#CW: attempt at humor
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(Sorta Kinda) Little Mermaid AU
Dream is the king of Atlantis, Orpheus is his only son who is all about that land stuff, and Hob is a (human) thief being transported with other convicts to a penal colony.
Orpheus likes to stalk all the ships that enter Dream's territory. He's always looking for new land stuff merch to add to his growing collection: human apparel, shiny trinkets, barrels of rum, sentient beings to adopt...
He really likes it when it storms because stuff falls overboard! And when the entire ship sinks? It's like the local mall just announced a 100% off sale of every item ever. Blood is to a shark as land stuff is to Orpheus. He goes fucking nuts about it.
And it just so happens that the ship carrying Hob is passing through Dream's territory.
So as Orpheus stalks this one ship, the Karmic Justice Or Something Like That, he sees Hob looking dirty and miserable on deck. But like, come on, he's still Ferdinand Kingsley so of course he's still handsome. And Orpheus is like, 'If anything falls overboard, I hope it's that one.'
His wish is granted. One night, a violent (non-magical) storm hits the ship, and Orpheus swims straight to Hob, who was one of the humans thrown overboard. Then, through some merfolk magic, he gives Hob the ability to breathe underwater and withstand oceanic pressure.
And then he cheerfully drags the very confused two-legged human back to Atlantis.
(RIP to the other humans who weren't as pretty as Hob.)
Hob is understandably going ????. Is he dead? Is this hell? Oh lord there is a kingdom under the sea, and merfolk are just like humans but instead of legs they have fish tails.
Freaky.
But! Before Orpheus could have his wicked way with him (because of course he'd want to), the TSA guards of Atlantis spot them, and they do their jobs and bring the prince and his illegal cargo to the throne room (for the 4th time this month), where Dream is of course fucking livid that Orpheus dragged not just another illegal upperworlder stuff, but an actual human back to Atlantis.
Orpheus does the whole 'But Daddy I love him!' speech while Hob is floating on the side being like, "We literally just met and you kidnapped me."
"I kidnapped you from certain death!" Orpheus says.
Dream has no time for this. He may have been lenient on Orpheus adopting drowning sentient upperworlders in the past, but after he stole Dream's symbol of power in order to turn Aristaeus the goat into a mergoat and failed (because he's not powerful or focused enough), Dream is going to have to intervene.
"You love this human?" Dream asks his son.
"Yes, Father," Orpheus answers promptly.
"You want him to be a part of this family?"
"Yes, Father."
"Then give him to me," Dream says. "I'm going to have him for a year, and if at the end you still love him, I will turn him into a merman."
"Don't I have a say in this?" Hob asks.
"Of course you have," Dream says. He even inclines his head like an asshole nobleman. "Decide whether you want to agree to this deal or die right now of drowning and oceanic pressure."
Hob looks around at all the shiny things and decides, fuck it. He's gonna live and he's gonna steal from these half-fish bastards and escape back to civilization and live a rich man's life. So he agrees to the deal.
Orpheus sulkily agrees as well. A contract is drawn. It looks less ominous than Ursula's contract with Ariel, being in bullet list form in very readable dyslexic-friendly font.
Hob has to spend an entire year with Dream and be whatever he wishes him to be (like a servant or chauffeur or whatever, which Hob is fine with as long as they shelter him and feed and clothe him well),
Orpheus has to spend an entire year away from Atlantis and vacation in the other Endless siblings' territories ("Because distance makes the heart grow fonder!" Orpheus claims), and
Dream has to spend an entire year with Hob, test his loyalty, intelligence, wine pouring skills(?), etc. (If he's joining the family, Dream needs to know what exactly he's going to be dealing with for eternity.)
...and at the end of the year, if Orpheus still 'loves' Hob, then Dream is going to turn Hob into a merman and he's gonna live the rest of his life as Orpheus's human-turned-merfolk companion.
If Orpheus doesn't 'love' him anymore, then Hob is free to go. He can return to the human world with some compensation in the form of precious jewels, or if he decides he likes it here in Atlantis, then he's free to stay as a companion-free merman.
All three of them sign. Orpheus swims away accompanied by some bodyguards to his uncle-aunt Desire's territory, determined to 'love' Hob until the year is over.
Hob is left behind with Dream, who doesn't really know what to do with him. Should the human be his cupbearer? A guard? Puffer fish juggler during feasts?
"Do you have any skills?"
"I'm good at stealing," Hob answers, because it's true and he's not ashamed of it. They better be prepared to get things stolen from them.
Dream sighs. "Anything else?"
Hob considers the huge merman before him, easily twice the size of his son(?), and decides, you know what? Yeah. Why the fuck not? If he's gonna be stuck in this guy's company for a year, he's going to be such a thorn in his side and make it so awkward that the king would be forced to send him back (with precious jewels) to the 'upper world' before the year is done.
"I'm good at sucking cock," Hob says, because it's also true. "That is, if you folk have similar appendages."
Dream has a lightbulb moment. Hob is easy on the eyes, and with only a thorough scrubbing and some meals, fine clothing for his body, elegant hair accessories, he would look very fine and presentable indeed. And moreover, it would mark him as Dream's personal concubine. In a year, (and even if Orpheus had object permanence), his son wouldn't want him.
It's actually very unlikely that Orpheus would still 'love' him by year's end, anyway, even if Dream doesn't make Hob his concubine. Orpheus is very distractable and is capable of moving on quickly. (Aristaeus the goat, for example, had only been mourned for ten whole minutes.)
Satisfied, Dream smirks at the human before him, tosses his long hair over his shoulder a bit like the slut he is, and says, "Are you offering your services to me, little human?"
And of course it's only now that Hob sees Dream's beautiful face and sexy upper body, which has previously been hidden under his curtain of long dark hair. (In Hob's eyes, he had been dealing with a male Sadako underwater. Please give him a break. It's been a very stressful day.)
Hob realizes that he has severely miscalculated. Because even now, he wants to lick whatever appendage this gorgeous creature has. A year? He's gonna want to be here for eternity because holy shit the king is gorgeous and a total DILF.
They fuck. Because of course they do. Right there on the throne room. Everyone's seaweed salad is ruined.
(But fr, Hob is having the time of his life. Dream and his cock are so huge it brought out Hob's latent size kink tendency, and he can shapeshift as well. Hob gets fucked with dozens of new and exciting appendages. There's like an entire Bad Dragon catalogue down there.)
Dream announces that he'll be working from home for an entire year and assigns Lucienne, Jessamy, and Matthew to oversee things he wouldn't be able to for that duration because he's Busy.
He says this over ye olde Atlantean seashell cellphone as he's fucking Hob into the mattress.
When Dream has to show himself to grant Atlantean citizens their weekly audience, he does so with Hob warming his dick as he sits on the throne.
Thankfully, Atlantean citizens are less prudish than upperworlders, because if they get turned on, they just masturbate right then and there, no problem at all. Really, as long as anyone doesn't touch Dream or Hob, then it's fine.
Hob, prudish upperworlder that he was, discovers that he thrives in this kind of exhibitionist play. He realizes that he loves being on display and seeing Dream's subjects pleasure themselves while looking at them. (Even Corinthian, the head of the royal guards, jerks off just a step down from the throne, eyes on the place where Hob is joined with Dream. Hob doesn't know if Corinthian wants to be Hob, be Dream, or be sandwiched in between the two of them. He doesn't ask because Dream is obviously a jealous bastard.)
And every day that passes, Hob gets increasingly addicted to Dream (not just his cock/s), and Dream is increasingly growing fonder of Hob. They realize that they actually like spending time together, even when they're not physically connected.
Dream laughs (his creepy frightening laugh) over Hob's stupid upperworld jokes, wonders at Hob's unconventional solutions to his citizens' problems, and mourns with him when he finally tells Dream about why he became a thief in the first place.
Meanwhile, Hob listens well to Dream's personal problems and never gives advice unless Dream asks him to, gives Dream new songs to sing and melodies to play, and holds him whenever he dreams of the night Orpheus's mother was taken from them and killed by upperworlders hundreds of years ago.
It's so very clear that they're meant to be together, but they're pretty stupid and don't realize that they have fallen in love with each other.
The Atlantean citizens grow to respect Hob and not just lust after him from afar. He's very kind, and the unconventional upperworlder solutions he proposes when Dream is giving an audience work out surprisingly well. Soon, he's being referred to as Consort Hob, and is given gifts of gratitude. Just small but heartfelt things like fresh produce and homemade jams.
Hob likes being given gifts. A thing that Dream notices early on so of course he immediately sets out to spoil Hob. (Especially when he found out that Hob grew up impoverished.) Does he care that he's one-upping his own citizens with his lavish gifts? No. A subject's gift is different from a lover's, and Hob likes all the gifts anyway. He doesn't even complain when Dream tears off his own gifts from his body only a minute after Hob puts them on.
As the year is slowly coming to an end, they fuck more often, and lowkey desperately.
Hob thinks Orpheus will still want him at the end of the year. Dream thinks Hob will want to go back to the human world and he'll never see him again.
As we have previously established, they're both idiots, so they only confess their true feelings to each other like, on the day before Orpheus is set to return. And then, knowing that their feelings are requited after all, they fuck again, but this time it's the slow and very gentle lovemaking (TM) kind of sex that lasts the entire night full of soft 'I love you's and new sensitive spots to discover and obsess over. It's great. We want what they have but we also love that they have it with each other.
In the morning, Dream is determined to persuade Orpheus to give Hob up (in the unlikely event that Orpheus still wants Hob), and Hob is determined to stay with Dream and willing to help Orpheus find someone else.
All their worrying is for naught because Orpheus returns with Eurydice (a mermaid) in tow, and says that they got married like...11 months ago.
Dream is a little hurt that he wasn't invited to his own son's wedding, but Orpheus tells him he could just marry her again. It's not like they're lacking funds or need to fill up 10,000 government forms.
Hob is just so relieved that he almost kisses Eurydice in gratitude. (He doesn't because Dream is a jealous bastard who will no doubt misunderstand this very upperworld gesture.)
Dream tells Orpheus that he's gonna marry Hob. Orpheus says okay and is very chill about it. Dream tells him that it would mean that Hob is going to be his stepfather. Orpheus needed a moment to process and come to terms with that, but comes out of his shock still supportive.
Eurydice is a very nice merwoman who is also supportive of Dream and Hob's union. They find out that her family's kelp farm benefitted from Hob's advice so now Orpheus is definitely pro-Hob.
And then they get married! Dream with Hob and Orpheus with Eurydice (again). There may or may not be babies that resulted from Dream and Hob's very vigorous union--that depends on the reader's personal preference, but the point is that they all lived happily ever after. ✨️
#CW: attempt at humor#CW: merfolk having different morality from humanfolk#true to form I am (almost!) late for mermay#it's the adhd#listen i know i basically said king triton x prince eric but under rule 34 that pairing exists#2000 plus words again good gods who is she#good job my thumbs#dreamling#the sandman#my writing#mermay
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Sidney thinking Alastor's gonna save her.
Alastor: Oh don't stab her there Mimzy, you'll get blood everywhere
Mimzy: I know what I'm doing!
They just start bickering and Sidney is just like whyy
(Sorry couldn't resist my humor is also broken)
I needed to illustrate this:D Who needs to sleep at night anyway?
(for the context)
#ask#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel mimzy#human alastor#human mimzy#human au#cw murder attempt#cw dark humor#myart#hazbin hotel#murder besties#hazbin oc
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why do you censor your mouth area? is it to hide the glaring five o'clock shadow around it?
no, sorry, it was to hide your dad's pussy in it, I respect his privacy
#and now we get to the “wave of transphobic anon asks” portion of the trolling#they'll make a few half hearted attempts at it#i'll reply with dumb jokes#and then theyll go back to their sad and lonely lives where they alienated all of their friends to hate#and now spend their time making dumb comments at internet stranggers#but its fun! adds a little spice to my inbox#and so adorable#cw transphobia#cw humor attempt
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Who the fuck is TX2 and why did I find a video where he suicide baits in response to a teenager who criticized his music?
#i have never heard of this artist until a few days ago when one of the metal subreddits cross-posted a tiktok he did promoting a new release#and holy shit his music sounds like hot ass#also idrc how much of his persona is just a bit or him being satirical; he seems like a very unappealing and insecure guy to be around#the excessive tiktoks responding to criticisms or attempting self-aware humor is obnoxious#cw suicide mention
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youtube
#worms#team17#game#cutscene#cartoon violence#cw weapon#cw firearms#cw gun#grenade#landmine#cw stabbing#crude humor#cw suicide attempt#cw war#worms 1995#worms 2#worms world party#worms 3d#worms mayhem#worms forts under siege#worms open warfare#worms open warfare 2#worms a space oddity#worms battle islands#worms revolution#worms wmd
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This is not funny.
#cw suicide#cw sui mention#cw suicide treated as a joke#cw suicide attempt#not funny at all#not a joke#not a meme#not humorous
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# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!
CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]
୨���┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader
୨୧┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.
୨୧┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe
୨୧┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡
MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.
You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.
"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.
Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.
'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'
"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.
Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.
Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.
You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.
Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.
"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.
Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.
God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.
You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.
Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.
Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.
Easy.
But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.
This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.
And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.
Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.
Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.
The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.
Overall it was big, and intimidating.
Just like him.
'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’
*BEEP BEEP*
Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.
Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.
Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.
"You busy daydreaming or what?"
Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.
“So, new truck huh?”
"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."
You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.
Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."
You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?
Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!
Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.
Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.
"Huh? W-what do you mean?"
"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."
Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"
"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.
Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!
You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.
There’s no damn way…
Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.
This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.
You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.
This was crazy.
Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”
Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”
“Yeah it is!”
“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”
That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.
- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -
After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'
Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'
Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.
The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.
Not like it was meant for him anyway.
Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.
As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.
But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.
Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.
This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.
Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.
After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.
Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.
Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.
You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.
Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.
Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.
Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.
You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.
Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.
Everything was going fine.
You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.
“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.
Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!
Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”
“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.
“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.
You weren’t going anywhere.
So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.
Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.
He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.
“S’not my money anyway..”
Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.
There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.
Keyword: Trying.
Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing.
You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.
It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.
What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"
This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.
At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!
Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.
'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'
"The fuck are you doing?"
The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.
"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.
'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.
That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.
Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.
"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.
Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.
Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.
"Lift your arms up."
Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.
"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."
"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."
Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.
Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.
He put his coat on you.
You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.
"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."
"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."
Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.
- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -
Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.
"Cinnabon? Really?"
"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.”
You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."
“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place."
He still remembers something like that?
You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.
Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.
The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life.
The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.
Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap.
Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate.
'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'
Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips.
After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water.
Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.
"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.
He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin."
Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating.
"How come you didn't get yourself one?"
He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes."
"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.
It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.
"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"
"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.
"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."
"It is." You sighed.
"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities."
"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.
As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away.
"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."
"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.
"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."
"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.
Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something.
"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"
And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.
It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’
"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?"
You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?
Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.”
He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.”
He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say.
Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.”
Toji stayed silent.
The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again.
What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.
Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.
You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."
Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now.
But then it got him wondering…
"You ever had a boyfriend before?"
The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life.
"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.
Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?"
This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless.
You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"
That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."
Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask.
One thing he simply had to know.
"Oh yeah?"
"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."
Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.
"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"
"Well…not exactly.."
Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.
"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?
And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.
"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot."
"Sounds like some shitty friends."
You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."
Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.
Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"
Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.
"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"
Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence."
Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe.
"It's why I've never gone further than that."
If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity.
Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.
Speaking of telling him…
‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’
You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.
"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"
Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.
“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.
“I mean yeah…but still…”
Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.
“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.
He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.
“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”
“No problem.”
You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles.
Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips.
Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself.
‘This little minx..’ but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.
“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”
With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys.
You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.
“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.”
Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.
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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.
On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating.
Baby steps are still steps after all.
And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.
‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’
Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console.
Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.
“Yo, what’s up?”
Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.
“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-”
Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.
Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right?
“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”
“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”
Toji ignored the snark.
“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?”
“I…wasn’t saying anything.”
Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.
Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.
“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.
“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.
Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.
You nearly teared up at your own naivety.
Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad.
- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -
On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.
One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.
“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.
Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.
“Fuck.”
- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -
Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.
“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”
Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket.
“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.
Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it.
‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’
Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.
- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -
You couldn’t sleep.
Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!
Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.
Only one option left.
Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch.
Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone.
As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this.
Toji.
Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his.
You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now.
You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside.
Just a little more…
Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.
You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.
Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?
In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.
“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.”
You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.
Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”
You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit.
Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.
Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around.
Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.
No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.
And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.
Wait.
“Wake up.”
What?
“Wake up!”
Is that my fucking cat talking!?
“WAKE UP!”
Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.
“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties.
You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up.
Ugh.
Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down.
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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on.
Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it.
You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all.
And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.
Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.
With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.
A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.
You giggled to yourself.
“Mama chose a thought daughter.”
© SUGUCIDAL 2024 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.
#୨♡୧ — 𝐉𝑼𝐉𝐔𝐓𝑺𝑼 𝐊𝐀𝒊𝐒𝑬𝐍#⸼ ׁ꒰ ᵗᵒʲ��� ᶠᵘˢʰⁱᵍᵘʳᵒ ꒱ ׁ⸼#neighbor! toji x reader#neighbor! toji#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro fluff#toji smut#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro smut#toji x reader#toji x you#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#toji fluff#toji fic#toji fushiguro fic#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro fanfic#toji fanfic#toji fushiguro series#jjk self insert#jjk fic#jjk series#jjk fluff#jjk toji
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heat
part two of "cottontail"
CW: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, heavily suggestive, profanity, bunny mutation + spring = fun times, girl imma do my best, this took forever, might be a little long, etc.
As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was worried about you.
In his two-hundred years of living, he had never met someone as hot-headed and brash as you—and that was saying something. But as your you-appointed new best pal, he resigned himself to making sure you didn't piss off the wrong people.
Though it was a nice change of role, seeing as he wasn't the loose canon for once, he couldn't help but begin to grow significantly concerned for your safety.
It wasn't that you were a bad person, far from it, in fact.
Always greeting him with a sweet mornin', Logan!
Always checking up on him after missions.
Always inviting him to "sparring sessions", which would inevitably turn into you two striking up conversation about anything and everything under the sun.
Not to mention you were a humongous flirt—Jean called it being "overly friendly".
She noted that you didn't flirt with any other guys like you did him.
You always gave him those cheeky smiles that seemed to irk him to no end, and put that flirty lilt in your voice when you spoke. Not to mention the constant compliments, which would stick with him for days, sometimes weeks.
But that all stopped about a week ago.
After a day of you acting incredibly off—no jokes, no laughter, little talking—Ororo said you suddenly came down with a "spring cold", but that you'd be up and at 'em soon.
Well, soon hadn't come yet, and Logan hadn't heard anything from you in days.
A spring cold couldn't last this long...
Was it the flu? Was it something else?
And why did everyone else seem so unbothered by it?
These thoughts swam in his head every time he passed your locked door.
Until he finally had enough.
The night everyone went out for a field trip to the county fair, Logan stayed back, opting to visit your quarters with a few choice words, and a container of chicken noodle soup.
When he reached your door, he gave it a soft rap.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Only after a third—more aggressive—knock, did you finally answer.
"Yeah?" you called, your voice low and croaky.
He'd never heard you sound so defeated, and almost... pained.
It made something pang in his chest.
"That must be some cold," he quipped, attempting to play off the feeling with humor.
"Logan?" you asked, sounding shocked. "What are you... What do you want?"
"I just came to give you some soup. Jean told me it's good," he answered, glancing down at the bag in his hand. "S'been a while since I've heard from you."
He waited for a response, but when you never gave one, he began to feel stupid.
This was a mistake.
"Look, I can just leave it outside the door if you don't wanna—"
"No," you interrupted, still sounding strained. "You can come in. Just leave it on my dresser."
A little confused by your tone, he entered nonetheless, boots clicking against the hardwood.
And what he found was concerning.
Your room was a mess—furniture askew, clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor, a rumpled mess of sheets on the bed.
The smell in the air was thick with sweat and something else. He looked toward the king-sized bed where a heap sat hunched underneath the sheets
"(y/n)?" Logan called, brows furrowed with confusion and worry as he placed the bag on the dresser.
"Don't come over here!"
You sounded so distressed, in such discomfort.
What's going on?
Why did you sound like you were in trouble?
Ignoring your warning, he slowly stalked closer to the bed, taking slow, tentative steps—now able to hear your soft whimpers and grunts of pain.
"(y/n)?" he questioned, firmly.
You stirred, reacting to his voice, breathing raggedly as if you couldn't get any air in your lungs.
"(y/n), what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Whatever it is, I can help."
But you turned away, the sheets shifting with you.
"You can't," you whined, "You can't."
Patience running thin, Logan stormed over and snatched the sheets off of you. And there, under the covers, he saw you with his own two eyes.
You were curled into yourself, tail significantly fluffier than he remembered, and ears droopier than he'd ever seen.
Through your thin tank top, he could see your nipples were hard and perky, the shorts you were wearing barely covering your ass cheeks.
'Goddamn...'
When you looked at him, your face flushed red, pupils dilated beyond belief as you covered your face with embarrassment.
You trembled in your skin, tail twitching with discomfort and unease.
"I told you not to come over here," you panted, curling further into yourself. "Didn't want you to see me like this..."
You winced, squeezing your thighs together tight, looking to be in complete agony.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm in heat," you sighed, the cat pretty much out of the bag. "S'cause of my mutation. I can do everything a rabbit can, and go through everything a rabbit goes through. No matter how fucking stupid."
You wiped the sweat off your forehead, your curly hair soaked in it.
"S'why I've been hiding," you explained. "I've been tryna get through this, but I just... can't!"
Now he understood.
Your absence, your uneasiness, the smell of something in the air.
You were horny.
"How long's it last?" Logan curiously asked.
"Depends. Could be a week, could be a month..."
"A month?" he stated, surprised. "Are you in pain?"
Your face screwed tight, triggering something in his core.
"Yes," you groaned, hugging yourself closer.
You looked away from him, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pained him.
He had to help.
"What can I do?" he suggested.
You turned to him, eyes widening. "What?" you asked. "What do you—"
"I wanna help you, cottontail," he cut in, already kicking off his boots and taking off his leather jacket to reveal his sexy, white wife-beater. "So tell me what I gotta do."
You watched him, looking completely stunned and mortified, but your pussy throbbed at the sight of his outfit.
"No, no, Logan," you protested. "Y-You can't... you don't need to do this."
But he stood firm in his decision, refusing to leave you.
"I know I don't need to," he firmly responded. "I can't let you go on like this."
"It's okay..." you assured. "It'll probably be done by the end of the week. You don't—"
Before you could even finish, his hand grabbed your face, pulling you close and squeezing your cheeks, his tone demanding.
"Don't protest. Don't argue. Don't push me away... Just let me take care of you, alright?"
His gorgeous brown eyes, filled with the promises of safety and acceptance, bore into yours.
How could you deny him?
"Okay," you caved, leaning into his touch.
"Good girl," he cracked a smile, lips suddenly swooping yours up in a firm kiss.
You let out a soft, eager moan as he scooped you up in his arms, the man letting out a quiet chuckle when you squeaked, your feet dangling off the ground.
While still kissing you, he sat himself down on the bed and plopped you in his lap. His soft lips and tongue made you squirm in his lap, brushing yourself against his quickly hardening cock in his jeans.
"Can I touch your ears?" he whispered, breathless. "'N' your tail?"
Gently, his hand moved down to your ass, caressing your cotton tail. Your toes curled, your body tingling from the sensation.
"Y-Yes," you shakily replied. "Go ahead."
And when his fingers began to lightly brush and stroke your bunny ear from base to tip, you nearly had a full body orgasm, your pussy growing wetter with each pass.
"Fuck..." you gasped. "Yes, just like that..."
Logan smirked as he watched your face contort in pleasure, his ego growing with each whimper.
"Like that?" he asked, teasingly, his cock throbbing at the sound of your pitiful whine in response.
Over these past few months, he'd had countless dreams about having you just like this. And now that he was, he could say with certainty that it was far better than any fantasy.
Gently, one of his big hands slid down between your thighs to pet your pussy through your panties, while the other continued to stroke your ears.
Your mouth fell agape, pleasure coursing through you.
"Oh, fuck," you moaned, tilting your head back as his fingers ghosted over your clit.
You began to shamelessly grind your pussy into his fingers, turning Logan on even more.
"Needy little thing..." he chuckled, amused. "Adorable."
Under his firm gaze and insistent fingers, you nearly came apart at the seams. But before you could, he pulled away, scooping you up with one arm, much to your surprise and arousal, and sliding himself further down the bed.
With a grin, he dropped his head into the pillows, shifting and forcing you to hover over his face.
"M'gonna taste you, now," he stated, as if it was a fact.
You whined in response, moving to grab the headboard as he pulled your panties to the side, giving your pussy a quick peck before completely dropping you on top of him.
"Logan!" you half-moaned, half-screamed, eyes blown wide with pleasure.
You tried to brace yourself, but it wasn't long before he made you a writhing, whimpering, whining mess.
"Ah, Lo, yes!" you cried. "Oh, fuck! Right fuckin' there! Right fuckin' there!"
You were loud and vocal, much to his enjoyment.
He was having the time of his life, massaging your ass and sucking your wet pussy, your juices dripping down his chin.
He even groaned and grunted into your pussy about how good you tasted, only making you wetter at seeing such a stoic man lose his shit over you.
"You want a finger, baby?" he growled, voice slightly muffled. "Talk to me. Tell me what chu want."
"Please," you whimpered. "Fuck me, Logan! Make me come!"
Logan smiled, slowly inserting one of his thick fingers into your hole while his lips gently sucked on your clit.
You nearly screamed, bawling at the pleasure.
"Oh, my God!" you sobbed. "Shit, Logan, I'm gonna... I'm gonna.."
Your orgasm slammed into you without a second thought, drawing a string of slutty moans out as you came all over Logan's tongue.
"That's my good girl," he smirked into your pussy. "So fuckin' good f'me."
Your orgasm was so strong that you began to tremble, the aftershocks taking over your body.
The release helped with the pain... but it still wasn't enough.
You needed more.
Suddenly, he took hold of your chin, staring into your eyes as if he could peer right into your head.
"Do you want more?" he asked, cockily.
Slowly, you nodded, tears pricking your eyes at how much to needed this.
"Yes, Logan," you pleaded, your arousal making you bold and unashamed in your need to be fucked. "Please give it to me. I don't care how you take me. Just please..."
That was all he needed to hear.
He gave you exactly what you wanted and more. The man fucked you, and he fucked you good. He gave your little body everything it needed to knock out those horny thoughts and relieve you of your heat.
In almost every position, too.
He fucked you in missionary while standing up, his hips pistoning into yours while your feet dangled in the air, his hands pinning your thighs apart and making you take each deep, long, slow stroke that had you seeing stars and frantically rubbing your clit watching his handsome face contort in pleasure.
He fucked you while standing up, your little body bouncing in his arms as you fucked you up and down on his cock, your arms wrapped tight around his neck, your tits pressed flush against his pecs, and your lips locked with his in a passionate, sloppy, wet kiss.
He fucked you on your side, his big body curled around yours and his cock nestled between your ass cheeks before sliding inside you again, your leg hiked up to get deeper.
He fucked you on all fours, using your ears to pull you back on his cock, your back arched and ass stinging from random spanks while he pounded into the deep, wet heat of your pussy that squeezed and griped him for dear life. When you tried to rub your clit, he smacked it away and rubbed your pussy for you.
“Uh-uh,” he growled. “No touching what’s mine. All you need to do is cum. Can my little bunny do that?”
You didn't even answer—you couldn't. But your loud moans and sobs bouncing off of your walls are all the answers Logan needs as he fucked you faster, harder, making your clit sing and pleasure zip through you.
When you felt your last orgasm of the night zip through you, you let out a broken whimper and came all over Logan's cock.
Triggered by your orgasm and sweet little sounds, Logan gripped you tighter and pounded into you without mercy, until he finally released, too.
“Oh, fuck!” he gasped, his loud groans and grunts echoing throughout the room, triggering another mini-orgasm that made your pussy quiver and drip down your thighs.
Logan came deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. He even had enough to give you on your ass, pulling out to spray your perfect cheeks with more of his seed, pumping his cock furiously behind you.
A smile stretched across your face as the aftershocks began, practically melting into the sheets.
You were sweaty, winded, soaked, tired, and covered in cum...but you’d never been more satisfied or happier in your life.
Logan finally settled down beside you, turning you over to face him. He gave you a small smile, his face hot with stray hairs sticking to his forehead.
“Better now?” he murmured, gently stroking down your back.
You wordlessly nodded, a small, tired hum leaving your lips.
“Good,” he nodded, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Get some rest.”
And just like that, you were out like a light, softly snoring into his chest, your body curled into his side.
You couldn't wait for next spring...
#james howlett#james howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#mcu#mcu x reader#wolverine x reader#x men#x men x reader#wolverine
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Well, scabs are a thing. That’s basically like the blood equivalent of a corn chip.
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not sure if someone already asked it and I couldn't find it or not, but I wanted to ask what program you use for drawing?
also absolutely love your human!Alastor and Mimzy art, it's one of my favorite pieces to come back to every once in a while to re-read the little comics you made
Aw, thank you! Glad that you enjoy my murder besties comics✨
I usually draw in Photoshop or Paint Tool Sai. This sketchy comic I drew in Photoshop, for example.
(And yeah, CW: murder attempt, also dark humor I suppose)
(continuation? Anyone?)
#ask#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#human alastor#hazbin hotel mimzy#hazbin mimzy#human mimzy#human au#myart#cw murder attempt#cw dark humor#murder besties#hazbin oc
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I hope you meant it to be dropped here 🥺
So, about jealous Y/n: I had been thinking about this after seeing the episode where Beth (that runner-woman?) appears. I thought about the scene, with "y/n" either getting to know he was handed a paper with a number
Or maybe Aaron and "y/n" had been running together and Beth approaches without any care and reader just is like: 🤨 watching the interaction, lol
knowing you
🤭 cw; JEALOUS fem bau!reader, teasing banter (hehe r and aaron are sooo in love), suggestion/sex allusions (i'm blushing), based off of aaron and beth's first interaction in 7x10 wc; 1.3k
"Okay, okay." You panted, coming to a stop. You directed your voice forward, loud enough for Aaron to hear you, a few feet ahead. You resumed walking, slowly, hands on your hips. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"
"What's wrong?" Aaron asked as he met you halfway, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "Can't keep up?"
"I can keep up jus' fine." You insisted, still catching your breath. The afternoon breeze blew into your face, cooling the sheer layer of sweat that had collected. "Just... not for a prolonged amount of time. There's a," Another staggered breath, "difference."
"Is there?" He asked humorously. His chest rose up and down, regulating his own breathing as well. "I can easily go another mile or two.
"Fantastic. I'm so happy for you." You quipped sarcastically, causing him to laugh and a smile of your own pulling at your lips. "And that's why you're the one participating in the triathlon. Not me."
"You know..." He began proposing in a light tone of voice, eyebrows raised wittingly. "There's still time for you to sign up."
"You know, you're funny." You bantered back, a pained expression pulling onto your face at the mere thought. You shook your head, "I think my time is better spent cheering you on from the sidelines, along with the others. And then reviving you afterwards."
"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. All banter aside, he switched tactics, softening to a sweet sincereness. "I appreciate you accompanying me. Seriously. You know you don't have to run with me, although you do inspire me to persistent. Gotta impress you, keep you interested."
"Please, as if there's anything you could do to cause me to become uninterested." You poked a finger at his chest. "And if running means I get to spend an extra hour with you, I'll gladly accept. Besides, there's something in it for me too. Makes it all worth it."
"And what's that?"
You looked around, spotting a park vendor supplying drinks, playfully brushing his question aside. "Want a water?"
The warm glint in his eyes lingered, admirably amused. One that read: you were the most difficult person he'd ever met, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Sure, sweetheart."
"I'll grab it," you began walking, "You stay here. Catch your breath."
Aaron grabbed your hand the moment you had stepped a foot away, smoothly drawing you back with just an equally suave grin. Once in reach, he placed his lips onto yours, interrupting your growing smile.
Your nose scrunched when the two of you parted, "You're all sweaty."
"That's never been a problem before." His smirk returned, the wet cowlicks draped over his forehead bringing a multitude of images to come to mind.
This is why you ran with him. You'd never deprive yourself the hot visual, one you'd never get tired of. The overexertion, the sweat, the defined athletic wear clinging onto his body, the heavy breathing too.
You playfully rolled your eyes, granting him another kiss before you trailed off. You steadied your breathing again, in attempt to slow your heart rate a second time.
Retrieving the waters couldn't have taken you more than five minutes: waiting in a small line, supplying cash, issuing a thank you. But when you turned back towards Aaron, your feet already moving to their own accord, you stopped short - suddenly. As he wasn't alone.
He was talking to some woman - brunette, in workout clothes of her own. Her backside was facing you, so you couldn't see any specific features; to determine who she was, a familiar face or not.
You tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of jealousy filling your body, drawing the conclusion that she wasn't an old friend rather quickly. It started from the bottom of your stomach, crawling up your spine, spreading widely to your limbs.
Could it be harmless? Sure, that's what you were telling yourself, until the woman in question handed him a small piece of paper. She began to retreat - finally - causing a breath of relief to escape you, until Aaron calls after her.
When she turns, you're able to see her face. She’s cute, all smiles and outwardly confident. She responds to whatever he said, follows it with a laugh, before continuing her jog.
You bit your lip, returning to Aaron with a bit more urgency, your ponytail gliding swiftly between your shoulder blades.
"Here," You handed Aaron his water, your gaze moving past him and continuing to watch her leave. As if she can feel your stare, she looks back. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn she gave you a cunning smirk.
Your jaw clenched, nothing but that red-hot jealousy overtaking you. It blocks out all of your surroundings - Aaron's going on about something, but you don't hear him. He's muted, fuzzy, far away. You don't realize he's talking to you until he says your name, with a tad more volume.
You startle, blinking, "Sorry, what?"
"I said, do you want to go again? Or we can take a slow, evenly-paced walk back." His lips turned upwards humorously, taking a drink. "More your speed."
He's attempting to resume the ongoing, fun banter to draw your focus elsewhere, knowing you.
"Who was that?"
"Oh, nobody." He shrugged, securing the cap. "She just, er, handed me this." He explained carefully, holding up a small piece of paper.
He did it quickly; again, making it as nonchalant as possible. But even at the heightened speed you're able to see her number scrawled across the surface.
You immediately impede forward-
"Sweetheart," Just as he expected - he grabs your arm, holding you back from any impending confrontation you were set on.
"She gave you her number?" You looked at him, perplexed. The audacity. "Did you see the way she looked at me? She probably saw us kiss and yet-"
"I know, I know." He comforted, his voice a deep contrast compared to yours, hardening the more you spoke. He can practically feel you vibrating in fury. "Hey, it's okay. I'm discarding it, of course." He crumbled it in his fist, "Have zero need for it."
"But that doesn't excuse what she just did." You try to look past him again, but he uses his body to shield your view. "And I don't like it. Not at all."
"You're right, it doesn't, but it's okay." Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering his next sentence into your skin. "I'm yours. Nothing changes that."
"Damn right you are," you huffed, crossing your arms. Despite the distance (she's almost long gone by now), you're at the ready to grab Aaron, to kiss him fiercely if she ever so lightly takes a peek back.
"Forget about it, and I don't mean that in a dismissive way. Look at me when I say this," He tossed the paper in the nearby trash, grabbing ahold of your shoulders instead. "I'm uninterested. Unfazed. Utterly in love with you and greatly anticipating showing you how much once we're in the privacy of home. Preferably in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards."
He manages to pry a smile out of you, a blush forming at your cheeks, although it doesn't dissolve your pout just yet. "But..."
"But what?" He asked gently as he releases his hold, swiping his thumb across your cheek soothingly.
"What if she can run faster than me." You mumbled pitifully. You said so half jokingly, half seriously.
Aaron laughed warmly, spanning an arm over your shoulders and pulling you directly to his chest. "I highly doubt that."
"You promise?"
"With every ounce of me."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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Uh just a thought:
cw: yandere, cussing, bad grammar, scara being scara, Childe is Childe, fatui, blood is mentioned at least 1 time
Imagine a Y/N\Reader who does everything for their family, so like your brother/sister/mother/father anyone you love!! got super sick and the cure for it is expensive as hell! (8,765,432,765 mora)
So you work for the fatui to get better expenses, you were skilled enough to immediately be recognized by your superiors—ahem, harbingers— and the first one to recognize you was Childe. Childe is just so down bad for you, he loves fighting with you, anything that gets your attention, if he could, he'd always have you by his side when he does missions.
And there's this thing, your fellow friend (who's been to the fatui far longer than you) in the fatui had a gambling habit and would make bets. One time they talked about giving away millions of mora to whoever gets to be The Balladeer's secretary and survive for 3 months.
You, eager for the mora, you immediately did too well, acted like you were obsessed with him to amuse him, did so many things to the point of getting Scaramouche's attention, he finally made you his assistant.
Of course Childe is pissed as fuck. How dare this midget get you before him??!!
At first Scara was just humoring your fake obsessive behavior just for entertainment, telling himself he'd throw you away soon and laugh at your fake reactions.
3 months passed and Scaramouche started humoring another fatui agent in an attempt to get you to break and snap and make you jealous, you used that opportunity to slowly part ways from him. He took a whole week to notice how you were basically disappearing from his life. You didn't leave the work though, you did the remaining paperwork and missions before disappearing.
Scaramouche who slowly notices the difference in his life when you left, you left a great impact in his life. This new fatui agent he humors doesn't do as well as you do, they keep fucking up to the point that Scara doesn't find it funny anymore. Yeah, he admits, your perfectionist personality helped a lot in his work, you were boring yeah, but at least you got the work done! After yelling and punishing the fatui agent for fucking up again, Scara grits his teeth and walks out to cool himself down.
But that's where he saw you sparring with Childe. Childe is out here feeling gleeful that you were finally back to him, while you just went back to him because you are an agent under him.
The sparring ended with Childe winning, you almost won, but Childe was stronger as expected, he walked up to you and almost gave you a kiss before you pushed him away, shocked. Childe frowns, he keeps you caged in his arms, he doesn't care about the dirt, blood, snow, and sweat that mixes when he has you in his arms, what matters is you.
Scaramouche, gritting his teeth in anger and getting more frustrated and annoyed than ever—why is that obedient pet of his with Tartaglia?— he's mad.
You felt that cold and electric glares sent to you, you nudge your head and saw Scaramouche watching the both of you hug with a blank face, fffuck. You were not supposed to be seen by Scaramouche.
And Childe notices it too, he smirks and holds you closer, nuzzling his cheek on your hair.
Scaramouche was about to rush into both of you and demand an explanation, but why does he care? He isn't supposed to care about something like this! He always said he could replace you anytime, but he never said you could replace him.
I want to add more harbingers to this thought, imagine Columbina and Arlecchino 😻
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x reader#reader#yandere fatui harbingers#fatui x reader#fatui harbingers#genshin impact fatui#yandere scaramouche#yandere childe#yandere tartaglia#genshin yandere#yandere thoughts#genshin thoughts#yandere genshin imagines#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x reader#childe x reader#childe#scaramouche#scara#scara x reader#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia#childe tartagalia#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin impact
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Okay, "It's a full-circle today for my father and I," also feels so much like it's right out of the end of a horror movie that I want to shout.
Yeah it was already revealed earlier in the episode but the delivery and the music and the reveal to the rest of the party with their confused reactions was *chef's kiss*
The insects right before are also excellent.
I have to say, having an unmistakable monster-fucker moment while your ex-something turns their transformation on the enemy ("I have never seen anything so beautiful, and I certainly won't leave her alone, and I have never seen Maw looking like she was on the back foot.) followed by an emotionally charged magic chant that builds into raw screaming at the climax is extremely effective in endearing me to the characters involved.
Dr. Elsie Roberts and Rajan Savarimuthu might be my favorite Tide & Bone members at the end of this episode.
#Candela Obscura#Candela Obscura spoilers#Candela 3-1#Cosmo Grimm#Oscar Grimm#horror cw#bugs cw#maybe my perception of horror is extremely influenced by a particular series#which by tradition always required some sort of twist at the end that attempted to re-frame the context of some or all of the entire story#but damn if I'm not a sucker for that kind of thing.#also not here or there but honorable mention to the last (iirc) line of Lost Boys though that was played for humor rather than drama#still got the same reaction out of me :D:D:D
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Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)
masterlist | taglist: @pricegouged
babysitter!reader x single dad!price
cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI
this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant
Banner by @cafekitsune
>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.
You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.'
It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight.
Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him.
The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot.
When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.
You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.
Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -
And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"
"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."
"You look silly. You need to clean up."
"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"
But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.
You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left.
"The bathroom over here?"
"Dirty girl, messy girl!"
"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'
It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.
John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.
In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat -
Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.
Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.
"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.
Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"
John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.
"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"
"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."
John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."
And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."
The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.
You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared
Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."
When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."
You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.
"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?"
John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -."
"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot.
***
When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.
It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you.
Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult.
(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers.
You decide you're going to steal it right then.)
He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.
The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.
When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.
Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.
Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.
"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down.
"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.
John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."
A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected.
"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.
You've been there before.
"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."
Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular.
John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."
Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.
A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.
"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.
John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.
It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre
***
Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family.
It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm.
Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home.
It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.
By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.
That fucking door.
"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.
"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."
It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.
He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"
"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.
"And Emily behaved?"
"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.
"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"
You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"
"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."
"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."
"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."
"But… Wait, I can bring him?"
"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."
"But that's clear across town?"
"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."
"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"
"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."
You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."
The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."
You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate."
Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."
Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"
John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."
"Um. No. Thanks."
He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.
Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.
Like, extremely certain.
But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.
In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream.
Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.
"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.
"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."
John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."
"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."
His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket.
"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.
"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.
"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.
"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"
"Right. Um. Thank you."
"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.
John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.
John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.
In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.
#and again a massive shoutout to 3amfanfiction for looking it over#where would i be without you?#john price x reader#captain john price x reader
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Red and Green Flags of Some of the Hazbin Hotel Cast
the title says it all! i'm just blurbing about some red/green flags they have when ur dating them :)
🥀Cw: nsfw mentions but nothing explicit, mostly crack and fluff and maybe the slightest angst when it comes to red flags
🥀Pairing(s): Adam x reader, Alastor x reader, Vox x reader
Adam
Green flags
INSANELY loyal. this man was cheated on twice and left for the same guy. if he's in a serious relationship with you i genuinely can not see him cheating bc this man is genuinely so devoted to you and only you. he's had his fair share of hookups but very very very rarely commits to a serious relationship, which means if he does, you're not only very special but he genuinely thinks you're "the one". when it comes to these serious actual relationships (not just hookups or situationships) he's very very loyal and would never think of cheating on you. he also dates to marry when it comes to serious relationships and will genuinely try to make the relationship last. this also means you get to see a side of him that most people don't get to, and he's generally very soft with you. he treats you so much better than everyone else and expects everyone else around you to do the same
adam is very supportive of you- he definitely gives off "THATS MY PARTNER‼️" vibes. while he likes to think he's in charge, if you change your tone towards him he immediately agrees with you like a hurt puppy. if you have any important decisions you want to make he's much more likely to compromise or agree with you than if anyone else was suggesting an idea. adam can be irritating, but when it comes to you, he's absolutely wrapped around your finger. your also the only person who can make him knock it off when he's patronizing someone and you're also the only reason sera has not attempted to strangle him because you've been keeping him in check since you both started dating
adam always has your back and is on your side no matter what. there is no devil's advocate for him, if his partner is in a fight with someone he's automatically on their side. adam is absolutely the type to tell someone off for shit talking you and is also the type to tell you if someone was being rude to you behind your back. he's also not the kind of guy to shit talk you behind your back and gets pissed at guys who complain about their wives and stuff like that. if he has an issue he tells you to your face and doesn't believe in hiding anything in your relationship.
Red Flags
adam is very insecure about his masculinity even if he doesn't want to admit it and this can be problematic in your relationship. he puts on a lot of appearances around others and acts much more confident when he is, and sometimes his fake persona can piss you off a bit because he genuinely treats you so differently in private versus in public. he also very rarely takes off his mask around you, especially early on into the relationship. in reality it's because he's insecure about how he looks, but he'd never actually admit that (at least early on) so you're stuck in a loop of asking him to take off the mask, him making up some bullshit lie about how he can't, you getting pissed at him and the mask, and him getting more insecure bc he thinks you don't like him anymore. eventually it ends with a conversation about how u love him regardless of what he looks like, but it takes time to get there that might be irritating for you
he is INCREDIBLY clingy, and also huge on PDA- but like even if its not the most appropriate time, he's pulling you onto his lap or slapping your ass or something like that. he also will make a lot of lewd and inappropriate jokes in public- we know he's childish and he is the embodiment of middle school boy humor. you guys could be out in public just trying to have a cute date but he always ruins the moment by making it sexual or making a shitty joke. adam is also very unaware of his surroundings and horrible at reading people so you could be extremely uncomfortable and he just... wouldn't notice unless you told him so. adam isn't great at expressing intimacy nonsexually (he was quite literally created for the sole purpose of populating earth, and a part of him still lowkey thinks he's only good for sex ☹️) so he ends up accidentally turning non-sexual moments sexual. he isn't trying to annoy you, but it can seem insensitive.
pisses you off on purpose. adam does care about you and your feelings but he also can be childish. he'll see that your pissed off and will make a joke only for you to get even more angry at him, but he'll get super defensive even if he was in the wrong saying he was just trying to make you laugh. he will feel very bad afterwards tho, especially if you cry or get really upset because, as i said before, he isn't great at expressing himself and genuinely doesn't mean to hurt you sometimes
Alastor
Green Flags
very respectful of your boundaries. relationships are new to him after all, and he isn't the most expressive lover, so alastor knows that dating him can be tough. he never pushes you too hard or forces himself on you, and he takes your opinion into consideration a lot when it comes to decisions or dealing with life in general. he always asks before taking your hand or kissing you, and he initiates most of the courting process, not wanting to put too much pressure on you. when you first caught feelings for him you were genuinely so scared that he wouldn't even want to be friends with you anymore, but once you found out he reciprocated your feelings, at least in his own way, you were elated. this lead to him being the one to initiate most dates and things like that, at least early on, so that he could show you he was serious about treating you well. you definitely recieve top tier princess treatment (regardless of gender)
protective, but not in a limiting way. if you're dating alastor, then you have to have been friends for at least a while before officially getting together, and he also has to trust you a lot. alastor always wants you to be safe, he knows how cruel hell can be, and he knows that others can use you to hurt him. however, he also trusts you and your strength, and he tries to keep a decent balance of protecting you but also letting you make decisions for yourself. you both definitely have conversations about him sending his shadow to watch over you when your away, and he prefers to have you by his side more than anything else
alastor is very emotionally intelligent and is great at reading people. this skill comes to use a lot and you both very rarely argue over anything because he's very quick to notice when something is bothering you. he's also great at communication, and isn't afraid to sit down and have a conversation with you about how you feel about him and how he feels about you. when it comes to your relationship he wants to make sure you both are on the same page, and yall are the type of couple to have monthly check-ins where you sit doen and just talk about what you're feeling. this leads to a lot of open conversations with alastor, and overtime it made your trust for him grow. he would never tell anyone anything confidential about you, and he genuinely views you as his equal.
Red Flags
alastor does not like change, which means he is not great at adjusting his own behaviors. this also means he refuses to catch up to modern technology and trends and is overall very outdated. he'll get irritated with you for using modern slang he doesn't understand, but will refuse to actually learn the slang terminology. while his class and refinement is attractive and well-meaning in most cases, in some situations it can definitely cause some friction between the two of you. he never wants to watch a movie with you, or go to a nightclub, or even attend concert with you because they're all "too modern" for his tastes. then he'll turn around and get pissed if you invite someone else! alastor also pretty much refuses to take photos with you and avoids most technology all together. i genuinely think he does have a phone, but its super outdated and he is the absolute dryest texter. he will just leave you on read most of the time and doesnt understand why its a big deal
he is not very physically attentive. while we know that alastor is definitely not a fan of being touched, there are moments where he will just randomly start being very touchy with you, but won't let you reciprocate. like he will completely invade your personal space at the most random lowkey inconvenient time and start showing you affection, but when you try to reciprocate he just gets icked out and pulls away. alastor doesn't even explain himself either, he will just... walk away. he doesn't understand that you have very different needs than him and is always confused as to why you're so touch starved. he's giving you attention, isn't that enough? he just doesn't get that theres a vast difference between him looming over you and practically leaning on you, and actually cuddling him and showing you affection. he also will randomly just disappear for days on end. like one day you'll be hanging out going on cute romantic dates to cannibal town and literally being fine and then the next he's gone with no note not information, you just wake up and he isn't there. alastor gets better at communicating his absences once he realizes how worried it makes you, but its certainly alarming in the beginning of your relationship because you think he's upset with you when in reality he's just fucking around and finding out doing god knows what. it takes time for the both of you to find a happy medium ground where you can satisfy your own physical needs while he can also take his own space, but once you do, your relationship goes a LOT smoother.
Vox
Green Flags
Very devoted to you. vox is the type of guy to be absolutely WHIPPED for everything his partner does, and he is not afraid of showering you in affection. while he does find public image important, in his mind, you're the most important and valuable thing in his life. he wants the world to know that you belong to him and that he belongs to you, and he is NOT the type of person to be embarrassed about his partners quirks
He prioritizes satisfying your needs and feelings. whether its sexually, physically, or emotionally, vox is always willing to provide you with comfort. he would never want you to be left unsatisfied or needy, and really wants to be enough for you. vox is self aware and knows that he isn't perfect, but he always gives you more than the bare minimum. his work schedule is a little wild and he always feels bad about not getting to spend time with you so he schedules out full days that are dedicated just to you. he's very attentive and is pretty good at noticing when something is wrong, and he has no qualms about approaching you about anything you might be facing.
trusts you. a lot. in the beginning of the relationship less so, but over time he gradually opens up to you more and more. you are definitely vox's favorite person without a doubt, and he makes sure you know it. early on in your friendship, before you even started dating, vox found himself falling for you. he really didn't want to fuck up what he had with you and wanted to make it clear that you meant more to him. in the beginning of your official relationship, especially during the honeymoon phase and first couple months, he's SOOOO nervous. vox very rarely lets his guard down around others, but with you, he feels his walls instantly shatter. he doesn't understand why he's so drawn to you, but he loves you because of it. he finds a lot of comfort in you and your one of the very few people who have seen him at his worst.
Red Flags
vox sometimes thinks he knows whats best for you, and will act on his own accord to make decisions for you, especially early into a relationship. vox knows hell is dangerous and he knows that there are people who would hurt you to get to him, and he wants to keep you safe more than anything. sometimes he'll watch you on security cameras without your consent, or he'll track you on your phone to know where you are. if you ever found out he wouldn't see the issue until you explained it, but if you really, really had a problem with it he'd stop.
he can be manipulative without even realizing it. vox is surrounded by cruel, nasty people most of the time and will take his own nastiness out on you unnecessarily. like you both will be in an argument and he won't even listen to your side because he just automatically assumes he's right. he'll be condescending and try to change your mind rather than hearing you out. this is obviously very frustrating on your end because, while vox isn't always aware of it, he's still treating you like shit and just trying to manipulate you. i also think he'd accidentally hypnotize you sometimes. like you both would be arguing and vox's hypnotism would just start and he wouldn't realize until he noticed that you were just staring blankly at him. he would feel SO guilty about it though, and it would probably eat at him for a while. you're the person he cares about the most and he genuinely doesn't mean to hurt you, and he definitely does not want to hypnotize you without your consent. vox loves you because youre YOU, not because you listen to his every word like everyone else in his life. it honestly makes him insecure, and he starts to worry that maybe it isn't the rest of hell that he should be worried about hurting you, and maybe its himself thats your biggest threat. PLEASE comfort him he has the emotional capacity of a brick and cares about you too much for his own good. over time his toxic manipulation and cruel behaviors stop, especially towards you, but it can be very, very tedious in the start of your relationship.
mansplains. this is moreso a personal pet peeve of mine and as much as i love and adore vox he absolutely would mansplain and would get pissed when you don't listen. he would also get pouty if you already understand what he's talking about or just brush him off. sometimes it can be kind of endearing though when he's infodumping, and over time his mansplaining slowly forms to infodumping to you. its kinda cute how his behavior changed to match yours, and how excited he gets over sharing shark facts with you.
loved writing this sm this was lowkey an excuse to just psychoanalyize my favs- will prob do a pt 2 once i finish all 500 of my other WIPS + requests lmao- this was originally gonna include luci but i couldn't think of enough red flags and i was also very tired so im sorrryyyyyy he'll probably be in pt 2 😭
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❝late-bloomer❞
plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.
a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha
Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"
You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.
You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."
No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.
But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."
"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."
"I'm serious, Pete."
He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."
"How did it feel? Do you know?"
"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."
Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.
You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."
You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.
A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."
Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"
A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.
You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.
But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.
At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.
Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.
But it wasn't laughing you worried about.
"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.
Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."
Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.
Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.
"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"
There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."
Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"
"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."
"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.
You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.
It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."
You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."
You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.
Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."
It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."
"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"
"I really don't want to. Move."
"Why are you shutting me out?"
"Because I want to go home. Move."
"Is it because of what I said?"
"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."
The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.
Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.
"I'll see you later, Pete."
You let his front door shut on its own.
It hasn't been great.
What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.
You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.
So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.
It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.
And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.
Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.
You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-
He's sitting in your kitchen.
Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.
You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."
Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."
Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"
"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.
You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."
"Busy avoiding your best friend."
You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.
The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.
"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."
Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.
"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."
"It's not a big deal?"
"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."
"So it doesn't matter at all."
"Correct."
"Right."
"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."
You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.
Suddenly, you're released.
You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."
You smile, "And I appreciate that."
Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"
"Zilch. Nada."
"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."
You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"
"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."
Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."
"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"
"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."
"And now we do."
"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"
He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."
You're six years old again.
You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.
You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.
And you're thinking... you start thinking something.
You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.
Peter's still staring at you, waiting.
Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.
But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.
You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.
When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.
Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."
Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.
Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."
He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."
You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.
Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.
You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.
You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"
You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"
Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."
"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."
"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"
"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."
"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."
Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"
His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."
You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.
Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."
"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"
"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"
You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."
You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.
This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.
So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.
Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.
You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"
You nod, speechless.
Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."
You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."
Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."
"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"
"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"
You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.
He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.
Did it? You stare up at Peter.
"We can try as many times as you want."
You might have a very different problem than you started with.
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes
#peter parker x reader#peter parker scenarios#peter parker imagines#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker#spiderman x reader#spiderman scenarios#spiderman imagines#spiderman fic#spiderman fluff#spiderman angst#andrew garfield#spider-man#marvel#mjwrites#tasm
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