!!! :3

am i a good girl now :(((

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji (maybe), alcohol consumption, squirting, fingering, face-sitting, vaginal sex, tit sucking, praise, slight degradation, reader passes out for a sec.

words: 2.4k

“Can I buy you a drink?” a handsome stranger asks you as you sit by your lonesome at the bar. You came here with your friend, who has since disappeared since locating her ex-boyfriend. And you suspect he won’t be an ex for much longer. The attention makes you giddy. His scar pulling as he smirks at you, a grin that grows wider when you nod. He pulls out his card and waits to flag down a bar tender. “I’m Toji, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and you curse yourself for how pathetic you must seem. It’s embarrassing, really, feeling so accomplished that a man deemed you worthy enough to talk to and buy a drink for. He’s like a model, possessing a wide build and tall figure. He could have any woman here if he wanted, you’re sure. And despite your inner monologue telling you to act coy, you’re sure you’re a bashful fool.

He orders you the same blue lagoon cocktail you’ve already had three of, and himself a lemonade.

“You don’t drink?” you ask him.

“Nah, it doesn’t really affect me.”

You shrug, slurping the ice cold cocktail through a metal straw you brought from home. He smirks at that, noting that you’re the type to prepare this much for what he’s sure is meant to be a casual night out. And he asks you questions about yourself that you’re so willing to answer. You ask him questions about himself that he answers too, though the responses are surface level and simple. The mystery only adds to his allure.

He's funny, effortlessly. Everything he says seems to make you giggle. You’re a cliché, too, twirling your hair as you hang on his every word. It’s a mix or attraction and intoxication. Is he really so interesting and funny or are you just wet and transfixed by his looks?

Your laughter dies out when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s your friend, coming to say goodbye. She points at her ex and tells you she’s leaving with him.

So much for girl code.

Though she does offer you to hop in the taxi with them so you can go home. But you don’t want to leave Toji. You want to keep making a lovesick fool of yourself for him and maybe see where the night takes you. So she waves and you focus on the older looking man beside you. He licks his lips, his scar glistening under the everchanging technicolour lights flooding the club.

“Wanna get going, gorgeous?” he asks, leaning over to speak into your ear. The rough gravel to his voice rushing straight to your pulsing cunt. You shouldn’t, really, should you? It’s not smart to go home with guys you’ve never met. You don’t know him or his intentions, he could be plying you with alcohol to get you stupid enough to kill you.

“Mhmm.” you nod, dumbly, consequences be damned. If you die, you’ll die by the hand of a man so beautiful you’d think an angel would cry at his presence. He takes your hand, leading you outside and hailing a cab. You at least have the sense to go to your place, knowing your cousin lives a few doors down and will surely here if things go wrong.

He kisses you deeply in the back of the cab, fingers digging into your skin as he squeezes your plush thigh. You moan, lewdly, when he tells you to stick out your tongue and he sucks it before licking it with his own. Tongues tangling as he continues to squeeze and knead your malleable flesh.

“Head on up, I’ll follow you.” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet. You nod, agreeing, whispering your apartment number before clambering out of the car. The chill of the 2am air bites at your skin, and you hurry to the security door. You pull the key from your purse and rush inside.

Toji takes his time paying the driver, grunting as he puts his wallet away and slides out of his side of the car. He slowly skulks to the entrance, smiling when he realises you remembered to leave the latch for him to get inside. He sees a crowd gathered by the elevator and opts to take the stairs instead.

He smirks, gleefully, when he sees you waiting by the front door.

“Watcha doin’, gorgeous?” he wonders.

“Waiting for you.” you confess, looking down at your feet awkwardly as shame surges through your body.

He approaches, slowly. But before you know it you’re looking up at him and caged between his body and your front door. His hands rest against the frame as he studies your blown eyes and nervous face.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ve never had a one night stand before,” he smiles, scar pulling deliciously once again. You can barely form a thought unable to break yourself from the hypnotising mark on his lip. “Unlock the door.”

“I already did…” you gulp, nervously, still unable to tear your eyes away from his.

He likes your answer, picking you up so that your legs wrap around his waist and he lets himself into your home. Your lips lock and tongues clash as he controls the kiss, but your eagerness gets the better of you. Your hips rutting and soft moans pour from you as you portray yourself as a desperate slut for his benefit.

You pout, a little defeated, as he sets you back down. Though the disappoint dies an instantaneous death as he spins you around so your back is to him, pushing you into the wall by your entryway.

“Have you fucked a stranger before, princess?” he asks, brushing your hair from your shoulder and whispering devilishly into your ear. You shake your head, pathetic strings of ‘no!’ spilling from your lips as his fingers explore under your dress and pinch your ass. You bite your lip as you feel his heavy fingers prod at your drippy panties. He huffs out a laugh when he realises how wet you are. “Allllll of this jus’ for me? You shouldn’t have, darlin’.”

“B-Been wet… since you asked if I wanted a drink…” you tell him, giggling a little and hiding your face against the wall.

“No no no…” he objects, tugging your hair softly to draw you out. “Wanna see you, wanna see how you look when I ruin you.” you feel your body flush with heat at his words, turning your head to the side so he can see you again. You place your palms against the wall to brace yourself, not expecting him to pull your panties down your legs from under your dress.

He relishes in how you can barely keep your eyes open as he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt and your panties drop to the ground. You bite your inner cheek, though it does little to keep you quiet as he curls his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp, ashamed that you might cum after a few pathetic pumps of his fingers. Though it doesn’t feel right. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t feel like you usually do when you’re close to cumming. “W-Wait.” you move your head and try to close your legs.

“Sh.” he stops you, kicking your ankles to keep your legs open. He holds your head against the wall with his forearm, his breathing heavy in your ear. You shudder when he kisses against it, chuckling quietly when he feels your pussy begin to clench. “Stop clenching, push. It’ll feel good, promise… push against me.” he commands.

You don’t know what’s he’s talking about. Push your body? No, he said stop clenching. You’re trying to keep him inside, keep the feeling inside. But he repeats it. Push. And like he’s the master of your cunt, it listens.

“Good girl, baby…” he praises you as he notes the pressure switch from your tender hole. You moan, and he coos. Faux sympathy as he fucks you dumb on his thick digits.

“Toji! Ngh—!” you moan. Clear liquid jets from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties and the floor beneath. He doesn’t let up, either, still battering his fingers against your g-spot.

“There you go, princess. Good fuckin’ girl… so good for me darlin’.” he moans, too, getting off on your pleasure and the striking realisation that you’ve never squirted before. He’s proud of himself, and he’s proud of you. “Fuckin’ soaked your pretty panties, sweetheart. Dirty little girl…” he teases.

You don’t have the energy to respond, already spent from cumming in such an alien way. He kisses your shoulder as your legs continue to shake. Any logic from the thought of telling him to stop fingering you dissipates when you think that he can you make you cum like that again.

He feels his hardened cock over his jeans as he looks down at the puddle beneath you. Still pumping his fingers against your sweet spot until your eyes roll over white. He can’t take it anymore. The unrelenting inner voice telling him to touch himself. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t stroke his length, even for a minute.

“Don’t move.” he orders.

You stay still, unsure of what he’s doing. Though you whimper as you feel his body press against yours. His head sinks to the top of your dress, and you just about cum again when you realise he’s biting down on the metal zipper, pulling it down with his teeth as exposing your bare back.

The black mini dress falls to the ground into the puddle of your lewdness and your drenched underwear.

“Good girl, stay there.”

He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside down the hallway, only to be seen by the end of this dalliance. You hear him kick off his shoes and quickly throws away his socks. Eagerly, his pants follow, as do his underwear. He’s just as naked as you, now. And you choke out a breath as you hear him drop to his knees, licking up the mess on your thighs and pussy. But he turns around, sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, without a care for the wetness beneath. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt towards his face.

“Sit.” he instructs.

You do, without pause, moaning boisterously as he sucks at your clit and covers his face in your sweetness. One arm remains hooked around thigh while the other releases, hand in search of his aching length. He plays with himself, alternating between lazy strokes and passionate ones. The taste of your cunt makes him dizzy, unable to believe how much slick you’re producing as he relentlessly feasts on your flesh.

“F-fuck, Toji… finger me, please.” you beg. He’s leaking like crazy, and thinks your request might have come at the perfect time. He lets himself go in favour of pleasuring you, the sound of your sticky cunt squelching with each press throughout your eerie apartment. Neither of you had even found time to turn on a light, the only thing illuminating the room is the filtering light sneaking in through the cracks of your front door. “G’na cum, a-again… holy— s-shit.” you moan.

It spurs him on, maintaining all of his ministrations as he tries to coax your second orgasm out of you. He grunts, loudly, against your sodden folds as you squirt again. His face and hair doused with your release as he doesn’t dare pull away. The sadistic desire to prolong your ecstasy is fuelling him to keep going. He feels like he might cum untouched as he feels your cum cover him.

Your legs give, his burly arms hook around your thighs again in a bid to keep you stable. But his hands wander, impatiently. Fingers grip into your waist as he pulls you away from the wall.

He helps you down, hovering you above his longing cock as he guides it to your spent hole.

“I don’t have any condoms.” he tells you.

“Don’t care—” you assure him, wriggling your hips eagerly. “’m on the pill.”

“Greedy girl,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his cock. You want to scream from the stretch but you manage to refrain. He sets a ruthless pace, forcing you to accommodate to it quickly. “Been so sweet for me, darlin’. Gonna be nice ‘n do all the work for ya, okay? Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you! Thank you.” you babble nonsensically.

His knees are bent as he fucks up into your abused hole, the velocity propelling you forward. Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he takes advantage of your body being in such close proximity to his mouth. He sucks your tits, eliciting a dreamy moan from you. The gorgeous sounds you make for him have his cock drooling inside of your unprotected walls.

It's so sorrowful, really, thinking about how pathetic you both are. He seemed so calm and collected and yet neither of you could even make it through the hallway of your apartment before you were both stripped bare. You thought you’d be fucking comfortably on your bed. But here you are, being fucking destroyed by his monstrously large cock on the wooden, soaking, hallway floor.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he breathes against your spit soaked tits. The admission makes you cream, clenching around his thick, veiny cock as you brace yourself. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna cum again. Can feel it, little cock slut. No one’ll fuck you like this again, y’know.”

“Ah- aaaah—!” is all you can say as a lesser stream of liquid shoots from you once more. The internal bliss you feel makes you pass out momentarily. But you come around quick enough to feel your untainted insides become stained with his white, creamy warmth.

He groans, deeply, bouncing you up and down his length. He wishes there was a light on to see the creamy ring and the messy puddle you’ve created together.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” he tells you, grasping the crown of your head with his palm to guide you into a sloppy kiss. He manages to stand up whilst keeping himself slotted comfortably inside of you. You giggle as you guide him to the nearest light switch, and both of you look down at the mess you’ve made. Shame builds once again and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Awe, pretty girl made a dirty little mess f’me.” he teases you.

“Stop! ‘m so embarrassed!” you tell him, the sentence muffled as you talk into his skin.

“S’okay, rest up.” he tells you, stroking your back soothingly. “Give me a tour, wanna see the next place we can make a mess of.”

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yuri-is-online · 10 months

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Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader

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dandelionprints · 8 months

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Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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

"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him.

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt.

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision.

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected.

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers.

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning.

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day.

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm.

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself.

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim.

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her.

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck.

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion.

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling.

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men.

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral.

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest.

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him.

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came.

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time.

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room.

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife.

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out.

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold.

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows.

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual.

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed.

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain.

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers.

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly.

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital.

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks.

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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stariikis · 2 months

Text

a cruel summer with you...

synopsis ; you have always hated riki. he doesn't care about his grades and is only ever good at sports and dance. so why is it that he's gotten into the top class of the level? and why do you, for some reason, take an interest in him?

pairing ; sporty!nishimura riki x academic!reader genre ; one-sided rivalry to lovers, fluff, getting together, oneshot wc ; 2458 warnings ; light kissing

cruel summer, taylor swift

Every time you see the damned silhouette of Nishimura Riki down the hallway, adjacent to the grand doorway to the top class in the level, you start to physically convulse. There’s no end to the numerous ways he gets on your nerves. Maybe it’s the sly remarks he likes to make when he sees you stressing out over your grades. It could very well be the way he saunters into your classroom as if he’s one of the top students too.

But no, all he has is being the well-known, all-rounded president of the dance club. His grades were decent enough for him to slip his way into the top class, and you have had a one-sided hatred towards him ever since.

He parades around as if he’s the most popular boy in the whole school (he probably is), and every day without fail he’ll show up with a new racket, ball or the equipment of whatever his newest obsession is. However, what blows you off the most is the fact that, as your seatmate, he and his friends like to disturb you when you’re just trying to study.

You would be pouring over your Biology textbooks, desperately trying to cram all sorts of structures into your head, and Riki would bring over his basketball friends. Jake and Heeseung, still in their dirt-scarred, rumpled jerseys, would tease you for just the hope of getting a perfect score for it.

You could be buried deep in your self-made notes, trying to make sense of equations and funny symbols. Riki would stop Sunghoon on his way back to his seat, figure skates slung over his back before the famous skater’s practice. They would proceed to talk loudly about their plans for the next day. And all you could ever do would be to get out of your seat and leave. Of course, Riki never spared you a look as you left. Or that’s what you thought.

Yang Jungwon and Kim Sunoo are two of Riki’s more bearable friends. They’re sweet and are close to some of your friends as well. But when they look over and shoot you glances that seem to have hidden messages you can’t decipher… you can only squirm uncomfortably.

“Riki! Pay attention,” you scolded him one day before the Maths exam, pushing the textbook closer to him. He wouldn’t stop teasing you with insensitive jokes. Part of you wanted to storm up to your head teacher and beg for a seating plan change, but the other part of you was used to his insufferable antics. You just bore with the pain and tried to explain one more time.

It was enough that you were spending precious time trying to tutor this hopeless boy, who could barely differentiate right from left if you asked him on the spot. But you also had to put up with everything you hated about him slowly turning into things that made you more than okay with his presence hovering over you like a guardian angel.

The burning sensation of his eyes flickering upwards to look at you as you searched for the words to explain why 5x squared should be brought over to the other side of the equation. The oddly attractive way he clicked and unclicked his pen; a concentrated frown taking over his features as he hesitated to write his answer down.

That was not all. You were trying to ignore the way his knee knocked slightly against yours as he turned back to his own desk with a short nod. Leaning over the worksheet-cluttered desk, he looked genuinely serious for once. It had been a long time since you saw him like this. Actually, it may have been your first time.

His hair fell over his eyes as he continued to scribble over his textbook.

Are you happy now? You asked yourself, as you watched him. He’s finally not trying to bother you, or distract you from your studies, or…

He chewed on his lower lip, tilting his head to the side and staring at the question as if it would give him the answer he needed. At this, you shivered, because this side of Riki was so foreign to you. It was so unfamiliar that you did not feel comfortable. Because why would Riki, with a bunch of rowdy, carefree friends from his dance club, ever turn to a life of books? Even you, who broke down at the first glance of a C grade, had accepted that it’s a sad life.

When Sunoo walked past your conjoined tables just a few minutes before the bell rang, he shot you a smug look. It sent a small shudder down your spine – something really was up that day. But as you did everything that happened in school, you ignored it and stood up promptly to lead the class in greeting the teachers.

Now, although it’s an unknown concept to you, you and him are on the borderline definition of friends. You may have sworn deep inside your heart to hate him till the end of time, with his arrogant airs and his constant over-the-top quips. But beneath the careless exterior lays a young boy who just wants to appear older than he actually is.

At eleven in the night, as you both burned the midnight oil studying for an exam the next day, he quietly confessed that more than anything, he just wanted to look cool. Like his Heeseung hyung who always seemed to ace anything he tried. Like his Jay hyung who was such an inspiration and influence to his style. Like his Jake, Sunghoon and Jungwon hyungs, who were pros in their own sports. Like his Sunoo hyung, who always knew just what to say and how to say it.

And when you looked up from your messy notes, heart wrenching upon hearing these words coming from someone you hated for the longest time, you could only see hints of sadness dotting his eyes.

The boy who had utterly ruined your first impression of him by bumping into you without apologising. In a haste to receive the football, he darted in front of you and had you sent to the nurse’s during your PE lesson. The next time you saw him after that was a shy peek of his head into the sick bay. The apology note he wrote was promptly torn up into a million pieces for the trash.

This boy was struggling in his own ways. He wasn’t untidy and disorganised. He was trying his very hardest to manage all the pieces of work he had overdue and unfinished. The boy you believed used his popularity and luck to squeeze his way into the class. His hard work and efforts were and are still easily commendable.

Perhaps it’s the reason why teachers are more lenient on him not submitting homework. Maybe it’s why they seem to give him special treatment after he returns from a competition, sometimes victorious and sometimes defeated.

Today, it’s another late night call for both of your Chemistry exams tomorrow morning. On the other end of the call, Riki is silent – all you can hear are the scratches of graphite probably calculating some form of mass. You look up at your computer screen to check in on him, knowing that today he lost a match as the centre. It is probably the sportsman’s equivalent to failing a subject you normally excel at.

A sigh leaves him every once in a while, and a hint of blue indicating sound coming from the call flickers in your periphery. At this rate, you can’t focus on your work. You’re scared to ask and at the same time you’re scared to stay quiet.

“... Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, reaching out to adjust the volume. When Riki doesn’t answer for a few moments, your stomach twists into a knot so tight you feel like choking.

“I’m fine,” he finally answers, quietly, so soft you can barely hear him. He doesn’t look up from his worksheets, but his shoulders remain slumped and he can’t even meet your eyes for a second. He’s clearly lying and as usual, going to cover it up with a jocular facade.

“Oh my gosh, yn,” he mutters on cue, letting out a huff of forced laughter. “I think I’m going to fail if you don’t help me.”

He’s trying to brush it off. You know. You’ve been in his shoes before, in a different situation and circumstance. And the feeling of being at the lowest of lowests is not a pleasant one. “Riki…”

The boy’s smile instantly fades and his gaze darts to the side. “Right. Sorry. Um, I didn’t play very well today.”

There it is. “Let yourself have a break. You know that you’re doing your best, right?”

Never in a million years would the you at the start of the year imagine that you would be uttering these words to your seatmate. Sincerely, and you truly mean it. You would never have thought your heart would ache to make his tattered and torn one whole.

“Right.” With the weight of one word hanging over both your shoulders, you get the feeling that he has more to say that he ultimately never will. “Thanks.”

You offer him a slight, sad smile in return. After a while of studying and comforting him, you shut off your lamp and bid him goodbye whilst telling him he probably needs to get some rest for tomorrow. The memory of him returning your smile boxily still lingers after you shut down your computer and leave your room. You hate him so much. You hate him for making you feel like you’re not alone in this world. You hate that you see yourself in him and that he makes you feel seen, validated, real…

The next day, you walk up to your seats at the back of the classroom. Surprisingly, Riki’s sitting there before you are, an unusual sight especially since he normally comes in hours late after games. He’s pouring over his own Chemistry notes, the first you’ve ever seen. His handwriting is messy in the pretty kind of way, lacing over the small pages.

“Riki,” you call him softly, to get his attention. He looks up at you, eyes rounded cutely, and your heart does a small flutter. “Here, this is for you. Are you feeling better?”

He blinks rapidly as you pull out a small goody bag filled with snacks and candies. And at the bottom, although he doesn’t see it yet, is a note that you’ve poured your heart and soul into. It sounds like a well-obscured confession, and maybe to him it may be, but it’s a thank you for being in my life. Thank you for being here even though I know you probably don’t want to.

Why does he look like he’s never been gifted anything before? His cheeks go red and he looks at you with the happiness of a toddler. Eyes shimmering in the dawn light, he grins. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the empty classroom goes silent. With a quarter an hour to seven, your classmates are going to start coming in soon, to collectively mug and cry over Chemistry. So before that happens, you clap your hands and point at the bag.

“Open it now! And read what’s inside!” You babble, taking a seat beside him. Your knees touch again, and he seems to be reading your whole face with his eyes alone, but the adrenaline has you fearless for once.

He slowly begins to unfold the note you hid at the bottom, an uncertain and suspicious frown on his face. But underneath it, you just know his heart is beating as hard as yours is. As if the anticipation is contagious – or you’re simply an expert empath.

dear riki,

i hate you.

yes, you read that right. i despise you with every fibre of my being. i can’t take your presence beside me in class, ticking me off with every smart remark you make in the middle of math. i can’t take the way you look at me with hopeless defeat or arrogant victory when you get back from any one of the many sports you play. i hate how talented you are, how cool you seem to me, how much you remind me of me when you tell me what’s on your mind.

because i worked so hard to get into this class and worked so hard for a reputation of being the best student leader and the smartest girl in school. and you – you seemed not to work at all. you would walk into this classroom like you owned it. and i hated it.

until i started to like it.

i liked the way you smiled. i liked the way you teased me. i liked the way you rolled your eyes when you saw me fretting over physics yet again. what made me change my mind, you ask? well, a small glimpse into your life shows me you do work hard. you probably work twice as hard as i ever can and will. i like that.

and as much as i never say it, i like you.

When Riki’s eyes reach the bottom of the square-shaped paper, you see him start to tear like never before. It scares you to the core. You have never seen him so emotional.

“You’re joking,” he laughs boyishly, running a hand through his hair and looking at you. Is this the first time you have seen his cheeks so rosy and vibrant, the first time you’ve seen his eyes squinted in such joy? “You are joking right now.”

“I’m not,” you smile back, “rea–”

And he interrupts you by leaning in and kissing you, sweet and gentle and shy just like all the other times he’s ever interacted with you. He gets up from his seat and leans on the back of yours for support. You can feel his smile against your lips, genuine and real for the first time in forever. It feels new yet it feels like solace.

“You’re the class president,” he whispers in the intimacy of both your gazes. So close yet so out of reach. His hands shake and he cradles the top of your head hesitantly. “and I’m the boy who does anything but study. Why me?”

You hum and shrug your shoulders. “You’re the sportiest boy I know, and all I ever do is study so I can be the top student. Right back at you.”

The giggle Riki lets out before he leans in and kisses you again will remain forever engrained in your mind.

“i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

thank you for reading! please please please do send me feedback and share your opinions! i would love to hear you guys in my asks n dms as well ;) have a good day everyone!

more of my works >

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

anything you want

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!

(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)

—

“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”

Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.

“Where you off to, man?”

“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.

“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.

“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”

“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.

“What’re you teaching today, trouble?”

“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater.

You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you.

Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.

You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred.

Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt.

Fuck.

There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.

When did you get so close to him?

“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.

“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium.

He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair…

Maybe Chris was onto something…

“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”

Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you. What a dork.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.

And they always are, whether you can help it or not.

Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.

“Like what, trouble?”

Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.

“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.

It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.

“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table.

When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete.

But Luke’s always been there, watching.

Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.

“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.

“You talk too much, you know that?”

Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.

Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.

Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.

Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.

It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.

Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—

“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”

He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.

He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.

—

“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”

-Lang Leav

ask to be put on general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo show imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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islandofsages · 4 months

Note

Hey ! Can I ask for the Diasomnia boys reacting to a male!Ignihyde!reader who join the gargoyle club (idk if it's name) ?

Like, the reader is really just interest in the gargoyles, and isn't scare of Malleus (or anyone, really. Man is too tired for being scare.)

Ignore it if you don't want to write it.

Have a good day/night ! And happy new year too.

characters: diasomnia boys x male ignihyde reader

tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, imagines + scenario format; mentions of malleus in literally everything, lilia being a dad

warnings: none

author's notes: reader is so idgaf energy i love it. also i just remembered the small font feature exists LMAO do tell me if it's too small, i'll change it back to the original size!! if not, i'll change my previous posts to the smaller font. also you have a good day/night too anon ! and happy new year :D

Malleus Draconia

Oh? You want to join the Gargoyle Studies Club? You’re being serious? Oh!

Words cannot describe how happy he is about a fellow gargoyle appreciator though his expression doesn’t really show that

And to think you see him as just another dude… such honor was bestowed upon him…!

He’ll excitedly bring you to every gargoyle he’s found on campus and infodump about them - and you’d write them down somewhere if you’re in the mood

Sometimes you’d find new gargoyles and bring him to them and you start to do likewise

Even outside of club activities you two geek out about gargoyles at times which has earned you two the title of nerds

“Have I told you about the time I’ve met talking gargoyles? I never thought I would see such a day…”

Gargoyles aside, he has times where he confides his personal daily life in you and in turn, he’ll ask you what’s it like being in Ignihyde, etc

After being around each other so much, it feels weird when you guys aren’t together - some people would ask where Malleus is whenever you’re on your own, and vice versa

People found it weird how close an Ignihyde student is to someone from a different dorm too and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or not

But in a sense, Malleus really is your other nerdy half.

Sebek Zigvolt

You?????? Join the club where Malleus is president and is the only member of?????????

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’RE WORTHY OF JOINING SUCH A CLUB?”

Well, for one, the fact that you’re unfazed by his constant yelling and therefore probably too tired to be fazed by anything, consequently making you the perfect companion to Malleus because you wouldn’t react inappropriately to Malleus’ conduct

And that you actually are interested in gargoyles. That too. You tell all this to him

He clutches his head with one hand, debating your logic. You don’t know how and why but he accepts your argument

That doesn’t stop him from monitoring you two’s activities from afar but, again, you couldn’t care less. A sixteen year old’s fanatics is just part of the growing process

Outside of club activities, he interrogates you on what you’ve discussed with Malleus and you just tell him the truth: gargoyles

At some point, he gets so engrossed in your infodump about gargoyles his eyes shine with a new light

Of course, he mentions something about Malleus obviously liking something so interesting and befitting of his status - but he also thanks you for enlightening him on the topic and that he’ll go to you for more information if need be

You’ve converted him. You sometimes see him clutching a book about gargoyles around the school. It’s filled with notes sticking out of the pages. And a portion of that sometimes he’ll run to you to confirm about a fact or two

Maybe it’s safe to say you two are kind of friends now.

Silver

He doesn’t think too much of it other than being glad that Malleus finally has a fellow gargoyle fan he can geek out with

He’d see you and Malleus chatting it up around campus and he can’t stop the tender smile on his face from making an appearance

Sometimes he himself will try to strike up a conversation with you and gargoyle geek aside, he finds that you’re just a pleasant person to talk to and be around

He admits he’s not too close with any of the folks from Ignihyde aside for the Shroud brothers but you brush him off by saying that nobody is really

He also admires how you don’t really let anything get to you. Again, you shrug it off by half-joking that you’re too tired to be scared by anything at this point

He somewhat empathizes with you on that point, grieving over his narcoleptic tendencies with a heavy sigh

You try your best to cheer him up or if you have experience with such things, you give him advice on how to manage it

You then jest that he can tag along with you and Malleus’ club activities whenever he’s free if he wants. The more, the merrier, right?

He ponders it for a minute and nods. You didn’t think he’d actually accept the offer

“I don’t see a reason to refuse. Sebek and I have accompanied Malleus on his trips before. I’m sure this time around will be more fun with you here.”

And so you all do. You all have a royal time together - and the joy on Silver’s face is especially princely.

Lilia Vanrouge

He sheds (crocodile) tears at the thought of Malleus finally having an additional member in his one-man club more friends

Since you’re chill about it, he is too! As long as you get along with Malleus, everything will be fine and dandy

If anything, he’s a bit impressed by how it takes more than the average amount to gain a reaction out of you

…and a bit concerned. Are you sure you’re getting enough nutrients? His paternal instincts kick in when you tell him you’re too tired to have a reaction to anything

He knows that Ignihyde students are mostly shut-ins but he still advises you and makes sure you get a balanced diet

It’s like he’s adopted yet another son

“Oh, (Y/N), you really ought to take care of yourself more.”

You grow a bit annoyed at him sometimes but you know his intentions are good so you don’t protest

You do feel very loved though. You didn’t expect this much from just joining a club for a topic you’re genuinely interested in

But you have to admit it is kind of hard to come by people who aren’t intimidated by the Malleus Draconia, even if you don’t see it as anything special

What’s special, though, is the affection Lilia holds for you.

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dollfacefantasy · 2 months

Text

Time to Kill

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: during a night out at a club, you bump into a bounty hunter who has some time to kill.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, heavy dub-con, p in v, fingering, degradation, size kink, public sex, biting, mentions of murder, violence, death, guns, crime, etc.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i will be back to RE after this i just wanted to try something new :) reblogs and comments mean the world <3 for @nexysworld and @kaitkatme cause they put me on jjk and i love them.

“Watch it, bounty hunter,” you scoff, eyes shooting a glare up at the guy who bumped into you and nearly knocked you down.

He returns your sneer with his own, staring down at you with condescending irritation. The fact that he towers over you is almost enough to make you regret the jab, but you bank on being in a crowded nightclub to keep you safe.

His hair hangs down into his eyes, making it harder to see his expression in the already dark hall. Regardless, you feel his gaze raking over your curves before fixating on your face.

“Maybe you should watch it, princess,” he responds. Even his voice sounded skeevy.

The unaffected smirk on his face doesn’t elude you either despite the dim lighting. You roll your eyes and snake past him, brushing the confrontation off in hopes of still enjoying your night. Your first move is going back to the bar and downing a few more drinks. Then you make your way back to the main area to dance.

Your hips sway to the blaring music while the lights overhead bathe your skin in a red tint. The music pounds in the ground beneath you, up through your legs and into your heart. You let your head fall back and get lost in the sound of the drums. Everyone around you seems to be doing the same, bobbing to the rhythm. A sea of strangers moving together.

But as all that happens in your vicinity, you can still feel a set of eyes on you. You sense that same gaze from the hall, watching you as if you were prey ready to be pounced on. Acting as if you’re still moving purely to the song, you twist your head to the side and look around. As you expect, you catch his focus and with him in a brief stare.

You keep moving though, trying to ignore it. Maybe he was still pissy. Maybe he was bored. Either way, it really wasn’t any of your concern. He was none of your business beyond the altercation in the hall. And in your defense, you didn’t even actually know that he was a bounty hunter. You’d only heard rumors about him, the guy with the scar on his lip. He just had that look about him.

It didn’t really matter. The liquor was starting to get to your head. You felt less stable on your feet as you moved your body in between the others making up the crowd. Everything was bright and loud, the seams on your top were scratchy, and your head was swimming.

You begin pushing through people, stumbling towards the bathroom as you need a reprieve from all the action. Your attention is on not tripping or breaking your ankle in the tall shoes you wore, so you don’t notice his figure slithering through the room alongside you.

You walk down that same hallway you’d run into him the first time. Teetering back and forth, you push open the bathroom door. Two stalls stand opposite from the door with a mirror and a set of sinks next to them. You shuffle in towards the countertops, both palms landing on the cool surface. There’s red neon lights in the bathroom too. You have to squint while staring at your reflection.

As you glance over yourself, you realize your sleeve is slipping off your shoulder, and your skirt is a little twisted out of place. You adjust your outfit before leaning closer to the mirror for further inspection. You’re shimmery with a light sheen of sweat, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now. Instead you pull out your lipgloss and swipe it across your pout with a few lazy strokes.

You’re busy tending to your appearance when the door behind you flies open. Your eyes flit to the reflection of the man who walked in. It was that guy. He looked even larger in the confined space of the bathroom. The red lighting shines directly on him, highlighting how his arms bulge as they emerge from his shirt, the way the fabric sits tight on his defined torso. To be real, he was starting to grow on you. But that must have been the drinks talking.

“Wrong bathroom, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes. The drinks were responsible for that line too, dulling the fear that would have overtaken your nerves earlier.

“The other bathroom doesn’t have you in it, does it?” he asks, slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him.

He’s still against the wall parallel to the mirror. You eye him curiously, not making any sudden moves. In sober circumstances, you would be absolutely terrified. Your heart would be pounding, vision blurry, and hands shaking with anxiety at the prospect of a strange guy cornering you in the bathroom. But right now, you just had a muted uncertainty in the pit of your stomach.

“What do you want with me?” you ask, attempting to seem unamused, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“It’s cute that you think that’s even a possibility,” he responds.

A smirk rises on his face as he steps closer to you. You can nearly feel his body against your back. His face remains clearly visible in the mirror as he stands at least an entire head higher than you. It was obvious from the start, but at this proximity, it was impossible to escape how big he was. Chills erupt across your skin as his hands coast up your arms and rest on your shoulders.

“You weren’t far off the mark before anyways,” he says.

You try to shrug him off, but his hands stay firmly in place. His eyes are locked onto your body, his current target. You were getting a little more jittery, but it wasn’t totally out of fear. Your fingers fumble as you jam your lip gloss back into your clutch.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you reply.

Beyond the strange mixture of emotions inside you, this conversation begins to grow annoying. Remarks that brush past each other instead of making direct hits. And he’s still so fucking smug. It's grating. Apparently your displeasure is visible since he chuckles and runs his fingertips down your jawline.

“Aw, look at that face,” he mocks, fingers coming up to hold your jaw, “Good to know you’re cute while pouting too.”

“What do you want?” you ask with more anger. You try to pry his hand away from your chin, but his grip is tight. There’s no getting it off.

“Impatient,” he chides, though his eyes don’t hold any irritation, “I just thought I’d check on you. Isn’t really safe for a girl like you to wander off all alone. Someone may want to take advantage.”

You try to turn around to push him away, but his hips have yours pinned to the countertop.

“Lucky for you, I have some time to kill before my real work starts,” he says.

His other hand drifts up to your chest, digits lightly dragging over your right breast, slowly moving closer and closer to the center. You hate your body in that moment for the way your nipples instinctively stiffen up beneath your top. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least he doesn’t point it out if he does.

“My nerves go crazy before a hit, y’know? I could use some stress relief,” he purrs in your ear, “Judging by how riled up you get, I think you could too.”

A shiver shoots up your spine while arousal simultaneously swirls between your legs. You glare at him through the reflection, but there’s no physical resistance this time. He was really growing on you now. He was pissing you off for sure, but it was starting to circle around to the point where you wanted to take out that rage in a more carnal manner. It doesn’t help when he continues speaking.

“The way you were dancing, I know you wanted someone to notice. Showing that tight ass off, just begging for some attention. Well, you have all of mine now,” he breathes, punctuating his statement with a light smack on your backside.

Heat creeps up your neck as he speaks. It was difficult to prevent yourself from being flustered in these circumstances, but you couldn’t just give in to this shithead. You had to still have some fight in you, right? Trying to keep your voice as firm as possible, you challenge him. “I don’t want it.”

With that simple statement, you jab your elbow back into his abdomen, allowing you to spin around. But that’s all you can do because he acts as if the move didn’t hurt him at all. His hand comes back to your jaw with a harsher grasp. Still despite the rough movements, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by your attempts at rejection.

“Too bad,” he states simply. He boosts you up onto the counter, using your neck as leverage. He slots himself between your legs to keep them spread and maintains eye contact the whole time. “Pretty little brat like you needs someone to show you your place.”

His hand delves between your thighs, pressing against your panties. He watches you closely as he strokes you over the fabric. You tense up a bit at first, a shaky breath exiting your lungs. It felt good obviously, but it was still weird. And on top of that, you couldn’t understand why he wasn’t just getting to the point and taking what he wanted.

He registers the confusion on your face and leans down closer to you. His breath fans across your neck. You can feel his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m not in a rush,” he says simply, “Got some time before my guy gets here. Rather play with you for a bit longer than wait around out there.”

He continues rubbing you through the cloth that separates your skin. He’s breathing heavier as he speeds up his movements, inhaling the scent of your perfume mixed with the liquor you’d both had. A breathy whine leaves you as his middle finger flicks over your clit. You hear him hum in approval before he lowers his head more and lays some sloppy kisses on your neck. He leaves some love bites, more to occupy himself than anything else. His teeth nip at the skin while his tongue laves over the mini bruises.

You’re starting to soak through your underwear. He knows it. He can feel it. The lacy fabric clings to your folds more, letting him feel more of you. A sharp puff of hot air comes from his nostrils, sending a chill over you as it hits the wet skin on your throat.

“You’ve been aching for this since your little tantrum, haven’t you? Probably could’ve fucked you right out there in front of everyone, and you wouldn’t have said a word. Except maybe ‘more,’” he says, his voice low and smooth with his own arousal.

“No,” you object out of instinct. Your words contradict the way your hips begin to buck against his fingers, itching for him to rip your panties off.

“Yes,” he chuckles, taking your hint and pulling the damp article of clothing down.

His fingers slide through your wetness freely now. You sigh with some semblance of relief. Your head rests against the mirror, and you can only imagine the sinful image displayed in the glass right now. You spread open for this man who looms above you.

You shake your head lazily in response to him. Your already-intoxicated mind becomes less focused as the simmer of pleasure starts melting away the functioning parts of your brain.

“Yeah. Just tell me this. Do you do this often, or is it something special about me?” he mocks.

Your response is cut short as he slips two fingers inside you. You gasp at the stretch. You’re pretty sure you’ve had dick before that was the same size as this guy's warm-up. You spread your trembling legs wider for him as your teeth briefly sink into your bottom lip.

“Just shut up,” you whimper, eyes flutter closed as he massages your walls.

“If I had to bet, I’d say this is the first time. You’re all shaky for me,” he teases and gently laps at your pulse point, “And I can feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest.”

He was right about that. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, thumping through all of your body. Your cheeks burn as he continues pumping in and out of your cunt. You tighten up around him, eyes fluttering at the sensation between your legs. Your slick gathers on his fingers and drips down to the marble under you.

“It’s cute really, knowing you’re not always such a slut,” he goes on.

You whine, loud enough that it echoes around the bathroom. His fingers curl within you, leading you towards the edge. One of your hands is flat on the counter, keeping you up right. The other is clasped around his wrist, your nails forming little red crescents on the skin. They dig in harsher as he keeps speaking.

“Like you better when you’re quiet,” you say between mewls and moans.

“I’d say the same for you if you weren’t making all those cute noises,” he says and starts thrusting his fingers in harder, “Got an innocent little thing like you moaning like a pornstar for me.”

Your head spins as the noise of his fingers inside your pussy starts to fill the bathroom. Your ear rests on your shoulder as you slump to the side in your drunken, lust-fueled haze. He just keeps on with his motions, working you right to the brink. Only when you’re writhing and whining like you’re about to lose it, does he stop and pull his digits out of you completely.

A noise of shock and frustration leaves you as your eyes narrow. He cracks a smile, highlighting that scar on his lip. He then tugs you off the counter by your hips. You nearly topple over, but he stabilizes you and walks you to the wall with the door, perpendicular to the mirror. He shoves you against the hard surface, engulfing your body with his own.

He’s breathing against the side of your head, rutting his hips into yours and letting you feel his hardened bulge. You could already tell it was big. One set of fingers holds your head against the wall while the other maintains a bruising grip on your waist.

“Acting pretty fuckin’ needy for someone who didn’t want it,” he grunts.

You catch your own eyes in the mirror and the image before you only has you getting more turned on. He’s all over you, grinding his hips and teasing himself with your flesh. His cheeks are stained with a light pink tint from the combination of desire and exertion. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the inky black locks out of his eyes. That same hand then ventures South.

He pushes up your skirt over the swell of your ass, bunching it near the small of your back. After a second of admiration, he pulls his cock out. At your current angle, you don’t get a clear view, but from what you do see of how his fist is wrapped around it, you know your expectations are correct.

He taps it against your ass teasingly, and you feel the weight of it. It’s heavy and warm, leaking a bit from the swollen tip. He slides it down and slips it between your thighs. It rubs against your slick folds. You’re already mentally preparing yourself for the stretch, but you still push your hips back at him because you crave it.

“That’s right. You’re learning already. Smarter than you look,” he teases before nudging the tip inside you and inching deeper.

Your guttural moan echoes through the bathroom as you accommodate his size. You feel him pulsing against every part of your insides. You sink further against the tiles on the wall. The bright gleam on them from the red neon lights fades as your eyes droop with lust. You try to say something, but you can’t get any words out.

And cocky as he is, he’s not faring much better. He groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His ragged breaths hit your skin that’s shining with more sweat. He watches your arms stretch out more against the wall, and his trail behind. His fingers chase yours and intertwine, flattening you against the surface.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbles against your skin.

When he bottoms out in you, you’re sure you feel him in your stomach, deeper than anyone before had made it. He takes a second to take in before starting to thrust. His skin smacks against yours in a slow rhythm at first. Your eyes roll back at the motions, and your cunt clamps down on him, trying to keep him all the way in, to keep yourself nice and full. He growls as he feels it and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your throat. He bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to create an ache, a complement to the satisfaction you felt in your belly.

You yelp at the sudden feeling. It hurt, but you wanted more. It wasn’t good enough right now, too dull. You wanted it to hurt, to feel as prominent as everything else going on felt. The music in the main part of the club still raged on, vibrating throughout the entire building, including the wall you were trapped against. The bass thrummed against your cheek and made your head fog up even faster.

He hums with pleasure at your responses, enjoying the way you slowly unraveled for him. He bites a bit harder before loosening up completely. The marks now forming on your skin drive him wild. He knows they’ll last for days. You’ll feel ‘em in the shower, while you’re getting dressed, when you’re shifting around in bed at night. They’ll last much longer after he pulls out and both of you have left this sketchy bathroom.

Once he’s away from your neck, his eyes lock in on yours, but they’re not making contact. He’s enraptured by the way your gaze remains on the mirror to the side of you. He stares down at you, as if studying your thoughts just from the look in your eyes.

“You got a thing for watching, little brat? You like watching yourself get used?” he pants, “I know I like it.”

That snaps you out of your daze. You glance back at him with something akin to shyness behind your eyes. He’d describe it as cute if the two of you weren’t in a situation that was anything but at the moment.

“It’s alright, keep watching. Watch me fill this tight pussy better than anyone else ever could,” he grunts.

All you can do to reply is whine and whimper, squirming against the wall. And he laughs at you.

“Yeah?” he mocks, “That all you have to say?”

He hooks his index finger in your mouth and pulls at your cheek, shifting your face to a more erotic expression. Any words you got out now would be garbled for sure. His hips continue clapping against your ass, jolting you forward with each stroke. Drool drips down your chin from how your mouth is pulled open. You don’t bother with trying to speak anymore. You just give in to how good he’s fucking you.

“Pretty baby. Such a slut for me,” he murmurs.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. It’s one of the most intense stares you’ve ever felt, like he’s reaching into your soul, rooting part of himself there. He’s gonna be with you long after this ends and you know it. You moan for him, letting all your sounds of euphoria flood the bathroom. He grins and pistons himself into you harder.

“Driving me crazy, dollface. Look at you, all fucked out, whining cause you don’t even know what to say. Don’t even know my fuckin’ name,” he says.

That really gets you cause he’s right, and you know it. And it should make you feel icky. Should make you want to recoil in disgust. But it does the opposite. You feel like your bodies are melting together, becoming one in your haze of passion.

You turn your head to face the other way, not wanting to confront the insatiable desire you felt. He moves in closer and keeps you pinned against that wall. He’s fucking you just how you like, and you don’t think you’re gonna last much longer. He’s not sure he will either with the way you’re pulsing around him.

“Harder,” you whimper, wanting to actually make it to the peak this time, “Want you deeper.”

“Knew you’d be begging for it,” he says. He gives you what you want though, pumping harder and driving himself even deeper. “You don’t need to know my name. All you care about is that I’m giving this pussy what she needs.”

You’re both climbing to the high point, caught up in your lust for each other. You almost don’t notice the door starting to open, a sliver of the world breaking the small bubble the two of you had made together.

All you see is a pair of eyes widening. They probably freeze with shock when they register your face squished against the tile, your wanton moans drifting through the small opening to their ears. They don’t get to see any more than that though because the bounty hunter’s large palm lands on the door and shoves it closed.

Your own eyes widen and watch how his bicep flexes. He holds it shut, and you’re pretty sure it’d stay that way even if the person tried to open it for another look.

“Not gonna let anyone interrupt before I get the chance to spill every last drop of my cum inside this cunt,” he mutters.

He’s going as hard as he can now. At least that’s what you choose to believe because you’re certain if he used any more force you’d pass out. His cock rams into all your sweet spots like entering a cheat code to get you to cum.

You claw at the wall pointlessly, there’s nothing to grab onto. But you hit the high nonetheless, cumming all over his cock. You gush around him with your release. It feels like your body goes limp, but he holds you up with no effort. He keeps you up and safely impaled on his dick, using you like a toy as he works himself up to the high.

He cums with a loud groan and makes good on his word to spill inside you. You’d have to get a pill tomorrow. He fucks it deep inside you, holding still for a moment as if to make sure he got it all in you. Only then does he finally slide out. He watches the sticky white liquid ooze out of you. It’s starting to drip down your inner thigh when he tugs your skirt back into place.

Your legs wobble beneath you as he lets you go. He steps away, turning around to put his cock away and fix his appearance slightly. You slump down against the wall, reduced to a curled up heap on the dirty floor of the bathroom, looking up at him like he’s a higher power.

You try to catch your breath, but your body feels like it’s tumbling down a mountain as you come down. Your glossy eyes watch him walk to the counter and fish your phone out of your clutch you’d left there. He checks the time before glancing at himself in the mirror. He then turns to you.

Crouching down to your level, he reaches out and strokes your cheek. He pushes some of your hair out of your face to meet your eyes.

“Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. I might wanna do this again sometime,” he tells you.

With that, he rises to his feet again and exits the bathroom as quickly as he’d entered. You’re still grappling with the events that took place. You barely even register the shots and the screaming coming from the main area of the club.

About fifteen minutes later, you manage to get to your feet. You pull your panties up again and fix yourself up as best you can. Then you leave the bathroom. The music is still blaring, but it feels quiet. There’s no one else inside; spare the dead body on the stairs leading up to the private rooms.

Bright sirens wail outside and lights begin painting your skin as you walk to the glass doors labeled ‘exit.’ Your shoes trudge through some blood on the floor and crunch on shards of broken glass. You step outside, dodging people’s questions about your wellbeing and avoiding other groups of people crying their eyes out. All of it feels surreal. None of it really has your focus.

All you’re thinking about is how you could see him again.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro imagine #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #smut

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 13 days

Text

thinking about book 6 battle simulations

I was thinking a lot about book 6 lately! (Not for any particular reason, I was just ruminating, haha...)

During the examination segment, Riddle, Azul, and Vil were put into one group and Jamil and Leona were put in the other group. Idia then put them into VR simulations in which (simulated) Trey, Jade, Rook, Kalim, and Ruggie approached the subjects to upset them. This is for the purposes of STYX to gauge their combative capabilities and blot accumulation. What I noticed on another read of these parts was that Idia makes sure to inform all the subjects they are about to enter a VR simulation BEFORE they dive in... and yet despite this, group 1 (Riddle, Azul, Vil) was still caught off-guard when Trey, Jade, and Rook attacked them. Meanwhile, Jamil in group 2 automatically defers to Kalim but Leona is the one who notices something is fishy about the situation. Now, now... this is interesting 👁️ Why might this be, I wonder~ (You bet I'm going to analyze the heck out of these small details!)

***Main story spoilers up to book 6!!***

First thing to consider: it's possible that perhaps the characters don't fully understand what "VR simulation" is, as most of them did take a while to come to their senses. Of the 5 subjects, Riddle is the most likely to fall into this category. He seems to be slightly confused by the concept of a "virtual space" when Idia explains the examination to them (which likely conflicts with Riddle's very traditional understanding of "tests"). Furthermore, Riddle has expressed in Endless Halloween Night that his mother did not allow him to play video games or to watch TV so he'd usually do crosswords or solve other puzzles for fun. He's not completely technologically inept (like Malleus), but Riddle does have a somewhat limited scope of how items and procedures are to be used, especially if it lies beyond its normal means. It's likely that he has not thought of VR simulation being used in the scenario in which he finds himself in now.

The other 4 subjects, however, most likely understand what VR is and shouldn't be confused by the simulation. Azul is very savvy and keeps up with trends, which can factor into his business(es). He even brings up streaming as a potential source of revenue in book 6; man has his fingers on the pulse of pop culture to know what will sell. Vil, being a celebrity and the leader of the Film Research Club, must have an understanding of various technologies used to achieve certain effects (especially as director of his own projects). Jamil constantly deals with Kalim's requests and, being in Kalim's social bubble, must get exposure to all kinds of crazy technologies. Leona, being a knowledgeable prince, surely must understand the concept of VR simulation.

Okay, so... why did they (mostly) still get "tricked" by the simulation anyway? The key words today would be "trust" and "dependence".

Thinking about it, there's one thing that separates group 1 from 2: the boys in group 1 have a tendency to rely on others for support and validation whereas the boys in group 2 are consistently shown to be more independent than their peers (even if they, too, seek validation). Let's go through them one by one!

GROUP 1

Riddle

Riddle is presented as a tyrant that rules with an iron fist, particularly in book 1 where he stars as the main antagonist. However, it's also pretty blatant that Riddle has become increasingly aggressive due in part to others enabling him. Ace specifically calls out Trey for this, saying that his failure to intervene or to quell Riddle's temper has resulted in Heartslabyul students suffering for it. Cater is also complacent, as he and/or Trey often follow Riddle's orders and remove Adeuce from the dorm multiple times in book 1. Riddle relies on these upperclassmen to listen to him and carry out his bidding, and he feels validated when they do. It's a lesson he has learned from his mother. He is the most powerful, and therefore he should be the most correct. Notice how Riddle is quick to anger when others refuse to obey him and how often he demands for them to conform. He becomes enraged when the Heartslabyul mobs rebel and chuck an egg at him. But what hurts him most of all is, perhaps, Trey turning too. Riddle was mad about the mobs acting up, yes, but he still did not overblot. Not yet, at least. No, Riddle overblots only AFTER he tries to attack Ace with the rose trees... and Trey steps in with his UM to overwrite Riddle's collar, turning it into cards. Trey's relationship with Riddle cannot be understated here. In this very moment, Trey, Riddle's childhood friend (one of his first friends), vice dorm leader, silent yes man, his most trusted confidant, has betrayed him. He is proving Riddle wrong, that the most powerful mage is not the most correct. "Are YOU going to tell me that I'm wrong too? After all I've done to protect the rule of law?! [...] I... I refuse to believe this!"

From these examples, we can clearly see that Riddle is someone who is reliant on others--not that he isn't a capable mage, but rather he is reliant on others for his own sense of self-worth. Indeed, even in his post-OB flashback, he indicates feeling proud and excited when his mother praises him for good grades or successfully performing a spell. This is reiterated many times over in book 1, in which Riddle feels satisfied and even smug when his students fall in line, and spirals into uncontrollable rage when they don't. There are a select few whom Riddle has chosen to place his faith in, and Trey is one of them. Trey, who gave him his first slice of strawberry tart and has been supporting him as his vice for over a year now (since Riddle became dorm leader in his first week as a first-year student; now is the start of Riddle's second year). That's why he feels so hurt when Trey is suddenly chastising him, telling him that he's behaving irrationally.

If we reexamine Riddle's post-OB flashback, you'll notice that Riddle says he is lonely without every outright stating the word "lonely". The phrasing makes it sound as though Riddle does not understand his own loneliness, like he doens't even know the word or want to acknowledge it as reality. He is awkward and unsure around Trey and Chenya, who invite him out to play. He follows his mother's rules because he believes that is what will bring him happiness. He wonders why, in spite of following all those rules, he still feels hollow inside. Then, once Riddle has awoken, he confesses that he always wanted to play more with Trey, and that he wants to talk with everyone after a meal. Riddle. at his core, craves companionship rather than dominating his peers. Trey was one of the few friends he ever had, and so Riddle puts a lot of stock into his support. This may be why he was quick to believe the fake Trey in the simulation, and why he looked so shocked when Trey started attacking him. Here is a boy who has already been betrayed once, experiencing that same betrayal again at the hands of his childhood friend. How scared must he be of losing his oldest friend, of Trey turning his back on him or seeing him as a monster? 😭

Azul

Due to the bullying he experienced in his childhood, Azul works very hard to maintain a new image of someone who is cool, confident, and composed. Part of that is passing himself off as someone who is large and in charge, while posing Jade and Floyd as his lackies who do whatever he tells them to. The reality of the matter is that the twins are very much... there to do their own thing, and they just kind of go along with Azul's schemes because they seem to be a lot of fun. When you stop to consider it though, Azul definitely puts a lot of trust into the Leech brothers even though they're both shady and can be flippant at times. It's the twins going around and advertising Azul's services to the student population. It's the twins who help him expand his business and acquire new items (as all three's Dorm Uniform vignettes are about the Octatrio conspiring to acquire the rights to and/or advertise their new drinks). It's the twins who are asked to run the Mostro Lounge whenever Azul is absent. Time and time again, Azul falls back on Jade and Floyd. They've been with him since middle school.

In book 4, both Azul and Floyd insist that they aren't really "childhood friends", but they do consider each other "equals". As Azul describes it, "I strongly doubt Jade or Floyd have any binding allegiance to me. This is all and elaborate game of pretend to them. [...] If I made a poor choice as leader--or even simply a boring one... They would turn on me instantly and seize the dorm leader seat for themselves." Floyd follows with, "We ain't got any plans to challenge him, either... for now, anyway. Aha ha! [...] We stick with [Azul] now 'cause it's fun. If it stops bein' fun, we drop him like a bad habit. Easy." The twins and Azul are both very aware that their relationship is a temporary and transactional one. Azul himself has even fully considered the possibility that Jade and Floyd may one day turn on him. This is all true--however, I also believe it's possible that the Octatrio are not being entirely truthful to themselves and do actually care for one another beyond the confines of their business ties or "having fun". In book 3, Jade and Floyd sense that something is wrong, and their immediate thought is to go check on Azul because of this gut feeling. Jade warns Azul of the consequences of misusing his UM. They are also the first to check on Azul after his OB and insist that he rest and find it within them to gently tease him over the situation. Even the way they address each other is "special". Jade and Azul have a tendency to be polite and use the honorific "-san" after everyone's name... except for each other and Floyd. Floyd, meanwhile, tends to give everyone a nickname... except for Jade and Azul. They drop these naming conventions within their group because that's how much they know and trust each other. Further proof of this is that when Floyd first meets Azul in the post-OB flashback of book 3, he calls Azul "Octopus-chan". Azul used to have a nickname, but no longer has one. This implies that a lack of a nickname actually indicates that Floyd is more intimate with someone than if he had nicknamed them. The same goes with Jade and Azul, who are usually so formal and polite.

I've already established that Azul acts in ways which indicate that he is close to the twins, as much as he tries to deny it and come off as tough. He drops the honorifics for them and he trusts them to do his bidding. What I find most telling, however, is when Jade and Floyd check up on him right as he's about to OB. "Jade! Floyd! Ahhh, you've finally come back to me," Azul says (if you listen to his voice, he sounds SO relieved). "Would you believe that thanks to these FOOLS, I've lost all of my contracts? Which is why I'm going to need your powers now. Come on, give them to me!" This is notable because, prior to this, he was forcibly ripping powers out of mob students. But now with the twins--Azul makes a CONSCIOUS decision to ask Jade and Floyd for them to willingly give up their powers to him. Azul is emotional and acting without tact here, but he STILL stops to ask the twins for them to surrender their magic. He cares about getting their consent specifically. When the brothers deny him and Floyd says Azul has become lame, that's when Azul snaps. His loyal henchmen are refusing his request and he's lost all his accumulated wealth. He's going to become the weak, friendless crybaby he once way all over again.

Knowing all of this, it makes sense why Azul was as startled as Riddle was when the simulated Jade attacked him. Azul claims that he anticipates this day--but he still seems to disturbed when it actually happens. It's true that perhaps this surprise comes in part from Azul having no indication that the twins were getting bored of him, so this is coming out of left field in his perspective. But... it could also be that he's hurt by the sudden shift, even if he and the twins have been telling themselves all along that they'd toss each other out without a second thought once they lose interest. This calls back to Azul's concerns right before he overblots: that his "business partners" (whom he refuses to call his friends) have lost interest in him and will now leave him alone and with nothing. He relies on the brothers not only for labor, but as his company and his confidants. When that's taken away from him... what does Azul have left that's worth anything?

Vil

Vil is another person who typically passes as very independent. He looks after himself quite well and is often the one nagging others to do the same. The thing with him is... he's still a celebrity at the end of the day, and a celebrity like him is always aware of his public image and the eyes on him. That's Vil's Achille's heel: as a celebrity, he is constantly concerned with how others perceive him. This is a lesson he learns in book 5--that he shouldn't let other people's judgment of him or a silly popularity contest determine his self-worth. Ah, but let's remember... book 6 begins like a mere DAY after book 5. Sure, Vil's character arc may be over, but that does not mean that he has suddenly completely changed. Up until yesterday, he was aggressively training to overcome his rival and to show the whole world his true beauty. Vil still, to some degree, finds value in how he looks and how others see him, as it strongly ties into his career. To this end, he sees Rook as a valuable individual.

Now, there's a lot of contention about whether or not Rook is a good influence on Vil or not, as some interpret his commentary as derogatory or unnecessarily critical. I'm not going to get into that; here, I am going to speak plainly about how Vil himself views Rook's feedback. In Vil's Labwear vignettes, he confides in Trey that he relies on Rook's keen observational skills to reflect the truth back to him. A celebrity must look at his best, and he can count on Rook to not mince his words and point out even the most minute of changes at a quick glance. (Vil himself is also extremely strict with himself, but lacks the superhuman abilities that his vice dorm leader does.) Rook has been doing this since long before he even transferred to Pomefiore, critiquing Vil's performances and such, not just his looks alone. This led into long discussions and debates between the two, which demonstrates how much Vil values Rook's perspective. Even back then, Rook was one of Vil's greatest supporters, but not exactly a totally blind "yes man". He is offering the kind of feedback that Vil seeks, not empty, sugar-coated niceties. This is why, in spite of his betrayal at the end of book 5, Vil eventually accepts it, as he trusts Rook's keen eye and judgment. What's interesting about book 6's examinations is that Vil seemingly takes charge of his group. When approached by the simulated classmates, Vil steps up and, after a moment of silence, says, "No... It's nothing. Let's go." (Vil is known as a skilled actor and can easily sniff out an act himself. Was the silence hesitation as he, Azul, and Riddle reevaluate the scene? Hard to say, but I'm assuming that STYX's state-of-the-art tech was able to perfectly simulate Rook, and thus confused Vil and co. for a while.) Rook strikes him with a spell, and that invokes a great emotional reaction from Vil, who seems to be the most aghast of the group. The fake Rook then declares that he's going to claim the dorm leader seat from Vil, which shocks him. "As you know, I appreciate beautiful things. Hence... I can hardly allow someone who's acted as ugly as you to occupy the Fairest Queen's throne!" The scene then cuts away to a battle. Now, while we don't get any extra dialogue from Vil to show his reaction, one interpretation could be that he was stunned into silence. Why is this a believable occurrence? Because the fake Rook called Vil out for "ugly" behavior. This is significant because back when Vil was overblotting, he was desperately shouting for people to "not look at him" because he's "so ugly". Here, ugliness does not mean literal ugliness or something that is visually unappealing. The "ugliness" being spoken of refers to being morally rotten, as Vil was speaking on his guilt after resorting to dirty tactics to try and take out his rival (when he had previously sworn to win on his own merits alone). The simulated Rook might be referring to this, which induces great shame in Vil, who is aware of the weight of his sins. Heck, book 6 even starts with Vil taking accountability and sincerely apologizing to the whole NRC Tribe for causing them trouble. Vil blames himself for their team losing, as it was his OB that forced them to fight and physically wore them out before their big performance. "What does it matter who forgives me?! I can't... I can't forgive myself!" He may still have lingering guilt regarding this incident, hence why he's the one predominantly reacting when the vice dorm leaders betray group 1. His mirror and huntsman, who speaks only the truth to him, now tells him of his ugliness. What else can that be, if not the truth reflected back at him?

GROUP 2

Jamil

To be clear, Jamil did not automatically go after the simulated Kalim. He automatically defers and tries to go along with his dorm leader (and only starts fighting once Leona declares the simulation for the sham it really is). Why? Surely Jamil is sharper witted than that. To this, I say... of course, it's just that Jamil's so used to being a servant that he reverts back to submissiveness as soon as he's put in a circumstance where there's a power dynamic. He’s not the one relying on Kalim—Kalim is often the one relying on him. You need proof of Jamil's servile mindset? He was intentionally talking down his own skills ever since book 4 and, according to Azul, has been purposefully maintaining painfully average grades (which, in of itself, takes a lot of effort). Admittedly though, those are conscious choices, not unconscious ones. But how about back in book 5, when Vil announces him as one of the lead vocalists and Jamil's immediate reaction is not to accept it, but to humble himself and insist that Kalim would be better suited for it (when Kalim actually isn't)? Jamil has to stop himself, back up, and accept the nomination, which he has earned for himself, rather than relinquish it to someone less deserving. Years and years of serving someone else, forced to play the part of the inferior servant, will beat that attitude into his mind, regardless of how much he resents the position.

Even now, Jamil feels like he usually has to follow someone else's lead. Leona, the upperclassman and dorm leader, provides that lead for him in the VR simulation. This leadership + independence is something they would butt heads over later in book 6, as Jamil begins to act overprotective of his current charge (Leona) as he does with Kalim. While Jamil has played the part of Kalim's attendant and childhood friend, the reality is that Jamil cannot stand those roles. He desires to stand out and to be recognized--something which is evident in book 4. Before he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he's always framing himself in a positive and helpful light to them and speaks humbly about his abilities. After he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he has them heap him with praise that he had never gotten in his childhood. In the post-OB flashback, we see Jamil's parents scolding him for outperforming Kalim, even in something as simple as a game. The headmaster of a great arcane academy overlooks him in favor of someone far less capable.

Jamil knows he can be great, but he's intentionally being told to not reach those heights. He feels stifled and trapped, and no one understands his plight that he cannot escape from. This results in Jamil distancing himself from others and coming to rely on himself and himself alone to make his wishes come true. He can't rely on his family, who are beholden to their legacy of being servants to the Asims. He can't confide in friends because none of them are quite like him, and Kalim would ignorantly brush it off. He can't tell third parties because, as Crowley as demonstrated, they dismiss him outright. Jamil, as he acts throughout book 6, is doing so in an effort to find his own strength and to be able to act on it with the freedom he seeks. To play support not because he has to, but because he, the individual, wants to. As Jamil states before overblotting, he wants to "be free" from these precarious circumstances where a wrong move could doom him and his family... but he only has so many liberties to work with. This leaves him in a strange limbo situation where he still isn't fully independent but desperately wishes to be. We see him fighting against the restraints, and to varying degrees of effectiveness depending on the context and his state of mind within that context.

Leona

From a young age, Leona seems to have worked tirelessly to obtain recognition. Like Jamil, Leona was in such a position (second-born prince) that, despite his efforts, he kept being rejected and beaten down again and again. As we see in his post-OB flashback, this is what eventually broke Leona’s spirit and made him develop a pessimistic outlook on his prospects for the future. The thing is, even though Leona does not really have hope for himself, he still manages to inspire hope in other people, from underclassmen to the students of his dorm. Book 2 is entirely about Savanaclaw looking to Leona to save their own futures, and him trying to do so for their sakes. His club mates extol how he can so quickly hone in on their best skills and advise them on how to sharpen those skills. Jack admires Leona’s plays, so much so that he wished to one day play alongside Leona. He’s even able to get beastmen of different species to get along and live peacefully under his rule when this has historically been difficult for his older brother to manage. All in all, Leona has all the makings of a leader. He stands out from the crowd, knows when to leverage his power and intelligence (playing smarter, not harder), and commands with ease.

… That being said, Leona’s presence can be so powerful at times that it’s also isolating. This was the case for his childhood, which is depicted to us as many palace servants being fearful of Leona’s devastatingly strong magic. He also uses this strong magic against his dorm mates when their intentions clash in book 2–and he comes close to killing someone in the process. He’s also just notorious in general for being grumpy or unfriendly toward others, including one instance in book 5 when he seems upset that you’ve showed up in his classroom. Leona drives people away from him, whether because of his strength or because of his prickly attitude.

At the same time, i would also describe Leona as a tactician that keeps some degree of distance from those he commands. He makes it clear he's willing to use others to achieve his own goals and does so many times over. Book 2, when he tries to take out Malleus to help his dorm leaders while also trying to prove to himself that he's capable. Book 3, when he helps Yuu and co. dissolve the contracts including one of his own he made with Azul, etc. Leona knows how to best use his own abilities, as well as those of others. That's what makes him so formidable--he can read others and judge the situation extremely well, and he knows when it is smart to fight and when to tactically retreat (such as in book 6, when he immediately surrenders to STYX agents rather than make a scene). Leona is a self-sufficient man.

There’s the question of Ruggie, of course. Leona is often depicted as lazy and relies on Ruggie to do many daily things for him, such as laundry or fetching food. This obviously throws a wrench into the claim that Leona is more "independent" than those in group 1, doesn't it? He doesn't even come close to Jamil, who actually does all of these tasks himself. Well, not exactly. I don't think "independence" here really comes down to that alone. Riddle, Azul, and Vil all relied on Trey, the twins, and/or Rook to some significant degree to inform their own senses of self. Jamil had this belief of deferring to his "betters" (the Asims) instilled in him, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. And Leona? Leona does not significantly rely on Ruggie for his self-worth (dude was 100% going to sand him in book 2). Yes, Leona was likely looking to help his dorm members in part to prove to himself he is capable of leading a pack, but he gives up when he realizes it was a fruitless effort. He doesn't become reinvigorated to keep it up or to try again, even when his dorm members (Ruggie included) plead to him. Leona is acting selfishly, and he refuses to acknowledge their perspectives--he's set in his own ways and is driven by his own thoughts, not those of the people around him. Perhaps this is what allows him to discern truth from lies with such clarity, as it is Leona who rouses Jamil to his senses and leads the charge against the VR simulation Kalim and Ruggie.

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digitaldiarystuff · 4 months

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Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) Pt. 2

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff/ smut

————

You woke up with a massive hangover and for a second forgot about last night. That was until you picked up your phone to a hundred messages from Pablo, Pablo Gavi.

They started with a slight denial.

“What makes you think that??”

Then got a little freaked out.

“Did someone tell you that?”

And then came the confession.

“Yeah, I am.”

But it didn’t stop there.

“Okay yes I lied but you would never talked to me if you knew, I could sense your panic while asking my age and I freaked out I’m sorry but I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

“Did I blow my chance?”

Then he got agitated.

“Are you going to leave me on delivered for ever?”

“Why aren’t you saying something?”

“Are you asleep?”

You were in shock for most of the texts but him asking if you’re sleeping via text got to you and you started cracking up. He was a little too needy and now that you know you have a 4 year age gap and he’s a football star you just couldn’t continue this. However, his infatuation with you kind of made your heart flutter, he was too sweet and persistent for his own good. One text won’t hurt, you thought.

“Yes, I’m asleep at the moment.” you said and got a response in less than a minute.

“Ha ha very funny, have I told you I have a thing for funny girls?”

“You apparently also have a thing for older girls?” you teased. His age was still a problem.

“Maybe I have a thing for you.” and when you didn’t answer “Look I really am sorry I was just afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if you knew my age.” and another “You know billions of people in relationships have age gaps and they all get along well.”

“Are you only this talkative when you’re sober or did I drink too much last night?”

“Okay I understand I’m not on your best side right now but I’m free tonight if you want to meet and I can show you why age doesn’t matter.”

Your mind went blank for a second and you remembered how his hands and lips made you feel last night, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time and to be fair, Pablo looked far more attractive than any guy around you and his text just rose your heartbeat but your obsession with his age was nagging your brain constantly.

“I’m busy” you said terrified about his effect on you.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t”

“The day after?”

“Can’t”

He sent a frowny face emoji and you thought it was the end of the conversation. It made you a little sad but you wouldn’t admit it but a few minutes later you got another text.

“What are you doing now?”

You stupidly thought this was just an ice breaker and said you were at home not doing anything.

“Then send me your address” he texted and you realized he wouldn’t give up easily. You mentally slapped yourself but gave him the address anyway. He said he’d be at yours in half an hour which was too little in your opinion, your home was a mess and so were you.

After taking a quick shower you weighed your options about outfits, it should be put together but not too fancy or he’d think you wanted to look good for him, which you did.

Finally you decided on biker shorts and an oversized crewneck. And you also applied some concealer under your eyes and started putting the dishes in your dishwasher and even stuffed all your clothes lying around your room to your closet hoping he wouldn’t snoop in there. Thank god your roommate was at work and you didn’t have to worry about her. As you were finishing up cleaning around the doorbell rang and you took a breath and saw Pablo on the side, your drunk mind didn’t play any games to you and he still was gorgeous. His hair was wet and he had a duffle bag on his shoulder smiling widely at you.

“Hi” he said timidly.

“Hi, come in” you said and let him in. “Were you at training?” you asked given his outfit and bag. He sat down on one side your L shaped sofa and you sat on the opposite side.

“Yeah, I came straight out of practice.”

“So when you texted me”

“Yes I was still on the pitch.” he said giggling.

You loved how much effort he put into just texting you but also hated how it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to drink anything?” you asked whilst getting up.

“Just water would be fine.” he shrugged and you got 2 bottles giving him one. You hated how your eyes diverted to his biceps while he was grabbing it. He really made this hard for you.

You both took sips and didn’t talk for a moment.

“Look Pablo, I” he cut you off with a kiss. His hands found your cheeks and you reciprocated after a second placing yours on his chest. He backed down after a moment to seize your reaction. But he saw you, eyes closed and enjoying yourself so he kissed you again. This time he was much more confident in his moves, he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him like you weighed nothing, getting you more aroused. Your legs were on both his sides as you never broke the kiss. He then started kissing your chin and neck making his way around your body and you used this opportunity to get rid of his shirt.

His hands held your lower back and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him invitingly. His eyes rolled back for a second and said “Can I?” and you just nodded. He took your hoodie off and saw you weren’t wearing any bra underneath.

“I see you’ve prepared for me.” he cockily smirked and you rolled your eyes but his confidence made you want him even more. He hungrily attacked your breasts with his mouth while you were rocking your hips and pulling the hair on the nape of his neck. You could feel his bulge underneath you growing every second. He then made you lay down on the couch and went for your leggings, looking to your eyes for permission.

“Please” you said in a small voice and were shocked about how needy you were. This was new to you.

He smiled and rolled your leggings down your legs. Suddenly you felt overly exposed and reality hit for a second until he saw you were wearing a burgundy lacy thong, he smiled but kept his mouth shut. You could practically see the lust in his eyes and that made all insecurities disappear. He started toying with the hem of your underwear and you were barely able to wait.

“C’mon Pablo I need you to show me age doesn’t matter.” you whined hoping to get some action and it seemed like it worked. He didn’t even took your thong off just shoved it aside and started to pepper some kisses around your core. He also started to rub your inner thighs and when you were about to complain again, he shushed you with a lick across your folds and all your words disappeared immediately. You forgot how to breathe for a second but Pablo kept on going and going until you were arching your back and screaming his name. After you came, he wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath but he was about to explode if he stopped now. He was a goner as soon as he heard his name roll over your tongue as high pitched moans. He freed his member and started running his hands over it a few times before reaching out his pocket and pulling a condom out, you rolled your eyes again but he smirked and said “I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you”

He put it on your entrance and checked if you’re okay with this but all you could muster was a nod. You were still seeing clouds because of the orgasm he gave you mere seconds ago. He coated himself with your juices and pushed it in. You yelped at the feeling but he wasn’t going to give you time to adjust as he started thrusting with all his power. All the practice he goes through daily made his stamina another level and his movements never slowed down only sped up and after a while you both became undone.

Both of you were still trying to catch your breaths, his head was on your chest and his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and you melted, he looked like an angel even though he did some devilish stuff to you minutes ago, his eyes were the best brown you’ve ever seen with hints of honey and his post hair sex was even more appealing than his regular hair.

You didn’t say anything but he still understood what you wanted to say and kissed your lips, not like the previous ones fueled by lust, just adoration and you smiled into the kiss realizing maybe age really didn’t matter.

————

note: okokok just hear me out, this is the first time i’m ever trying to write smut and i don’t even know what to think but i hope you enjoy it, lmk if you have any ideas

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killzenin · 9 months

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💭I ONLY HAVE ONE THING ON MY SILLY BRAIN AT THE MOMENT...AND IT'S TOJI AS A MILITARY SUPERIOR ! !

📍cock warming, secret sex, unprotected sex, pussy teasing/playing with it, clit slapping, filthy talk, 'sir' kink, implied age gap.

where you both meet after being selected to be part of an underground and elite task force deployed by the united nations. with the sole objective of monitoring and taking down a global criminal ring that imposes a bioterrorist threat in the form of a new drug. a well-rounded and respected captain toji fushiguro of JSDF (japan's military defense) became the superior in charge of your squad unit.

and ever since the two of you crossed paths in australia, the primary base of your units deployment, he hasn't kept his eyes to himself. always keeping tabs on you while the squad is out in surveillance on suspected grounds. subtly asking squad members you've grown close with of your likes and dislikes.

once he has full knowledge of them, he's ordering to place supplies of your favorite food and discard whatever you hate. he ensures that you have the best tactical gear out of all of his subordinates. and saving the best, most modern artillery for you to play around with.

it's no secret toji has a cold and stoic persona, so he really never outwardly showed his interest. plus, he was your superior, and you were all in an important task. it would be wrong of him to take advantage of his position, experience, and age to hinder the mission altogether.

nevertheless, he is a risk taker, danger thrilled him, it set his soul ablaze. he wouldn't join the military for nothing. that is why he aimed the perfect shot at the perfect target. you.

and as always, he hit straight on the bullseye. oh, what a joy it was for him to have his feelings reciprocated that night you both were at a club undercover. the way that you pulled him by his waist belt and kissed his neck left him speechless. of course, at that time, your cover was almost blown over. anything to keep it intact was a must, with whichever means necessary.

toji, however, was not going to let this once in a lifetime opportunity slide. forcing you away from his body only to dive in and press his enthusiastic lips to yours. the way your lips felt on his made him almost lose any sense of self he had. and whichever sense he had left that was hanging by a thread, was cut loose as soon as you told him to kiss you more.

and he did and kept going. and hasn't stopped kissing you, even now as his thick cock was buried comfortably inside your spasming pussy. he pressed along wet kisses at the sides of your neck while he thought on an email response to his own superior.

"princess, what do you think is an appropriate response to: stop being a fucking annoying dick and let me do my job how i see fit?"

"you fucking jerk toji, fuck me now before somebody comes in!"

"nah, he would kill me if i asked him to fuck me, he has a wife you know." his dismissal to your pleading made you furious. and the lack of respect you were giving him ticked him off.

"and am i a jerk now huh?" his rough fingertips swiftly smacked your puffed out clit, "the fuck you mean jerk?" another slap came in your way, sending pleasuring shocks through out your body.

"do you want me to get meaner? and why should i fuck you, mmm? you were the one coming into my office like a needy little bitch in heat, begging to sit on my dick. and...toji?"

slap! "where the fuck is your sense of respect?" you shiver once more, leaning your back on his chest and clenching around his fat length, making him moan in excitement, "ya lil brat! you love to be put on your place, hmm?"

"s-sir, please, please, ah- i'm sorry sir. i just- i just really want you~" you squeezed your pussy more, hoping he would lose it. and due to the fact that he was massaging your clit. you could feel him twitch inside you. you really needed him to ram his cock and fill you to the brim of his hot cum. you craved him too much.

"toji~ sir, please, dump all your cum in me pleaseee~ fucking fill me up with your cock sir~ use me!" your moaning mess and your dripping pussy was making him oblige.

"all right sweet girl, be quiet f'r me, okay...bend over the desk and let me see that pretty cunt of yours." you stood up, and toji slid his dick out. making a 'pop' sound resonate his office once he was out of you.

he admired the ring of built mixed juices at his dicks base. but his full attention shifted and began to admire your leaking pussy lips on full display. you fingers spread your lips apart. toji almost laughed while observing your cunt grasping the air, aching to hold on to something and be filled once more.

"i'll never get enough of this cute pussy." he purrs, teasing it around with his cock head. then tapping your agape hole a few times before finally pushing in. "all fucking mine."

`⌁ ◜remember, this is fiction, i have no idea how the military works at all and probably never will lmao. if an irl friend of mine sees this, then they'll know why. all i know is that a gun goes pew pew, so most of this scenario is incredibly unacurate in that aspect :p. inspired by and a special thank you to my one and only, my baby daddy, köning 🤭// i have other works published and more is on the way ! go check them out ! !◞

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ch0wen · 1 year

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Get a Little Action In - Tangerine x Fem!Reader | NSFW

gif made by @dcbicki

warnings: Smut, 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex, cursing, & violence

“Sorry,” a man, with his gold front tooth glinting, smiled apologetically.

He had initially bumped into you with a hand grazing at your thigh and pulled it back quickly once he realized. You’re none the wiser about the potential pervy aspect of that action and smiled back silently as voiceless forgiveness.

Next to your spot at the bar, on the right, two more stools are occupied. Tangerine’s grip tightened on his glass and Lemon rested a hand on his wrist. 'Not worth it', he’s mouthing to his brother. But you can start to feel the heat of Tangerine’s look boring into the side of your face. Whatever he may be worried about, he should at least recognize it was an accident. You can hold your own in most situations. And you truly only have eyes for him. He knows that one for certain. But this guy doesn’t. And for Tangerine, that means Gold Tooth is slowly pushing his luck.

The thud of a shot glass smacking against the bar top drew your attention to the pair you came here with. Lemon hopped off his barstool and took a step back while wiping the remnants of his drink away from his mouth.

“Right. Well, the night is nearing its end for me. This bird is leaving the nest. So, you two lovebirds can fly freely and all that bullshit!”

“Are you just testing out every avian reference you can make in one go or...?”

Lemon grinned at his brother’s annoyance then leaned over to kiss your temple, “he gets testy on whiskey.” He warned against your skin.

Lemon moved to wrap a hand around the back of Tangerine’s neck to press their foreheads together,

“Behave.”

Tangerine gave him a tight nod but gently pushed him away by his chest,

“Get home safe, mate.”

You shared some hugs and goodbyes with Lemon before it’s just you and your boyfriend together in this bar.

Tangerine stayed standing after conversing with Lemon last. Taking the final swig of his Bourbon and setting it behind you on the bar top. He doesn't draw his arm back but rather cages you in with his body. You're spun around in your seat looking up at him. He smiled down at you before leaning in to share a gentle kiss.

Somewhat imitating his brother’s previous action, his one hand held the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You smiled against his plump lips and enjoyed this shared moment. Not wanting to have too much PDA, you pulled back and gave his biceps a squeeze.

Normally, when you lock eyes with Tangerine it always feels like he is the only one there with you. Except for today, you’re brought back to reality, as people dodging others to make their way through this club are causing the patrons next to you to bump into your side. It shakes you out of your tunnel vision every few minutes.

“Want another round?” he hummed. Then fully moved to the right side of you to speak with the bartender after your nod of confirmation. You swiveled in your seat to have your back to the sweating, dancing bodies on the floor. Not knowing where some of them end and begin in the dim lighting. Another jostle to the leg of your stool had you firmly steadying your heels on the bar foot-rail.

You cannot truly blame the bar-goers as they have no control over the regularly moving traffic in this building. This place is overcrowded and the noise of the music is deafening but you take what you get. You’re happy to have this opportunity to join the Twins on a chill Saturday night out, which has now become a date night. It offers you that sense of normalcy with the man that you’ve been yearning for.

He’s subconsciously fixing his mustache in the wall mirror across the bar, as the bartender fixed the drinks. You took this moment to admire him. But the feeling of a quick squeeze to your ass turned your grin into a frown with a slow realization.

Both of Tangerine's hands are above his waist. You glanced over to your left and eye up the man who had been pressed against your side for a good majority of the night.

“The fuck?”

“Whoops!"

It’s the guy with the gold tooth. Who's smile earlier matched the one he's bearing currently. Now it made you uneasy. It feels more smarmy than sympathetic. You lurched away, trying not to cause a scene, especially in front of your hot-headed boyfriend. But this belligerent man one hundred percent, deliberately grabbed your ass. He had a very punchable self-satisfied smirk on, as he tried to feign innocence while sipping from his drink.

The touch from another hand snaked its way around your waist. You jerked in your seat before you realized you were subconsciously pressing your back closer to Tangerine during that interaction.

Tangerine sounded amused, "You alright, bunny? Why do you keep jumping?"

“Nothing. He just touched me I think.”

He bent down to hear you better, “What?”

“I just think he grabbed my ass.”

“What?”

The way he reacted was unsettlingly calm. He squeezed your waist before standing straight and making an effort to size up the man in question.

“Please. It’s okay. Let’s just go to the other end of the bar. Or we can dance! You promised we could.”

Tangerine ignored you, moving closer to the man. He looks relaxed but you see the veins in his neck flexing. You cannot hear everything that's being said since he’s on the other side of Gold Tooth, but catch him mouthing things like 'apologize to the lady' and 'bash your fucking face in'.

A sinking feeling washed over you because it does not seem like this will lead anywhere but towards escalation. Tangerine has never had reasonable reactions to high-tension situations. It's not something you’re supportive of but can understand that sometimes reactions like that are crucial in his line of work. Where an emotionally labile choice could end with a victory or demise.

Except Gold Tooth, who he’s now going head-to-head with, is an 'Average Joe'. Not a man affiliated to a gang or a weapon-wielding mobster. As a trained fighter, Tangerine has a clear, unfair advantage and you’re reminded there are a LOT of witnesses if anything happens.

Gold Tooth had been poking at Tan’s chest with whatever insults he was hurling his way then gave him a hard shove—pushing him back into a group of women.

And, we’re off.

Tangerine immediately concentrated on helping one woman up, who had toppled over due to the sudden collision of twice her body weight. His mouth was moving, probably with a rush of his English charm, as he clasped her hand between his. His eyes scanned the rest of the women in this surrounding Bachelorette party to ensure they were all unharmed.

Then in a dizzying second, he turned to punch Gold Tooth in the gut. Causing him to double forward. One of his friends, sporting a worn maroon fedora, shouted something at Tangerine and grabbed at his wrist. Fedora used his other hand to smash a half-full beer bottle into Tangerine's restricted arm. Tangerine wastes no time reacting by breaking free from his grasp, and grabbing Fedora by the back of his collar for his own pummeling.

“T!”

He ignored your plea as he, as promised, bashed Fedora’s head into the bar top. A man, in an ugly green shirt, tried pulling Tangerine away from the assault. Tangerine dropped Fedora's limp body to the floor and elbowed Greenie in the throat. A gargled choke escaped him, as Greenie immediately lurched back and scurried away from the fight.

Tangerine whirled his body to a degree after feeling a firm hand on his shoulder and made eye contact with Goddamn Gold Tooth. The mother fucking guy who started this entire ordeal. He mentally notes his brother would reason this man to be 'a true fucking Diesel!'

Tangerine got punched square in the nose. You stared helplessly at other patrons as your boyfriend returned a few blows back. Harder. No one is making a move to stop this. Why can't anyone else get the idea that maybe this isn’t a normal bar fight? Is it not obvious based on how calculated and fast his moves are? Tangerine is skilled and you’re beginning to worry he may snap. The trajectory of these people's lives may just well change, if they’re about to witness a murder or two.

You look to the bartender to plead for his assistance in stopping your raging boyfriend by at least calling the cops. But this tattooed riddled, muscular barkeep raised his hands up in surrender. There was no way he was stepping in based on the rate these men were being taken down by Tangerine.

A crack echoed over the pounding music, and once you realize the source of the sound, it's gut-churning. You whipped your head in the direction it came from. The vicinity in which your boyfriend was just assaulting a man.

Lo and behold, there he was with fresh blood slowly starting to drip from his forehead and nose. Gold Tooth, now passed-out, was caught by one of his friends that was smart enough to avoid being in T’s warpath.

“Did you just fucking head butt him?”

“Let’s go,” he barked, grabbing your hand. Hauling you away from the scene he caused.

“Oh, yeah, like no one knows to look for the well-dressed man that stood out at this dive bar! You’re not going to get away with this.”

You’re hissing at him over the music, as he wove you both towards the back doors that lead into an alleyway. The quick transition from booming chaos to thrumming silence had you tensely staring at Tangerine.

“I think I just did,” he murmured.

“You have anger problems."

He tsked, “You’re right. Do you reckon I should go back in there and apologize? Shake their hands and buy them all pints? Would that make for a happy ending?”

“Fuck you,” your arms are crossed. Trying your hardest to come off as annoyed. But he was standing in front of you with a watchful gaze. He's always so handsome, but especially when he’s just lovingly staring at you. And even with blood dripping down his face paired with blown-out pupils from his recent acts of violence. He was looking truly ravishing.

“That was the plan.”

He swooped in closer to pick you up by your thighs and pressed you into the wall of the building. You gasped at that motion with Tangerine’s breath hot on your neck.

“Can I have you? Here?”

"Oh, he's in gentleman mode now.”

He grumbled against your skin in response and pressed his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

Clearly, you were both too turned on by all the adrenaline.

“Please?”

You rocked down against him, “yes. You can fuck me. Make it quick.”

He frantically fumbled with this belt while moving your underwear to the side before fully thrusting his cock into you. With a pained cry, your nails dug into his shoulders at his swift motion.

“Sorry, love,” he mouthed a kiss under your ear. His hips already rocking into you at a harsh pace. His gripping hands flexed on your hips, as he fucked you harder into the brick wall.

The noise of your sex was obscene. Echoing off the walls of the club but mixing in and fading out with the music vibrating the bricks against your back. Tangerine pushed his face against your neck. While gasping and biting at your heated skin. You’re close to cumming alone from hearing those very grunts he’ made. And your pussy was throbbing with the need to cum as his pounding continued.

Tangerine shoved his cock impossibly deeper and faster into your weeping pussy, his moans muffled on the mouthful of skin he was biting.

But the sound of sirens rang louder in your ears than the beating of your racing heart or Tangerine’s moans. Your hand smacked against his shoulder,

“We need to go!”

Tangerine opted for long, slow movements. His cock never leaving you. You shot him a warning glare as he tried to challenge you.

Reluctantly, but not needing to be told ‘no’ again, he lowered you down with some angry muttering along the lines of ‘these fucking clowns in the red-and-blue giving me blue balls.’

tags: @wanderingsoul6261 @justshutupmars @stregatadallostregatto @earth-elemental18 @dolcebaby21-blog

#bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine and lemon #bullet train 2022 #tangerine x fem!reader #atj #tangerine smut #tangerine x you #bullet train smut

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thefanficmonster · 1 month

Text

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam golbach #nate hardy #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating #x reader

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aclockmaker · 1 year

Text

more actors au continued from here

Shooting the first season is a fever dream. Creating and playing in a world that no one else gets to see yet—no reviews, no public, just them. The cast is tight, right away. Eddie, like, loves them. He's already made plans to go to Robin's family's house in Joshua Tree this summer.

Eddie and Steve don’t have that many scenes together. Eddie knows, guiltily, exactly when they’re all shooting.

It’s not just what goes on when the cameras are rolling, either. (Which is, like, still insane. Still makes Eddie feel like he's taken club drugs. And maybe he's not the only one, because—)

It's also that Steve is more likely to ask him to hang out, just the two of them, after they shoot together. Eddie could text him or ask him but he has a complex set of rules for how often he's allowed to be the one initiating it, because, well. He's nursing a pretty bad crush here. It's deeply unprofessional.

In the episode before this, Eddie confides in Nancy’s character, their teen journalist-detective, that he has something he thinks he needs to tell her. Something that’s going to blow her mind. But they’re just in the hall at school, the bell ringing, so he can’t do it right now. It’s his own little “I’ve got a secret, Veronica Mars. A good one.” (He’s watched as many dead-girl tv shows as he can to bone up for the role—all the classics going back to Twin Peaks. Veronica Mars is uniquely applicable because Lily does appear in flashbacks, and even though they’re subverting the trope by having a guy get killed, they all know what kind of story they’re telling.)

In the scene they shoot tonight, Steve's character comes to Eddie's house that same night before he can get to Nancy to try to convince him not to tell her. It's not clear what Steve thinks he knows, when he climbs in through Eddie's window, only that he's practically begging Eddie not to do it. He starts off aggressive, like they're yet again about to get into a physical fight. But the fact that Eddie lets him in speaks to the fact that maybe there's a little more to their relationship. And then Steve's character breaks down, cries a little, and it's really—something, to be wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders in front of the camera and the crew, under the lights. Eddie is a professional, and he's perfectly capable of slotting those feelings into their correct file folders for later perusal, but—it's something. He's given Steve bro hugs. He's pretty sure Steve even hugged him for real the first time he saw him after he was cast (it's a blur). The only time they've hugged like this is on film.

He's not surprised when there's a message waiting for him on his phone when he eventually gets back to it post-short scene with Max, whose character lives next to Eddie's in-story. The message itself is a little surprising. Hey, I'm wrapped so I'm going home but do you want to come by? And then an address in Silver Lake.

It's not so crazy. Steve takes awhile to decompress after filming something emotional; he doesn't like to be alone. Eddie has learned this very quickly and has very quickly come to crave being the one Steve decompresses with. It just typically happens on the studio lot, in Steve's trailer. But this is fine, too. It just makes sense. Steve was done for the day so he went home. But he still wants to see Eddie.

Eddie sends back three thumbs up emojis, bangs his head on his steering wheel, and starts driving. He chews a fingernail, wonders if he should stop somewhere to get something to bring. A bottle of wine. But that’s stupid probably—it’s not a dinner party. It’s just two friends hanging out. (If he thinks it a little defensively, that’s because Mike was leaning heavy on the innuendo when he asked Eddie where he was going tonight. “Oh really, with Steve? Huh. It’s nice you two get along so well.” Eddie had just glared at him and moved on. The kid is such a little shit.)

Steve hugs him when he gets there, which is almost funny—now that he’s acted it out, he’ll do it in real life, like an echo. But it doesn’t seem fake, it just seems like that’s what Steve does when someone comes to his house. He’s a little high strung, maybe, in constant motion while he waves Eddie in and offers him a beer.

They end up on the pool deck, beers in hand, sitting with their legs dangling in the water up to their knees. It’s secluded here, big, old trees blocking them from any neighbors’ view.

“So,” Steve says. “Good scene after I left?” It doesn’t sound like what he really wants to ask.

“Yeah, fine,” Eddie agrees. “You know what Max is like—she’s too cool for school.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Steve laughs.

“Never,” Eddie agrees. The teasing would never end. He glances at Steve, who seems mostly relaxed, maybe a little hunched in on himself.

“Did you ever, um,” Steve starts, looking out at the water. “Date a co-star?”

Eddie’s brain whites out a little, just static. “Uhh. I thought you were going to ask if I thought you looked weird when you cried, or something.”

Steve sputters. “Do I?”

“No, dude, very pretty crier.” Eddie smiles.

“Thanks I guess,” Steve says, frowning a little.

Eddie chews on his lip. “But, uh. No, I haven’t.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, me either.”

Which is funny, because he’s been linked with a couple of them from previous projects, but Eddie guesses you can’t believe everything you read.

“Is there someone,” Eddie asks carefully, “you want to date?” Steve is close with Robin and Nancy. Eddie can’t see Robin dating a guy, but what does he know.

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “I feel like. I don’t know if it would be a terrible idea, because we work together.” And then he just stops talking.

“I might be able to respond better if I knew who we were talking about here.”

Steve gives him a look. “You do know. Don’t make me say it.”

“Gonna definitely need you to.” And then, because he can't help trying to make Steve laugh. "It's Joyce, right?"

"Please," Steve says, and does laugh a little. "I wish I thought I had a shot with Joyce." She's a legitimately famous actress who Eddie often can't believe he's going to share an IMDB listing with.

"But, uh," Steve goes on. “I don’t want to mess anything up, though.” Now he sounds careful.

Eddie doesn’t know what Steve thinks he’s messing up—their chemistry, he guesses, if he’s not reading this very wrong. Their friendship maybe. The show. Any remaining semblance of professionalism. Eddie is pretty ready to throw most of that stuff out the window—after all, who says just because they hook up the work will suffer? Maybe it’ll be better because Eddie won’t be crushed under the weight of absurd amounts of sexual tension anymore. Not that it’s been a hardship, but…

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” Eddie tells him. “I mean—personally. Who says anything will get messed up?” I think it might be worth it even if it does, he doesn’t add, because it’s shocking to even think it, and obviously too much for the moment. He doesn’t know if he really means it—this show is, like, the opportunity he’s been waiting his whole life for. But he’s already dead on it; there’s only so many flashback scenes they can film as he ages further out of the high school age bracket for a character who can’t get older.

“Yeah, but.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The way we are on the show—“ he shoots a worried little glance at Eddie, who tries not to react outwardly to that, which is hard. “Don’t you think some of that’s because—I mean, for me at least, it is, I’m not saying—for you—"

“Me, too,” Eddie assures him before he hurts himself. “But—okay, you brought this up, not me. What do you want, then?”

“Dude, I wish I knew,” Steve says. “I mean—“ he glances at Eddie— “I know what I want, but I don’t know what we should do. But I just felt like I was going crazy, and the only person I really wanted to tell was, well, you.”

Oh. “Steve,” Eddie says, almost a warning. He wants to offer that they can hook up and it won’t mean anything and nothing will change. He wants to offer that they can date and nothing bad will happen. It’s all stupid, impossible to promise.

“I know,” Steve says miserably. “Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s almost unbearably sweet that Steve is so bent out of shape over him. “Come on, we only have, what, two more weeks of filming? We can make it through two weeks, right?”

“Guess we have to,” Steve agrees, but he moves his hand over a little so their pinkies touch on the edge of the pool.

tagging a few people by request, thank you for being interested <3 @atlas-talks @obsessivlyme @lyriclight @deadflowercollector @thatonebadideapanda @wolfstarlights @eddiemunsonswife @alienace @wishiwasacasualfan

#thank you to everyone for name suggestions instead of taking any of the good ones i've just continued to avoid naming characters lol #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #actors au #stranger things fic #steve x eddie #also i'm not the boss of you but please don't be too invested in the plot of the tv show... for your own sanity... i will Reveal All but #i can't promise it will besatisfying

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

Attention

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie is cocky during a session of Hellfire and it makes you need him - now.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSWF, 18+ ONLY, unprotected PIV sex, relatively dom!Eddie (Eddie is a lil mean to reader but it’s what reader wants from him and he knows that), dirty dirty DIRTY talk, tiny bit of orgasm denial, drug use. Don’t judge me if this makes no sense, I was high when I wrote it but Eddie would be proud.

Hellfire has been different since you and Eddie graduated high school. You’ve been taking classes at the Hawkins community college while he works at the local record shop, but your Thursday nights have been dedicated to keeping the D&D dream alive. You all have been meeting in Gareth’s basement now that the club is no longer school affiliated. But one thing that hasn’t changed is the effect Eddie has on you as dungeon master.

You sit in your seat across the table from him and watch him shout at the group from his throne. He voices every NPC intricately - with complicated accents and unique inflections. He flails his arms as he gesticulates. He pulls weird faces and jumps up as often as he sits down.

But most importantly, he’s the cockiest son of a bitch to ever live.

And when he engages with you, in particular, he’s sexy as sin.

“Care to roll a charisma check, princess?” he asks you after you attempt to question a particularly prickly guard.

“Not wisdom?” you ask sweetly, hopeful that you could roll for the ability for which you have a higher number.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re flirting, baby. Got to make sure you’re convincing,” Eddie says lowly, gazing at you over steepled fingers. You frown and let out a huffed exhale.

“Dustin flirted with that barmaid and you didn’t make him roll for shit,” you point out while Dustin raises his hands beside you in a ‘why bring me into this’ pose.

“That’s because Henderson is shit at flirting. He didn’t need to roll to see if the barmaid was uncharmed, her panties solidified into a chastity belt of their own accord.”

“Hey!” Dustin defends weakly, though he doesn’t try to argue further. You narrow your eyes at Eddie across the table.

“You’re doing this because I’m the only one with tits at this table, aren’t you.”

All of the younger boys cringe and look away, groaning audibly. But Eddie doesn’t break eye contact with you. Instead his smirk grows.

“I’m doing this because you’re the only one with tits,” he agrees, cocking his head to the side as he lets his eyes drag down from your face to your body and back. “And because I know for damn certain you don’t have a chastity belt yourself.”

The other boys shout out Eddie’s name in alarm and reproach, but you barely hear them. You’re too distracted feeling blood rushing to your ears and other places with the insinuation. His eyes are dark and his voice is deep and he leans back in his chair comfortably. Legs spreading open a little wider on his throne - completely at his leisure as you find yourself squirming and beginning to sweat under his gaze.

“So I need you to show me what you can do, princess.”

~*~

An hour later and the session is over, with the party only narrowly escaping capture at the hands of the guards. But the success of the session is far from your mind as you rocket down the dark country road in the passenger seat of Eddie Munson’s van, poured all over his frame in the driver’s seat, kissing his neck and fondling his package even as his foot grows more leaden on the gas.

You’d rolled a natural 20, essentially eviscerating any concern that your flirting wasn’t charismatic enough. The boys had cheered and Eddie had waved towards you, unnervingly pleased by this roll which should have inconvenienced him, urging you to roleplay whatever flirting it was that would be worthy of a crit success.

You’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of your shirt, completely ignoring the gasps from the younger players. Leaning forward with eyes only for Eddie, you’d pulled your arms in close - demurely even - knowing that it pushed your tits closer together to create an eyeful of cleavage.

Eddie doesn’t even remember what you’d said, his hearing pretty much zonked out after that. But as rattled as he was, he kept his cool, allowing his smirk to simmer into something even darker. When it was clear you’d finished making your case, Eddie had roleplayed as a seduced guard, providing you and your friends with safe passage into the tomb beyond.

As a result of that success, however, Eddie had cracked down even harder on all of you for the rest of the session. He barked at Mike and refused to so much as bat an eye when Lucas begged for mercy after a shitty roll. More than once you caught him staring at you while other players completed the actions for their turns. When he was caught looking, he never shied away. Never broke the eye contact or tried to pretend like he hadn’t been looking.

Because he had been looking. And he wanted you to know.

When the kids had all piled out of Gareth’s basement, the two of you had headed straight to Eddie’s van. Your friendship had always been flirty - bordering on inappropriate - but the dam had finally broken a few weeks ago after a memorable night of getting high in his trailer while clandestinely helping him prep for the new campaign he was currently running. Eddie didn’t want the boys to know you were getting special treatment - and you didn’t want to put up with their predictable discomfort - so you had kept things low key, meeting up in secret.

But today you’d barely waited for the last boy to bike out of sight before pouncing on Eddie in his van.

Your hands had gripped his face and pulled you to him across the center console, mashing his mouth to yours with an aggression with which he’d only just started becoming accustomed. You hadn’t had much time to yourselves since things had started up between the two of you - a quickie in the arcade bathroom. A quiet hand job with Wayne in the next room, a whispered dirty phone call in the middle of the night. But tonight you were done with the distractions. Done with patience and done with waiting.

“I want you right fucking now,” you moan into his ear, hand on the side of his neck to keep a hold on him. Eddie’s eyes dart from the road and back to you.

“As much as I’d die happy getting to make you cum, I’d rather not crash this van, princess.” he says with a husky chuckle, whipping the vehicle around a turn. “I’m going to want to be able to do it about a million more times.”

“Then pull over and make me cum now!” you practically whine. Your hand slides over his upper thigh but he catches it before it can reach his crotch again.

“I’m not fucking you in the van again,” he says with authority that rings through your brain like a bell. “I’m taking you home.” He brings your hand to your own thigh and pushes it to rub circles into your skin. “I’m going to fuck you on my bed like you should be fucked. The way I want to fuck you.”

You huff and pout but secretly his words have you positively aching.

You don’t protest again until you’re both through the door of his trailer, your arms slung around his neck, when he reaches for his black pail.

“Are you not going to - ,” you’re already accusatory and he laughs smoke into your face. He pulled out and lit a pre rolled joint.

“Of course I’m going to fuck you. But I’m also going to enjoy this,” he says around the joint, taking another deep inhale before holding it up to your lips. You take a grateful drag and feel him tug you into his room and close the door behind with a definitive snap.

Eddie divests you of your clothing one piece at a time and it is agonizing. You try to grip at him with greedy fingers but he holds you down by the wrists, keeping you in place. But that just makes you want him more. The casual way he can control your body reminds you of the casual, cocky control he had over the Hellfire session and your panties grow even more damp. Just in time for him to peel them off of you.

“This pussy is positively dripping, princess. Who is it all for?” His fingers glide through your wet folds deliciously.

“The fucking pope,” you huff out, rolling your eyes to distract from the way your chest is heaving. He’s kept you waiting and he still has the nerve to tease you more? Eddie gasps theatrically, pulling his hand away from your cunt fast enough to make you whine. He makes the sign of the cross between you with the hand that glistens with your slick.

“I hate to break it to you, babe,” he says, smirking before putting his slick-soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking and releasing them with a satisfied pop. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to help you with this.”

“Oh no?” you ask, biting your tongue to keep from laughing at his stupid joke. He leans forward and kisses the taste of you onto your lips.

“No. But he does have that cool staff, cane thing. Maybe he’ll let you use it to get off.”

You slap him hard on the chest and pull back.

“Eddie, that thing has a fucking cross on it.” Your laugh is more affronted squeal than anything. Eddie shrugs.

“So?”

“You are suggesting that I…fuck myself on a cross?” One of your hands flies to cover your mouth as your voice dips into a whisper, unsure if you should even say that last part.

“Baby it’s just dirty talk. It’s theoretical,” he reasons, not even missing a beat or seeming one bit deterred by your words. He peels your hand from your mouth and kisses your wrist. “Theoretically I think you should be able to fuck yourself on whatever you so choose.” He begins kissing his way up from your wrist to the crook of your elbow to your shoulder to your collarbone. “I would, however, like to volunteer my services in the matter.”

“Oh yeah? You have something better to offer me than the papal staff?” you ask teasingly, beginning to melt in his arms under the force of his lips, suctioning as they were to your neck between his words.

“Princess. I’ve got your staff right here. And I can promise you it’s better than old John Paul whatever-the-fuck.” As he says this Eddie grabs your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel his ridiculously solid hard on through his jeans. You bite back a moan, knowing you still need to get the last word in.

“John Paul the second,” you correct, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Jesus fucking Christ, should I really be worried you want to fuck the pope more than me?”

“Eddie,” you interrupt his dramatics by grabbing his face with both hands. “Shut up and fuck me.”

It’s a mad scramble of teeth and lips and flailing limbs as Eddie lunges for you and you do what you can to ride out his fervor. Your fingers dig into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he picks you up and manhandles you onto the bed. Finallyfinallyfinally giving you what you’ve been begging for for the better part of an hour.

With his jeans discarded on the floor, Eddie is now skin to skin with you, chest to chest. He takes both of your breasts into his hands and pushes them together, dropping his nose to plunge into the crevice he creates.

“How dare you dangle these tits in front of me during Hellfire,” he says, voice muffled by your breasts. His lips latch onto your flesh, suctioning so deeply you know you’ll have a mark. He releases you and looks up at you with shining lips. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Yeah. And you’re a tease, Eds. Come on, I want it.” You’re pouting now. Something you’ve never done with any other guy before. But Eddie’s smile and voice and hands and being have got you acting funny. They’ve got you feeling funny. He makes you want to strip yourself bare and throw yourself at him - beg him to do with you what he will. To use you like an object and leave you shaking and writhing beneath him.

He must see all of that in your eyes as he bears down on you because his smile widens dangerously.

“Oh princess. What’s gotten into you? You used to be a good girl.” He says this while lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiveling a teasing circle against the weeping hole. “Now you’re begging the dungeon master to give you his cock.”

“I want it,” you repeat, though your voice is starting to sound feeble to your own ears. One of his hands grips his cock for more dexterity and he drags it up and down, drawing a line up the length of your slit, tapping your clit each time he reaches it.

“I guess you were never really a good girl, let’s be honest,” he chuckles, ignoring your plea. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, more deliberately this time, and you whine. “Even all those years when we were just friends, really you were wanting this.”

It’s not exactly true and you know he knows that. Eddie’s just high and horny and talking shit and you love it - and what’s worse is he knows you love it. He knows you’re so turned on right now because he was so in charge during the Hellfire session and it boils your blood in more ways than one.

“Will you please fuck me, Eddie,” you try one more time, putting all your effort into speaking intelligably.

“Well since you ask so nicely, princess,” he says with a smirk before sinking all the way into you in one smooth, gut-wrenching motion.

“Ohmygod Eddie,” you gasp at the intrusion an he leans down to settle into the juncture of your neck. His lips press into your throat and you feel your body melt, feel it accept him inside you even deeper.

He finds a steady rhythm gradually, working himself and yourself up to a healthy pace. His thrust bring his body flush against you and you hold onto him for dear life as the pleasure mounts in your abdomen.

This is what you’d been wanting What you’d been needing.

One thrust lands perfectly, finding that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. Your strangled moan makes him laugh against your skin.

“Yeah, baby? Yeah?” he asks teasingly in response to your wordless sounds. You weren’t capable of speech a second ago, so you’re not sure what he assumes teasing you will produce. It sure isn’t anything comprehensible, because now you’re muttering slurred amalgamations of expletives and his name.

“Next time you try to tease me during a session, you should get exactly what you deserve, princess,” he whispers then into your ear. A shudder runs through your body, making you clench around him and making his hips stutter in turn. He bites down into your shoulder before resuming his whispering. “Should send everyone out of the room and fuck you then and there on the table.”

Oh god.

He’s been fucking you for a while at this point, building building building just to slow his hips enough to pull you back from teetering on the edge. But now you find yourself getting lost. Find your head lolling back against the pillows, eyes out of focus.

“Because this is what you want, isn’t it? My full attention? Huh?”

You crane your neck up blindly, trying to kiss him. He leans forward just enough for your mouths to touch, but your panting is so ragged that without his effort, your lips just mash against his sloppily. He laughs into your parted lips.

“Baby’s so desperate. Like’s when I’m mean while DMing and while fucking her.”

“Yes!” you confess on a gasp and he rewards you by swirling a finger over your clit, throwing you off the edge. You cum on his cock violently and it seems like a release of more than just the tension built up over the last few weeks. You’re finally getting what you wanted and he’s right - it was his full attention.

“Jesus fucking christ you’re so beautiful,” he says on a cracked voice. His thrusts turn sloppy and you preen at the idea that your cumming could have such an effect on his impending orgasm.

“Don’t…” you struggle to catch your breath but you push through to speak. “Don’t say the lord’s name in vain.” And suddenly Eddie’s laughing so hard it’s got him hissing with how close he is to bursting inside you.

“First the pope, now the lord. Since when did you get religious on me?” Eddie’s breathless. Flush and sweating and you know he’s close. Can feel the pulse of his cock and know the end is near.

“What can I say? Being fucked by you is a religious experience,” you reply before clenching down on him as hard as you can. He sees stars and suddenly he’s cumming inside of you in big shuddering spurts. You accept all of him, peppering kisses on his throat and jaw as his cock finishes twitching and filling you with his spend.

He collapses down on you, but for only a moment before rolling over to lay beside you. He hasn’t dismounted you for more than two seconds, though, before he’s pulling you in against his body. His nose nuzzles into your hair and he inhales a deep shuddering breath.

“That enough attention for you?”

You duck your head out from under his chin to look up at him with mischievous eyes.

“I’ll probably need more soon. Hope you’re up for it.” Your tone is casual, but your smile is a challenge. Eddie leans down and nips at your bottom lip.

“Anything for you, princess.”

~*~

I’ll be honest, I can’t tell who to tag for just random Eddie stuff vs. who just wanted to be tagged in Show Me parts, so this is who I think wants to see this: @millenialcatlady @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy chaoschaoswriting copycatkillerfics @cowboy-kylo lassie-bird softpshycopath katsukis1wife spookyreidd

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson imagines #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson/you #Stranger Things smut #smut #fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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