#Are there Heavy Metals in Beauty Items | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

envy-of-the-apple · 1 month ago

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Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.

And you were just extra baggage.

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.

Satoru appears first.

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."

He freezes. You smile at Utahime.

"Could you give us some time?" You ask.

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.

"For what?"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."

"You haven't even given us a chance to-"

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.

And so did Suguru.

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.

"How have you been?" He asks nicely.

"Good." You respond. "You?"

"Good."

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.

But now, you don't have that desire anymore.

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."

Suguru frowns, troubled.

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.

"I love you."

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.

He's miserable.

You did this. This was all you.

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better.

"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.

"But what?" You press.

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.

"You'll see!" You chirp back.

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."

Shoko freezes mid-sip.

"What?" She asks.

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.

"Oh." You breathe.

"Oh." Utahime whispers.

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."

"I thought we were just doing friend things!"

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.

"I-I-" You give up.

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.

"Do you want us?"

You take a deep breath.

You nod.

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.

You break away, panting.

"You good?" She asks.

You nod.

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."

"What?"

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.

Shoko slaps your thigh.

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.

"Awake?" She asks.

"Yeah." You softly say back.

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.

"I'm gonna get food."

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.

"What do you want?" She prompts.

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.

The interaction makes your heart warm.

Still, it can't last.

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.

"And where are you going?" She prods.

You fumble. "Back to my room?"

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."

You laugh.

"That's not a joke." She warns.

"I know." And you kiss her again.

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.

Everything was just perfect.

And then, it just wasn't.

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?

The living room is horrific.

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.

Suguru doesn't even blink.

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.

But you know you aren't expecting...that.

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."

You step back. They step forward.

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."

He smiles again.

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.

The worst part is that everything was your fault.

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak.

"I'm sorry."

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."

Satoru halts. You caught him.

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You missed us?" He wonders.

The lie feels like sand.

"More than anything."

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.

"I'm sorry," you say anyway.

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.

And then, he grins.

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto suguru x reader #dark geto suguru #shoko ieiri x reader #utahime x reader #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #yandere scenarios #shokohime x reader

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4mnji · 7 months ago

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OPPOSITES ATTRACT ᡣ𐭩 goth!choso x coquette!reader

warnings: nothing to heavy just some kissing n ass touching at the end, choso n reader r like 20, abbreviations and lowercases intended, n word usage once, written with a black women in mind but anyone can read ofc 😚

wc: 628

a/n : hihi guysss im nini and welcome to my debut post. this has been sitting in my notes along with some other stuff i’ve written for the longestttt time and im ready to share them to the world now. i hope yall enjoy these hcs of my bbygirl choso :3

goth!choso who’s been well..emo for as long as he can remember. the nigga was 13 years old dressing like rodrick heffley and listening to heavy metal rock music 😭 like he wasn’t playing bout this lifestyle.

goth!choso who always thought that his future gf would’ve been someone who is just as emo and gothic as he was but boy was he wrong.

goth!choso who couldn’t explain why coquette!reader caught his attention so quickly. he’s never been a fan of the cute pink girly aesthetic, not that he hated it but y’all know he been an emo since he basically came out his momma’s womb, so he always preferred if girls had a similar aesthetic to him. all that didn’t even cross his mind when he laid his eyes on u, how could it when u just looked so pretty n cute ???!

goth!choso who wasn’t even planning to approach u and was just going to head home and lie in his bed while reminiscing abt the cute girl he saw in the cafe. that is until u decided to approach him and compliment his outfit. a cute pink blush creeps up onto his cheeks and he doesn’t even get to thank u bc he so busy admiring how beautiful u are. u give him a gorgeous smile and hand him a little note that says “text me •ᴗ•” with ur number on it. with that beautiful smile still plastered on ur face, u wave ‘bye’ to him and walk away.

goth!choso who gets home that day contemplating with his phone in his hand if he should text u or not. after a good 10 mins of pacing around his room and giving himself some motivational talk, he sends u a message and exits the messaging app almost immediately.

goth!choso who’s kinda surprised when u actually respond to his message in less than 2 minutes. from that point on u n choso hit it off from there.

goth!choso who’s been with coquette!reader for almost a year now and he loves u so so much !! he was always more than happy to give u money so u could buy more of those cute lil bows and accessories that u loved wearing or those pink coquette themed decor items that u loved placing all throughout ur apartment. he adored ur obsession with the coquette lifestyle sm. he thought it was so adorable and loved ur dedication towards it.

goth!choso who has grown accustomed to the color pink and even started wearing n buying more pink clothing just so he could match with u sometimes. u knew ur bf wasn’t a huge fan of pink and u always thought he would stick with his dark aesthetic so it made u extremely happy when u saw him frequently starting to wear pink clothing !

goth!choso who has begged u numerous times to try out the emo/gothic style bc he was really curious to see how u would look in it. eventually u caved in and decided to surprise him and got this outfit and wore it to one of ur date nights with him. he couldn’t get over how good u looked and this just confirmed for him that u would always look good no matter what aesthetic u had !! when he took u back to his apartment, he wouldn’t even let yall get through the door before he picked u up, hands rubbing all up on ur ass while he left long sloppy kisses along ur jawline and neck, attempting to take u to his room without bumping into a wall or a piece of furniture.

goth!choso & coquette!reader who r the exact definition of opposites attract !!

moodboards ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

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embbarnes · 1 month ago

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Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#mcu thunderbolts #mcu thunderbolts*#winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #emwrites🌿

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fanaticsnail · 8 months ago

Text

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?

Because he was a good boy.

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.

Well, his exploits at least.

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.

And you said it.

You finally said it today.

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.

“Good boy.”

#one piece #x reader #Eustass Kid #eustass kid x reader #op kid #one piece eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x gn!reader #gn!reader #one piece x reader #kid has a praise kink #he just wants to be a good boy #fic request #ask snail #snail answers #snail needs sleep

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ghostcore3 · 3 months ago

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some random headcanons of tomura that i thought of

just like ochaco, he sleeps either with gloves on or bandages on his pinky fingers

i’ve seen many people say tomura would listen metal or heavy metal but i really think he’d prefer game OST’s over anything>>>

blasts bury the light at 3am

he’d call kurogiri at 3am just to tell him about his plans to kill all might

apparently he’s awake all day, having anxiety attack cuz he drank monster on an empty stomach

i think he’s the type of guy to meticulously plan everything only to have it ruined by bad luck

he’d occasionally pick on his flaky skin/lips

he has a habit of collecting figures, only to leave on at the shelve without looking at it again

if you’re close to tomura, he’d invite you to eat something tasty and then tell you that he destroyed one of your items

tomura is not the type to use bar soap but rather dispenser soap…that’s if you’re lucky enough he used one

he doesn’t use his quirk much and he’s used to only using 4 fingers

very competitive and mean when he plays against you in a PvP game

too mean he’s not giving you an ounce of hope to win

you got upset and he decided to switch to simulation games instead (he doesn’t admit this but he plays animal crossing to relax)

say goodbye to your personal space, this man knows no boundaries

he’s not shy, he’s just like a cat that doesn’t know how to express its feelings to you

*gets jumpscared in a horror game* “fuck all might, fuck endeavor, fuck hawks, fuck—“

your man is the type to pick his food off the floor :(

shigaraki is the type of guy to buy you the most luxurious & beautiful black nightgown while he stays on his creeper boxers

tomura doesn’t like to shower on his own, he likes the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair 🚿🛀

(NSFW below this point:)

expect him to talkshit about all might mid-sex

i really think his hatred for all might surpasses his sex drive

prefers receiving and will be mean about it, he just likes making a mess of you

degradation & slight breeding kink

your boobs are his favorite pillows

he likes fucking you with the skirt on—

missionary & doggy 👑

call him sweet names during sex and he’ll melt under your arms

doesn’t like shower sex but a blowjob will do

i think he would be into somnophilia, only if you’re fine with it

#bnha #boku no hero acedamia #shigaraki tomura #bnha shiggy #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader #tomura x you #league of villains #tomura #tomura smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki drabbles #shigaraki x you #mha

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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Piercings (Sanji x Reader)

I’ve fallen down the one-piece rabbit hole and most likely have a new hyperfixation I don't care they’re all hot and I will write like my life depends on it. Anyway, ENJOY SOME SANJI 💃🏾✨

Pt.2 out now! (18+)

Warnings: flirting, heavy touching, mentions of needles, kissing omg so scary

You're leaning against the bathroom sink, trying your damdest to keep a steady hand while you try and slide the needle through the skin of your lip. This wasn’t your first rodeo, considering you have plenty of piercings from your past. Whether it was a manic episode, a silly little impulse decision, or one you'd been wanting for a while, you had them.

Being out on the ocean didn’t really leave you a chance to go and get them done by someone in a shop but you picked up tips and knew what to do for the most part. Besides, if you messed up, you'd just have a little story to tell about it later!

You focused, taking one swift, deep breath before letting the metal into your skin, moving calculated with the jewelry, eyes watching a bit from the shock. This one was a bit easier since you’d had them before and the holes had closed. Observing your face with a smile, satisfied with your work you exit the bathroom.

As far as you knew the only other person with a semi noticeable piercing was Zoro. And even though you two didn’t really bond over it, it was something you had in common. Nami had her ears pierced as well but that was cause you'd offered when she mentioned wanting them. Commotion from the kitchen slows you down and you can’t help but let curiosity get the best of you. It was most likely just Sanji making something for lunch.

“Good morning!” You announce, making your way to the countertop to take a seat.

As predicted, Sanji was focused on his craft, hands moving from different ingredients to one big pot and two smaller pans steaming away behind him. Nami waves and smiles in response as Luffy follows behind her, snatching up an orange before smiling your way.

"Good morning Y/n!" Luffy beams, the kitchen falling in silence once again when the pair leaves.

...does this mf not see you sitting here all pretty?

"Good morning to you too my beautiful, wonderfully glorious, super sexy, absolutely adored y/n" You state, albeit a bit teasing.

He looks up for a moment, not missing the way you had rolled your eyes at the fact that he hadn't bothered to return the acknowledgment to you.

"Good morning chérie." He smiles, always intrigued by your chipper yet, slightly flirtatious attitude.

When you first arrived, it was really just to be an extra set of hands and someone with a rather extensive knowledge of islands. Not to mention pretty damn good with the locals considering you were a people person much like your captain. Anyway, Sanji tried his hand at the compliments and pet names, but you always returned them with quick wit.

In all honesty, it shocked him, and soon you were engaged in a mutual flirtatious game of cat and mouse. Pet names became hushed compliments and whispers in one anothers ear. Brief touches became prolonged and damn could you two hold eye contact. At this point, it was basically an eye-fucking starting contest.

You grin at him, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Sanji paused for a moment to examine your face, four shiny dots along your lower lip, two on either side. He swallows hard, trying to shake himself out of his thoughts. What a pretty mouth.

"New piercings?" He questions, turning away from you and back to the stove.

You give a quick, "mhm!" and hop off to hover beside him.

"Shark bites, I mean, we are on the open ocean so why not!" You explain, leaning against the stove for a moment before jumping back with a hiss. Leave it to you to get injured while trying to mess around and chat in a busy kitchen!

It's instantaneous when Saji turns to see if you're injured, his own coming to yours to observe the burn. It wouldn't be the first item he's asked you to not mess around in here while he's working but you were so damn hardheaded, he knew this. But you just couldn't help it!

Unbeknownst to him, being around him and seeing him was the highlight of your day. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't developed feelings for the flirt. But considering he wasn't just flirty with just you, but Nami too, you'd made plenty of excuses and reasons to back off, even toning down your flirting a bit, thinking that you were getting in the way of who he really wanted.

It always killed you on the inside little bit, thinking of how one day maybe Nami would fall victim to his charm like you had. She'd be the one to whisper things to him, the one to press kisses to his face in adoration maybe. It was an odd way to punish yourself and keep your distance, imagining unrequited love but hey, to each their own.

However, unbeknownst to YOU as well, Sanji had developed a old-fashioned crush. How could he not! He loved the teasing, if he was being completely honest. He loved how you stayed just close enough to him to make his heart beat faster. He'd be more than happy to have you closer in all honesty. Pretty face, pretty personality, witty, fierce, bold as hell might he add.

Not to mention shawty got a body on her- Sanji redirects his focus, looking up into those pretty (e/c) eyes.

Taking your hand he pushed it under the icy water from he sink a silence washing over you.

His hands are bigger than yours, littered with scars as he rubs circles over the top of your hand in comfort. You swallow hard, trying to distract yourself from how warm his grasp feels on your wrist. Gentle but warm, contrasting with the harsh water. He's focused, lips and teeth fiddling with a small silver sphere while he turns the water off and grabs the aid kit beside him.

"Sanji." You breathe out, searching his eyes and lips briefly.

"Stick out your tongue....please?" You ask, seeing him swallow hard, ears flushed red., heat spreading to his cheeks. He doesn't follow through with the request.

Using your free hand, you follow the curve of his jaw before using your thumb to slide down his lips. Soft.

"I'll show mine if you show yours." You offer, letting your tongue slide over your lips deceivingly.

He's got this damn irresistible puppy look in his eyes, his lips parking only a bit before he sticks his tongue out, the silver shining in the kitchen light.

You bit your lower lip for a moment, letting your tongue do the same, only for him to find that it was split. He stopped dressing your hand now, the pain greatly dulled with a new distraction.

"Any more surprise body mods I should know about?" Sanji questions, voice dripping with desire.

Keeping your distance was a joke at this point because you'd be damned if you did have your lips on him within the next 10 seconds.

"I could ask you the same. Though, you should take me out before you see what else I have on my body? Don't you think Sanji?" You whisper his name, testing the waters.

It doesn't take much else for him to lean forward, your lips connecting like puzzle pieces. It's a soft pec at first, but soon becomes hungry and consuming, his pierced tongue sliding over your split one. It's hotter in here, his body caging you in, your hands fighting between staying on him, or resting against the countertop for support.

The tobacco on his tongue is addicting, just as much as the way he makes a point to make you feel the small metal sphere. There's only a moment to breathe, but when you do your right back on each other, this time, finding more stability with your arms around his neck, and his hands at your hips, thumbs tracing just above the curve of your ass. And then he feels it.

"Back dermals. Impulse decision but the backshots are nice."You hum, pulling at his lower let gently with your teeth.

He groans, the grip on your hips becoming tighter when he dips his lips down to the skin of your neck, sucking for a moment in debate. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, his ears red as the color spreads to his cheeks. It's so damn hot in here.

"Backshots huh?"All takes is a whimper from you and he's back to work, the metal from his piercing sliding over your skin.

A look of horror washes over you before you can respond back, and you're pushing against him in a hurry. He opens his mouth to question what's wrong, anxiety seeping into his chest but before he can ever get a chance to overthink, you're already shouting.

"THE STOVE, SANJI! THE STOVE! ITS ON FIRE!"

____________________

LMK IF YOU WANN BE TAGGED IN PT.2

that one gets a little(a lot) spicier and uninterrupted by kitchen chaos and fire hazards

#x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla x reader #one piece x reader #i don't care he's hot #this is my current obsession so bear with me

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colourstreakgryffin · 1 year ago

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Hello my good friend. It's been a while since I've requested but. Can I request kyojuru and mitsuri with female-child reader who likes fire, and likes to watch things burn up? They don't get burnt by it but if they do they won't cry. For kyojuru's part reader like to brush his hair with there smalls hands on tug at the bottom of his haori where the flames are. 🙏🏾💕

Hehe! Omg, this is so wholesome and cute and I can already see how both would behave! Let’s gooo! I’m totally doing this request and welcome back, darling! Also welcome back, Mitsuri

Rengoku Kyojuro

Kyojuro is naturally protective over younger ones so when he sees you, the little girl he rescued and adopted, sat in front of a stick fire. He sprints to pull you away from the flames and tell you lightly that fire is dangerous

Kyojuro is flattered with how much you like his hair. Yes, it does look like fire, doesn’t it? He will let you brush his hair all you want and the way you try pull the strands up so it will burn like real fire, has his heart exploding. You’re just so adorable with your fire fascination

Kyojuro cannot say no to you, like at all. Sure, he will take you away from fires you start and put you in front of controlled fires but that’s for protection. In every other sense, he can’t say no, so when you reach for the tips of his flame-like haori, he drapes it over you so you can play with it

“Look, Dokusha. See that fire there?” Kyojuro‘s comforting yet strong voice rolled out softly as he comfortably sat down on his knees, with you placed in his lap. His pointer directed your eager eyes to the roaring tall torch egging-on a big, beautiful orange-red-yellow mix palette flame burning with life. You immediately silenced yourself, the reflective light of the fire bouncing off your eyes as you glared in pure awe

Kyojuro didn’t want his precious adoptive daughter to be around uncontrolled and touchable fire so instead, he would set the Rengoku Family flame torches for you to gaze and admire the fire from a safe distance. You always have loved fire, ever since he met you and up to this very moment. You pulled at his fire-like coloured hair and played with the flame patterned haori draped carelessly over his shoulders

Kyojuro didn’t mind sitting in front of the torch with you, all to make you happy as he admired your gawking expression. You look simply so adorable in your nighttime Yukata and your pretty loose hair decorated by a single small ponytail. Kyojuro is over the phrase of ‘glad’ that you’re his precious baby girl, his one and only child. He will give you his flame-like haori to cuddle up in and a nice lap to fall asleep on

“What is your favourite colour of the fire, Dokusha?”

Kanroji Mitsuri

Mitsuri, as the older sister of five, knows to always be careful around danger and how to handle children with dangerous things so when you, her cute little adoptive daughter, is huddled over the Estate’s furnace fire to gawk at the colours and liveliness, she is bolting to make sure you won’t catch on fire

Mitsuri will try distract you with fire-looking items as to keep you away from real fire. The way you hawk at the red fade to yellow kimono she bought for you and play with the tips of the flame-shaped handkerchief she got made, her heart goes pitter-patter with joy

When push comes to shove, Mitsuri will let you sit by her as she sets up the Estate’s furnace fire and even let you put in wood for her to set ablaze. She won’t let you handle the lighter, all because she is protective over you and always strives to keep you safe

“Place the big log down in this spot, baby” Mitsuri chirped gently, carefully placing her hands on your little back as you lazily dump the big irritable log of wood onto the standing pile of charcoal, spreading a small gust of ash over the short metallic railing guarding the entrance to the fire’s shelter. The log was heavy and scratched at your chest, you stepped back until you bumped against Mitsuri’s torso. She took this opportunity to cuddle you closer to her as she picked up the lighter and flicked the nozzle to spark up a fire

In wonder and awe, you watched Mitsuri eventually set the big log on fire after a few attempts of hovering the dancing flame over the wood, placing down the lighter to the side and shuffling back on her knees with you firm in her grasp so the fire couldn’t touch any inch of you incase it roared to life. Her prediction was proven correct when the thick chunk of tree essence brought to life a raging fire that almost grazed over the brick roof of the furnace

Mitsuri leant her vision down to look at you after your amazed coos faded. You’re just so adorable, eyes reflecting the mixed fiery colours and in that moment, she knew she will never regret saving you from that Lower Moon and adopting you as her little one. Sure, you’re a bit reckless with fire but your excitement over it makes her heart roar in true passion. Comfortable in your comfy nighttime Yukata and cute small silky brushed braids, she planned to sit with you in front of the fire for hours. All because the colours made you so happy

“Do you feel the warmth, Dokusha? The fire is so nice”

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muzansfangs · 1 year ago

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Enjoy the silence.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, slight somnophilia, oral sex (f!reader receiving), slight overstimulation, morning sex, enstablished relationship, Shinji’s piercing on his tongue is a warning itself.

Plot: you had convinced your boyfriend Shinji to accompany you to a concert. He loved music, but he loathed the band you supported. For the sake of you, he had let it slide, although he complained all the way back to your flat. The morning after, you woke up to an immense pleasure engulfing your nether regions, only to find out your boyfriend’s shit-eating grin giving you a sweet good morning.

Track: Enjoy the silence – Depeche Mode “All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm”.

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Some golden rays seeped through the curtains, lazily illuminating the bedroom with a soothing orange light and the comforting warmth of the sun raising up in the sky. It was early, right, and you were still peacefully sleeping into your bed with the white blankets tangled in your legs and your boyfriend’s head resting on your chest. The sound of the chirping birds outside your window woke him up, his heavy eyelids slowly opening to greet the new day ahead of him.

His head ached a little, the aftermath of the rock concert you had dragged him to still affecting him quite badly. Maybe he should have stayed sprawled on your sofa yesterday night. Still, he could not turn you down. Not after the puppy eyes you had given him to his first refusal to accompany you there.

He lifted himself up the elbows, eyes darting on your body and your delicate features. You were still sleeping, chest raising and falling rhythmically, lips parted as you navigated through the mysterious roads of dreamland.

You were so beautiful, so perfect for him, even if you literally drove him mad at times. If he closed his eyes, he could still see you dancing beside him, screaming at the top of your lungs all the lyrics of the band he loathed oh so much. Still, you were so happy and dashing, shining among thd dancing crowd, and he loved seeing you smile like that. Yet, he had to somehow get back at you. He could not resist and restraining himself was not an option.

Being into a relationship for quite a while had granted you the chance to explore each other limits. You had told him more than once in the past that you were not bothered by the idea of him initiating intimate activities, while you were asleep. You trusted him blindly and, being touched by the person that had saved your life countless times in past, felt right, no matter the circumstances.

Shinji sighed, crawling down your body and carefully grasping your left leg to make some more space for him to move during the act. As he switched his gaze from your sleepy face to your panties, he made sure to slip his slender fingers underneath the straps and slowly pulled the item down your legs. A goddess, you looked like a real goddess.

From that position, the former Captain of the Fifth Division could enjoy the way your chest raised and fell in your slow and steady breathing, admiring the gentle curves of your body in awe. His pierced tongue swept out of his mouth, as he was lost into thinking about the way the the metal sphere over his tongue would have soon stimulated your bundle of nerves.

“Here we go, love…” he whispered lowly, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face as he lowered his mouth down to your heat.

At first, you did not even seem that affected by the gentle licks of Shinji’s tongue. You were clearly still too tired for having danced all night long, singing and pestering your boyfriend with facts about the singer only a true fan could know, to wake up right away.

You should have probably clamped your mouth shut on your way back to your flat, but you were too euphoric not to comment on the event you had attended. Maybe, though, you just wanted to enjoy the pained face crossing your boyfriend’s sharp features, whenever you praised the band.

Now, as Shinji delicately gripped your thighs, half-lidded eyes scrutinizing your face in hunger, you could sense something stimulating your pearl deliciously. As you stirred in your sleep, you whined softly and your hips bucked, causing Shinji’s nose to unintentionally bump onto your clit.

“W-What… Shinji?” you whispered softly, eyes still closed as your mouth hung open in pleasure.

“Good morning, darling” the blonde man replied, his hot breath fanning your soaked cunt as he greeted you with his slightly high-pitched voice.

Oh, now you knew what was going to happen.

You sighed and smiled lazily, your hand reaching down to allow you to run your fingers through Shinji’s irregular bob. It was an affectionate sign for him to continue, because he knew you could never get enough of him and his own special way to give you oral.

“Ah, no. That’s not how things work. Your voice is so melodic, ya know? I enjoyed listening to you use your voice all night long yesterday! Use your words for me one more time. What is it that you want?” the man asked, a snarky smirk on his glistening lips, as he flicked his tongue teasingly over your most sensitive area.

Jolts of electricity made your body shake, as you gasped and bit onto your bottom lip in pleasure. He knew where to touch you, how to drive you insane and push your buttons.

“You’re mean…” you muttered, pouting down at him, as you finally opened your eyes and met his bright ones.

And, dear God, what a sight to wake up to.

“Blame it on the Hollow inside me…” he purred, biting the inside of your thigh softly and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to your heat. His lips felt heavenly on you and the small moans falling from your lips were the unconfutable proof that you were loving his touch and that you craved more of it.

“Shinji, please. Baby, please, I can’t take it… Make me cum” you breathed out, making him wink at you and chuckle at the pathetic state you were in so early in the morning and he had not even involved his fingers yet.

“I got it, I got ya, baby… Now, let me treat that pussy right” he purred, not caring about punishing you anymore, as his lips started to suck at your aching clit passionately.

There was only one thing that mattered to him and it was not driving you crazy, or getting back at you. Shinji Hirako only cared about you, your needs and your love.

No matter how many times he had to follow you down roads he did not like, he would have endoured anything to see you happy. No matter what, no matter where.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I’m sorry for being late with updates, but I have been so busy. However, I have completed another one-shot for my event. Yay, I feel at peace with myself. Why? Because it’s a smutty one and it’s officially kinktober! This is a little shorter than I had originally planned, but I guess it will suffice this time.

Likes, comments and re-posts are appeciated!

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @stygianoir @quinnies-blog @electronicwitchcollection

#shinji hirako x reader #shinji hirako #hirako shinji x reader #shinji x reader #shinji x y/n #bleach x female reader #bleach x reader #bleach x you #shinji hirako x you #hirako shinji

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reverie-verse · 1 year ago

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Hiiii, could you possibly do a Miguel O'Hara smut with some ✨BRAT✨taming in it ( if your comfortable with it ) the plot is up to you 🫶🏾😁

Brats Sometimes Need Taming: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Prompt: You get hit in the face with sex pollen. Honestly it starts out that way but really it’s just luck because Miguel fucks you how you like. Hot heavy, intense.

Warning: Dudes this is straight up filth. There’s brat taming(main course), oral (F and M), edging, light very light bondage, choking maybe, pleasure Dom if you squint hard enough. Oh and Creampie

Iiiii hope this is up to your standards! This is my first smut so let me know if this is good enough to write more haha. Anyways I hope you enjoy it Anon and anyone else who reads it!

———————————————————————

Miguel had ordered the team to complete a task in another dimension that included all of you and himself. He would lead the group into a destroyed building many stories high. The objective was to stop a rather ugly looking creature from spewing out pollutants from its body. The creature wasn’t alone. There were many of them each with a different pollutant. They had already demolished half of the city you were in. It wasn’t until the end of the battle when you fought one particular monster at the top of the building while Miguel fought at the bottom. You were striked down; then you were falling off a nearby metal support beam. A cloud of colored pollutants floated around you and in the air. It even fell gracefully with you, but you were rendered unconscious. Miguel waited for you to use your webs to save yourself but you didn’t. As if time slowed down Miguel threw himself in your direction. Using his webs he flung himself under you capturing you in time before you could go no further and no closer to the ground. You both rolled on the ground of the next level of the building. The rest of the team took care of the creature while Miguel tended to you.

Your head lulled to the side, Miguel checked your vitals frantically. You were in fact alright but something was off. Your breathing becomes faster. He could feel the heat of your skin rise instead of cooling down, your skin began to sweat. Miguel scooped you up in his arms and opened a portal back to headquarters taking straight to the med bay. Still rendered unconscious as he marched through, he yelled at everyone to leave except for the doctor. He demanded answers and a way to save you. He had know idea what that pollutant was that struck you. He was worried that you might implode on yourself. As a bit morbid as that sounds but you burned to the touch and you were sweating profusely. The doctor could offer him no information without taking tests. Miguel threw items on the floor frustrated with himself for letting you battle that creature alone. But of course the doctor was right he needed to know what was wrong. Miguel had stripped your mask off so that you could breathe better. The doctor was gone and the privacy stayed between you both.

Miguel stared at your beautiful face, caressing your hot skin, by now he had removed his own gloves. His bare skin on yours was enough to wake you. Just as the doctor arrived your whining had begun. Doctor had explained to Miguel that you were infected with a type of substance that exposed you to a sexual chemical. It ultimately triggers you into a sexual frenzy. The doctor had no idea how long it would take for it to be satiated. As the doctor continued he explained that he needed time to figure out its formula. He had no idea if this process could be handled by itself if you waited it out or if you needed an antidote. During that conversation You were already eyeing Miguel’s massive figure. The way he leaned over the side of the bed his elbows resting on the mattress as he spoke with the doctor. His muscles stretched all the way down to his back, his wide frame making you want to leave marks on his skin if he’d let you. His hair looked soft to the touch you so badly wanted to twist your hands in his hair. To watch as his head dipped between your thighs. You moaned at the thought reaching for Miguel as you lifted yourself up kissing along his back and onto his shoulder.

The doctor cleared his throat and Miguel turned his head to look at you. You looked zoned out, your mind hazy and else were, and you smelt like arousal. Miguel firmly pried off your hands. Don’t get him wrong he loves to relish in the moment and be present as he watches you squirm, and moan under him. Right now though, you were sharing sounds that he wanted no one to hear but him You were kissing his body as if it were just the two of you in the room, again those were not for the doctor to witness. Miguel gave you a look that held the meaning of. Knock it off. Miguel had moved slightly away from you so that he could focus on what the doctor was saying. It wasn’t until you moved toward Miguel again; you were pulling on his suit nipping at his clothes skin on his back. He could hear your quiet hum. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the doctor who tried his hardest not to pay attention to your actions but failed.

The doctor cleared his throat to ask if he should leave when Miguel’s stone filled expression became grave and dark. He looked pissed to be quite honest. Miguel becoming irritated by your needy behavior he turns quickly to face you and with just one hand both wrists pinned to your chest. He pushed you back down on the bed pinning you there. Your breathing became erotic, your head rolled to the side on the pillow, your legs propped up on the bed you were about to rut into the air when Miguel slammed another hand down on your hips. You were beyond turned on and burning with desire.

“ You need to wait” he warned you.

“ Miguel I-I can’t. Let’s go home!” you whined. Your body melting and folding under his touch, he was driving you insane. You just needed to feel him. He didn’t even need to do anything. Miguel rolled his eyes at you before looking at the doctor. His hands stayed where they were holding you down. He continued to listen to the doctor, completely deciding to ignore you. To be honest the doctor was the furthest thing from your mind. You could’ve sworn he wasn’t even really there. Which he only distracted you for a minute before your eyes landed back on Miguel. Oh Miguel. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together hoping that maybe it would ease the burning need but it doesn’t.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He side eyes you before heaving a sigh of his own, with a few curses. Miguel had told the Doctor to keep doing his research and look for an antidote in case you continue with this behavior. Miguel had reached for you in the hopes of picking you up bridal style but you managed to already wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his hips. Thankfully the doctor couldn’t see you, as you bit into Miguel’s ear lobe. You didn’t bite hard but you pulled on it slightly before kissing it. You could feel his clothed erection growing. It made you that much more excited. Your insides scream for him, yearning to be cock drunk and filled to the brim.

Miguel growled in your ear as he whispered “ You’re being a brat.” Miguel wasted no time as he jumped out the med bay window swinging his way back to your shared apartment. He refused to risk anyone else witnessing you in this state of mind. The doctor seeing it was enough for him. As soon as you landed in the apartment Miguel had stripped you of your suit. You had lost your balance in the same process but not before he webbed your hands together. You fell towards the floor not exactly hitting it but instead you were pulled back into his hard body. Miguel lifted a hand and gripped your jaw firmly planting a much wanted and much needed heated kiss. Your lips, tongue and teeth fought for dominance. Miguel instantly shut down the thought as he pulled away abruptly. You chased after his lips only for him to move back once again

You whined again. “ Miguel you’re being mean” you tried to wiggle out of the webbing itching to grab Miguel. He shook his head tsking at you.

“ What a shame. Hmm you being all whiny and needy in front of the doc too. You just can’t seem to control yourself” He taunts.

“ Miguel-“ you were about to begin your begging when he turned you around so your back pressed into his front. You were beginning to feel everything ten times worse, the way his tall frame curved into you, the way he was pressed against you. The way his breath fanned across your ear and cheek as his lips grazed your skin. The way his rough hands gripped and touched your body, slowly massaging each part until his hands stopped where you needed him most “Fuck, please, please”

“ Poor Y/N, look at how desperate you are. You want it so bad but you haven’t earned it” he whispers to you. He frees one hand so it slides up in between the valley of your breasts and up to your throat. He only holds it and never squeezes. Without so much of a warning his other hand dips into the place where you needed him most. You were drenched, covered in your own arousal. Miguel’s fingers glided through your sensitive folds. He had no intention of stroking that bundle of nerves or your hole just yet. Your legs buckled slightly and with your hands webbed together you couldn’t reach for Miguel. It didn’t help that he had you pressed to his chest either. His finger runs through your folds barely touching your clit, with each nudge it sends a jolt through your body. His finger inches closer to your own circling around it as he quickly inserts a finger. He leaves it there. He doesn’t move, he waits to see your reaction. He was testing you.

“Miguel you’re being mean” You hiss at him. Your body is too needy with an arousal. Your body rocks against his finger. You moan at the sensation, how good his finger feels down there. How it rubs against those spots you could never reach only Miguel. Miguel oh Miguel. He inserts another finger, adding a much needed stretch. He let you fuck yourself on his fingers. He let you enjoy it for the time being. His fingers pick up the pace, pushing deliciously hard into you hitting everything but that one spot. You began to whine, he may not have been hitting the place you wanted but you were so sensitive that it felt so good. You twist your hands in the webbing to try and break yourself free. You wanted to touch him, to feel him. Miguel had noticed and whatever orgasm you were about to feel vanished. He pulled his fingers out of you leaving you feeling empty. Your legs feeling like jelly you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Miguel with his hand on your throat he leaned down capturing your lips with his. His tongue stroked the inside of your mouth. He pulls away biting your lip with his sharp fangs before devouring your lips.

His hand that was once inserted now rubbed furiously at your clit, your whines, the back into moans. He made quick work with your clit but as your orgasm grew closer he managed to pull away just in time. Edging you every chance he could get. Honestly you wanted to cry, it felt so good and it hurt so bad. “ I told you to wait, didn't I? This is one of your punishments for being a brat-“your hips pressed into his ass rubbing against his clothed cock. He takes his finger from your cunt and shoves them in his mouth. He licks your slick clean from his fingers as he pushes you off him. He pushes you towards the couch not caring if you make it to the bedroom. He makes quick work taking off his suit. His toned body is on display for you. You were practically drooling out the mouth not to mention you were drooling elsewhere. As if you couldn’t get more turned on. Miguel grabbed ahold of your ankles pulling on them so that you neared the edge of the couch. His tall figure looming over you. He smirked as he grabbed your legs and bent them towards your chest. He slowly dropped to the floor on his knees, his own mouth watering. Your breathing picks up as you feel his breath along your hot skin. Miguel turned his head to the side and kissed your inner thighs, then your outer lips, then your folds. Not wasting any time he lapped at your folds licking long strips from your hole to your bundle of nerves. A loud pornographic moan leaves your lips. He shakes his head to the side as he licks, at one point he starts nipping at your folds pulling on them, tugging. Your hips rocked into his face, you so badly wanting to thread your hands in his hair. Your webbed hands stayed near your chest but those waves of hair were calling to you. You watched him as your mouth hung slightly open. Hisses leave your lips when his long tongue enters your hole and his nose nudges your clit. Tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. You wanted to reach your orgasm but the closer you got Miguel would know. He pulled away but not before giving your clit a hard suck and then a smack with his hand making your body jolt at the feeling.

Miguel leaned toward you, capturing your lips again with his. He let you taste yourself on his tongue not before pulling away from you, his hands pinched your little nubs on your breasts twisting and pulling on them. He kneaded them as he gave each one a kiss. Standing up he pushes your legs down grabbing your throat he pulls you forward so your face is in front of his dick. You bit your lip, Miguel removed his hand from your Throat reaching for your hair he held it back in a ponytail for you. His other hand lifts his cock so that its tip slaps your lips. “ Open” he demands. It was long and thick, his tip already covered in precum. You lick his cock tasting him. before you do as he says. He slips his cock into your mouth, he groans the feeling of your warmth around him. He guides your head back and forth, sucking him off. You let him abuse your mouth. You hum on his dick enjoying the taste of him, the vibrations hitting Miguel he moans.

“ My little brat likes that. So desperate for my cock” he pushes you head further on to him the sounds of his wet dick in your mouth turning obscene. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you continue to suck on him. You push back slightly going for his tip again knowing he liked when you did that. You kissed his tip as you opened your mouth letting your tongue lick it. Your lips wrap the edges sucking on it letting your tongue trace his slit. Miguel growled at the feeling and sight of it, your mouth sinked in further stroking him at a slower pace. Honestly you were driving him mad. Your mouth couldn’t fit all the way around him but you took what you could. With your hands still bound together you desperately wanted to break loose. The more you stroked him and the faster his hips snapped into your mouth you knew you were close to getting what you both craved. Though you needed a final push. You took a deep breath through your nose as you pushed him further into your mouth so that your nose hit his hip. You slowly bobbed your head, you changed the pace and movement making it difficult for Miguel to hold on to his release that he saved for later. Miguel pulled you off of his cock glaring at you as he tsks at you.

You stood up so that you were more or less face to chest with him. You wrapped your webbed hands and arms around his neck. Pulling him in your lips, taking his, you pressed your chest into him. As your tongue fights him for dominance. You pull back biting on his lip tugging at it then diving back into him. His hands gripped your back before sliding down and kneading on your ass. The two of you grope each other in a heated back out. In the process however you “sneakily” turned Miguel around so his legs would bump into the couch. He knew what you were doing and before you could even attempt to do anything else he pushed you off of him. You broke the webbings on your hands within mere seconds Miguel had you pinned down on your side on the couch. He turned you so that one leg rested on the couch while the other was held up by his hand. You watched him as you pressed the side of your face into the couch. You were so excited you couldn’t wait for him to get inside you. You began to whine encouraging him to enter you. You were throbbing, needy, hungry for him. He was depriving you as he watched your body beg for his.

“ Someone needs to learn patience.” He tells you as he slowly glides through your extremely wet folds slipping into your tight entrance. You both moan at the feeling, he inches himself further into you so that he bottoms out. Miguel stayed still, he hadn’t thrusted into you yet, making your body feel every curve and inch of his cock. You were beyond overstimulated and extra sensitive you mewled in protest. Then he does. Miguel pulls his cock out all the way before slamming into you hard. You both yell out a curse. He sets a pace, on that hit the one spongy spot inside you. His hips slamming into yours at an intense pace. His large hands holding your thighs open. You reached behind you to place a hand on his wrists holding him. At this point he no longer cared that you got out of your restraints. His cock was starting to kiss the tip of your cervix. Moans flew out of your mouth some lewd, some pornographic, some with all the air leaving your body. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, the smell of sex undeniable.

“ Miguel-“ you moaned his name like a mantra or a prayer that would set you free. The force he was putting into you made your back arch and the breath leave your lungs. Miguel pulled out for a second so that he could turn you over onto your back. As he sat on his knees, he entered back into you ramming into you harder than before. You proppeped yourself up, placing a hand on his stomach as he slammed into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting up and he wasn't going to either. He leaned forward trapping you underneath his body. He locked your hands into your chests as he bounced downward into you. Both of your orgasms were beginning to build up and you could feel the familiar knots build in your stomach.

“ Mig-Im-close-fuuuck”

“ Come on mami, give it to me” he encouraged you as plowed into you profusely. Your orgasm came quicker than you had expected, your come flowing out of you, your body shaking, as the spots filled your vision. Your ears ringing, Miguel hadn’t finished yet he chased after his high still ramming into you. Your body began struggling to keep up. By the look on Miguel’s face he was about to reach his climax and you were about to reach your third or fourth. You weren’t sure how many times he made you come but what you did know was that you were about to do it again.

“ Fuuuck I’m about to come” Miguel’s hips sputtered as his set thrusts ram into you. You reached up caressing his face burning your hands in his hair. Your walls clenched down on him telling him to let go. With a final hard snap of his hips he releases into you a deep moan sounds from his chest. He body slows down riding out his own high before he pulls out of you. Sweat covered both of your skins. Your cream mixed with his as it trickled out of your hole. You prop yourself up on your elbows. Miguel is already eyeing your hole again. His fingers dip inside pushing your mixed back into you. You pushed on Miguel’s chest with your foot to move him away from your overly sensitive body. You were trying to regain your breathing and let your body catch up with your mind. Miguel caught your foot and pulled you towards him.

“ I can’t” you shook your head “ it’s too much”

Miguel’s eyes connected with yours “ You should’ve thought about that before you started acting up like the brat you are.” You could’ve sworn he was the one who got hit with the pollutant instead of you with the way he was acting. You’ve never seen this feral side of him before this was new territory you both were about to explore. You’d be lying to yourself about how incredibly turned on you were again. Round two was definitely underway.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x you #spiderverse smut #x poc reader #x y/n #fanfic #fanfic readers #x you #bipoc writers #poc reader #imagines #x reader #smut

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josephquinnswhore · 2 years ago

Note

hi honey! i discovered your blog not too long ago and my love your writing is so amazing i actually can't get enough!

i had a request if your taking them? it would be a dad!pedro pascal x wife!reader. and i've been thinking about this heavy since he was at the oscar's

could you do like a super fluff about everyone's reactions if he was the one to win an oscar for best actor?

hope you have a wonderful day my love! 💝

Cause for Celebration - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: Pedro is nervous about being nominated for his first Oscar Award.

Word Count: 1.9k

Note: This is the best frigging idea I’ve ever seen. I love this and I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🤍 This is my first request I’m crying so many tears right now! Thank you anon I LOVE you. May you pillow always be cold on both sides. Please let me know if you like it 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Your fingers seem to have a conscious of their own, mindlessly twisting your wedding ring around your finger to stop your hands from jittering as you were led to the paparazzi.

“Pedro! Pedro over here!” The flash of white light was blinding, the screaming and calling of paparazzi as they’re desperately attempting to gain your attention, you smile politely as you stand next to Pedro, changing your pose to his arm around your back and your hand resting on his chest. “Pedrito! I love you!” A fan screamed from next to the photographers, the one confession was enough for Pedro to thank the photographers, entwine your hands and make a beeline straight for his fans, as you approach the fans are a mess, crying and screaming as Pedro signs their items, even taking some selfies with fans. “Y/n can we please get a photo! We love you!” Your heart skipped, smiling at how sweet his fans were and you accepted graciously, “of course sweetheart!” You bare the biggest grin and lean into her as she cries, ignoring the metal barrier that presses into your ribs. “Thank you so much! Good luck Pedro!” You both thank them and move on to the interview the woman, you knew well from Pedro’s past interviews and long mop of auburn hair. Pedro’s warm hand met your back, hands grazing on the sequinned gold dress that clung to your body graciously.

“Pedro it’s so good to see you again, this is your wife right?” Pedro let out a small laugh, turning his body towards you in an attempt to include you. “Yes, this is my beautiful wife, how couldn’t I bring her? She’s my number one supporter.” The redness that spreads along your cheeks heats your face, adding to the blush from your make up. You clasp your hands together and let out an excited huff of air, “you’ve done so incredibly this year honey, you deserve this Oscar. I’ll run up to the stage and snatch it if you don’t win!” Your giggles are harmonised by Pedro’s and Amelia’s laugh. “Will you be on the dance floor with Pedro at the after party this evening?” Your hand tentatively rubs down Pedro’s arm, shaking the nerves off you, “of course how could I not? I cant have another beautiful woman claiming my man!” Pedro scoffs playfully, “you know I only have eyes for you cariño.” Amelia sighs adoringly at the two of you, “well that confirms it folks! Pedro and y/n are the hottest couple on the red carpet tonight!” She turns away from the camera her co worker held and back to you, “good luck tonight, see you two next time!”

Both saying your goodbyes, Pedro’s assistant led you past a long line of celebrities, waiting to be let in, your breath hitched, “oh my god you’re skipping past Andrew Garfield!” Pedro slips his hand into yours, “must be getting important baby,” he jokes, knowing of your little crush on Andrew, and you’re led straight into the venue. “You’re the most important to me baby- whoa,” you gasp in awe, interrupting yourself. The room was ridiculously huge, hundreds of seats in rows you couldn’t count, the stage was empty, other than the stand and a large screen above the stage, red curtains framed the outside.

“I can’t believe this is real, I mean I can. You deserve this more than anyone, I’m just so proud of you.” Celebrities fill the hundreds of seats, the ones near you being filled with A-List celebrities you’d crushed on when you were younger. “Thank you baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple, moving his arm around to rest on the back of your chair, you lean into him as the ceremony begins, lights dimming slightly as the spotlights shone bright on the presenters.

Unsurprisingly, Michelle Yeoh won best actress. She was a talented actor, her role as Evelyn in ‘everything everywhere all at once’ was unmatched. The mix of sci-fi and adventure had you on the edge of your seat and was a brilliantly produced movie. Her speech was just as brilliant, her sense of humour and gratitude was touching, and you felt nothing but happiness for her as she thanked her family, shaking the hands of presenters, Harrison Ford and Kate Hudson who clapped in celebration for her.

“We would like to start off with a massive thank you to everyone who joins us tonight, this has been a massive year of acting and the most incredible. We are excited to announce that Halle Berry and Elizabeth Olsen will be presenting the next award and last of the night.” Harrison Ford and Kate Hudson clap to themselves as they introduce two of your idols, barely containing your excitement you clap steadily, Pedro laughing at your excitement.

“This is it baby, this is yours.” You grip his hand encouragingly. “We are happy to present this years best actor, with some incredible nominees including; Austin Butler for his role in Elvis”, a montage of the Elvis movie flashes on the large screen tv. “Brandon Fraser for his role in The Whale,” cheer erupts through the stadium, Brandon was special to a lot of people, no doubt he would win if Pedro didn’t. “Colin Farrell for his role in ‘The Banshees of Inisherin, and what an interesting movie that was.” You find yourself jittering, Pedro’s warmth leaving your hand as he straightens his jacket, a nervous twitch of his. “Last but not least, Pedro Pascal for his spectacular role of Joel Miller in The Last of Us game rendition.” Your eyes focus on the screen, your husband portraying Joel Miller, your hand running down his suit pant on his thigh. “I’m here baby, we got this.” You whisper, reassuring the anxiety both of you felt.

The room cheered for Pedro, your heart soars with pride as you cheer along. “Alright alright let’s get to it.” The crowd shushes, the rooms tension increased tenfold. The fumbling of the envelope could be heard through the microphone, the crackling of the paper as it opened and the two women looked at each other with a big smile on their face. “The winner for the 2023 Best Actor award is,” you’re on the edge of your seat and Pedro is still, anxiety clawing at him. “Pedro Pascal!” They exclaim in unison. Your jaw hits the floor, pride and excitement becoming too much, the whole room cheered for him, he was unmoving in his seat, in shock that he actually won. You pull his arm upward, a big grin on your face as he stands, you stand with him and you don’t miss the loving look in his eyes, he kisses you softly, laughing as he pulls away, moving toward the stage. You and your peers are clapping, your tears welling on your lash line threatened to ruin your perfectly applied make up. Pedro shakes Halle and Elizabeth’s hands, taking the Oscar in his hands and cradles it, as if it were made of glass. “I don’t even know what to say, I was certain I wouldn’t win so I haven’t prepared much of a speech.” The confession earned him a chuckle from the crowd, yourself included at his truth. “I just, want to thank my family, my mother for guiding me my sisters and nephews for their support. Everyone on my team and the guys at Naughty Dog for giving me this life-changing opportunity. I want to thank the other nominees, especially Brandon Frasier, your journey and story has touched us all and we love you man.” The room erupts in cheer, whistling clapping and yelling echo in agreement. “Lastly and most importantly, I want to thank my beautiful wife, for always believing in me, pushing me to be a better man. For loving me and for being selfless, for putting up with a lifestyle she knew nothing about. I want to thank her especially for making me a father to our beautiful daughter Eméile, and our beautiful son on the way!” Your cheeks are burning ferociously as the crowd gasps and turns to you, seeing you confirm the statement with your hands protectively grasping your stomach, a small bump that would’ve been otherwise noticeable, was now noticeable.

Past the point of caring about your make up, tears are falling down your cheeks, a sob choking you up as it gets stuck in your throat, you blow him a kiss as he finalises his speech with a repetition of his wedding vows. “Thank you for saving me, I wouldn’t be here without you cariño.” You were sobbing, clapping for your husband as your chest expands to make more room for your heart that is so full of love. He pulls you into a bear hug as he embraces you, his own tears of happiness falling on to your bare shoulder. The event coming to an end as they thank everyone for their presence. “With that ladies and gentlemen, we want to thank you all for joining us tonight. Please feel free to stick around for the after party to celebrate!”

Pedro pulls away from you, shaking the hands of his peers as they congratulate him, inviting him to party with them early into the morning, in which he declines. “No thank you, me and my beautiful wife are going to spend our time celebrating as a family, you all have a wonderful evening!”

“Dad you won! I knew you would! I’m so proud of you!” Your daughter Eméile exclaims excitedly as she sees the golden figure of his Oscar. She buries her face in his suit-clad chest and sighs. “You’re like, the coolest dad ever now. You know that right?” Pedro laughs and ruffles your daughters hair. “Uh I would hope so Em!” She smiles as she hugs you, gently approaching as she doesn’t want to hurt the baby, even if you assure her a hundred times it’s fine. “I’m so proud of you too ma.” You bite your lip to stop it’s wobble, “thank you baby. I’m proud of you too. I’m darn proud of us all!” You admit with a huff. “Why don’t we watch a movie with dinner and popcorn to wind down?” You and Em shoot each other a look and grin, Pedro raises an eyebrow at your scheming. “I vote ‘We can be Heroes’.” You snort as you purse your lips, “Agreed. Two votes babe you’re outnumbered.” You confirm with a smirk on your lips.

Pedro sighs, “alright, I’ll order takeout. Chinese?” There was no objection as you both murmur in agreement taking seat on the lounge.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep outta you two about how cringe this movie is.” You and Eméile both burst out laughing, “but dad it is kinda cringe.” Pedro sighs as he sits with the popcorn, the smell wafting into your nose as you salivating as your hand dives into the oversized bowl of steaming buttered popcorn as the credits roll in. “You’re 16, don’t you wanna watch like, Wednesday or something?” Em scoffs, “no, I wanna watch this,” she points to the tv and turns to her dad, “and since when did my age have anything to do with my interests?” You raise your eyebrows at Pedro and he gives you a look of confusion, shaking his head. “Teenagers are so confusing.” He mumbles to himself as you all settle into the couch, crunching on the popcorn simultaneously as you cuddle up to each other as you wait for your Chinese takeout to arrive.

What in the world did you ever feel nervous for? You think as you watch the movie on the screen, the effects making you laugh as you watch Pedro-Marcus fly through the sky on the tv screen.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #Pedro pascal rpf #Pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal at the oscars #dad Pedro pascal #dad x Pedro

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darkgodcomplex · 7 months ago

Text

Home Sweet Home

Wally Darling X Reader

CW: Manipulation, Obsession, Horror, Psychological Horror, Violence

Word Count: 11,754

AO3 Link

Wattpad Link

Here's the story:

You stand with hands on your hips, the sleeves of your baggy old college sweatshirt rolled up as you admire your new house. This is it... a new start.

Tying your hair back into a ponytail, you get to work. This might be your dream, but it doesn't come easy. The house you've chosen was cheap and definitely a fixer-upper. You leave the U-Haul with all your boxes parked in the driveway while you head up to the door.

You step inside, which immediately brings you to a dimly lit mudroom. The wood paneling is rotting. It's going to have to be replaced. You kick off your shoes onto the dirt-encrusted floor, leaning your hand on the doorframe. When you peel it away, it comes back filthy.

Ugh. You need a sink.

Going further into the house, you head into the kitchen. The outdated orange shag carpet alone makes you groan. Plus, who puts carpet in the kitchen?

You head over to the large metal sink set up on the bright yellow countertops to wash your hand of the dirt. You turn the handle of the faucet.

Nothing.

You turn it more. Then off again and then on again. Still, no water comes out. You sigh, wondering if the water was shut off or if the sink is just another of the busted household items this house will provide.

The living room offshoots the kitchen. What was once probably beautiful white and flowered wallpaper has now yellowed and peels off the walls in large stripes. Several windows are cracked, but it doesn't look like it's from force. You guess it's probably from improper care in the cold.

There's a bathroom. As you creak open the door, you see something dash out. You shriek, scrambling back wildly as you watch the mouse slip away into a crack in the wall. You breathe heavy. You're definitely going to have to go buy some mouse traps tonight. Still, you cautiously enter the bathroom. When you turn on the sink, you're relieved to find that it runs.

You wash the dirt away, then flick your wet hands at the sink. Even if there were towels in the bathroom, you wouldn't trust them to dry your hands.

There's an upstairs, which you expect that you'll set up your bedroom up there. The stairs themselves though are awfully steep and seem to be littered with staples that stick out from the floorboards. You opt to avoid that for now and continue to explore the ground floor. There's a small closet filled with spiderwebs and a door that leads to the basement, though when you flick the lightswitch no light turns on down there.

You sigh, leaning your head against the door to the basement. Can you really do this? This is going to be so much hard work. You've scraped together all of your savings for this?

There's one more door at the end of the hall. You discover it's an office. It's still rough around the edges like the rest of the house, but it has a large window that takes up almost the whole wall. It looks out into the neighborhood.

You stand in front of it, admiring the view. You can see many houses, each one brightly painted with jolly colors, their lawns perfect. Butterflies and hummingbirds float near the bushes of flowers that are planted under the window. The sky is a brilliant blue, clearer than you've ever seen it before. This place truly is paradise.

One thing the realtor really sold you on was the neighborhood. She said that the community bands together in a way that she's never seen before. Seeing it now, you can already tell that these people are special. How can they not be when they create such a beautiful environment?

Yes, this will be your painting room. Just standing here now you feel a rush of inspiration. You want to paint this moment. You rush to the front door, eager to grab your painting supplies before the mood runs out.

As you open the door, you jolt back, you had not been expecting any visitors. You have an entire welcome crew at your front door.

"Hello neighbor!" A man with a stunning blue pompadour steps forward, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Wally Darling."

You gingerly take his hand, face flushing. He's clearly a charmer. His grip is firm but delicate.

"It's nice to meet you too."

"These are our other neighbors here, we have Julie, Eddie, Frank, Barnaby, Poppy, Howdy, and Sally!" Each one waves as he says their name.

"We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" Poppy raises up a cake she's been holding. In fancy cursive font, it reads:

Welcome Home.

"Poppy is our resident baker." Wally grins. "She's who you want to cater all your events!"

"Oh, Poppy, will you do my birthday!" Julie chimes in.

"Of course." Poppy laughs at Julie, then turns back to you. "Here you are, dear." She hands you the cake.

You smile, this is so sweet of them! It truly makes this miserable house better. "Thank you! Um, my place is a wreck right now, but please, come in."

They all shuffle into your kitchen. Luckily the previous owners left you a kitchen table and some chairs so that your guests can sit. You set the cake on the table.

"So where are you from?" Frank asks, taking a seat.

"I actually came a long way." You give a nervous chuckle. "Wanted to start fresh... I'm from a little town in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh that's where I'm from too!" Eddie bursts out excitedly, then hesitates. "Wait, no." Frank pats Eddie on the back.

"This place seems like it needs a bit of work." Wally notices, hands in pockets as he leans on the counter.

Howdy nods along with him. "I have a bunch of supplies in my shop if you ever need anything." He says. "On the house for a new neighbor."

"Oh, I can help too!" Sally says. "I work on my sets all the time!"

"That would be awesome!" You suddenly have a bit more hope for this place. "Only if it's not an inconvenience for you guys of course."

"It's no issue." Wally promises, looking down at you with his half lidded eyes. "It's all a part of being in the neighborhood."

"When are we having cake?" Barnaby suddenly asks, eyeing it.

"Oh, um-" You glance around the kitchen. "All my kitchen utensils are still packed in the car..."

Everyone puzzles over this for a minute. Then, Barnaby reaches out and takes a handful of cake. His paws smear with frosting and he brings it up to his mouth to take a bite.

"What are you doing!" Frank demands.

"No plates and no utensils." Barnaby shrugs.

There's another pause. Then, you reach out and grab a handful too. The cake is squishy and messy between your fingers, but when you bring it to your mouth, it's delicious. Slowly, everyone is scooping up the cake, laughing as they play with it in their palms.

"This is ridiculous." Frank says, crossing his arms. "I refuse to act so childish!"

"Aw, come on, Frank." Barnaby says, leaning over. "Oh, you got something on your face."

"What? Where-"

"Right... there." Barnaby smushes some cake onto Franks face, smearing it down. Frank sits in shock for a second, then reaches a finger up to wipe the frosting at his cheek. He sticks the finger in his mouth, sucking at the frosting.

"Well... at least the cake is delicious." He admits. Everyone laughs, but soon it devolves into everyone tossing the cake. Julie and Frank team up to get Barnaby, Sally tosses the cake in the air while Eddie tries to catch it in his mouth, and Howdy and Poppy try to down as much cake as they can. Wally still leans on the counter, watching the chaos with a small smirk.

You slide next to him, cake still in hand.

"Sure you don't want a bite?" You grin, intending to smash it on his face. Before you can though, he takes his index finger and swipes it through the frosting, bringing it to your face and gently smearing the frosting onto the tip of your nose. He brings his finger back to suck on the small bit of leftovers.

"You can have it all, my dear." He says, returning to his casual, laidback position.

Eventually, all the cake the gone. Whether more is in your bellies or streaked along your floor, table, and walls, you're unsure. It's a mess, but somehow it makes the old house feel less dreary than before. Your guests head home, promising to come help with the house.

"Oh!" Julie turns back as she leaves, grasping at your hands. "We're having a barbeque tomorrow. You simply have to come!"

"I don't know." You chuckle. "I still have to unpack."

"Well, please keep us in mind." She lets go, giving a warm smile. "I had a lot of fun today." With that, she turns and scurries down the steps.

It's Wally's turn next. He gives you another one of his signature warm smiles. It makes your stomach flutter.

"I'm just in the Home over there." He says, pointing towards a peppy little red house down the street. "Come down whenever you need me."

"Thank you again." You say. He gives a polite nod before stepping away.

When everyone is out of sight, you sigh. It's already sunset and you haven't done any unpacking. One by one you bring the boxes in. Then, you puzzle over how you're going to get your larger furniture inside. In the end, you decide you don't need to bring in the couch, the desk, or the TV in tonight and that you can ask for help tomorrow, but you have to bring the mattress in now. It's a struggle, but eventually you manage.

That's it. That's all the work you're doing today. You can take all your stuff out of the boxes tomorrow.

However, there is one box that you unpack, labeled painting supplies. You set up in your new office, putting the easel in front of the window. It's pitch black out now, so you decide to paint the quiet calmness of the neighborhood at night. It seems as if everyone is already asleep, there's not a single window light on down the street. You throw a canvas on the easel, digging through your oil paints to find the right ones.

You notice Wally's house is right near your window, you have a perfect view of it. It only adds to your inspiration, using the darkness as a metaphor in your painting. It's the mystery... the curiosity... the intimacy. Despite being in two separate homes, you can't help but feel like you're glimpsing into his soul by painting his house.

It's nearly three in the morning when you finally finish your painting. It's crude and hastily done, but you enjoy it's charm. As you lay it on the floor to dry, you notice an odd detail that you don't remember adding.

There's a single light on in Wally's attic.

_____

Despite promising yourself that you'll get completely unpacked today, by midmorning you're already exhausted. You take a break, steaming yourself a cup of tea. So far in your packing, you've only uncovered one of your coffee mugs, so you're left sipping out of a chipped mug that reads: I DESTROYED THE UNIVERSE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID MUG.

In the very least, a couple of things are coming along nicely. You hesitate to unpack everything right away, since you'll surely soon be tearing up carpet and painting over walls, but the essentials are out. Still, there is work to do.

Although...

You glance at the time. The barbeque is going to be soon... should you go? While they were all very king to you yesterday, you really don't know any of them.

Maybe this is your chance though. You'd particularly like to know that Wally fellow a little more.

You've decided it. You're going.

You glance down at your work clothes, a ragged old sweatshirt and worn out jeans with paint splattered all over. You're going to need to dress better than this.

Which box are your clothes in?

You spend another while digging through boxes. While you don't find dress clothes, you do find your stash of mugs. You set them in the kitchen. Eventually, you opt to just wear your paint splattered jeans but with a hole-free tee shirt.

You make your way outside. As you exit the house, the warm summer air hits you and you take a deep breath in, enjoying the season. It's absolutely beautiful in this town. You're surprised no one outbid on the house in a place like this.

Walking along the street, you spot a picnic spot set up in Wally's backyard. It seems you're the last one to arrive. The delectable smell of fresh meat cooking on the grill catches your nose.

"Yay, you came!" Julie practically jumps into your arms.

You laugh, "I figured I could take a lunch break."

Two picnic tables are set up next to the large grill where Poppy and Barnaby flip meat patties and turn hot dogs. At one table is Sally, Howdy, and Wally while the other is Frank and Eddie. Julie leads you over, taking a seat next to Frank.

"Hello neighbor!" Wally pats the seat next to him. "Come sit with us."

You take your seat, giving a polite smile.

"How was your first night at your new home?" Sally squeals excitedly, leaning over the table.

"It was fine." You shrug. "A little uncomfortable since my mattress was on the floor because I haven't set up my bedframe yet."

"Oh dear!" Howdy exclaims.

"What?" Eddie asks from the other table.

"It's nothing, Eddie." Sally rolls her eyes at him. "So when do we get to come help! Oh! What colors do you want to paint your walls? I was thinking bright! We can magenta or chartreuse or turquoise or-"

"Easy there." Howdy laughs, patting Sally on the shoulder. "I think we'll need to do some repairs before we can get into the decor aspect."

"What needs to be fixed?" Wally asks you in his usual chill manner. "So that we can help."

You raise your eyebrows, mind scanning through the plethora of problems in that house. "The sink doesn't run, there are staples in the stairs, the basement light doesn't work, there are mice and god knows what else, and some of my windows are broken."

Those are just the ones you've discovered so far.

Howdy runs his hand along his chin, "Some of those don't sound too bad. We can take some pliers to the stairs, then hopefully the light just needs replacing and isn't an electrical issue..." He trails off in thought.

"Food is ready!" Barnaby announces. Poppy sets down plates while Barnaby hands out the food.

"Hotdog or hamburger?" Barnaby asks when he gets to you.

"Hotdog please."

Barnaby loads up your plate, "Say, how does the enthusiastic man eat his hotdog?"

"Huh?" You ask, staring up at him.

With a large grin, Barnaby leans in and whispers, "With relish."

You blink, taking a minute to process the joke. Then, you laugh.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week." Barnaby prides himself while sliding Wally a burger.

"When can I get you on stage with me, Barnaby?" Sally bites into her hotdog.

Barnaby shrugs, "Alas, my stardom is meant for small crowds."

Sally shakes her head, "One day I'll convince you."

"I'd love to see it."

You bite down on your hotdog. It's probably the most delicious you've ever had. Does everything in this town taste amazing or are it's residents just master chefs?

"We have to go play lawn games!" Sally yells as she finishes her food. "Wally, you're on my team!"

"What are we playing-"

Sally grabs Wally by the arm, dragging him out to the field before he can protest.

"Want to team up?" Howdy wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"I think I need to digest my food first." You tell him, patting your belly. "Sorry."

"All good." Howdy leans over to the other table. "Hey Edds, you and me?"

"You know it!" Eddie says through a mouthful of burger. He shoves the rest in his mouth, hurrying to stand up. Barnaby and Poppy team up as well, heading over to the group.

That leaves Julie and Frank. Neither seem interested in joining the games. You move over to their table.

"Why don't you just ask him, Frank!" Julie whispers as you sit down.

Frank looks at you nervously, "Julie! There's someone else here!"

Julie sighs, looking over at you. "You can keep a secret, right?"

You nod.

Julie looks at Frank expectedly. He sighs, hands fiddling with a book he keeps in his lap. "Fine."

"Frank likes Eddie!" Julie giggles excitedly. "And Eddie SO likes him back!"

"You can't say that for sure." Frank fidgets. "I was reading a study where they found that people are very unreliable in determining if they are being flirted with or not!"

"But it's so obvious!" Julie groans.

You glance over at the game being played. It seems to be some weird hybrid of croquet and tennis. Your eyes can't help but wander over to Wally, who is holding his mallet like he's never played a sport before. His hooded eyes meet yours, giving you a dazed smile. You quickly look away.

"I just want to wait." Frank shifts uncomfortably. "Just to make sure that he likes me."

"How many signs do you need?" Julie shakes her head.

Frank doesn't answer, he's too busy staring. You look over at where his gaze lands. It seems as if Howdy and Eddie won, as Eddie is jumping up and down in excitement and Howdy is doing an awkward victory dance. They lock arms, swinging around happily.

Eddie trots over to the picnic table, breath heavy from all the jumping. "Did you see that winning shot?" He taps his foot happily, eyes glancing around the table.

"Oh, I missed it!" Julie complains.

"It was a good shot." Frank looks up at Eddie. "Are you good at geometry? The angle on that shot was quite amazing to see."

Eddie gives him a goofy grin. "Angels? No, I'm not really religious." He pauses. "But if you want to talk about it more I'd listen."

Frank perks up, then starts on a long winded explanation about math. You take the opportunity to slip away.

Wally waves you over, making your stomach do a somersault. It seems Frank isn't the only one with a stupid little crush. The way you're practically drooling over him has you embarrassed, it's like you're a middle schooler again. You jog over.

"Want to play?" He asks, holding up a mallet.

"I thought you were in a team with Sally?" You glance over to see Sally standing with Howdy.

"She didn't want to be on my team anymore." He says casually, looking up at the sky. "Apparently I couldn't hit a brick wall even if I ran into it."

You can't help but laugh. Upon seeing you laugh, he laughs along too.

"Well I don't know how to play either, so we'll be quite the team."

"You two ready?" Sally swings her mallet over her shoulder. Howdy has his baseball cap on backwards.

You and Wally line up. What ensues is the most pathetic beatdown you've ever seen. Not only are Sally and Howdy more acquainted with the game, they're also just quicker and more agile than you and Wally. The two of you also have absolutely no coordination skills, constantly bumping into each other and dropping the ball. Wally just plainly face plants several times. Somehow, he always manages to laugh it off though.

When Sally scores the winning point, she leaps into the air, grabbing Howdy by the arms.

"Yay!" She squeals.

"Two victories!" Howdy grins.

Wally dusts the dirt off his clothes. He had tripped again. "I'm afraid I dragged us down." He says, tilting his head as he looks down at you.

You shake your head, "Did you see me out there? I think we're a perfect match." You blush, realizing what you've said. "I mean... perfect match as a team, of course."

"Yes." He echoes. "Perfect match." There's a hidden smile in his words.

You glance over to see Howdy and Sally still celebrating.

"I want to show you something." Wally diverts your attention back to him.

"Oh, should I get the others?" You turn, but Wally grabs your wrist.

"No, I want it to be the two of us."

You and Wally slip away. You feel slightly bad that you're abandoning everyone, but Wally assures you that it won't be for long.

"Right through here." Wally ducks through a small passage in the bushes. The greenery is absolutely stunning here. Are plants usually this green?

As you step from the shrubs, you're greeted with more stunning scenery. Before you are acres and acres of beautiful apple trees. The bright red apples dangle from each tree while fallen ones scatter the ground. It feels like something out of a storybook.

"I like to come here." Wally reaches up, picking you a nice plump apple and gingerly setting it in his hands. "I thought you'd like it too."

"This is so pretty." You stroll through the trees, fingers rubbing over the apple in your palm. This is something you'd like to paint.

"So you're a painter too?"

You pause for a second, wondering if Wally can read your mind. "Huh?"

"Your pants." He points and you follow his gaze. Ah, that's right, you're wearing your shitty painting jeans.

"Yes, I paint." You tell him, turning. He follows behind you as you walk, hands tucked respectfully behind his back. You feel like a fancy Victorian woman and he your eager suitor. "You do too?"

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

He ponders on this. "Still life, mostly." He shrugs. "Apples." He picks one up from the ground, then tosses it. "They're my muse, one could say."

"Oh I see, a muse." You tease him. "Most artists' muses are pretty women or handsome men, you know."

"Does a handsome apple count?"

You laugh, "No."

"Since you clearly have a strict idea of what a muse should be," He trots to catch up so that he walks by your side. "Who is the lucky fellow that is occupying your thoughts and paintings?"

"I don't have one." You tell him very matter-of-factly.

He shakes his head, smiling. "Perhaps you just haven't met someone handsome enough to be your muse."

"Perhaps." You smile back and finally take a bite of the apple. It's ripe and juicy.

"We should paint together." Wally shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Apples?" You ask, raising a brow.

He laughs, "No, not apples... well, unless you want to."

You hold your half eaten apple in front of you, pretending to study it like it's a piece of modern art. "I don't know... maybe I'm starting to see the complexity of it."

"Look a little harder." Wally nudges you playfully. "Maybe you'll finally find your muse."

"This apple is starting to look a little handsome."

"I knew you would eventually see my side of things." He watches as you take another bite.

"Tomorrow for painting then?" You ask. "Apples as our muse?"

"Sounds like a plan."

_____

Beautiful emerald green paint rolls onto the wall as you work. Somehow, it's even more stunning than the sample paint swatch. Your living room is going to look positively royal.

Beside you, Sally leans up, jabbering away, "-And then Julie had to come rescue me from out of the dumpster! Not only that, but the lawnmower was nowhere to be found!" She finishes her story, shaking her head as she applies more paint. "I still wonder what happened to it."

Howdy is on the floor, removing staples from where the ugly shag carpet once was. When he peeled it up, you were thrilled to find out that there were beautiful hardwood floors underneath.

"Do these crazy things happen to everyone in Home, or just you?" You ask with a smile. It's still funny to you how the town is named Home, just another example of how perfect the place is.

"Oh you should see all the trouble some of them get into." Howdy rolls his eyes. "It's only if you're looking for it."

"Have a little adventure, Howdy!" Sally teases.

Howdy pulls out a particularly difficult staple with a grunt, "I've had enough adventure, particularly from that Wally fellow."

You perk up.

Sally laughs, "Do you remember that time he tried to sew his own clothes and got caught in the sewing machine?"

"How did he do that?" You laugh along with her.

"The idiot thought that he had to sew them right onto his body." The corners of Howdy's mouth twitch up.

Sally continues chatting, "There's also this weird thing about Wally, be warned he-"

Howdy cuts her off with a cough, communicating something with his eyes that you don't quite understand.

"Err, I mean, he's just so naïve sometimes." Sally says.

"That's true." Howdy adds.

A silence falls over the room, the only sound being the occasional splash as you and Sally dip your rollers into the paint. It gives you time to wonder what Sally was going to say. Wally just gets so... what?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud, making you jump. Then comes more thudding. You blink, processing the noise for a second before realizing that it's knocking.

"Oh!" You set down your paint roller. "I'll go get it!"

You rush over to the door, slipping through the kitchen. You fling open the door, out of breath from your jog over.

It's Wally, dressed just as dapper as usual. No, he seems more dapper today. His necktie a little straighter and his hair more precisely groomed. The minute his eyes lock on yours he smiles, glancing down at your clothes.

"Painting without me?"

"Well, only my living room." You say, slightly flustered to find yourself in indecent clothes around him once more. You wish you would've been able to change into something nicer. "I wasn't expecting you so soon-" You glance at the clock you had hastily hung in the mudroom. "Oh wait, it's already noon? I'm so sorry, I meant to be ready-"

"It's no worry." Wally assures you, as casual as ever.

"Are you coming back?" Sally yells from the other room.

Wally tilts his head, eyes casting towards the noise. "Oh? There's someone else here?"

"Yeah." You feel bad about losing track of time. You sincerely were looking forward to painting with Wally! "Sally and Howdy are just helping me paint."

"Let me just step in and say hi."

You invite Wally in, leading him to the living room. It's nearly finished.

"Oh, hi Wally." Howdy plucks out another staple.

"You should've invited me, I would've done quite a nice job with the paint." Wally says casually. "It looks nice though, you all did a good job."

"It was kind of a last minute thing." You explain.

Sally sets down her roller, "We had fun doing it! You would've been more help by assisting Howdy with the staples."

"Hey! I can do it by myself-"

You laugh, "I really appreciate the help, guys."

"That being said, I think I have her claimed for the afternoon." Wally slides in. "We're going painting."

Howdy and Sally both take the hint.

"Oh! We can come back later and help." Howdy stands, stretching out his back.

"Bye!" Sally gives a cheerful wave as they exit. "We gotta hang out again!"

You wave back eagerly and they leave through the front door. You turn back to see Wally leaning on the doorframe to the living room, watching you with his relaxed eyes.

"You really did you a nice job on this living room." His voice is ever so soft.

You sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "This place still needs a lot more work."

"I know you can breathe some life into this place." Wally's eyes seem to sparkle. "Homes are very special, you know."

You shake your head, "Are we painting at the orchard?"

"Best place to find apples."

It's not long after that you and Wally have your easels set up in the orchard, plenty of fresh apples on display for references. Wally stands across from you, paint at the ready.

"I'm still not so sure that I understand apples as a muse." You tease, reaching up to tree to grasp an apple. It's just out of your reach. "I bet you think they're complex or something." You mock like you're some kind philosopher, " Apples... the thing that made Newton discover gravity, the so called forbidden fruit."

"Or maybe they're not." Wally reaches up and grabs the apple for you, placing it in your palm. "Maybe they're just apples. Simple."

You take a bite of it.

"I guess I'm getting too deep about apples." You say in between bites, smiling.

He smiles along with you, "Perhaps we should just paint."

"Let's."

You pour over your canvas, examining the half eaten apple with rigor. They are surprisingly difficult to get right. The small spots and stripes make the work tedious.

"How are you doing the shading?" You ask, trying to peek at Wally's work. He shies away, turning his canvas so that you can't see.

"You'll see." Wally smiles. "I want to see your own interpretation, no outside influences."

"Is my work going to professionally assessed?" You tease, still struggling over the shading. "Should I be nervous?"

"Oh, very nervous." Wally replies. After a brief pause, he speaks up again. "What do you think of Home so far?"

"I really like it." You tell him enthusiastically. "I love the views, I love the weather, I love the people."

"I'm glad you like it." He says.

"It's quite lucky I got that house too." You say. "It's insane that there were no other bidders when it's such a lovely place. I'm sure that someone with more money than me could've easily fixed it up and loved it here."

Wally merely smiles and the two of you fall into concentrated silence once again.

You fall into the trance of painting. It's not a feeling you're unused to. There's something about concentrating on the details that just makes you lose track of time. Eventually, you tune back in, taking a step back as you finish your painting.

You're proud of it, you think. You've painted a small, half eaten apple resting in the grass, the field of orchards sprawled out behind it. It's a simple but elegant painting.

"I'm done." You say with a breath, looking up to see Wally watching you carefully. "How much do you have left?"

"Oh, I've been done for a while." Wally beams at you. "I'm very curious to see what you've produced."

Wally saunters over to look at your canvas. His eyes scan the painting, noticing the small efforts you put in. There is truly something amazing about another artist studying your work.

"It feels... happy." He says. "A simple kind of happy."

You pause, then slowly nod. "That's how I feel here in Home, I think." You chew at your lip. "I like it."

Wally takes your arm, leading you over to his painting.

It's... you. You're leaning over a canvas, paintbrush in one hand and apple in the other. Your hair spills in your face and paint covers your clothes. It's clear where he put the most effort in though, in your face. Your expression is one of focus and concentration as you're hunched over, eyebrows scrunched and mouth slightly agape.

It feels happy.

_____

Wally walks you home after you finish painting. He gifted you his painting and you gifted yours to him. He seems quite proud to own your artwork, even if it inferior to his. You're in awe at his skill honestly.

"I had fun today, Wally." You tell him as you reach your house.

Wally lights up, "I had fun too." He lingers at the door for a second, hands shoved into his pockets and painting tucked neatly under his arm. "I'll see you again tomorrow?" He asks. "I'll even help with house, if you want."

You laugh, "That sounds great."

He flashes you a charming smile, "Goodnight, then." He does a half bow, turning and trotting away. You watch him go, heart pumping in your chest.

As you close the door behind you, you can't help but jump and squeal excitedly. This neighborhood is truly everything you dreamed it would be. Your house is coming together nicely, you've got wonderful new friends, and now you've got the attention of a handsome guy!

Nothing could ruin this.

You walk further into your house, stepping into the living room. It's a perfect start, you feel a sense of pride.

Picking up a hammer, you head to a free space on the wall, pounding in a nail. You hang your new painting up, stepping back to admire it.

You turn around, patting the doorframe of the living room before heading upstairs to bed. You've had a long day today and you're sure that tomorrow is going to be just as busy. Your bedroom is less put together than the living room, but the fact that you've made progress prevents you from feeling bad.

As you slip into bed, you hear an odd noise.

You perk up, pausing and listening for the noise again.

It almost sounds like footsteps.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you peek out from your room. The sound echoes up the stairs. It sounds like it's coming from either the kitchen or the living room. You grab the nearest heavy object, which just so happens to be a leg of an easel that you had taken apart for the move. It's a strong wooden beam. You hold it up high on your shoulder.

"Hello?" You call.

The only answer you get is more footsteps.

Your hands tremble as you make your way down, placing your steps carefully. Your mind races through a million scenarios of robbery, kidnapping, and murder.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you decide to make sure you surprise this intruder. You come into the living room swinging.

There's nothing.

You stop and listen for a minute.

The noises are gone. No more footsteps.

You breathe a sigh of relief, running your hand through your hair. It wasn't even footsteps at all, must just be the old house settling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you prepare yourself to go back to bed. Before you do though, you notice something amiss.

Wally's painting had fallen off the wall.

The next morning you're awoken by the sound of loud, unrelenting knocking. You groan, startled and tired. After the incident last night you hadn't gotten much quality of sleep. You know you're just being paranoid, but for some reason it really stuck with you.

You roll out of bed, quickly throwing on clothes and heading downstairs. You wonder if Wally has come to help you fix the house up more.

"Oh my god, hey!" Julie throws her arms around you, giving you a big hug. "I was worried you might not be home!"

"Well, here I am."

"It's break time!" Julie tells you. "No more working on the house, you and I are going out."

You laugh, "Well, I would have to start working for it to be considered a break-"

Julie tugs on your arm, "Pleaseee go out with me?" She blinks up at you with wide eyes. "We'll have so much fun!"

You glance back at your unfinished house, still reluctant to leave. Yet, you grab your coat anyways, stepping out into the sunshine. "Where are we going?"

Julie lights up, "You'll see."

You're lead through the neighborhood. As you walk, you're given the full tour by Julie.

"There's the supermarket." She points. "Oh and that there is Barnaby's house. He's still sleeping at this time of day."

You check your watch. It's nearly noon already.

"That's my house!" She points at a lovely flowered red house. "You're invited anytime, just so you know."

"How long did it take you to fix that up?" You ask, marveling at how elegant yet simple it is.

Julie thinks on it for a second, "Fix it up?" She asks. "It's just... always been that way."

You scrunch your face up, "You bought it like that?"

"Bought it...?" Julie looks up, considering this. "I think... I've always lived here."

She seems confused, so you decide not to press it any further. Has Julie lived here her whole life? Where is her family?

That's when another odd thing strikes you. The entire town consists of single individuals that live alone in homes. You've never heard of such a thing. Sure, a few individuals here and there in homes is normal, but an entire town?

You notice Julie has gone quiet. It's an unusual change from her normally peppy self. You fear that maybe you pressed into something personal.

"This is the post office." Julie gestures, suddenly speaking up again. Her previous demeanor is forgotten now and her lively energy is returned. "That's where Eddie works."

You notice another familiar face poking about.

"Frank!" Julie bounces up and down excitedly, waving her hand.

Frank jumps from the sudden noise, head swiveling to find the source. He relaxes slightly when he sees it's only Julie.

You and Julie trot over to him.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, chin raised pompously.

"What are you doing here is the real question." Julie teases. "Have you come to see Eddie?"

"No!" Frank tenses, eyes looking around nervously. "I just have a letter to send and wanted to make sure that it got here. Mailboxes and so unreliable-"

"Uh huh." Julie can't control her grin. "Sure, Frank."

Frank opens his mouth to say something else, but Eddie comes around the corner just as he does. You thought that Frank already looked nervous, but that is nothing compared to how he looks as he and Eddie make eye contact.

"Oh hey Frank!" Eddie gives a toothy grin, cheeks scrunched up and head tilting to the side.

"Eddie!" Frank holds his envelope to his chest. "I-I've been looking for you!"

Eddie seems to perk up, "You have?"

"Yes!" Frank shoves out the letter. "I just needed to mail this."

"Oh." Eddie takes the letter. "Frank, you know I could've picked it up at your house, right?"

"Well, he wanted to hand deliver it." Julie nudges Frank playfully and receives a glare in return.

"I'll take good care it, Frank, I promise." Eddie tucks the letter into his pouch.

Julie coughs, "Well, we better get going, right?" She looks at you.

"Uh, right." You echo.

"You know, Eddie, I think Frank was talking about lunch?" Julie says. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was hungry! You two should go eat somewhere!"

"Julie!" Frank hisses.

"That sounds fun!" Eddie inputs.

"Perfect!" Julie grabs your arm. "Have fun guys! Bye-"

The two of you quickly stumble away. You can't help but laugh at Julie's blatant matchmaking attempt, Eddie's innocent obliviousness, and Frank's adorable embarrassment. Julie giggles along with you, leaning on you for support.

When you're both far enough away, Julie speaks up, "Do you think Eddie will ever take the hint?"

You shrug, "Only if Frank tells him directly."

"Like that'll ever happen." She lets go of your arm, standing up straighter. "Oh! We're almost there?"

"There?"

"The reason I brought you out!"

"Oh." You reply, following behind her as she picks up speed. "I thought the tour was why you brought me out here."

"Don't be silly!" Julie suddenly stops. "I brought you out here for this!"

You're not quite sure what you're looking at. The bright summer colors of Home are here. They are present in the brilliant green trees with fresh fruit and in the yellow dandelions and white daises and baby blue forget me nots. You've always adored the vividness of the neighborhood, but here...

It just stops.

It's like there's a line drawn in the forest. The fresh flora wilts and dies along it, the line marking there on out as dead.

"Was there... a fire?" You ask.

"No fire."

Even the sky looks bleaker on the other side.

You step back, "Some sort of parasite?"

"No parasites. No fires. No droughts, floods, locusts, or diseases."

You step forward again, gaining a bit of courage. Slowly, you reach out, sticking it beyond the line.

Nothing happens. You feel normal.

"Why?" You finally ask. "Why is this here?"

"I can't say."

When you finally return to your house, it's later than you would've liked. It's past dinnertime and you haven't even eaten yet. As you approach, you notice a familiar face sitting on your porch.

"Hey!" Wally stands quickly, brushing off his pants. "I've been waiting for you!" He adds with a playful tease.

"I like to play hard to get." You prod him back, unlocking the door and welcoming him in.

His large eyes flick over you. You feel like you're being examined. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Julie took me out on a tour of the town." You tell him. "I saw the market, the post office, Barnaby's house-"

"And you stayed in town the whole time?" He presses. "I looked for you, I didn't see you."

You chuckle, "You didn't have to come searching for me, I'm sure you have more important things to do." You avoid the original question. You're not sure why, but you feel like the forest is a secret between you and Julie.

"You are the important thing." Wally follows behind you as you clean up the kitchen.

You pause, then quickly resume your work. "Am I?"

As you reach up to tuck a mug into the cupboard, Wally takes the mug from you, reaching up with ease to place it for you, "I would've imagined that you would've taken the hint by now, but it seems that I must take the liberties myself."

Wally leans on the counter and faces you, "Do you find me attractive?"

You're not sure what to say to that, you sputter out nonsense, "Well, err-"

"I find you attractive. Every part. I find your quips and teasing attractive, your laugh and the way your cheeks scrunch up when you smile, the curve of your lips and the paint droplets on your pants." He takes a second to breathe. "And honestly, there's nothing more in the world that I would like to do right now than to help you paint your house or whatever else you would ask of me."

You wait a moment, processing his words.

"Whatever I ask of you?"

He looks earnest, "Whatever."

You tug him into a kiss, closing your eyes. He seems surprised at first and the kiss is slow and hesitant, each of you too afraid to do much. You're slightly surprised, for such a smooth talker, Wally doesn't really seem to know what to do. Has he kissed someone before?

You decide to take the lead. His lips are soft and gentle as you mouth over his bottom lip, tongue sticking out to play around.

Wally's hands find their way to your waist, gripping you tight as if he's checking that you're real. His thumb rubs small circles at the small of your back.

He seems to mimic you, tongue poking out to prod at yours, eventually making it's way into your mouth to feel around. He's gentle, but he is slowly growing more confident by the second. Wally tugs your waist in tighter and tongue going deeper into your mouth almost possessively.

The intensity of the kiss escalates quickly and you find yourself having to pull away to catch a breath. You open your eyes to find him staring down at you, his normally half lidded eyes wide open and exhilarated, a faint blush scattering his cheeks.

"I liked that." Wally says quietly. "We should do that more often."

_____

Life is great.

You've gotten quite a bit done on the house, mostly with the help of all the neighbors. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom are all finished and you've honestly never felt more at home. When you go to the supermarket, Howdy always greets you with a warm hello and a free sample of whatever the special of the day is. In the mornings, Eddie stops by for idle chat as he brings the mail. Whenever Poppy makes a new treat she comes over to give you some. Even with just a stroll through the neighborhood you're always greeted and smiled at by the other neighbors.

You sit in your backyard, cross-legged in the grass with your canvas propped up awkwardly on your legs. Your brush glides along the canvas, curving around to get the details just right. You bring the brush up to your face for a moment, biting on the wooden end as you think.

"You look cute when you're concentrating."

You blink up in surprise to see Wally leaning on the side of your house, arms crossed.

"How long have you been there?" You smile at him, setting down your canvas and standing up.

Wally merely shrugs with a grin. You run over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He grips onto your waist, lifting you up and spinning around once before setting you back down and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. You hug him, taking a moment to enjoy his masculine cologne scent before pulling away.

Yes, life is great. Wally Darling is yours.

“I was thinking you and I could spent the day together.” He hums.

You nod, “Let me just clean up my painting supplies-“

“Let me help.” Wally follows, carefully taking your paintbrushes as you grab your wet canvas. He trails behind you as you go inside, setting up your canvas to dry in your art room as Wally washes the brushes in the kitchen sink.

When you return, you find Wally with his head tilted and eyes cast towards the ceiling, frozen at the kitchen sink. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence.

“Is… something wrong?”

Wally blinks, snapping out of it and turning his head to smile at you warmly. “No, of course not.” He replies. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh?” You ask, walking up beside him as he finishes washing the last brush.

“You haven’t been to my Home yet.” His half lidded eyes cast towards you.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” You say. “Odd, considering you’re over here all the time.

Wally chuckles, “Well, would you like to go?”

Before you know it, you’re inside Wally Darling’s house. It’s somehow exactly how you expected it to be. Everything is neat and tidy, carefully placed and well maintained. There’s an old charm to the house, as if it stepped out of the 60’s.

“It’s weird being in here.” You say, wandering through his living room. There’s framed photos on the walls of Wally and his friends. You take the time to examine them.

“Why so?” Wally watches you with warm amusement.

“It just feels so…” You stare at a picture of Barnaby holding Wally in a tight hug. Wally looks like he’s being squished. “Personal.”

Wally laughs, “Well, it is personal.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you continue to stare at his pictures.

“No, it’s different.” You tell him. “Somehow it feels like I’m getting a glimpse into your soul.”

There’s a pause.

“Well maybe you are.”

Wally lets go, turning and heading up a set of stairs. “Let me show you my painting room.” You follow after him.

He leads you to a large, beautiful room. With the high ceiling and long window sill big enough to lounge on, the room looks elegant. Coupled with the mass amount of paintings lining the walls and easels of the room, it looks like a modern art gallery.

“Wow, Wally.” You stare at his work, secretly jealous of his technique.

He seems proud of himself. “I think-“

There’s a sudden loud crash from downstairs. You jump.

Whipping your head around, you turn back towards the door. “Did something fall?”

Wally merely frowns. “Yeah. Something fell.” He says, turning his eyes up.

“Oh.” You say. Clearly Wally seems to not be concerned with it, so you won’t be either.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs.” Wally suggests, taking your hand.

The two of you settle down on the couch. You giggle and tease Wally for his old school television. You swear that thing probably is still in black and white.

As you chat, you both slowly inch closer together. It starts with a simple finger brushing at your thigh, then an arm is popped around your neck, and then finally Wally is leaning in and kissing you.

You let yourself be taken by the kiss, planting your hand at the back of his neck and brushing your finger along the base of his soft hair. Wally places his hand on your cheek and you press into it, tilting your head more into the kiss.

Your chest flutters, eyes blinking open for half a second so that you can stare at him. To your surprise, his eyes are already open and watching you. He squints happily at you, smiling into the kiss as he deepens it, tongue pressing further into your mouth.

Wally’s other hand trails down your arm, causing goosebumps all the way. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive roof of your mouth before retreating back.

You feel words pressed against your lips but you can’t hear them. They’re hardly even a whisper, more like he is just mouthing words.

No, he’s repeating something. You try to understand him.

“I love you.”

You blink, pulling away from him.

“I love you too.” You whisper.

Yes, life is great.

Until it isn’t.

_____

Lightning cracks, illuminating the room as you finish up moving some furniture around. You stand with your hands on your hips, staring out at the freshly decorated art room. Finally, the work on your house is all done.

You could hear the wind beat about outside and the hard rain hit your windows. There was something odd about it all, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Storms are natural, after all.

Though, there hadn't been a single storm since you moved in.

Walking through the finished halls of your house gives you a sense of accomplishment. Patting the wall, you glance at the clock.

It's nearing time for you to meet up with Wally. The two of you had planned a date out to the pond to feed ducks, though you suppose that the rain ruined those plans.

You near the window, watching the dreary sky. It's midafternoon, but it looks like it's the middle of the night. Your eyes sweep over the neighborhood, making eye contact with Wally's house.

Wait, no, not eye contact. It's a house, it doesn't have eyes.

Still, the lights are on and now you have this odd feeling in your stomach.

As you look back up at the sky, you think the clouds don't look like regular rainclouds. They seem a sickly black color and you remember the forest that Julie had showed you. The dark clouds remind you of the baren land.

Is this a sign it's spreading? The lump in your stomach grows heavier. You feel dumb for forgetting about it.

You glance at the clock again. Perhaps there's enough time to check before Wally arrives. You rush to your mudroom, tugging on your rain coat and rubber boots.

As you trek through the rain, you wonder if you should've just stayed in your house. The wind moves you about, making you stumble over your heavy boots. The rain blows sideways, rendering your raincoat nearly useless as you're soaked anyways.

It's never rained this bad in the neighborhood. Actually, now that you think about it, it's never rained at all in the neighborhood.

Soon enough you reach the edge of the neighborhood, where the rot stretches as far as you can see. You were right, it seems to be spreading. The rot has crept forward, consuming what was once a small woodsy park path.

You stare down at where the sidewalk ends and the forest starts. Why does the sidewalk stop?

Where is the road to lea-

"What are you doing out here?"

You startle, flipping around quickly. Wally stands in his usual attire, his navy hair and knitted overcoat soaked from the rain.

"I just wanted to explore in the rain." You lie. You don't even know why you lie. You trust Wally.

Right?

Wally glances towards the forest, scrunching his brows, "Did somebody tell you something?"

You quickly shake your head, "No, I was just walking around and... I found this." You gesture toward the forest. "What is this, Wally?"

Wally frowns, looking at you, not the forest. "It's been so warm lately, there was a small fire that lit up the grass around here." He looks up. "We really needed this rain."

It's a lie. Your stomach turns in knots. Wally is lying to you. This rot has been here a while. If it had been a fire, new green growth would've sprang up ages ago.

"We should get out of this rain." Wally says, water dripping down his face and arms. "So much for feeding ducks, huh?" He extends his hand.

You take it, though hesitantly. Before, you hadn't suspected that he would be a part of this, but now nothing makes sense.

"Wally, how did you find me out here?" You ask as you walk with him. "We were supposed to meet up at my house."

"Hm?" His eyes cast upwards as he thinks for a moment. "I suppose I just... had a feeling."

This makes you even more wary and you feel bad for it. You love Wally, and yet you're now doubting his motivations. You don't even know how he would have anything to do with the forest's color.

You and Wally arrive back at your house. You grab a towel for him to dry off with and he rubs it over his plush skin.

Plush skin?

You hadn't thought about it before, but isn't that weird? You look at your own hands. You are definitely not plush.

Wally throws the towel over his head, wringing out his hair. You stare at him and the more you look, the more unsettled you get. He has no nose, is that normal? Something in the back of your mind is telling you it isn't.

Wally's intense eyes peek from behind the towel. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." You shake your head, turning away. "I was just watching you."

He gives a lazy smile, eyes relaxing. "Well, I like watching you too."

You give a laugh, "Thanks, Wally."

He stands, walking over and hugging you from behind. Before, it used to feel gentle and safe, but now it feels like entrapment. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses.

"What shall we do now that our plans have been ruined?" He smiles, hot breath on your neck.

You pull away from him, "Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe rain check?"

Wally's face falls, then suddenly lights back up again, "We could nap together-"

"No, no, I mean, I just want to be alone right now." You tell him. "I just... had a rough night's sleep."

Wally stares at you for a long moment, wide eyes peering into your conscience. Finally, he smiles, "Oh, no worries, neighbor." He hands you back your towel. "We'll do something tomorrow when it's less rainy, right?"

"Right." You nod, watching him head to the door.

Wally grasps the doorknob, turning to you at the last second, "Oh, one more thing." He leans towards where you stand in the kitchen doorway. "I wouldn't go exploring in the forest anymore, too many nasty things out there, if you ask me. Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt." He gives a light smile, opening the door and heading out.

You watch him go, hurrying to the window. You keep your eye on him until he is home.

Something is not right in the neighborhood.

You throw your rain attire back on, determined to get to the bottom of this. You take a deep breath, patting the side of your house.

"We got this." You whisper.

As you step outside, you notice that the rain seems to have worsened. You hold onto the hood of your raincoat, pushing past the wind. When you reach the edge of the forest, you don't stop. Instead, you trudge forward into the rot.

It's squishy against your feet, with the occasional odd lump of hardness. Everything is wilted and scorched. You wonder what could possibly be the cause.

As you wonder, you start to really think about the circumstances in the neighborhood. You lift your hand again, staring at it.

Flesh. You have flesh. Not felt or feathers or fur.

How did you move into a neighborhood with such creatures?

No, wait, how did you move into the neighborhood at all?

You bought the house... but you don't remember any real estate agents or documents.

You... you haven't even been working. What have you been doing? You've just been playing around the neighborhood. In fact, nobody in the neighborhood seemed to have jobs.

Your brain feels fuzzy. None of this makes sense.

You're still hiking through the decay, finding nothing of note. That is, until you see green in the distance. You perk up, sprinting forward.

Yes, there is green grass ahead. Whatever the decay is, it isn't very big luckily.

As you get closer, you furrow your brow.

Somehow, you've ended up on the other side of the neighborhood.

How?

You step onto the grass, realizing you've ended up by the post office.

That doesn't make sense. You walked away from the neighborhood, there's no possible way you ended up on the other side of it.

Perhaps you got mixed up. You turn around, jogging through the diseased wood.

This time, you end up near Julie's.

How do you walk away from something and end up back at it?

Walk around the world.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Wally wanted you away from the forest for a reason. This is his world, and you're in it.

You sprint up to Julie's house, pounding on the door. "Julie!" You yell. "Julie!"

You get no answer, so you move over to the window, shielding your eyes against the glass to see inside.

There's no one there.

You tug your raincoat closer to your body, looking up at the ever blackening clouds.

You have to confront Wally.

Back at your house, you prepare to face him. You're not sure what to expect, but you want to be ready for anything. You dig through your belongings, procuring a baseball bat and a box cutter.

Your house whines against the wind, creaking and settling in the powerful storm. You sit for a minute, putting your head in your hands. All this work on your house, all this friendship, and is any of it real? Nothing seems to make sense. Why? Why is any of this happening?

As you leave, you sigh.

"I'll be back."

The wind catches on your house and it whines louder.

When you arrive at Wally's house, you go to knock on the door only to find it already open. You press it open, keeping your guard up as you grip the baseball bat.

"Wally?" Your voice echoes off the walls as you step inside. It seems awfully dark in Wally's house.

Lightning cracks, illuminating the front windows of Wally's house. For a moment, they are eyes, observing you. The lightning then leaves darkness and you hear the front door slam shut. You turn back towards the door, tugging on the doorknob only to find it locked.

"Caught the snitch."

You turn to see Wally illuminated in the darkness, a figure hanging over his head.

It's Julie. She hangs from strings, her limbs twisted and broken. Her jaw hangs unnaturally slack, face bloodied.

"In fact, I caught everybody." More lights irradiate from the darkness, casting large shadows on the wall as they illuminate the bodies of the other neighbors, all in similar states.

Wally walks towards Howdy, "Too much talking lately, really a shame. I wanted to have you willingly."

You stand frozen, hands still on your baseball bat.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He laughs. "Plus, they're fine." He gestures towards the bodies on strings above him. "I just took away their will. Clearly they couldn't be trusted with it on their own." He clicks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The edges of your eyes crease up. You still don't understand.

"Come, let me explain." He gestures to the couch. You don't move. "Please, sit."

You don't.

Wally looks up. "Home?"

To your amazement, a chair glides over, moving behind you and slamming into your legs, making you tumble down onto it. It slides over to where Wally now sits.

You clutch the edges of the chair in fright.

"That's Home." Wally explains. "Home is... the source of it all. A manifestation of desire, if you will."

You swallow, "It's alive?"

Wally grins. It's wider and realer than any grin you've seen before. "Of course." He crosses one leg over the other. "It's alive just like you and me are alive."

"But you're plush." You tell him.

"I'm built on the desires of thousands of young children across the nation that watched my show." Wally looks nostalgic. "Oh, you were such a dedicated little viewer, you know that?"

"Huh?" Show? What is he talking about.

"You used to sit every night in front of the TV, you know that?" Wally continues. "And you would say, 'Okay, Mr. Wally, show me how to draw!' I taught you everything you know about painting."

... Yes, the show. How could you forget? The theme song starts to play in your head. You loved that show as a kid.

"You loved me so much." Wally sighs. "And I loved you, and then you went away."

"I was an adult." Of course you went away, you couldn't sit around watching TV all day. You had a job, you had a family... your family! How long have you been gone? "I had responsibilities."

"I desired you." Wally looks at you desperately. "You desired a place you belonged! I watched you, how you struggled to fit in, the long hours at work, the family arguments. I made it all go away! You've been so happy-"

"They were struggles, but they were my struggles!" You shout, standing up. "You don't get to decide for me!"

Wally sighs, head falling to the side. "See, this is why I wanted you willingly." He casts his hand up. "Oh well."

You feel tightness tug at your arms. No, it's tugging at your bones. You look, thin wire strings protrude from your arms and spring from your legs, pulling you up towards the ceiling.

"I'll just take away your free will for a while." Wally runs a hand through his dark hair. "Then you'll want to play along."

You can feel the strings scraping against your bones under your skin. You struggle against them, getting yourself tangled in the process.

"What shall we act out first?" Wally stands, pacing around the room. "We did have that pond date-"

You twist, reaching your hand towards your back pocket, where the box cutter is stashed. It's an awkward reach, but you manage to grasp it, pushing it open with your thumb and slashing at your strings. You fall to the floor, grabbing the bat and taking off running for the door.

Wally clicks his tongue, "You were so docile before you knew the truth. I'll have to stamp this disobedience out of you now."

You ram the baseball bat into the door, denting the doorknob until the lock falls apart and you can run out the door.

There's no exit. The forest loops. Surely there must be a way out, right? Where, where...

Wally laughs, "Where are you running to? There's no where to go!"

You don't know, but away from here. You sprint, running towards the only place where you feel safe, your house.

"My little viewer." Wally sounds agitated now. "Enough games. If you come back now, I'll go easy on you."

Over your dead body. You're out of breath by the time you reach your house, slamming the door shut and locking it, back pressed against the door as you pant and Wally begins to bang on the door.

Surely there must be something of use to you. Think, think... where is the exit out of this place?

You hear Wally start to kick down the door. It cracks and starts to splinter with each kick.

One of the neighbors' houses? No, they might've said something.

Wally is stronger than you thought. With a final kick, your door crumbles, swinging open. Wally looks even more deranged now, eyes large and locked on you.

"My dear," he breathes. "Let's be reasonable, come back with me."

He extends his hand. When you don't take it, he frowns, moving forward. He grasps you by your face, fingertips digging bruises into your cheeks as he pulls you closer.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

You press your hands against his chest, trying to push him away. This only angers him more. Wally lifts his hand, readying it to fall down on your face. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for the eventual hit.

It doesn't come.

You open your eyes to see Wally's hand still in the air. Except... there's a string attached to it. Wally's expression has changed from anger to fear, he stares at his arm as another string appears on his opposite arm. You back away from him.

Wally looks at you, "Please, don't-" He reaches for you, only to have his hand yanked away before he can.

It's... your house. It dawns upon you quickly and more strings appear from Wally's skin. He struggles, the strings dragging him.

"Please, please, I can't-"

You look up at your house, reaching and patting the wall. "Take him away."

"Please-"

Wally screams as the strings scratch against his bones, dragging him kicking and screaming towards your basement.

_____

"Oh, I have some drinks in the fridge, let me grab you one!"

You weave your way through the bustling party, dodging Barnaby as he throws grapes in the air and catches them in his mouth and sliding past the way-too-handsy Frank and Eddie.

You're celebrating your finished house, and the party is going spectacularly. Two guests still haven't arrived, but you're not too worried.

You snatch up glass bottles of soda that you bought at Howdy's shop earlier that day and toss one to Sally, who gracefully catches it.

"You've put a lot of work into this place." Howdy says with a smile, leaning on the counter.

You glance over, "Yeah, I couldn't have done it without you guys though, thank you all for your help."

"Oh, you did most of it!" Sally waves her hand.

"It's just what neighbors do." Howdy shrugs.

The doorbell rings and you rush to the door, throwing it open to reveal Julie, holding a small present in her hands.

"Sorry I'm so late, I had to wrap your gift!"

"You didn't have to get me a gift!" You laugh, throwing your arms around her for a big hug. She squeezes you tight before you both pull away from each other.

"No, I really had to." She holds out the gift. "After everything you've done for all of us."

You gently take the wrapped gift as she steps into your house, waving at everybody.

"Hello everybody!" Julie squeals, making her way over to nudge Frank playfully. "And hello, Frank and Eddie!"

Frank turns a deep red, shying away. "It's really nothing-"

Eddie gives a wide smile, gripping Franks hand tighter, "Almost losing all your control makes you confess things."

Julie gives a light smile, "Well, we never have to worry about that again."

You politely set the gift on the counter for later, turning back towards everybody. "Then I propose a toast!"

"We'll need bread for that." Barnaby grins, nudging you playfully. You shake your head with a laugh, gently shoving him away.

Everyone raises their sodas, letting you speak.

"To freedom, to free will, to all of us. It's what lets us choose our paths, chase our dreams, and live life to our own terms. To making our choices, learning from our own mistakes, and creating our victories."

Everyone cheers.

"Most importantly, to you." Julie adds in, pointing her raised glass to you. "You've made this neighborhood a wonderful place."

This makes everyone cheer louder. You bump glasses with everyone, letting Barnaby rub your head affectionately and Sally rope you into a side hug.

"Now open the gift!" Julie claps.

You laugh, grabbing the gift and tearing it open. Sitting inside in a beautiful framed picture of everyone in the neighborhood.

Well, everyone except-

The doorbell rings again, and you politely excuse yourself to answer it.

It's Wally. He looks rough. Dark bags underline his eyes and his usually tidy hair is in disarray. He looks up at your house nervously.

"Oh, hello Wally." You watch him carefully. If you look close enough, you can see the strings buried in his arms and neck.

He holds out flowers, which is nice, you guess. You take them, opening the door for him to come inside. He hesitates, then steps in.

You linger, your eyes following him as he greets everyone else. He got what he wanted, you're stuck here. There's no way out.

You can see his stiff movements, the fish line strings tugging at his skin and bones, uncomfortably present at all times.

"Are you coming?" Julie yells. "Poppy's going to bring out the cake!"

"I'm coming!" You shut the door, rushing over.

It's all okay, because he's trapped too.

80 notes · View notes

sister-lucifer · 7 months ago

Text

What Do The Magic Items Do?

Did you see this poll? Curious to finally find out what your gift does? The wait is over! Here’s what your mundanely helpful magic items do:

Glass Rose 🥀

You’ve been given a beautiful glass rose! When you set it on the window sill to be displayed, the sun filters through it’s delicate glass petals and shines mysterious runes onto the floor and walls surrounding it. Your home is now imbued with plant magic; never again will a house plant, succulent or flower wilt on your watch, and never again will your fruit trees be barren!

Ancient Tome 📖

You’ve been given a dusty ancient tome! The moment it touches your fingers, you can feel its power coursing through you. The veil between life and death has been lifted in your eyes only. You can now see, communicate with, and sense the spirits all around you, in your home and the earth itself. They aren’t all that interested in most small talk, but they give great advice. Listen to them and spread their wisdom! After all, no one understands life like the dead.

Quill Pen 🪶

You’ve been given an authentic quill pen! When you sit down to use it for the first time, you find yourself working with passion and fervor like never before. It’s as if your hand moves with a mind of its own! Never again will you have to battle art or writer’s block, nor will you be dissatisfied that your creation does not compare to the vision. Go forth, and create!

Sea Glass 🌊

You’ve been given a smooth piece of sea glass! When you take it into your hands, you immediately feel a sense of calm flow through you from the glass itself. The spirit of the ocean soothes you, melting away all of the day’s stress and allowing you to complete that task you’ve been putting off for days. If you listen closely, you may even hear the faint sound of a siren song that has been imprinted on the glass itself!

Blank Scroll 📜

You’ve been given a mysteriously blank scroll! When you take hold of it, it doesn’t immediately do anything, but the next time you wonder aloud where a lost object is, it starts to glow. In a moment an image of the object’s location has formed, and the closer you get to it, the brighter it glows. Never again will you spend hours searching for a hair tie or the cap that fell off your drink bottle or that one specific sweater!

Golden Bracelet 💛

You’ve been gifted a priceless golden bracelet! Never again will you be left without the proper outfit or accessory for an event. This magic piece of jewelry can transform into anything that can be worn; earrings, a dress, shoes, what have you, and it knows exactly what you need for that special night out. You’ll forget what it’s like to feel underdressed!

Bejeweled Dagger 🗡️

You’ve been given a wonderful bejeweled dagger! The impossibly strong metal of its blade can cut through anything except flesh. Duct tape, annoying clothing tags, plastic packaging, none of it will ever slow you down now, and never again will you have to explain the embarrassing story of how you sliced your hand open while trying to get the Amazon box open!

Preserved Moth Wings 🦋

You’ve been given a perfectly preserved pair of moth wings! They’re frozen in their resin case, but their magic is not lost. Clumsiness and a heavy-handed nature are no longer your foes. Never again will you accidentally swipe something off a shelf or make the embarrassing mistake of running directly into a countertop while visiting someone’s house. You’re as light as a moth!

Obsidian Mirror 🪞

You’ve been gifted a spotless obsidian mirror! Do you have memory problems? Do you often forget important objects, events, or tasks? Are you often frustrated because you know you’re forgetting something, but you don’t know what? Not anymore, you don’t! When you hold this mirror in your hands and stare into it, it shows you a vision of what you’re forgetting. It also functions as a regular mirror, which is pretty helpful too!

Vial of Glowing Liquid 🧪

You’ve been given a small vial of glowing liquid! If you often find yourself too indecisive, tired, or short on time to make food, this little bottle is going to be your best friend. Just a drop on a plate will instantly transform into the meal you’ve been craving; steak cooked exactly how you like, a PB&J without that one bite that’s just peanut butter! No more fighting sensory issues or a lack of energy just to have a meal. And don’t worry, it’s magic, the vial will never empty!

Antique Pocket Watch 🕰️

You’ve been given a hand crafted antique pocket watch! If you’re often scrambling to meet a deadline or finish that awful task when there’s just not enough time, this magic watch will take a weight off your shoulders. Just click the button once and instantly circumstances will warp in your favor. Your boss just extended that deadline! Your friend wants to come over for dinner, they’ll help you do the dishes in half the time! Sometimes life just goes too fast, everyone needs a bit more time now and then!

20 Sided Die 🎲

You’ve been gifted an ornate 20 sided die! Except…all the sides are blank? That is, until you ask a question and give it a good roll. In an instant the die will come up with advice to aid you in your endeavors! Whether you need to choose between two amazing outfits or figure out how to gently reject that guy from the supply store, this little roller always has just the thing.

What object did you get? How will you use it? And most importantly, will you use it wisely?

#magic #fantasy

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drsugarsweet · 9 months ago

Text

Holding On To Smoke

Haunted Armor!Polnareff x Reader

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Synopsis: Through a stroke of good fortune, you have been placed in charge of an antique home. The former owners only asked that you kept the relics inside, and you agreed. If only they had mentioned that some of the relics aren't as lifeless as they initially seemed...

TW: Implied character death (not reader’s) Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

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A/N: Polnareff is SUCH a sad grieving beast, this only felt appropriate for him.

The home that you've come to enjoy for so many months is old, much older than you. It's full of items you're scared to touch for fear of shattering their delicate nature, of spiderwebs that look too beautiful to break and rooms that you haven't even stepped foot into. There simply isn't enough time or motivation for you to cover all of that ground, and yet…

And yet you notice small oddities that you can't fully explain away. There's odd clanking in the halls that sounds far too consistent to be the pipes. After all, they only rattle when you draw water from them. The rooms you frequent are miraculously free of dust even though you haven't had the time to drag out the duster and rags yourself. It’s hard to chalk up the cold and pointed breezes as a simple draft, and you swear you’ve seen something glowing out of the corner of your eye more than once - only to disappear when you actually look at it.

Oh, and you can’t ignore the massive elephant in the room.

More specifically, the massive suit of armor.

Upon first entering the house, it looked like an odd decoration but hardly one you could complain about. Old houses have weird decorations, right? It made you feel like you were walking into a murder mystery set but your attention was so set on moving in that you didn’t think much of it. It looked regal and mysterious enough to make you ponder over its relevance though. The original owners never mentioned it, did they? There’s no plaque to reveal who may have donned it, who it may have shielded or when. You shrug and decide you’ll research it at a later date.

That later date keeps getting pushed further and further back however. The mysterious old house has its fair share of secrets to keep you distracted - a library packed with dusty old books, a kitchen full of secret panels, not to mention the many, many nooks and crannies you weren’t told of. The only times you ponder about the armor again is when you pass its dulled surfaces in the hallway. It isn’t until you finally decide that a heavy cleaning of the home is in order lest your lungs fill with dust bunnies that the armor finally has your full attention.

How does one clean a suit of armor? You’re not sure. I’s not like it’s been in any books that you’ve read before. A wet rag should at least help with removing the dirt and dust, and you assume that the kind of polish used on metal surfaces in your kitchen could work. It’s a large suit and you know you’ll have your work cut out for you, but something draws you in despite the eeriness of the relic. It feels strange. It feels… Melancholic , somehow. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in the idea that this once belonged to someone, that someone could have lived, breathed, died in those iron plates. Maybe it’s the way the chestplate and helmet have engravings of broken hearts on them that tug at your own heartstrings. Whatever the reason, you feel like it’s your obligation to give this old thing one last hurrah in the way of cleaning it up.

As the rag glides across the faded surface and carries away the countless layers of grime, you start to see the former glory restored. The armor truly does look uncared for, though you aren’t surprised given the state of the house. It only spurs you on as more of that gleaming silver comes to light. There’s so many small details to pay heed to; engravings of hearts and chariots must be carefully detailed, and the sections of overlapping plates require a special amount of focus. At the very least there isn’t any corruption or rusting. It takes hours to clean with the occasional break for refreshments in-between, but pulling away from the now clear (albeit dull) suit sends a wave of relief through you. The low evening sunlight streaking through the stained glass windows of the foyer reflects in a beautiful kaleidoscope on the iron. For just a breath, a brief moment… You could almost swear that the suit of armor is glowing.

The moment passes as the clouds of kicked up dust finally force you to sneeze, and when you look at the armor again the glow is gone. It must have been a trick of the light. With that, you nod and set aside the polish to be done the next day. Perhaps the sheer amount of time or the curiosity that you’ve poured into the armor play a role in why you suddenly feel a sense of longing and connection towards the suit, almost as though you’re leaving an old friend. It’s odd, but you shrug the thoughts away and retire to your room for the evening. The next day will surely be brighter.

Downstairs, the darkness of the dusk is broken by a soft glow.

Weeks pass after your restoration of the armor. The oddities start as subtle movements at first. A hand shifts slightly or the helmet seems to perk in the direction of your favorite armchair; the dust settled around the suit’s base is disturbed, or is it just your imagination? As the house becomes cleaner in more miniscule ways, even that starts to make you wonder if it’s all in your head. You only start to think something is up when you come home from work to find the armor set at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, its gauntlets set against the scabbard of its rapier. It’s not like the suit froze when you entered - you’re sure you would’ve heard the clanking, and it’s just a suit, right? If you weren’t constantly swamped with work you’d almost be afraid of the potential haunting. You know it isn’t some mischievous intruder breaking in just to mess with you; the doors and windows are always the same as they were, and it’s not like anything is missing. There aren’t handbooks on how to deal with haunted houses like this and so you stand in the house’s entranceway, eyes glued to the relic posed mere feet away.

It feels like an eternity that you wait with bated breath for something to happen. When it does, there is no loud scream or rush of metal and pain; no ghastly beasts lunge for your throat, and as you stand gaping like a fish out of water, you realize that the movement of the armor is almost unnoticeable at first glance.

The visor of the helmet minutely tilts towards you and you know for a fact that gauntleted fingers twitch at the scabbard’s handle. The gig is up. You take one step back, and the armor jerks to face you further. Another step, and the helmet is facing you fully, its hand never leaving the hilt of the razor sharp rapier. The door is closed and solid against your back and you’re certain that this is where you will die.

The clanging of metal grows closer and closer with each step of the suit of armor. Even behind your eyelids - when did they close? - you can’t miss the icy blue glow painting the backs of your eyelids in dim light. Your eyes peel open just enough to witness the armor come to a still before you in its pale glowing glory. The finger guards on the scabbard have lifted away and now the suit stands before you motionless yet again, its gauntlets stiffly held at its side. The icy terror that initially held you in its grasp melts into mute confusion and unease. Why isn’t it attacking you? What could you have done to inspire this thing’s movement? Or…

Has it always been on the move?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by another sudden jump from the suit of armor, but this one catches you even more off-guard. In one quick and jerky movement, the suit tumbles down onto one iron poleyn, its other knee bent as it bows its helmet before you. You have no idea what to say, what to do as the massive suit freezes yet again. There’s a moving set of armor in front of you. Holy shit , there’s haunted armor in your house.

For a minute, the two of you stay there in frozen time. The armor doesn’t move but it glows and pulsates with faint blue light. You don’t move aside from the slowing rise and fall of your chest. There’s a tension so palpable in the air that it surely could be cut through like butter with a hot knife, but you have no idea what to do or say to your unexpected housemate.

The first noise to break the room isn’t from you. It starts out so quietly that the rush of blood in your ears drowns it out. Slowly and drenched in uncertainty, a noise no louder than a whisper seems to fill the room. There’s a pause, and then the noise again, and again, growing louder with each confused blink it draws from you. The moment that it grows loud enough to register properly to your ears is the moment that you realize that it’s a voice echoing around you. The voice is hoarse and strangely hollow, but it sounds almost like a man. It echoes again from the suit of armor and you realize that it is speaking to you .

“Please… Give me an order.”

The stunned silence plaguing your voice is hard to break. Break it you do, but only because the tide of questions thrashing against your skull threatens to consume you.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps the right question would be who it - he - was. You begin to regret not looking up the source of the armor sooner. The voice goes silent and the glow swirls in a mesmerizing miasma of dull silver and ice. Whatever haunts this armor seems to form the strongest beneath its chestplate and helmet, and for the briefest of moments you wonder what you would see beneath the visor. As though it can sense your innate curiosity amidst the waves of confusion and fear, the being raises its helmet a fraction as though it were looking at you. The feeling of eyes becomes strong and yet oh so familiar.

“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. You have laid claim to this land. I pledge my loyalty to you, to protect you and honor your every word.” The helmet drops again and the regal being donned in iron waits ever so patiently for your words. With its hand on its scabbard and that plasmic echo fading in and out like a heartbeat, it truly bears the visage of a noble warrior.

Okay, what the hell are you supposed to do about this?

There’s a fucking ghost knight in your house.

After a very rational and intense moment of thinking on the matter, you do the only thing that sounds right when confronted with such a ghostly specter. It doesn’t matter that it hasn’t made a move to harm you. You reach behind you, feeling around until you can grab the doorknob to the front entrance. You throw open the heavy door before hauling ass into the chilly night air, refusing to look back once lest the point of a rapier be the last thing you see.

You’ll find a hotel or stay with a friend for now. There’s no way in hell that you’re going back to your house, no way that you’re reenacting some stupid horror movie scene.

You go back to the house two days later.

Maybe it’s the twinge of pain in your shoulder and neck from sleeping on an uncomfortable futon. Maybe it’s the reminiscing that you’ve had time to do on the whole matter. You’ve never felt unsafe in the house; melancholy, sure, pensive if you stood in the right spot. You never felt afraid though, so why is the memory of the one that called himself Polnareff lingering in your mind?

The old home looms over you as the gray skies threaten to douse you in rain. Despite the being that you know lurks inside, the building itself doesn’t feel ominous. It feels like a rundown old manor and you can’t come up with a good reason to avoid going in any longer. The stone steps are slick beneath your shoes and with a mighty groan, the door swings forward into the foyer.

You aren’t really sure what you expected. Images of torn tapestries and broken mirrors came to your mind at first, like a raging beast rampaging in a bout of anger. The light of the day floods the foyer, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is no such damage. As a matter of fact… There is no sign of the suit of armor at all. It isn’t at its base in the middle of the foyer. You know you should be on high alert, but the lack of surprises lulls you ever so slightly.

It feels silly to call out for another person in your own house, so you decide to take your chances and look around instead.

The den is free of the suit. You find yourself oddly disappointed.

The kitchen likewise lacks any spectral beings, and so too does the rest of the first story.

The memory of the first time that you saw the armor moving towards the staircase comes to mind, and your eyes travel up and along the mahogany banister towards the silent second story. If there were anywhere that your unassuming houseguest would be, you have a strong suspicion of its intended destination.

The doors to the library creak open as you peer inside and to your unexpected relief, a flash of iron catches your eyes. You push further in to be greeted by the broad, shining form of the suit of armor. Its helmet has tilted slightly back as though to acknowledge you but it has not moved. That glow remains but it is more dull than last time, the colors barely touching the dusty books and desk it stands in front of. That acknowledgment is all that you need and you take a deep breath of the stale air.

“I’m… Sorry. Sorry for how I acted last time. I wasn’t expecting you and I was scared, so I ran.” It’s an apology you never felt that you would make, but it feels wrong to leave things as they were. This thing has likely been here longer than you have been alive; the aura of sadness and mournful longing around it tinges your heart in a way you never expected.

The armor turns to look at you further with a set of clangs and you catch a glimpse of what its broad form was hiding. You haven’t had time to get a good look at the library beneath all of the blankets of dust, but the crest hanging on the wall is one you don’t recognize. The symbols of hearts and horse-drawn chariots bear a striking resemblance to the engravings on the knight’s armor. You startle as you realize that the very same insignia was on the paperwork that you signed to properly take ownership of this house.

The suit turns fully to face you and you swallow down your nerves. This could either go really well or really poorly based on how good you are at offending ghosts.

Its visor tilts to one side, then the other. It takes a step forward, and this time you stay where you are willingly rather than freezing in fear. Another step is taken. Another. By the time that your distorted face is reflected in the large breastplate of the armor, you realize just how cold the room has gotten around you. That visor leans down to look at you and you look up into it as icy tendrils of mist curl from beneath the edges. When the gauntlets reach up and towards you, it’s a miracle that you don’t feel fear. All that you feel is the strong wave of melancholy that you first felt upon stepping into this house, and you wonder just what this soul has suffered to exude such strong feelings of sadness.

The gauntlets do not reach for you, though they do briefly cradle your own hands in chilled metal before continuing upwards. The guarded fingers come to rest at the edges of the visor. Tendrils of ghostly energy curl at the iron knuckles, and it freezes like that. It’s as though it’s waiting for your order. With a flashback to the last meeting, you blink away crystals of iced tears that you didn’t even realize had appeared and answer its unspoken question.

“Show me your face. I want to see the knight of this house.”

You aren’t sure what to expect. There are no rules that could have prepared you, no pictures or carvings or films. The glide of the visor up and into the iron helmet is silent as it reflects the light. Whoever this man was, he is nothing like you expect, and that’s a pity because he is refined and elegant and somber in the way that only a lost soul can be.

Your hand shakes as you reach towards the visor. Crystals of ice gather on your fingertips as your eyes roam over the misty face of the man that once was. Sad eyes like faded seaglass stand out amidst shadows of sharp cheekbones and shroud-like silver hair that dances like spider silk in the wind. He speaks of tragedy and heartbreak without saying a word, and the brush of your fingers on the frigid iron of his helmet finally breaks what fear remains in your heart.

“You’ll protect me?” The words are barely a whisper, but you don’t have it in you to speak any louder.

The ghost - Polnareff - nods. Somber as he may be, you swear that the corner of his lips turns up for just a moment. That air of melancholy lifts ever so slightly from your heart, the glow of the being before you so much more vivid than before.

“I swear to you, as is my purpose. You’ll never be alone.”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #Doc's Fics #jean pierre polnareff #jjba x reader #monster au #teratophillia #stardust crusaders #jjba polnareff #sfw #polnareff x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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