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hewhofightsbythesword · 3 years

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scotch or irish? tommy shelby x reader

warning/s: underage drinking, swearing, violence, and slight smut

inspired by disco pigs (2001)

A/N: I was really high when I came up this idea. Even wrote it while I was high, but I couldn’t find it the next mirning. Wasn’t sure if I really wrote it or if it was a dream. Either way, it’s here lol After like two weeks. Sowwyy

Tommy and y/n. y/n and Tommy. For as long as the pair can remember, that’s the way it has always been. Born only a few months apart, the two created an instant bond so strong that Aunt Polly said it would transcend through many lifetimes. And of course, Aunt Polly was never wrong in the matters of the heart. This was a friendship full of heart, romantic and platonic love for there was not one without the rest. Tommy’s mother would say to Polly, “That boy... it’s his cleverness that’ll kill him.” Martha found herself confiding in her more, so she continued, “As long as Tommy and y/n have each other... I am not worried.” And everyone knew. Everyone except Tommy and y/n.

The two had very similar minds. What one was thinking, the other was already mentally processing and vice versa. It would be almost adorable if it wasn’t so weird, as Arthur Sr. would call it. It was only weird because they were so smart. Against everybody else (even Polly at times, although she would never admit it), they were always two steps ahead.

From a young age the two understood their natural connection. For example, at the age of seven, Tommy and y/n planned to swear a vow of silence together that was planned to last a total of ten days. At first, y/n was met with slight worry from Tommy.

“We need code names! What should I call you if I need you?”

“You won’t have to need me, silly. That’s the whole point! I will already know, and so will you.” The logic was missing. They were both aware of this but none cared.

The goal was set for ten days. Not a single word was uttered between the kids or anyone else for that matter, aggravating the living hell out of those around them, especially Arthur who would’ve done anything to be a part of the joke. However, by day five, y/n broke the vow, rushing her feet as fast as they allowed a few houses down on Watery Lane.

That day she had heard a few of the older Lee boys, around Arthur’s age, speaking down on the Gypsy Shelby’s. y/n just had to tell Tommy or she was sure she would burst. It was also on day five Tommy came to two realizations: (1) He too would break their vow of silence. There was nothing worth doing if it meant he couldn’t do it with the person who understood him the most. (2) Tommy decided that same day that y/n, in her own right, was a Shelby too.

“Shelby,” he whispers to himself, only for him to hear.

At age 15, y/n was able to convince Tommy to steal a bottle of whiskey from the local pub. Her little hands shoved a piece of a paper with instructions in his direction. “Meet me here,” was all she told him with big eyes before he could even get a word in, running back to whatever held her short attention span. Unfolding the paper, Tommy could see a drawn out map of where to find the only girl who could keep young Tommy on his toes.

If anyone asked him, he would tell them all this was something he had to do. Many nights Arthur and Tommy had to go in all hours of the night looking for their father in pubs. One night in a drunken haze, Arthur Sr. takes his second born by the shoulders, causing him to be dragged onto the floor next to his father. He takes his boy by the face, shaking it a few times to show how serious he was trying to be.

“A man is meant to provide, always. Be a man, Thomas.”

y/n asked and Tommy planned to provide.

Seeing the large “X” marking the destination, it matched the location right before Tommy’s eyes. It was a beautiful far away, empty place from Watery Lane with lots of surrounding nature. It had just finished raining. y/n always did like the way the rain made the earth smell.

She notices her friend right away and runs up to him. y/n takes him by the hand. “I found my favorite tree here. Come on,” she says very nonchalantly.

Tommy shakes his head behind her. “Of course you did, Shelby. Of course you did.”

y/n often thought the world moved too slow for her liking. She always liked to be out and about. Always wild, never to be tamed. She figures that’s why she likes the Shelby’s so much. She was blessed to find a family early in her life that matched her soul. Except, she knows why she likes Tommy so much. He liked to be wild too. He moved just as fast as y/n, and he thought just as fast as her. So there was no doubt in her mind once she tasked her best friend with the alcohol that he'd deliver.

“I just took the first one I saw and ran like hell.” He presents y/n the bottle.

“Scotch whiskey,” y/n reads the label out loud before opening it. Tommy at this point began to see the trouble that she carried within her starting to stir. Confirming this intuitive feeling, y/n goes to make a quick toast like the kind she has seen her father make with Tommy’s. “To your Aunt Pol who would kill you if she ever knew, Thomas Shelby,” she groans out as she takes the first large swing with the most confidence. Even from when they were children, Tommy always wondered how so much confidence could fit in such a small body.

He takes the bottle from her to mimic her actions. “To my Aunt Polly who will find out by the week’s end.” They both laugh before Tommy takes his sip, but when he does, he takes it differently than y/n. “What the fuck, y/n. How can you even drink that shit?” He spits and coughs as he attempts to recover.

“What? I like it.” She shrugs while going for another.

At age 18, Tommy realized he loved y/n. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, it came to no surprise to anyone that he was already turning out to be a ladies man. Girls turning into young women were quick to notice his dark hair and hypnotic blue eyes. He was different than any of the factory worker boys that took after their fathers. He was ambitious. He wanted more to life than what dirty old Birmingham could offer, and the young women knew this so in some way, it even made it seem okay that his last name was Shelby. Almost as if Tommy was being pardoned for being a Shelby. And he hated that feeling.

y/n never made Tommy feel that way. She was always the first and the last one to defend her friend since birth. Crowned by Tommy all those years ago, she was Shelby. What else could have made her break her vow with Tommy all those years ago? Tommy didn’t realize exactly what he was realizing at the time. How could he? They were kids being kids. He couldn’t have known it was loyalty. If it wasn’t clear to Tommy then, it was now.

“You need to get out of here. Go get Arthur and John. This is no place for a woman,” Tommy warns y/n one night out, sensing trouble.

The two found themselves cornered by a group of boys around their age. The Peaky Blinders were gaining respect, notoriety, and fear from those around them. Things were changing for the Shelby’s, but not everyone agreed. Most certainly not the three boys looking for a fight. “Run!”

“No!” She hisses back. She tightens her fist and holds them up.

“There is no fucking way I’m letting you do this.”

“Either I leave to get the boys and we come back to your half-dead body, if we’re lucky or I stay and fight and we may actually win this.” Truth be told, y/n wished she could listen to Tommy and go get his brothers. But more than the fear she felt for herself, it was tenfold for Tommy.

“Damn you, Shelby.” he tells her as the fight breaks out.

No words were exchanged on the walk to The Garrison. It seemed like all of the day’s events were forcing Tommy to think about the vow they made when they were seven. Only this time, Tommy could see the logic she proposed. He did know what she was thinking because he was so sure she was thinking the same as him.

“Whiskey, Harry,” was all Tommy said, not bothering to spare the man a glance. y/n goes to sit at a table like they always do but was stopped by Tommy. He latches onto her hand, careful with the cuts and bruises that were beginning to form. “No,” he tells her, “We’ll be in the snug.” And no one protested. They may have wanted to but at the sight of blood on their clothes and on his razor blade, no one dared to speak out against the Blinder.

Not long after Harry delivers two glasses of whiskey through the snug’s window. “Give the toast, Shelby,” he gives the cup to y/n.

Her eyes never leave his. Even with exhaustion hijacking them, y/n could not name a more beautiful sight. “To you, Tommy. To the best and worst pal in the world.”

In his state of shock, Tommy failed to clink their glasses together, so y/n did it. The sound pulls him out of his own swirling thoughts, and they down their drink in an instant. Like the siamese twins they are, a look of disgust and twinge of horror overtake their faces.

“Scotch.”

“Irish.”

They both spit out like venom but were quick to laugh it off. “You gave me the wrong cup, Thomas!”

“Hey, come on now. I’m still Tommy. I’m just a bloody idiot for not knowing the difference.”

Only a few moments later, the laughing winds down a bit. The atmosphere still remains light only to be shattered. “Why don’t you love me?” He blurts out to y/n. “Like the way I love you?”

y/n’s content smile never falters. “I believe you have been too busy to notice me, Tommy. I’ve been right here. Because if you would have just asked, I would’ve said I loved you too. And I do... love you too.”

He smiles at her. “The best and worst pal in the world.”

y/n could feel her heart begin to hammer against her chest. She no longer felt like she was sitting down but floating. With the adrenaline from the fight gone, she should have been able to feel her wounds mark their place on her skin. But that’s not true. All she could feel was a warm, tight feeling in her chest. The boy she loved, loved her back. And no amount of irish whiskey could ever compare.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

Tommy’s eyes searched y/n’s for any trace of hesitance or fraud but found none. All he could see were the eyes of the girl he loved the most. And most importantly, the girl loved him back.

He stands up to speak to Harry through the snug’s window and comes back shortly after. “Come here, Shelby.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss the only girl in all of Small Heath that I love.” At that, y/n had no protests.

Their kiss was nothing less of what the two expected. It wasn't awkward. Nerve wracking, sure, but not awkward. Many nights y/n dreamt about this very moment. She dreamt how Tommy’s lips would feel against hers. She often wondered what kind of lover he was. And now she knows, leaving her with no more thoughts to wonder about.

She is the first one to pull away. “I have loved you since we were seven and you called me “Shelby” for the first time.” She places desperate kisses onto his lips, cheeks, and neck. Anywhere they would fall, really, leaving traces of pure love behind.

Tommy feels like he is starting to lose control once her pillow soft lips attack his neck. “Tell me again, y/n. Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” She reminds him in between her kisses.

“Shelby... if you keep doing that, I’m not sure how much gentleman will be left in me.”

She looks up from the spot on his neck she was loving on, having found his sweet spot. “This one? Right here?” She asks, feigning innocence as she lightly bites down. When she hears his soft moan, her tongue laps at the spot relieving it only to finish off with a few kisses.

Before the last one can even land, Tommy’s hand finds her neck to take control once more. He doesn’t squeeze nor does he have a rough hold. He merely wraps his fingers around the neck he will one day dress in the biggest jewels. Tommy guides y/n to the edge of the table and pushes her to lay on it.

“Here, Tommy?” She giggles watching her best friends crawl on top of her

He shushes her with more wet kisses. “No one will come in. It’s just me and you.” His hands caress, squeeze, and tease whatever he can.

“It’s yours, Tommy, my heart. It’s all yours.”

He wraps his hand under her hair that was sprawled over the table into a makeshift ponytail. “Mine,” he proves when he finally feels all of her. His eyes never hers, wanting to sear the memory of the exact moment she became his. Pain overtakes her face but her hands on his lower back right above his ass lets him know she was okay. After a while, y/n signals Tommy to start moving once more and pain starts to transform into a pleasure y/n never thought was possible.

All the sounds the two were making were sure to be drowned out by the ruckus made by the drunk men just outside the snug. Tommy was sure to tell Harry that no one else was allowed in under any circumstances. In his moment of euphoria, Tommy was ready to wet his razor blade for the second time that night should anyone dare barge in and take a look at what belonged to him.

This wasn’t Tommy’s first time but it was the first time he realized all what sex could be. All the men in his life were wrong. He was wrong. It didn’t have to be all what they said it should. All he ever needed was y/n. Now that he had her, he had no intention of ever letting go.

Basking in the momentary afterglow of his best orgasm, he says, “You know what, Shelby? I don’t think I mind scotch whiskey all that much anymore,” his thumb traces y/n lower lip, even getting it slightly moist, “Not when the taste comes from your lips. My lips.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Conferences (Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano x f!teacher!Reader)

Summary: Alistair Lorenzano is a third grader in your class, whom you absolutely adore. Upon meeting his father, Maxwell, you suddenly have much more interest in the Lorenzano family. Set after WW84.

W/C: 2.9k

Warnings: language, flirting, talk of divorce and trauma, lots of talk of children and such, especially Alistair. brief nondescript mentions of Maxwell’s shitty childhood. uh. Spoilers for The Great Gatsby lmao

A/N: well! I haven’t written for max in a long time but the ship request (which are CLOSED) i received here really made me inspired! hope u guys like it :)

Alistair Lorenzano was a joy to have in class. You mean it too, not like when you don’t have a comment for a child’s report card and you just stick that phrase on the bottom. No, Alistair is a genuinely good kid.

The little dark haired boy walked in proudly on the first day, even as none of the other children came over to say hello or pal around with him. He seemed lonely, but he marched up to your desk and placed a beautiful apple on the desk, giving you a gap-toothed grin and introducing himself with a handshake. Alistair didn’t talk to his other classmates much that day, or any other day really. He was usually preoccupied with a book of some sort.

He sits alone at lunch and recess, usually burying his nose in a book as the other children play. He’s progressed quite quickly, reading big wordy books the other fourth graders surely couldn’t handle. When a child has no one to play with, Alistair will sit with them and talk. He’ll always help a struggling classmate with their long division or come up with a good synonym for them. He rarely raises his hand, but he’s almost always correct.

He’ll come in early most mornings. He doesn’t talk much about his family, but he says his dad works early in the morning and that he has to drop him off earlier. That’s fine with you; the kid is a good conversationalist and will read quietly while you arrange lesson plans or grade spelling tests.

You wonder what his family is like. All you know about his father is that he works early in the morning. His mother has dropped him off late several times, but that always led to more early mornings; presumably his father’s doing.

As a teacher, you tend to shy away from family-based assignments. You’re fully aware that some of your students won’t want to share what their parents do for a living, or talk about them at all. That’s why you don’t know much about the Lorenzano family- you don’t ask and Alistair doesn’t share.

Conferences are approaching soon as you approach the midpoint of the first semester. Most parents don’t come if their children are doing well; typically, only the parents of struggling children make appearances. That’s why you’re surprised to read the note Alistair hands you when he walks in, thirty minutes before class begins, as always.

You frown reading the little note of paper, pushing your glasses up your nose. “You’re sure that your father needs a conference?” You ask the little boy. He looks confused. “I’d love to meet him,” you say hurriedly, sipping your morning coffee. “It’s just that… you’re a very smart kid, Alistair. Usually it’s the parents of kids who don’t do so well that sign up for conferences.”

Alistair shrugs, taking off his puffy fall jacket and hanging it on his hook near your desk. “I don’t know. Dad just said he wanted that time,” he says, pointing at your paper.

Dramatically uncapping a colored flare pen, you make a show out of writing down the name for your 7:30 time slot: Mr Lorenzano. “Well, I will see your dad then,” you tell the kid with a smile. He seems pleased that you’re excited. “What’s his name?”

“Maxwell,” Alistair informs you, sitting at his desk and cracking open his book.

You repeat the name, writing it down in the purple pen you chose. “Your family has very elegant names,” you tease Alistair.

Alistair shrugs. “Dad likes to sound fancy.”

Maxwell has never met you, but he feels that he knows you like an old friend. Alistair absolutely adores you, tells his father about you at any chance he gets.

You sound wonderful. He supposes that Alistair would adore any female figure in his life right now. Vanessa, the former Mrs. Lord, has all but rejected her son. When Alistair would spend time at her place, she’d practically ignore her own kid, prioritizing whatever she wanted to do. Several days, Alistair was late to or completely missed school thanks to Vanessa’s ignorance.

That’s why Maxwell has taken nearly full custody now. Vanessa didn’t argue it. She was glad to have Alistair out of her hair. Besides, she resented Maxwell for endless reasons, usually unfounded. She wanted to see him struggle.

But Maxwell thrived. Alistair and his father are as close as can be. Maxwell now works a menial job, after the whole Dreamstone fiasco, but he’s managing to make ends meet. When they have enough money left over, he’ll take Alistair to the movies or buy him a new lego kit.

Maxwell hasn’t found love since Vanessa, but he thinks you might be the one for him. One could call him a hopeless romantic; his heart builds and breaks as easily as a wave on the shore. You sound so nurturing and lovely, so wonderful to the one Maxwell loves most. That’s partially why he scheduled the conference with you.

The other part was that Alistair is a budding genius in Maxwell’s eyes. He flies through thick books day in and day out, and Max wants to accommodate the skills in his son. He constantly tells him how proud of him he is, but he wants to make sure he can keep helping him learn.

On the day of the conference, Maxwell is nervous. Why is he nervous? He combs his closet several times to find one of the nice suits from his glory days, but decides it to be ridiculous. He’s not sure how much Alistair tells you about his family, but he’s sure you know he is no longer the television personality Max Lord. Instead, he settles for a dress shirt and pants, tossing on a light jacket over it. The fall air is turning crisp, especially in the evenings.

Doña Gloria from next door knocks on the door at promptly 7:00, and Alistair pops up to answer it. He loves the old woman, and wraps her in a big hug. Gloria walks inside the apartment, grinning at the sight of Maxwell’s outfit. “Ah, making a good impression on the boy’s teacher,” she nods in approval.

“Hoping to,” he nods and adjusts the suede jacket over his lapels, fidgeting with the zipper. “Alistair, why don’t you go find that game you wanted to play with Doña Gloria?”

The child runs off obediently and the woman straightens his collar for him. “Little Maxie has a crush,” she sings.

“Gloria,” he frowns as he messes with the cuffs. “I’ve never even met the woman.”

She gives a knowing smile. “But you know her. You know her through Alistair, all his stories. I’m sure she will love you, mijo.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he sighs and pats his pockets, checking for his wallet. “She’s Alistair’s teacher. I can’t just-“

“You can do whatever the hell you want, Mr. Lorenzano,” the woman chuckles and reassures him. “Go get her.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a conference, not a date,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“It can be both!” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts the door, making him laugh.

Conferences, as always, are a pain in the ass. You sit and make small talk with parents, discussing their child’s skills with their times table versus their writing proficiency, their standardized test scores and how they stack up.

As the night passes, you grow more frazzled. Your hair, neatly tucked back, falls out in strands, and your glasses seem to slide down your nose more and more often. Some parents verbally abuse you for their children’s poor scores on their science test. Others try to get to know you a little too personally. All part of a day’s work.

A hopeful smile dares to peek out as you read your schedule and arrange your sampling of Alistair’s works. You’re eager to meet his father, to meet the man Alistair so rarely talks about but clearly adores.

There’s a knock on your classroom door at 7:30 on the dot. Shoving your glasses up your nose one time, you hurry to the door and allow the man in. “Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Lorenzano,” you tell him and shake his hand, leading him to your desk.

Something about him seems familiar. He’s very attractive, that’s something. He doesn’t have his son’s dark, nearly black hair, but rather a light brown with bits of blonde interjected throughout. He has his son’s deep brown eyes, and his very presence makes you smile. He looks put together, dressed similarly to other fathers you’ve seen tonight.

You tuck your skirt under you as you sit in your chair. The man’s voice is smooth and beautiful as he speaks. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Alistair talks endlessly about you at home.”

Smiling, you shuffle some of his papers. The man is distractingly handsome, you find as you scramble to grab Alistair’s math test. “Well, he’s a very special kid. I adore having him in my class, truly. Your son is going places, Mr. Lorenzano.”

“Please, Max,” he shakes his head, producing something from a pocket. “Oh, and… for you.”

The sight makes you nearly laugh, but instead you break into a grin. The man’s large hand holds a shiny red apple, perfectly shaped. “Thank you,” you laugh and set it on your desk. “You know, I have no idea where that silly custom comes from.”

“I should ask Alistair,” Maxwell chuckles, his face heating as he takes in the beauty of your smile. “He knows so much. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to know that.”

Nodding, you hand over an assortment of Alistair’s schoolwork and artwork. “He really does. I appreciate having a fellow avid reader in my class. He’s so bright, it’s… wild, really. Do you or… Mrs. Lorenzano,” you say, treading lightly, “do anything supplementary that advances his learning?”

Max looks down at the papers. “Well, she isn’t Mrs. Lor- Lorenzano anymore,” he shakes his head, his eyes not meeting yours for a moment. He stumbles, nearly using his former business name of Lord. “But no. I have nearly full custody of Alistair, and he flies through books. It’s absurd,” the man laughs, his pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “I mean, neither of us were ever as smart as this. I don’t know where he got it from.”

You frown at that. “You seem very smart, Max. May I ask what you do for a living?”

His brow furrows. “Alistair hasn’t told you?”

You shake your head, adjusting your glasses. God, Maxwell wants to do that for you, push them up your nose or better yet, take them off and kiss you deeply. “I don’t push kids to talk about their home lives. Some don’t want to share,” you shrug.

“I wish I would’ve had a teacher like you in my day,” he chuckles sadly. “I... well, I work currently for a corporate office in Arlington. It’s nothing very exciting, or anything that requires skill.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “It must be an important job or they wouldn’t pay you to do it.”

His chuckle is a little more upbeat. “I suppose. I just… my family was very poor when I was a child. I don’t want Alistair to feel ashamed that I don’t make as much money as his other classmates. Tell me, he doesn’t seem very social. Is he…?”

You want to phrase it properly, so you stutter for a moment. “Well, to put it plainly, no. Alistair does not talk much with his classmates. He’s a very quiet boy, as I’m sure you know. It’s not that they ostracize him, but rather that he chooses to be alone. He’s always reading rather than playing soccer or whatever,” you shrug. “It’s most certainly not exclusion on the basis of… having less money.”

Maxwell’s shoulders relax a little. “Well, I’m glad. Honestly, I don’t mind that he’s quiet. I’m glad he’s learning.”

“I’d usually disagree, but I have to say the same,” you chuckle. “He’s a really good kid, Max. You should be proud to have him as a son. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s my favorite student.”

He’s absolutely beaming with pride. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

“Of course! How could I not love that kid?” you chuckle as you admire a drawing Alistair made of a scene from his favorite book. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” You ask, unsure if he had more concerns.

Maxwell’s almost startled by the question. “Oh! Yes, I got sidetracked,” he chuckles, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He’s painfully beautiful, and his laugh makes you laugh in return. It’s safe to say you really like the Lorenzano family. “He just goes through book after book, it’s endless. Do you have any recommendations for continued reading? I want him to keep going like this, truly.”

Tapping a pen against your gradebook, you think on it for a moment. “I guess the best way would be positive reinforcement, but not reward. If you, say, incentivized it, he might see it as a chore to earn the money or toy or whatever.”

Maxwell nods as he listens, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice and intellect. Yes, his theory earlier was correct. He does have a crush on you. “Naturally.”

“So, my recommended course of action would really just be praise and support. Tell him you’re proud of him. Offer to take him to the library to pick out some more. Those little things mean more to a kid than we can know.”

Max does know, actually. He knows because he was deprived of them as a child, because he tries to use them as often as he can so Alistair never feels the way he felt. “I can most definitely do that.”

“Great,” you nod, fidgeting with the stem of the apple in front of you. “If he ever wants to do more math or puzzles or such, the library has lots of great resources for that as well. I also have lots of worksheets I could send home with him.”

“If I can tear him away from that book,” Maxwell chuckles. “Do you have any favorites? You mentioned you read a lot.”

“Oh, god,” you laugh, and Maxwell is enchanted by the sound. “There are too many options! My favorite book of all time would probably have to be the Great Gatsby. I love the classics.”

Maxwell’s smile turns bittersweet. Jay Gatsby’s life reminds him far too much of his own for comfort now. Before, he’d call himself a Gatsby in reference to lavish parties and living large. Now, he feels like Gatsby dead in the water. “Wonderful book,” he nods. “F. Scott Fitzgerald is a literary mastermind.”

“Do you read too?” You ask, intrigued. His personality shows more and more and you’re desperate for even more of it.

He shakes his head. “Not as much as Alistair, I’m afraid, but when I have the time.”

You grin. “My plans for tonight are to go home and read with some takeout. No one to disturb me or anything. I’m very much a homebody, so it’s usually just me and my gradebook and my houseplants. Takeout is the most excitement I get. I’m looking forward to working through this book though; I’m currently reading Wilde.”

“Ah, what book?”

“Picture of Dorian Gray,” you smile and look down at your tote bag with the book tucked into the side. “If I have any brainpower left. Most of these conferences are energy-suckers.”

“How many do you have left?” He asks, curious.

“You’re the last of the night, actually,” you chuckle and cross your arms on the desk, looking over at him and silently hoping he reads your interest.

“The night you have planned sounds lovely, I must say,” Maxwell chuckles. “I do love takeout, but I know of a wonderful place near here. I… we could go get dinner, if you’d like.”

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose to push your glasses back up. “That sounds wonderful, Max. It’s nice to converse with someone who isn’t 9 years old for a while. And someone so interesting,” you openly flirt now that you can tell he’s picking up on your messages.

“Me? Hardly,” he shakes his head and laughs. “I’m sure you have much more fascinating stories than me.”

“I am a third grade teacher, Max,” you laugh. “If you want stories that involve boogers, the ever-present cooties, and long division, I’m your gal, but it hardly extends past that.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out. Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” you grin. “Does that mean wine?”

“Always,” Maxwell says in a mockingly offended voice, as if you’d even dare to ask such a thing, with a look of disgust.

“Thank fucking god,” you laugh before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Oh shit. Oh-“ you wince as you try to cover your curse with another curse. “Sorry. When school hours are out, I can’t hold back any longer.”

“No need to,” he assures you. “A woman like you could do whatever she wants and I’d be happy to just be in her presence.”

“Mr. Lorenzano,” you tease. “This is a parent-teacher conference!”

“Then let’s head to dinner and continue this in a nonprofessional capacity, shall we?” He asks, standing and pushing back his rolling chair.

“That sounds great,” you smile. Alistair’s father sure is something. Yes, you certainly like the Lorenzano family.

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socheckitout-mikey · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Johnny x soc reader where they hide their relationship and suddenly realize they really dont want to so now they have to adjust

heya birdie! i only really write hc’s so that’s the format they’re in. also, i kinda focused it more heavily on the reader meeting the gang, bc johnny would be pretty set on her meeting them since they’re pretty much his family. i hope you enjoy what i came up with! - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Johnny Dating a Soc Reader and Hiding their Relationship Hc’s:

° None of the gang seemed to pick up on the fact that Johnnycake is dating you, and honestly, Johnny is pretty happy about that. Boii get’s teased enough as it is whenever he does open his mouth, he doesn’t need to be flooded with an onslaught of attention in regards to you.

° It’s just not Johnny’s style to be propped on top of a roof of a building, yowling about how he’s together with you. That’s more of Two-bit’s style. It’s not born out of embarrassment of dating you, someone who’s in a different social class altogether, it’s more over the fact that attention tends to overwhelm Johnny since he’s a raging introvert.

° In fact, Johnny is incredibly ecstatic to have you as his s/o despite the ample amount of insecurities he has about himself and his social status. He considers himself a lucky guy to have bagged someone as amazing and understanding as you. You balance a lot of his anxieties and insecurities out with patience and reassurance: Two things that we all know Johnny desperately lacks outside of the gang.

° Johnny tends to get effortlessly embarrassed whenever the spotlight is scorching on his form. So when you had told him you wanted to keep your relationship a secret, a part of him was incredibly relieved, but not before his mind started racing madly over the negative avenues for your reasoning.

° That other part of him felt ashamed of himself, especially because he primarily thought you were doing this out of the fact you were embarrassed of what others would think of you if they discovered the pair of you were dating.

° Yet you swiftly shutdown those ridiculous avenues of thought, ensuring him that you cared for him deeply and that societies prim and proper nose wouldn’t make you change who you loved, - even if it was upturned -. Similarly to Johnnycake, you relinquished from attention, the sheer thought of all these eyes being on you both made your skin crawl grotesquely.

° And thus began the comfortable pinnacle of your relationship with Johnny Cade. There was never much pressure, the pair of you free in the lack of obligation of speaking about your relationship to anyone else. It was beautiful while it lasted.

° You see, the gang weren’t blind. Soon they began to notice a spring in Johnny’s step, how he spoke a little more, how he disappeared frequently. The amount of times he’d led the gang on wild goose chases across town to lose them somewhere along the way to yours drove him insane!

° Teasing became an ample part of his life, the gang eventually guessing that he was dating someone. And although his crimson cheeks probably gave him away, his mouth never did. But Dally was hot onto the younger boy with a knowing smirk because Johnny may’ve slipped it loose once or twice whilst the guy was drunk: Sometimes, miraculously, Dally remembered his drunk endeavors.

° And your friends... fickle they were! Figured it out two weeks into your relationship with Johnny. Though fortunately for you they were trustworthy folk, they never pushed the topic, ready for whenever you were ready to tell them on your own terms.

° It was incredibly comical when you and Johnny met one night, both wild eyed and slightly breathless. The pair of you were sat in your car, the soft drawl of the radio humming whimsically in the background as Johnny sucked the life out of his tenth cancer stick of the night.

° “We gotta talk-” the paid of you mumbled out desperately in unison, the anxiety shivering in your tones made the pair of you spooked. Now that you look back on it, you laugh.

° “You first-” a unison it was once more and Johnny couldn’t help but crack a wry toothy grin before throwing his cigarette butt out the window.

° “Okay, you shoot first, Y/N.” Johnny stated in a shaky tone, his stammering long gone. You were one of the only people he felt real comfortable talking with.

° “I-I think we should tell our friends, because my friends are figurin’ it out.”

° And that night the pair of you stayed up till the early hours devising a plan on how best to break this to your friends.

° Johnny decided he’d need to pull up his bootstraps and meet your pals first, considering they were the nicest of the bunch. After all, the gang were notorious for being nasty to people they didn’t know, though laid off once they did get to know people. It was precautionary.

° And him meeting your friends went spectacularly! They loved Johnny so much and had nothing but great things to say about him. It was a bit of an ego boost for the kid, albeit incredibly overwhelming. He was still grinning in the vacant lot that night when Dally sat with the kid, fully sober for once.

° “Dal,” Johnny had hummed through the night air, shaking softly as nerves wracked his guts, “I gotta come clean about somethin’.” Did he have to say it so corny?

° “Shoot, Johnny-kid, what’s up?” Dally stated, seriousness taking him by the reins.

° And out it all came...

° Dally was ecstatic to say the least, taunting came out in boisterous fits and soon enough he’d wrestled Johnny into the Curtis house, gloating about how Johnny had snatched himself someone fancy.

° No one believed him initially, but then Johnny told them your name and when I tell you Soda’s jaw slammed onto the floor, it really did. They were so happy for him! And with happiness came the wild teasing of six boisterous boys, all eager to meet the person who’d won Johnny’s attention.

° Johnny was on edge about you meeting the gang, considering that you’d seen some of their antics in person from afar. He assured you that after awhile, they’d lay off; but for now, you’d be like that new attraction at the zoo. You hated that analogy but it made you laugh.

° You’d pretty much prepared yourself for the absolute worst, and although you were scared stiff, you sure didn’t show it. It made Johnny admire you more because you took everything the boys gave you in stride: I mean, it wasn’t like you weren’t a stranger to how teenage boys acted, after all, you did go to school with a whole bunch of em’.

° Darry was the most intimidating besides Dallas, due to his stature and height, but also because of that notorious icy look in his eye. He’d firmly shook your hand, muttering a brief “Hi, I’m Darry,” before slinking back into the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. Darry was a tough nut to crack, something Johnny had told you not to take personally: In fact, Darry really liked you from the moment you walked through the door because you were precisely what Johnny needed in a partner. You were also a good kid, something he hoped eventually would rub off on the other boys, but he wasn’t exactly expecting miracles.

° Sodapop was wild eyed and dreamy as ever, albeit just as dirty as the other boys. He flirted with you every chance he could get, eliciting Johnny to wise off to him; something that made the gang both gawk and simper like wolves.

° “What? You’ve never heard him speak before?” You’d quipped back wittily. You were also weary on how witty you were, seeing as you were typically seen as someone out of their leagues, you didn’t wanna come off as preppy, like you looked down on them. The truth was, you didn’t look down on them. After all, they were important people to Johnny, so they deserved as much respect as anyone else.

° Steve was cocky and smart mouthed, something you had witnessed all too often at school: In fact, you were pretty sure you’d been on the receiving end of his callous words more than once. You took everything he said with a grain of salt. He was also a little intense to begin with, joining in on Soda, Two and Dally flirting with you, but only in the sense to get you to be severely embarrassed.

° And Johnny was almost defensive of you, swatting away the gang and wising off to them to cut it out and leave you alone. He should’ve known better than to rise to their bait, because after all, that’s what they were really looking for; to get him going all red in the face.

° “You guys are nasty! I swear, ain’t nobody was this bad when Evie came round...”

° The minute you’d walked through the front door, Two-bit was hot on your heels, with Dally in tow, attempting to make you laugh up a storm. Well, he did, because it’s Two-bit after all: Who couldn’t that guy make laugh? His flirting would’ve been smooth if not for him having hiccupped halfway through his sentence.

° “Hey, sweet cheeks, why don’t you ditch Johnny for a real good lookin’ man like me, huh sugar?”

° “If the mirrors the one who told you that, then it’s lying.” You quipped back skillfully, more than comfortable taking on someone as wise-cracking as Two. The insult seemed to break the ice somewhat because Two didn’t take anything personally. In fact, all the boys thought it was pretty funny.

° Dally was the one that genuinely terrified you. The lines between a hood and a greaser weren’t present in him after all: Dallas Winston was as bad as they got, like Tim Shepard, and if it weren’t for him being Johnny’s buddy, you’d have avoided him at all costs. You weren’t sold short on his little show at the beginning, flirting with you, pulling on your hair like you were his kid sister or something... Dally found every way to irritate the hell out of you.

° “C’mon now, Dal! Cut that shit out!” Johnny snapped particularly at one point, but he meant business: Johnny never really wised off to anyone, so it took some guts for him to go out for Dally like that. Dally just grinned at him silly before ruffling the kids hair. “Alright, alright! Who knew you dug this one so much, eh?”

° Ponyboy, although quiet, was probably your most favorite of the gang. You really weren’t a stranger to him at school, often having some classes together with him. So it was somewhat refreshing to see someone you knew a little well in class. Every so often you’d catch the kid looking at you apologetically from the dining room whenever Steve or Two would say something that would’ve made anyone else run for the hills.

° “You know, if you keep goin’ like that, Johnny-cakes’ heads gonna burst into flames.”

° Whenever the boys got too rambunctious, Darry would pipe up from the doorway, reminding the boys that they needed to tone it down. After all, they’d promised Johnny they’d be on their best behavior, which in fact, that whole promise had been thrown out the window long ago. You’d just accepted it at this point.

° Eventually nighttime curled over Tulsa Oklahoma, and it was time for you to head on home. As soon as you and Johnny got down to the lot, he was intent on apologizing for their awful behavior, absolutely certain that you wouldn’t wanna be with a bum like him that hung out with trash like that.

° “What’re you apologizin’ for? I like em’. I mean, they’re awful, but...” You grinned at your boyfriend, linking fingers with him.

° “Did Two sneak you some booze?!” Johnny was animated, his voice cracking as it reached an octave that it hadn’t before.

° It did take awhile for the gang to accept you as Johnny’s girlfriend, but that didn’t matter to you as the cat was out of the bag: Outing your relationship to both of your friend groups was probably the best avenue to have gone down, since it was never in either of your guys’s nature to have just shown up to school one day holding hands and all that mushy galore!

° Everyone at school made a huge deal out of you guys dating for about a week until the next ‘crazy’ rumor swept their attention. Although you were still subject to some odd looks and some remarks, the pair of you just ignored them.

° The most the pair of you would do in public was hold hands or Johnny’s arm was around your shoulders. Subtle things. He got a whole ear full from the gang about how whipped he was. Johnny just didn’t dig the whole possessive thing that Dally was into. He didn’t need the whole world watching him make out with you!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

#johnnycade #johnny cade #johnny cade imagines #johnny cade headcanons #johnny cade x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders johnny cade #the outsiders johnny cade headcanons #the outsiders johnny cade imagines #the outsiders johnny cade x reader #hope you enjoyed them!#mae

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fijiangecko · 3 years

Text

The Gr8King

Camboy!Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader

+9k words

MDI, Explicit, Smut, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Read it on AO3 here

Finding an apartment for college was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. Searching endlessly through ads, you ciphered through countless creeps and dingy houses that were not up to code. Up until the second to last week of summer break, you had no where to stay, but a friend of yours from high school said that he knew a guy looking for a roommate within your price range.

Thanking him a million times, you met up with Tooru Oikawa the next day at a coffee shop and got acquainted. You found him charming, and something clicked between you two immediately, a spark if you would.

Two days after you met him, you were moving in. And very quickly after that you met his best friend; the three musketeers were together at last. Hajime, Tooru and yourself were always together and you all got along extremely well.

You were a middle ground between the two, somewhere between the lines of rude and flirtatious, but it made for some fun nights out. Hajime and yourself are even better friends than Tooru and you, but both of you agree that it’s because of the mutual “hatred”. He became your best friend in a matter of weeks, and people often assumed you were a couple. Every time, it was quickly denied as either of you stated that you would rather shoot yourselves than hook up with one another.

Fast forward almost a year later, and the three of you are sitting on the couch, watching some shit alien documentary Oikawa put on in the background.

“Do you think we should buy a bigger TV, Y/N-chan?” Tooru asks you while shoveling some noodles in his mouth.

“Dude, it’s fine. I mean if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Plus, I don’t have the kinda cash for that at the moment.” You stand up, stretching slightly while reaching out to Iwaizumi, seeing as his bowl is empty. “Unless you wanna pitch in?” Laughing softly, he places the bowl in your hand and shakes his head.

“No chance in hell I’m helping you losers buy a bigger television for your apartment.”

“Well that was uncalled for…” Oikawa quietly mumbles. “But! I think I’m just gonna buy a new one. You don’t have to worry about the money or anything. Think of it as our one year anniversary gift!” He wiggles his eyebrows and bumps his elbow into Iwa’s side as you roll your eyes and walk to the kitchen. You’re just glad that you make it to the sink before he can see the bright red on your face.

You weren’t sure when this started, but whenever Tooru teased you, a rush of blood would flow through your system. You’ve known each other for years at this point, and nothing like this has ever happened. You’ve noticed that he’s been building more muscle, almost like he’s glowing. You’re unsure, but not upset.

“How the fuck can you afford that? You’re at practice all the time, and you don’t have a job.” You turn around after washing the dishes, leaning into the counter as you speak.

The two men quickly share a glance before Oikawa speaks. “I have my ways.” The flirtatious tone in his voice lures you in, wanting for the subject to change, and you give in to the pretty boy's ways.

“Whatever Flattykawa.” He sticks out his lip and pouts as you insult him. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, I have an eight thirty lecture and I still have to meet with a TA beforehand.” A yawn escapes your mouth as Hajime stands up from the couch, making his way to you and wrapping his rather large arms around your frame. The man has always been a walking space heater, and you place your arms around him. He rubs his hands on your back before saying goodnight and walking back to the couch. Tooru is still pouting, head turned to look out of the window as he sees his best friend hug his crush. The slight twinge of jealousy lasts for a brief moment, going away as he whispers a brief goodnight to you as well.

A week or so has passed since that night, and things are still the same between yourself and Oikawa. He did end up buying a new t.v., and you got the “old” one for your room. Not only that, but he’s been receiving packages all the time. Almost everyday he gets something shipped to the apartment, and you can’t help but wonder where the fuck all of this money is coming from.

It’s none of your business Y/N. If Tooru’s rich, then there’s nothing you can say about that. He’s just a little luckier than you are, with money, talent and looks he’s practically got no issues… Your thoughts run on and on as you sit at the bar, distracted from the homework on your laptop screen. It’s roughly seven or eight at night on a Monday night, meaning Oikawa’s home since it’s his day off. He doesn’t like being bugged when doing work of any kind, and tends to stay in his room until he’s finished doing whatever it is he’s doing. It was an agreement you both made when you first moved in to learn each other's boundaries and respect privacy at all times.

Your phone dinged on the other side of the counter, and you quickly picked it up to look at the notification. At the same time, Tooru walks through his bedroom door and into the kitchen. His unruly hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. It’s a rather common occurrence for him to be shirtless, but it’s been happening more and more. Unaware of your gaze, he continued looking for a snack like nothing mattered. You glanced at him quite a few times, admiring the light viel of sweat covering his chest and the soft breaths as he took a few deep inhales.

Not taking any chances of being caught, you went back to checking your phone and saw a text from the group chat you had with a couple of gal pals. They were asking about going to brunch tomorrow and you quickly responded that you were down to clown before placing the phone back on the counter.

“What’s up Tooru?” Your eyes settled back on his frame as he turned to you, a smile grazing his lips. He liked it when you called him by his first name. Not that he’d tell you, but he thought it was cute that you only called him that when you two were alone.

“Nothing much Y/N. Looking for something sweet to eat…”

“Hmm, if I recall you’re the one who ate the last of the rice krispy treats.” You cocked your eyebrow, smirking at his over exaggerated reaction.

“And?” He placed his hand over his heart, “Just because I ate one of your rice krispies treats, and it happened to be the last one doesn’t mean I don’t deserve something sweet.”

“Riiiight, so by one do you mean five? Because I did take the trash out of your room the other day, and there just so happened to be some more wrappers in your bin.”

“Y/N. I would never, and when I say this, I mean never eat all of your snacks. I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing.” Oikawa sassed you back, feigning innocence.

“Mhm.” You hopped out of your seat and walked to your room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out, a little dumbfounded that you up and left.

“Hold your panties dude, I’ll be back.” He crosses his arms and leans into the counter as he waits for a few seconds. He can hear your footsteps coming back to the kitchen only a minute or so later, and suddenly a chocolate bar comes flying at him. It hits him square in the chest, but he catches it as it falls.

His lips stretch out into a genuine smile, looking between you and the chocolate. “I love you Y/N,” Tooru says in a sing-song voice, but rips open the wrapper as he speaks. Once again, his words cause a sudden blush to cover your face and you practically run over to your laptop to use it as cover.

“Whatever Tooru.” He chuckles while getting something to drink, and you see that the group chat has popped off during your short encounter. Decisions had been made in a small amount of time, but now you have plans tomorrow.

“What’s got you so happy?” He says, mouth full.

“Oh, just going out with some friends tomorrow. Haven’t seen them in a while so it’ll be fun.” You don’t bother looking up as you type.

“So I won’t be getting a breakfast special?”

“Are you saying you like burnt toast and crispy eggs?” A soft laugh fills the space when Tooru throws the wrapper in the trash. He pads over to the living area and plops down onto the couch.

“Vegging out for the rest of the night?” You call from the kitchen, still engrossed in the group chat.

“I think so. I’m all caught up with everything and a new episode of that alien series came out yesterday.” A hum in affirmation leaves your lips before sitting down next to him.

The rest of the night is quiet as Tooru watches his show and you text your girlfriends, both of you content with being next to one another in comfortable silence.

“So Y/N”, one of the girls smacks her lips once she places her champagne glass on the table, “You and Oikawa together yet?”

A blush erupts over your skin, and wanting to hide you start to shield your face into your shoulder. “No,” you mumble while the girls laugh at your reaction. They’re some of the only people, mind Hajime, that know about your crush. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve developed these feelings, but it’s starting to have an affect on your dynamic with him.

“Well,” another one of your friends starts, “I think you should hop on it girl. He’s fine as fuck, and I can’t help but imagine what he can do with that body-”

“Alright!” Your best friend breaks up the conversation, seeing you get more uncomfortable by the moment. “We don’t need to talk about Oikawa’s anything right now, but I am curious about him buying new things for your guys’ apartment all the time.”

“I don’t know guys. I think he’s just rich, or something,” you shovel some of your food into your mouth, speaking in between bites. The girls look around at each other and shrug it off.

“Maybe he’s got a side business.”

“Or he’s a sugar baby!” They all laugh, minus you who takes the idea seriously.

Maybe he has a sugar mommy or daddy… I mean, he’s got the looks and personality… You pick at the food on your plate as they continue their conversation.

“I would kill to be a sugar baby,” one of them whined, “Then I could sit around and do whatever I wanted.”

“You mean you could sit around and watch porn,” your best friend interjects. Silence fills the space before another round of laughter erupts from the table.

“Okay, but hear me out…” Another girl whispers under the hollers that can be heard across the restaurant. “I started watching this camboy the other week and it’s really hot.”

“Oh, like the guys who jack off on stream?” They sip out of their champagne glasses.

“Yeah, but when you donate money you can request or get things out of it. The guy I’ve been watching has been doing stuff with some vibrators lately, and I can’t get enough.”

“So,” you look up at them all, placing your fork down, “there’s just this whole category of porn where people do what you want.” They all turn and nod, almost eagerly.

“Did you not know about this Y/N?”

“I mean,” you could feel the heat rise on your face again, “I’ve heard of people jacking off on streams, but I didn’t know it was that popular…” Some of them laugh softly at the notion, but others try to explain further.

“You know, you might like it. I can send you the guy's username I’ve been watching. He streams every Monday for sure, and a few other times during the week. I’ll just text you.” She winks and the rest of the morning is just catching up with everyone.

Over the course of the past few days, your curiosity grew about cam culture and what it entailed. It’s been over a year since your last relationship and it has taken a toll on your sex drive. You aren’t about one night stands or friends with benefits, so you just stick to watching, listening and reading porn when you need to get off, and as the days went by you needed the release.

Making sure your room was locked, you opened your phone and searched through the texts to find your friends suggestion.

“Gr8King”, you whisper to yourself while typing the name into the search bar. The livestream pops into frame and the man is fully clad in a slutty maid outfit, teasing his own nipples with his fingers while he speaks ever so softly into the mic. His head is above the screen, allowing you to only see his mid and lower body down to his calves. He’s lean and toned, and you can feel your own arousal growing at the sight. The notification tones going off every few seconds, hundreds of people donating and thousands watching as he moves a hand slowly down his torso, grabbing the hem of the skirt.

“Should we move on to something more,” he moves closer to the mic, breathing softly and talking in a deeper tone, “sensual?” The vibrations from his voice cause chills to run down your spine. You run a hand over your clothed sex, dying for friction while clenching your thighs.

The skirt comes off, falling to the ground and it leaves him bare on screen. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and his cock is already getting hard. The tip is red, leaking with precum as he moves his hand up the shaft, rubbing the head with his thumb and smearing the liquid around.

Messages increase from the viewers, begging him to do something more, but he stays in his position. “I can’t do anything until the masters say I can,” he whines. Never in your life did you think that you would have a thing for guys in maid outfits, but what was left of the outfit and him calling the audience “master” fueled your curiosity.

That’s when you realize the small animations on screen. Based on the donations, there’s a vibrator going on and anytime someone donates they can change it, and if they exceed a certain amount they get called “master” for the night. More people donate, rapidly changing the speed and he bucks his hips into his fist, moaning breathlessly. “Not- not so much,” he releases his hand except for the pointer finger, running it with a feathery touch from the head to the base. A larger notification shows on screen, a “master” donating a rather large sum of money. Once again, the chat waits in anticipation to see what he’ll do next.

“Looks like master wants me to fuck my dirty little fleshlight while the vibrator gets turned up all the way.” He turns to find what’s necessary, and you stare at the screen, biting your lip.

Am I really enjoying this that much? Your eyes are glued to the screen, waiting in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He returns to the frame, toys in hand and resumes the broadcast.

“How could I deny my masters when they’ve given me so much? I need to be a good boy for them..” he purrs into the mic, teasing the head of his cock on the entrance of the clear fleshlight. The vibrator goes to max, and he shoves the toy down his length, moaning viciously.

Embarrassment floods your system as you listen to this random person whisper sinful things into your ear as he reaches his peak. It’s definitely foreign to you, but the throbbing between your legs makes you want to watch more.

Watching the “Gr8King’s” streams becomes almost routine over the next few weeks. You convince yourself that it’s healthy for you to jack off whenever he streams, but deep down you know it’s just an excuse to stare at some guy guy's body while he talks dirty. In fact, this past week you’ve found yourself wanting to donate for the first time, but you don’t have money to just throw around willy nilly so you just lurk.

The stream boots up, this week being just a normal show where he takes suggestions from any amount. You settle into bed, getting prepared for the night’s activities while listening to the voice call you pet names like “cutie”, “gorgeous” and countless others.

It was a stressful week full of work and school, so you decide to take the time now to really let loose and let him guide you to your climax. He talks about nothing in particular, but does as his audience wants while moaning and playing with himself, leaving you panting on your bed, waiting to release at the same time.

Taking all the time in the world, he edges himself multiple times. You can barely hear his words as you desperately try to keep up, but you can feel the knot grow even further in your lower body. After teasing for almost fifteen minutes, he starts to whimper, begging the audience for relief. The way he speaks into the mic is weirdly familiar, just a few phrases here and there catch you off guard, almost as if you know him. This feeling is quickly washed away from the growing knot in your stomach. The audience give into his pleas immediately and you feel the shock waves of pleasure wrack your body. The high washes over and you pant to regain composure. After lying on the bed for a few seconds, you lazily get up and wash up very quickly before hearing a short growl come from your stomach.

Making something quick, you watch some TikToks on the couch as you eat, too entranced by the memes to see Tooru walk out of his room. Once again, he is shirtless, but he spots you on the couch before entering the kitchen.

He slows his pace to admire your flushed skin and glow as you laugh. His heart beats quickly, and he targets the fridge. You can hear him in the next room over, but you don’t bother to call his name, figuring he would join you shortly.

A few moments later, you hear his bedroom door shut and you’re left alone. “What the fuck?” You check the date on your phone, making sure it’s Monday. He usually watches his alien show with me on Monday’s since we can hang out… With a frown, you turn on the t.v. The newest episode plays out as you mindlessly scroll, wondering what was wrong with him.

Two days later, you finish watching a stream, taking longer than usual to clean up and head back out to the living room, wanting to clean some before Hajime comes over. Much to your surprise, it’s being worked on by Tooru, who’s wearing a muscle tank top and some running shorts. He’s panting quietly as he bends to pick up various pieces of trash, but it leaves you stunned.

When did he get so buff? You peered at his abs and pecs through the large slits on the sides of his shirt, but he turns and catches you staring.

“What’s up, Y/N-chan?” He’s got a sly smirk plastered over his face. Your reaction is involuntary heat takes over your body. Without saying anything, you turn and go back to the safehaven of your room.

Tooru is also stunned over your movements, expecting some kind of sassy retort. Then his phone dings in his pocket. Still freaked out over what happened, he checks his messages and sees you’ve texted the group chat you both have with Iwaizumi.

[I think I’m sick, so you guys have fun tonight <3] His brow furrows; now he’s just confused.

“The fuck did you say to her man?” Hajime shoves a piece of sushi into his mouth, talking between chews. Tooru and himself sat at the counter, talking over some movie that all three of you were supposed to watch.

“I made a joke about her staring at me since I was wearing workout clothes, but I thought she was gonna just punch me or something.” He places the chopsticks down on his plate and tries to think. A light goes off in his head, Hajme can see that, but the look is quickly replaced with one of defeat.

“Imayormaynothavebeenavoidingherforthepastfewdays.” All at once, Oikawa speaks in a rushed and hushed sentence, hoping his best friend caught on.

“Excuse me: what.” There’s no playful tone in the air. Hajime popped that balloon and glares daggers into that thick skull of Oikawa’s.

“I,” he plays with his hands, “may or may not have been avoiding her over the past few days.” The first go around was quieter, but Iwa hears it more clearly, finally understanding what’s going on.

“You’re a fucking moron, you know that right?” Hajime places his utensils down, “I’m not going to get in between whatever’s going on here, but you both need to figure shit out. You can’t just avoid her all of the sudden. Not that she’s said anything to me, but she might be going through something and having one of her best friends just avoiding her out of the blue might not be the best thing for her.” Oikawa’s eyes widen at the words of wisdom. He makes a mental note for later, and the night goes on with the two men watching Godzilla for the 100th time.

Monday afternoon rolls around, and Tooru walks through the door of the apartment, finished with his classes. You’re making some tea to get some homework done, and he marches into the kitchen, raiding the pantry and fridge.

“You okay man?” Your brow pops up in concern. He didn’t have practice today, so why was he acting like this?

“Huh?” He turns with some food stuffed in his mouth. After swallowing, he answers, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to talk with some friends on chat tonight so I wanted to eat quickly.” Hesitantly, you nod, returning to your laptop on the counter. What you couldn’t see was how his heart rate picked up after seeing you in the kitchen. He’s been wanting to confront you about his sudden absence in your life, but everytime he sees you he gets extremely nervous and bolts.

Tooru finishes up with whatever, and practically runs to his room, slamming the door. He scolds himself quietly behind the closed door for not saying anything to you.

Rude. You focus on homework for another thirty minutes or so and check the time, knowing that your weekly ritual is gonna be starting in the next fifteen minutes or so. Packing everything up, you move into the bedroom, checking the lock on the door for the thousandth time before settling down.

In minutes, “Gr8King” appears on screen, this time in a sports uniform. He starts out like normal, teasing the audience with his voice, running his hands along his body as countless people donate and chat in real time.

Just as he’s about to take his jersey off, a notification dings somewhere off camera and he tenses. “Excuse me cuties,” in a rush, he moves out of frame, slightly knocking his camera from it’s normal setup.

In the background, you spot a poster on a wall that’s eerily familiar. It’s light blue, with a man jumping high, arms reaching back as he prepares to attack. A net is settled before him as a volleyball is high in the air. There’s words in a foriegn language, except for the large letters at the bottom of the poster: “Argentina”.

This causes you to stop what you’re doing. You’re not entirely sure why, but the poster pokes and prods at the back of your mind. It’s a thorn you didn’t know you had.

Why does this guy have an Argentinian volleyball poster? The live stream continues in the background while your eyes haze over. Why does this bug you so much? It’s not like I know the dude, but he did seem familiar in a sense...

That’s the last piece. Everything falls into place as you hastily slam the laptop close. Your breaths are heavy as you finally understand. He’s not fucking rich, he’s a fucking camboy! Your fingers run themselves through your hair over and over as your brain tries to process what’s happening.

I’ve been watching Tooru fuck himself for weeks and had no idea. I was watching the guy I’m crushing over please himself for thousands of people, and he’s just down the hall. What the fuck. You try to stop fidgeting, but your anxiety starts to spike.

“Maybe it’s not him. Maybe this is just a weird fucking coincidence that some streamer has the same schedule as Tooru and the same volleyball poster,” legs pacing around the room, you try to rationalize the situation. Talking out loud helps you realize what’s happening, but you speak quietly to ensure he won’t be able to hear you. Your heart is hammering in its cage, the rapid beating making you dizzy.

Before making any hasty decisions, you walk out into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence…” You pull out your phone, turning the sound all the way down and go back to the stream. You don’t actively watch, bouncing your leg as you lean on the counter, and wait for it to end.

You realize it might be a while, and you creep through the hallway, wary of the floorboards that creak and press your face onto his door, listening as closely as possible. Very softly, you can hear moans and grunts, but no actual words. Maybe he’s just working out...

The stream is still playing on your phone, but you return to the kitchen. Not much later, it ends and you wait patiently, timing everything from when it ends. Preemptively, you fill an extra glass with water and set it down. Five minutes pass, and Tooru walks out of his room, sweaty and shirtless. He turns the corner, taking the glass with a small thanks before going to the living room.

The timing makes sense. If he’s the Gr8King than it would make a lot of sense...

[Hajime we need to talk] you type and send before returning to your room, avoiding Tooru. He notices your disappearance and frowns, debating on fetching you. He misses the time you two used to spend together, and he scolds himself further for not bringing it up.

Taking a deep breath, he tells himself to “man up” and sends, [hey, i'm here for you if you need me :)]. He presses his lips into a line before hitting send and placing the phone on the couch next to him.

“So what’s up? Not to be rude but you never wanna go to the juice bar…” Hajme laughs lightly, hiding how nervous he is to be meeting up with you.

“I need to ask you something,” you sip the green smoothie, smacking your lips in disgust at the flavor. “And I need you to be honest with me.” Making eye contact, you set the cup down on the table.

“Y/N you’re freaking me out,” he meets your eyes and clenches his jaw.

“Well,” the blush rises in your cheeks, “I always joke about where Oikawa gets his money,” Hajime tightens his grip on his own cup, but remains silent. “I thought it was weird that he got packages all the time when he was either at home or at practice. Then I realized when he was at home, he’d lock himself in his room.” Your face is bright red and you take a deep breath in. “A friend of mine suggested something to me a few weeks back, and when I looked into it I saw something I don’t think I should have.” You look up at the ceiling, avoiding Iwa’s strong gaze. You don’t say anything, trying to think of a way to ask in the least embarrassing way possible.

“What is it Y/N?” He speaks with a small voice.

“Istooruacamboy?” You whisper, still looking up. Hajime’s face also breaks out into a blush, but he chuckles at the events. His chuckles grow into full on laughter as he buckles over and you’re stunned into silence. This continues for a few minutes until he calms himself down, wiping a few tears from his eyes while he looks up to you.

“I can’t believe you found out by watching him.” Some would say it’s impossible, but your face turned two shades darker as you slap him on the chest.

“Fucking asshole! You fucking knew, didn’t you?!” You punch him in the bicep for good measure as you scold him. His laughter is brought back while sipping on the rest of his drink.

“He started after the first semester of school, just trying new things. He told me it was interesting to him, and I said I wanted no part. He hated working at that sports store, you know that, and when he started to get popular there was no going back.” You sit silently, letting him explain. “I hope you don’t think that he’s like, sex crazed or anything… He’s just doing it for the money as far as I know and he likes being able to work from home.” He smiles, acknowledging his friends work but finishes his drink in silence, waiting for a response.

“I don’t think any different of him,” you shake your head and begrudgingly take another sip. “I just- It’s hard for me to take in? I think? Like, I wanna be supportive for him, and I’d like to think that I am but that doesn’t change that I want to be more.” Hajmie nods in affirmation, already knowing that you have feelings for your mutual best friend.

“I'm gonna keep saying it, just tell him. Tooru’s a good guy, and you two deserve each other.” You bite your lip and keep silent. “But first you should tell him that you know about the cam stuff.” Iwa is nonchalant about it all, and grabs your cup, finishing off the drink.

You sit on the couch, bouncing your leg but keeping an eye on the package that sits on your lap. It was something for him, but you don’t open it. You just sit there, eye’s on the door, waiting for him to get home from practice.

This is a stupid fucking idea, I should just go back to my room. Your leg bounces faster, and the anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You have no idea what’s gonna happen when he steps through that door, but you were set on telling him tonight.

Just then, the sound of keys entering the lock draws you away from your thoughts, the handle jiggling slightly before it turns and Tooru steps through. He’s dressed in sweats and a tee, hair damp from a shower and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He kicks his shoes off and enters the living area, setting the bag down without noticing that you’re watching his every move. Moving into the kitchen, he still doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there as he grabs a glass of water and walks back down the hallway to his room.

“Tooru!” You don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to get this over with. He stops his movements, and pulls an earbud from his left, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah?” He’s unsure what’s causing your outburst, but then he notices the package sitting in your lap, hands softly grasping it to keep its place in your lap. A wave of panic settles down his spine as he slowly spins around and walks to the couch, taking a seat on the other side from you. His eyes are glued to the package, but he notices that it isn’t open.

“I have something I wanted to tell you,” you start softly, placing the cardboard box between you both. He gently sets the glass of water on the glass coffee table and folds his fingers together, settling them on his lap.

“And what’s that?” He’s still shaken, but looks into your eyes.

Your heart starts to pound. What if this is a mistake? He looks like he’s about to throw up. Shaking the doubt from your head, you take a deep breath and hold your gaze. “I know what you do.”

His head cocks to the side, taking in your words. “I’m sorry Y/N, but what does that mean?” He hopes you aren’t alluding to what he thinks you’re getting at.

Another deep breath and you start again, “I know why you spend so much time in your room.”

Tooru’s face flushes with color, the pink hue finding its way onto his skin and he laughs anxiously at your words. “I don’t think I follow.” He’s trying to change the subject, hellbent on finding a way out of this. “Are you saying you know that I masterbate Y/N?” He’s trying to tease you, hoping this conversation would stop and you would hand him his package and be on your way.

Cue your face turning red, but you huff in annoyance, throwing the box at him. “Yeah, if you mean that you’re streaming it.” He catches it and looks at you, eyes are blown wide, and he realizes this is the worst timeline to be alive in. You, on the other hand, are annoyed that you had to say it out loud and stand up, folding your arms and staring him down. “I don’t care, but I wish you would’ve said something to me. As your roommate and your best friend,” ouch, that hurt, “it would’ve been nice to know.”

With that, you march into the kitchen, looking for a way to cool off, but a pair of arms sneak around your waist as you rummage through the freezer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles into your hair. The close contact wasn’t abnormal, but it never felt like this. Your body heats up when his breath hits your skin, but you remain in your place. “I just- I didn’t know how you would react and Hajime kept telling me to talk to you about it, but I always get too nervous to bring it up.”

You spin around, his arms still on your hips, and watch his face carefully. He looks concerned still, but there’s a small pleading in his look. “And why were you nervous?”

Tooru’s face turns a shade darker, “It’s just weird, I guess. You’re one of the only girls in my life that I'm kinda serious about I didn’t wanna loose you if you thought that I just thought about sex all the time.”

Was that a confession? Your head starts to spin when he realizes what just happened.

“I MEAN, uh, you’re one of the only girls that I consider a big part of my life, you know?” He’s frantic and stumbling over his words, but you stay absolutely still. His grip on your hips loosens, he wants to run into his room but sticks it out to see what you do.

Instead, you surprise him by nuzzling yourself further into his neck. “You’re very important to me too, Tooru.” Your voice is soft, and muffled against his neck but he smiles into your head, living in the moment. He wraps his arms around your frame, squeezing you tight against his firm chest.

“I’m kinda serious about you too…” The statement was almost lost to the hum of the a.c. unit, but Tooru caught your words and he stiffened up. You stay exactly as you are, praying to whatever god is out there that this all works out in your favor.

It takes a few seconds for him to come back to earth, realizing how hot your face is against his skin, but once he regains consciousness he chuckles. The vibrations ripple through your body, as you both remain in one another's arms. Your first thought was that he was laughing at you, and the panic settles under your skin. He can feel you start to pull away, but tightens his grip on your body, effectively trapping you in this position.

“Iwa-chan’s right, we are idiots.” Everything is so confusing. Does he like me back? Is this a joke? What does Hajime have to do with any of this? Countless thoughts along these lines run through your head, and Tooru knows this. “We’ve both been pining over each other for months.”

His words process with high speeds as you pull back. He had loosened his grasp, but his hands remained on your sides as you both stared into each other's eyes. You search his for answers, while Tooru finds comfort in yours.

He laughs breathlessly once he can see your body relax, and he dips down to meet your lips. Tooru’s movements are fluid, moving both hands up to your jaw while tilting his head. You gasp once his soft lips meet yours. They taste like his dumb chapstick that he carries around everywhere.

Tooru takes it slow, moving at your pace while humming into the kiss. Pulling back after a few seconds, you lean forward to catch his lips before he detaches himself. Rubbing a thumb on your cheekbone, he flashes the most brilliant smile. In the year you’ve known him, this is the most genuine and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen him do, and you can see it in his eyes.

“Y/N,” his voice is ever so soft, gliding in the air from his lips to your ears. Tooru’s eyes hold nothing but adoration in them as you stare into each other's eyes. “I don’t want to be serious with anyone but you.”

The bright blush returns to your cheeks, the warmth between your two bodies rising exponentially. His thumb doesn’t stop moving across your cheekbones. He's in total bliss as nothing in the world could matter more than what was happening at this moment in your shared apartment.

You smile up at him and grab onto his hand that's stroking your face, and just hold it closer to your skin. After a light squeeze, you both shift positions to hug once more, Tooru's arms latching around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Thank you," he states, the world muffled from your hair as he has lodged himself in the crook of your neck.

"For what?" You mumble back, rubbing an arm up and down his neck.

A deep chuckle causes your body to rumble, and a soft breath cascades down your neck before he pressed feathery kisses behind your ear. They're lighter than air, but you can sense he's holding back a bit. "For not being upset with me, for putting up with me, for accepting me, for everything." His whispers are woven into your skin, goosebumps rising up and down your spine as he speaks.

You push yourself further into his chest, a silent affirmation that everything is okay and will be okay. He smiles as he continues to press his lips to your neck, humming in the silence.

After a few minutes more of embracing one another Tooru pulls away, hands grazing your hips as he stares deeply into your eyes. His chocolate iris’ swirl with several emotions as you take in the vulnerability. You have only known Tooru as the charming, flamboyant character he puts on around almost everyone else. Maybe once or twice in your year of living with him have you seen this side of him, in which he offers himself as he is, not as who he wants to be perceived as.

Tooru presses a quick kiss to your lips and puts some pressure on your hips, signalling he wants to move. You both relocate to the couch, where he traps you in his arms and lap.

“I’m curious,” you reposition to look up at him, but he chuckles at your wide and curious eyes. “How did you find out about my streams?” A teasing grin makes its way on to his lips and your brain short circuits.

“Uh.. about that…” You purse your lips, looking anywhere but him, embarrassed of the insinuation of your actions.

Tooru breath fans against your neck, his face dipping down into that crook once more while letting out a low laugh. Sparks fly between you two when his lips brush your ear. He whispers, “You’ve watched me, haven’t you?”

With lightning speed, you snap your face to match his, but he’s quick to recover the initial shock with a deep kiss. He cranes his neck to further the kiss, pulling at your bottom lip with his own. Still startled by his teasing, you give in easily to his antics and within seconds his tongue has entered your mouth.

A low growl escapes him all while you succumb to his movements. His hand snakes up your side, settling itself on your rib below your breast. Tooru rubs his thumb in that spot, but you are lost in his taste to feel his hand.

You start to move in sync with him, moving together and letting each other take the reigns. Oikawa adores your feisty spirit, and when it starts to show through your movements, it only excites him more. You explore his mouth with your tongue, and suck on his lower lip as he slowly moves his hand back down your sides to cup your ass.

Now that you’re in control of your actions, you feel his hand stop right above your butt, almost as if he’s asking permission, but you grab a hold of his wrist and shove it down. That hand lets go of his arm and down to the hem of his shirt. A few fingers make contact with his toned stomach, and he shivers at the cold sensation.

“Impatient much?” Tooru repositions you so you’re straddling him. You don’t break off the kiss and place your hands on either side of his face, the tips of his hair tickling your fingertips. His large hands grasp under your thighs as he hoists the both of you up and off of the couch. Hastily he moves down the hall and into your room, busting through the door and gently he places you down on the edge of your mattress.

You pull away, breathless and stare into his eyes once more. The tension in the room is thick, but warm and comforting. He smiles at the look in your eyes, knowing that you’re in no way anxious of what’s about to happen.

“Are you sure about this Y/N? We don’t have to do anything before the first date.” His smile is intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to pressure you in any way.

“I want you Tooru, I’m good,” this time you rub a thumb across his cheekbone in reassurance. Smiles on both of your faces, he dips back down to capture your lips and push you onto your back.

Your mattress is firm underneath you, the bed frame shifting under the weight of two people. The cold sheets scrunch under your back contrasting the warm embrace of Oikawa as he dips down on top of you, running a hand through your hair.

“Do you trust me?” He speaks while hovering over your body. You push yourself up to meet his lips, giving him a quick peck on the side of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” You laugh and lay back down, pulling the front of his shirt to pull him down with you.

Tooru laughs into the kiss, pressing his chest into your own. All of his kisses are electrifying, the spark runs up and down your spine while you both like with one another.

You take the next step and tug at the hem of his shirt while wrapping your legs around his lower half. His skin raises in temperature but he follows suit, practically tearing the fabric off of himself. You watch Tooru get shirtless and fully take in his figure.

It's not like you haven't seen him like this, but this is the first time you've ever actually took a good, long look at Oikawa's figure (knowing it was him, at least). He works out regularly for volleyball and maintains a good diet, and it shows. His chest is firm when you place a hand on it, and his abs create a valley down his stomach.

As you feel him up and down, Tooru stares at your face as it scrunches curiously. "Like what you see cutie? It shouldn't be anything new."

You blush but smack his chest in retaliation. A low laugh escapes his lips, but he sneaks a hand to the bottom of your shirt, poking a few fingers into your stomach in a wordless question of what to do. You squirm in your position and he helps remove your shirt.

Arms cover your chest instantly as you realize you're wearing one of your older bras that isn't the most flattering thing on the planet.

Noticing the shift in tone, Tooru gently unfolds your arms. "None of that Y/N." You don't put up any resistance as he speaks sweet and salty worlds into your ear. His hands are coarse and rough, calloused from years of training but he untouched you with a softness, almost as if he was handling a dove.

He kisses your neck making his way down your chest while reaching underneath you, unclasping the bra and throwing it onto the floor.

With your breasts exposed, Oikawa pins your arms on either side and continues down your clavicle, down through the valley between your chest. You whimper when he suddenly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, gently biting and sucking of the soft bud.

Instinctually you squeeze your thighs together, but he stands between them and he hums into your breast, knowing you're starting to grow impatient. Tooru's other hand moves to the opposite breast, kneading it in his palm.

A soft moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips into his, shock waves of pleasure wrack your body while your cunt starts to throb.

Oikawa moves further down your stomach, reaching the button of your pants. He peers up at you, pupils dilated and hungry. You nod and lift your hips while he removes both the pants and panties you were wearing.

He stands at the edge of the bed, removing the rest of his clothes and let's his cock spring free. It's red at the tip, which reaches up to his abs from being hard.

Tooru’s hips meet yours, laying his long cock over your bare stomach while rubbing soft circles into your thighs. “Look at how deep I’m gonna be inside of you cutie.” A quiet whimper leaves your lips, wrapping your legs around his waist in a silent plea. His eyes burn into your skin.

“Tooru, please…” The desperation in your voice only spurs him on as he drinks you in, lying bare, begging for him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and his dick hardens further at the sound of your voice.

A switch flips in his brain once you swirl your hips, and a smirk pulls at his lips. He leans forward, pressing his body into your, getting dangerously close to your ear and fanning hot breath over your skin. Chills erupt from the sensation and make their way across your body, causing a whimper to involuntarily escape your mouth when his hot skin presses into your cold chest. “What do you want, Y/N?” Tooru’s voice is quiet, but the vibrations from his words have an effect on your body you thought wasn’t possible. He presses feathery kisses into the sweet skin on your neck, causing you to tilt your head.

“I want-” Your voice is breathless as you search for words. “I want you to-” Suddenly, he slips his dick in between your folds, slowly moving his hips up and down, getting himself ready with your slick. The electricity of his movements force a moan through your throat, Oikawa relishing in the sound of your voice as he uses his thumb moves to apply pressure on your clit.

Still breathing hot air onto your neck, he mumbles, “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” Your eyes shut as a thousand tiny confirmations leave your body, physical and not. He revels in the moment, realizing the control you both have over each other. He can’t help wanting more of you, all of you. Your aura is intoxicating, and Tooru feels drunk off of your presence.

“Please.” He continues grinding his length down your folds. “Just fuck me already.” Your voice is raspy, pleading for movement, connection, anything. Arms folding around his neck, you grind harder into his cock while he continues to rub the sensitive bud.

“So impatient.” His voice is dark, sultry and enticing. It draws you in, leaving you stunned and you can’t think straight anymore. “I bet you’ve wanted this. Watching me stream, you got to see all of me little cutie,” Tooru readjusts himself, placing the tip at your entrance, drawing circles with it. “Now I get to see all of you.”

He slowly pushes forward, letting his dick get sucked in to you as you cry out at the contact. Oikawa starts to lose himself at the feeling of your pussy when it twitches. His eyes never leave the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

You take a moment to breath as his hips lay flush with yours, but you take action and raise your hips. He hisses at the movement, not expecting you to set the pace so quickly.

Snapping out of it as you move your hips back, Tooru moans loudly and grabs one hip and leans over you, placing his other hand next to your face. His face gets inches in front of yours, matching your movements and leans in to take your lips once more.

His hips move back and forth, building up speed through both of you ravenous moans and whimpers. Through the sounds and movements, you feel his cock penetrate you with endless force, as if it fits perfectly inside of you.

You moan his name as Tooru pounds into you, scratching at his back from the waves of pleasure. Feeling you clench around him almost teasingly, the hand on your hip moves to your clit, and Oikawa starts to rub circles.

"Fuck Tooru!" You press your nails harder into his skin and he growls at the sensation. You can feel yourself getting close, the knot building larger with every second.

He pulls back from your lips and looks at your face. Your eyebrows are scrunched and your eyes are shut. The way his hips move is better than you could’ve imagined, even more sexual than his streams. Oikawa shifts his position to hit you deeper, his dick just barely hitting your cervix.

"I'm close," you mumble from bruised lips. He can’t hold himself back much longer and his thrusts become erratic. Tooru plants his lips on your ear, speaking a thousand words to you which you’re unable to hear. His thrusts and deep and fill you to the brim. The pleasure becomes too much for you to be able to focus and with one thrust you tense and the knot snaps.

He moans your name loudly when he feels your walls clench down on him. Swiftly, Tooru pulls out and finishes on your stomach, white ropes decorating your soft skin.

His head is still next to yours, but you’re both panting. It takes a few seconds for both of you to come back to your senses, but he prys himself up and off of you, looking down on his work. “You’re gorgeous Y/N, just fucking stunning.” He admires your glowing form while you stare at him, a smile adorning your features.

Oikawa moves first, placing another soft kiss to your lips before going to the bathroom for a warm towel. You lay in bed, just thinking about everything. How did I get here? You never thought that watching camboy porn would ever lead to you getting with the guy you’ve wanted for a while now, but if it works out then it works out you guess.

He returns a few moments later and cleans you up, throwing the rag with the rest of your clothes and climbs into the sheets, maneuvering you onto his chest where he cuddles you and runs a hand through your hair.

You close your eyes, breathing onto his bare chest and take in the beat of silence. You can’t see it, but Tooru looks down at you and smiles. You’re finally his. He can finally hold you in his arms and give you all the love he thinks you deserve. His heart swells at the notion, and makes a mental note to thank Iwaizumi later in general since he feels in a giving mood.

Oikawa feels your breath even out, your chest rising and falling in a slow pattern. Your senses are drifting from you, but you’re able to make out a few things before you pass out. Tooru places a kiss on the crown of your head, pressing his lips into your hair and he whispers something before you completely fall asleep.

“I love you Y/N.”

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 6)

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the anticipated party.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings boytoy!Bucky, mention to casual sex, open relationship, someone catching feelings.

A/N: No smut in this one… Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

Bucky takes a sip from the whiskey in his hand and, for a glimpse of a moment, he thinks of the time he would absolutely hate the scenario around him right now, crowded with people of all imaginable sorts, loud chattering and music, dance floors flashing with bright and colorful lights. A party, but not just a party, a Tony Stark Party, filled with all of that and also the best food in the country and even better drinks. He used to loath them, until he freed himself from his own mind restraints and remembered what a party really was: an opportunity to let yourself lose, follow no rules except to have fun and, of course, meet some nice people, especially women – lots of them- to spend time with… in his bed.

What had never crossed his mind, though, is that would come a day when he would be interested in meeting just one. And he holds his gaze on her right now. She’s there, among the sea of bodies, sipping from her drink while laughing and talking with her friends, Nat and Sharon.

Bucky can’t help the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her having her fun. As she should be…that party is all for her, after all. She looks beautiful, as usual, in a shimmery short dress and heels high enough to make a desert of his mouth. But it’s that loose laugh of hers, when her head falls a bit backwards as her shoulders shake and she puts her hand over her stomach, that makes his heart flutter inside his chest… He doesn’t even notice when his smile turns into a shuddering sigh.

He clears his throat before taking a long taste of his whiskey, hoping the strong liquor down his throat would help to put himself together. This is getting ridiculous… He needs to figure out what this huddle of… strange feelings growing inside him every time he sees or even thinks of her means… He needs to figure that shit out soon.

“Well, well, well.”

Steve’s voice grasps his attention as his eyes advert from her to meet his friend walking closer to him.

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky doesn’t even know why but he immediately hates that little teasing smile on Steve’s face, he decides to ignore it, though.

“That’s one vision I’m not really used to. Bucky Barnes drinking all alone at a party. Where’s the mini harem that it’s usually seen surrounding you at such events?” Steve asks, not trying to disguise the playful sarcasm in his words.

“Night is only beginning, pal,” Bucky answers, putting on a cocky smile and tapping on Steve’s shoulder, using a bit more strength than usual.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve chuckles, not thoroughly convincedby the excuse, “You know, ever since Nat and I came back from the mission, I’ve been hearing some interesting speculations from some members of the team who stayed here…”

“Do I wanna hear it?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

Steve hums, “The word is out you’re just not the same anymore,” he shrugs and sips from his drink, peeking Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“They don’t see the usual parade of women coming and going from your apartment. Sam says there’s been one mysterious lady, though… but none of them seem to guess who.” With no hint of subtleness in him and with a teasing smirk on his lips, Steve turns his gaze to her direction across the room.

“Jesus…” Bucky huffs, shaking his head before drinking from his whiskey, “Fucking all mighty Avengers… Don’t you all have a World or two to save instead of gossiping about my private life?”

“Which was never really that private, let us be honest.” Steve laughs.

Bucky can’t help but to let out a small laugh, too, shrugging at the incontestability of the statement. He was never one to be much discreet about his shenanigans.

“What is that exactly?” Steve insists, nodding his head in her direction, where she still talks animatedly with her friends, “I didn’t know you were, ahm, close friends with Y/n from the tech department.”

“Didn’t you walk in on us the other day?” Bucky puts on a mocking frown at him, “Do you need me to reenact it for you, pal? You know I would have no problem with that, but we’re gonna have to ask her-“

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve cuts him off, his cheeks already showing a shade of pink at the memory, “And don’t you think I didn’t notice that little stunt on movie night, too,” he adds in a chastising way, but the scowl quick breaks into a smile when Bucky laughs, “You know what I’m talking about, you’re Bucky, you love ladies, as in plural, you have loved them ever since you were a kid in the 30’s, I have to admit you’ve always been respectful in your own way, but you were never been a guy to settle for just one for longer than a night or two…” Steve follows Bucky’s gaze, which has automatically navigated towards her. He lets out a knowing hum before speaking again, “But I guess your path just hadn’t crossed with hers, yet…”

Bucky looks back at Steve, whose eyes are gleaming with something like excitement. Bucky doesn’t know exactly how the words sink into him, but he feels like he can’t just disagree, not if he’s going to be completely honest. Never has he felt the need to be with only one woman for that amount of time until… until her.

“I mean,” Steve continues after no answer from Bucky, “I think it’s great, it was about time for you to find someone-“

“Don’t go imagining unrealistic scenarios on your romantic little head, Punk. My name is not Steve Rogers to get off on,” a grimace twists Bucky’s face as he speaks, “Love, attachment… or any tacky sort of shit you’re into.”

Steve opens his mouth as if he were to say something, but lets out a frustrated sigh instead, pressing his lips into a taut line.

“No, seriously, pal,” Bucky continues, in a less snapping tone, “Our, ahm, friendship is based exclusively on what you’ve seen and heard so far,” he smirks, “Sex. She had just gotten out of a long relationship and needed to get off, Nat thought of me - of course -introduced my dick to her pussy, they’ve become best of friends and here we are now,” he holds back a laugh, knowing damn well how the vulgar choice of words would make Steve’s 40’s little brain short-circuit, being the precise reason why he chose to put it that way.

“Alright, alright, you’re just messing with me now,” Steve seems in a hurry to make his friend stop talking.

Bucky lets out the laugh he was holding and punches his friend’s shoulder, gaining a dirty look in response before resuming, “I mean… It’s nothing like you’re insinuating, she’s great and we’ve been having fun, that’s all,” Bucky adds as his gaze falls upon her again. Yeah… she’s great. And beautiful, sexy, funny, smart, kind- clearing his throat to dismiss his own betraying line of thoughts, he turns back to his friend.

“If you say so.” A small smile curls Steve’s lips, showing he’s anything but convinced.

Goddammit, he does have a lot to figure out.

~~~

“I knew something was up, Bucky never stays for movie nights.” Tears fill Sharon’s eyes from how hard she’s been laughing.

“I felt like a horny teenager in my parents’ home,” you resume the story you’ve been entertaining Sharon and Nat with, “Not that my teen years were that exciting,” you add with a grimace, “Far from it exactly, I was a tech nerd since I was eight, not really something that rocks teen boys’ worlds.” Bucky seems to really dig it, though, is the immediate thought that pops into your mind, but you see no reason why you should say it out loud.

“Well, it did bring you far enough,” Nat winks at you, moving her glass around the party being held to celebrate you to emphasize her point.

“Damn right,” Sharon agrees, raising her glass, which you and Nat quickly follow in a cheerful toast.

You can’t shake the smile of your lips. You wouldn’t go as far as to connect the events, but after your breakup with Eddie, it seems like you’re living another life. A new and more exciting life, both personally and professionally… That’s why it shouldn’t bother you so much that you still haven’t seen him. He said he would be there after you called to tell the news and invite him to come. But it does bother you to casually look around the party and not spotting him…

“So, it’s been like a month since this deal of yours started, right?” Nat asks, catching your attention after gulping from her customary vodka.

“Yeah,” your eyebrows furrow as you nod, “Sounds about right… and what a month, holy shitballs…” You round your eyes, letting out a puff.

“Care to share more details?” Sharon asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Well…” You quickly survey the area around you and sneakily lean closer to them as they mimic you, “I had no idea what my body could do, I mean, I’ve been in positions I’ve never thought were humanly possible to perform, there’s not a day I don’t feel sore on every little inch of me, it’s a constant state by now,” you add, and the grin on your face tells how little the soreness really bothers you.

“Super soldiers…” Sharon smirks and winks before clinking her glass of champagne with yours.

As Nat chuckles, you let out a giggle, “Yeah, I mean, my poor pussy hasn’t seen that much action her entire life.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she scoffs and turns to Sharon, “Check this out… this woman wouldn’t even say the word “sex” without choking before,” she points at you and you shrug, keeping the smile on your face.

“That’s the Barnes effect,” Sharon comments, before turning to you, ”But wait a minute, how often you two have been keeping this encounters up?”

You take a second to think about it before answering, “Almost daily, I guess. When I don’t call him, he ends up calling me and so we go.”

“Really?” Nat asks and when you give her the confirmation, her brows snap together as a wondering “huh” slips out of her lips.

She seems surprised by the fact you’re seeing Bucky practically every day, but you think nothing of it, “I’m sending you a whole box of this vodka you like so much, by the way.” You point at her glass, “You deserve it. I was just waiting for you to come back from that long ass mission of yours.”

He expression shifts to an amused one, “Oh, well, cheers to that,” she says before gulping down the rest of the liquid in her glass.

“But let me ask you something,” Sharon cuts in, “You’ve been seeing him almost daily, having amazing sex with the Adonis we all have to agree Bucky is…” she looks at Natasha for support, who just nonchalantly shrugs her agreement, before turning back to you, “Don’t you think it can become a bit complicated? In the feelings area, I mean, Bucky can be pretty charming, but when it comes to commitment, well-” She tilts her head as a hint of concern is present on her voice.

Nat too focuses on you, interested in what you have as an answer.

You snort and waves dismissively at their concern, “No way. Don’t worry, you two. Neither of us are looking for such a thing. It is what it is: just sex. Bucky is amazing, I don’t think I would be able to have that sort of relationship with anyone other than him. He’s so relaxed and laid back, no games… he’s pretty clear with his intentions, which is no romance at all and that’s exactly what I need right now. We both want the exact same thing, that’s pretty clear ever since we set this deal and it’s not going to change,” you say with tranquility and firmness in your words.

“Are you sure?” Nat insists, giving you that look you know it’s all about her making sure you’re ok. “This whole idea came from me but I know Bucky for a long time, I know he’s not one to do feelings, but I’ve been worried about how you would take it.”

“Absolutely…” you guarantee “And to be honest, I know I need to work on it, I do, but when I think about a relationship, I mean, a conventional relationship, I still think of Eddie… I feel like I’m still too caught up on him to think of anyone else that way,” You shrug, pressing your lips in a line, “Bucky’s being really important to help me get through it all, though, I have to admit it.”

“Well… I’m glad.” Nat gives you a sympathetic smile, brushing a hand on your arm.

“Alright… I guess you have a boytoy, then, huh?” Sharon teases.

You laugh, before conceding with a nod, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Nat says in a quiet mumble and nods to behind your shoulder.

Before you have the chance to turn around you hear his voice. That deep and raspy voice that usually makes your skin burn and tonight is no different, “Well, well, if it isn’t the power trio… Am I the devil by any chance?” Bucky steps beside you, narrowing his eyes at Natasha, before shooting you that captivating smile of his, the one that prompts a smile of yours to swiftly twist your lips too, “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you answer, seizing the moment to take him over. He looks absolutely ravishing with his styled fluff hair, light scruff shadowing his jaw and beautiful eyes stuck on you, wearing an untied blue suit over a casual white t-shirt that not every man could make it work. Sharon was damn right, Bucky really is charming… too charming for his own good.

“So, talking about me, ladies?” He insists, tilting his head and focusing a piercing gaze on you, despite addressing all three.

There’s something about him… you just can’t stop smiling at his presence and, even worse, don’t seem to be able to tell a lie, not even an innocent one to save your ass, so you decide to take a sip of your champagne and leave it to your friends to answer the question. You guess boytoy can’t be worse than “human dildo”, like you called him before, but that has been just between you two...

“Yeah, yeah,” Sharon is the one to step in, holding back a laugh just like you, as Natasha, ever a pro, sustains a perfect poker face, “I haven’t seen Steve, yet and I was wondering if he would be with you.”

If you’ve seen a flicker of disappointment in his eyes it quickly vanishes as he turns to Sharon, “Oh, yeah, he was. Look, there he is by the bar,” Bucky points, “And you might wanna check the amount of Asgardian Liquor is being sneaked to him, the guy is already talking nonsense.”

“Oooo, Asgardian Liquor Steve is the best, I give twenty minutes before he starts summoning Mjölnir from wherever Thor is now,” Sharon’s face twinkles with excitement, “See you guys later,” she adds before rushing towards the bar and her boyfriend.

As a girl from the staff comes along and refills Nat’s glass with her special vodka, Bucky looks back at you. You smile at him but soon frowns a bit. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you and you can’t just pinpoint what it is. There’s always sheer hunger in his gazes for you that makes your spine tremble, but tonight… there’s something a bit more… introspective in it, maybe?

“So, enjoying your night?” he asks.

You brush your thoughts away to answer, “Oh, shit, yeah… This is unbelievable. I was never one to party that much, but I could get used to this.” You sign with your glass around, still marveled by the over the top event being held in your name. “Tony is out of this world.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s true, though,” Natasha comments with an exaggerated eye roll.

You chuckle before a sight behind Bucky’s shoulders catches your eye.

“Hey, I-“ Bucky starts.

“He’s here,” cutting out whatever Bucky was gonna say to you, your voice comes out in a gasp as your hands run cold and your heart races.

“Who? Tony?” Bucky asks with a grin, turning his face towards the direction you’re staring at with startled eyes.

“Eddie,” Nat is the one who answers, pointing at the man standing alone by the entrance, seeming a little lost as he glances around.

Not you nor Natasha sees when the smile on Bucky’s face falls. When he looks back around, though, he already has a lighthearted expression put on for you.

“I should go talk to him, right?” You check, shifting looks from him to Nat. As she just shrugs, curling the corner of her lips down - and by that, expressing exactly what she thinks - you appeal to Bucky, focusing pleading eyes on him. Deep down, you know what you wanna do, but for some reason, just needs someone to back you up.

“Yeah-“ he clears his throat, “I mean, you invited him, haven’t you?” He tightens his lips at an attempt of a smile.

“You’re right.” You nod, biting your lips nervously and looking straight ahead, “See you guys later.” You wave, after taking one or two deep breaths.

Your shoulder brushes against Bucky as you walk past him and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse reminds him she’s still right there and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to seeing on her face.

He lets out a deep breath, “What?”

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in a state of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried about the wrong person.”

~~~

To be continued.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction

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thewayofthemandalorian · 3 years

Text

together and apart - oneshot

(gif credit: @bestintheparsec)

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rating: G Word count: 2,019 Summary: After the events of the day, you and Din are restless and have a discussion about what to do next. Notes: I cannot believe that we have reached the end of season 2 of The Mandalorian! I am in shock over this episode. This does have heavy spoilers for the season 2 finale, episode 2.08 “Chapter 16: The Rescue” so read at your own risk if you haven’t seen the episode yet and don’t want to be spoiled. Warnings: Spoilers for season 2, a little bit of kissing, emotional hurt/comfort.

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Back and forth. Back and forth. Up and down the small corridor.

Din Djarin was pacing while he thought you were resting. His helmet and armour lay resting on the floor beside the cot you shared with him on Slave I, a poor replacement for the ship where your love for each other had grown and blossomed like wildflowers.

His beskar armour, his jet pack, blaster and helmet lay neatly stacked beside the door. The only thing missing from the tidy pile was the Darksaber which he had won hours ago in battle against Moff Gideon who was now a prisoner of Bo-Katan, who was none too pleased that your lover had won what she believed was rightfully hers.

You heard Din’s bootless feet shuffle back and forth endlessly in the cramped corridor just outside, his mind restless. Adrift at sea.

It was easy to understand why he was so restless, you thought. You were restless yourself. And perhaps would be for a long while. Your little family had been changed drastically today after the face-off against Moff Gideon.

When the dark troopers had re-boarded the ship, you had thought you were done for. You had been there when Din tried to fight off one and very nearly did not succeed, the only thing saving him being the beskar spear.

Back and forth.

Din thought you were sleeping. As if you could sleep after what had happened. What you were missing, and would miss for the rest of your days.

You remembered your saviour. A mysterious and powerful Jedi by the name of Luke Skywalker who had heard Grogu’s call on Tython and had followed you to Moff Gideon’s ship just in the nick of time to save your group.

And to take Grogu for training.

Back and forth.

It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, saying goodbye to the small child who you had long since considered to be a son of yours. You had barely held back tears as you watched Din forego his creed, taking off his helmet so that his son could remember his father’s face. It was the first time you had seen his face as well, not being present with him and Mayfeld when they broke into the Imperial base on Morak to get the co-ordinates for Moff Gideon’s ship; you had stayed with Boba, Fennec, and Cara.

As Din promised Grogu that they would see each other again, you had broke, sobbing as you kissed his wrinkled green forehead. Din himself was hardly able to contain his own tears.

“I promise to protect and train this child,” Skywalker said solemnly.

Grogu almost seemed hesitant to follow him, like he needed permission. “All right, pal. It’s time to go. We will see each other again. I promise. Don’t be afraid,” Din said quietly, the last part both to Grogu and to the two of you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you whispered, giving his big ear one final stroke. Din took your free hand in his, rubbing your thumb soothingly as Grogu made his way over to the Master Jedi and his blue and white droid.

Back and forth.

And then there was the issue of the Darksaber. Din had rightfully won it in his face-off with Moff Gideon. But he didn’t want it.

He had tried to foist it off onto Bo-Katan, who wanted it for herself - that had been her terms for joining you on this mission, that she get the Darksaber - but apparently it didn’t work that way. It had to be won in battle.

Even yielding, as he had attempted to do, was not possible. Din Djarin was the rightful heir to Mandalore.

Back and forth.

* * *

“Din?” You had had enough waiting in silence, waiting for him to come to bed. It was late. The two of you were emotionally and physically exhausted, but no sleep would find you.

Your voice startled him from his pacing. “What are you doing up, cyare?”

Very tactfully, you did not look into his face, which you had seen for the first time proper earlier today. “I could ask you the same thing,” you replied. You hugged him, resting your cheek against the soft, worn fabric of the tunic he wore. His heartbeat was a melody in your ear.

“I can’t sleep. A lot on my mind.” He sounded vulnerable, unsure of himself.

You nodded against his chest. “Me, too.” You sighed sadly. “I hope he will be all right with Skywalker.”

Din didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m sure he will be just fine.” He didn’t sound convinced.

“I miss him.” You felt your throat constrict with fresh tears.

A moment later, Din pulled your face away from his chest, tilting your chin up to look at him. He looked distraught. His eyes were red-rimmed, glazed with unshed tears. “I do, too,” he said hoarsely. “But we will see him again. I am sure of it.”

A shaky breath left your lips as you looked up at your lover’s face for the second time. The face you thought you would not see until (unless?) you married him.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek, peppered with stubble. “I never told you. It wasn’t the right time earlier. But I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a poor attempt to diffuse some of the sadness that had you shrouded. Din smiled ruefully all the same. “You’re biased.” He kissed your forehead.

His glance fell to the Darksaber that was propped against the wall next to the sleeping chamber and his smile, weak to begin with, dropped.

Turning, you followed his gaze with a sigh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked hesitantly, turning back to look at him.

Din shrugged. “What’s there to talk about?”

You gestured at the Darksaber behind you. “You’re the heir to Mandalore, Din.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

You pursed your lips, hesitating a moment before saying gently, “I don’t think it works like that.” You stroked his cheek again, watching as he closed his eyes at your touch as he had when Grogu had stroked his cheek earlier today.

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you brushed your lips against his in a soft kiss, pulling back before he could properly kiss you back. “I will support you, no matter what ends up happening.”

Din’s eyes closed again. You had said something similar when he had been quested to find a Jedi to train Grogu almost a year ago. He was remembering that moment, you figured.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest again. “What would I do without you, cyare?” he murmured against the crown of your head.

The two of you stood like that for a long while.

* * *

After a considerable amount of silence, you spoke so quietly you weren’t sure he could hear you. “Are you thinking about him, too?”

Din’s breath hitched. “I am.”

You rubbed his back consolingly. You hadn’t been with Din when he and Grogu had first come together, coming on shortly after he had gone on the run with the child after initially turning him over to the client working for Moff Gideon.

All the same, the bond between them was impossible to deny. And you had very quickly formed a strong bond with both the baby and with the Mandalorian who protected him.

“He’s going to be all right, Din. And who knows? This might not be for ever. He could come back to us.” It was naive of you to think that, but you couldn’t help but cling to a small hope that it was true.

Din was kind enough not to dispute you, hoping and praying to the Maker that you were right. That he was able to keep the promise that he had made to Grogu.

“I hope you are right, cyare,” he said, his voice raspy.

You were tired. Din was tired. “We should try to get some sleep,” you said, looking him in the eye. His face was weary and exhausted and emotional and you just wanted him to rest with you for a while.

Din allowed you to pull him the very short distance to the sleeping room. Stooping down, you picked up the Darksaber to place with his armour.

You handed it to him. “This is yours, Din. We don’t have to talk about it tonight. We don’t have to talk about - about him tonight. For tonight we should just rest. Try and get some sleep. Everything may not make sense tomorrow, but we can face it with clearer, rested minds.”

You stood on your tiptoes again, pressing your forehead to his as you pressed the Darksaber into his hand.

Pressing a kiss to the side of his lips, you whispered, “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Din. I just want you to be happy and do what you think is best, as you always do.”

Din looked despondent as he stroked your arm. “Did I make the best choice today, though?” he asked quietly.

You sighed. “As much as we wanted to have Grogu stay with us, I think he needs to be trained by somebody who knows what they are doing. It would be selfish of us to deny him that.” Your heart disagreed. You wanted to hold on to Grogu and keep him with you and Din, but you knew that you could not. So you did what you could, and loved him as a son for as long as you could.

“You’re right, cyare. It isn’t the way to be selfish.” Din pulled the sheets down, settling into the cot.

Lying down to face him, you sighed. “I wish I wasn’t right.”

You yawned suddenly, two tears slipping down your cheeks as you did. Din wiped them away with his thumb. “We should sleep. As you said, we don’t have to make a decision tonight.”

Kissing you good night softly, Din whispered the words you had so often wondered if he would ever speak aloud. “I love you, sweet girl.”

The words had never been said aloud before by either of you, but he knew you loved him as much as you knew he loved you.

Smoothing his stray hair out of his forehead, you kissed the skin between his eyebrows. “I know. I love you, too.”

Finally settling into sleep next to him, you knew the answers wouldn’t come easy.

Who was to say if Din would become the next Mand’alor? If he would renounce the title to Bo-Katan or if he would step up and claim the title?

Equally as hard to determine was whether you and Din would ever see Grogu again. It had not even been a full day and you already felt the loss of his presence greatly. It was different when he had been abducted by Moff Gideon. The chance of seeing him again was greater then than it was now. But still, you had to hold on to hope.

Things would not be clear right away, but regardless of what came your way, you and Din would face them. Together.

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 3 years

Text

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 1: The Void

A/N: An alt ending/fix-it fic. Because we and they deserved better--so I made it happen.

83 hours and 37 minutes. Not that he'd kept a count exactly. Just that his eidetic mind knew the exact moment Abbie had left this world, taking his heart with her and leaving him hollow, and his quick thoughts often calculated the duration he'd kept breathing without her. He'd spent the first 6 hours and 24 minutes working with Miss Jenny and Master Mills—and ultimately, ironically, his old pal the Horseman—to try to defeat Pandora and force her to release his Lieutenant, only to learn she'd actually expired. The dreams he'd had, sweet and aching moments with Abbie reflecting on their meet cute, time in the Archives, relaxing on their front porch where she'd tried to explain why he should let her go, would never suffice. He hadn't said the things he'd wanted—needed—to, hadn't explained how she'd helped save him: from roaming lost in this world, from imprisonment and institutionalization, from his son and the myriad monsters they'd encountered, from a wife who'd never truly been honest with him. And yes more important matters: from going mad, drowning in loneliness, feeling isolated, floating adrift in a world that still confounded him sometimes. And at times even saving him from himself. No, he hadn't said any of those things. And now he never could. Which is why he'd spent the next 49 hours and 52 minutes drowning his sorrows, his hollowed out chest, and his overactive mind in rivers of alcohol. He hadn't gotten smashed or wallowed in oblivion. No, he'd needed it to last, so he'd drunk just enough as the hours passed to keep the clawing ache in his empty ribcage from swallowing him whole. Miss Jenny had come by sometime around hour 32, banging on the door so hard he thought the roof would cave in. If he'd cared at all, he might feel concerned about her waking the neighbors in the dead of night, but he couldn't muster enough decency to. He'd ignored her at first, thinking she'd take a hint, or at least think him not home, but her insistent knocking continued. "I know you're in there, Crane." More banging. "Let me in there, or get out of my sister's house." It was a low blow, but one he deserved, for Miss Jenny had lost just as much as he had. If anyone had earned the right to drown her demons with liquor right next to him, it was her.

He'd stumbled to the door—okay, maybe he had gotten smashed, for he felt her knocking vibrate through his brain—bottle in hand, and unlocked it, turning the knob and walking away before he'd even seen her face. The slam of the door rattled the house but not him, and he shuffled back to his couch cushion, dropping down onto it, sipping from the bottle, and staring into the fireplace embers. Jenny said not a word, simply restarted the fire and plopped down on the other end of the couch, gazing at the vibrant blaze as it danced shadows around the room. After a few minutes, he threw out his arm towards her, bottle in hand, and she took it from him, downing a few gulps to try to silence the ache. She tried to return it to him, but he waved her off, waiting another 30 minutes before slowly rising—why did simply existing hurt so much?—and retrieving a few more bottles, which he'd purchased on his way home from that graveyard, from the stash in the kitchen. He placed them on the cushion between them, an open bar for them to sink into. Another few hours dragged by, and he felt more than heard Jenny crying at some point, the room changing from desperation, anger, and pain to grief and mourning, and he joined her, tears cascading down his face unabashedly. Their silence made their shared sorrow all the more palpable, exchanging emotions they couldn't speak aloud, the shroud around them sucking the whimpering breaths out of them as easily as it'd done to their partners. How could he have kept silent all this time, holding in and swallowing down the words that'd desperately begged for release? He'd tried to ignore them, the burgeoning affection, passion—now that it mattered no longer, he could admit it, cowardly fiend that he was—and love he'd harbored for Abbie since long before proprietary permitted it. He'd killed his wife for her, for Heaven's sake! And while he pretended mere friendship, ignored everything that screamed at him to make his feelings known, he hadn't hidden a damn thing. Miss Corinth, Betsy, even Pandora had seen his love for her. What an abominable fool he'd been. And now the one person who needed to know, who should've heard it from his own lips a thousand times over, never would. He let the tears burn down his face, though they washed none of his self-recriminations away. He deserved every horrid thought he had about himself. They ripped through his mind, scathing him, leaving him more raw and aching than he could ever remember feeling before. His entire body ached, joints, marrow, muscles, head, chest. And still he sipped on, needing the numb, refusing the full onslaught of trauma a clear mind would force him to face. He'd lost before, lost battles and comrades and his dignity. Lost loves and his homeland and best friend and life. His world and his wife and his son and the dreams he'd had and held and hoped for. Hell, he'd even lost Abbie a few times. But never where he couldn't get her back. Never where he couldn't find a way to follow, to find, to free her. And Master Corbin too. To lose both within hours of each other...they could shrivel into oblivion right now and it'd feel better than this. Master Joe had become his compatriot, his comrade in arms against the monsters and the daily dose of estrogen floating around the Archives—not that he'd trade the Mills sister or Agent Foster for ten regiments of men—not to mention a brother and friend. And Abbie...the ache in his chest seized him anew, and his shoulders hunched in against the black hole of despair threatening his breath. He couldn't begin to enumerate all the things she'd become to him. Partner, secret-keeper, fellow Witness, best friend, confidant, companion, roommate, voice of reason, inspiration, keeper of his heart. He thought he'd been in love once, had been in fact, but losing her had felt nothing like this. He'd sat in pain, suffered with the guilt that he'd not devoted enough to her, hadn't held tightly enough to a union that hadn't been what he'd agreed to, despaired that she'd died by his own hand in an effort to save Abbie. He'd had to—it hadn't even been a choice by then. Now, though, without Abbie...he didn't know how to keep breathing, wasn't sure he wanted to. Couldn't see beyond the bottom of the bottle. How could he walk through the world, the Archives, the town, this house, with memories of her around every corner, breathing down his neck, invading his mind, shredding the broken pieces of his heart into shavings? How could he solve the mysteries of the supernatural without her intellect, expertise, and help? What was one Witness to do without his other half, the best part of him, his anchor to this era? He couldn't sit still with himself and his maudlin ruminations another second. Without thinking, Ichabod hefted himself off the couch and shuffled down the hallway, making a pit stop before grabbing a box of tissues from the hall closet. He set them down on the cushion between them and took his seat again. Jenny had stayed until the sun was well into the sky, barely any words spoken but sharing the pain of their losses just the same. She'd stretched her hand out towards him, bridging the empty spaces around them with a simple reach of her arm across the cushion. He looked at her hand, open and alone in the expanse between them, and he slid his hand into hers, both of them holding on and squeezing tightly, attempting to convey all the things they couldn't speak with words. A moment later, she slipped quietly out of the house, the finality of the door clicking closed somehow louder than the slam she'd entered it with, sealing him into a solitude he'd never comprehend. More hours passed as he'd slept off the nasty hangover he wouldn't admit he had, as he sat in the bathtub letting the hot water steam over him until it cooled off and had him shivering, as he roamed aimlessly from room to room, gazing longingly at all the remnants of Agent Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills: her hairbrush, those heeled boots that still left her a foot shorter than him, the cappuccino she'd just started drinking again at his behest, her pea coat with the faux-fur hood that made her look adoringly like a diminutive Eskimo. Now, just over 84 hours had passed, and he still didn't have a sweet clue as to how to get through the next one, still sat in this one corner of the couch, only this time without a drink in his hand. Without so many things... Without a case to work, without his partner in crime and, he'd begun to hope, in life from here until the end, without a purpose, he might as well lay back down in that cave he'd emerged from and sleep for a few more centuries. "Crane." Her voice, soft and lilting and perfect, floated to him, a haunting sound he both craved and feared. He'd thought he might have imagined her during his indulgent consumption of alcohol, but no...it was here in his lucid moments that he'd conjured the sound of her, the voice he'd long to hear until the day he drew his last breath. "Crane." She sounded hesitantly happy, guardedly optimistic, a smile coming through her tone. Exactly how he heard her in his mind, same as he'd done when she'd been lost in the catacombs. He shook his head slightly to escape from her, not ready for conversations with her yet, everything about him still too raw to face all of the things he needed to apologize for, all of the things he'd never had the audacity to tell her when she'd stood by him, encouraged him, spurred him on. "Ichabod." She accompanied her insistent tone and the rare use of his first name with a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling up from the couch to face whatever ghoul had come to destroy his feeble, battered mind. And his jaw dropped. There she stood...Abbie. In one piece, small in stature but large in presence, beautiful and strong and...breathing. How could this be? "Abbie...?" His whispered question sounded more like a squeak, but he didn't dare try again, wasn't sure what devilry was at work here, arriving to destroy him when he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and apology, a small smile of hesitation and hope playing on her face. "Hi."

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striketotheheart · 2 months

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Helluva Boss OC

Here's my Helluva Boss original character, right under the cut:

Name: María T. Juana

Species: Imp

Languages: Spanish, English

She's a beautiful imp living in the Wrath circle, and she's the owner of a cantina (cantina Juana) in the middle of the desert, a place of comfort for lost and desperate souls.

People always tease her about her name, but she quickly explains that their parents have a great sense of humor, and that they just wanted to make a pun about Marijuana, since they own a small cultivation.

They sell it to the Sloth ring hospitals, since Cannabis it's also renowned for its medical and calming properties and in Hell it's not even seen as a real drug.

The truth about her name is that her family is part of a secret, illegal cult that worships the Virgin Mary and Jesus.

In fact, her second name is Trinidad, but no one aside from her parents actually know what the T stands for.

She's a good friend (probably the only friend) of Striker, giving him food and shelter whenever he comes around, and also tending to his injuries whenever he needs help (which is very rare, but lately it's been happening more often).

María met him one night, when he stopped to eat and drink something after cashing in his prize for killing his target.

María just served him the food and the tequila he ordered, and let him be.

Before he finished his meal, a group of sharks entered the cantina, loudly and rudely ordering some drinks.

Again, María just served them what they wanted in silence, but the sharks didn't like being ignored and started cat calling her, pulling her skirt or her sash.

María was used to drunken people being annoying and aggressive, and she knew how to defend herself; so when one of them grabbed her ass, she took a sharp machete from under the counter and cut his hand.

While the poor bastard howled in pain, his companions stood up and tried to grab her, but a gunshot through the heart of another shark, paralyzed them.

They all slowly turned towards the cowboy, who was standing and glaring at the group with a mixture of rage and annoyance.

"Leave the lady alone, she's tryin' to work."

When the sharks finally recognized him, they paled: trembling and promising to never return, they grabbed their dead pal and fled.

María and Striker looked at each other for the longest time before one of them spoke up.

"Nice knife you got there."

"Thank you. My father gave it to me as a birthday gift."

He smirked, then walked up to the counter to pay.

"It's on the house."

She said.

The cowboy shrugged and went towards the exit.

"That was the best chili con carne I've ever eaten, by the way. I think I'll come back again."

And with that, he left.

Since then, Striker would pass by the cantina at least once a month.

It became Striker's refuge, and María his silent confidante. No need for words, they just get each other.

Fun Facts:

- Her name is both a Marijuana pun and a reference to the city of Tijuana, a Mexican city known for the the Marijuana traffic organised by the local cartel.

- María is a very good cook, and Striker is always glad to eat at the cantina. One time he said her food "regenerates him", somehow.

Maria thought he was joking, but the cowboy was serious.

- She only speaks when it's needed, and has a no-nonsense attitude. That's two of the reasons Striker likes her and feels comfortable around her.

- María is probably the only creature in all of Hell who can talk to Striker like she's dealing with a stubborn child: he tends to pout and curse whenever he gets hurt or if he fails a job. María would have none of that.

- She has a secret cabinet in her bedroom's wall, with a small altar and a small statue of the Virgin Mary.

- María has never had any more issues with patrons since word about Striker's constant visits spread through the Wrath circle.

Yes, he's a wanted criminal, but no one has dared to actually hunt him down or even ask María about him. They know better.

- María likes taking care of Striker. Because he seems like he's been abandoned by everyone in this world and he never gets a chance to relax. She's not stupid: she perfectly knows what kind of "job" he has, but she also knows he hates when people pry.

She just does her best to make sure he's well fed and rested.

- Striker and María are good friends and intend to stay that way. At least theoretically.

Because there have been a few occasions where they couldn't help but...feel something for each other.

Maria does think that Striker is handsome, and Striker has yet to find a creature more beautiful and sensual than María.

Yet, they keep their confused feelings to themselves and go on like it's nothing.

#striker helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss oc #oc #striker

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hjbender · 4 years

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My question is why do highschool aus write Loki as a loner whose only source of socializing is his family and Thor's friends?Like Loki is a theatre kid diva who is probably part of the student council just so he can get out of trouble or look more innocent to the teachers.He's a literature and science geek.He's friends with Amora, Lorelei, Doom, Emma, is on okay terms with Wanda and maybe Tony,he's got beef with Strange.And he wouldn't mind staying home over partying but he's still down to club.

I think it’s because most authors tend to write MCU Loki instead of Comics Loki.

MCU Loki is depicted as a loner, a misfit, a social outcast who has never really fit in. Mistrusted by all and unliked by most, he’s completely on his own. He’s even distant from his parents. His only friends are Thor’s friends, and even they aren’t really his friends. He is basically every introverted, geeky high school student who has ever lived. (And someone to whom most of this fandom can relate in one way or another.)

The whole story of Thor (2011) could easily be adapted to fit a high school setting, which might be why these AUs are so prolific and typically involve the characters from the first two Thor films. You’ve already got the cliques, the jocks, the preps, the nerds, the social caste system, the strict parents at home, the achievement-chasing, the sibling rivalry, the frenemies dynamic—it’s literally every high school teen movie ever made, only set in outer space with Norse gods.

It’s much easier, I think, for fans to write Loki as he was depicted in canon—a loner/misfit/pariah/etc—than to try to write him as the opposite. Both authors and readers can envision him a bit more clearly. Plus, having a loner in your high school AU is almost a requirement, and if anyone’s got to be the loner, well, look no further than Loki. He checks off all the boxes.

(It’s worth mentioning that the geeky, misunderstood loner getting together with the jocky popular kid is also a classic and much-loved trope. Very often Thor fills this slot perfectly since he’s canonically shown to be... well, all of the above.)

Comics Loki, on the other hand, has quite a few friends, peers, rivals, fr/enemies and acquaintances he’s made throughout the arcs/years. It’s actually more of a realistic scenario, because none of us is an island. We all have connections somewhere.

While it’s safe to say that most Marvel Comics fans have seen the MCU films, not all MCU fans have read the comics. All they know is what they’ve seen on film. And this is totally fine. Some people have no interest in this particular medium. (Let’s be honest, it takes a lot of energy to keep up with all the various arcs and series and keep them all in order in your brain, not to mention on your bookshelf.)

But having more characters, storylines, and material to draw from is nice. When you’re a fan of both MCU Loki and Comics Loki, there is so much you can play with when it comes to creating transformative works. The sky really is the limit!

Speaking of which, I love the way you think, anon. It’d be really awesome and refreshing to see Teen Loki, Thespian Supreme, Chronic Abuser of the Student Council Disciplinary Code, Sonnet-reciting, Sagan-quoting nerd with a pack of pals who love him (and get him into as much trouble as he gets them into).

#ask bender #loki #meta #high school AU #comics loki #mcu loki #loki meta #AUs #hjbendergifs #lokiedit #marvel comics #mcu #thor #fandom #fanfiction #writing #thor and loki

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bee-kathony · 3 years

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positions | Eloise & Phillip

“At night, he pounced upon her like a man possessed. A starving man, really. His energy seemed endless, and he was always trying new things, positioning her in new ways, teasing and tormenting until she was screaming and begging, never sure whether it was for him to stop or keep going.” - TSPWL, pg. 286-287

Eloise had thought about what it would be like to be married ever since she was but a small girl of six. Her elder sister, Daphne would play with dolls in their nursery, standing them at a homemade alter, saying the wedding vows for bride and groom respectively. Her thoughts first focused on what she would wear on her wedding day, and then when she reached the ripe old age of nine, Eloise declared that she would not be getting married… ever!

After all, she had three older brothers, and one younger, but Gregory was only four years old. Boys were annoying, sticky, and very loud little pests that Eloise wanted nothing to do with. There was much to be said about Eloise’s own volume, as she was not known for being a polite and quiet young lady. On the contrary, she was often lumped in with the boys, always ready to play a sport with them or go riding with them if their mother allowed.

But she knew she would never marry, because there was no way she would ever share a room with a boy. That’s what she overheard her brother Anthony talking about one day… sharing a room with a girl. Well, he said bed, but Eloise knew he obviously meant sharing a room, with both people having their own beds of course.

When Eloise turned sixteen, she rethought her declaration of never marrying. Her older brothers did have very handsome friends after all. And by now, she understood that kissing a boy could be quite a thrilling experience.

And when her sister Daphne married the Duke of Hastings just two years later, Eloise couldn’t help but admire the way Simon looked at her sister, with love and warmth. Perhaps marrying wouldn’t but such a bad thing.

With one daughter married however, Violet Bridgerton turned her focus to the rest of her children, her attempts at matchmaking doubled… no, tripled.

Over the next several years, Eloise shrugged off any potential suitors, until one day no one was asking her to marry them. She’d only had a handful of proposals, but soon there were none. A spinster she would be, and she didn’t mind one bit. As long as she had her best friend Penelope by her side, they could grow old together. That was all she really needed.

That is until Penelope, traitor that she was, left her on her own to marry Colin, Eloise’s own brother for heaven’s sake! That sharp stabbing pain in Eloise’s chest hurt more than she cared to admit. Of course, she was thrilled for her friend, and her brother. If Penelope was going to marry anyone, then she was glad it was Colin.

But now… now Eloise was well and truly all alone.

Alone, but with a pen pal; one Sir Phillip Crane that she’d never actually met.

It was writing those letters to him that saved her. For more than a year they had traded correspondence. Until finally, Eloise worked up the courage to meet him face to face. It had been an awkward meeting, one that she should have prepared him for.

Eloise had not lasted two days at Romney Hall before her four brothers came bursting in the room, and demanding that Sir Phillip either marry their sister for ruining her reputation or meet the end of a barrel.

The choice was made before Eloise could open her mouth. She and Sir Phillip were to marry, and that is how Eloise, the girl who had thought of her marriage since she was six years old found herself married to a man she barely knew.

If she was honest with herself, he wasn’t necessarily a stranger. They had gotten to know each other through their letters, and during the few days they had been together before her brothers rudely rushed in. Eloise thought it was impossible to fall in love with a man one barely knew, but here she was, three days into her marriage and her heart belonged to him.

There was no one she would rather lie next to every evening, and wake up to every morning. Even his two meddlesome children had captured her heart. What Phillip, Oliver, and Amanda really needed was someone to simply care for them, and show them that they were unconditionally loved, and Eloise thought herself up to the challenge.

Besides, her new husband was ravenous in the bedroom. His appetite knew no bounds, and Eloise found herself counting down the hours until they were joined in bed together at the end of a long day.

She was preparing for bed now, brushing her hair and splashing cold water on her face, when she heard Phillip’s steps pacing outside of the door. He had grown more impatient as the days went by, the time he allowed her for her toilette dwindling from twenty to five minutes.

Deciding that he had waited long enough, and honestly so had she, Eloise stood and opened the door. She was greeted by a large man, who picked her up at her waist and twirled her around in circles. Her feet lifted off the ground and she swung around, holding on for dear life, her arms hooked around his neck.

“Phillip!” She squealed, her stomach flying.

His lips met her neck, and she could feel him smiling against her skin. In the days since their marriage, Eloise had seen him smile more than all their time spent together.

“Please!” She laughed, clinging onto him. “I’m getting dizzy!”

Phillip spun her around one more time before gently depositing her onto the floor. Her head was spinning, and it continued to spin as Phillip crushed his lips to hers.

“What took you so long in there?” Phillip sighed, his hands settling on her waist.

��I was but a few minutes,” Eloise swiped at his chest playfully. “You are in need in a lesson on patience, husband.”

Husband. Oh how she loved to say that word.

“I cannot have patience when all I can think about is ridding you of your nightgown,” Phillip said softly, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her neck, all while his hands moved to cup and squeeze her bottom.

Since Eloise was but a virgin only four days ago, she allowed Phillip to take lead in the bedroom… for now. Already she had grown more confident, but she was still tentative in take matters into her own hands, literally speaking.

Besides, Phillip worked with his hands in his greenhouse all day, he was a man that knew what to do with them. He was surprisingly strong, his muscles lean and as he lifted her onto the bed, it seemed effortless.

Eloise kissed him fiercely, her heart pounding for what would come next.

They had made love six times already, but still she craved more. She craved to touch him, and see him, and memorize every bump and crevice on his body. She wanted to count every strand of hair on his head, and give them all names. Oh, she was a fool in love, that was positive.

Years ago, Francesca and Eloise had paid one of their house maids, Annie Mavel, to tell them what actually occurred in a marriage bed. So far Eloise had performed all of the acts Annie had spoken of, but also many she had not.

Eloise had never dreamed of so many different positions one could twist your body into to have sex. She thought the woman would simply lie down on the bed, and the man would cover her. They’d done that on their first night together, as Phillip said it would hurt for her first experience. But as soon as she assured him that it didn’t hurt anymore, Phillip had moved and positioned her body into all sorts of impossible ways.

At one point during their love making, Eloise sat atop him, her legs straddling him as she taken him fully inside of her. Just thinking about it now made her wet between her legs, so wet that she could smell her own arousal.

“What did you accomplish today in that greenhouse of yours?” Eloise asked as he climbed onto the bed.

“I touched plants,” Phillip stroked her arm from shoulder to wrist. “I cut flowers.” He twined their hands together. “I wrote in my journal.”

“Sounds very boring to me,” Eloise joked, moving to sit on her knees before him.

“It was,” he leaned in to kiss her. “My mind cannot focus on anything these days when all I want is to have you under me, on top of me,” he placed a wet kiss to her ear. “Anyway that I can have you, Eloise.”

“Then take me,” she closed her eyes, shuttering at the sensation of his touch.

This time, he did not push her to lie back, but he reached for her nightgown, pushing the sleeves down until they fell off her arms, exposing her breasts. Phillip’s eyes lingered on her already hard nipples a moment or two before he quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Then his strong hands gathered the delicate material at her waist and lifted it above her head, leaving her naked before him.

“Come here,” he said softly, reaching for her hands.

Phillip sat in front of her, both of his legs spread wide. He took her hands and brought her closer, and as she sat in front of him, he brought one of his legs to rest over hers. They were now completely twisted together, and there was no way to know where one began and the other ended.

Face to face, Phillip trailed one hand along her back, his fingers softly stroking. Eloise could feel the calluses on his hands, the rough bits of skin he had earned from handling tools and tough greenery. Shivering, she brought both hands up to his face, letting her fingers explore the planes of his face.

Her breath hitched as he scooted closer, his heavy cock now resting against her thigh. Eloise could sit like this for hours, simply touching him and staring into his eyes. But her belly burned, and her body ached for him to be inside her.

Phillip reached between their bodies and took hold of his cock, stroking it one, two, three times before guiding it along her cleft. She was wet, and he slid along her opening, coating the head of his cock with her arousal.

“Lift up your hips,” Phillip instructed, licking his lips. He helped her by grabbing her bottom and lifting her, angling her until she had to place one hand behind her for leverage.

Eloise looked down at the place of their joining, her mouth open as she watched him enter her. Like butter takes a hot knife, he disappeared into her, sinking deeply. Their joint sighs mingled in the air between them.

“You feel heavenly,” Phillip squeezed her bottom, pushing her onto him, and urging her to move.

Pushing back against the bed, she began to rock her hips, sliding back and forth on his cock.

As much as she loved to talk, Eloise was often struck speechless as they made love. Words left her and she was overcome with emotions she could not describe. Instead, she showed him how he made her feel.

“Faster, please,” Eloise begged, reaching for his shoulder and pulling him closer. She claimed his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. Flicking her tongue against his, Eloise moaned.

Both his hands grabbed her hips, helping to push her against him. With every snap, every twist, Eloise felt more of herself becoming one with him.

“Phillip,” Eloise cried out, burying her face into his neck.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she knew she would never be as close to someone as she was with him, not only physically but spiritually.

“I need you, Eloise,” he kissed her shoulder sloppily, evidence of his own peak approaching. “I need you more than air,” he twisted his hand into her hair, bringing her face to his. “I need you now!”

Tears sprang to her eyes as she thrust against him, bouncing on his cock. She wanted to take him deeper, to allow him entrance into every hidden spot.

“Oh!”

Eloise clutched him, hands beginning to shake as waves of pleasure took over her body. She arched against him, and as she squeezed around him, she felt him explode inside of her. Phillip cradled her body against his, gently rocking back and forth.

“I need you,” he kept repeating softly, again and again as he stroked her hair.

Yes, he needed her, but not as much as Eloise needed him.

Later that night, after they had unwound themselves from one another, Eloise lay with her back against his chest. He had one arm tightly wrapped around her, his hand cupping her breast. She found this comforting, and pleasant. While they were passionate in bed, they were also gentle and tender.

“Do you really have to work in the greenhouse tomorrow?” Eloise asked to the dark, letting her hand rest upon his.

She felt him move against her, settling his chin on her head.

“I guess there is no rush,” he said.

“It is our honeymoon after all,” she smiled, even though he could not see. “Aren’t we supposed to lock ourselves in this room and not come out for a week?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he laughed. “However, I’m not sure Oliver or Amanda would allow that. They’re much to taken with you.”

Eloise scoffed. “I’m sure they are just plotting their next prank.”

“True,” Phillip couldn’t help but laugh. “But they do care for you. More than they would let you believe.”

“I know they do,” Eloise smiled, pulling his arm tighter. “And I care for them a great deal. Just as much as I care for you.”

Phillip was silent for a moment.

“You care for me the same amount as them?” His hand began to squeeze her breast gently.

Eloise bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Well, I guess you can say that I care for you a great deal more. In a different way of course. The feelings for you are… stronger.”

She did not want to be the first to say those three words… I love you.

While she felt them with all of her being for this man, she needed to give him time. He cared for her deeply, that much was plain. Phillip’s happiness radiated off of him, and anyone nearby was struck blind by its brightness.

“I feel the same for you,” Phillip said softly and her heart squeezed.

His fingers moved along the swell of her breast, then circled around her areola. She held her breath in anticipation as he pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

Eloise shifted, parting her legs as he quickly slid his leg between hers to hold her open. Since they had entered their bedchamber, she had not stopped being aroused. One look from him sent her into a burning inferno of wobbly knees and insides.

Phillip wasted no time in sliding his cock inside of her, but he held still, content to simply fill her.

His fingers did not stop moving on her nipple, gently flicking and bringing it to attention. Soft moans left her lips as he slowly bucked his hips. He was moving slow on purpose, dragging out her pleasure, torturing her.

“Phillip,” she tried to press back against him, but his other hand steadied her hip, and he continued his slow and steady pace.

He brought her to the edge with his fingers tweaking her nipple, his tongue sucking on her skin and his cock between her legs.

With a small cry, Phillip emptied his seed for the second time that night, and once he pulled out, he turned her to face his chest.

“Let’s stay in bed all day tomorrow,” he kissed her forehead. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand on my own two feet after this.”

“Neither will I,” she laughed quietly and nuzzled against his warm embrace.

Eloise drifted to sleep, sated and feeling perfectly content. Marriage, she thought, suited her quite well after all. Phillip… suited her. He suited her more than she had ever allowed herself to dream.

#bridgerton #eloise x phillip #eloise bridgerton #phillip crane #to sir phillip with love #philloise #i love THEMMMMM #my fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfic

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takuyakistall · 4 years

Text

letters. | floyd leech

@loolabunnbai

length: 4.5k words

Taku's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait ! I enjoyed making this, fufu~

Huffing, you enclosed your letter inside the white envelope- 'To Jade Leech' you wrote, already feeling giddy and excited over his reply. The letter contained a long rant about your shared interest- mountains, the both of you exchanged letters enough to be called pen pals. It all started when you visited NRC to visit your friend who was in Octavinelle, getting in as an outsider wasn't easy- so you had to sneak in. You were unfortunate enough to run into him while sneaking in, all dressed up in hiking clothing. You were a mountain lover- just like him and you just couldn't help but get distracted. Commenting about his gear and asking him about where he was heading to, though Jade didn't let your questions divert his attention from the fact that you, an outsider, was sneaking into Night Raven College.

He almost exposed you to the school staff if it were not for the 'mushroom lover' badge on his bag and you acting quickly enough to mention a hidden cave you discovered a day ago- ever since that day, the both of you became pen pals and often went hiking together. That was three months ago; you just sent another letter to him about how you wanted to visit his school to finally meet his twin brother and the octopus he keeps on talking about in his letters. You just hoped that he could find a way for you to go in, after all- you did say that you were bringing in a rare specimen of fungi if that ever happened.

Jade had a small smile on his face as he opened the door to his shared room with Floyd, a letter in hand. Floyd perked up when he heard the doorknob turn, his twin brother having a gleeful expression on his face and his gaze fell on the letter in Jade's gloved hands. "Ne, Jade~ Is that another letter from your mountain buddy? You look really happy~" Floyd asked in his usual carefree tone, he'd been curious about his twin brother's pen pal ever since the very first letter arrived. "Ee, Floyd. It seems like they sent me another letter, fufu~" Jade neatly opened the letter, his hands scrambling to see the contents of the envelope. He unfolded it and skimmed the whole thing first before taking it all in.

His eyes fell on the words 'rare fungi' and he couldn't help but pay more attention to that part more than anything else. Floyd approached Jade from behind, wrapping an arm around his brother's neck to get a closer look at the letter. "Hehe~ What's this? Your little mountain buddy wants to visit NRC and meet me and Azul?" Floyd giggled, suddenly feeling excited about this whole situation. He was curious about this mountain buddy and it seemed like he was about to meet them. After all, Jade was willing to do anything to get his hands on those rare specimens. Letting in a guest into their school was nothing but a menial task to be completed for his mushrooms.

"Uwah~! So this is what it looks like inside your dorm!" You stared in awe at the aquarium just outside the Mostro Lounge, slowly taking in the sight as Jade guided you inside. You went inside the lounge, the jazz music, and the voices of the customers filling in your sense of hearing. Your eyes darted around, the scent of various dishes overwhelmed you as you walked further into the lounge. You continued to follow Jade, no questions asked, you were too busy taking everything in. Jade simply hummed in delight when he glanced at your awed expression.

Both of you came to a stop in front of a door and your eyes started to sparkle, were you going to meet the others now? You sucked in a breath, hyping yourself up for an energetic greeting. However when Jade opened the door for you, like a gentleman, you suddenly got tackled by someone- making you lose your balance and fall on your back. "Eh~? You're not Jade." You stared at the culprit, he looked exactly like Jade just with droopy eyes and the darker strand of hair was on the other side- opposite to Jade.

Jade chuckled, looking down at the both of you- that little…! Did he know about this? Is that why he let you go in first? The culprit was atop of you, his arms hung loosely around your neck. It seems like he was supposed to give Jade a hug, though you caught it in place of him. The culprit let out a dry sigh, getting off you as Jade helped you up, muttering a small apology for putting you in the spot. Though you doubt that he really meant it, he had that same smile on his face after all.

"Floyd! What did I tell you about doing that?" Another figure emerged from the door, he had purple hair and glasses- shorter than the other two. Floyd just let out a sigh, "Ahh~ I get it, I get it. No need to repeat it the second time." He whined, raising his arm up to sling it around Jade's neck. "Ne, Jade~ who's the little shrimp you got there?" Before Jade could answer his question, the bespectacled man quickly interfered with the conversation- "(Y/N) (L/N), correct? I'm Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle's Dorm Leader." He had this suspicious aura around him, something about his smile was off- you knew it deep inside your guts. "I've heard a lot about you from Jade." He added and you glanced at Jade- wondering about how much he's told them about you. You nodded in response to Azul.

"You're correct. That's my name," and you glanced at Floyd who was next to Jade. "and may I know the name of the one who tackled me?" Azul's smile never faltered, "That's Jade's twin brother, Floyd Leech. I'm terribly sorry for what he did earlier, he tends to be quite a handful."

You just smiled reluctantly, "A-Ah! No, it's okay." You felt a pair of eyes scanning you up and down, you turned around to see that it was Floyd- lazily leaning on Jade with an arm wrapped around his neck. You suddenly felt conscious, very conscious and you didn't like it one bit. Floyd was giving off bad vibes and you immediately knew that you should try to avoid him. "Then, shall we go inside for some tea-" Azul's invitation was cut off. "Dorm Leader Azul!" It was a fellow dorm member. Azul raised his eyebrows, signalling the random man to go on. "Th-This is bad! Someone is trying to cause a ruckus at the entrance!"

Azul could only let out a sigh, Jade chuckled while Floyd didn't look even the least interested. "Jade, Floyd. Come with me, let's take care of this matter." Jade put a hand to his chest, "Understood." While Floyd didn't even bother replying properly- "Ehh~ I'm not in the mood." Azul's grip on his cane tightened as he let out another sigh, 'It's one of his mood swings again, oh well.' he thought.

"Very well. Jade, let's handle this by ourselves. Floyd, keep Jade's guest company while we're away." Floyd didn't respond and you were just dumbfounded. Ruckus? You wondered what that might be but- you decided that it wasn't important for the time being. All you know is that you entered the room- that looked like an office, with the person that you just swore to avoid. Life was sure treating you well. You sat down on the velvet couch, not knowing what to do as you watched Floyd plop down across you on the other couch. Well, this was a bit awkward. The silence remained for a few minutes.

"Hey Shrimpy~?" Shrimpy? Was that your new name now? You furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance.

"Excuse me, I have a na-"

"Eh~ whatever. Tell me, what's your relationship with Jade~?"

What was up with this guy!? He cut you off mid-sentence and didn't even bother apologizing. You clenched your fists, trying to keep your smile and keep calm in front of Floyd. Through gritted teeth, "That's none of your business." Floyd stared at you menacingly, you tensed up. He suddenly felt dangerous to you. He stood up from the couch, walking towards you as you suddenly back up- sliding further along the couch as Floyd kept on getting closer. "What do you think you're doing?"

Floyd didn't answer, he just continued walking towards you until he was only inches away from your face. "What did you say to me?" He asked you in a threatening tone- his mismatched eyes looking right towards your own. He took a hold of your wrist, squeezing it tightly and you wince- it hurts. Fear was rising inside of you and you couldn't help but tremble a bit, you didn't answer his question. He squeezed your wrist even tighter, you flinched. Before you could speak up, the door swung open- revealing Azul and Jade. Azul's eyes widened in surprise "Floyd! What do you think you're doing?"

With a click of his tongue, Floyd let go of your wrist and backed away- scratching the back of his head in frustration. Jade kept a straight face, he approached you and gently took a hold of the wrist Floyd took hostage. There was an evident red mark around it- shows how hard Floyd squeezed it. It was painful- yes, painful enough to the brink of tears. It felt like your wrist was about to snap, how was Floyd strong enough to be able to do that? Jade just let out a sigh and stood up to grab the first aid kit placed on a nearby shelf. He went back to you, treating your wrist and wrapping a bandage around it. "I apologize for my brother's behaviour. I shouldn't have left you alone with him." He actually looked regretful, it's rare for him to show such expression. "No, don't apologize. It isn't your fault." You shook your head and averted your gaze to Floyd instead, you lowered your voice and whispered to Jade. "It's him who should be apologizing."

That concluded your first visit.

The second visit was even more of a mess than the last- you thought that Floyd would be still as troublesome as the last time you saw him. However when you opened the door to the VIP room, where Jade told you to meet them, you didn't expect to see Floyd alone. He was leaning against the desk, his hands in his pockets. When he heard the doorknob turn, his head immediately snapped towards the door. He expected you, Jade and Azul cornered him to apologize- and that was he was going to do.

You froze, the unpleasant memories you had with him from the last visit suddenly flooding back. You were very tempted to slam the door just to turn around and run away. However you decided against it- you steeled yourself and entered the room, you didn't sit anywhere and just stood up. You felt like Floyd was going to try something and you were preparing yourself just in case you needed to run away. Floyd took a step closer to you, you took a step back. He took another step closer, and you took another step back- you were having none of this. The cycle continued on for about two more times before Floyd groaned, "Argh! Can't you just stay still for a moment!?" He told you before running towards you- you shrieked and ran away, going in circles around the room. It was a mouse and cat chase, and you definitely did not enjoy it one bit! You let out a painful cry when you suddenly hit your knee against the corner of the couch- you fell down on one knee and was unable to escape Floyd any longer. "Ah~ finally." He had this grin on his face, you could tell that he was about to do something.

He towered over your kneeling figure and you immediately got intimidated- Oh god, what was he going to do now? You didn't really expect his next words. "I'm sorry." He said in a normal tone, his gaze not meeting yours as he placed his hands in his pockets once again. Were you hearing that right? Floyd was apologizing? It shocked you to the core but the apology wasn't unwelcomed- you were willing to forgive him for last time. You were about to, until- "Jade told me to say sorry or else we're having mushrooms for a week." Ah, you should've expected this. Jade forced him to apologize, not surprising but- it's still very disappointing. You rubbed your knee as you stood up wobbly, an unnatural smile plastered on your face. "I see… so Jade forced you to apologize." You clenched your fists tightly in anger, "It seems like we won't be getting along that well, Floyd." You walked towards the door, swinging it open and ran outside- you heard no protests from Floyd.

"Argh! That stupid Floyd! I knew that we weren't suited well for each other but I didn't know he was going to be this bad!" You cried out, kicking over an empty can of juice you found by the hallway. It rolled all the way to the other side of the courtyard, you jogged over to retrieve it but you gasped when you saw where the can hit. It hit someone's eye, a bruise slowly forming around the victim's eye- he suddenly started to bark out orders to the men who were with him. "Grr-! Find out who did this! We'll make 'em pay for what they did!" The other men around him just grunted in response, taking out their magic pens- ready to attack. You felt your pulse quicken, you quickly hid behind the shrub that was conveniently placed in front of you.

You heard footsteps approach you and you sucked in a breath when someone grabbed your shoulder- "Aha! You're the culprit, aren't ya?" Judging from the colour of his armband- the one who caught you was from Savanaclaw. You didn't say anything and stared at the man, you didn't have your pen with you and you weren't ready to have a fistfight with almost 5 people with no help whatsoever. "Hey, answer me." He poked your shoulder harshly, you still stayed silent. The constant poking suddenly got stronger and stronger until it was a full-on shoving now, you stumbled back- falling on your bottom. You couldn't resist the urge to scream at the man now- "Hey-!!"

"Hey." A voice cut you off, you took a moment to glance at the person who just called out- it was Floyd. He had a smile plastered on his face as he suddenly started stretching his arms, "Don't go bullying poor Shrimpy over there~ Why don't you play with me instead?" The man who caught you froze in place, his expression perfectly capturing the essence of his fear. He scrambled away almost immediately, tripping over himself as he escaped. Floyd clicked his tongue, "Chicken." before helping you up. The man was scared away when Floyd appeared, what was up with that? Did Floyd have a bad reputation or something? If he did, it wouldn't be surprising in the least- not after your unpleasant first encounter with him. "Hey Shrimpy, are you okay?" The concern lacing his voice was surprising, though your thoughts didn't linger on that for too long when you questioned him about why he was here.

"I followed you." In a nonchalant tone, Floyd shrugged. You massage your temples as you tell yourself 'I should've expected this.' Though a huge part of you was thankful for his presence- it was a lifesaver. Had it not been for his actions, you would've probably ended up with a few bruises from the Savanaclaw student. Floyd stared at you, "Why didn't you fight back?" The serious tone of his voice caught you off guard, he was curious- and for once, you answered his question. "Do you think I could handle all of them if I picked a fight?" Sarcasm laced your voice as you dusted off the dirt on your clothes, fixing your hair in the process. "Besides, it's not like I wouldn't fight back. I was just about to explode before you made your grand appearance." You trailed off, aggressively looking away from Floyd as you continued. "Thanks for that, by the way. I appreciate it."

Floyd stared at you for a second or two before bursting into laughter, a smile on his face. You felt your face burn up from embarrassment and you couldn't help but walk away- though Floyd didn't allow you to. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you towards him, swinging his arm around your neck- just like how he usually does with Jade. He leaned down to whisper to your ear, "Heh~ you're pretty interesting. I like you~" Before letting you go and going on his own way, leaving you as a flustered mess. You buried your face in your palms as various thoughts haunted your mind- "Ahhh, what does he mean by that?" Perhaps Floyd wasn't so bad after all. You were once again willing to get to know him better.

You composed yourself from your flustered state, fanning your face with your hand as you walked away from the courtyard. It was time for you to go back home- and you already knew deep inside that your next visit wasn't going to be peaceful as well. You did manage to catch the interest of Jade's twin brother after all, and a small part of you didn't really mind and looked forward to it. Ugh, what was wrong with you today?

Your head was filled with thoughts about Floyd- about what he did and what he said. Hell! He even started sending you letters in the past few weeks, his handwriting looked sloppy but it was still readable. He often talks about how his day goes in his letters and mentions a lot of unknown people to you such as 'goldfish' or 'crab'. Even though you didn't know of the people he's talking about, you enjoyed reading his letters just as much as you enjoy reading Jade's. Though lately, you found yourself looking forward to Floyd's letters more than Jade's- and that already says a lot. Your replies to his letters were often about your day too- and some small comments about his day and some of the questionable actions he did (according to his letter). You could still remember his first letter.

Shrimpy~!

It suddenly became boring here when you left, you should've stayed longer. Ah~ I completely forgot about squeezing you. I'll make sure to do it the next time you come back- speaking of that, hey~ come back soon m'kay? Goldfish shouted at me when I tried to squeeze him and even compared me to Jade, can't I just squeeze him? There's also Crab-kun running away from me again~ it's so funny to see his panicked expression hahahaha!

- Floyd <3

The nonsense contained in his letter and the sloppy handwriting made it hard for you to like it at first, some letters were flat out unreadable while some were really neat and fancy- you guessed that it was depending on his mood. The playfulness seeping through his letters got to you and you found yourself giggling at them, making small comments as you read through his letters. Floyd had a small habit of adding a lot of doodles in his letters- a goldfish, an eel, an emoticon, or whatever. He used it often and it was contagious. You started doodling in your letters more, sometimes adding a bit of colour if you felt creative and honestly, Floyd wasn't such a bad pen pal to have.

The exchange went on for about three or four months until Floyd suddenly mentioned something in his letters- he whined about how he wanted to see you. You were embarrassed, your heart rate going faster by the second and you couldn't help but just let out a muffled squeal. Floyd wanted to see you? Ah-!! You couldn't believe that you developed feelings of attachment and infatuation for him, especially because of your first meeting- it wasn't exactly pleasant. Though love truly is mysterious if you ended up liking him more than just a friend. You quickly wrote a response letter saying how your next visit was in a week or so and even added a small note at the bottom about how you wanted to see him too. It was a bold move, and you really didn't mind it if Floyd gets the message. In fact- you'd be elated if he did. Now visiting NRC was the only thing occupying your mind- you were excited.

"Jade~! Have you seen Shrimpy's letter? Shrimpy is coming over soon!" Floyd waved the letter in front of Jade's face, looking happier than he ever was this week. Jade just gently pushed the letter away from his face, "I know. Exciting, isn't it?" Jade was excited too, he wasn't just as excited as Floyd was. You mentioned that you found another cave near a mountain and asked Jade out on another mountain date to look for mushrooms. Jade was ready to talk to you for hours and he will do it. Nobody but you shared the same passion he held for mountains and mushrooms, that's why you were special to Jade. "Fufu~"

Floyd seemed to misunderstand a teeny tiny thing about the two of you- ever since your first meeting with him, he hasn't exactly gotten a clear answer as to what kind of relationship you held with Jade. So he just assumed that Jade liked you and you liked him back- he assumed that you were lovers because no one bothered to answer his question. Though after your second visit to NRC, he decided that he didn't care if you liked Jade or not- he was interested in you and he was about to whisk you away from Jade if he wanted to. Floyd didn't particularly care if Jade liked you or not- he was the more selfish one out of the two and it shows. Even if Jade liked you, there was no way in hell that he's just going to be stopped just because of that. This is Floyd we're talking about after all.

Floyd just grumbled under his breath as he lied down on his bed, reading your letter once more before flushing red when he finally saw your small note at the bottom. You wanted to see… him? Floyd couldn't help but grin, suddenly bursting with energy as he rolled on his bed- "Shrimpy is so cute~!"

Floyd didn't really think this through. He was overcome with jealousy when he saw Jade place a kiss on the back of your hand and how flustered you looked when he did that. He clenched his fist tightly as he walked away from the scene, "Tch." You saw him walk away in the corner of your eyes and you quickly followed suit. You caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder "Hey-" "Let go of me." The venom laced in his voice was strong enough to make you flinch in fear and immediately let go of his shoulder when you saw that look in his eye. It reminded you of your first meeting, he had the very same look in his eyes and that made your heart feel like it was being squeezed.

In anger, you stomped away to the courtyard once again. Why was he acting like that again!? Ugh, you didn't even know what you did wrong so why…? Numerous questions popped up inside your head as you tried your best to stay calm, "Why in the world did I like him in the first place…?" You muttered under your breath, calling yourself an idiot for falling for someone as problematic as him. It's only been a few months, your only source of interaction during those months were letters- you felt like absolute crap. You came all this way and he just got mad at you for unknown reasons.

You sat on a wooden bench placed near a pillar and wallowed in your own sadness as you tried to think of the reason why he got mad- Floyd was unpredictable, it made it even harder for you to pinpoint the exact reason. You were lost in your own thoughts when you felt a tap on your shoulder, jumping at the sudden contact. "Ah-!!" You almost screamed had it not been for the fact that the person covered your mouth with their hand.

You wanted to look at the one who was responsible for this but you couldn't- so you resorted into biting the perp's hand and was shocked when you heard the scream. "FLOYD!?" You wanted to apologize but it was his fault for using such suspicious methods! Could you really be blamed for biting his hand? "Shrimpy you-!" Floyd clutched the hand close to his chest, it was painful to say the least. Instead of lashing out at you, Floyd just let out a tired sigh and said, "Argh, nevermind that. Shrimpy, could you come closer for a second~?" His usual sing-song voice was back when he asked you to come closer- you raised an eyebrow in suspicion but you reluctantly agreed and walked closer.

You let out a small yelp when Floyd suddenly pulled you towards him, crashing his lips against yours. It started out rough, his sharp teeth grazing your lips as you tasted the metallic taste of blood. Good Lord, you didn't expect this- but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Then the kiss suddenly turned gentle, Floyd calming down and just savouring the feeling of his own lips against yours. You pulled back, gasping as you desperately got oxygen back into your system. Your whole face was hot and dozens of things were flashing in your mind. Though Floyd's next words put an end to them all.

"I don't care if you like Jade, I like you and I'm stealing you away from him if I need to."

Your eyes widened from the shock, everything was slowly sinking in. The kiss, his confession- Hell! You were about to explode. Good riddance, Floyd really thought that there was something between you and Jade. Floyd liked you and that what mattered the most to you right now- you were racking your brain up for a response. "First of all- there's nothing going on between me and your brother. We're just really good friends. And secondly-" You grabbed his tie and pulled on it, making Floyd crane over his neck to look at you at such a small distance away. "I like you too."

おまけ！

"Wait a minute! So the reason you stormed off was because....?" You tilted your head in confusion as you tried to rack your brain up for the answer. Floyd flushed slightly, ruffling his own hair as he averted his eyes somewhere else. "It's nothing."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst writing #fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #your takoyaki has been served!#long post #octavinelle #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd #twisted wonderland floyd #twst floyd #floyd x reader #oneshot #damn this was rlly fun to write #i hope he's not too ooc-?#twst x reader #letter

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