#and the rest will fizzle out which sucks at first but... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

izzabela · 6 months ago

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Hi there! 👋 I hope you are doing well! Can you please write about Smoke getting jealous because Takeda keep hanging around the female reader that Smoke harbors romantic feelings for a long time and Takeda knows and he is purposely grinding Smoke's gears to get him to snap? (P.S Takeda and Kuai Liang teamed up and came up with the plan) 😜

Games - Tomas x fem!reader

in which a certain ninja is playing games with another ninja

a/n: "they call us the kombat kids" is my favorite intro line from that silly ninja

ship[s]: tomas vrbada x fem!reader

warning(s): post-story

Tomas glares at a certain yellow-black ninja that hovered around you like a mosquito. Except your blood wasn't being sucked by it.

Tomas stood across you and Takeda, opposite ends of a sparring circle as you three were monitoring Hanzo's progress. He didn't care, though, not when Takeda was grinning like an idiot as he slung his arm around your shoulder.

Tomas grumbles, feet practically digging into the ground as smoke fizzles around his body.

Tomas had a blazing crush on you, you see. A friend of Harumi, you were training under her clan to sharpen your skills, and that's where his crush began to flourish into love.

He couldn't say anything though. It was too risky with the life he lives, the life you live. It wasn't that you were a distraction (hell no, he loved your "distraction", it was a break from this war he was fighting).

So, until this job was done, he'd have you by his side as a friend and warrior. Nothing more. However, it was quite clear to everyone in the compound that he was pining after you.

You two would be seen at the hip, walking together, eating together, sparring too. He treated your wounds when no one was available, and you did the same. He ran errands for you, took over missions for you.

It was so obvious. Now though, it might be ruined.

Takeda joined the clan for a bit because of Kenshi. Takeda needed a place to master his anger, frustration, especially with his own trauma from the Yakuza. After some a couple of weeks, though, he integrated well with the clan.

A little too well for Tomas's sake.

Takeda began to hang around you and Tomas. More-so you than him. He inserted himself between you two, and Tomas was not pleased that his best friend slash crush was being taken away.

But who was he to control you and who you made friends with? That would be rude, and controlling, and he wanted you to be happy first and foremost.

His patience was running thin though.

Takeda first began by hanging around you two. It was friendly, getting to know you with simple and cordial conversation. It then turned into Takeda having you to himself when you were alone.

You two were having lunches together, sparring, even spending time with Hanzo when he had his breaks. Tomas swears he couldn't find you when Takeda wasn't on missions.

The final stage of Takeda's competition against Tomas was his... "hands-on" approach with you. Takeda, despite his pain and trauma caused by the senselessness of the Yakuza, remained touchy with close friends and allies. Except you, though.

He loved to hug you, squeeze your sides and tickle them. He loved to ruffle your hair, pat your head, and noogie it too.

When you guys were alone together, he'd sling his arm around your should and hug you close (like he was now). He'd skillfully play into his good looks, winking and leaning down to hear you better (girls like that? he had thought).

It annoyed Tomas to no end. He could not get you by yourself without that idiot around you. He did not want to think ill of him, but with the stunts he was pulling was pushing him further and further to the edge.

Just like he was now.

Back in the present, Tomas glared at you and Takeda, trying to zone in on the conversation you two were having. He couldn't really focus, though, when you were laughing, teeth out as you smiled at a joke(?). Takeda chuckles as well, and his arm slinks down from your shoulders to your waist.

His gloved arm rests on the small of your back, and Tomas can see you shiver at the sensitive touch. Tomas breathes in deep controlling the rage that bubbles in his veins.

"Tomas, Tomas!" Hanzo calls out, tugging on his uniform. "Did you see that?!" he exclaims as pops jabs into the air.

Takeda chuckles, coming over to the both of them with a friendly smile. You follow behind him, and your arms are wide open as Hanzo comes running to you in a hug.

"You did so great Hanzo!" you gush. "My, I believe we have our first full initiate!" You noogie his hair, and he giggles.

Suddenly, and without warning, Hanzo sneaks a kiss on your cheek. You're shocked as you touch the spot that he kissed, and Hanzo runs away to his other initiate friends. Takeda chuckles, coming to your side again.

"Who taught the boy to do that?" you question, a little laugh coming out as you watched Hanzo play tag with the other younglings.

Tomas sighs, a small smile as he watches his disciple play. "No matter, I will tell him not to do it again." Takeda chuckles, bringing you close to his side as his face is close to yours.

"T-Takeda!" you gasp. His voice is nice and low, nuzzling into your head before planting a little kiss on it.

Tomas threw his karambit near his foot, barely a centimeter near his toe.

"Away, Takeda," Tomas barely gets out of his gritted teeth. Takeda smirks, planting a very quick kiss on your cheek. He lets go of you, and Tomas makes a fast beeline for his dagger to try and cut the ninja. His pupils are small, and his irises take over completely.

"Tomas! Stop this instant!" you scold him.

Takeda has already run off, and Tomas is breathing heavy as you hold his arm back from him biting that man's head off.

"What's gotten into you?" hands on your hips as you interrogate him. "He's just being friendly..."

Tomas turns to you, a scoff coming from his mouth, "That isn't friendly. That's pushy, obnoxious, idiotic competition!" He tries to control himself, but you're stuck on the last word.

"H-hold on, competition?" You chuckle as you fix your hair, "Is this some cheesy romance novel?" Tomas burns with embarrassment as you poke his buttons to get him to talk.

Tomas swats your arms away, and you're a bit taken aback to how defensive he is. You can see how nervous he is, like an awkward teenager who wants to confess to the hottest girl at school.

Right now, you were the hottest girl, and the compound was school.

"I'll just say it," Tomas gives in. "I like you. I love you, even."

You blink, wanting to interject but he refuses. "Just let me talk." You nod.

"Since forever, I've always liked you. You were- are- a great warrior, strong, kind, and beautiful," Tomas goes on.

"You're amazing, shining so brightly. But I... I couldn't say anything." You look at Tomas with a frown, approaching him slowly as you slip your fingers in his hand.

"So why... why didn't you tell me?" you asked. "Why didn't you say anything until Takeda did stuff?"

Tomas sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he explains further.

"I'd like to say I was keeping it at bay. Until we finished this fight, the one with my brothers," you listen with bated breath. "I know you can handle yourself, but this war is relentless- I may lose you."

You sigh, closing the gap between you and his chest as your other arm reaches for his cheek.

"We may not know what the future holds, Tomas," you say softly. "But we have now. That's all. If we wait, the things we're waiting for will slip from us."

Tomas watches as your hand, the one in his hand, guides him to the back of your head. He sucks in a breath as you pull yourself closer into his chest.

"Don't let this slip, Tomas." You whisper, looking up into his eyes as he looks down at your colored orbs.

He caves, and he leans in to lock lips with you. By the gods, your lips were pillowy soft, and you tasted like honey and lavender. Deeper yhis tongue went into your mouth, and your lips fought with his as you craved the distinct taste his lips had.

Letting go, you're both panting. Wiping your lips, you smile happily, the same smile with all your pearly whites on display. Tomas chuckles, and he nuzzles your nose as your foreheads touch.

"Did I take my shot well?" Tomas asks giddily. You nod and give him a chaste kiss.

"Right on my heart, dearest Tomas."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

bonus!

Takeda knocks on the door of Kuai Liang's office. He can hear soft padding on the ground, and the door opens with Harumi's presence.

"Takeda! What ring's you by?" Harumi asks kindly as she makes way for him to walk through. Takeda smiles and walks in, and Kuai Liang makes an entrance from the bathroom.

"Just here to bring news to your husband," Takeda shrugs.

"Well? How did it go?" Kuai asks, his black locks down as he dries his hair. "Did he do it?"

Takeda laughs, taking his phone out with a picture of Tomas and you kissing with the sunset in the background. Kuai Liang smiles, taking his phone and showing Harumi the fruit of his labor.

"Oh!" she gasps, hand over her heart plus a smile. "My my, they're finally together!"

"Pay up, bro!" Takeda beckons, hand out waiting for his money. Kuai Liang takes out a couple hundred yen, shoving the bills in his hand as Takeda whoops and cheers.

"You even bet on this, husband?" Harumi interrogates. Kuai Liang quickly ushers Takeda out before he hears Harumi rip a new on in him.

=====================

GUYS I CANT WAIT FOR THE DLC YAYAYAYAYA

i cannot wait to see where this new timeline goes

aight, see yall in the next fic!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #tomas vrbada #smoke #kuai liang #scorpion #x reader #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x you #smoke x reader #mk smoke

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queercoshon · 1 month ago

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Thanks to a comment on my post, I think I'll release the parts as I write them on Tumblr, but post it all at once on deviantart once I'm done. Here's the first candle of advent;P

Pity Party

Holiday season. Christmas, once again, and once again, you were alone.

Every year before you had worked retail, so you couldn't take time to fly back to your family. This year you had a real desk job that had 2 weeks break over the holidays! When you called your mom to coordinate Christmas, she informed you they assumed you couldn't make it, and booked a sold out (and let's be real, too expensive for you) cruise that was non-refundable. But you'll do something with them next year, okay?

That sucked, but at least you had your partner. Until two days ago. They had decided you were getting too fat, even though you had met on Feabie. You know, to get fat. They actively worked to make you this fat. You had noticed they started pulling away after you said you couldn't shop for clothes in normal retail stores anymore, they just didn't have your sizes. That fucker only wanted your fat body for sexual pleasure, but was ashamed to be seen with you.

You lost 190lbs of dead weight that day, but felt a different kind of heaviness on your chest.

So, completely alone, and with office job money to spend, you decided to let loose for the few days over Christmas. You had enough weed and booze for a college house party, and a list of all restaurants that were delivering on Christmas. You also stocked the freezer with easy meals like pizza and lasagne, and horded snacks for when you just got peckish.

Eve of Christmas Eve

You dropped the last of your snacks within arms' reach in the living room and checked the wait time on your delivery. 20 minutes. You crack open a beer and drink deeply, carbonation fizzling in your gut. The malty taste starts to trigger something in you, and after a quick pause to burp, you quickly chug down the rest. The feeling of beer bloating up your big empty stomach before a night of binging always got you going. And this was going to be more than just a night of binging.

Your joint rolling has gotten better, but the condensation from the second beer can on your fingers makes it harder. Finally the edge is sealed and you can light up. Your personal blend of death star and girl scout cookies has an herbal but sweet tinge to it, and it fills your lungs and quickly clouds your brain. The second beer certainly helps with that.

Your food arrives, and you're feeling good. So what it takes you extra effort to haul your ass off the couch to get to the door? So what you haven't been able to do up your pants at all for the past week? So what if you had gotten too fat for your feeder, someone who said they got off to this? You would get off to this, but that would be a long time from now.

Tonight is an order from a pizza place. There's an extra large pizza, a full order of loaded cheesy bread, a double order of cauliflower bites, and it looks like they sent two lava cakes even though you only ordered one.

After getting settled back on your worn couch, you choose your mindless tv. Now the high is taking over, and you just want the comfort of a dumb Christmas movie. You quickly choose and then turn to your feast.

Beer and pizza is one of your favourite combos. The greasy slices pair perfectly with the calorie-filled alcohol. The alcohol fuels your haze which just makes you want more.

You let your brain turn off entirely and get to work. After a few swigs that empty half of beer number three, you stack two pieces together and dig in. You found you can trick your brain into thinking you've eaten less than you actually have this way. You can also eat faster, which means you can shovel more in before your gut starts to signal how full you are.

Your gluttonous trance takes over, and you mindlessly glut out on your pizza, pausing to take another drink, drag, or bite of cheesybread or cauliflower. Your pizza sandwich technique means you eat half the pizza in 15 minutes, along with a quarter of the cheesy bread, and you're well into beer number four. You don't feel full yet, but you do feel heavy. All of that food sits in your belly, and your belly sits on your plush thighs, slowly pushing your knees apart.

As you get higher, you're reduced to your desires and your pleasures. You get distracted by the flashy family comedy, your laughs interrupted by surprised boozy pizza belches. You rub your gut, pudgy fingers sinking into your inches of flab. The flavours of everything explode on your tongue, and you just need more. Every bite is nearly orgasmic and not so slowly, but surely, your gut stretches to accommodate your massive meal. Your upper belly juts out, soon sticking out past your flabby chest and fat-laden lower belly. Gurgles and churns echo louder than your tv, more and more sloppy belches falling from your mouth. At some point your shirt comes off to give you easier access to your belly, and so you rub and jostle it, trying to ease the aching organ while also getting riled up.

You slow your frantic gorging, instead slowly snacking on everything, switching up flavours to trick yourself into eating more. Forty-five minutes later all that remains is two pieces of cheesy bread, five cauliflower bites, and one piece of pizza. The last bite of lava cake feels like cement in your mouth, but you swallow it down and chase it with another swig of beer. You feel your skin stretch with every gulp, the itching sending shivers up your spine. Once beer number 6 is empty your hand just lets go, and the can falls down your body into the pile of cans and pizza boxes from tonight, leaving a trail of sticky booze down your belly.

Your head falls back and you pant through the burps and moans. You don't remember the last time you were this stuffed. Every breath feels like a gamble, your stomach actually creaking with every movement.

You wish they were here, your feeder. Well, ex-feeder. They would have lit the bong for you, rubbed your gut as you faded in and out of conciousness, and then started stuffing you once they thought you had room.

Fuck them, I can do this myself. You were too fat for them now? You were just getting started.

You grab the bong from the seat beside you and lit up. You take a few more shallow hits, your lungs just out of room to expand for a deep inhale. After a few minutes the more intense aches ease and your eyes get heavy, but you are determined to stay awake. At the very least, you're going to finish the pizza and cheesy bread.

There are more beers on the coffee table, but you physically cannot lean forward to get them. You're completely pinned down by the mass in your gut, compounding on your rapidly climbing weight that your body hadn't gotten used to yet. 112lbs in one year was a lot to take on. So you'll have to finish this dry. Not that you weren't fucking trashed by now, but having a sip between items usually helped.

The first piece of cheesybread goes down quickly, your last hit somehow spurring the munchies again, despite your current state. Your stomach starts to protest though, and the last piece is completed by little nibbles. A dangerous burp works its way up so you take another break, trying to gingerly massage your belly. Everything is swimming, and your arm feels like its being controlled by a puppet string, uncoordinated and foreign. You feel your stomach move under your hand as if a baby is kicking, but it's just the absurd amount of food and booze you've forced inside your body, churning away.

You casually eat the cauliflower bites, trying to focus on the end of the movie rather than your body fighting back against every swallow. You can barely understand what's being said on the tv, your pulse in your ears and in your crotch, and yet new levels of intoxication washing over you. You try to grab the last piece of pizza to get this over with, but your marionette arm just won't cooperate. You miss the slice twice entirely, your swaying vision making coordination incredibly hard. The third time you grab it awkwardly, hand half on the crust and half in the sauce, but you call this a success and bring it to your slack jaw.

Every bite feels like you have to remember how to chew, jaw sore, gut viscerally protesting, weed and booze zapping all of your focus, every part of your body is working against you.

Finally, bite after agonizing bite, the credits roll, and the entire pizza is gone. Everything is gone, into your overtaxed stomach. You can only moan now, too stuffed, high, and drunk to form a coherent thought. You rest your hads on top of your shelf of a gut, unable to figure out how to make your arms move to rub your belly without jostling it. Every breath sends another flash of cramps over your middle, your lungs just putting that much extra pressure on your abused organ. Fuck, you've really overdone it now. There is no way you could move even if your life depended on it.

Day one of Christmas Binge: Success.

#queer feedism #intox kink #intox feedee #stuffed fatty #feedism story #intox wg #stuffing literature #stuffing story #drunk stuffing #feedist #queer feedist #feedee belly #feed me #stuffing burps #stuffing wg

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bee-and-the-slimes · 1 year ago

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2024! (owo)/

First of all, Happy New Year. 🎉 *pfooot*

Second of all, thank you for still flooding my inbox with questions, lol, I'm glad I'm still on your mind, despite having slowed down considerably over the last year. I'm trying to pick and choose the best of them to continue and my "I need to park my butt and work on X" list keeps getting bigger, so thank you to those who have been patient. It's hard to keep up when you have so many ideas percolating and have to juggle a job, a house, hobbies (soooo many hobbies), and friends and family. Here's hoping 2024 can keep me going. Trust me, Bee loves your attention.

Thirdly, I know I've not been very big on talking about the Me behind the slimes, but I originally set out to keep Bee and co as a separate entity from what I normally do. Partially because I have a terrible potty mouth and a lot of my other works aren't really set up for a PG-13 rating, so I kind of wanted to keep that separate for a bit.

That being said, my New Year's goal basically boils down to "Read more, Write more, Draw more" -- one I hit the ground running toward this week. It may be more Bee, it may be more of my other comics, but if I'm silent here, maybe you might be interested in some of the other stuff I do? I haven't stopped doing, I just haven't been doing it here.

Maverick Hunter: Special Forces - Do you like Reploids? I like Reploids. Like, way too much to be considered normal.

SYSTEM.Reload is an attempt to adapt 20 years of RPs and lore building around my and my friend's characters after events of the Megaman X video games. It's a sequel of sorts to an earlier comic RIPtheSYSTEM, which was a collaboration between me and a friend that we started in 2003 and let fizzle out in 2007. .Reload started out as an Ask Blog that never went anywhere, and I just shrugged and drew 250+ pages of characters doing things under the guise of a plot. I don't pretend to know what I'm doing, I'm just kind of enjoying the ride. It's a lot more rudimentary than my actual ART because comics take time and I'm an impatient woman who will physically explode if I don't get my ideas on paper.

My biggest goal is hoping to finish out Part 2 this year. I have the majority of Part 3 written and Part 4 laid out, but I promised myself I'd hit a 2022 goal to complete Part 2 and failed that pretty miserably.... mostly because I keep going back to smooth out wrinkles instead of just finishing the thing.

I genuinely try to keep it censored for Tumblr, but Delta has the temper of a gangster with the mouth of a drug problem.

My DeviantArt - BUT WAIT, there's more! If you aren't sick of OCs or Reploids or OC Reploids you might like my page of art dump. It's where the rest of my stuff gets tossed that isn't Slimes. I don't really draw fanart that much, so mostly my work of upcoming comic panels and ideas that I haven't gotten to work in SYSTEM.Reload yet, commission work, short stories, plushies, or just RP related stuff that I felt like drawing out.

And everything is related.

Everything.

Right now I'm obsessed with working on a short story novella about a vampire named Alecscander St. John, who sucks (hurr) at being a vampire. Born in 1842, he left Texas in 1864, watched his uncle hang for a murder he didn't commit, and 'died' in 1876. I plan to be very mean to him as he tries to build a life for himself while his ex-wife holds a grudge and his adopted sire makes his life miserable. :3c Because I'm a writer. I write. And I've read too much Dresden Files to see everyone get a happy, boring existence...

So... yeah. Here goes... It's 2024.

Wish me luck.

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vyrim · 2 years ago

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Im semi excited for the full Balders Gate 3 release in a month. I have no issue with the divinity style even if some aspects of it, such as the little amount of interesting stuff that comes from leveling up, arent the most exciting. My major concern is the performance side of things. First couple of hours I was fine, able to explore the beginning of the area with a constant 60 fps. Then it just kept dipping and dipping as I played, until I basically got to the end of the ea content barely able to keep a stable 30. With that teaser video they did of the actual Balders Gate city supposedly being massive and detailed, im worried that my computer wont be able to run it at all, let alone at a non eye straining frame rate. We'll see though I guess.

Minor complaints underneath

TLDR: Wish this game looked shittier but played better. I couldnt give two shits how realistic the models or environment if it was just really well tuned. Probably gonna be one of those "Devs bit off more than they could chew" situations that Ill end up getting angry at around the second half, finish, and never play again.

-Ive always hated the spellcasting system of most tabletops. Cast a spell and its gone, if it missed or failed then sucks to be you. Its not a fun idea, and I wish most of the spells were simply made weaker or placed on a cooldown rather than limited. That was what was cool about divinity, if you figured out some really cool combos then you wouldnt have to resort to resting every couple fights just to use them again. Sucks, especially since most stuff is subject to roll rng, so your big lv 3 spellslot ability means nothing cause dipshit beat the dc by chance. Even worse when alot of spells are channeled, so if your character gets hit even once and then proceeds to fail the concentration check the spell fizzles out. Lame shit.

-THE CAMERA. The camera is atrocious, and I dont know what they did differently compared to Divinity 2, but it is a nightmare to control. If you pan too far from your character theres this, like, invisible leash that sudden kills any further movement. It also hates and form of horizontal movement, which means if your character is really high up it wont go down, and if youre trying to look up a cliff it'll just rub the wall.

-The cast is underwhelming. You have a githyanki which is neat, but otherwise its literally two human guys, a half elf, and a vampire elf. Theres not a single dwarf, halfing, gnome, or even a tiefling in the party, which is super lame. They could have easily had a dwarf with the weird magical item hunger problem, or a tiefling vampire wouldve been funny as hell.

-While the variety of extra actions are cool (I cant count how many people Ive killed by shoving them off cliffs or into lava) but theyre really clunky. The environment has so much detail that shoving or shooting in a direction is at massive risk of being just caught on some stray rock or pillar.

-The AI for npcs is still as dumb as it used to be, had a slave get mad at me for shoving its captor into lava. Guys that have never pathed will suddenly turn around out of the blue, even had one person just t-pose and vanish.

-Most of the magical equipment I got wasnt very interesting. Even the adamantite stuff I got after the big fight in the forge was just a debuff on hit. I want silly shit, I want game breaking shit, I want more stuff like those weird tentacle grenades that pull people in.

-Very buggy, and with how big theyre saying the game is gonna be I dont think its any better on release, probably worse actually. I wouldnt have such issues with it if reloading the game didnt take thirty years to complete. Poor Shadowheart made a jump only to glitch out and plummet several stories mid way.

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moffnat · 8 months ago

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hello hello! potentially random question (and if it's invasive, mb, please delete and pretend you never saw this) but do you have any advice on starting to date? i haven't dated since 2017 after unrelated trauma and mental health issues (which are now doing considerably better) and have been thinking of giving dating a try again lately, but am at a loss on how/where to start!

Aw, hey stranger! This isn't invasive at all. I'll do my best to help!

I think you've already given yourself a huge advantage by waiting until you've recovered mentally to be able to date. That's half the battle sometimes. I know it was for me!

Here are some things I can think of that might help you:

Recognize your needs. If you have something in your heart that you're set on, that you absolutely need from a partner in a relationship, understand that you deserve to have those needs met and anyone who says otherwise isn't right for you. This can be as simple as "receiving gifts makes me feel loved," or "I want to have sex often," or "I don't want to have sex often." It's not selfish for you to have needs and want someone to respect them.

Prepare for disappointment. Sometimes you're talking to someone great and things seem really promising, and then you get ghosted, or the conversation fizzles out and it's awkward. It's okay. Don't be upset. If it's not meant to happen, it's not meant to happen. Let it go and keep searching.

State your intentions in your profile. I'm assuming you're using dating apps like the rest of us. Make sure you clarify if you're looking for serious connections, are poly/monog, open to hoopkups or not, etc. It makes it easier for people to swipe left or right if they know what you're looking for, and it sucks to talk to someone cool only to have them say something like "when can I motorboat those tits," and then it's over. (True story.)

You don't owe anyone a date. If things are going really well with someone and you set up a time to meet, but get cold feet and really don't want to go, be honest and tell them. It's okay. You're not an asshole for taking care of yourself and you're not selfish. If they get mad, you win anyway by blocking their ass.

Fight for your vulnerability. I say that because people like us, traumatized and mentally ill people, we might say we're open to dating but then the reality of it sinks in, and it's fucking terrifying. It's so much easier to run and hide instead of allowing someone else to see all our layers. Don't run. If you've got a spark with someone that you really want to pursue, you owe it to yourself to seek your happiness, even if that means getting uncomfortable and showing vulnerability. The right person will make you so grateful that you did. (I'd like to clarify that this doesn't mean fucking on the first date, but rather being open with someone about your feelings and needs and past experiences. You'd be surprised how much the right person will give you in return, and how rewarding it is to receive that.)

Accept the road ahead. When you find someone good and it clicks, be prepared for a lot of learning and potential revisits to your therapist. Being seen and known is going to bring up all sorts of awful emotions and coping skills that you've learned to survive. You will have to unlearn those to welcome this new person into your life. I won't lie, it fucking blows -- I'm seven months into my relationship and I'm still working on it -- but sharing joy with someone else is absolutely worth the pain. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I don't know what else I can say without knowing your exact situation, but I really wish you luck! You deserve good things, now and always!

#keep me posted maybe? <3 #answered #relationships

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storiesofsvu · 1 year ago

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Honestly I have never trusted or believed Ziva, she is too manipulative and devious, hides too much and lies… I think her and Tony were more a firework than a burning fire - it doesn’t and won’t last long, they were more lusting for each other and an ill matched chemistry. I don’t like how she kept Tali a secret from him either, as she knew fine well how Tony hated his own childhood and missed out on a good father not just his mother. I also don’t like how Ziva treated Gibbs and comparing herself to Kelly, his dead daughter. Ziva is a narcissist plain and simple, she looks out for herself and only herself in many situations and throughout the series - for one she wouldn’t have abandoned Tali how she did otherwise as imagine how traumatic it’d be knowing your mother died only to learn she faked her death and left you?

when i first watched NCIS it was just Borin's eps, and i loved Ziva. when i went back to the beginning of the series i really didn't like Ziva, and wasn't sure if that was cause i loved kate so much or if it was just ziva lol.

this got long, so under a cut

ziva definitely came on too strong, and she hassled tony a lot when it came to his life outside of work. she was super invasive and demanding over the whole Jean thing (which yes, ONCE she was correct that something was wrong but the rest of the time she was just being annoying and sticking her nose where it didn't belong). she had to know everything that was going on with tony at all times. despite this we do have to remember that tony did lowkey did the same thing back to her, even if it wasn't as intense.

i wouldn't describe them as a firework, that would imply that it came out of nowhere, was hella spicy and then immediately fizzled off. (imo) they were this slow, low, rumbling chemistry that were constantly right person wrong time. it doesn't mean they have to be endgame, but they had *something* and it sucks that we never really got to see any of it develop on screen. there were so many small moments between them over the years that were so intimate and tender, you could tell they truly cared about each other, they just didn't know how to express it or show their true emotions, they both have complicated, confusing pasts when it comes to relationships, both romantic, friendly and especially family.

when it comes to ziva specifically, she has always worn some kind of a mask, she was a spy(yes? lol im not totally sure) so she's always known how to do exactly what she would need to do to fit in. She always plays to the highest bidder kind of thing. Once she's in ncis and the us she's not used to being herself, she doesn't really even know who she really is under all of the layers and the fact that she doesn't have to put up an act anymore (esp around tony, because he loves her for who she is) is weird, it doesn't make sense to her and likely scares her too, which would cause her to hold back.

now, to talk on the Tali thing, that was just lazy writing. A lot of times with shows like this, esp ones who are on air for long periods of time, you have to know how to separate the character from the shitty writing they got stuck with. It makes NO sense to keep Tali a secret, tony wanted to be a dad and have a family that was as far opposite from his own. the show just needed to figure out how to write the character off and they chose to go with this, because it definitely would make sense that he'd leave the force to make sure he was safe to provide for his daughter.

now, i haven't watched anything past s15 as of right now (i think it's 15? the one with jennifer esposito) so i don't know how things unfolded when ziva makes another appearance later on and we find out she's alive. But i'd assume that she had done it for her own safety, that she had tali removed and taken back to tony for *her* own safety, to protect both of their lives.If whoever was after Ziva knew she was alive, she'd be hunted until she was killed. or they'd use Tali to lure her out of hiding and Ziva wouldn't want that either. I also don't think it'd be that traumatic for Tali cause it's pretty unlikely that she'd remember much considering how young she was.

again, i haven't finished ncis, and i've only seen it once so far so i've very likely missed some stuff, or not picked up on subtext, so we can touch back on this later once ive rewatched lol

#ncis

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whythewords · 1 year ago

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Don't freak out

The date that was supposed to happen on the 26th of August did not happen. It was agreed upon, and then I just ceased to hear from the girl for the rest of the week. I messaged her to follow up. No response.

I'm used to the ghosting by now, it's an unfortunate reality of these apps that you're going to have to deal with it from time to time. I've had plenty of seemingly nice conversations fizzle out after a while, but agreeing to a planned date on a specific day and then disappearing? That stings a bit more.

Today is not a great day. It's Labour Day, holiday Monday, I should be enjoying a nice day off, but I'm not. I'm kinda spiralling. I'm having a harder time than usual being here in this apartment, which I know is something that has happened before and will likely keep happening until I find a way out, but it doesn't make it suck any less. The despair and feeling of hopelessness when I look at the monthly expense on even a one bedroom apartment sends me into a dark fucking hole of depression.

I went and got the rest of my stuff from my brother's place so I can cart it off to my uncle's storage locker in London. So yet again my car is filled with big ol' chunks of my life that, like me, are sort of in limbo, just wanting to get to the next destination. And I'm currently in limbo waiting for my dad to get back from the mall since he insisted on helping me move that stuff to his car so he can bring it up tomorrow while I'm at work, and I am just waiting for the inevitable "this is too much stuff" and "why do you need all this?" which is certainly true of a lot of it, but people seem to often forget that when you take a whole-ass house's worth of stuff and try to squeeze it into one little room, it's gonna look like a lot more than it actually is. I definitely don't need all of it and I definitely plan to get rid of a big chunk of it, but I want to make those decisions based on where I'm headed and not where I am now.

Making decisions based on where my head is at now feels like it would be detrimental. But that's because I'm just in a slightly more aggressive than usual "bummer" state...but I also can't tell if this is my norm and the occasional times I'm doing things I enjoy are just temporary joy highs.

The last Friday before this long weekend was the last day of our summer hours, and seeing as I did the full shift last week, I would have the wonderful luxury of leaving at noon this past Friday...except I didn't have that luxury, my manager called me and informed me of this on Thursday of this last week. Bummer. But he cut a deal with me that if I take this shift, he would just give me the full day off next Friday. I'm trading four hours for eight. Good deal! Joy! Had my first physical last week where she confirmed that I was mostly healthy (joy!) even though I've been feeling sick for several days (bummer.) and she all but confirmed what I already knew which was that I need to eat better and lose some weight. Bummer again. Ran some tabletop gaming and took a day trip with some close friends over the weekend. Joy! Woke up with the crippling sense of dread that I would never get out of this apartment and dug myself deeper into that hole by looking at nearby one bedroom apartments, even the cheapest of which were grossly out of my budget. Bummer. Remembered that I've only got a three day work week this week since Friday is going to be my bonus day off! Joy! Remembered that Friday was also supposed to be my first date with the one girl seemingly left after that dating blitz, the one I vibed with the most, the one I should have paid more attention to from the very beginning...but that after several first dates already being postponed it seems like that one is fizzling too, and there's a good chance that if it doesn't happen on Friday, it's not going to happen at all...

Bummer. Bummer, but don't freak out. That's what I'm telling myself now, don't freak out. I literally went into my Google calendar and added a few question marks to the event reminder. Then I made a new event and set it for that morning and I called it "Don't freak out." And in the notes I wrote this:

"Don't freak out if you haven't heard from her yet. Don't freak out if the date doesn't happen. Don't freak out if it looks like you're never going to meet her. There will be others, but only when you want there to be. Take a break from it. You have today off. Relax. Enjoy it. Watch some TV, play some guitar. Wake up early and have some tea and enjoy the quiet of the apartment before mom and dad start their routine. Play some Switch, read a little, catch up on your podcasts. Just take the day to not think about any of the things that are making you sad. Just take the day."

I don't want to get to a place where I have to remind myself to be happy. I just want to BE happy. And I'm trying.

I'm trying not to freak out.

#life of joe #not so daily journal #dating

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s0litaire-y · 11 months ago

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OKAY no one* asked but here it is 😋 (mainly focusing on james/logan bcs they’re what i’m focusing on rn and i’m currently writing a fic abt them) this is all very nebulous and just vague ideas for a fic please someone talk to be about them bcs i’m going crazy.

so basically let me paint a picture for you guys. it’s right after a race, in james vowles’ hotel room. literally any race, the only thing that’s important is that it was Bad. like capital B bad. logan dnfed, he got dead last, there was an issue with his car, whatever it was it was a shit race. and alex did fine like he was in the points, he had good pace, he was battling with the other cars and winning and logan was struggling so bad. james is in his hotel room late at night working on emails and whatever when he gets a knock at his door. hello? it’s logan and he is fucked up. like absolutely hammered, practically incoherent. he tries to kiss james or like tries to suck his dick or something and james is like hey idk what’s happening rn but you’re drunk and i don’t feel comfortable doing anything with you. also you seem like you’re not doing too hot and i’m worried ur in the wrong headspace for anything to happen, do you want to talk about it or do you want to go to sleep? like what do you need. and logan is like kind of upset james doesn’t want anything but he’s like okay whatever i’ll go to sleep it’s fine and he passes out in james’ bed and james tucks him in

james does not get ANY sleep that night. he’s like sitting on the sofa, staring at logan who’s snoring peacefully and he’s reevaluating every single interaction they had ever. and he’s like oh shit maybe i was being a little weird. like he left his hand on logan’s shoulder a little bit too long, was a little bit too proud when logan scored points, and after telling logan that he had disregarded the blush as logan just being happy to get points finally. by the time morning comes he’s about to report himself to hr when logan wakes up. and james is like logan i think we should probably talk about this? and then they maybe have sex and but for sure logan cries and james comforts him and is like you’re so good i promise you haven’t disappointed us, etc etc.

and then this is where i havent fleshed out the rest of it but basically james isn’t unfamiliar with the concept of sleeping with his drivers lol like he had a thing with alex when alex first joined williams which fizzled out mutually after a season or two. and then he and logan start sleeping together and it’s all like praise kink, dubious power imbalance, that deal.

that’s the fic so far but anyways! the whole thing with them it’s really at the core of it all logan wanting soooo badly to make james proud and the team proud and james knowing this and being proud of logan for trying and like the inferiority complex from logan and like how miserable it must be to have a shit car and feel like it’s his fault he’s not doing well. and james himself is very passionate about the team and he also wants the team to succeed, but he also really wants logan to succeed too! like you can see it in how he talks about it all. and he knows logan is doing his best and in Those Radios he was so gentle with logan and made sure to prioritize him… like yeah. i get it. anyways like james wants logan to know he’s doing well right? like he wants his driver to be on his A game and logan can’t be on his A game if he’s constantly beating himself up so james has gotta do something about that and he’s gotta figure out a way to let logan know it’s okay and he’s proud of him. and logan feels like he’s failing on track and he just really wants to make james proud and he can’t do that during the race then he’s gotta do it outside of races 🤷 i don’t make the rules that’s just how it is.

this all kind of stems from me thinking a little bit too much about how logan was trying super hard to do his best last season and you could tell he felt so bad whenever he thought he was disappointing the team… like he wants to do well SOOOOO badly it’s sickening actually. like the core thesis for the logames (name is open to suggestions bcs i have no clue what to call them) theory is how badly logan wants to prove himself. he’s so hungry to succeed and win and do his absolute best and make the team proud, and mostly make james proud.

but that’s the whole deal with them, someone PLEASEEEE let me talk to you about them i’m kind of going insane. also i do realize this was mostly james/logan and then a mention of james/alex but that’s because rn alex is too mentally stable for his relationship with james to be super interesting to me (if i’m wrong correct me that’s just how i see it) and eventually like logan and alex have a thing and yeah.

*also someone did ask for this so here it is!

so who wants to hear my james vowles/logan sargeant/alex albon thesis

#this is all over the place sorry #sigh #anyways #james/logan

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dream0fschism · 2 years ago

Note

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

#konig x reader #konig x you #König x reader #König x you #konig smut #König smut #konig fanfiction #König fanfiction #König call of duty #konig mw2 #König mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #könig x fem reader

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lynn-writes-things · 3 years ago

Text

secrets uncovered - toge inumaki x reader

cw: suggestive themes! nothing explicit tho!

word count: 941

“Ooo, someone had some fun last night.” Nobara teases you, poking at the very prominent hickey sucked into your neck last night by your secret boyfriend. She tugs down your collar with an excited gasp when she notices even more marks. Just as quickly, you’re tugging it back up, face burning hot as you do your best to avoid looking at the man who gave you them, and more, last night. The lot of you, former first and second years, now graduated are now having a movie night to celebrate.

“My, my, we’ve got a little slut on our hands.” Maki joins in the teasing, enjoying your embarrassment. On the other couch, sandwiched between Yuta and Megumi, it’s Yuji who puts two and two together, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Wait a minute..” He begins, and you can’t help the way your wide eyes nervously glance to Toge, sitting on the floor next to Panda, only to see the white-haired boy practically glaring a warning at his pink-haired friend. “Y/N, weren’t you with Inumaki yesterday..?” The entire room goes quiet, save for the movie still idly playing, though no one is paying attention to it now. Now it’s Megumi’s turn to share in the memory of you denying their offer to hang out after lunch with the couple, stating that you had plans with Toge.

“You did mention that.” He states, not sure whether to feel happy that you finally laid your long-time crush, or disgusted.

“What?!” Nobara borderline-screamed, grabbing you by the shoulders roughly. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“W-Well-“

“We’re your friends! What-“

“Let her explain herself.” Maki interrupted, her hand firmly resting on Nobara’s shoulder, instantly making the redhead settle down. All eyes were on you, except for Toge, whose face was buried in his hands. You could hear the muffled sounds of Yuta trying so hard to hold in his laughter, to no avail.

“We just.. I-“

“Alright,” Megumi cuts in, seeing as you’re too flustered to speak, and Toge can’t speak to explain the story. “Just leave it be for now. This is probably why they didn’t tell you.”

“Who says you get a say in this?!” Nobara argues. “Our sweet little Y/N.. So innocent.. So pure..” She fakes a sniffle for dramatic effect, and the topic might’ve been on the way of fizzling out, except the comment about your innocence and purity made Toge snort, earning a sharp warning glare from you.

Yuji does a spit take, choking on the drink he was about to swallow, making his boyfriend sigh in annoyance while patting his back to help him through it.

“Really couldn’t help yourself there, huh?” Yuta comments through laughter to Toge, who’s seemingly lost all shame as far as the topic was concerned, smiling proudly.

“So, are you guys dating, or just..” Panda trails off, but the insinuation is there, making you groan in embarrassment, covering your burning face with your hands.

“Salmon.” Toge speaks up, standing and walking over to you, removing your hands from your flushed face and kissing your lips to seal the deal. He pulls away a moment later, both of you sporting matching smiles. To your right, Maki fakes a gag, and Nobara grabs a pillow and half heartedly smacks at the two of you, both of them only making you laugh.

“She’s fuckin’ liked him long enough.” Megumi comments, earning a glare from you. Toge wears a smug grin at the confession, that falters when Yuta’s grin matches his as he raises his eyebrow.

“Don’t.” Toge mouths, but it’s far too late for mercy, Yuta is already opening his mouth and spilling his secret. “He’s liked her for years-“ Suddenly, the pillow has been snatched from Nobara and thrown at the dark-haired sorcerer, which he effortlessly catches, as he and the rest of your friends fall into laughter.

“I’m happy for you guys!” Yuji exclaims when everyone’s settled down a bit. When you look over at him, he’s absolutely beaming, making it impossible for you not to return his smile. To your right, Maki taps her girlfriend on the shoulder with a smirk on her lips before whispering a question in her ear to pass onto you, making Nobara gasp.

“Wait!” She exclaims. “We’ve gotta know..” There’s a pause for dramatic effect, naturally. “How was he?” Both girls are smirking, barely containing their giddiness, knowing that Toge can’t speak up to defend himself. Maki moves her hand to her cheek, acting like she’s scratching an itch while she mouths to you to play along. You get the picture real quick, and it takes a lot of willpower not to let your expressions betray you.

“He was-“

“Y/N, stop talking.” You feel his cursed words buzz in your head, similarly to last night, and you could no longer force yourself to speak. Laughing though, you could do that, giggling uncontrollably at his reaction. You were going to praise him, but Toge would rather not have your shared sex life being discussed like this.

“..Did he do that to you while you were-“

“Maki, Nobara, quiet.” Under different circumstances, they would’ve attacked him for this, but all three of you were damn near in tears from laughter, yet you were nodding, confirming their question, much to your boyfriend’s dismay.

“..Why does that sound like it’d be really hot though..” Yuji ponders, earning a whack on the back of his head by Megumi. Yuta is having the time of his life, he can’t remember the last time he’s laughed this much. Meanwhile, Panda just shakes his head, wishing he would’ve left sooner when he had the chance.

#inumaki toge #inumaki toge x reader #jjk x reader #toge x reader #inumaki x reader

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enchantcdstories · 3 years ago

Text

Purple Tulips

Word Count: 2647 | No context warnings other than fluff | Guys this fic is actually beta'd! My work won't suck as much now lmao ⁂

Love, and even more so in marriage, was complicated.

You had witnessed countless divorces and separations around you, from family friends to your own parents. From a young age, you had sworn you wouldn’t end up like them. You’d have a happy marriage and be one of those couples that would have their 70th anniversary announced on the news like some sort of prestigious award. High school came with summer flings and off again- on again boyfriends, almost to the point where you thought it was your fault. Something was wrong with you. Still, you were determined to make every relationship work. College came with serious relationships that fizzled out with stress and time, experimenting with various genders and sexualities, dramatic announcements on facebook stating that you had ‘sworn off dating and would remain single for the rest of your life’.

And then you met Marc.

Marc was one of the sweetest, kindest men you had met. He went the extra mile to go out of his way to show you how much he cared about you. An added bonus was how incredibly handsome he was, so naturally, you fell for him. You fell hard for him. A year of dating and suddenly you were engaged and married to him. Every hope and fear of relationships you had once had were out in the open and on the table, shared with him and confided in him. Both of you were determined to make it work. He had passion and adventure coursing through his veins.

Then he disappeared. He came back eventually, changed, but still alive. He was tenser, snappier, more stressed than normal. Suddenly, the picture perfect marriage you had for a little while didn’t seem so perfect. Suddenly, you could see your worst nightmare coming true- a failed marriage. Just another statistic. Marc was colder than before, shaking off your touches and keeping himself distant. For a while, it worked; it was painful and heartbreaking, but it worked.

And then you met Steven.

Which was odd. The whole situation was odd and delicate, even after all this time. It was still Marc, but it wasn’t. At first you thought he was joking, maybe Marc had snapped and this was his way of coping; after a while, you couldn’t think like that anymore.

In fact, you even grew to like Steven. Where Marc had turned sour and prickly, Steven was caring and gentle, nervous and unsure. It was refreshing, even a little thrilling. Being around Steven brought up the feelings of being newly married to Marc, the same love and care seeping through the air. It also brought heartache, knowing full well that it was just too complicated and confusing to really act on the feelings you had deep in your heart. No matter what happened, however, you still loved both Marc and Steven.

A therapist had once told you to take every morning slowly. Assess the situation and take it one stride at a time. Which, that morning, you were. It was no different to any other morning, the smells of fresh bacon cooking on the stove, hashbrowns heating up in the oven, and fresh coffee brewing filling the air. Work would start in an hour, but you gave yourself enough time to ease yourself into the day.

“Mornin’” A voice, thick with a posh British accent, made you jump, a strip of bacon nearly flying out of the pan as he scared you mid- flip. Steven’s voice was normally very comforting (if a little goofy upon first hearing it); however, it was still unnerving to hear at times. Every morning went like this, it seemed: a good morning to tell you who was fronting that day.

“Oh, Good morning, Steven.” You replied, watching Steven out of the corner of your eye as you tended to the bacon. He moved to make himself a cup of tea, a small smile curling up at the corner of your lips. Marc would never make himself tea, but Steven loved the stuff. It was one of the first signs you really knew that Marc wasn’t playing with you.

“Sleep well then, yeah?” He asked, dunking his tea bag in and out of the boiling water. You both slept in the same bed, but Steven wouldn’t know how last night went. You fished the bacon out of the pan, setting it on a paper towel before cracking some eggs to cook. Steven had fetched a bowl of cereal out, content with his sugary breakfast foods. Marc hardly ever ate breakfast.

“Yeah I did, did you…I mean.. How long have you been,” You paused. How do you ask someone how long they’ve been hidden away for? “Asleep?”

Steven chewed his food for a second, thinking. “What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Ah,” He beamed, as if this answer was good. “Only a few days then, the last I remember was Thursday.” You grinned, putting a lid over the eggs to let them cook. The kitchen was filled with just the sounds of eggs popping and Steven chewing. Your thoughts for the day overtook you for a moment, a list of stuff you’d need to do at work playing in your head. You didn’t know what to say to him. Everything was still working out for the three of you, still in the awkward phases.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Steven asked suddenly, setting his bowl on the kitchen table and bringing the mug of tea to his lips. Surprised, you wracked your brain- not expecting to talk much to him. In all honesty, you had expected Marc’s gruff morning voice to greet you.

“Why?” You didn’t mean to sound like you were accusing, but the question took you off guard. Steven did a nervous little shrug, setting his tea down.

“Dunno..just feel like.. We know nothing ‘bout each other, despite everything. Start with the basic questions. What’s your favourite flower, favourite colour, ya know?” He paused, watching you. “It’s a dumb question…I’m-I’m sor-”

“Tulips. And purple.” You said, cutting him off. The memory of the flower in question and its significance flooded every inch of your body, sparking every nerve ending in the process. It was almost like you could smell that day, the aisle covered in tulip petals and lilac bouquets. You could feel the white silk dress beneath your fingers…and then suddenly you could smell eggs cooking and coffee finishing brewing.

Steven looked curious, as if he knew you had a whole drawn out answer, but was too scared to ask what it was. He put his empty cereal bowl in the sink before slowly sitting down at the kitchen table, his long fingers trailing the handle of the tea mug.

“W-why? Can I ask why?” His voice was soft and delicate. Gods, you just melted at that stupid accent, you thought. You used to hate it, mock it, despise it- until you grew to love it. You thought for a moment. You didn’t know if Steven was ready to hear details about Marc’s life- about where his own body might have been without him knowing. You wouldn’t want to know, you thought. It’d be too weird. Changing the subject, your voice faltered a bit as you loaded up your various breakfast foods and a cup of black coffee, bringing it to the table to sit down next to him.

“What about you? Favorite color at least?” You could see his face get nervously paler, a pang of guilt shooting through your own stomach as you started eating. Did you just scare the poor guy? Did he think he insulted you? You were about to open your mouth to reassure him when he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing his face and taking a sip of tea.

“I suppose uh.. I suppose orange, I guess. For a goldfish I had back at my flat in London. Though, I suppose he wasn’t really gold- don’t know why they call them that really…” He rambled for a moment, his nervousness making his words speed up and his accent got the tiniest bit thicker. You nodded, taking a sip of coffee and winced at the bitter taste. He looked at you, his melted chocolate eyes wide and innocent. “If I at all offended you, I’m terribly, terribly sorry I just..” You shook your head, cutting him off.

“It’s fine, I can tell you. I just…didn’t want you to be upset. It’s a Marc memory, after all.” You could see him wince the tiniest bit. You had to remember that this whole world was just as new to him as it was to you. He nodded anyway, taking another drink and swallowing hard. You felt bad in a way, despite how strange this all was.

“It was uh,” It was your turn to fiddle with the handle of the coffee mug. “It was our wedding. We had tulips at our wedding.” Steven nodded, casting his eyes down a bit before glancing back up to you.

“Was it a nice memory? The wedding?”

You paused for a moment, letting every memory of that day fill your brain. After such a rocky start to your dating life, that day was perfect. It was stressful, sure, but what wedding wasn’t? It all felt surreal talking about this to the man you married. Not really the same man, you reminded yourself. Same body, different person. You smiled, the same smile you wore as you walked down the aisle, walking towards Marc as he waited for you.

“It was. Yeah. I uh…” You took one last bite of your breakfast, getting up and putting the dishes in the sink and striding over to the bookcase in the living room. Steven just watched you, finishing his tea and fiddling with the cold cup. The photo album was inconspicuous, just a plain photo album that was gifted to you a couple of weeks after your wedding. You had hardly looked at it since Marc vanished suddenly. You set it down in front of Steven, flipping it open to the first page. Photos of the empty wedding venue, dolled up and decorated in preparation, yet missing its guests.

“You got photos then, yeah?” You nodded, sitting back across from him. Steven gently flipped through the photos, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing at it gently. He let out a breathy laugh, running his hands over the pages. His own face stared back at him in a suit, standing next to you in a white satin dress.

“Bit weird, innit?” He asked out loud, more to himself than you. “All these memories that Marc has…that I don’t.” He let his words go quiet. You watched him carefully, his eyes wide and scanning each photo.

“Is it what you would have wanted? If you could get married?” It was an odd question for you to be bringing up. Eventually you’d have to wrap your mind around it all. Steven shrugged.

“Don’t know, really. Never had much luck with the whole dating scene. Missed a couple of dates flat out thanks to ol’ Marc there. I’m just too…nervous. Too Steven.You know,” He gestured to his head, flipping another page in the photo album. “I hadn’t even had a proper kiss. I mean. Obviously this body has, with Marc and you. But me? Not a thing. It seems like it was nice though, nice and…flower-y.” You smiled, leaning on your elbow as you watched him. You brushed aside the thought of him going on a date, again, it was a learning curve for yourself and Marc and Steven.

“Well I think being too “Steven” has its charms. You’re very sweet, for instance. You listen. That alone could be a selling point.” You pointed out. Steven looked up at you, his eyes wide and his head shaking.

“No, no I wouldn’t consider myself a selling point. Marc would have a field day if he knew you were complimenting me.” You could almost see him blushing just the slightest bit as he averted his eyes back down to the pictures. He stopped, staring at a photo of you alone in your wedding dress. You could see his eyes wandering up and down the photo.

“You just.. You look really…beautiful,” He murmured. “I mean here. You look really beautiful here.” You couldn’t help but laugh, your own turn to blush now.

“Nice save.” You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. Steven was positively beet red now, though his eyes still stayed on the same photo of you. As if he could tell you were watching him, he averted his eyes, glancing around the kitchen before landing on the clock on the microwave.

“Oh blimey, would you look at the time!” He rushed up, taking the photo album and closing it. “Half past eight O’clock…you’re gonna be late for work if you keep chattering on to little ol’ me.” He practically helped you out of your chair, gathering your purse and jacket and helping you get them on.

“Steven, really, it’s fine, I enjoy talking to you..” You insisted, still getting your jacket on and fishing your car keys out of your purse. Steven always walked you to the door every morning when he was around; one of the many things you seemed to overlook, until now. Now, it was one of the sweetest gestures - one Marc hadn’t done for you.

You stopped just outside of the door, turning around to face Steven. He looked adorable in the morning light, bed head and all. Your heart raced as your brain seemed to get the message of what you were about to do across to the rest of your body. Gently you leaned up on the balls of your feet, the flats of your shoes slapping back down to the ground, as you learned up and gently placed your lips to his. Kissing him was like coming home; his lips familiar, his scruff brushing against your chin the way it did on that same wedding night. He still smelled the same, Marc probably had put on his cologne last night before bed. To Steven, however, it must have felt foreign and wrong. Kissing Marc’s wife. Even still, he put his hands gently on your waist, keeping his hands still as he relaxed a bit. You rested your head against his forehead for a moment before pulling away, smiling up at him gently. You could taste the tea on his lips.

“It’s not the same, I guess, but I hope that crosses one thing off your list of ‘haven’t hads’.” You turned away, giving him one last smile as you took in his gobsmacked expression.

“I uh yeah. Yep. Y-you have a good day at work, yeah? You..I uh.. Th-thank you!” He called out, watching you as you got into your car.

⁂

Work had drawn out longer than you had expected. You were sore, tired, and in desperate need of a shower. The house was dark when you got home, and you had presumed that either Marc had gone out to do whatever he did when you weren’t around, or he was asleep. Or Steven was asleep. Either way, it seemed you were alone for the night. Sighing, you put your purse on the side table and locked the door behind you, running your hands over your face as you could practically feel the grime of the day settling on you. A hot bath and a long sleep was in order, you thought.

Making your way to the kitchen, you struggled to find the light switch on the wall, taking a few seconds to pat around the wall blindly before snapping on the light. When it turned on, it revealed both a sticky note, telling you that your dinner was in the microwave- signed by Marc- and a vase of flowers, with a sticky note signed by Steven on the edge of it.

A vase of tulips, to be exact. Purple ones.

#marc spector x reader #Steven Grant x reader #Oscar Isaac #Moon Knight #long post #I'm sorry it wouldn't add a read more

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windvexer · 2 years ago

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Hi Chicken, this question is gonna be a bit weird, please bear with me. I started witchcraft when i was still a young teenager, never really serious or in depth, but i got good results. In my late teens i met adults who told me I'm a super special magical alien soul (just like them) which is the reason we have these magical powers. It was the whole cultish starseed shit. But i was young and got sucked into it too deeply. When i grew older i started to distance myself from them because it just got too fucked up for me. They said this is because there's an astral monster that hunts and eats alien souls and i left because my soul got eaten and now I'm souless and rid of my magic. Unless of course i come back because they salvaged my soul from the monster to give it back to me. Now I'm an adult myself and i don't believe this stuff anymore but i have troubles doing magic rituals ever since. My focus fizzles out and there is just this left over doubt that sabotages me. What if i really have no soul anymore, what if my magic will never work again? Do you know any spellwork to get rid of this inner blockage and leave all of this behind for good? This is bullshit what they said right? I hope you're having a good day.

Hello!

I'm very sorry to hear you got sucked into something so awful, but I'm even more glad to hear that you were able to get out.

I know that you already know, but please let me affirm it for you - your soul did NOT get eaten, and an astral monster did NOT remove your ability to do magic.

Nor do I think a spell is the solution.

The topic of losing our grasp on our own magical abilities has been an important one for me over this past year. Rest assured that this is a relatively common phenomenon - not everyone experiences it, but plenty of people do.

It is normal for people to outgrow prior belief systems and frameworks that made magic possible.

Anecdotally, I recall first experiencing this problem early on when I was learning tarot. I had started to deeply question the beliefs I had about tarot and why it worked. I pulled at one thread, and suddenly my whole sweater of faith became unraveled. And for a while, I couldn't read tarot.

It was danged frustrating, because I knew tarot could work - but it was not currently working for me. I had drilled too many holes in the bucket of faith that held my power. And so I had to make a new bucket.

Quite literally I had to grow enough and learn enough so that I could find a new framework of belief that allowed me to reconnect with my cards.

The neat thing is that now I've got a lot of buckets, which really comes in handy. So the whole situation is very frustrating to go through, but I think there's a silver lining.

I've written many things on this topic over the past year. I hope some of these are helpful:

Ask: Revitalizing practice after dry periods

growth in witchcraft as shedding of snake-skin

Ask: Spiritual authority in witchcraft

troubleshooting spotty spirit connections/“godphoning”

One of the most powerful and liberating things you can do

Ask: What do you do when all your divining seems to be out of whack?

#answered

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theunquenchablethirst · 3 years ago

Text

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

#gotham #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #fanfic #smut

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sister-lucifer · 2 years ago

Text

Dress Up

Idia Shroud x Vil Schoenheit

Vil uses he/she pronouns, Idia uses he/him

Genre: fluff, comfort

content/warnings: mentions of sensory issues(Idia is autistic and i will NOT be taking criticism), small hints of body insecurities

Idia groaned to himself, sitting awkwardly on the end of the bed as his lover laid out all of the clothes he’d bought. He hadn’t asked for them—in fact he never asked for anything—but Vil always found an excuse to get him something. Not that he disliked the gifts, but it could be a bit…much

“Oh, just wait, Idia! You’re going to looove this,” Vil insisted once more as he smoothed out the fabric of the sweater. It was a simple design, black with blue flames on the ends of the sleeves, certainly less extravagant than what Vil usually sprung for, but it was perfect for Idia. Just one of the many things Vil had picked out for him on his “quick” trip to the store.

Vil hummed to himself as he looked over the clothes again and again, imagining his lover in them and trying to figure out which one he wanted him to try on first.

Idia, on the other hand, could not be less thrilled. He hugged one of his blankets close to his face, shuddering at the thought of trying on clothes. It was a tedious, uncomfortable, sometimes painful activity, filled with horrible grating textures and restrictive fabric. Not to mention the looming possibility of seeing his unclothed body in the mirror, especially when the person he admired most was expecting so much.

He didn’t want to move. He was comfortable right here.

“Oh, you’re going to LOVE the sweater I found! It’s just so you! It’s like it was meant to be, really! I can see it now, it perfectly compliments your hair, and— and…”

Silence. Not unusual for Idia, but Vil could feel his unease.

“My love, what’s wrong?” She asked, titling her head in confusion.

Idia winced at the question, holding the wadded up blanket even tighter against him and bringing his legs to his chest. He didn’t say anything for a long few moments, not until Vil’s gaze pulled a hesitant answer out of him.

“I…I don’t like trying on clothes…” Idia answered in a whisper, looking anywhere but Vil’s face.

Oh, his heart; Vil could practically feel it breaking. Not that he would ever let it show, of course. Being anxious wasn’t exactly new for Idia, but Vil could tell this was different. Normally when Idia didn’t want to do something he would fight tooth and nail, try desperately to find a way out, but he was being so…quiet. As if this was some sort of terrible, inevitable thing that he had no hope in stopping.

But why?

To put it bluntly, because Idia hated failing others. Vil would surely be disappointed if he refused, he just knew it. She was so happy about her shopping spree, he wasn’t going to ruin that.

“Oh…” Was all Vil managed at first. The rest of the words took a moment to form.

“Is…Is there a reason why?”

Idia winced even harder.

“N-No…” A lie, and a blatant one at that. Vil scoffed at the obvious fib.

“Come now, my love, you don’t have to lie. If…”

Vil paused. Swallowed. Sucked in a breath before speaking again.

“If you don’t like what I picked out, I’ll just take it back—“

“No—! I-I mean, no…” Idia replied, much faster than he meant to.

“I-I just…I just don’t like doing it…New clothes are always uncomfortable, a-and usually trying on clothes means i’m getting ready to go somewhere, and i HATE doing that, and it’s not even worth it because I don’t even look good in most things, and I hate seeing myself when I change, and— and, and…”

His voice fizzled out into a whimper as he fell back onto the bed, holding the blanket over his face.

Vil sighed, brows knitted tightly together as she reached out for Idia’s hand.

“Idia…” He called out in a coo, trying to make his tone as comforting as possible. Slowly he was able to pull Idia’s hand to him, gently rubbing over his knuckles with her thumb. She allowed him to calm down, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to slow a bit before speaking again.

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry…If you don’t want to try them on you don’t have to. Really.”

Idia only whined in response. He pulled the blanket down a bit, uncovering just his eyes.

“Should I ask next time I buy you clothes, love? I don’t want you to think there’s any pressure…”

“N…No…” Idia’s hand squeezed Vil’s tightly as he forced out the word. “I…I like when you get stuff for me, even though you don’t have to…I’m just a bad person to get gifts for…”

“Not true,” Vil argued, laying down beside Idia. “You’re always worth buying for, even if it’s something that goes untouched on your shelf until the end of time.”

“I would never do that…”

“I know, darling. But even if you did, anything I buy for you is money well spent. I do want you to be honest with me, though…” Vil sat up, glancing over at the desk with the clothes laid out on it. “Do you want me to take them back?”

Idia shook his head with a small “mm-mm.”

Vil was relieved to be sure, but the problem wasn’t solved yet. He laid back down as he thought carefully about his next words.

“Idia…I’m not going to make you do anything, okay?”

A small nod in reply was all she was given.

“But I also think that you deserve nice things, to be pampered and dressed up every once in a while…If you don’t want to that’s okay, really, but I don’t want you to be scared—“

She stopped abruptly when Idia turned over to face her, his entire face now visible.

There was a long moment of silence with Idia’s mouth hanging half open as he weighed his words.

“I…C-Can we do just one?“

It took her a moment to process the hardly audible words, but when she did Vil couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course, darling. I know just the one.”

Idia watched him intently as he stood, sitting up with him, eyes following his hands as they carefully picked up the sweater and held it up.

“It’s comfy, I promise. I know you hate that itchy wool stuff.” Vil assured him as she laid the sweater across his lap. He was hesitant to pick it up, but upon realizing how soft it was he was significantly less opposed to the idea of putting it on. He rubbed the soft material against his face, sighing at the surprisingly pleasant, clean smell it emitted.

He began to stand up before Vil stopped him, putting a hand on his chest and gently encouraging him to stay sitting.

“I-I gotta go try it on…” Idia muttered in confusion.

“No, no, baby. I’ll help you.” Vil explained rather nonchalantly as her hands found the hem of the shirt Idia was currently wearing.

A small “What…?” fell from Idia’s mouth, but it was not a protest. When Vil looked up at him for confirmation, he nodded.

He did not dread the sudden vulnerability that came with each new inch of exposed skin. He did not shudder at the sudden coldness he would usually be feeling. He did not shy away from the feather light touches of his lover’s hands, and for the first time he did not look down to inspect or scrutinize his bare flesh.

He couldn’t even if he wanted to; he was too busy watching Vil. Even when he was temporarily blinded by the fabric of his shirt, his stare did not waiver.

He could feel the chill of the air all around him, and yet his body was so warm at the same time. Vil’s hand didn’t burn or freeze or hurt in any way when it came down to rest on his diaphragm, and his gentle touch left no angry red marks as his fingers slid down.

Not like Idia’s hands, not like how they often found themselves tearing at his imperfections. Not like him at all.

His hand came down onto Vil’s, his palm resting over top of his knuckles but not pushing or pulling his hand anywhere.

With her free hand Vil reached for the sweater, taking one last look at it before she had to pull her hand away.

She pressed it against his chest, and Idia nearly sighed at how lovely the soft material felt against his skin. As soothing as it was, though, he was much more ready to have it on.

“Arm, love.”

Arm.

“Other arm, now.”

Other arm.

“Watch your head.”

Head.

“Beautiful.”

Beautiful.

“Beautiful?” The word fell from his blue lips before he could stop it.

“Beautiful.”

Soft was the only word to describe it. Soft was how Idia felt when the sweater came over him completely. Soft was how he felt when Vil pulled him in for a kiss. Soft was how he felt when all of a sudden he was laying with her, cradling her as if she was made of glass.

Soft, soothing, warm.

Beautiful.

Everything Idia Shroud could not be on his own.

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #idia shroud x vil schoenheit #idiavil #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #fluff #tw sensory issues #comfort

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cryptic-underground · 2 years ago

Text

I technically finished writing this at four am but I didn't feel like posting then because I was literally exhausted.

I got this idea a while ago and wrote 3/4 of it then left in my drafts because I thought it sucked buns, but I was rereading it and it low-key kinda slapped? Still not perfect because I haven't it but is decent for something written at the ass crack of morning

So enjoy!

Sky Lights & Headphones

Sun Wukong stared up the at the sky with expectancy, bountiful amounts of excitement bouncing as he and the others waited for the coming fireworks.

MK had come to him with a flyer earlier the day during their training session. The paper was brightly coloured described the festival's activities and firework show. Wukong could only hope the fireworks lived up to their advertising, since the other festivities were pretty up to par.

The kid had, of course, invited the rest of crew to come with. Somehow even convincing Macaque to come along.

The demon monkey had been acting rather off after arriving. He seemed.. quieter. Less himself.

He had barely tried to get arise out of the monkey king, which was odd, while they walked through the stands. Lagging behind the rest of the group as they waded through the crowds of other festival goers.

Wukong pretended to not see when Macaque would flinch when someone would raise their voice to be heard over the other talk, or when metal utensils being used by the food vendors were clanged together, or when someone would brush against him and he'd become a little smaller. More fragile..

He pretended to not see how badly his old friend wanted to crumple to the ground with how many sound he was hearing all at once, mostly definitely overwhelmed and in pain. Macaque would brush it off as the king seeing things and he'd be back at square one.

He bit back the urge to ask, since the others would hear. If the shadow monkey hadn't said anything, then he didn't want the others knowing. If they hadn't known from the legends that he had six ears, he probably would've kept that a secret to.

He bit back the urge to reach out and comfort the other because he was scared. To get hurt, to hurt the other again...

Now, they stood in the center of the whole festival. Waiting for the fireworks.

And he's excited to see the amazing colours, but worry for the other demon had nestled next to that excitement and nagged at his mind. They stood a foot away from each other, the rest of the group standing on the other side of Wukong. He was so close, so within reach..

He can see Macaque anxiously fidgeting with his scarf, as he two waited for the lights but in fear rather than excitement. Preparing for the sound of explosion to go off and the pain that would come with it.

Wukong's brows crease together, golden eyes looking at the other in a mix of pity and concern. Suddenly wishing the fireworks would get cancelled, that the sky would become too overcast to set them off.

His heart ached for the other in a way that felt overwhelming. To not have the distance between them so it'd make it easier to aid his once close friend.

"Mac-" his voice was rigid as the sage reached out a hesitate hand to grab the shorter monkey's arm, wanting to pull the other close. Or, perhaps, take him a little farther away so it may not hurt so much. Then he heard a sudden boom go off as the sound flooded his ears.

His eyes flicked to sky to see a something tiny fly up into the sky then bursting into an explosion of red and yellow before subsequently fizzling out.

The first firework.

The golden monkey's head snapped back the other, seeing him slightly shake.

Another two were sent up in the sky. He watched the shadow monkey quietly gasp before beginning to whimper, bringing his scarf up to his ears and holding it there. Legs becoming unsteady and slack as he nearly doubled over. The rest of the group being none the wiser of what was happening just a few steps beside them. Gleefully watching the spectacles of light.

In a flash, Sun Wukong pulled Macaque towards him. Pressing him closely to himself so the darker monkey's head layed against his chest. Holding his hand atop the other's in attempt to silence more sound. The darker monkey having squeaked in surprise.

And they stood their quietly, the shadow weaver too bewildered to speak. Wukong being afraid too, there wasn't much he could think to say anyway.

Once the shock subsided, the demon leaned more into the king's warm touch. Wukong resting his head against the others, running fingers through dark fur absentmindedly. And they were content like that, looking up to enjoying the fireworks without any pain.

When the show finally ended, and the others had gone home, the two monkeys walked together in silence

"So.." Macaque started, some way into their walk, them both halting their strides. Nervously chewing at the fabric of his scarf.

He paused, drumming his fingers against his arm. "Why'd you, y'know, back there?" the demon monkey gestured towards his ears, "we aren't exactly..."

Wukong bit his lip, mulling over the question. He hadn't really thought through his actions, he'd just sort of acted...

"I know. You just looked.. really in pain back there and I don't know- I didn't really much think back there," he said "I just wanted to help ease the pain.. at least"

The shadow monkey hummed softly, as though judging the answer and deciding it had fit his standards. The two resuming their walking.

"If you'd known we were going to a festival, why didn't you.. y'know bring something for your ears?" Monkey King asked, mimicking the same gesture the other had done a few minutes earlier.

"Do you not-"

"I have noise cancelling headphones Wukong" the warrior said in a scoff. The golden monkey rolled his eyes, frowning. "Why didn't you bring them then smart ass?" He inquired in an annoyed tone.

Macaque sighed, hiding part of his face in his scarf. Seeming to be a comfort item. The darker monkey didn't answer for a while, choosing to stare at the sidewalk in front of them. The stone monkey sour mood faltering a bit, becoming more concerned again.

"I lost them.." the shadow monkey had eventually said. Wukong stilled, the other doing the same.

"I had been looking for them before I left and couldn't find them," his voice was barely audible "they're usually on my nightstand because I use them to help me sleep but they weren't there." The golden monkey frowned, out of sadness rather than anger this time, his eyes locked on the other.

The king knew how particular his old friend was with personal items, especially ones of importance. So to ask if the demon had placed it in a different location would be stupid.

Macaque huffed tiredly, probably beating himself internally for losing something as Wukong recalled the other monkey doing when they were close. Going over all the places he might not of checked, or even ones he had already checked.

"I considered not coming but before I could text the kid, dragon girl and the Bull prince were at my door" he grumbled "something 'bout 'making sure I didn't bail.'"

"Hopefully I find them when I get home or I won't be sleeping tonight" the shadow weaver groaned, Wukong knowing he was most likely pouting underneath the red fabric.

After another stretch of silence, the shorter monkey turned to look at him as he pulled down the scarf to reveal a smirk. "You're awfully quiet Peaches," Macaque teased "I don't remember you ever being this quiet."

"Did the Great Sage get scared by a ghost?" He taunted further when Wukong hadn't replied.

The sage didn't remove his gaze from the other, causing the demon to nervously chuckle before looking away.

"I never thought I'd say it but quiet Wukong is worse than chatty Wukong" the shadow weaver remarked, uncomfortable by the sudden attention.

The auburn monkey opened his mouth but quickly shut it, eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"Stoic isn't really your brand Peaches-"

"Noise cancelling headphones!" He said suddenly, successfully startling Macaque. After the surprise wore off the other groaned, "why not say it a little louder, I don't think the neighborhood heard you Wukong" the darker monkey said sarcastically.

"Oops." The sage blushed, he didn't mean for it come out that unceremoniously.

The shorter of the two sighed, used to Sun Wukong's antics. "So? Why'd ya shout 'noise cancelling headphones'?" The other asked as he lifted a brow to show his intrigue, "if it's to tease me about losing mine I swear-!" He threatened.

The stone monkey held his hands to either side of his head, "no I- no it's not, I promise."

Macaque looked at him sceptically for a moment, weighing his odds to trust the king's promise before scoffing. "Proceed" giving Wukong a look that said: don't do anything stupid.

He nodded, lowering his arms so they rested at his sides. "I can make you a new pair of headphones," he paused "y'know just for incase you don't find yours or as a backup.."

The other sat stunned, his face not being able to choose between confusion or being weirded out "correction: Wukong being weirdly kind is worse."

"I could also hold onto a back up pair then bring them incase you need them and I'm around, if you don't have yours of course, but I thought you might want a pair for tonight in the chance you can't your ones" he unconsciously rambled, shifting back and forth on his feet. They had halted their walking a bit ago, he wished they were because maybe this conversation wouldn't be so stressful otherwise. But it would be awkward if he started walking without something else being said or done, most definitely rude, more so if Macaque didn't follow after.

"Why are you saying all this Wukong?" The shadow weaver deadpanned, causing the sage to frown. "We're not.." the darker monkey's voice was just above a whisper, stiffly moving his arms to be hugging himself. 'So fragile..' the stone monkey thought sadly.

"I know we aren't.. how we were," he sighed "but I'm doing all this because I wanna show you that I don't hate you."

They stood there, silently staring at eachother in melancholy. Centuries of heartache sitting between where the two monkeys stood. They would dance around it, maybe briefly near it for a quick snide remark before dipping out it, too painful to touch.

"Fine," Macaque said after awhile, turning so Wukong could only see the back of his shoulder and head "just make it quick I wanna go home."

The sage nodded, sharing some of the same sediment. He wanted to go back to the mountain so he could get away from this awkwardness. He also wanted to stay out longer, to indulge in this time alone with his old friend but he feared he may push it if he did. Ruin the little progress they had made.

Wukong lifted is right hand, having his open palm out to the empty space in front of him, his eyes beginning to glow gold as small pieces of light formed around his hand in the same colour.

Soon headphones had appeared in the spot the light had, him catching it before it could fall and hit the ground.

The headphones he'd made looked pretty standard, being mostly black with red accents on the parts that went over the ears.

He handed them over, sheepishly smiling "I'd test them to see if they work.. I've never made headphones before—especially not noise cancelling ones." He scratched at his chin, gulping nervously "it be annoying if you went home, tried to use them and they didn't work."

Macaque took them, inspecting them closely. He chuckled. "Nice to see you avoided your most signature colour when making these, I've never been much for turquoise" the shadow demon teased before sliding them on. He paused, adjusted them slightly before pausing again. After a few seconds, he gave a thumbs on to which the sage sighed in relief.

'They worked!' he cheered in his head.

The shadow weaver slide the headphones off to be around his neck, as the two finally began walking again.

They walked until they reached the end of the street. "This is where we part, you should be getting back.." the darker monkey had stated, the stone monkey simply nodding.

They waved goodbye as they separated. Making the rest of their journey alone

Sun Wukong had gotten home not long after leaving Macaque. Falling into bed after checking around the mountain for dangers, not bothering to change in his sleepwear, sighing. Being swept away by sleep almost instantly.

Macaque had walked into his apartment, rubbing ships boots on mat at the door before taking them off and putting them aside.

He yawned, making his way to his bedroom. He can check for his headphones in the morning, Wukong's will suffice for tonight at the very least.

After changing out of the clothes he'd wore that day, tossing them in the laundry, he flopped down onto the bed on his back. Pulling the headphones over his ears before pausing, feeling something odd brush against his fingertips.

Thinking that Wukong had actually tricked, he took them off and inspected them again.

He chuckled, the sage had put small crescent moons at the center of the ear pieces. Briefly wondering how he'd missed that detail, guessing his hands had covered them before, the shadow demon slides them back on and let his eyes closed as his ears were met with quiet.

'Still full of surprises as always Peaches' as that thought entered his mind, he slowly began to drift off into a slumber until he was fully asleep.

#lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk Pigsy #lmk mei #technically could be seen as shadowpeach #if you squint #but i intended more friendship feels with em than romantic #like exes that are getting along again as friends kinda deal

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