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celestie0 · 6 months

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choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown.

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!”

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!”

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music.

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic.

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex.

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair.

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours.

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage.

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder.

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage.

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it.

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants.

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there.

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.”

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?”

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex.

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface.

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition.

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving.

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot.

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering.

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of.

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in.

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast.

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment.

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all.

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again. His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you.

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.”

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous.

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough.

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.”

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out.

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day.

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized.

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

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mochinomnoms · 8 months

Note

Idea: Yuu gets caught up in some circumstances involving Floyd and mates with him. Fully expecting rough ✨️fun✨️. Waiting to stop him for hurting them. Never does. Floyd starts with pleasuring his soon-to-be-mate, preparing them, and THEN penetrates. Catches them off guard, but they love it.

Cut to the next morning. Floyd panics 'cause oh shit, goes, "well, I'm not gonna be a bad mate, so I have other things to do!" (Internally), makes Yuu breakfast, is super gentle. They're stunned, because isn't Floyd the rough one? Not with them!

They go to class and get in a fight with Ace (didn't sleep well) who slaps them on the way to lunch and goes to the infirmary with a crushed windpipe. Ace is fine, and Yuu realizes Floyd is very protective. Cue human falling for moray head over heels.

Ta-da! Power couple.

-nightshade anon

Aaa! So cute!! Floyd has always been known to be rough, both above and under the sea. But once someone has taken his interest, especially as a potential mate, there's an obvious change. Not a personality change, he's still as Floyd as ever. But the morning after reveals a much softer side to him.

He's offering you a sweet breakfast, which was confusing as you expected him to kinda…yeet out. He keeps talking about mating, the irony of you being his Shrimpy, and handing a protective arm over you as you ate in bed. It's a surprise, and it continues as you two head off to class later on. He's still handing a protective arm over you, other students giving you two a wide berth to walk through the hallways.

When Floyd sees you off, Jade comes by to walk to class with his brother, he makes an offhanded comment about Floyd being a rather protective mate. It doesn't really click with you until later, when you and Ace are arguing, with him smacking the top of your head.

It was meant to be playful. It was meant to be a gesture between bickering friends.

So Floyd's had coming up behind Ace, grabbing his hand and squeezing until you hear a crunch, was a horrifying surprise. Floyd's confused himself when you're frantically yelling at him for hurting your friend, rushing Ace over to the infirmary as Floyd follows, calling out about how “It's my job to protect my mate! He hit you! That's not allowed!”

Ace, ultimately, is fine. One of the benefits of magical worlds is that things like broken bones are relatively easy to fix. Ace will have to wear a cast for a few days, just to give the magic some time to heal his bones back into place. And he's pissed at Floyd, but also at you for not mentioning that you mated with the stupidly tall merman.

He has to explain, “I heard merfolk are super overprotective with their mates, they'll get into all sorts of fights for them. Man, if I'd known you were with Floyd like that, I'd have never smacked you.”

So you have an eel bodyguard of a boyfriend? You can't deny that the thought makes you a little warm. Floyd, being so soft to you, and only you, while he roughhoused with everyone else. You should run to Floyd to shower him with affections. He's still pretty pouty about you yelling at him.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #nightshade anon

634 notes · View notes

nadvs · 2 months

Note

i’m ugh i love your take on angst. but twins are usually born early, so when you’re in labor rafes on an away game and you’re going through most of it by yourself

aaa thank you!! omg exactly what i was picturing 🤭

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe’s stomach sinks when he gets the phone call.

he’s boarding his team’s jet after an away game. it was the last away game he told management he could do until the birth of his twins, refusing to be out of town when they arrive.

especially because he was traded at the start of the season, moving them even farther away from their hometown. she doesn’t have anyone else close by to help her if she goes into labor.

she’s seven months and three weeks along. the doctors told them multiple births tend to come early. he agreed to do this one last away game, confident he’d make it.

but now, he’s an hour flight away when he gets the call from his girlfriend that she’s having contractions and on her way to the hospital in an ambulance.

he feels like an idiot for taking this risk. for assuming it’d be fine. because now he’s completely and utterly powerless, having to sit on a plane and wait and hope he makes it there before his babies do.

he calls her the second they land, but she doesn’t answer. the call goes straight to voicemail. in the cab, he calls her a few more times. nothing. her phone must have died.

when he runs up to the hospital desk asking where she is, he realizes he’s nearly heaving while the woman at the front desk searches through the system.

finally, he gets a floor and a room number, and he runs up the stairs and through the hallways until he gets to the door he’s been dreaming about coming through for the last two hours.

she looks up when she hears the door creak open. rafe drops the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder and rushes to her. it hasn’t happened yet.

“i’m not too late?” he says, panting.

“no,” she says, looking utterly miserable. she winces as another contraction hits her, squeezing her eyes shut.

“is it hurting?” he grips her hand, her fingers digging into the back of his hand.

she can’t even speak through the pain, trying to breathe through it.

rafe has never felt worse in his life. she’s been here, without him, in pain, all because he made a bad call.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. i deserve it.”

she climbs over the harshest spike of pain, then starts to breathe more evenly as the contraction fades away.

“they keep checking, but i’m not dilated enough,” she tells him. “it’s like my body won’t cooperate.”

“can i get you anything?” he asks anxiously.

“i’m just so glad you made it,” he says.

“i’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been alone.” rafe dips his forehead against her fist closed around his hand.

she bites her lip, her head resting on her pillow. it’s been a nightmare, dealing with the agony and anxiety that she’d be surrounded by strangers during the scariest thing she thinks she’s ever gone through.

her obgyn isn’t on shift, so somebody she doesn’t know will be delivering the babies. she was terrified she’d have to do this without rafe. she looks over at her boyfriend as he kisses her knuckles over and over.

“is this dad?” the nurse says as she comes in.

“yes,” she breathes.

“amazing,” she says cheerfully. “mom is doing great. she’s tough.”

rafe nods, glancing over at his girl, wondering if there’s anything he can do to make up for not being here.

“i’m going to have the doctor on call come in to check up on you again in a few minutes. you still okay without the epidural?”

“yes,” she says.

“just give us a ring if you need us, okay?”

rafe kisses the back of her hand again as the nurse scurries out of the room.

“you seeing how long you can go without it?” he asks, remembering her telling him she was going to only go for the epidural when she was desperate.

“yeah, but i don’t know how much…” she says. “distract me. how was the game?”

“106-88,” he tells her. “easy. they were weak.”

“then why’d you let them get 88 points?” she teases with a small smile.

he stares at her, his gaze heartbroken.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t here,” he tells her.

“the nurses and doctors have been great,” she says. “they gave me food and water and all the ice chips i could ask for. i’m okay. i was just so scared you wouldn’t make it.”

“i bribed the cab driver to speed,” he admits.

she laughs for the first time in hours.

when the doctor comes to check on her, he tells her she’s still not dilated enough but her blood pressure is getting high, but they’ll keep monitoring.

fifteen minutes later, the doctor checks again and tells her they have no choice but to do a c-section.

it’s all a blur, being rushed to the operating room, prepped for surgery, administered the epidural, feeling the twins kicking her.

once rafe can hold her hand again, he doesn’t let go of her. strangers in scrubs surround her, speaking their jargon, while her strokes her hand with his thumb, whispering to her how much he loves her and how he’ll never leave her side.

their son is born first. they clean him up while delivering their daughter, and when she feels her children resting on her bare chest, she cries in pure disbelief.

rafe kisses her forehead, calling her perfect, their babies perfect, promising that he’ll never leave their side. he can’t believe how close he was to missing this. he’d never forgive himself if he did.

they move to a recovery room. rafe feels helpless watching the hospital staff move through the motions, but once she can rest, the twins swaddled next to each other in a bassinet, he feels like he can breathe again.

in that small moment of quiet, he stands by the bed, seeing the love of his life’s eyelids slowly fluttering after living through such a hard process, seeing the two most perfect babies in the world sleeping next to each other, and tears of awe and happiness well in his eyes.

this is wealth. whatever he thought made him feel fortunate and rich before doesn’t compare to this. the three beautiful beings he’s gazing at right now are all that will ever truly matter to him.

#ask #swteblurb

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arafilez · 2 months

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BACK HOME ㅤㅤㅤ☆ ㅤ —﹙ c.hs ﹚

WHEN ㅤ,ㅤ you can't wait till hansol comes back !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( x reader ) 𓂃 ㅤ fluff ㅤ drabbleㅤ warnings kissing ㅤ⋆ ( 628 wc ) ㅤ❟❟ㅤ library ㅤ svt shelfㅤ navi

When you first heard about Hansol moving away, your initial reaction was to stand in confusion. This is life, best friends move away too, you had heard your mother say and you had scoffed in your mind. But Hansol had kept his promise, he had kept in touch through his blunt remarks and soft voice echoing over the caller whenever you called.

You have been best friends for four years, but the two years when he moved away made you much closer. So when you see his text light up your phone you almost fall out of your bed. He is coming back home.

Everything came rushing back from the last six years to you, the last two years hammering more. Late night chats, shy giggles, smiling at a single text and anticipation of his return. God, you wish he could come faster and you could see him already. Then the clouds of doubt over your mind will vanish.

Liar, your mind echoes but you push the thought to the back of your mind until he video-called you. Tousled hair and tired eyes welcome you as you pick up his video call. All that cracked voice and low-quality video but he is literally shining. Your heart feels an unnecessary pang as you cut the call and know you are screwed.

You like him. It’s obvious and you groan knowing your friends had every right to tease you. It felt so cliché, you almost wanted to push your face in a pillow and scream. The moment he comes back you are confessing!

Everything goes to hell when you sit in your bed that night and realise you are the most impatient person ever as the text you sent lights up your screen with a single tick beside it. You wished so much you could hold it in because texting and confessing is absolutely the worst way to let someone know but fuck that!

You wanted him! He needed to know at all costs! Fuck everything if you can have him!

You groan, throwing away your phone at the end of the bed and slump down on your bed, pulling the covers to your face, closing your eyes and praying and hoping he likes you back.

A knock on your window jolts you awake making you yelp in confusion and back away from the window. Blinking, you gape in shock as you see the lopsided smile and bright eyes. Hansol. Hansol?

“What the hell?” you whisper and open your window quickly checking the clock- four in the morning. He shuffles inside as you rub your eyes trying to make sense of the situation. “Why are you here, at four?” you whisper shout making him grin and say, “I couldn’t wait.”

“For what?” you grit out glaring at him. As much as you love this boy and his goofy nature you hate being woken up from your sleep. “To do this,” he whispers holding your hand and leaning in as your breath hitches. No! This can’t be real! You are dreaming.

A single nod and he gets the permission, cupping your jaw he presses his lips to yours softly as you try to catch up. You had imagined multiple times what it would feel like to have his lips on you, but the reality felt so much better. You gasp lightly, kissing him back and running your hands throw his hair as he intertwines your fingers with his other hand.

When you break apart he clears his throat and says, “If it wasn’t clear, I like you back,” making you giggle. Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights, tell me about the first time you saw me. Oh it was very clear. And you loved it just as much as he did.

ARA'S NOTES ㅤ,ㅤ omggg i am so happy for @weird-bookworm i literally wrote this inspired from absolutely mini kdrama worthy love story, i was swooning so much sky !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( TAGLIST ) ㅤ @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @haneagerr @aaa-sia @yeosayang 𓂃ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

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konigenblobbity · 1 year

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It’s All Written Down [Part 2]

Hobie x SpideyF!Reader

Warnings: Angsty, also fluffy, sad Hobie, sad reader, comforting, crying, kissing

—> [Part 1]

Summary: After reading your note, Hobie immediately went off to find you, racking his brain to where you might’ve gone. When he finally remembers, he makes his way to you, hiding. Once you see him, you can’t help but break down… unable to contain your emotions, luckily it allows him to finally find the strength to share his own.

A/n: AAA the love I got for the first part! Y’all are so cute I was legit blushing! I also had SO much fun writing the first one so I’m so glad you all enjoyed it! Hope part 2 lives up to your expectations ;) enjoy meine Lieben

You held your mask in your hands, running your fingers over the stitching that lined the eyes. The fabric soaks up your tear as it falls onto it. You sniffle softly and then bring a hand to your face, rubbing away your tears. You had left Hobie’s apartment just 30 minutes ago, still crying over everything that had happened.

Meanwhile Hobie was swinging through the city, eyes darting around, looking for any trace of you or where you might’ve been. He racks his brain for any possible place you might’ve gone to, any place you’ve brought him to. He was desperate to find you, fearing that if he didn’t soon, you’d be gone forever.

He pushed away those thoughts, as he finally realizes where you might’ve gone to. A place you’ve told him about before, one you’ve mentioned fondly, explained how you’d go there before missions, to be by yourself and just enjoy the silence.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises” he chuckles and you just smile. “Everyone always says they’re creepy, but I don’t know…. They’re nice and quiet, full of history, very endearing in their own way” you and him were sitting on his bed, you sitting against the headboard, while he was sitting in front of you, legs overlapping with yours.

For the past hour you two have been playing a little game of questions, just using the time to learn more about each other. “So yeah… secret location to relax, the cemetery out near the city bridge.” You say and he just looks at you smiling. His tilts his head to the side softly, leaning back on his hands as he just stares at you, seemingly in adoration.

You blush slightly and glance away for a moment “What are you looking at?” He just shrugs but doesn’t pull his eyes away from your figure. “Nothin’ Marlin… just can’t help but enjoy this moment” he slowly moves to sit up, pulling his legs off yours. “Since I only ever see ya spider self at HQ or on missions” he moves to kneel on the bed.

The way his figure loomed over you now had you stiffening slightly, trying to move back more against the headboard. He just begins to smirk before speaking again “Only here do I get to relish how you talk bout what you love” he moves closer. His knees now on either side of your thighs, practically straddling you. You look away entirely now.

“How only I know what ya beautiful face looks like under that mask” he reaches a hand forward and places it on your chin, he lifts it slightly so your head looks up at him. When your eyes lock with his, he lets out a light chuckle, barely audible but a shiver runs through you as you hear it. “Such a gorgeous lil Marlin” he says narrowing his eyes.

“But what I relish most…” he leans forward slightly and your breath gets caught in your throat, nervous for what he could be up to. Up until that point everything’s been platonic. Your heart beat speeding up at the idea of him changing that part of relationship.

“Is your cheeky little laugh” You were taken by complete surprise at his hands went for your sides, beginning to tickle you without mercy. Your body immediately reacts, back arching as you begin to writhe under him. You laugh out at the feeling of his deft fingers tracing at your sides so softly. “AH! H-hobie! S-st haha! Stop it!”

He keeps you pinned down with his hips pressed against your own, not allowing you to run away from his attack. “There it is… that laugh right there” he says continuing to tease you with his words along with his fingers. You continue to writhe, hands going to grab his wrists to stop him, he easily pushes them away, smiling down at you.

“HOBIE PLEASE! Hahaha! S-stop! Hobi- haha!” You continue to plead, eyes beginning to well up from the shivers running through your whole body. He finally abides, stopping his hand’s movements, letting them just rest on your waist. You reposition yourself to sit up against the headboard again, having slid down from Hobie’s sudden attack.

“God I love it Marlin…” You have a grin stretching from ear to ear, hands grabbing Hobie’s wrists just in case he decides to go back to tickling you. “What I love more is that only I get to hear it” he can’t stop himself as he talks, suddenly feeling very affectionate. Your face begins to blush a dark red at his words, having never had someone as vocal as Hobie with their thoughts.

“T-That’s really sweet Hobie” you say softly and he just continues to look down at you. You both sit there in silence for a bit, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze pure admiration and care, you were sure that yours reflected the same thing. The way Hobie cares for you made your heart sing, knowing that he found the parts of you everyone disliked… endearing.

At the memory he couldn’t help but smile, but simultaneously changed his course to find the cemetery you mentioned that night. He had never been this determined before, not even on his missions… his whole mind spinning with worry. Now that he knew where you were, he just hoped you were okay.

You were sat on one of the small concrete buildings within the cemetery, often used to store tools or went down into the ground where more people were buried. It was high enough to overlook the rest of the cemetery, your eyes moving from row to row of headstones decorating the lush green of the ground.

Picking up on which graves were new and pristine, which were covered in moss and had become weathered, which had flowers - wilting or fresh. Then you felt a change in the air, your spider senses went off and you could hear him before you saw him. There was a soft brush of wind that went past you as Hobie landed behind you on the building.

You hear his footsteps come closer, before you notice his figure come into view on your left, watching in your peripheral vision how he sits down next to you, cross-legged, just like you. “I’ve been looking for you…” he says and you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your skull. The sound of his voice enough to make your heart sing, you’d only been gone for 1 hour but had already missed him endlessly.

You don’t say anything, just continue to look down at your mask, just one look at Hobie would be enough to make you fold. You were fighting back tears threatening to surface, your grip on your mask tightened. Hobie immediately noticed, reaching a hand over cautiously to place it on your thigh.

“I read the letter… Marlin listen I-“ at hearing his voice again you couldn’t help yourself, you lunged into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. Hobie was so caught off guard, he had to use one arm to brace himself, while the other wrapped around your back. He was frozen for a moment but upon hearing your soft sobs, all his attention was back on you.

He sat up, shifting so you could comfortably lie between his legs, allowing you to nuzzle your head further into his chest. He softly caresses your back, trying to soothe you as you continue to cry into his chest. “Oh god… I’m so sorry love” he didn’t know what else to say, your whole body was trembling in his arms, it caused him pain to see you like this, he could feel his heart screaming.

“I-I’m sorry… I-I didn’t know what else to do“ you couldn’t talk clearly, shaky breathes interrupting your words before they even left your lips. “I-I just… I didn’t-” Hobie brought a hand to your head, softly caressing your hair, beginning to rock you gently in his arms.

“Hey… hey Marlin it’s alright. Deep breaths, just take some deep breaths… I’ve got ya, you’re safe” he kept his voice low, not wanting to overwhelm you. His tone was clearly pained, but he tried to stay composed… for you. You were his only priority right now, all he wanted was to help calm you down.

For 30 minutes Hobie sat there, holding you in his arms, comforting you. Your breathing began to return to an even pace, heart rate slowing. At this point your eyes had closed and you were just listening to the sound of Hobie’s heart beat, finding it’s even rhythm soothing.

You finally spoke, although it was low and raspy, he listened intently “Miguel’s right… I can’t handle missions on my own, so I left. Wanted to make it easier, by just leaving” Hobie begins to shake his head, eyes furrowed as he looks down at you “Miguel is fucking daft… he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know you Marlin. No one knows you like I do”

Even at the mention of Miguel Hobie’s blood boiled, the name sat like poison on his tongue. His insult was quick, every word laced with malice. He hated that one goddamn moron in a spandex suit with a shocking amount of self-righteousness was the one to hurt you to the point that you ran away.

“Marlin you’re fucking phenomenal… dozens of missions, and never once did ya make a mess of it. Not even Miguel can say that” he continued to pet your hair softly, occasionally spinning a few strands around his fingers, knowing how you always did that to calm yourself during missions.

“That’s not true… what about w-“ your voice was so soft Hobie easily interrupted you “Don’t fight me on this Marlin.” His words were playful, but still held a weight of warning. You unwrap your arms enough to push yourself out of his chest, sitting between his legs as you look up at him. “Hobie I’m just not sure whether-“

When you finally see Hobie’s face, were shocked to find his eyes watering and a tear running down his cheek, you reach a hand up to wipe it away and gently cup his face. His expression is sullen as he places a hand on yours “Please Marlin… we’ll talk to Miguel. If he doesn’ want you workin’ team missions, we’ll do solo missions together. Just us” his voice was almost a whisper, his head leaning into your touch. You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up all over again.

You’d never seen Hobie so vulnerable… to be fair, he’d never seen you so vulnerable either. Before you could respond he tilted his head to kiss the palm of your hand, your breath catching in your throat at the sight… heart stopping at the feeling. “Please don’t leave… we’ll figure something out” you felt more tears run down your cheeks.

All you could do was nod your head quickly, a soft “okay…” leaving your lips. Your gaze focused on him as you gave him a comforting smile, even if your expression was contorted with hurt. He let out a soft huff, before smiling wildly and reaching forward pulling you into his arms.

The grasp he had on you was unbearably tight, but you didn’t want him to loosen it or let go, his arms and warmth making you feel safe… as if nothing could hurt you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled into where it met his collar, holding Hobie as tight as you could, grabbing the fabric of his shirt in your fists.

“Christ Marlin…” he begins to say and you hum softly in question, urging him to continue “I can’t believe you said goodbye with a fucking piece of paper” His words were meant to be teasing, but you could sense the hurt and sincerity of his statement. You pull away from his neck enough to look at him again.

“I’m sorry… I just knew that if I said goodbye to your face, I’d never have left at all” you smile at him and he gives you his signature smirk back, leaning forward and kissing your forehead softly. “Then I guess I just have to keep ya eyes on me, hm Marlin?” he winks at you, you chuckle slightly and blush at his words

He was gazing into your eyes, a clear admiration in them, but there was something else. It was the same back in his room, when you two were playing questions. Just as you did that day, you tilted your head and asked with a smile “What are you looking at?” He chuckles softly, recognizing this conversation, he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“Nothing… just enjoying this moment Marlin” he begins to say, you watch as his eyes glance at your lips once before locking eyes with you again. “Seeing as I only ever see your Spidey persona at HQ or on missions” you move a hand from around his neck to caress his cheek, using your thumb to trace his cheekbone.

“It’s when we’re alone that I can wrap my arms around you” His tone was low and he was still looking at you, practically unblinking. You swear you saw his pupils dilate. “Only in my room do I get to see that gorgeous face you hide under your mask” his hands grab at your waist. pulling you closer to him, moving you to straddle his lap, his hands now resting on your waist.

“But my favorite part…” a devilish smirk crosses his face and you remember this all too well. You grab his wrists as a precaution, but leaving his hands on your waist. You look at him warningly, raising your brows “don’t you dare tickle me Hobie…” he lets out a soft chuckle before leaning forward.

His plush lips meet yours, you let out a soft gasp in response, which immediately gets swallowed up by his lips. His eyes were closed and after a moment yours fluttered shut as well. He then whispers softly against your lips, finishing his statement “my favorite part is that you let me” you hummed softly at his words.

All his attention went back to kissing you, it was slow, gentle, but you could feel every bit of adoration and care he put into it. Your hands loosened their grip on his wrists, he then intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting them. You abided and let him lead your touch, he placed them around his neck, before placing his hands back on your waist.

Your hands softly begin to caress him, gliding up and down his lean shoulders, one finding its way further up, beginning to gently trace his wicks. You heard a soft groan leave him, before he pulled you closer against him, continuing to mold his lips against yours expertly. When he finally pulled away it took a moment to regain your composure and open your eyes.

“To know that I’m the one you trust most, the one you bear ya soul to… that just about might be the hottest thing in the world Marlin”

Tag list:

@thegirlwholovesmythology @aizawa-shouta-2018 @lavandercookie @darksidescorner @graciebeanss @sunariin @athenxt @pemizart @lilttblog @gamenabaanona @atrashpandaunderthestars @em711 @reaperfeels @jjkclub @5sos-wdw @gwendolyngonzalez

#konigenblobbity #fanfiction #atsv hobie #hobie brown x reader #Hobie brown #across the universe #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie atsv #hobie fic #hobie spiderverse #atsv fic #spider punk

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r0-boat · 4 months

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In your inbox for the first time~ Mammon liking small things including humans is fueling my size difference kink with him, and though I am a Beel stan, Mammon caught my eye first so- Realistically I'd be in Tartaros relaxing and enjoying booty rubs from him. Also would require Valefor to be a stand-in while Mammon is busy. lol I've seen some folks talk about his and Lucifer's dick size and I'm like nah we're going to have to work around that if it doesn't fit. Fingers, toys, and mouths exist. I do love me an eater after all. -end of my brain rot

Aaa I could just tell you about my thoughts but that won't be as fun as writing a short drabble about it

So here you go

I'll make it fit

Mammon x reader drabble

Cw: size kink, belly bulge

Even with Your hole dripping with golden lube and your own cum, You were still worried at his size. His thick cock rubs against your entrance running against your ass, getting his fill, His big hand squeezing your cute little ass cheeks before he starts to tease his tit against your tight little hole.

"Ahh! Mammon! It's not going to fit! You're too big."You whimper, already feeling the tip of his cock begin to push you open.

Mammon smirks, already feeling the tight squeeze. He groans, "I'll make it fit; I always do. Besides, I love how tight Master squeezes around me."He smacks your ass. Hands grab at your hips as he begins to work his way in more. Halfway in, and you're already so full. But that's not enough for Mammon. He wants all of him inside you. He wants to fill you to the brim; He wants to feel the tip of his cock against the deepest parts of you. Even with your delicious tight squeeze, He rolls his hips, humping against you, reaching deeper and deeper with each shallow thrust.

"is so good for me, master. Taking me so well." Mammon purrs. You gasp, your back arching when you finally feel Mammon bury himself fully inside you, his heavy balls smack against you.

"See? I always fit." his tongue rolls over the shell as his hand reaches downward to feel the bulge of his dick poking out from your belly.

#ro.chatting #smut #whb mammon #whb x reader #whb #what in hell is bad #wihib #wihib x reader #whb mammon x reader

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afyrian · 3 months

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CONGRATULATIONS ON 200 FOLLOWS AAA!!!! i'm so so excited to see you continue to grow you are so talented and i just can't wait to watch your blog blow up and get the love it deserves <33 regarding your event..... may i request..... ☀️ and suna pls.... I don't think anyone expected anything else of me I'm sorry 😭 AA I'm so excited to see what you do!! <3

sun kissed warnings w/ suna | wc: 300 masterlist | sunburnt

"you should really apply sunscreen more, it can be really dangerous-"

"mh mmh yeah."

his voice is muffled as your hands rub along the top of his back and his shoulders. thick aloe vera is slathered along his back and you work to make sure it's covering every inch of his sunburn. running your hands delicately down his back sends goosebumps up his arms. the burn making it feel cooler than he expected.

you roll your eyes, knowing that no matter what you say, he won't pay attention. especially when your thumbs run alongside the sides of his spine, the comforting feeling nearly sending him to sleep, "rin, babe, if you don't be more careful, i'm not going to do this for you anymore. you'll have to call atsumu."

his head shifts a little, his eyes peering over at you as his smile quickly falls. nearly every time he gets a sunburn you make this threat, feeling too bad to watch him suffer the next. you shake your head when you can see him looking, raising your hands up from his back, one moving for his upper arm.

"fine.. i'll put more on next time, okay?" suna turns a little more, resting on his left arm, his right arm raising up and caressing your elbow.

"promise?"

"yeah, i promise," he nods, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt's sleeve.

instinctively you lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, nearly tasting the salty ocean air that's cursed him so. they're chapped and you can’t help but sigh happily as your hand feels the external warmth of his sunburn. “now, turn back around or you’re actually going to have to call atsumu,” you lean back a little, tilting your head slightly as you stare into his eyes.

“anything for you darling.”

#THANK YOU!!#i appreciate all the love and support #☼༄ 200 follower event #suna rintarō #haikyuu suna #hq suna #suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfic #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #suna fluff #☆ fics

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jeongheart · 1 year

Text

touch

summary: 'physical touch refers to expressing and receiving affection through touch, physical closeness, and other forms of physical connection'.

w.c: 1.4k.

tags: strangers to friends to lovers (kinda?), mutual pining, fluff.

a.n: i'm soft, this was inspired by that video of jeongin bumping into jisung lol. my first innie work aaa i'm so happy that i finished it, i'm so proud of this one too.

as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes, leave your thoughts if you like! it means a lot.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

He strongly believes that his personal space is sacred, and he can't understand the people who require physical contact 24/7.

It's no secret to anyone that he dislikes (physical) displays of affection, not that he doesn't have them with the people he loves, he prefers to let them know that he loves them with a special gift on their birthday or by buying them something that reminds him of that person.

He especially hates hugs. He feels trapped by the other person, and despite the fact that in the 22 years of his life he repeated it a thousand times, his family and friends don't seem to get the hint.

He doesn't want to be surly, really. It's something that has been like that since he can remember.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

Except if that someone is you.

It's funny actually, you'd met casually, the way people met before: in real life. The first day of college was tough, everything and everyone was new and having to get used to a "grown-up" routine all of a sudden was something that took time.

He remembers the time exactly: 07:20 am. It was the first of the day, he was sitting in front of the class, he had a bad habit of being easily distracted, so he had to force himself to overcome his shame and desire to sleep to be in front of the blackboard.

The class started at 07:30, and the room was almost full. The professor arrived less than a minute ago and Jeongin was glad to be alone and in peace. His notebook lay open in front of him, the pages white and spotless.

Until you arrived, late.

You came running, it was obvious that you'd fallen asleep. Your hair was somewhat messy, probably due to the wind and the run you made through the building, your face was red (from embarrassment and exertion), but a smile was present on your face.

The professor looked at you funny and with a gesture of her hand she asked you to come in and take a seat somewhere free.

The only one was next to Jeongin.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the empty chair, and even though you couldn't see it, Jeongin rolled his eyes as he saw you approaching the table.

With the woman summarizing her presentation, you arranged your things on the table (everything was in pastel colors, the blonde noticed) and you looked at him expectantly with that smile still on your face.

He could tell you were alone, actually, you were the only two who were. All your other classmates knew each other. So your attempt to start a conversation with him was logical, you also realized that he was alone.

"It looks like we'll be buddies" You smiled again and then told him your name while you extended your hand in an attempt to shake his, a very old gesture and not funny at all according to Jeongin.

He played dumb, but he told you his name. And then he said nothing more, watching out of the corner of his eye as you slowly lower your hand to rest it on your lap.

The weeks passed like this, you had a clear love language and unfortunately it was the one that Jeongin hated the most. You were always trying to touch him, not in a wicked or weird way, just friendly since that's how you showed affection. You were friends, but he couldn't tell you 'stop doing that' every time you reached out to touch his shoulder to get his attention.

You annoyed him every time you did that, but he couldn't deny that when you weren't getting clingy he appreciated your company. You were a comfortable presence in his life most of the time, and he liked not being alone in an unfamiliar environment where everyone greeted each other and ate together every day.

The first part of the academic year ended in the blink of an eye and the relationship between the two of you was only growing.

Jeongin didn't know when he let you touch his arm for the first time, he thinks it was in the library when you were studying for an exam.

He was nervous as he couldn't memorize anything and you, ever so nice, reached out your hand in an attempt to comfort him to rest it on Jeongin's left arm which was sprawled on top of the book he was trying to read.

Jeongin hadn't noticed that he hadn't tensed like the other times and he just kept reading and rereading the same sentences while the heat rose to your cheeks.

You didn't know what changed, but the fact that the boy who moved away every time you got at least 5 cm closer than normal had finally relaxed around you had butterflies flying in your stomach.

The months unfolded normal after that, and Jeongin would let you into his bubble of personal space more and more often.

He definitely hadn't realized how much he liked to feel your warm hands on his when he needed to calm down before a presentation or how his heart would jump in his chest when he saw you smile after you hugged him goodbye when he dropped you at your house after college.

"I like you a lot, Innie" You told him after the second exam.

Another final exam ended, and with it, the end of the year was drawing near. Jeongin was going to a vacation with his family in Busan and you definitely couldn't go weeks and weeks without seeing him, or his dimples or hearing his laugh and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't tell him everything that was on your mind every time you were together.

Jeongin looked like a statue, his mouth was opening and closing in an attempt to find the right words. His mind had short-circuited and it seemed that he had lost all ability to form a coherent sentence.

The snow was falling around the two of you, the heartless winter wrapped you from head to toe and as the minutes passed without an answer, your heart raced more and more and if Jeongin paid enough attention he could see how your eyes began to water as you overthought your sudden confession.

Maybe he didn't feel the same way, and you were making a fool of yourself. You began to prepare the speech of 'sorry, I shouldn't have said anything' to save your heart from the impending rejection and to be able to escape from that situation as quickly as possible.

Until Jeongin moved, he took two short steps until he was face to face to you. He was a head taller than you and your eyes searched his urgently, trying to decipher the answer he hadn't put into words.

The blond placed his big hands on your cheeks, reddened by the cold and now by shame, and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

You swore that if it wasn't for his soft grip on your face, you might have passed out from how fast your heart was beating, your legs felt like jelly, and the suspense felt eternal. You wanted to yell at him to answer or for him to do something, anything to finally stop your heart racing with feelings.

You opened your mouth to talk, but Jeongin closed the distance between you by placing his lips on yours.

You froze at first, arms still on either side of your body but then, as if awakened from a trance, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lose yourself in the heat of the kiss, everything around you felt cold except for this moment, the soft feeling of his plush lips on yours and the warmth spreading from the tip of your fingertoes to every strand of hair on your head.

He moved only a few inches from you, enough to be able to whisper over your lips "I like you too".

You laughed slowly, so softly that it almost felt like a whisper, so only he could hear it "Yes, I think I realized that" And tangling your hands behind his neck you brought him closer to you to kiss him again.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched, but you were the only exception.

#stray kids fluff #yang jeongin fluff #i.n fluff #yang jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz soft thoughts #stray kids soft thoughts #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bri writes

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digitalagepulao · 10 days

Text

My sincere Black Myth: Wukong review

Full disclosure! This is from a recent but earnest fan of JTTW as the original novel, as well as all the social, cultural and religious layers of it. I've seen my fair share of adaptations and derivative media, from shlocky to silly to grimdark to cutesy. I'm a bachelor in visual arts, with an interest in the field of game development since high school. I am also, white and brazillian, and have talked with other jttw fans, both Chinese and not, on this game. If any of these are for some reason motive to not read further, then fair enough. Hope you have fun and continue to enjoy the game, do not let me or my opinion stop you!

Now to the review proper <3

First things first, let the obvious not remain unsaid. This game, is supremely gorgeous. In every sense of the word, and I mean this fully, it's a work of art. The sound design, the character concepts and execution, the animations, the voice acting, the visual effects, the UI design, the cinematography, the 3D scanning of actual historical artofacts and heritage sites throughout China, and everything beyond and between, are phenomenal, full stop.

This was never a debate, I'm sure, but I don't think I can in good conscience not praise them for their work. It's no news that Asian talent, not just in China either, have been often hired to supplement projects on the West, and we can all agree it's about time they got to shine in their own AAA project. My issues with the international game industry notwithstanding, I hope this brings some much needed acknowledgment and appreciation for Chinese culture and arts, both traditional and modern!

Now, from this point on, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS, so proceed with caution!

(word count: +1.8k)

I also deeply enjoy their choices in arcs to revisit. Some like the Flaming Mountain arc are classic picks to adapt but still a very good match to the whole Six Senses throughline. I don't think you can do a JTTW 2 electric bogaloo without bringing up Niumowang and his family in some way (um, put a pin on that), but the other arcs like Yellowbrow or Black Wind Mountain aren't as explored imo, so it's nice to see them being given a bit of a spotlight.

(speaking of the Yellow Ridge arc, whoever made the executive decision of Lingji Bodhisattva being a Xaanxi singer is, genius!!)

I'm also kind of in love?? with Bajie's design and role in the story overall?? Gameplay wise he sticks around just enough to not feel lonely, but not too long to be a nuisance or overstay his welcome. He's no Atreus (GoW) or Ellie (TLoU) of course, but he doesn't need to be, and most importantly, he isn't trying to be, which I feel is admirable of the devs. Given the visible inspirations from the recent God of War games, it would have been easy to lean a bit too hard on it, but I'm glad they didn't overreach.

Him having a more complex love life is also a nice touch imo. It explores more his womanizer ways in an interesting way, and I appreciate it. I love when people complicate the pig! Also, the way he treats Xiaosheng (Destined One) like a nephew?? The scene on the Huaguoshan throne??? I'M GONNA CRY!!!

I think, I've run out of positive things to say.... time for the spicy takes.

I, kind of detest the premise by default. I'm not a big fan of "Superman is Dead" plots, cus it's usually either done for shock value, or taken so lightly that the weight is totally lost. I have such a love-hate situationship with the introduction cutscene because of this. On one hand, it's phenomenal cinema, and seeing Wukong stand up to the Heavenly armies in glorious 4K high fidelity graphics is delicious. On the other hand, the whole debate they are having has me going "?????", not because I don't get it but just, why?? Why did this have to be the premise?? (put another pin on that)

Also the set up and call to adventure is kind of blergh.

Now is as good a time as any to talk about the gameplay. It's, okay. If you enjoy trying to figure out the most stylish combos, or to mash buttons, then you'll definitely have fun. I was sorely disappointed that I pretty much have been going through the bosses rather easily. Chapter 1 it was mostly the struggle of learning the controls, but I never stuck to a boss for longer than seven tries (Whiteclad Noble, the snakeman that you are). Chapter 2 I only struggled on Tiger Vanguard, because I was sorely underleveled and had missed a pathway to explore before him. After that I second tried him. Chapter 3, I have and I'm not joking, gotten halfway through first or second trying every boss.

Mind you, this is not being some godtier gamer or whatever, I'm pretty average and only a recent player of soulslike games too (maybe playing Lies of P made too OP, but I sincerely doubt it lol). No, this is me saying that if you do explore the game and not rush through it, you won't struggle nearly as much as some people have and still are. Most of the final chapter bosses can be trivialized with the chapter's Obsession Realm gimmick artifact, which isn't in itself a bad thing, just feels like an odd choice personally.

Which leads me to, the level design. So far? Preeeeetty lame! It's very pretty and fancy, but so chockful of invisible walls that it feels stiffling and discourages exploration. I can never tell what is meant to be a path or just fancy scenery, and I never know when a jump will get walled or send me to my death by fall damage. When it's not being confusing, the level design is either a bunch of looping circles, or straight lines. And so far, besides a few interactables and loot, there is not much else to look at. That is, bad level design, plain and simple.

Also, the animations are glorious, but what is the point if I can't see the enemy?? That camera is my true nemesis, and I mean that. the fact that a boss can be beyond my field of vision at ANY POINT when I'm locked on and it strifes sideways, is dreadful. GameScience, FIX IT. It is also, very hard to tell what parts of a boss will damage me if I collide with them or not. The Kang-Jin Long fight was baffling on a design point of view, same for Captain Lotus-Vision. Some clearer hitboxes would be swell.

This is the point where I say my main issue with the game lies: it's very pretty, and adoringly crafted, but it lacks substance design wise. I feel like it needed to cook more, the level design polished more so I wouldn't get lost every five minutes, and clearer.... well, everything. Mechanic explanations, level progression, gimmicks, etc. It all needed to be less murky and convoluted to understand.

It also needed more meat in between bosses. I have yet to run into common enemies that give me actual trouble, so it ends up being just a jolly waltz from boss to boss. Boss rushes are fun and great, but not as the base game experience (for me at least). I had to stop one boss away from completing Chapter 1 cus I was just so exhausted. And I had been playing for like, an hour and a half?? That left a sour taste in my mouth, I'll be honest.

Okay, I'm gonna pick open those pins now.

#1 the Flaming Mountain Arc. I'm gonna be very real here chat, that was so cringe. What do you MEAN, Red Son wasn't Demon Bull King's biological son, and Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink from the Childbearing River??? And Red Son hates him????When I watched that cutscene, I had to pause and walk away for a moment, legitimately. This plotbeat is SO WILD to me, I got nothing to say. Just, why??Soooo bizarre. And that the Flaming Mountain Keeper has such a presence in Iron Fan's life is also, weird?? Not bad weird, just Weird, but that's like a nitpick more than an actual criticism. Ping Ping is fine though, I like that Bull has a daughter with Princess Fair Fox, that's cute and interesting. Wish she was in a better plot and adaptation but lol

And #2, the premise. Now we are getting to the meat of it all.

The underlying premise of the whole plot, including the true ending, is flawed by default. The premise runs on what is sometimes called as a "conspiracy theory plot", as in, "what if the gods were bad actually??". It's reddit movie theory content in very short terms, and while it had a place during the 00s grimdark years pre-Marvel, it's become quite a jaded and boring take nowadays. Now you may say that it comes from a genuine desire to show distrust and critique to insitutions and the powers than be, and I can see that.

There is a hiccup in that though.

In JTTW, Wukong is the Mind Monkey because of the religious text and subtext of the stories. Its interwoven in the whole thing, and makes it cohesive. It still offer critique and mockery to institutions, without entirely invalidating their foundations. Not only for genuine fear of prosecution, but because, shockingly, religion and belief is a major component of human society in general. But going back to my point, JTTW is *already* a critique of institutions and the power that be. Adding further layers into it feel like angst and edginess just for the sake of it, and that feels hollow to me.

To go further, this intent also clashes with their own plot. See, they bring up that Wukong's Mind, his Sixth Sense, died. Thus they need another Mind to guide his other senses and reform him, so that he may be reborn.

For one, that is such a convoluted way to do a reincarnation plot, it feels complicated just for novelty sake. Secondly, Wukong being the Mind Monkey, as I said, implies a tie to the underlying themes of the Journey as a person's path to enlightenment. If enlightenment itself is flawed because the gods are flawed/evil, then both themes are clashing. By making a "what if the gods were evil all along" plot while also going by the laws and order of said gods, then what are we even fighting against? What is the point of this whole rebellion between Erlang and Wukong??

my friend @ryin-silverfish said it best a while back, and I'm paraphrasing here (do pitch in or correct me if needed! <3), but the issue with these conspiracy narratives is the inherent anti-religion of them. They don't believe in anything, and thus they cannot properly retell the story of JTTW through a postmodern lense, because they refuse to engage with the religiosity that runs throughout the story.

It also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, because this game will likely be many people's first genuine experience with the JTTW mythos and story, and I tend to be concerned for how much this will "sour the pot" in the conversation. The novels are sadly innacessible enough as it is; the sheer size of them scare many people away, not even to mention the amount of underlying cultural context you'll miss out without proper footnotes and commentary. Most people will not engage with them directly, and certainly not most gamers.

While the narrative of someone embodying Wukong's spirit is not new in itself, I do find that it coexisting with such a poor premise and spin on it will be a sore first experience for new fans, and I can only hope that them meeting fans of the OG novels won't cause much friction in the fandom (we have enough as it is imo).

It also concerns me that, sadly, people and gamers in particular, get too swept up in the ooh-aah beauty of flashy sfx and highly detailed graphics, and fail to notice some of the underlying issues in game design. As I said, this game is a work of art, but it has flaws, and I don't think people are speaking of them enough. No, the issue is not "lack of diversity" or whatever the hell.

It runs deeper than that, and it's an issue I've come to see in recent movies as well. I'm aware it might just be different cultural expectations of the pacing and span of a story, and it may as well be! But I think if there was more care given to the bones of a media, it would bring much needed longevity and weight to these wonderful artworks.

All this said, I wanna see what acolades this game gets and see what the devs are cooking up with the DLCs (they said at one point the game was supposed to have 12 chapters and my god, that game would be TOO LONG. So glad it didn't get like that!), and further more see how this ripples in the eastern game dev scene. While this is a flawed game with a flawed story, it can be the first on a genuinely wonderful wave of new creations, not just by GameScience, and overall I'm hopeful for what might come next!

#jttw #journey to the west #sun wukong #black myth: wukong #black myth wukong #game review

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chococolte · 2 years

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What? I think I might be addicted to you writing?? Like, this is hands down the best yandere/sagau blog I’ve come across. I just feel so loved with the way you write the interactions between the reader and characters! And my god complex is very well fed right now! Finally some good fucking food :)

I’d like to entrust you with my comfort character, my baby boi, Venti. Would you please do sagau touching his wings in his archon form, like how you did draconic Zhongli? And if it isn’t too much, could you write something for sagau calling Venti “good boy” as well? Ty!

word count. 975

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. aaa thank you!!!! sorry this one took me so long, but here you go! i mixed your two requests together here, so i hope you don't mind (though he'll still get his own separate good boy post, eventually). i hope you like it!! ♥

Venti's wings spread the moment you touch the soft skin of his spine.

It's an impulse, purely instinctive. His body acts before his mind, and his wings are the most primal part of his form— they react to any outside stimuli within moments, and to you, especially; always you. Before Venti can bite his tongue and control himself, his wings fan out, his feathers ruffling.

Venti's wings are broad and a bold white, stark against the golden light of your throne room. Every individual feather is soft and delicate, sensitive to the lightest touch. From where he sits by your feet, he looks up at you with wet eyes and unshed tears of euphoria, fringed by dark black lashes.

He lets out a small, quick breath, almost a whine, when you run your fingers over his feathers. There's no cruelty in your touch, no callousness to your movements—you move elegantly, every gentle scrape of your nails against his back and rub of your hands leaves him shuddering, filled with the urge to mutter every prayer in your name.

You massage the small area connecting his wings to his back. Venti arches his spine, chest heaving with rhapsodies of pleasure. His fingers curl around your robes, pulling them tight enough his knuckles turn white. He hides his face in the warmth of your lap, taking in every breath with the intent to remember your scent.

"Your Grace," he mumbles into the silk of your fabrics, body jolting when you brush against the tender, velvety skin at the base of one of his feathers. Venti bites the inside of his cheek, holding back a loud, obnoxious whimper. As you take your fingers upward and gently lift one of his feathers, he has to stop himself from making any salacious sounds.

"A-Ah, please… more! Please—" Venti chokes on his words, sputtering as you rub his feathers in-between your fingers. His wings twitch, tensing with rapture. His heart swells and sings in his chest when he catches a glimpse of the smile on your face— he's pleasing you, even if he must make a fool out of himself to do so.

Venti is only mildly embarrassed, though the pure happiness of being so close to you outweighs any shame he may feel. When it comes to you, there's no limit to what he'd do; ask him to throw his life away, and he will do so without question. Ask him to show you the most vulnerable parts of himself, and he'll do it without any hesitation. Ask him to spread his wings and soul, whatever part of him you desire to see, and he will do it without thinking. Repercussions matter little when it comes to his god.

He's thought of this moment before— latching onto your thighs, begging to be toyed with, the warm comfort of your presence so close to him; having you play with his feathers and wings in your hands, showing you every dark, nasty urge he's kept hidden away. A paradisiacal reverie he's imagined so much that every moment is coordinated, practiced and perfect. He says this, you say that-- but nothing could compare to the sweet reality of your touch, the truth of basking in your light by the bottom of your throne, of your lovely benevolence— he could never go back to dreams, now.

You trace the bone of his wings, and Venti follows, tucking his wings inward so you don't have to reach to pet the tips. The mere thought of you having to reach for anything at all is revolting. The world is yours to command; the rest of them simply live within it. Whatever it is you wish of him, he will do it. If you wished to take his wings and pluck every feather, he would let you.

A sharp shiver breaks him out of his thoughts when you move back down, rubbing at the base of his wings. All too quickly, Venti's heart lurches to his throat, his ribcage moving with every breath.

He stifles a moan, chest convulsing with every intake of air as you continue to gently handle his feathers. You tug softly at one of them, and he presses himself further against you before he can think, mind muddied and clouded with mist. All he can think of is you, you, you. You're the only thing worth thinking about; the only thing worth caring about.

You laugh, and Venti mewls. Any composure befitting of one of The Seven is discarded, completely forgotten. His many titles and epithets, prayers that speak his praises and ballads of his history are meaningless, now— in comparison to you, none of it matters. You are everything, and he wishes for nothing more than for this moment to be frozen in time. Any moment spent with you is heaven. Your laughter is light and mellifluous, his ears and mind besotted by the mere sound. He could listen to you for an eternity.

"Good boy," you hum, and Venti's mind breaks. His shoulders shake, and his wings flutter, twitching and tensing all at once. "Just my good boy, right?"

"Just your good boy," Venti says fervently. He looks up at you, barely able to bring himself to meet your heated gaze, but somehow still manages without losing his mind. "Just yours."

He moves to say it again, but his words hitch in his throat when you suddenly move your hands upwards, forgoing his wings. Your fingers attach themselves to his hair, threading through his dark locks with gentleness he knows he has done nothing to deserve.

"Only mine," you say, a smile audible in your voice. A shudder runs through his body at your tone. Despite how loud his heartbeat is, he hears you clearly above all else. No matter what, he will always hear you.

"Only yours," he whispers back.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #self aware genshin au #genshin cult au #venti #yandere venti #sagau venti #genshin self aware #genshin #yandere venti x reader #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #gender neutral reader

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the-possum-writes · 1 year

Note

You may have gotten a request like this already so please ignore it if you have!

I really enjoy your works so far and I'd like to request the nsfw alphabet with Marshall Lee if that's something you'd like to do! Gender neutral or afab anatomy if that's okay but I really don't mind if you keep it fully gender neutral!

I hope this request finds you well and happy! Thank you for your time to read this ask and for sharing your work, it's very enjoyable to read! (It also helps that I adore possums hehe)

[Marshall Lee NS/FW Alphabet]

Tags: NS/FW, mentions of voyeurism, hcs, dirty alphabet

A/n: Thanks for requesting! Ya'll eating good tonight-! This is for the AT version of Marshall, the F&C Marshall would probs have some differences without the whole vampire thing.

A = Aftercare

Marshall doesn't need sleep so he'll help you clean up asap and lay in bed with you so his low body temperature can help ya cool off, he would also sing you to sleep in compensation if he went too rough on you.

B = Body part

Regarding his partner's, he's fond of your chest. He doesn't breathe so he likes seeing it rise and fall whenever you're panting, and enjoys listening to your heartbeat during cuddle sessions.

As for his body, he likes every aspect of it but if he had to choose it would probably be his eyes. They're the first thing someone sees when he's lurking in the dark.

C= Cum

Slick like glue, and lacks any kind of odor or taste (I guess it's because he's a supernatural creature). He doesn't produce an exaggerated amount of cum in a single shot but he's determined enough to fill you up until it's sliding down your thigh, no matter how many rounds it takes.

D= Dirty Secret

Marshall snuck into your house once cause he wanted to gonna prank you by hiding your toothbrush and other stuff but he accidentally floated in on you in a private time and didn't leave until you finished. Nowadays he knocks before visiting you, but there are times where he touched himself to that memory.

E= Experience

Marshall has been around for thousand years, he knows his likes and dislikes regarding stuff done to him, and what he likes in a partner. He's confident in his performance as well, he has skill and learns fast, he knows that he'll find and exploit your weak points that'll have you sobbing in a good way.

F= Favourite Position

The dude can fly, he likes having you cowgirl (or reverse cowgirl) style while on mid air even though you've told him how dangerous it is.

G= Goofy

Though he gets heavily feral most of the time Marshall is a versatile man who can still crack a laugh even at the most heated times, if he's feeling playful and is on a full teasing rampage he'd use wordplay/puns that depend on the location you two are at.

H= Hair

Marshall is well trimmed but not fully shaved, his pubes are just as dark and wavy as his hair. However, sometimes he'd occasionally try to do funny patterns and would walk out of the bathroom bare ass naked and ask. "Does this look like a bat to you?"

I= Intimacy

Okay so we all know Marshall portrays himself as the residential bad boy and everyone buys it, but in reality he keeps his relationships at an arms length since he's lost people close to him. The guy craves intimacy and it's evident in the small affectionate gestures during sex like how he intertwineds his fingers in your hands, and after sex, he's got his legs tangled in yours, plays with your hair and rests his head on your beating chest.

J= Jack Off

In the early years of vampire hunting he couldn't allow himself a single moment of vulnerability even if his hormones were getting the best of him, but in current times in Aaa where he isn't always on guard he wanks it on occasion here and there when he's lacking company. Once he starts dating you he can't help but stoke himself in front of you when you touch yourself for him.

K= Kink

Pray/Predator play:

He loves playing the part so much. On a full moon he will give you a 10 minute headstart to let you run loose through the woods in that white transparent nightgown he likes so much (fits your role as the helpless victim) as he shape shifts into a wolf or a giant bat and hunts you down by the scent of your arousal alone.

Size difference:

Okay hear me out on this- The guy can shape shift, it would be impossible that he wouldn't develop a knack out of it (especially with the prey/predator thing) when he's near you. He gets a thrill out of it when he's in his bat form, slowly diving you down on his shaft until your thighs come in contact with his fur.

Blood kink:

At first he wasn't interested since he had enough fighting those bloodsuckers (and because it's an obvious thing for him to have). So everyday he fought the blood kink allegations but after years of denying it, its become a new curiosity. He doesn't need to drink the stuff to survive but there's something euphoric about yours that tastes better than any shade of crimson, he'd avoid your neck the first few times but would obtain it from you inner thigh, it's like biting into a lovely jelly donut.

Voyeurism:

It's rude to spy on others but Marshall is well known to watch over others regardless if they're aware of it or not, you'd learn it the hard way when he caught sight of you touching yourself in your private time. In recent times you purposely masturbate in front of him as he sits back in a comfy seat but only after kicking his ass for being a creep.

Exhibitionism: He doesn't mind taking things in a public space like a bathroom stall or just outside a party, he already has his initials marked all over Aaa so a quickie is just another way to mark his place as his.

Praise kink: can't get enough when hearing you say how much you love him, how good he feels inside you or the sensation of his mouth all over you.

L= Location

Anywhere, anytime. The only place he refuses to go is the Nightosphere cause his mom has eyes and ear everywhere and those pesky demons would rattle him out and before he know it his mom is asking for grandchildren.

M= Motivation

It takes so little to rile him up but the fastest way is when you're wearing on of his band shirts.

N= NO

Alright hot take. Although he jokes around with it sometimes; Marshall refuses to actually bite your neck with his fangs. Sure he'll nibble on your neck and bite your shoulder but his fangs never really pierce the skin of your jugular, it brings bad memories of his own forceful transformation and how it made him feel.

O= Oral

Appreciates anyone who's brave enough to let his teeth near their privates.

P= Pace

He goes rough and fast, he knows he gets too carried away but he forgets it right away when he sees you enjoy it as much as he does.

Q= Quickie

Doesn't mind them.

R= Risk

Definitely a risk taker. There's many ways to turn him on and he'd love to share them with you, his safe word is probably something like batshit or fries.

S= Stamia

Impecable. Unless you're a supernatural creature you can't match up with his subhuman self.

T= Toy

Marshall likes them both on himself and on his partner, he likes the dildo varities in particular (when he needs to prepare you for his bat form) and how crazy some designs can get.

U= Unfair

Ultimate tease, if you start taunting Marshall he's gonna return it in an instant. Doesn't care if you're out in public he'll get handsy with you as punishment, and dear glob have mercy on you in the bedroom cause he'd edge that bratty attitude out of you.

V= Volume

He isn't as vocal compared to you when he takes the lead, he would mostly let out an occasional hiss or groan intertwined with his dirty talk or teasing. Buuut, if he's the one on the receiving end he'll cry, whine and moan like a bish.

W= Wild Card

If it wasn't because of his vampire regeneration abilities he'd get dick piercings.

X= x-ray

A nice 9 inches long with a slight curve upwards, he's long but a bit on the slender side like most of his body, it's color is just as pale too but halfway it leads to a small dark gray tip.

Y= Yearning

High libido, watch out. Although he doesn't need to eat or sleep he can still feel lust and hunger which become stronger the longer his needs go unfulfilled.

Z= Zzz

He doesn't really sleep much nor does he get exhausted easily, if he's with a mortal partner he'd pretend to sleep just to keep you company or sing/ play a lullaby on his guitar for you.

#adventure time x reader #Marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #reader insert #nsft alphabet #I'll have to look up more positions cause I was completely dry on that part tbh lol

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zarla-s · 7 months

Note

What do you think of red heavy/blue medic or vice versa?

A fun twist on MY FAVORITE! I just love enemy team Heavies or Medics not hurting their counterparts... sparing them or helping them or even just hesitating to kill them, it just gets me right in the heart hhghh. LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BOUNDARIES... BLOOMING ON THE BATTLEFIELD... I actually even had an experience lately where an enemy Medic hesitated to attack me as Heavy during the humiliation round, I've been wanting to draw that. It seems like both classes are pretty likely to turn Friendly towards each other if no one else is around in my experience. <3 There's something really sweet about wandering around a map and finding a RED and BLU Heavy and Medic just hanging out and dancing or having a picnic together by themselves.

I still prefer them on the same team but I do love comparisons between one Heavy/Medic to the other Heavy/Medic ("You are much calmer than my Doktor"/"You are more talkative than my Heavy") and their awkward flirting can be very cute when circumstances have kept the same-team Heavy and Medic apart. Just constantly drawn to each other regardless of what team they're on...! And I love it when a Heavy can't help trying to protect a lone enemy Medic in trouble too, like it's just an instinct he has. <3 Even better when they're both a little startled by him doing it! Or when a Heavy has to protect a captured enemy Medic from the rest of his team, aaa it all hits so many good tropes.

It can also be very tragic when one of the pair has died and they end up fixated on the matching one on the other team... I read a really sad fic about that with the RED Medic and BLU Heavy hooking up when their respective counterparts were dead, I'd link to it but it was also very explicit porn lol (it was called Ryumki). But it's a tragic and plausible scenario! So many fun ways to play with it all, haha.

Let me see... what are some of my favorite bits of cross-faction Heavy and Medic...

Running into Demo/Soldier by accident on their own date... CROSS-FACTION BROS...

RED Heavy slipping an injured BLU Medic a sandwich (this kind of inspired my fic about doppelgangers!)

RED Heavy getting jealous of BLU Heavy flirting with RED Medic

A BLU Medic seeing a wounded RED Heavy and alerting the RED Medic so he can heal him, even though he gets hurt in the process!

RED Heavy can't bring himself to kill a BLU Medic since they look so similar, he has to protect his doctor!

#asks and answers #bittersweetbonbon #heavymedic #team fortress 2 #i love people being protective and you can take that to the bank #red oktoberfest

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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Aaa Can I ask hcs abt a tourist MC who's finally going back home but M6 ended up having a crush on them? How do you think they'd react? Get over the crush, go after MC, just get sad?? Ty ♡♡

The Arcana Mini-HCs: When Tourist!MC has to go home

Julian: kept telling himself that you'd become that one bittersweet summer love story he'd cherish forever, sobbed out his goodbyes, and got sooo awkward (but happy) when he saw you on a trip later

Asra: was in denial about their feelings being more than friendly the whole time. Muriel watched him speedrun the five stages of grief after you left, stall when he hit "acceptance", and go to visit you

Nadia: torn because you were the best secret companion to sneak out of the Palace for, and she could come see you, but she'd have to tell her family about you to do so and then you'd have to get married

Muriel: in denial about you potentially returning his interest until Inanna and Asra team up and force him to go after you. comes to visit and doesn't know how to say hi so he just bumps into you in the road

Portia: gave you her address before you left and made sure to get yours so she could be your pen-pal. she's written you every day, sent your family homemade presents, and will be visiting next spring

Lucio: whined about you leaving nonstop until you either found a way to stay longer or to sneak him along with you. if that didn't happen, he's running away in the middle of the night to surprise you at home

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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princessleechan · 2 months

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"You're the man!" Chapter 39 Written Chapter

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, 2.9k w.c., game day, mentions of tits and dick lol, a bit of hurt and angst, the closest things to a sports fic

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie-main @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

When you finally get to be in the field all you feel is relief until it comes to trying to convince Seungcheol to put you back in after that awful performance courtesy of your brother.

“Captain!” you call out, your voice tinged with urgency.

Seungcheol glances at you from the corner of his eye, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The stern set of his jaw and the way he shifts his weight suggest he’s not in the mood for pleasantries. “Maybe next game,” he replies coolly. “Can’t risk another fluke like the one you had out there.”

“I was nervous,” you protest, trying to keep your tone steady. “It was my first game with a new team. I panicked. Please, just give me another chance.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, a look of skepticism in his eyes. “How am I supposed to trust that this time will be any different?”

“Put me in and I’ll show you,” you insist, your voice brimming with determination.

Seungcheol exhales sharply, clearly agitated, and turns his attention back to his clipboard. His gaze flickers briefly in your direction before he starts writing something down. The seconds tick by as he weighs his decision, and you hold your breath.

Finally, he looks up, a reluctant glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Since you look like yourself again,” he says, his tone softening just a touch, “I’ll give you 15 minutes. Use the time to reflect on what happened. Then we’ll see if you’re ready.”

“Got it, Coach—I mean, Cap,” you respond, a mixture of relief and resolve in your voice as you prepare to prove yourself.

You take the spot previous occupied by Yeonam next to Jeonghan who holds a smile of mischief like he always does. He gently nudges you, playfully greeting you. “Welcome back to the bench, Yeonam.”

“Thanks,” you grumble, your gaze lingering enviously on your teammates out on the field. A few catch your eye, especially one who you happened to share a bed with just last night. You sigh deeply. “I don’t know what to do, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan picks up on the fact that your frustration likely stems from more than just soccer. He senses that there’s an underlying issue he might not fully grasp without knowing the whole story. Still, he recognizes the delicate nature of your situation, understanding that when it comes to your personal life—especially something as precarious as your recent entanglements—he needs to tread carefully.

“Soccer, buddy,” Jeonghan says with a wry smile, “We’re playing soccer.”

You roll your eyes, a mix of exasperation and frustration. “You know what I mean.”

The match is evenly balanced halfway through. Seokmin manages a few solid shots, proving himself a key player for his team, but he struggles to keep up with his opposite, Mingyu, who is emerging as the true star on the field. Invisible to the naked eye, he lets his mind on body run on the one thing he could focus on: his rage, allowing it to fuel his movements. It doesn’t take him long to dominate the pitch, and before you know it, it’s your time to rejoin the game, with Seungcheol’s approval and a pat on the back from Jeonghan.

You jog excitedly back to your team, eager to hear the game plan and be involved. However, you’re distracted by compulsive lingering glances at Soonyoung, who never even bothers to look your way. You decide to shift your focus to Mingyu, who noticeably avoids your gaze. Before you can offer your input, the team huddles and breaks, and everyone returns to their positions on the field.

You chase after the ball, skillfully dodging defenders and making yourself available. “I’m open! I’m open!” you shout, hoping to get Mingyu's attention.

Mingyu, controlling the ball, ignores your calls and attempts to maneuver around you, ultimately missing the goal. Your frustration is palpable as you furrow your eyebrows at your roommate, pointing out your presence on the field. Once again, you receive no response from him, and instead, Seungkwan gives you a reassuring pat on the back, “You ok?”

You nod at him in tired confirmation, and quickly, the game is back on with the soccer ball at centerfield once again.

This time, you're trailing Mingyu closely, trying to keep up with his swift footwork. "Pass it to me! I got it!" you shout, waving your arm to get his attention.

But he doesn’t acknowledge you. His focus is solely on the goal ahead. He takes the shot, but it goes wide. No goal. Nothing but air.

Frustration bubbles up inside you. “Mingyu, come on!” you shout, your voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and urgency.

“Stop following me,” he finally says before running off.

This goes on for a period of until you’re at your tipping point, confronting him after yet another missed goal. “What the hell, Mingyu! Why are you being like this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He dismisses.

“You know what? No.” Before he can storm off again, you stand your ground in front of him, ready to duke it out in front of teh entire team if you need to. “I am gonna worry about it. We were good for the last weeks working together, getting along even. Texting a decent amount, then you block me, and now your blocking my plays.”

Mingyu tightens in on your confrontation, a silent anger in his eyes. He drops is voice low enough for only you to hear, clipped tone that makes it clear there’s more at stake than just the soccer game. “Well, maybe if you didn’t be a dick instead of being my friend, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Bro, are you kidding me? All I’ve ever been is your friend. What is this even about?” you demand, your voice trembling with frustration.

“I know,” he retorts, taking a sharp breath. “I know what you and Chae did behind my back.”

“You—you actually—wow, dude,” you stammer, utterly stunned by his accusation.

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can’t say shit, can you?”

“What the hell is interrupting the game right now? Boys?” the Captain intrudes, his voice cutting through the tension.

Your hands start trembling, and you feel the weight of your bottled-up emotions about to explode. “You know what? Fuck. I can’t do this. You know what, Mingyu? I didn’t kiss your crush, my brother did.”

“Brother?” Mingyu stares, his anger only intensifying with your supposed lie. “You don’t have a brother.”

You nod, your voice steadying. “Yes, I do. Yeonam—Yeonam is my brother.”

Mingyu’s face twists in disbelief. “Have you gone mental?” he asks, his tone a mix of anger and bewilderment.

“Goddamnit, look,” you say, reaching for the back of your head. You pull against the elastic band holding your hair tightly in place, finally releasing it from its death grip.

As your hair falls against your shoulders, everyone’s eyes widen in surprise, shocked to see you shed your disguise.

“What the fuck,” Mingyu begins to grumble, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You peel back the fake eyebrows, sideburns, and anything else that was part of your disguise. Each piece removed leaves you feeling more vulnerable, fully exposed to scrutiny as you reveal your true self.

“Yeonam is my brother because… I’m his twin,” you say, standing tall despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

The corner of your eye can’t help flicker towards Soonyoung quietly started before he turns away from you, something being told in his body language and your heart sinks realizing what. The revelation hangs heavy in the air, Mingyu's expression shifting from confusion to a mix of shock and realization. The team around you murmurs, trying to process what they've just witnessed.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Mingyu exclaims, his voice full of disbelief.

“Y/n?” Seokmin steps forward, recognition dawning on his face. “What is this? What are you doing playing for this team, dressed like one of them?”

You scoff, locking eyes with your ex. “Making a point, asshole.” You turn back to Mingyu, who is still in shock.

“And no, I didn’t kiss Chae. I mean, how could I when I don’t see her that way and knowing you have feelings for her?”

“You—I—“ Mingyu stammers, struggling to find his words.

You take a deep breath, addressing the team. “I’m sorry, guys. I joined this team because mine was terminated to prioritize the boys' team at my university. I joined this team because you guys were the best, along with my school. And my brother” you clear your throat, “ he was going to be out of town. That’s him over there.”

The team follows your gaze to the stands, where your brother Yeonam is watching. Noticing the attention, he makes his way down, joining the group with a soft smile. “Hi.”

“He was the one playing in the first half of the game,” you add, feeling defeated. “That’s who was kissing Chae that night.”

“No wonder he sucked,” Jihoon blurts out, unable to hold back his observation.

“Hey,” Yeonam retorts, clearly offended.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Soccer is my entire life. I wanted to prove to everyone here, and maybe to myself, that we didn’t need to be boys to play. To prove ourselves worthy of the school funding. I didn’t think I’d end up liking being on this team so much. Liking the people on this team so much.”

You glance at Soonyoung, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet before he looks away again, avoiding your gaze. The moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of your confession.

It hurt. More than you’d like to admit.

You realign your gaze. “I wanted to play so badly, and I can’t do that with what’s happened between us. We had a good thing going, our friendship. We’re better together, stronger when we work as a team.” You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “What do you say, Mingyu?”

Mingyu hesitates, then asks, “Wait, wait. If you’re not a guy, then what are you?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “Do I have to whip my tits out to prove something?”

Joshua chimes in with a grin, “Is that an option?”

“Please don’t,” Yeonam interjects, looking horrified. “I’d rather not see my twin’s tits. Sounds like it would require expensive therapy.”

“Yeah ditto, stickdick.”

“Okay. I believe you,” Mingyu says, his voice tinged with defeat as he looks down, shoulders slumping.

“So, can I play?” you ask, hope creeping into your voice. “I want to show that it’s not just boys who can be good, and that I, representing my team, can be just as skilled.”

Mingyu contemplates for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. He glances at Seungcheol before speaking again. “It’s not the matter of the player but what they bring to the field. Skill is nurtured, not born. Right, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol, who had been observing the exchange closely, lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a frustrated sigh. “We’ve all seen players improve through hard work and dedication, regardless of who they are.”

“Hold on,” one of Seokmin’s teammates pipes up, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You guys can’t be serious about this.”

“Why the hell not?” Seungcheol retorts, his voice rising in frustration as he points directly at you with a commanding gesture. “That’s my kid. My player out there. You think I’m going to just let go of someone that talented?.”

Seokmin’s team doesn’t let the matter rest without a fight. The tension remains high as arguments and counterarguments fly back and forth, each side determined to prove their point. The obnoxious player, clearly enjoying the confrontation, smirks as he pulls out a rulebook from his bag, its worn cover betraying its frequent use. He hands it to Seungcheol with an air of smug superiority. “Rules strictly state that boys’ sports teams stay boys’,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “Right, Cap?”

The obnoxious player turns to Seokmin with a triumphant grin, as if he’s won the argument before it’s even over. Seokmin, however, remains silent, his eyes locked on you still registering the conflict in front of him, detailing every word he’s said to your face without knowing and remembering the empty feeling from lack of response.

Seungcheol’s expression hardens as he takes the rulebook, his gaze fierce and determined. With a defiant glint in his eye, he rips the rulebook in half, the pages fluttering to the ground in shreds, and placing the giant chucks back on the opposites. “What rulebook?” he declares, his voice filled with defiance.

Seokmin’s teammate’s eyes widen in shock and indignation. “Hey–” he begins, but Seungcheol cuts him off with a steely gaze.

“If you’re scared of losing, just admit it,” Seungcheol continues, his voice cutting through the tension. “Don’t hide behind some petty excuse like gender. This is about sportsmanship and skill. Unless you’re really just the losers who stole resources from a capable team to cover up your own lack of talent.”

The obnoxious player’s face turns a deep shade of red, his pride clearly wounded. His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure, flinging the defiled rulebook on the field. “You’re on!” he finally shouts, his voice cracking with anger.

The game resumes, and with renewed determination, you step back onto the field, channeling every ounce of energy and skill into each play. Mingyu, having finally warmed up to the idea, starts coordinating seamlessly with you, his passes sharp and his movements precise. The rest of your team, energized by your resolve, steps up their game. You can feel their hope and faith in you, driving you to push your limits and showcase exactly what you’re capable of. To prove yourself that there’s more to what’s in your pants to show what kind of fire is in your heart.

You weave through defenders with skillful footwork, making strategic plays and delivering accurate passes. Each time the ball comes to you, you handle it with precision, your vision and quick reflexes earning you a few key assists and encouraging faces of your teammates. The game is intense, with both teams fighting hard for every inch of ground. You intercept a crucial pass, setting up a perfect opportunity for your teammate to score in the finally minutes of the game. The crowd roars as the ball hits the back of the net, giving your team the lead.

The clock ticks its final seconds and the final whistle blows. The scoreboard broadcast your victory. Ccheers explode around you, a cacophony of celebration and relief. Your teammates rush in, their faces alight with joy. They envelop you in a sea of high-fives and cheers, their exuberance palpable. It’s a moment of pure triumph, and the camaraderie is electric, filling the air with a sense of collective achievement and unity.

Yet, amidst the jubilation, your gaze keeps darting to the sidelines. Soonyoung is already heading towards the locker room, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to escape the spotlight. The sight of him leaving so abruptly tugs at your heartstrings, cutting through the elation of victory. You want to bask in the triumph with everyone, but your concern for Soonyoung pulls you in his direction, a gnawing need to understand what’s behind his distant expression.

You rush to catch up with him, weaving through the celebrating crowd. “Soonyoung! Did you see that? We won!”

He stops momentarily while packing his things, glancing back with a weary expression. “Sure. Congrats on the great game,” he replies, his voice flat and devoid of the excitement that should accompany such a victory.

You take a hesitant step closer, your heart aching at the sight of his disinterest. “I’m really sorry for lying to you,” you say, your voice earnest and filled with regret. You can’t help but feel the weight of your mistake pressing down on you.

“No big deal. Doesn’t matter,” he responds dismissively, his back already turned, signaling his desire to move on.

“But it does,” you insist, your voice cracking slightly as frustration and sadness mix. You trod towards him anxiously, missing the smile he always spays, the teeth he bares, teh flirtatious way he’d greet as you or Yeonam. “I wanted to tell you. I was just so, so happy being around you, I just…”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. He shoves the last of his things into his bag with a sense of finality. “Can I just get a minute?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you swallow your own tears. “I’m really sorry,” you repeat, your voice soft and almost pleading.

Without a response, Soonyoung walks away with his bag slung over his shoulder, his footsteps echoing as he passes through the locker room exit. The door swings shut behind him with a soft, final thud, sealing him off from view. You’re left standing alone in the boys’ locker room–the one place you did everything in your power to avoid, now the only place you find yourself wanting to stay–as the jubilant echoes of the earlier celebration now distant and muted.

The weight of this moment settles heavily on your shoulders, the joy of the day overshadowed the bitter taste in your mouth and your heart now shattered into a million tiny pieces.

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