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kysuguru · 9 months

Text

first name basis. i think. — geto suguru x fem!reader

synopsis : shoko and utahime encourage you to say geto’s first name. you feel as if your heart is in your throat.

includes / cw : nothing

all mine masterlist

a / n : geto drabble for my “all mine” series while i try to answer a certain solo mission ask

“Try saying his name!” Shoko pushes.

“Geto-san.” you say easily. Shoko groans.

“No! His given name! Say it! It’ll be good practice won’t it?”

Having no social cues whatsoever, you’re ignorant to her and Utahime’s mischievous stunt.

When you quirk a brow, unsure, Utahime is quick to reassure you. “Don’t worry! It really is just practice. You and that bastard are close right? He might let you say his first name.” By the end of her sentence, her lips are curled into a sly grin (you’re so used to her calling Suguru and satoru degrading names that it doesn’t even phase you anymore). She really is getting a kick out of this.

“Saying Geto-san’s given name? T-That is a really big privilege, I can’t even begin to imagine-”

Shoko and Utahime share a glance.

“Well think of it hypothetically then!” Shoko said, as her and Utahime decided to ignore how low you thought of yourself in Suguru’s perspective — if only you knew.

Just as your tongue moves to spell his name, footsteps approach.

All of you turn to see a familiar serene smile. It’s Suguru approaching with a bag in his hand, the sun hitting him at the perfect angle — as if it was created to shine on him. You stare unabashedly.

“Welcome back, Geto-san!” You exclaim happily, eyes bright. his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. You’re stunned into stillness. I love when he smiles like that… Geto-san is really handsome.

“This is the perfect opportunity! Practice it on him!” Utahime pushes you forward and Shoko starts to think that her counterpart is enjoying this a bit too much.

Before you can gather what’s happening, you stumble. Suguru is quick to grab your arm and stand you upright.

“Careful there.” His voice is soft, and you’re hyper aware of the harsh beating in your chest. So close. Is all you can think.

“What is it you need to practice?” He asks, eyes flitting between you three girls. You sweat. You occasionally forgot how good Suguru’s hearing was. Suddenly the ground has more details than it did a few moments ago.

“Oh nothing much, just saying your name is all.”

Suguru’s brows knit.

“I’m confused. She says my name all of the time?”

“Suguru? or Geto?” Shoko asks. Utahime and her have matching sly grins and Suguru briefly wonders if the dread he feels is familiar to the both of them when him and Satoru mess around.

“C’mon, [Name]! Say it!” Utahime drags out her words in anticipation. Both Shoko and Suguru have concluded that she has a sadistic side, if your obvious fluster was anything to go by.

You look up, and meet his gaze. You’re so focused on his dark murky eyes that you miss the small flush of pink that flits across his cheeks at your intense stare.

“Welcome back, Sss….” You blink, furrowing your brows close together as your expression contorts. “Sugu…”

Suguru waits in anticipation, pupils wide and focused on only you. If you were any bit aware of his gaze outside of your dilemma, it would be almost overwhelming.

“W-Welcome back, Geto-san!” You settle with, breaking eye contact immediately as your cheeks deflate from the amount of air they were holding.

Suguru faintly catches the two in the back groan and share an exasperated look before he’s reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “You said that already.” he replies, voice sheepish.

Mission failed.

my taglist is meant for the main story only sorry… it seems like a lot of work for there to be a tag list on my drabbles… sigh

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thetarsier · 11 months

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heyyy!! i hope you’re well!! i was hoping you could write a jealous!aaron x reader where she’s basically getting hit on while she’s at girls night and maybe penelope snaps a picture of her and the guy and sends it to the BAU gc and aaron basically drives over and suprises you because he was jealous

a/n: hi! thank you for the request, lovely, i was so excited to write this one :)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: drinking, asshole-type men (yes that's a warning)

<3: aaron hotchner x fem!reader, established relationship

Girls' night always - always - ended in one of your own getting hit on. Usually, it was JJ, but Emily fielded her fair share of creepy drunk men. Penelope tended to go after men herself, and you were the quiet one that laughed along with the others at the strange men eyeing them up. Rarely were you ever the target of their affections.

It was something that the other girls constantly tried to change, with JJ repeatedly pointing you out to the men who came over to the table (which almost always ended in you ducking away to the bathroom until the guy got the hint). They didn’t know that you were more than content being an observer of their conversations, happy to celebrate the numbers Emily and Penelope received and laugh over the rejections of the men that came after JJ.

They didn’t know, because they all still thought that you were single. You’d never told them otherwise, and that was mostly because of who you were currently dating: Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

It was a connection that blossomed over the many years of you being at the BAU, not the same as some rushed, half-assed attempt to score during a night out. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were trying to take it slow out of the eyes of your coworkers. It’d worked for almost two years now with only a few minor slip-ups that were easy to explain away to the people who’d witnessed them.

Not Rossi, however. Rossi had you two figured out almost as soon as you started to take things seriously, and now he acted as your protector. He changed subjects, scolded, and made those who questioned you or Aaron seem stupid. He was the perfect person to have as a secret keeper, mostly because he didn’t have it in him to care that much.

And he’d done a beautiful job, too. It was a running joke on the BAU group chat that Penelope’s mission on your nights out was to find you someone to go home with. This was why, despite your usual invisibility, when a guy approached you at the bar, you were left alone with him, your girlfriends disappearing into the crowd around you.

“-And so, yeah, I would say I’m self-made. I mean, my dad did lend me most of the money I used to actually start up, and all of my customers came from the family company, too, but I run the place, you know?” The guy interrupted his ramblings to take a sip from his beer, and you continued your nodding.

You were used to listening to fast ramblings, thanks to Spencer, but usually his monologues were interesting, and you could follow them with relative fascination. This guy was just… awful. At storytelling, and being a good conversationalist in general.

“He hasn’t stopped talking this whole time,” JJ observed from their table, shaking her head, “Can’t imagine he’s particularly decent.”

“She hasn’t walked away, yet, though,” Emily shrugged, “Maybe he’s like Reid?”

“Does he look like Reid?” Penelope pulled her phone out of her bag, “Doesn’t matter. Mission half accomplished - everyone has to see this.”

She snapped a photo of the two of you, him leaning into you, you leaning onto the bar. From an outsider's perspective, with the angle that Penelope had taken the photo, it might have looked like you were enjoying his advances more than you actually were. You felt the vibration in your pocket as Penelope sent your photo to the group chat, but you didn’t look, too focussed on how you were going to get out of the man’s company without causing a scene to care about what your phone was doing.

“Oh, look,” Emily pointed to Penelope’s phone, “Morgan’s already responded-” She switched to a lower tone of voice as she read out the man’s text. “-Doesn’t count, Babygirl. Nobody’s gone home yet.”

“He’s right, you know,” JJ looked back at you and the man, “And I don’t think this is a match made in heaven.”

“I can’t keep losing this bet!” Penelope complained as she shoved her phone back in her bag and sat down, disheartened.

“Ha!” Emily laughed, looking at her own phone, “Hotch has seen it.”

“Oh, that’s embarrassing,” JJ stifled her own laugh by taking a sip of her drink, “Delete it, Garcia. Her boss has seen that.”

“He’s seen it all - he’s in the group chat,” Penelope defended, “Maybe the embarrassment of her constant failure will lure her into a perfect match.”

“That makes sense,” Emily commented sarcastically, eyes roaming over the crowd.

You laughed politely at the man’s joke before averting your eyes down to your lemonade. You weren’t supposed to be the designated driver - the four of you were meant to get a cab - but once you’d found out about Penelope’s plan, you’d switched to non-alcoholic drinks.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust yourself, but you studied serial killers and rapists for a living, and you knew that some men liked to take advantage. If you were drunk, you couldn’t defend yourself as well as if you were sober. Usually, it wasn’t an issue - you had your girls - but sometimes the anxiety was too much for you to enjoy a drink, and that anxiety only increased tenfold when you were left alone with a guy.

The man’s droning on was getting so tedious that when you looked over his shoulder and saw Aaron - neat suit and all - you thought you had imagined him. Then, when he started moving closer, you started to worry that he would get the wrong idea.

But, he knew you, and you could tell by his caution that he was well aware of how you were feeling, tuned into your discomfort. Once you’d confirmed that your boyfriend was, in fact, in the same bar as you, you smiled and communicated with your eyes something that you hoped sounded like: ‘Get the hell over here right now.’

“Excuse me,” Aaron attached himself to your side, and you instantly felt safer, “What are we talking about over here?”

“Hey, back off, man,” The guy stood up straighter, and Aaron slipped an arm around your waist, “I’ve been talking to her all night.”

“Yes, and clearly it was riveting conversation,” Aaron eyed the many empty bottles surrounding the two of you and then your own singular glass of lemonade with disdain, “But it’s time to say goodnight.”

He didn’t even allow the man to say anything else, just used his grip on your waist to spin the two of you around and toward where he knew the girls were sitting. His arm left your waist once the two of you were no longer shielded by other people, and as you approached the tall table, sliding into the spare chair, you scowled at Penelope.

“Next time you try to set me up against my will, at least make sure he’s not a jerk.”

“Next time, my love.” She promised, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

Aaron stood to your right, in between you and JJ, and you gestured to him as you looked between your three friends, “Look at who had to come and save me,” You feigned annoyance, and acted as though you were secretly telling the girls of your embarrassment, “How did you even know we were here?”

“Oh, my God. He saw the photo.” Penelope gasped.

“The what?”

“Garcia put a photo of you and the guy on the group chat to try and prove that she’d succeeded in her mission,” JJ admitted, amusement swimming in her blue eyes as she looked between you and Aaron.

“Oh, you’re asking for an HR case,” You pointed a finger at the flamboyant blonde, who smiled sweetly at you, tucking her hands underneath her chin, “You sent a picture of me at a bar to all of my colleagues?”

“If it makes you feel any better, Morgan said it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, great, so you sent my picture to my colleagues, and it didn’t even count.” You were only joking with them, and each of them was well aware of that fact.

“Still,” Emily turned her attention back to Aaron, “Why are you here?”

You also turned to look back at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He clearly hadn’t thought much past the initial urge to save you from your misery, and you were sure that not even Rossi could’ve lied your way out of the situation.

“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, brain working overtime for something believable, “I was here already for, the, uh…”

His eyes darted down to yours in desperation. You laughed at him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and reaching your hand down to grab at his. The secrecy was on your account, as most things in your relationship were; not only because he was technically your boss, but also because he was head-over-heels obsessed with you. It was created on your account, and you would be the one to break it.

“Okay, guys, there’s a reason why I never go home with anyone from the bar…” You grinned, peeking up at Aaron from where the back of your head rested just below his chin before you looked back at the girls.

Penelope was shocked into silence, her mouth wide open, hands stuck out by her sides, JJ was sporting a happy smile of her own, and Emily had a hand over her mouth, eyes blown with shock. After a few seconds of silence, where Aaron squeezed your hand to soothe both of your nerves, the group sprung into action.

“Oh, my God!” Emily chuckled, “I knew there was something going on. I knew it!”

“Oh, this is… This is…” Penelope waved her hands around.

“Wonderful,” JJ finished, reaching over to touch your other hand that rested on the table, “And congratulations - you had everyone fooled.”

“It’s been hard,” You conceded, “Sometimes during hard cases, it was slightly too hard, but we’ve gotten through it.”

“Oh, you guys,” Penelope tilted her head to the side, “You’re too adorable.”

“And on that note,” You smiled, picking up your purse, “I think we should probably go.”

You said your goodbyes, and Aaron managed to get out his own through his uncharacteristic blushes and stutters, and you made your way out to Aaron’s car, hand in hand.

“Why did you come?” You asked him out of curiosity once he’d climbed into his side of the car.

“Honest answer?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded, turning your body towards his, “Really, I saw that photo of you with the guy, and I didn’t even think about it. I just got in the car.”

“Oh, you were jealous,” You teased, poking his arm gently, “It’s okay, Hotchner, I’m all yours, anyway.”

“Good,” He leaned over the centre console, fingers gripping your chin and encouraging your face closer to his, “Because I’m all yours.”

Each of his kisses was a seal to his promise.

It was only in the morning, when you finally checked your phone after a night with Aaron, that you realised another photo had been snapped of you. One of you and Aaron walking out of the bar holding hands. Penelope had sent it to the group chat with the message ‘Mission finally successful.’

The group chat had barely shut up since, question after question rolling into your inbox.

You groaned, falling back into your pillow, where Aaron kissed a path from the tip of your middle finger to your cheek, smiling against your skin.

“If it makes you feel any better, Dave will stop bothering us about telling the truth now,” He mumbled into your neck, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you played with his hair.

“Very true, Hotchner. Just remember: it was your jealousy that got us into this mess, so you’re dealing with the questions we’re going to get.”

He laughed into your skin, an agreement.

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #but h'sversion

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mattslutt · 2 months

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QUIET

m.sturniolo

contains: smutish, pet names, oral!female.

short summary: at the party with your best friend matt who you thought was like a brother to you things led into something unexpected

The air was filled with loud music ringing in my ears, people surrounding me from every angle, everybody’s dancing, drinking, having fun. I was lost in the sounds of music, dancing my heart out, swaying my hips, feeling like the main character. Matt was behind me, looking at me how I was dancing. I didn’t even notice, I forgot for a few minutes that he was there.

The music stopped and my favourite song started playing which was ‘’my love by route 94”, i immediately threw my hands around Matt.

“My favourite song playing in my favourite club on a summer night. This feels like a movie”.

“Yeah”, Matt replied.

I didn’t even bother to care that his reply was dry, I immediately started dancing, turning around so he’s facing my back again. I felt his hands slowly placing on my hips. I felt a knock full of butterflies in my stomach. I tried to hide my smile but it was impossible. He also rested his head on my shoulder so I obviously had a very visible reaction that he’s giving me butterflies.

When the chorus beat dropped both of us got lost in the music, moving our hips to the music, his hands slowly reaching my waist. I turned to face him, the tension in the eye contact that was going on right now was almost impossible to handle. He just looked at me, continued to dance but his eyes were telling me something. I looked at his lips for a few seconds and looked up to his eyes again.

He grabbed my arm slowly and dragged me into the nearest bathroom, as i walked in i didn’t turn to face him because for some reason i was nervous. As he closed the door behind us he softly turned me around so I would face him and pulled me close to him by putting his hands on hips.

“What are you doing?”, I whispered.

The music was playing so loudly that you are still able to hear it in the bathroom.

“My mind is filled with you, I can’t think of anything else”, Matt whispered back.

I got a pinch feeling in my throat, like it was blocked. I didn’t know what was happening, why was I suddenly feeling something for him. He’s always been like a best friend, like a brother to me. Or maybe I was just trying to think like that so I wouldn’t get with him but the truth was that I wanted him so badly but I was scared he didn’t see me like that.

“Well get me out of your mind”, I whispered.

“I don’t want to”, Matt said this as he placed his hand on my chin as he lifted my head up a bit. His touch was sending me shivers through my whole body. He leaned in a bit closer, our lips only an inch apart.

“You that this will ruin everything”, I whispered while closing my eyes.

“I’m up for challenges”, Matt replied as he leaned in to kiss me.

Fucking hell.

His lips were so kissable that I could just drown in the feeling of them. It was a very needy kiss. His hands were trailing down around my panties. Matt pulled away from the kiss and got on his knees.

He looked up at me and slowly took of my panties.

“Will you be quiet for me?”, Matt whispered.

I nodded and rested my head on the bathroom door stall.

He lowered himself a little bit more before pressing his lips on my already wet clit.

I bit my lips down so my whimpers wouldn’t be too loud. I thrusted my hips a bit and I felt Matt holding my legs, he grabbed one of them and threw it onto his shoulder so he would have more access. He slowly pushed two of his fingers inside me and fastened the peace..

“Fuck Matt, someone’s gonna walk in and see us”, I spoke quietly with whimpers.

He didn’t even reply, he fastened the peace even more, I threw my head back and gasped while digging my nails into his hair and pushing my hips into his mouth. I felt my climax approach. I released all over his face, him absolutely licking everything off. Matt looked up at me and stood up, he was grinning and smirking. A small smirk formed onto my face as Matt grabbed me by my arm and leaned me closer to him as he leaned against a bathroom commode.

Both of us were just looking at each other as our hands were on each others chests.

“Felt kinda crazy knowing I had to hide how I feel for almost two years”, Matt broke the silence by saying this.

“Two years?”, my jaw dropped cuz i never in a million years would have thought that a guy like him would see me that way.

“Yes silly, two years”, he chuckled as he petted my nose.

“You’re insane Matthew”.

“Yeah, only you are able to make me feel this way”, he smiled as he said this and leaned in to kiss me again.

____________________________________________

short cuz i have no energy sorry guys 😞. thank you sososososo much for 711 you guys are so supportive i love you all sm💗.

taglist: @hoesformatt @sturncrazy @sturnsblunt @plasticferal @mbbsgf @westwiing13 @lacysturniolo @gamermattsgf @goandcomebsck

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fantiction #fanfic #smutty smut smut #smut #Spotify #sturniolo smut #mattslutt

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bas-writes · 6 months

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Kings Don't Fall in Love

Character: Donquixote Doflamingo Reader: female (should be trans inclusive but I haven't proof-read it from this pov, so proceed at own risk) CW: intimacy starved Doffy, non-descriptive mentions of sex, pressure put on scent, emotional isolation, Doffy's pov Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: You leave a piece of clothing after a night spent together at Doflamingo's place. Something unexpected happens when he takes a closer look at it. A/N: I listen too much to Cigarettes After Sex and it shows... Anyway, a little gift to @opopnomi for which I hope she won't kill me LMAO Hope it made your day at least a little better :3

It's just your overnight t-shirt.

Doflamingo almost misses it among the clutter thrown all over his bedroom. It's just a single piece of clothing, but a little snip of fabric in comparison to his own stuff all around. You're so little next to him, from heads to toes, and especially your hands he likes to hold in his as he teases you for your embarrassment in face of the size difference. Everything about you is so little and endearing, and he can't help a little smirk at the thought of your eyes perked up at him.

They always look doe and pleading from this angle. And he loves it.

It's just your overnight t-shirt. A thing you wear only in the privacy of your room, not here, in the kingdom of lingerie, kink apparel, and all of his whims at the given moment. He got to know it only because you were wearing it when he dragged you out of your house and kidnapped you to his territory.

Doflamingo can't even remember now how you looked in it as all he cared about was to free you out of it, to feel your bare breasts in his hands. He picks it up, its weight barely palpable, and frowns, trying to recreate the image in his head, and failing. He doesn't cry over it, the thing is not sexy; it's just a t-shirt, stretched over your size, its colors worn-out, chosen to be cozy, not presentable. It's somewhat yours through and through and alien for his eyes. It suits you like your own skin and disturbs the image of yours in his mind. It's so out of place, time and imagination that he can't peel his eyes off it.

The king's attention can last only as much, though, and he's already putting it away—to send you back or throw it into trash, he's not decided yet—when an impulse strikes his curiosity. Doflamingo doesn't think much of it when he brings the t-shirt closer. It's just a whim, a spur of a second, who would have paid attention to reasoning behind something so meaningless?

When it touches his cheek, he nearly understands why you like to sleep in it. It's soft—and not only for a piece of clothing. The sensation is pleasant, almost having him craving for more, especially against the freshly shaved, irritated skin. It carries a weirdly nostalgic feel to that, like a warm hand cupping his face. He can't pinpoint what pulls him to do that, but he follows and nuzzles into the fabric, with hesitation at first, soon with eagerness that shocks him—but doesn't stop him regardless.

Your smell is…stronger.

Doflamingo knows every aspect of yours, all of the intimate nooks and crevices of your body. But this is different, far more private, feeling almost forbidden to be approached so…offhandedly. It's not just a faint trace of your scent nor the sharp aroma he trails straight from your skin. The t-shirt is soaked with you; it's still fresh enough to carry the aftertaste of a pleasant and flowery smell of washing detergent but also clearly worn for many nights already. It's the coziness of your tangled sheets, the rustle of a book you like to read before sleep, the simple touch of toothpaste and morning coffee, the whisper of dreams and hum of the alarm clock on your bed stand.

He's a brutal intruder, maybe for the first time ashamed of it—but chasing the sensation nevertheless, the stronger the bigger his guilt grows. Until this moment, Doflamingo has been sure you're in his possession, like a bird in a tight cage of his strings—and now each breath of your most sacred intimacy proves him what a fool he's been all this time. He holds a treasure he should never been trusted with, the image of you you kept to your solitude. You don't share such secrets with just anyone, oh Doflamingo is aware, so painfully aware. He's just your lover, just your king, just someone who can control your body and mind, but never your soul, wrapped tightly in this old t-shirt he so brutally gently presses to his face.

He wants more, he needs more, he fears more.

His eyes closing, Doflamingo takes one more, desperately deep breath, full of your smell and his loneliness. His arms should be filled with you—yet, they're empty. This shirt should be covering your breasts—yet, it's almost teared in his desperate clutch. Your voice should vibrate through his bedroom—and yet, there's only an echo of the sound he hasn't heard for decades. Your body should warm his side—yet he's shivering in the middle of his pathetic kingdom of four walls and ice-cold heart.

What's a king without the thing he craves the most, after all? Without the thing he will never claim as it's impossible to be claimed?

It scares him, that musky and heavy scent tangled in cotton threads. That lie detector, that sharp knife slicing his soul paper-thin, and heading towards the most vulnerable, the most protected core of his memories and emotions. Doflamingo takes the last, shaking whiff of it, and finally pulls away, his chest clenched tight and eyes dry and pricking. Your shirt is just a shirt again, just a piece of old, stretched fabric in his hands.

He almost throws it away, with fear and self-disgust.

It should be returned, it should be gone, but the longer he thinks about it, Doflamingo can't bring himself to move either way. Just the idea of handing it to a servant leaves a bad, bitter taste in his mouth, like sucking blood out of a cut on a parched lip. Walking to your house and disturbing your privacy even more fills him with anxiety he hasn't experienced before. And to call you here—

Your soul shouldn't be entrusted to a place of corporeality.

He would gladly just toss it out of his sight and mind—or to seal it in one of his hidden vaults, where neither of you wouldn't find it for a long, long time. At the same time, he doesn't want to, to hide and to heal. It burns his hand when he finally brings himself to pull the den den mushi out of the drawer and chooses your number he has, much to his surprise, learnt already by heart. It is almost physical, harder with each passing second, and he just keeps clenching his fingers tighter on it.

A few dreadful heartbeats later, the torturous, steady ring of awaiting call is interrupted by your voice. And Doflamingo can finally bleed his soul out into the speaker, "Y/N. Come. Yes, you left something at my place."

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo imagine #doflamingo scenario #doflamingo fanfiction #doflamingo fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #bas writes #doflamingo #female reader

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meikudan · 8 months

Note

hiiii mei can i request riding nanami for the first time? 💕

tysm for this ilysm

nanami x f!reader , mdni

Ever since you and Nanami got married, living with him has been sort of different? You feel like you’ve lost all confidence when it comes to sex and your desires. It’s almost like you’ve gone completely frustrated, because you can’t figure out the right words to tell your sweet, caring husband that you want to ride him for the first time.

A few hours later, you find yourself experimenting, or “teaching” yourself the ways of riding. Up and down, bouncing on it while trying to keep your balance. Nanami was big, and you knew riding him wouldn’t be so easy with him stretching you out so damn good. However, the tinted colored dildo you were riding did the job, though you weren’t being stretched or stuffed full like how you like to be, training those hips was your main priority.

Soon, you were getting used to it, the sound of your whimpers and sweet moans filled the room, whispering your husband's name. As soon as you are about to reach climax, the sound of your shared bedroom door opens.

You pause all your tracks, as your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach.

“Looks like you’re having fun here without me, angel.” Your legs closed as fast as they could, you got up from the dildo, heart beating fast, not just because of his arrival, but the fact that you were so close and didn’t get to cum like you wanted.

“I.. um.. it’s not what it looks like..?” It was very much what it looked like. You, getting off to that dildo Nanami bought you himself, riding it like your life depended on it.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to lie to me, I have eyes that see perfectly fine.” The closer he got to you, the more anxious you got. Never in your life have you been caught playing with yourself with him knowing, especially doing something you’ve never done to him before.

“Open,” Was all it took for him to say, you obediently open your legs for him to see it all. You were so, so very wet. He got down on his knees, and began rubbing his fingers through your folds.

“N-nanami.. um.. I want to ask you something.” He began toying with your clit, making it harder to get your words out and form sentences. “Hmm?” He was so focused on your heat, you were sure he wasn’t even listening to you.

“Can I r-ride it? Please ..?” He stops what he’s doing, and looks you in the eyes. “Is that why I came home to find you desperately riding that thing?” His words brought forever heat to your cheeks, the embarrassment flooding in.

“I just wanted to make sure I was riding it properly, I’m sorry daddy.” He started stripping himself of his clothing, and propped himself on the bed. Boy he was hard. It stood up so well, thick and with a nice curve. His dick makes you needier than ever, so wet and all for him.

“Come here, princess,” he said to you in such a soft tone. You crawled towards him, your lips getting tangled with his. The way his tongue finds a way into your mouth puts you in such a trance. He pulled away, a pout forming across your lips.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to ride my dick just like you rode that dildo okay? Be a good girl and show me what you can do.”

Only a few minutes later, which felt like twenty, you were riding him, and it felt oh so good. You felt full, his cock hitting all the right parts inside, tip prodding at your g spot.

“K-kentooo.. feels so good..” Nanami feels like he’s about to lose his mind, you were so tight, cunt snuggly wrapped around him. “Why don’t you pick up the paste huh baby? Look so good riding me, such a good girl,” his praise had you stuck in a trance, you tightened around him so good.

You picked up the paste, and soon enough, you were riding him like a pro. You had come so many times and yet you couldn’t get enough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, face buried in the crook of his next. At this angle, he was now hitting your cervix, the tip just at the right spot. Your fourth orgasm approaches, leaving you a stuttering, crying mess.

“C-coming Nanamiiiii fuck.” Right then and there, you made a mess all over him. "Good girl princess, doing so good. Just a little more, you can do it."

His words of encouragement lifted you up like nothing else. You were determined to make him cum inside you and stuff you full, all because of you riding him.

He started breathing heavily after a little bit, signaling to you that he was close. You purposely tightened up, groans beginning to leave his mouth. Your tits looked so pretty, bouncing on show for him. The way you were moving your hips back and forth, causing your husband to get caught in a daze. The grip on your hips got even tighter, a mark was bound to be formed.

"Don't s-stop baby, don't stop.." You loved seeing him get weak for you, and since it was your first time riding him, you felt so confident. You leaned in for a kiss, and all of a sudden, he came hard inside of you. His eyes rolled back a bit as you continued to ride him, though you slowed down as he came down from his high, you felt so proud of yourself.

He looked up at you, his pretty girl, who had done such a good job for him. "Those hips are dangerous, you know that?" You giggled at his words, leaning in for another kiss. "I hope you don't think we're done sweetie, you still got a lot of work to do," he said. You felt his cock harden below you, and you knew you were in for a long night.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #nanami x fem!reader

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kaydenverse · 1 year

Text

Needy

pairing: König x gn reader

18+ MINORS DNI

genre: absolute filth

word count: 814

content warnings: size kink, overstimulation, begging, uhh idk

a/n: woaahh using proper punctuation now anyways i’m deeply in love with könig like very deeply

“I’m sorry,” König pants has he desperately ruts his hips against yours. “I’m sorry Mein Liebling, you just feel so good I can’t stop.” he groans against your shoulder.

You whine out, high and loud, when he pins one of your wrists next to your head while his other hand grips your hip. He’s still careful to not lean too much of his weight on you despite his rough handling of you at the moment.

He’d never forgive himself if he ever hurt you more than you can handle even after telling him countless times that you truly don’t mind.

“König-!” Part of you wants to arch into him and beg him for more but another part of you also wants the mattress beneath you to open up and swallow you whole so you could catch a few seconds of peace, a moment to piece your thoughts back together, before König is prying open the jaws of the cushiony monster and diving in after you to jumble your head all over again.

“Shh shh, you can handle it.” König nearly chokes on a moan when you tug at the ginger hair on the back of his neck.

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. There’s too much of that wonderful feeling pulsing through your body and you kick one of your legs out as if that will extend some of the pleasure outside your body but you’re simply stuck with the overwhelming buzz. In fact, your squirming is making him get just the right angle.

you’re going to burst at the seams.

“Baby,” You whimper and yank his head back just enough so he can see your face. “Please I can't.” you whine yet make zero effort to stop him.

König shoves his face back into the crook of your neck. “I’m so close, you feel so good. Been thinking about this all day.” his whiny tone is almost competition with yours.

König had been so needy all day, so much so that Horangi definitely caught the several times the Austrian man had pulled you aside for a not so sneaky kiss or two… or three… Horangi did walk in on the two of you making out on the sparring mat after König had pinned you during a sparring match. The both of you quickly apologized and excused yourselves from the room with Horangi teasing the two of you on your way out.

A short walk to your room on base and an hour later he's made you cum three times already, twice with his mouth because he eats like a starved man and once with his fingers while forcing you to look directly into his chestnut colored eyes. You’re quickly approaching your fourth high as König fucks you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“You’re so small.” König lets out a breathy laugh above you. “Yet here you are taking me so well aren’t you?” he leans his kissed raw lips closed to your ear and what he whispers makes your mind go blank.

“I could break you and you’d love it, meine liebe.”

König, your darling boyfriend who shyly asks to kiss you and gets flustered when you call him pretty. Your König who handcrafts you gifts to leave in your bed whenever you're away on missions. you two are so sweet to one another around others that no one would ever guess that you both shamelessly get off on threatening one another while you fuck.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

The moan that escapes you is loud and König has the audacity to laugh at you. “I’m, ooh-“ you’re hurdling over the edge before you can get the words out.

König’s rhythm falters as you completely come apart underneath him. You scratch at his broad shoulders and shake, your high so intense your lips part but no noise falls from them. The Austrian manages to slide out of your despite your legs trying to lock him in place and he spills his release all over your stomach, whimpering and whining. He adores seeing you covered in his mess.

You barely have time to recover before König is frantically kissing down your torso to lick him his mess. You stare at the ceiling and shiver at the sensation of your König lapping up every last drop of his own cum on your stomach. Just when you think he’s done, he’s kissing down farther and that causes you to snap your head up to look at him.

“baby, wait,” You tug at the hair on the top of his head which only earns you a pleased moan as he settles himself between your thighs again. “please I can’t” you whine but he sees right through your fake protest.

“You can,” König hoists your thighs over his shoulders yet again. “and you will.”

#könig x you #könig x reader #könig #könig smut #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod smut #call of duty mwii #call of duty smut #könig call of duty #könig imagine #könig mw2 #kayden writes

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 19 all chapters

“Jane! Will you hear reason? (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); “because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence.” -Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

WARNINGS: NSFW, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T, PLZ TAKE CARE, LOVE U ALL 😘😘😘😘

-It is unfathomable, the amount of dread that manages to build inside you as you make that short walk up the stairs and down the hall. Back to the bedroom, which may as well be your jail cell. The locks on the door engage with what is to you, an ominous click.

Did you really think you were going to get one over on a man who was a professional predator?

You little fool.

You find it hard to read John’s expression. Not mad, exactly, but not happy either. Pensive. You realize he’s deep in thought, and that almost scares you more than if he’d peppered you with threats.

What is he going to do to you?

He drops you down on the bed, hard enough that you bounce. Your first instinct is to try to scramble away, but he is on you in a second, pulling you closer with hands on your thighs that will not be denied.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He leans over you, trapping you in the cage of his arms and his torso. He is so much bigger than you, and you hate it that you find his looming body equally titillating as it is terrifying. Your hands gravitate to his chest, as though to keep him at bay, but mostly…just resting there, on muscle that is like warm carved granite.

You dare to look up meet his gaze, and find his eye has turned from swollen red to a vibrant royal purple. You know it must hurt.

Even more fucked up, you actually start to feel bad about it.

You reach up to touch his cheek lightly. “John…I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrow, and he looks you up and down so neatly trapped beneath him. “Oh, you’re going to be,” he practically purrs.

A trill of fear skitters down your spine.

“My ankle hurts,” you whine, angling for sympathy.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Pretty sure it’s yours.”

He chuckles at you, though there is a dark note beneath it all that lifts every hair on your body.

You are so fucked.

You cannot help but think he is savoring your nervousness, like a cat toying with a mouse. You are shaking like a leaf, and you flinch when he lifts a hand to your face. But he doesn’t strike you, just caresses the curve of your cheek.

You know deep down that he’s just priming you for what is to come, but fuck if it doesn’t feel wonderful to lean into his touch, and you can nearly pretend that he cherishes you. It almost puts you at ease—but you have already learned this man offers no comfort without exacting some impossible price for it later.

He settles farther into you with a low sound like a growl, rubbing the scruff of his beard against your face as though marking you. It is so primal, so far removed from anything civilized, and you…cannot suppress a sigh.

You should struggle and bite and kick—but in that moment, you just...don't want to.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, a sound from deep in his chest that you feel as much as hear. “My fierce little kitten. What am I to do with you?”

“Let me go?”

You don't know why you even ask. You already know his answer, but you just can't stop yourself. You are filled to the gills with the most agonizing mix of arousal and fear, nearly sick with the adrenaline racing through your veins.

This man will kill you just with the threat of waiting, it seems.

He answers by pressing his mouth to yours, taking your lips in a possessive and probing kiss that curls your toes. He pulls you closer, offering you a firm thigh between your legs to grind upon, and goddamn it that if lost in the moment, you don’t take him up on it. You feel him smile against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip.

It leaves you dizzy with desire, and he takes advantage of your stupefied state, suddenly flipping you on your stomach. You scream a little with surprise, finding yourself bent over the edge of the bed, his narrow hips flush against your backside. You try to struggle up on your elbows, but he pins you down with a large hand between your shoulder blades.

“Stay there,” he warns you. “Or I'll make you stay.”

Your heart is a thunderous timpani roll in your ears. With your face down in the soft sheets that smell so deliciously like him, you fear you know what’s coming next. Yet he takes his time about it, his gentle fingertips tracing your curves, down to the sensitive skin of the backs of your thighs. It makes you shudder—why does he have to be so gentle, while he’s being so terrible?

You feel his fingers bunch in your hem a moment before he wrenches your skirt up past your waist.

You cry out, writhing on instinct, but again he pins you with his torso moulded against your back. The warmth of him, and the weight of him…is a damnably delightful thing.

“My bad bad girl.” You feel his fingertips ghosting up your thigh, up to trace the line of your panties over your buttock, teasing just inside the elastic. Your hands fist in the sheets; you can hardly stand it. His light touch feels uneasily wonderful, and your fruitless squirming beneath him is equally fueled by desire and dread. You can feel his erection pressing into your flesh. It does not help the growing ache between your thighs. It's possible you arch into him for a moment, before you regain your wits again, grinding your teeth against every iota of tainted pleasure this man makes you feel.

He cups the round of your butt with a groan of approval, the breadth of his paw making you feel impossibly small.

“Such a perfect ass. Just made for spanking.”

A spear of cold fear pierces your insides.

“Please don't hit me.” You hate how utterly pathetic you sound, whimpering into the counterpane.

“No? You hit me first.”

“I...you kidnapped me!”

“Hmm.”

You are realizing that's not going to be a viable defense with this man.

“Just remember, kitten. Anything you can do.” He kisses the knob of your spine on the back of your neck, making you shudder. “I can do to you.” Another kiss, lower on your exposed spine, that absolutely fries the wires in your brain. “Ten times worse. Understood?”

“Yes.” You are proud that your voice sounds somewhat level, because all you want to do is sob into the sheets. It makes you so angry, that he can manipulate your body this way, and that the threat of his brutality merely seems to serve as an amuse bouche to your arousal. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“So. My darling doesn't like hitting. I don't either. Should we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“You won't hit me, and I won't hit you.”

“Ok,” you sigh, relieved yet knowing this is not something that in a sane world, should win your gratitude. Little by little, he's tying your hands more, stealing your ability to fight back, catching you up in the web of his game.

His voice drops low as he warns you, “Don't break a deal with me, sweetheart. You won't like it.”

“I won't.” Your voice is so small, you hardly recognize it.

He makes a sound of approval from deep in his chest, running his hand down your back, almost like he’s petting you.

“But now we're back to square one. How am I to punish you?”

You make a squeak of surprise.

“But—”

“I’m going to have a black eye for at least a week. You owe me something.”

He kidnapped you, and you hit him trying to escape, so you owe him.

Class, welcome to Gaslighting 101.

Worse yet, you know it, but there’s not a goddammed thing you can do about it.

When you remain silent in your fury he further prompts, “Any suggestions?”

You cannot stop yourself from spitting, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He actually laughs at that, a low sound that tugs at your belly and makes you pulse between your thighs.

“I think I have an idea.”

His fingertips hook in the sides of your panties, drawing them down to bare your ass to him. “No…” You try to roll away, but he pins you again with his hips against the bed.

“Feeling shy now? I literally had my tongue inside your sweet little pussy a few days ago.” The reminder of this invokes a throbbing in your cunt that is not helpful at all.

“That was different…”

“Was it?”

A lump rises in your throat, and you barely manage to speak around it. “I trusted you then.”

“I’m still the same man, y/n.” He caresses the curve of your ass cheek, so gently. His fingertips stray agonizingly close to your weeping center, and you know you are a broken thing, for the flood of slick that answers him between your legs. You tremble as you fight not to strain towards him, like a flower seeks the sun. “I think you knew I was dangerous, even then.”

Your breath escapes in a shuddering sigh. He might be right about that…but the rest. There’s no way you could have even dreamed all the rest. You did not sign up for this. You’re going to have to keep reminding yourself of that, no matter how tenuous your reality becomes.

A small sound escapes you, as he bends to kiss the small of your back.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, y/n.” His lips stray lower to the globe of your ass, and you quiver in a mixture of anticipation and fear. His thumb rests at the crease where your thigh meets your butt cheek, so close to your center that you could scream. “A bruise for a bruise.”

“Wait—”

His teeth sink into your ass, hard, and you squeal.

“John!”

He holds you down, sucking mercilessly, leaving what you realize will be the worst hickey in the history of hickeys. It hurts, but a little voice inside your head sings out, it could be so much worse... and as it goes on...his mouth working on your flesh sort of feels good. You force yourself to remain still, gripping the sheets so hard that you feel like they should tear.

When at last he finishes with you, planting the gentlest kiss over the site he just utterly ravaged, you whimper with relief...and want. He continues his soft kisses, feather light, up your spine again, until his body is draped over yours once more, his erection in his pants fitting snugly in the crack of your ass.

Fuck.

You are a quivering mess beneath him, and there is a chaotic knot in your chest made of fear, desire, revulsion, and yearning. You are coiled tight as a spring, and you know, you just know that if he moved to take you like this you would absolutely let him, weeping with relief, even if you would loathe yourself for it later.

He kisses your cheek, ever so sweetly, as though he hadn’t just scared the bejeezus out of you and practically tried to take a bite out of you besides. “That’s my good girl. You took that so well.”

You can hardly believe the intoxicating flood of warmth that fills you at hearing those words. For the umpteenth time you wonder what the fuck is he doing to you?

You feel him start to move off of you, and before you can stop yourself you make a sound of protest, not wanting him to go.

“Shh. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He claps your behind just enough to make a sound—and a spear of longing to shoot through you.

Before you can complain about your deal of no hitting, he’s gone, leaving you cold and exposed upon the bed, wondering what the fuck just happened.

-By the time he returns you’ve righted yourself again, pulled up your big girl panties and got in a quick, semi-cathartic cry against the pillow that smells so wonderfully of him.

Dog is at John’s heels, and he is ever so happy to scarf down the remains of your sandwich that still littered the floor.

John scoops up the book that nearly took his head off. You can see his left eye is swelling angrily. He should have iced it immediately—but he had other things on his mind.

“Did it have to be War and Peace?” he grumbles with a frown.

“Seemed fitting.”

He snorts, though the look he pays you isn’t exactly kind. “Remind me to hide Anna Karenina,” he says, but just replaces it on the shelf, not even bothering to take it away from you.

You guess he won't fall for the same trick twice.

You're right about that.

After he wraps your ankle with ACE bandage and sits for a while with frozen peas on his eye, he installs a camera up in the corner of the room, right where you can see it.

“This will stay here until you prove to me you can be trusted with privacy.”

You frown, but say nothing in return.

-Later, you are resting together in bed, almost like a normal couple. At his demand you agreed to snuggle with him, settling in at his side. His arm is around your shoulders, your head on his chest. The scene is almost sweet, but he has the cold pack on his eye again, and you are elevating your ankle on a pillow.

What a pair you make.

He adjusts the compress on his eye, and you are taken aback after he so insisted on punishing you, he seems to find it funny, a huff of laugher escaping him. “Don't tell anyone you got one in on John Wick, they'll want to hire you.”

Though you should be cautious after everything that just happened, this piques your voracious curiosity once more.

“Were you a big deal, in your world?

“I was...good at my job.”

“How did you get into that?”

He juts his bottom jaw, the way you've noticed he does when he's agitated, or thinking about something he doesn’t like.

“I never really had a choice,” he answers finally. “I was an orphan, and the people who took me in trained me to be a killer.”

You blink at that, trying to decide if he's fucking with you or not.

“That's like, some Agent Salt shit.”

He tilts his head, not following.

“You know. Like, KGB Russian sleeper agents?”

He snorts. “Sure, I guess. I might have liked KGB training, compared to what we went through.”

Before you can stop yourself, you reach up to touch his face, stroking his beard with the blade of your thumb.

Jesus, you should not feel sorry for this man. But Goddammit. Something tells you that he's absolutely telling you the truth. Something about the way he delivers it, and the way he is…it tracks. He’s not trying to sound tough, or brag, or make up a good backstory about his past.

It just…is, and it breaks your heart in two.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere #yandere john wick #please enjoy your weekend dose 😂😂#😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

Note

I just want a reader when first seeing the fucking bayverse turtles with fight or flight instincts to actually fight back and actually get a good hit. PLEASE.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

yes

Bay!Turtles x Gn!reader

The Punch Line

It was a normal patrol night

Going out across the city, stopping little burglars and thieves.

This night as the patrol was coming to an end, a scream was heard just a block away.

They quickly ran and saw a group of presumably drunk men trying to assault someone: not on their watch!

The boys swung into action, quickly apprehending the drunks and calling the police to come pick them up.

But, when the boys looked around, the person who was in danger had legged it down another alleyway.

So, being the polite turtles they are, they went to go calm this person down and make sure there were no serious injuries.

There you were, back to them, panting heavily, and most likely crying from the ordeal.

He carefully approached you, reaching a hand out and gently tapping your shoulder.

"Excuse me-"

Donnie:

He should've known better than to sneak up on someone who was almost just assaulted, but here he was anyway.

You moved so fast it was a blur, your elbow coming right back without any hesitation and slamming right into his nose.

He groaned loudly, eyes watering and hands coming up to cover his face, feet automatically taking a step back.

"Don't touch me!" Came your very shaky voice.

"Woah, woah, we're not going to hurt you," Leo's voice appeared and Donnje figured so had Mikey and Raph.

He still couldn't open his eyes, he could tell his nose was bleeding, he hoped it wasn't broken.

He felt one of his brothers hands on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

"We got rid of those guys for you baby cakes, but I'm guessing with how you just hit Donnie that those guys wouldn't have been conscious long," Mikey joked.

Finally, Donnie was able to open his eyes, but tears will still streaming down his face. He blinked several times as Mikey and Leo explained how they were trying to help and they were the good guys.

Raph tightened his grip on Donnie's shoulder. "Here, let me see,"

Donnie let go of his nose and angled his head up, cringing as Raph inhaled sharply.

"I don't know if it's broken but it's banged up pretty good,"

"I'm sorry," your voice was sincere as you approached the tall turtle. "I didn't know-"

"No, please, you have nothing to apologize for, this is actually a very good reaction for when someone you doesn't know tries to touch your shoulder," Donnie rambled, his voice sounding like he had a stuffy nose and cold.

"Well, here at least," You pulled out a handkerchief and extended it toward him. "To help with the....the blood and stuff,"

He accepted the handkerchief and agreed to take your number so he could return it (washed of course).

Leo:

Leo saw your elbow come up, so he was able to move his head out of the way and not get hit.

But he didn't expect you to quickly spin around and drive your knee right into his crotch

It felt like you had rocks for knees.

He groaned, dropping the katana he was holding and falling to his knees.

"Don't touch me!" Came your very shaky voice.

Leo tried to explain that he wasn't there to hurt you, that he and his family were vigilantes who protected this city, and had just taken care of the drunks that were bothering you.

Instead a bunch of breathy pants and groans escaped him.

You took a step back, fists raised and ready.

"What happened?" Leo hears Raph from behind him, a mix of confusion and amusement in his voice.

"He was trying to get their attention by tapping their shoulder, and they just nailed him right in the balls," Mikey said, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Who are you?!" You yelled, taking a few cautious steps back seeing there were more of them.

"Calm down, firecracker, we're the good guys, we just took care of those idiots, were not gonna hurt ya," Raph raised his hands while walking to Leo who was still on the ground.

"Can't say the same thing about you though," Mikey laughed, coming forward and standing on Leo's other side, picking up his katana. "Pretty sure you broke his balls,"

"Come on, Fearless," Raph reached under Leo's arm and lifted him to his feet. "Let's get you home,"

Raph and Mikey led Leo out of the alleyway. Leo felt out of breath and his knees felt like they would give out at any moment.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Donnie piped in, grimacing at Leo's shaking legs. "We usually know better,"

"No, I....I uh I didn't mean to hurt him, I was just spooked," You shook your hear, pulling your coat tighter around you.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's tougher than he looks," Donnie simply shrugs, raising an eyebrow at how suddenly concerned you look. "I could give you his number so you could apologize later, I don't think he's retaining any new information right now,"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'd like that, I feel bad now," You laugh softly, taking out your phone.

Mikey:

Mikey had seen hundreds of shows and movies where this exact situation happened, and yet....yet he still tapped your shoulder.

You spun with inhuman speed, raising your backpack high above your head and smashing it right into the side of his face.

"Wha-" Mikey groaned, feeling dizzy and almost toppling over, but before he could stand upright, you raised the bag again and hit him in the back of the head.

"Don't touch me!" Came your very shaky voice.

He fell to the ground, covering his head and trying to shake off the dizziness.

"Wait! Wait! I'm a good guy! I'm not here to hurt you!" He yelled, raising a three fingered hand.

He peered up at you, you were panting heavily, bag raised and eyes wide.

"What.....what are you?"

He shrugged. "We're not really into labels,"

"I'm sorry, 'we'?" You drop your arms, bag hanging off your elbow.

"Yeah, my brothers and I protect the city, we aren't here to hurt you, I was just checking to see if you were injured," He slowly say back on his haunches, his head was pounding but the dizziness was mostly gone.

"Oh, I...I didn't know," You stepped back, giving him room to stand.

"It's alright, if I'm being honest that's a better reaction then most have," He laughed, wiping the dirt from his hands and knees.

"I'm Y/n," You say softly, quirking a brow at the strange man in front of you.

"Mikey,"

You smiled. "Well, Mikey, would you mind walking me home? I live just five minutes away but don't really want to walk alone,"

"Yeah, yeah, I can walk you,"

You smiled warmly again and Mikey knew he'd see you again after tonight.

Raph:

Every instinct in his body was telling him to turn around. You had just been attacked by a group of horrible men and probably would not want a giant turtle messing with you either.

But you were sobbing softly with your back to him and his heart won the fight.

"Excuse me-"

He saw your shoulders tense and your arms swinging at him, he ducked back, grabbing both your forearms in his large hands.

"Don't touch me!" Came your very shaky voice.

"I'm not here to hurt you," He spoke firmly, watching as you wrangled and moved your wrists in his hands. His heart sunk feeling your fast pulse in his palm.

You were frightened.

"Listen-"

Your heel came up and slammed down into his knee, he roared with pain, dropping one of your wrists.

With the same foot, you kicked his ankle, throwing him off balance, allowing you to free your wrist.

"Damn, you're strong," He groaned, bent over, hand rubbing at his now swollen knee. "Do you take any martial art classes or a self defense class?"

Was he seriously trying to start a conversation right now? You shake your head, taking a step back from him.

"That's none of your business,"

"It will be if ya broke my knee," He hissed with pain, standing to his full height. "Anyway, I can see now that you're perfectly fine so I'll be on my way,"

As if he read your mind he continued. "And don't worry about those nasty drunks in the other alley, my brothers and I go 'em, yours safe to go home,"

"Brother's? There are more of you?" You quirk a brow, straightening your back when he throws you a smirk over his shoulder as he walks away.

"That's none of your business,"

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @strawberrycakeblog @saspas-corner @dilucsflame33 @post-apocalyptic-daydream

#this was so fun #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt x reader #tmnt headcannon #tmnt headcannons #tmnt imagines #tmnt imagine #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt raph x reader #thanks for the ask!

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yourejinx · 1 year

Text

Undeniable Bonds.

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, sad, ugly thoughts.

word count: 3583.

Author’s note: I’m so sorry I’m so late with this. I still don’t know if I like it, but hopefully it isn’t that bad. I know it still is a lot of context, but I promise I’m getting somewhere.

CHAPTER TWO.

“CASSIAN!” — Nesta’s warning roar reached my ears and everything seemed to stop. I turned around dragging my sword with me and gutting the Hybern soldier in one go.

I scanned the area where Cassian’s party was fighting in the skies, then towards the older Archeron sister on the ground next to Amren. Something throbbed inside my veins in warning, as if something hideous had come to life. It took me a heartbeat to understand. The Cauldron. It was going to blast, and Nesta had known where it was aimed at.

The Ilyrians had their shields up, Rhys had blasted his magic across the field and Cassian —gods above— Cassian was already racing towards Nesta, and out of the Cauldrons range. Still, something kept pushing, urging me to move. Danger, Danger, Danger it chanted. It hit me a moment later, and all my alarms went off. Where was Azriel?

Amidst the blinding light and unbearably heat of the blast that followed, I almost missed the faint blue glow trying and failing to contain the blow. There, just behind the ranks, Azriel’s focus was solely in holding that shield up, trying to spare someone, anyone. I could only watch in horror as one of those abhorred gray-skinned creatures approached him fast, claws ready to cut through skin and bone. It was going to behead him.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream like Nesta had to let him know. But my voice failed me, my throat so sore that only a pathetic strangled whisper managed to escape my trembling lips; “No.”

I cursed the mother, the gods and fate itself for not making me a winged creature.

It was impossible for him to have heard it through this distance, and yet —somehow— as if it had slapped him across the face, he turned towards me. His eyes found mine through ash and gore and despair, and I couldn’t let myself think twice before winnowing right at his back, atop the damned beast aiming for his head. I couldn’t bother with strategy at this point, I just angled my blade against that misshaped chest and pushed to get it through its heart. The creature thrashed and fought fangs and claws to get me off, turning us around in the sky as we plummeted down towards certain death. It was enough, I told myself as the ground inched closer to us. It was enough to get it away from Azriel.

I braced myself for the impact, my eyes closed shut and my arms gave up as the creature finally stopped moving. But my body never touched the ground.

Rough, desperate hands were gripping my legs and under my arms, snatching me from the Attor’s grip and up to the skies again. I dared a look at his face, he was forcing his still healing wings far too much but he didn’t seem to care. Hazel orbs were already staring at me. Gaping at me. And I felt it too, the golden string stretching between our souls. Mates, Azriel was my mate.

“You…” Azriel choked on his words. Eyes wide.

“Later.” I promised, still shaken by the feeling of him. Of his very essence entwining with mine.

But the war was still raging under our feet. Later never came.

—----------------------------------------------------------

It had been terrible timing for the bond to snap then. With all that was going on, Amren turning into a living raging flame then vanishing, the Cauldron and the world falling apart…Rhys dying —fucking dying on us — only to come back later.

We didn't speak about it, Azriel and I. Didn't bother to acknowledge it as time passed and we fell back into routine. The adrenaline of the war worn out.

It didn't matter anyways, I realized coming back to present time, for he had hated it even then. So I shut it down, and never dared to talk it into existence.

My mate, the person destined for me, despised me in every way he could. It had to be the saddest joke of them all.

But he had a right, after all, who would love an unworthy monstrous thing like myself?

I pushed the little bakery's door open, walking straight to Rhysand's favorite sweets and buying an entire box of them.

"You're not his fucking sister!", Azriel's words still rang loudly in my head. I had to think carefully how to bring the subject up to Rhys, my decision to leave this court. Because even if I wanted to deny it, some part of what the Shadowsinger had said resonated with me. I didn't deserve Rhys, didn't deserve any of them.

It was getting late already, the sun starting its descent behind the mountains casting Velaris in a warm orange glow. Feyre spotted me first through the open window of their shared home and waved at me to come in. Rhys was just a few feet behind her, holding baby Nyx close to his chest. They looked so happy, if not albeit a bit tired due to the still new parenting dynamic. A smile cut its way through my lips at the scene.

"Y/N, back already?" The High Lady smiled warmly at me. I returned the gesture.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to Rhys about something." I said approaching them and placing a kiss atop Nyx's raven hair. I waved the box of sweets in front of Rhysand's nose. "Has Azriel showed up?"

"No, why?" He asked, snatching the box from my hands with a childish grin and handling the babe to his mate.

I waved a hand in dismissal. He motioned for me to follow him into his office and out to the open balcony overviewing the river.

"What 's going on?"

"Well, we— I didn't found anything that could track back to the missing fae,"

"I sense there's a but somewhere in there.." He said, cocking an eyebrow.

"But…it felt wrong. There was something strange going on. I'm sorry I don't have any proof to offer you, it was a waste of time."

He frowned. "It could happen, we weren't certain about it. We'll keep looking, you’re going to catch them." Rhys opened the box, throwing some sweets into his mouth and then offered me some. “You’re not here just for the mission, are you? I’m guessing either this is some kind of bribe or you’re trying to soften the blow.”

I gave him a half smile, bracing my hands on the railing. His own smile faltered for a moment and concern latched onto his features. “I should brace myself for the blow then,” he commented, resting his back on the railing next to me and searching for my face.

“It’s not that…” I murmured, still not looking directly at him. “You know I love you, right?”

“If you’re going to confess now, please remember my mate is next door” he joked.

“Ass.” I nudged in the ribs with an elbow. Rhys chuckled to himself.

“I love you too, idiot. What 's going on?”

I let out a small sigh. How was I supposed to approach the subject? I have never been good with words and there was so much to tell.

“I mean it, Rhys. You’re my family, you and Feyre, Mor, Cass, Amren…all of you. I’ve never had that, you know? a true family” I glanced at him at last. “I’m sorry if in my excitement I crossed a boundary that I shouldn’t have crossed. I know I’m not your sister, and I will never be her, nor do I intend to occupy her place in your heart. I just… never knew how much I wanted to belong somewhere until I met you guys.”

He frowned deeply. His whole demeanor was serious now.

“Where is this coming from Y/N? Of course you’re not my sister, she’s been gone for a long time. But you still are my family, you’re my sister in every way that counts except for blood. I don’t understand what my dead sister has to do with anything.”

I shook my head, already regretting my choice of words.

“You give me way more than what I deserve… I think it’s time for me to really earn my living.”

“Let me see if I understand correctly. You think you don’t deserve your life here, your home, your job, your friends. Because that should’ve belonged to my sister? Who told you that?”

My eyes shut and I breathed deeply through my nose. I didn’t mean to offend him. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but I can't help feeling like I'm living off of you, of your money.”

“You’re not using my money, you’re using your money. The one you’ve earned by putting your life on the line every single time for us, whenever I asked. You’re not my charity project, you’re my family, and I owe you just as much. So let me ask you again, who put such ideas in your head?”

“No one Rhys. I had that thought in the back of my mind for a while now and when an opportunity had presented itself I just…I don’t want to be a burden.”

Rhys relaxed his shoulders a bit, and put a hand atop my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“A couple of months ago Hellion offered me a position in his court and told me to think about it, it is mine if I want it. I could finally have my own place, and I would still visit you here”

“I can’t tell you not to take it if that’s what you really want, what would make you happy. But don’t do it for the wrong reasons. Everything you have here, you’ve earned it. The only thing I’m offering you for free is my friendship, I don’t think you’re a replacement for my sister, you are your own person and we all love you for you. So please, get that ridiculous idea that you’re a burden out of your thick skull.” He pinched my cheek affectionately, my throat felt tight. “ And as for Hellion… think about it thoroughly, at least stay until Solstice, would you do that for me?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. His eyes were always so gentle on me, so understanding.

“Alright.” I mused.

Soft knocks sounded from behind us and Feyre poked her head through the half-open door. “Sorry to interrupt you guys but Azriel is here, says it's urgent.”

Rhys cut a glance at me as if to make sure I was fine before he let the Shadowsinger in. I knew that Rhys suspected about us, about the mating bond, but I never told him and he never asked. My relationship with Azriel has always been strained and Rhysand could absolutely tell it was hurting me, but as long as I wouldn’t bring it up he’d stay out of it. And I appreciated that.

Feyre nodded behind her and fully opened the door to let the Shadowsinger inside. His posture was rigid, wings tucked tight as his eyes fell upon me. “You were right.” He uttered. “I found something back in Spring.”

I willed my face into neutrality, there was no way in Hell I would let him see how much his words had affected me. “What is it?”

"I found a caravan of females of different ages set to be transported through the river. I broke them free but there was no sign of their captors, however I think there’s something you should see.” Azriel’s face was stoic as ever, revealing nothing about the mission nor our previous conflict.

I turned to Rhysand once more, “We should go check on them, but Rhys we can’t leave them there. They will strike again, I’m sure of it, and we can’t count on Tamlin either. No one has heard a word of him in months.”

“We can’t exactly bring an entire court to The Shelter Y/N, those females, they have families. Despite Tamlin being missing, there are still rules and accords with the other courts. It won’t look good. The other High Lords won’t look the other way if we just trespass the borders and start to bring people into our court or if we leave sentinels in there, they will take it as an act of defiance, of me trying to expand these lands and my rule on them.” He had an apologetic look on his face, ever the wise High Lord considering every possible outcome.

I knew he was right and I would not get mad at him. Still, it frustrated me to no end.

I chewed on my bottom lip trying to come up with a solution, at least until we found the slavers.

“What if I talked to Eris?” I offered. “Maybe we could station a small patrol near the border with Autumn under his discretion, maybe he could put some of his own sentinels on guard duty.”

Azriel snorted. “You trust Eris?”

“It is better than nothing Azriel, what do you propose?” I asked, eyebrows high and tone bitter.

The Shadowsinger opened his mouth to reply but Rhys's voice cut him off before we got engaged in another fight yet again. "Let me deal with Eris. You go talk to them, learn whatever you can about what happened to them and report back. You two are stuck there until I sort it out with Eris. Lay low, no one can know of your presence other than the survivors. Be extremely careful."

We both nodded our agreement, not daring another word. I moved past Azriel to the door and he followed closely behind. I could feel his body heat almost enveloping me, he was way too close to be casual.

"If you're worried about what I told Rhysand, I left your name out of it. I took full responsibility for it.”

“Why?” He side-glanced at me. I shrugged.

“Because I’m tired of explaining myself. If you want to get into an argument with me then go ahead, I won’t bother with it. You can go tell him whatever you please.”

I couldn’t be bothered to try and hide the tiredness of my body and mind out of my face. Two whole centuries of this, insulting each other, hurting each other, it was enough. I’ll handle anything he decides to throw at me but I’m done fighting back.

Azriel, to my surprise, didn’t say anything as we walked into the open night.

The night sky had already settled around the city, covering it with its black and dark blue mantle of flickering stars. In my two hundred years of life I had never encountered a more beautiful sight than the one Velaris offered. The Day Court surely will be a huge change, away from everything, from my family and friends, from my favorite cafés and galleries, from the whisper of the quiet darkness that had accompanied me my whole life.

I tore my eyes away from it, ready to winnow; I could feel Azriel’s stare fixed on my face.

“I’ll fly us there.” He offered so low it could have been dragged away with the wind.

“There’s no need for that.”

“You’re tired. Better save some energy, just in case.”

I turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, and could have mistaken the look on his eyes for concern if I didn’t know him any better. “What did you find there, Azriel?”

Hazel orbs moved to my left wrist, swift, smooth; I wrapped my hand around it almost unconsciously, and brought my arm to my chest, hiding it from his view.

“The females in the caravan, they have the same mark you have on your skin.”

The small crow that had been burned and scarred onto my wrist, branded. My back went rigid. It couldn’t be who I was thinking, that monster died that horrible night two centuries ago. It had to be an imitator, some kind of joke.

The shadowsinger placed a tentative hand on my elbow and brought me out of my own head. I yanked it back from his touch. “Let's go, I want to see it.” Was my only reply.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Azriel.

Your whole demeanor had changed the moment he brought up that hideous mark, a reminder of the haunting past. He didn’t have the full story but given your reaction, and the looks on those fae he had freed, it hadn’t been a personal choice.

Azriel felt bad for being an asshole to you earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter an apology. He hadn’t always been like this, but it was already too late to take it back. You irritated him to no end, the way your scent would flow up his nose and never leave him, day and night it would invade his senses, clouding his mind with that unique water lilies and lemon zest smell of yours. And that big full mouth? always ready to retort to him. Nobody had ever possessed such an innate ability to get under his skin as easily as you did. It made him so mad he could tear at his own hair in frustration.

Still, deep down, Azriel knew that most of his anger wasn't of your doing, not on purpose at least. He would find the tiniest of excuses to keep you out and away from him, not being ready to face the full truth as to why you affected him so much. You always did. It was easier to just dislike you.

But in those extremely rare moments when you would let a sliver of a true emotion show around him, his resolve trembled. And the tightness he felt in his chest was much harder to ignore.

You were silent the whole flight to the Spring Court, something akin to pain haunted your eyes. He didn’t dare speak about it, but something in his stomach twisted at that look.

For the past hour or so he watched you silently as you talked to the females, inspecting them for injuries aside from the branding, asking them about their captors and being extremely patient with them. A little girl even came up to you, eyelashes wet with tears and begged you to find her mother. Azriel caught the way your face twisted into a grim, even if to the little girl you looked confident enough that you were gonna reunite her with her mother. She had clung to you for the rest of the night until she felt asleep.

You had a heart, and a kind soul beyond his comprehension, even if he wanted to convince himself that you didn't. It was a lie. He used to tell himself that you were nothing but Hewn City filth, that no one good could ever come out of that place and you would betray them all eventually. Yet there was Mor. And yet, you were here.

Mor, he hadn't thought about her in a while, not like he used to. He'd like to think the lovely doe-eyed female back home was somehow responsible for it...but he wouldn't dare dig into it much deeper. Somehow his mind always found a way to trick him, bringing thoughts about that other person he couldn't stand. It was not alright to compare.

Azriel snapped back to reality as you moved to approach him, leaving the little girl under the care of an elderly villager. Even in her slumber, she made grabby hands at your receding figure.

"She seemed kinda reluctant in letting you go." He observed. The barely there ghost of a smile tugged at your lips but it was short lived and maybe, just maybe, he could have imagined it. "I didn't know you had a soft spot for children."

You sighed softly, tiredly, as you walked beside him to your guarding spot for the night. He did notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you tried and failed to keep your shoulders from sagging, and was about to offer to just take the guard himself when you spoke.

"Children are very rare, and precious. It is a blessing to be able to connect with them." Your voice, albeit quiet, was charged with emotion. He thought that was as far as the conversation would go, but you swallowed and after a couple of heartbeats in silence, you spoke again. "I had a little sister once. She reminded me of her."

Maybe it was the rawness and vulnerability of the current situation at hand that had you sharing a little bit with him. Maybe you were so exhausted that you couldn't stop the thoughts from spilling from your lips. Whatever it was, it also compelled him to listen.

"What happened?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him the saddest, tight lip smile he ever saw you wear and something tugged at his very core. "We were born at the wrong place."

He had judged you wrong, took you up for a cruel, dark creature, never once stopping to think about what you may have endured while you still lived at the Court of Nightmares. Azriel knew it was only a reflection of what he thought of himself.

He didn’t dare ask about the mark on your wrist, not yet. It felt too personal, and he doubted you would have shared it with him anyways.

"Listen about earlier..." He started an apology. Voice a little gruff.

But you cut him out, pinning him with an icy stare, took up the spot on the nearby tree, and didn't talk to him again.

Tag list:

@valeridarkness @hannzoaks @fall-myriad @goradgirl @cmay25

@feiwelinchen @katherine-2007 @anniebannanie0315 @cosmic-whispers @acotarxx

Hope I didn’t forget anyone. Thank you for reading :)

#azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #Azriel #azriel x you #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar series #acotar #rhys acotar #feysand #acowar

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wren-dy-flowergarden · 1 month

Text

TWST (Mafia!AU + Bodyguard!AU)

If you realize the characters have no relatability to each other (other than the twins), you are correct. Because I just used a "spin the wheel" to pick characters to write lollllll.

Since I am trying to get back into writing, requests are OPEN. No limit. Pls fill it with what you like, no promises I will write everything though :D

I also wanted to write something more dark...pls read tags just in case!

TW: !yandere content, possessive behavior, mentions of slight blood, dark underlying themes, reader is a jewelry heiress, not be'tad

Mafia!AU Floyd Leech

Mafia!Floyd Is a little too good at his job. Frankly, his boss gets quite frustrated with the amount of bodies brought home. It says dead or alive doesn’t it? Why should it matter what happens to these small frys.

So when he sees your pretty face on the next hit, he licks his lips in delight. What a treat. Though, the boss did say to keep this one fresh. Little blood is not bad, too much, and it causes some problems.

So when Floyd sees you on a park bench across the street. You’re…normal compared to the others. They are greasy, bastards flaunting around their beer bellies with women cradled in their arms compared to the pen in your hand tapping against white paper.

Floyd wants to see where this will go. His boss said to handle you with ‘care’. The moment you see him, you freeze almost like a fish out of water, or maybe like those small shrimps he sees in the fish tank run for cover as a predator approaches. Nothing like those pompous asses who wanted all fight, no talk.

You are so much fun! As Floyd smiles, holding out an eraser.

“You dropped this little shrimpy.”

Mafia!AU Idia Shroud

Mafia!Idia never, ever, ever works in front of the house! No! Never! He rather stayed in the operating room filled with the comfort of blue light from his multiple monitors. Never missing an angle, never missing a moment, eyes glued onto the screen, because that is what he is good at.

Not when he has to escort you into their headquarters. Also, why the hell are you here? You are just the rich, tiny, heiress of a multi billion xx company; couldn’t you be placed with someone more- energetic (not chronically online person who never sees the sun).

How the hell is he supposed to start a conversation with you? Boss said to be an excellent host–why is he the one hosting the hostage!? You walk with more poise than him, your heels clicking on the floor as he shuffles.

You are pretty though… Small lips, big doe eyes with furrowed eyebrows taking in your surroundings. Even your bare shoulders, exposed thin collar bone with dazzling gems draped across your neck, are shivering whether because of the cold?

Be a good host…be a decent host, Idia repeats in his head. The next thing he knows he is throwing his long jacket at your head where you make a noise similar to an ‘ump’.

“W-w-wear that till we m-meet the boss! Hostages can’t get s-s–sick.”

Bodyguard!AU Jade Leech

Bodyguard!Jade where his smile leaves goosebumps on your skin. It's the way his eyes glimmer, his teeth a bit too sharp to be normal, the way his body lurks over you like a second shadow waiting to swallow you whole.

But…he is good at his job– ridiculously good for a man your father found off the street on a whim. The way he is diligent in his motions, gently offering his hand as you exit the limo his gaze piercing through every paparazzi, a gloved hand guides you by the small of your back through the entrance.

Your bodyguard Jade who lowers himself to the ground before you to place designer heels on your feet. It would be a lovely gesture if it weren’t for the small red marks underneath the sole…

Jade is good at his job. He keeps you protected, prudent of your lifestyle and satisfied; but, there is this feeling where you feel almost…smothered? No–submerged by his attentiveness as if you are barely keeping your head above water before a predator pulls you down.

He is right in front of your face as you wake up from your daze. His off set eyes shine in amusement as he offers his gloved hand which you take in habit. It feels damp.

“It’s almost time for your debut. Shall we?”

Bodyguard!AU Silver

Bodyguard!Silver makes you realize you are more of a bodyguard than him. At least you can stay awake. When you find him huddled against a corner of your workplace for the nth time in the last week, you break down and buy a blanket. His porcelain face makes no change as you carefully drape the plush wool over his back. Long eyelashes and smooth snow hair cradles his features.

You're about to brush a stray hair from his cheek but before even a finger graces him, your back hits the concrete floor. Wrists tightly pinned over your head. Your heart is beating in your chest, maybe from the surprise, maybe from the way silver eyes pierce into yours as he asses you with sleep in his eyes. It’s over in an instance as your bodyguard's face filled with shock and embarrassment as he releases you, apologies spilling out of his mouth.

You rub your wrists. Usually that will be an immediate fire for you. Hurting clients, sleeping on the job; but, Silver is unusually fast. Faster than any of the previous bodyguards your father had hired for you. And his eyes…iridescent opal, it is as beautiful as the jewels you collect.

Your hand to cradle his face, there would be some bruises forming across your wrists but nothing a pair oIn a soft voice y lace gloves could fix. You tell him it's alright, accidents happen, that one miniscule mistake isn’t enough for you to eget rid of him. He breaths out, anxiety still shakesungs as he gulps, nodding his head pure opals staring right at you,

“I’m sorry, it will never happen again my lady”

#.wwrenwrites #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst x reader #yandere #floyd x reader #twst floyd #twst idia #idia x reader #twst jade #jade x reader #twst silver #silver x reader #not usually what I write #I write re2 content if I actually beat the game but I am a wimp

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serenit-teas · 7 months

Text

This is the product of too much brainrot and an almost concerning level of needing to ramble.

Major spoilers for Lies of P under the cut!!

Okay but just imagine, someway somehow being young friends with Carlo, sweet and darling childhood friends. Being his partner in crime, an unwilling (so you say) accomplice to any mischievous schemes he's cooked up. Racing about the streets of Krat, dodging this way and that, weaving through the alleyways and corners with a second natured ease due to each and every prior antic you two have had.

I imagine that only after narrowly dodging the poor soul who gave chase to you both has finally given up, does Carlo turn to you, a cheeky but rosy grin thrown your way. You can only huff and turn your head, complaining at once again being dragged into another one of his hair brained plots. 'This is the final straw', you think to yourself, 'no more of these chases'. Always the voice of reason you called yourself, the only one who cares enough to keep the two of you out of scuffles and minimizing consequences. The other half of your duo would simply angle his brows, matched with a boyish smile, brown eyes warm, a teasing call of, 'Worry wart', aimed your way.

You'd stay firm in your silence.

Seconds of the silent treatment turns to minutes, and you truly could have lasted longer, but the floor is uncomfortable and your legs are going numb, and it certainly doesn't help that Carlo keeps shuffling around in the already cramped space. You know what he's doing, trying to goad you into breaking your 'punishment' and demanding he knock it off. It takes all you have not to heave a sigh. It truly makes you wonder how you've both become such good friends.

Finally having enough of your hiding spot and the scuffing of Carlo's shoes, you turn your head, relenting. And he's close. Far to close. Clearly he's never once heard of personal space, face in your personal bubble. A startled yelp is ripped from your lips and you scramble back, knocking your back into the wall.

He doesn't have the decency to even attempt to hide his snort of laughter.

A menace to the core, mischievous Carlo.

You want to be peeved, annoyed at his inability to take anything seriously. But you see the joy in his smile and hear the way his laugh rings loud and true, gaze fond and sweet directed your way and soon enough you're laughing as well, giggling and smiling. Stomach aching, 'It hurts' , echoing somewhere in your head. It doesn't matter though, not when your head feels light and your cheeks warm. Tears welling at the corners of your eyes as you gasp for breath.

It's a simple and sweet bond, crafted out of trust and comfort, familiarity and warmth.

The news of his death rattles something terrible in you. A hollow, numbing feeling pools, spreading like tar, thick and heavy in your body. Fog building in your head, an anchor on your tongue. He's died, and with that has taken something of yours with him. They call it 'mourning', you've learned, something people do when a great loss is suffered. Meant to process grief and what was taken far too early. To cope, live on despite.

Whispers of sympathy and prayers permeate the streets, details of the accident are few and talk of honoring his life are fewer. Carlo and his fate hang over the city of Krat.

Haunts you.

Far too young are you to feel such a cruel twist of fate, the unsettling truth of what happens to everyone and everything. Something changes, curdles in your chest when made way to grieve. He's left you behind with the knowledge of the irrefutable.

Hours turn to days which bleed into weeks, and soon tragedy is washed away with the rainstorms that berate the city. Between the haze in your mind and the bustling murmur of the crowded streets, it's a miracle that you hear the call of your name.

He approaches you in the streets little more than a month after the news broke out, a light spring in his step. For a corpse, he seems plenty lively. Bright grin plain as day on his face, freckled cheeks scrunching with that familiar mischief swimming in his blue eyes.

But Carlo is gone. Cold and dead, mourned and missed, and you don't know who this is. You look a little harder, gaze sharper.

Blue. Wrong. Fake.

Get away.

You reel back with your heart thumping wild, ignoring the confusion that shows on his face, tears forming with a barbed response on the tip of your tongue and an awful ringing buzzes in your ears. What a sick joke.

Eyes still glued to the stranger, you step back. Slow at first, timid and careful, all before bolting away, ears picking up on the squawk of surprise sounding behind you.

You don't know where you're going. There's no plan in escape, you just have to get away from whatever that was. You barely have it in you to call out apologies for the people you nearly bump into. Your legs carry you between tall buildings and hidden corners of the streets, ducking and weaving, narrowly avoiding clipping your shoulder on the hard stone and splintering wood. Before you know it, you recognize the similar darkened streets that you had used in your own escapes with Carlo so many times before.

This part of the city was always dim, secluded and safe, street lights had not yet been installed around these areas, much to the frustration of those who lived in these parts. It never took long for a blanket of darkness to fall over the buildings and homes when the sun began it's descent and shadows would set just right.

Heartbeat drumming in your ears and chest aching, you reach blindly, feeling for a wall to lean your weight on. Panting, hunched over and gulping air down like a fish desperate for water. Head numb and mind humming with exhaustion.

'What was that? Some elaborate scheme? A prank?'

Any further thoughts are halted when you notice the pounding of footsteps behind you. Calculated and heavy, he, it, knows where you are. Probably followed you the whole time.

It's close, and with dread making it's home in your veins do you realize that you've nowhere left to go, you've lead yourself to a complete dead end. That fake will round the corner any minute and you'll be a sitting duck.

The sound of footfalls slows the closer it gets, you'd almost call it hesitant if you weren't scared out of your wits. Steps echo between the corridor walls, that awful, full body shake inducing panic shoots through you once more, an ice cold fear nestling deep in your bones.

'Leave me alone. He's gone. Please stop.' Stress plucks at your fears like an instrument, each strum yanks at your heart, leaves you anxious and paralyzed.

Had your heart not been hammering in your chest and pulse thrumming in your fingertips, you'd probably feel much more self conscious about the whimper that leaves your lips, weak and pitiful. Loud. Palms fly to your mouth, your hands clamping tight with a sting. Eyes screwing shut in fear.

The steps halt altogether, the only sounds you can register is the beat of your heart and the shallow, rapid breaths leaving your lips. It's cramped and cold where you are, jagged stone digging into your back.

A few feet away you hear a breath catch in someone's throat, and like earlier, a call of your name, only this time it's said with as much tenderness as a lullaby. Gentle. Soothing. Your eyes twitch just for a moment. It's unfair, using Carlo's voice like that. You know if you look there will be no going back, no denying what's happening.

You hear the call of your name ring out one more time, small and fragile, and you open your eyes.

There he stands, confusion clear on his face, brows loosely raised and lips set into a small frown. Taking your subtle acknowledgment as encouragement it looks as if he intends to close the distance between you, though the hope is quickly dashed when he sees you scramble at his advance, pushing yourself as far as you can go into the corner furthest away from him. You remind him of a wounded animal, an uncomfortable feeling clambers in his chest at the thought and his frown deepens.

A different approach is what he goes for this time, slowly, at a snail's pace, does he reach his arm out. Even in your manic state you still manage to toss an incredulous look his way, taking every bit of his common sense and resolve to not laugh at the expression. He'll gladly take whatever he can get, he'd do anything to prevent that fearful gleam in your eyes, squash any chance of being the cause of it himself.

You both stay in this standstill for what feels to be an eternity, eyes locked and unwavering, waiting to see who will crack first. A genuine gasp leaves his lips when he sees you reach out, shaking fingertips lightly brushing against his own. This is your call, he will follow your lead in this dance.

Finally, you stand to your full height and at a much slower pace does he do the same, and then you're back to staring at him, eyes flicking about his person this way and that, analysing everything. Normally he'd say you're overreacting, call you a 'worrier ' and be done with it, but he knows better. You've changed, something has happened to you in his month's absence and he doesn't like it one bit, you stare at him like he's a stranger, ran as if he'd flashed a weapon from underneath his sleeve.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he barely catches what you've said to him, mind struggling to put the puzzle pieces together. Ever the merciful out of your duo, you repeat yourself,

"What are you?".

'Huh.'

(Basically!!!! What if Carlo still perished, and P was still built to replace him, and Geppetto, in a frantic and guilt ridden haze builds a new son at an astounding speed, and with using such a, uh, 'fresh' Ergo leads to P 'waking up' nearly instantaneously. So rather than being a puppet becoming human, P is a 'human' coming to terms with what he actually is.

This is all over the place, but I imagine Geppetto would keep P's interactions with others to a definitive minimum, if P ever asked about it Geppetto would chalk it all up to his son being weakened so severely by his accident that he would need near constant supervision to maintain his health. Tells P that Ergo is what is keeping him alive, it's why his eyes are now blue and how he can wield the weighty legion arm with such ease.

Only a trusted few are allowed to know of his existence. I mean? The entire city mourned his son, he can't exactly have an almost carbon copy strolling about the streets. Reader is probs not at the top of Geppetto's 'can tell list' lol. I'm fully leaning into the idea that Carlo/P snuck out and went absolutely wild looking their bud lmao. Poor fella doesn't know that visiting reader is gonna come with a side of confusion and an unwanted existential crisis/soul searching😔

And final thing! I have not finished Lies of P, nor have I even reached a single ending (but I'm making progress every day! <:) ), so I apologize if any details are choppy, confusing, or don't align with what is canon! I don't know how Carlo died, and I do not wish to be spoiled, this was just a fun sort of AU(?) thought that just kept snowballing ^^; Thank you everyone for your time, I sincerely hope this wasn't too much of a mess, and that it was at least an entertaining read! <:) )

#lies of p carlo #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #writing post #augh goodness im so so scared to post this ^^;#i havent written in months and this is the most substantial thing ive posted on tumblr in YEARS #I need to steel myself ive been working on this thing since 2:06 pm yesterday and it is currently!!!! 4:56 am!!! girl get help!!!#writers i lomf yall so much how?? do you bring your thoughts and feelings and ideas into cohesive words i am asking for a friend #chels mumbles #chels writes #😳

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boyfridged · 1 year

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Regarding Jason's pre-crisis characterization, would you say that he really is just a carbon copy of Dick or did he eventually grow into his own character in the span of his run time? Also, would you recommend it to a Jason fan to read about his pre-crisis days?

i don't think pre-crisis jay has ever been a carbon copy of dick actually! i know it's a popular opinion but frankly speaking, i think people who say that either have not read his pre-crisis run at all or have not cared enough to understand the story.

the fact that pre-crisis jason’s origin and background (in major ways, but not 1:1, that’s also a misconception) mirrors that of dick was not “lazy writing” and it’s not some sign of the general silliness and carelessness of the editorial of the times. it was very much a conscious, well-thought-through decision.

let me break this down (so that it doesn't become another essay):

to make it clear before i get into anything else: jay's background being so similar to that of dick is actually a way to set up a story about their differences. despite sharing so much experience, there are some key variables in both their origins and personalities that the writers clearly wanted to bring readers' attention to. i will circle back to it later.

i reckon a lot of dc fans who never actually got to read these issues have this misconception that the death of the pre-crisis todds was an exact parallel to that of the flying graysons. however, jason’s parents do not die in a way that dick’s parents do; in fact, joseph and trina todd die while aiding dick in an investigation after he requested their help (this is also why dick later says that he would take care of jason have bruce not offered; he feels guilty for their demise.) this is a deeply fascinating concept tbh, because the todds are like collateral damage to vigilantism; sacrificial lambs, and dick is responsible for it, leaving another orphan on the scene. it's a full cycle!

it was also a smart way for jason to enter the narrative this way because it gave him a link to his predecessor. unlike post-crisis, jason’s first contact is dick, which makes sense, because it’s a story about robin (as a disclaimer: the way post-crisis alters it is also sensible for the plot it tries to convey; but these are two various storylines, approached from a much different angle!)

and pre-crisis jay is a very much different character from dick since day one. dick projects on him vehemently, giving him the robin mantle (once jay tries out different identities btw), which jason accepts as a gesture of love but also dreads. he struggles with the concept of vigilantism from the start, while everyone around him assumes that this is simply the way things go because his circumstances are so similar to that of both dick and bruce. he has a seriously tough time trying to reconcile with the concept of dual identities. he questions bruce's motives and actions a lot more than both dick in his early days and post-crisis jason. he stares numbly at the wall after his first patrol. he voices his concerns.

here i also want to say, that while i absolutely do think everyone should read these stories, and there are some storylines that can be incorporated into post-crisis jay canon, it doesn't hurt to consider which of them do not fit into it at all.

post-crisis and pre-crisis jay have completely different backgrounds, and since pre-crisis jay has been brought up in a rather safe and stable environment, as i mentioned, he's much more confident in questioning bruce. on the contrary, post-crisis jay seems to be so delighted to be having an adult at all that his faith in batman is almost absolute (for most of his robin run at least.)

as i said, pre-crisis jay is also much more aware of the duality of the vigilante life. as a former performer, he says that it feels disappointing to know that none of the people whom he helps will know his name, and he is used to having an audience (he is aware that it is a selfish sentiment.) this is not a thing that post-crisis jay considers at all.

i also imagine that post-crisis jay would never tell bruce the (famous) words that he would be perfectly happy to be just his son and not his sidekick (which he does pre-crisis); not because the truth is different but because he doesn't fully comprehend that it's an option. post-crisis robin jay's compartmentalisation is barely existent if at all; bruce "gave him" robin even before he took him in, so the roles of a son & sidekick are almost one and the same for him, which is why i'd say the events of a death in the family occur at all (he "failed" as robin -> he runs away to find another parent).

and well. pre-crisis jay actually has friends. his world does not begin and end with his role as gotham's protector and hope. speaking of which, he also does not possess the same passionate relationship with gotham as post-crisis jay does.

there are of course many traits they share – i'd say they both have even more sympathy for criminals and an even stronger of belief in rehabilitation than bruce does. they are also both, in a way, a victim of the cycle in the family and projection – bruce (and pre-crisis, dick) assume that the way of dealing with grief is to go out into combat, which is not necessarily true for them. but ironically, i think, it's post-crisis jay who remains more innocent and is easy-going in the way he initially settles into the role.

ultimately, i think all batfamily fans should read pre-crisis robin jay's run because it's perhaps the only run that takes adoption and the topic of legacies seriously. and it's before the editorial and writers decided that batman having a child was lame, and that robin's role was just CA, so bruce is truly parenting. while pre-crisis bruce is much more of a sweetheart than post-crisis bruce is, so it may not all seem "realistic" for contemporary characterisation, it still gives a good idea of what a plotline about bruce being a parent could and should look like. i'm not going to lie to you, post-crisis jay's run feels seriously loveless compared with pre-crisis. pre-crisis, there's plenty of family tensions, and at times it appears that no one in this damn family understands each other, and yet there's so much fondness and care and desperate declarations of belonging. pre-crisis jay's story is genuinely, from the very beginning, a story about a child whose parents die entangled in a vigilante's investigation and who is thrown into a family of vigilantes, projected onto from all sides, and who tries to fill in shoes he never truly asked for in the first place. but dear god is there tenderness there. is there self-awareness and a serious attempt to conceive what taking over a mantle of a sidekick means. yeah. much more than it is in post-crisis.

#thank you for opportunity to talk about pre-crisis #because. truly from the bottom of my heart. it's such a good run. SO SO good.#back when dc used to say things that were true and beautiful #<- old man (23) getting sentimental over good ol' times (he wasn't even alive back then.)#dc #jay.zip #jay.txt #jason todd #core texts #pre-crisis

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itoshi-s · 1 year

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*escapes from jail* street racer! rin taking you in the back seat of his car with your legs thrown over his shoulders until the expensive leather is soaked with the slick of filthy, post-race frenzy sex

RIVER !!!! U CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS :((((((((((((((((((( the way i am sooo dizzy thinkin abt this i hope it throws u back into the street racer thot hours bc thats what u deserve for riling me up !!!!!!! >___<

street racer! rin who's well known not only for his smooth drifting and steel concentration on the roads, but also for his foul mouth and short fuse. his temper isn't something to be toyed with - but sometimes, these newbies just don't know about it (which seems impossible, given his authority among the streets that makes everyone shudder) or are simply dumb, with the way they want to try and rile him up.

street racer! rin, who already has the worst frown etched into his sharp features, doors of his metallic navy chevrolet courvette slamming as he get out of the drivers seat. he's tall n strapping as he approaches the other car, a glitter to his turquoise eyes and perspiration gleaming along the back of his neck. there's a crazed look in his eyes, adrenaline steaming off him in waves as he nearly hauls the other guy out of the vehicle. "that's how you want to fucking play? huh? fuck right off. son of a bitch." he snarls, slams the guy (who, by the way, looks no older than nineteen - but the ravenette doesn't seem to care) against the side of the car and gets ready to swing.

street racer! rin, who does many not necessarily favorable things - but when he wants his dopamine rush, he does it fair. he knows that his way of getting his fill is dangerous enough - and that there's a pair of open, warm arms and lovesick eyes waiting for him back in his roppongi penthouse - or, if he gets lucky, standing by the finish line and looking out for him to reach it first. that's why no matter how good it feels, he makes sure to come back to you in one place. and no fucking dipshit trying to play dirty, purposely getting way too close to grazing the rear of his sportscar and trying to leave it tumbling to the side, will get away for stopping him.

street racer! rin, who lands the first punch that's enough to leave the kid stumbling to the side, blood splattering onto the concrete, but the white noise dies down as soon as he feels sharp nails digging into his bicep - a familiar voice reaching his ears. he whips around, frenzied eyes searching for yours, and it's almost visible, the way his shoulders slump and broad frame relaxes upon the sight of you. "stop it," you breathe, heat still red on your cheeks as you drag him away, instead grabbing his face to pull him down for a messy, needy kiss. he nearly groans against your mouth, hands firmly resting on your ass to pull your frame as close to his as it can physically get. "y'won. made me proud, as always." you whisper, hot against his parted lips - and the cold sweat that crashes down his body is better than anything he's ever felt.

street racer! rin, who has you folded in half in his backseat barely fifteen minutes later. deep grunts bounce off the fogged up windows, air thick with lust and the leather squeaks as your clammy skin drags along it. his pace is relentless, hips rutting up into yours so heavily it makes your head spin and thighs burn from the way he has you spread so nicely - hamstrings pressed flush against his chest, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pushing your ass higher up, creating an angle that makes you cry. "mhm- just like that. fuck." it's low and guttural, searing on your skin as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your jaw, already bruised with his need and affection. "my good luck charm. knew you'd be there." he snaps his hips against yours, tilts his pelvis so that his cock buries so deep in your cunt, you almost feel him in your guts. you whimper and give him a teary eyed look as well as an urgent nod, at loss of words from the rough treatment he gives. "couldn't pass up on seein' me like that. on being a sleeve f'me. right?" your mouth falls agape in a muffled sob, eyes rolling backwards and back arching as the head of his cock nudges your cervix. unsatisfied with the lack of verbal answer, he grabs at your jaw, fingers digging into the bone, and looks at you - "right?" he repeats, but this time, there's a desperation to his baritone that pulls the trigger and leaves you babbling. yes, rinnie, all - all f'you, baby. wanted t'see you so bad, need you so much.

street racer! rin who is absolutely smitten with you - his prettiest arm candy, the most passionate lover, and future wife that he'd be ready to drop this fucking racing nonsense for, if you ever did as little as ask. rin, who plows you into the seats for hours more, leaves the leather soaked through with your filth - and knows that you're the only thing that gets him higher than all of this.

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zushimart · 10 months

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ch. 1/teaser of a m!spiderman!reader x civilian!scara fic. let me know if it should be a one-shot or a multi-part piece.

irritation itches at him like ants. he can feel them crawling up his leg, so he taps his foot to shake them off, but the pressure of his frustration builds with every unanswered b-r-r-ring of his phone.

his stupid personalized voicemail, scara thinks as y/n’s sorry-for-missing-your-call recording plays. “you’ve reached y/n! sorry i didn’t pick up –” scara ends the call before trying again. voicemail, again.

“why doesn’t he ever answer the fucking phone?” he almost shouts, turning a few heads in the crowded café they managed to steal a table at. every missed call is an additional life sentence, and y/n’s up to five. scara jams his finger on the screen for a sixth time, but signora snatches the phone out of his hands.

“would you quit it?” signora groans, rubbing at her temples. “he’s not gonna answer.”

a barista cleaning beside them slaps childe’s legs in a bid to get his feet off the table. he drops them to the floor as he opens his mouth, “he probably missed his train or something,” he says, pulling out his own phone.

scara sits up in his chair and blinks at the both of them, an uncanny look of disbelief on his face. “why don’t you care that he’s screwing us over?” he asks before lunging for his phone. signora leans back, keeping it out of reach just to watch the way he almost falls out of his chair for it.

he rightens himself as signora counters, “or maybe it just isn’t worth it to care?” she taunts him with a lazy hand, waving his phone in front of his face after he’s given up. his eyes narrow. “calling him a sixth time isn’t gonna make him magically appear,” she points out.

“yeah, and it’s not like he’s really flaking,” childe says with a shrug. “he just doesn’t show up to the group meetings. that’s fine by me if his slides look good.”

“true, like, he’s doing the work,” signora agrees, reaching over to take a sip of her latte.

scara’s face sours, but he falls quiet. they sit for another minute in a cease-fire before he opens his mouth again. “a-are you guys not like… worried about him?” he asks, approaching from another angle.

signora chokes on her drink as childe’s eyes widen, turning their heads to stare at him owlishly. “what?” they ask in unison.

scara stiffens, crossing his arms to give himself a hug. “like!” he bursts, “like, he’s been kinda… absent lately,” he points out, avoiding eye contact. “and scattered and stuff. isn’t he? like, it’s not just me who’s noticed, right?”

they give him another slow blink.

“why are you two acting like that?” scara blurts.

“sorry, it’s just weird to see you care,” signora says. childe nods.

“yeah, weird,” he echoes.

“i thought you were stressed about the project since the deadline’s coming up,” she says.

“project, mhm,” childe continues to parrot.

“but you’re actually just thinking about y/n,” signora almost giggles.

“thinking about y/n!” childe says triumphantly before processing the implication behind signora’s fluttering lashes and sly smile. “oh,” he says, “thinking about y/n…” he repeats a little softer.

scara’s face blooms red like a flower as he bites his lip. “i care about my friends,” he says in self-defense.

“you’re right, though. he has been acting weird,” signora remarks. “maybe he got a girlfriend or something.”

scara falters at the speculation. “you think?” he asks.

“woah, that would make sense with the whole disappearing for hours, too shy to say where he’s been thing…” childe gives weight to her theory.

scara shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “do you guys maybe… know who he would be seeing?” he asks, painful curiosity piercing through his mask of disinterest.

signora eyes him up and down. “what’s it to ya?”

“nothing. you know what? it doesn’t even matter —

“no way,” signora gasps. “i was just teasing, but you’re actually… you’re actually into him? that loser?”

he laughs nervously, leaning over to put all his strength into yanking their biology textbook from his backpack and slamming it onto the table. childe is fascinated by the range of emotions signora manages to pull from their stoic friend, continuing to pester him with questions that he swats out of the air like flies.

“hi guys!” a familiar voice says from the door, stumbling over to their table with a backpack that’s about to burst at the seams. the boy looks like he’s been running around the city from the way he’s panting. he wipes the sweat from his forehead before zipping a jacket (way too thick for the heat they’re in) up to his throat. “i’m here,” he says, pulling out his phone before his eyes widen. “woah, five missed calls. my bad.”

and for all his previous fuming, scara remains silent. he doesn’t even lift his head, keeping his nose stuck to the pages of their textbook, eyes reading nothing as they scan over rows of dna sequences.

signora and childe send a glance in each other’s direction before scooting over in the booth to make space for y/n. childe shoots her a whisper, “what are we gonna do about this?”

“um…” signora hums as y/n ignores the space they’ve made for him, choosing to grab an empty chair and shove it beside scara’s before giving childe a fistbump and a grin. “i think they might be fine, actually,” she whispers back.

“what are you two gossiping about?” y/n asks, leaning over to ruffle scara’s hair, earning him a painful shove to the stomach.

“none of your business,” she says, rolling her eyes.

a hefty two hours of work later, childe reminds the three he has to slip out for teucer’s hockey game. the group agrees to reconvene later in the week to practice their presentation.

“then i’m going home,” scara says.

“i-i can walk you to the station… if you want,” y/n offers nervously, “since we’re going in the same direction anyway,” he tacks on. signora shoots a look at scara that he ignores, pretending to be busy organizing his backpack. childe gives y/n a shove to his shoulder as a makeshift goodbye, but continues to toss curious looks over his shoulder on his way out.

“he’ll walk with you,” signora answers for scara, grabbing the backpack in his lap and shoving it towards y/n. he slips his arms through the loops and carries it like a baby. “oh, and,” signora says, adjusting her crossbody bag and putting her sunglasses atop her head, “he has something to talk to you about,” she says before following childe to the door, heels clicking on the grimey, tiled floor.

“what’s that about?” y/n asks. scara doesn’t answer, letting his chair scrape against the floor with a screech as he stands up. “scara?” the keychains on scara’s belt jangle as he begins to walk towards the door, giving y/n no choice but to follow. “scara, are you mad about the being late thing? i’m really sorry. you know how i am… island time, or whatever! s’why i’m always missing the train and stuff…” he says, stumbling after him into the streets. the sun is setting, but an ever-bustling crowd stuffs the sidewalks despite the descending darkness.

the two weave through slow-walkers, coming to a sudden stop at a busy intersection. scara grabs the back of y/n’s bookbag to keep him from falling into the road. he tuts, “you’re not telling me something.”

“whaaat?” y/n asks, voice pitching high as he draws out the syllables. “i tell you everything.” he tacks on an awkward laugh for good measure. “it’d be easier to tell you what i haven’t told you,” he stutters before his eyes widen a little at his own words, “which is NOTHING!” he almost shouts, “obviously…” the crosswalk light turns green.

scara raises his eyebrows, yanking the boy after him by the backpack straps.

“i could tell you about my day, you haven’t heard that yet!” he says. “super uneventful. home all day.”

“be serious.”

“i’m so serious.”

“no, i’m serious,” scara says as they reach the top of the station steps. he turns to look into y/n’s eyes. “and you’re a liar.”

“what?” y/n asks softly.

“home all day?” he asks. “then you wouldn’t even have had to take a train to the café,” he says, pointing down the street to where they both know his apartment building waits.

they both stare at where his finger leads before y/n gives him a nervous laugh.

“i just…” scara starts. “i know something’s up and i’m…” he trails off. “i’m…” he tries again. a second passes. then another. and another. it’s y/n’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

“shut up. i-i’m trying to say it,” scara says, putting a finger up.

y/n nods, “mn, you got it.”

“i’m worried about you,” he finally spits out, looking up to see y/n’s face twisted in an ugly grimace in an attempt to hold back a stupid grin. he wrinkles his nose. “nevermind,” he says, yanking his backpack from his grip.

“no! i’m sorry,” he says, letting go, but taking a step closer to scara. “i-i know… i’m not on time to plans and i’ve been missing a lot of classes and i’m kinda bad at texting back,” he says, “but it’s not you. i promise.”

“i-i don’t think it’s me,” scara cuts in, cheeks pink. “it’s not about me, or anything like that,” he says quickly.

“still, i want you to know that i’m sorry. and that i’m okay,” he says. “i really am.”

scara shakes his head, “yeah… okay,” he says, not giving y/n another look as he trots down the stairs into the subway station. y/n watches the back of his head till he turns the corner, disappearing from view.

he bites his lip in thought before his phone vibrates. a breaking news alert for a neighborhood halfway across the borough. ugh.

#rare he/him reader moment #(<- lying)#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

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