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pedriscroquettes · 6 months ago

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𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✮ K. YILDIZ

summary. an old friend of yours is in need of cheering up and it’s your job to fix him.

warnings. none! except reader is ferdi kadıoğlu’s younger sister and kenan is v sad in this.

gabri speaks! i’ve been seeing so many videos of the hate kenan is getting and just felt like writing this. oops.

THE NOISE OF scattered footsteps on your way to your brother’s room was enough to grab your attention. as you turned the corner in hopes of finding out what was causing such commotion you came across half of the team huddled around one of the rooms. your face instantly filled with confusion wondering what they were doing there and who’s room were they gathering around. were they planning some sort of prank?

“guys what are-” you try to ask but you’re shushed before you have the opportunity to finish your sentence.

“shh!” your own brother scolds you as you stand there bewildered. you quickly smack ferdi on the arm before joining the guys. you had nothing better to do anyways.

“wait, your sister!” bariş yells. “she’s a girl.”

you immediately turned towards him with a face of disbelief wondering what the hell was going on. not to mention your brother’s teammate had decided to just state the obvious and you were beginning to get anxious.

“she’s a girl?” your brother repeated mocking him.

“i meant that she understands feelings better than we do maybe she can help. maybe she can get him to catch his flight. it’ll be even worse for him if he gets in trouble with his club too.” and now you’re wondering who the hell he’s talking about.

“okay, ferdi you better tell me what’s happening before i call mom and tell her about that vase of hers you broke trying to impress sera.” you scold him earning a glare from him.

“it’s kenan.” you freeze at the mention of his name. “he hasn’t left his room since we got back and arda noticed he was reading some of the comments on his post. we think he’s upset but he won’t talk to any of us. he has a flight back to italy in six hours but he hasn’t so much as gotten out of bed. maybe you can help? please?”

it takes a lot of pleading and begging from the players but soon enough you’re carefully opening the door to his room. you’re careful to not trip on anything or cause the slightest little noise in an effort to not bother him. although you conclude that as soon as he realizes you’re in his room he might be bothered. your relationship with him wasn’t the best and the last time the two of you had talked he’d made it clear the two of you would never be friends.

you spot him laid down on his bed with a hoodie covering him. he lays still but you’re quick to notice the rhythmic beating of his chest. he’s either asleep or completely zoned out. either way it’s not good. you notice all of his belonging scattered around the room and his suitcase completely empty meaning he was more than ready to miss his flight. you felt bad.

“kenan…”

you notice his body tense at the sound of your voice but he doesn’t move. he stays still hoping you think he’s asleep, but you know better, you know him better. you had been friends once and although that was left in the past you remembered things. he was clearly upset and not just about the loss there was something more. you manage to catch a glimpse of his phone. it was replaying the same video over and over again and you noticed the comments open. every single one criticizing him. he’d probably spent the last few hours reading all of them. you quickly shut off his phone placing it on the counter, away from him.

“kenan, you need to get up.” you beg him but again he stays still.

you take matters into your own hands and walk towards his side of the bed. you spot his hazel eyes staring away into oblivion. it’s obvious he hasn’t slept at all but before you can reach out to him he rolls over. in any other situation you probably would’ve laughed and playfully smacked him but you weren’t even his friend anymore.

“you can pretend i’m not here but i’m not leaving this room without you.” you scold him.

he budges at that sitting up straight next to you. it’s oddly comforting the way the two of you sit next to each other. you notice he hasn’t taken his hoodie off and recall some of the comments that scolded him for touching it. you wondered if that was the cause of him having his hair hidden. you knew kenan, you knew he was confident, and this? this wasn’t him. you know it’s risky but you place your hands on his trying to break a barrier to make him comfortable. there was a time you’d hold him close and hopefully you could again today to help him. surprisingly he lets you.

“why are you here?” he whispers remaining still.

“ferdi told me that- they’re all worried- we’re all worried about you.” you struggle to say.

“why? i’m fine.” he scoffs.

“no, you’re not-” you’re once again interrupted by his loud voice.

“how would you know? you don’t know me anymore.” he scolds you.

“maybe we’re not friends anymore kenan, maybe we don’t make fun of ferdi’s messages to sera anymore, but i still know you and i know you’re upset.” you rub your thumb on his palm. “i’m here because i still care.”

there’s a brief silence between the two of you almost like an understanding. he knew you cared but he was scared to be vulnerable in front of you. he didn’t want to be hurt in front of you just in case you left again but he can’t keep his feelings in any longer. he’s leaning into you until his head is resting on your thighs. he seeks your comfort once again like he used to before.

“they all hate me.” he whispers. you begin to rub his back at that trying to soothe him. “it’s all my fault.”

“no, kenan it’s not. they’re just upset about the loss and using you as an outlet because all their girlfriends find you hot.” he laughs a little at the comment but you can still spot a little resentment in his voice.

“they’re right though i should’ve played better, i should’ve created more chances, i should’ve scored.” he ranted. “it hurts more because they’re right.”

“okay. you should’ve played better okay that’s fine but laying here and rotting into your bed isn’t. you want to be better? fine, but moping around isn’t going to get you anywhere. you want to prove yourself? let them know that you’re better than that? you need to get on that plane in six hours and become juventus’ greatest young talent.” you try and motivate him.

“what if i can’t?” he chokes out.

“sit up.” you demand and shockingly he does. “look me straight in the eyes.”

you’re careful with your next moves not wanting to invade his personal space so suddenly but you don’t feel that you have a choice. you grab him by the cheeks making sure he’s looking directly at you, making sure he’s attentive to your words, and making sure that he knows you’re on his side.

“hey! do they know you? do they know the sacrifices you put in day in and day out to be where you are today? do they know the pressure you put yourself through to be better? no, but i do. so i know that you can prove yourself to them. kenan, you are a star and you can’t let some silly comments about your hair take that away. you made mistakes so what? we all make them. there’s always a next time. especially for you. you’re one of a kind.” you look into his eyes hoping he absorbed in all of your words. you let go of his face soon after hoping you weren’t too pushy.

“you should be a motivational speaker.” the two of you laugh and that’s when you realize that he’s going to be okay. maybe not right now but he would be.

the two of you spend the next couple of minutes joking about and chatting. the two of you catch up with your lives mentioning future plans and past events. it feels like you have your best friend back with you. the conversation is flowing and secrets are shared once again between the two of you. and with that so are secret glances. as soon as you turned away he found time to admire your face and when he would turn his face another direction you’d do the same. you hardly noticed but his fingers would touch yours every once in a while practically begging to be enveloped by yours.

it’s not until you’re on the way out the door ready to announce to everyone that kenan would be out soon that she stops you. he’s finally taken his hoodie off and you can see him completely. it was comforting to see him like this, all joyful and less upset.

“be there for me.” he blurts out.

“what?” you stare at him dumbfounded.

“when i doubt myself again, when everyone is saying i only care about my looks, when i move leagues, be there for me. i want you there.” he pours all his emotions out for you.

“if you provide with the tickets yeah.” you joke no understanding the depths of his words.

“no, you don’t get it. i don’t want you there every other match. i want you there every match with my jersey. i don’t want you there as old friends or just best friends. i want you there as my person. i need you there as my person.” he confesses. “i let you go before i won’t do it again.”

“kenan…” you can’t finish your sentence because you’re leaning in. his hands are on your waist and yours are on his cheeks again. his hazel eyes bore into yours pleading to give in. your lips are full of fervor as they move against his. you can’t fully comprehend that you’re kissing kenan after all this time but it feels amazing. he tries to deepen the kiss but you stop him.

“kenan wait. i want this i really do but you’re still upset. i don’t want this to cloud your feelings.” you express.

“yeah, okay. you’re right. thank you.” his cheeks are crimson red as you separate from him. “i’ll text you before i head out so i can say goodbye.”

the guys wait anxiously as you slowly walk out of kenan’s room. you manage to hide your emotions as you head towards their large group. ferdi and bariş are dying of anxiety waiting for your words that will let them know what’s wrong with their friend.

“he’ll be out soon don’t worry. it’s probably best if you reassure him of his abilities in football, yeah?” you ask them and they all nod. how sweet.

“so, what’d you do to make him talk?” semih curiously asks you.

“i made out with him.” you say with a straight face. you receive a couple of gasps, some laughs, and a few screams.

“you what?” ferdi asks but you ignore him and begin walking away from him. the rest of the team watches in amusement as you walk away from your older brother. he is genuinely distraught as he chases after you and it’s quite hilarious. “did you actually make out with him? did his lips touch yours? answer me!”

from that the day forward you exchange weekends from istanbul and turin. one weekend with your person and the other with your protective brother. when you walked into kenan’s room the day you didn’t expect to walk out with a soulmate. unfortunately for you your brother is always there to remind you that the only reason you and kenan are together is because he forced you into that room. it’s a shame he’s right but you’re grateful for it because now you have your person and now you can be as annoying as he is with sera.

#soft gabri fic??? who would’ve thought #anyways hope he’s doing ok fr fr #kenan yildiz #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz fic #football fic #football imagine #gabri writes

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occasionalsnippets · 8 days ago

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I need to know more about fd au reader as robin 🙏 /lh

Main concept

Some assorted miscellany.

If you didn’t think Batman was going to get better, you wouldn’t have allowed Tim to become Robin no matter what. You'd reluctantly give Bruce a B- in parenting. He's not perfect but he's trying which is enough that you're willing to help.

You, through gritted teeth: I know and believe you can be good but this is rotten work, especially to me, especially if it's you, but I'll do it.

Your persona as Robin is carefully curated so that you are almost exactly like Tim. It’ll get annoying if people get confused about there being two different Robins running around at the same time so it’s easier if you just pretend to be the same person. You fill in enough times that putting on the Robin uniform automatically makes you slip into “Tim-Robin” mode which freaks a lot of people out at how uncanny it is.

You can perfectly imitate Tim's voice.

Despite your efforts pretending to be as similar to Tim as possible, it’s not totally perfect, obviously. You’re- a bit scary actually. You make the right quips, make the same distractions and appear to be exactly the same as “normal Robin” but it’s just… something is a little bit off. You’re always watching. Maybe you’re just the Robin that takes after Batman’s demeanor the most.

Part of what adds to the whole “hmm something is up with Robin 3” is that sometimes people will be like “I definitely saw Robin break his arm yesterday so how tf is he okay and patrolling today???”

Tim is still a better detective than you are but you’re no slouch either. You did not squint at gritty photos of crime scenes from three different newspapers and reconstruct doll house versions of them with dollar store craft supplies so you could teach 9-year old Tim how to analyze crime scenes just to become a “mediocre detective”.

During the early Robin 3 days, Batman used to accidentally call you and Tim, Jason. He’s also called you Tim on several occasions.

You take the Robin role during Batman’s “bad days” early on in Tim’s run as Robin because you’re able to handle to worst of it. Batman is… relentless, cold, terribly uncooperative on those days. He didn’t want another Robin and you’re well aware of how he lashes out at the two of you because of it. You don’t want Tim to go through the worst of Batman when being Robin is supposed to be something good. What are you meant to do if not protect him?

Wrangling Batman is difficult. You spend way too much time pulling him aside to say “You need to pull back on your punches. If you land them in the ICU again I will be ending this patrol early.” Although just having a Robin beside him makes things better, it doesn’t mean it’s great by any means. Depending on how much he pissed you off, you enact various punishments upon him such as making all his coffee decaf, helping Alfred make his least favourite foods, shutting down the batcomputer so he can’t work on cases and so on.

Overtime, as Batman gets better, you fill in less often. It's also because around this time you get very busy running Drake Industries.

You get on Commissioner Gordon’s case about how many cigarettes he’s smoking. All these Robins and you're the first to look so disappointed in him.

You have gone on patrol several times and no one noticed it was you and not Tim. It’s funnier not to correct them until you de-mask at the end of the night and reveal that it was you all along.

Sometimes you and Tim just swap in the middle of the night.

At the top of a lot of contingencies, there’s a note that just says “if (Y/n) inexplicably has an answer or solution, believe them and follow what they say”

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roseghoul26 · 4 months ago

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Part 1: Honey, Don't Feed It...

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Tags To Be Added Author's Note: happy to finally see hugh jackman getting the appreciation (simping) he deserves Part 1 ❉ Part 2

Frustrated huffs filled the stairwell as Logan ascended to his apartment.

Next was the jingle of keys, and curses that would make a sailor blush. It made him chuckle to himself as he reached his floor, not expecting the creator to be on his floor, attempting to get into the apartment next to his.

He knew someone lived next to him, but he’d never met them. Guess now was a better time than any to make introductions, saying it had been a few weeks since he’d moved in. Your back was to him, piles of groceries in your arms, which was the source of your difficulties as you tried and failed to unlock your door. “Motherfucker…” he heard you grumble, adjusting the groceries that nearly slid out of your arms.

“You need some help with that?”

You, understandably, jumped, the keys that were once in your hands hitting the floor with a thud. The items in your arms were about to meet the same fate, but you managed to get a hold of them just in time, spinning to face Logan. He had stepped closer to you, yet still kept a good amount of distance, not wanting to scare the shit out of you further.

Wary eyes scanned him before recognition flashed across your features, your tense state relaxing as you deemed him not a threat. He took that as the go-ahead to step closer, keeping his stance casual, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Let me help ya,” he repeated, no longer offering it as a question.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do after making it fifty times harder.”

That made you chuckle, a soft noise that made the corners of his lips curl up. “Fair enough,” you took a step back, letting him step into the space beside you to bend down and pick up the keys. “Thank you.”

Waving off your thanks, he thumbed through the various keys on the ring, stopping when he reached one that looked like his. Upon your nod of approval, he stuck it into the door. Tocked turned, but the deadbolt didn’t retract, which elicited a frustrated sigh from you. “It’s been doin’ that for months. If it’s the tiniest bit humid out, or if the universe just fuckin’ hates me that day, it’ll get stuck. You just gotta-” he watched as you jolted your body at the door, a faux shoulder check, “as you turn the key.”

Knowing he would most likely break your door if he bashed his shoulder against it, he opted to just tap it lightly, or at least his version of lightly. It didn’t take a lot of effort for him, the door opening with a creak as the deadbolt finally retracted. With a relieved noise, you entered your apartment, dumping the groceries on the first available surface as Logan pulled the key from the door.

“God, I owe you one,” you exhaled, returning to Logan who stood in the doorway. “Thank you…” you trailed off, an unspoken question.

“Logan.” He stuck out his hand, hating the way he hesitated momentarily, hand flinching back.

If you caught it, he had no idea. A warm smile crept across your face as you took his hand, giving him your own name in return. Your hand was warm, gentle in his grip, soft fingers dragging across his palm as you pulled your hand away. It nearly made him shiver.

Repeating your name, he took this moment to let his eyes wander, to take in your features. He wasn’t blind; you were stunning. The kind of stunning you see out of the corner of your eye, that stops you right in your tracks. The kind of pretty that you remember, that sticks in your mind like a parasite.

You were shorter than him, but that didn’t surprise him; he towered over most people. But he wouldn’t deny that something primal in him loved the fact that he was taller than you. He stopped his mind from wandering further, but the idea warmed his blood, an inaudible inhale pulled through his nose.

And when you grinned, a bashful laugh escaping your lungs at the way he whispered your name, he couldn’t help but smile in return. He felt like a goddamn kid, stumbling in front of his crush like a fool. But he kept a calm face, ignoring the way his heart began to patter in his chest.

“You must be Wade’s new roommate, then.”

That caught his attention. “You talk to him, then?”

“More like he talks at me,” you muttered, making Logan chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“I was just trying to do my laundry in peace, kept talking about multiverses and ‘Void’ and TVA, and then you. Thought he’d gotten into Al’s stash. Again. Guess I was the fool for not believing him,” you gestured to Logan.

“Unfortunately, he was tellin’ the truth.”

You hummed curiously, an inquisitive glint in your eye that he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. You opened your mouth, about to speak, before loud yowling from behind you cut you off, making you turn away from him. It was like he could breathe properly again, without the heat of your gaze.

“Maize,” you admonished, yet with no real bite as you watched the cat that snuck between your legs. It was a brown tabby, on the smaller side, yet with the largest ears he’d ever seen on a cat. In response, the feline let out another yowl, making you shake your head.

“Maize? As in-”

“Corn, yes. I found her in a cornfield, back a few years ago on a road trip. Silly name, I know. Isn’t that right, Maize?”

Maize meowed in response, not even glancing at Logan.

“You’re five minutes late to giving them dinner, and they act like you’re starving them.” You sighed melodramatically.

“Sounds like a roommate.”

“Wade gets on his hands and knees and meows and screams at you until you give him food?” You paused, reconsidering your question. “Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if he does.” He chuckled when you shuddered at the idea. “I’ll take the cat over… that.”

“If I could do the same, I would.”

“I’m sure there’s something you could do to change that. Though I figure he’d find a way to still talk your head off, even without human vocal cords.” Once again, you paused, this time a flicker of self-consciousness flashed across your face. “And here I am, talking your head off. As if you don’t have enough of that at your place.”

Strangely enough, Logan felt disappointed that the conversation was ending, instead of the usual relief he felt. “You’re doin’ nothin’ of the sort. Promise.”

You seemed to believe him, relief replacing self-consciousness, your lips turning into a soft smile. The sight made his stomach flip. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, for earlier. It was nice to finally meet you, Logan.”

Once again, he waved off your thanks. “It was nothin’. I’ll see you around?” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate. He used to be so suave, back when he was younger. He used to have everyone wrapped around his finger, them waiting for his next word with bated breath. Now he second-guessed everything he said, praying that he wasn’t crossing a line. He hated it.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem put off by his question. In fact, a small smile, one softer than all the rest crept up your face, your voice hushed as you responded. “I’ll see you around. Have a good night, Logan.”

He already loved hearing you say his name, even though it didn’t feel worthy to be utter by your lips. You said it like it wasn’t something tainted, scorned, shameful. It was a clean slate, he realized.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t even registered that he’d let the petname slip until after he shut the door, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting every decision he’d ever made. That was until he heard a soft oh being whispered from the other side of the door, and he exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful that he hadn’t royally fucked everything up on the first introduction.

He felt strange as he walked back to his apartment, a weird confidence in his system that he hadn’t felt in years. There was a small smile on his face when he walked in, one that did not go unnoticed by Wade, who was sitting on the couch when he walked in.

He thought he could slip to his room unnoticed. How wrong he was.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” A gasp left him. “Did you finally get laid?”

And just like that, his smile vanished. It was funny, how quickly Wade could do that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he glared at the merc, who looked like a cat who caught the canary.

“You didn’t say no though,” he responded in a sing-song manner. “So, who’s the lucky girl? Or guy? Or person? Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a human, though I would prefer it if you keep the beast-”

“I didn’t get laid,” Logan ran an exasperated hand over his face. “Because you need to know, I met our neighbor,” he gestured with his head to the apartment next door.

Wade said your name, and he nodded in confirmation, something he immediately regretted when a shit-eating smirk appeared on his scarred face. “And they’ve got you smiling like you’ve just gotten the best fucking head in your life.”

“They didn’t-”

“You wished they did, though,” he waggled his non-existent brows, and Logan was silent for a second too long. “Ah, you’ve got a crush, you old sap!”

“You realize how fucking childish that sounds?”

Wade clicked his tongue. “And, once again, your lack of denial is very telling. I can’t blame you though. They’re quite the catch.” A loud wolf whistle cut through the air. “We used to have a thing, back in the day.”

“You… did?”

“Well, it was more of me flirting and asking them out, and them shutting me down every time. But it was romantic.” A dramatic, dreamy sigh escaped Wade before he raised a brow at Logan’s tense stance. “Ooh, did the idea of me touchin’ them upset you? Jealousy is a good look on you, peanut. The green looks good with all that yellow you wear.” He paused. “Or is it possessiveness? You know, a lot of people find that attractive.”

Wade’s ability to take one small thing and blow it out of proportion stunned him. He was truly at a loss for words, but luckily he was talking to the guy who never ran out of them. “So what are you doing here?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Wade sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why aren’t you over at their place, you know-” crude finger motions followed his words, and if he weren’t so used to it, he would’ve been embarrassed. “I’ve been dying to hear them get some action. They’ve gotta be lonely, just them and their cat. They’re a bit young to be going full ‘old crazy cat lady’.”

“And that’s just the reason.” Wade cocked his head to the side. “They’re young. Fuck, I’m old enough to be their dad, at least.”

“And that’s an issue because?” Logan was about to respond but was quickly cut off by the other man. “Look, are they a fully matured, consenting adult?”

He didn’t know your age, but if he had to guess, you were somewhere in your mid-twenties. So, he nodded to Wade’s question.

“Do you hold authority over them? Are you their teacher, their boss, fuckin’ parole officer?”

He nodded no, furrowing his brows.

“Did they seem put off by you, uncomfortable in any way? Reaching for weapons, looking for ways to escape, threatening you?”

“Is that from experience?”

“Just answer the question,” he responded through a forced smile, teeth gritted.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Ding ding ding!” Wade chirped, the furrow between Logan’s brow deepening at the noise. “You’ve passed my ‘Am I A Pervert?’ test with flying colors! I’m fresh out of gold stars, though. But you are clear to go get ‘em!”

“I think we’re gettin’ a bit ahead of ourselves,” Logan backtracked. “I’ve just met them.”

“And whose fault is that, you reclusive fuck?” Yet again, he wasn’t given a chance to respond. “Now’s the chance to talk to them! And then-” crude fingers once again were demonstrated by the other man.

He walked away at this point, shaking his head at Wade’s “advice”. Guilt ate away at him for thinking and talking about you the way they had; he had to put an end to it. You deserved far better, anyway.

Yet he found his traitorous mind still wandering to you for the rest of the night, a feeling of longing that he hadn’t felt in so long.

He was fucked.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He had a job now, working in construction in the city. It had been some time since he’d had a “normal” job, but he liked the structure of it. The purpose it brought. And sure, his other skills were used from time to time, but there weren’t any world-ending threats that needed to be taken care of right now. For right now, he got to pretend that he was just Logan.

Because of his job, it meant that he was out the door before the sun rose, and back home late, different from the 9-to-5 schedule that most other people followed. Up until now, he loved it; he didn’t have to see people as he walked down the hallway, traffic wasn’t busy, and he got to just keep his head down and walk.

He hated it now. It was ridiculous, the way his eyes now wandered to your door as he passed it, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. It had been about five days since your initial introduction, and he’d yet to run into you again.

It was another late night as he climbed up the apartment complex’s stairs. If he was any other man, his muscles would've ached from a hard day’s work, but the only exhaustion he could feel was in his mind; it was tiring, getting ordered around all day.

As he reached his floor, the jingling of keys caught his attention, and he was unable to hide the smile on his face when he heard your voice. Making sure his boots stopped against the stairs, he rounded the bend and was met with the sight of you once again trying to get into your apartment, your hands free of any groceries this time.

“You really ought to get that lock replaced.”

He didn’t scare you this time, thankfully. “I’ve put in a request, but that was at least a month ago,” you sighed.

“I could replace it for you.” It slipped out so easily, not even having to think about offering you his help.

You blinked at him, clearly not expecting it. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m offering.”

He watched as you tried the lock again but to no avail. It seemed to finalize your decision, a heavy sigh leaving you. “You really would? I�� I’ll pay you back. For the new lock.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got it covered.”

Instead of simply hearing your reaction, he got to see the way your eyes widened and then ducked down to avoid his glance. You bit back a smile, though he could still see the corners of your lips curl up, your attempt unsuccessful. “Then at least let me make you dinner, or something,” you countered.

He could hear the warning bells going off in his mind. He was getting too close; you deserved far better than an old mutant like him. Not to mention the fact that you were still so young. But he was already caught up in the idea of spending some time alone with you, and his heart answered before his mind could. Besides, this wasn’t going to be romantic. He could just be friends with you. Right? “It’s a deal, then.”

He wasn’t expecting you to stick out your hand, but he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself a chance to feel you again. “It’s a deal,” you agreed as he shook your hand. You were still so gentle, barely squeezing his hand; it had been so long since he’d been treated that way. “Say, you wanna get me into my apartment?” You asked, and he pulled his hand away as you presented your keys with your hand. They jingled as you wiggled them, and he caught a glimpse of a small cat keychain. Cute.

My apartment is always open, is what he would've said if he, A, lived alone, and B, not still worried about crossing a line. Instead, he kept his mouth shut as he grabbed the keys, playfully rolling his eyes as it was the most laborious task he’d ever been asked to do. That made you giggle, a soft “Thank you, Logan,” being uttered. Screw his job; this made him feel of use, purposeful. Even if it was to just get your door open. He almost wished he didn’t offer to fix the lock, just so that you’d come to him whenever you needed to get in.

Just like the first time, it only took a light tap from his shoulder as he turned the key for the door to open. “You make it look so easy.” Your eyes ran over his body, across the broad expanse of his shoulders, down his muscular arms, to his forearms that peeked out from beneath his flannel. It was subtle, but your eyes widened a fraction, a reaction that really shouldn’t have made him feel as good as it did.

He just shrugged, pretending like your not-so-subtle ogling didn’t get his heart hammering. Holding the door open, you ducked beneath his outstretched arm, pulling the keys from the door as you did. “I’ll come and fix it tomorrow.”

Your widened eyes narrowed; he realized you’d momentarily forgotten about his offer, too distracted by him. God, you weren’t even doing anything on purpose, and you’ve got him losing his mind. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He could tell you were sincere, a dazzling smile on your face. “See you soon, Logan.”

Your smile was the last thing he saw before he shut the door behind you.

To say he was distracted at work the next day would be an understatement.

He was a grown-ass man, yet he was as excited as a kid on Christmas when he walked home, stopping by a store to pick up the new deadbolt lock. But beyond the excitement, he could feel his nerves, buzzing and alight after years of dormancy. He then had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date; this was purely platonic. He was just being a good neighbor. Still, that didn’t stop the small shake in his hand as he raised it and knocked on your door.

For a moment, he worried that you weren’t home after about a minute passed without a response. But just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, and you stood looking a bit disheveled on the other side. “Sorry,” you panted, “had to wrangle Maize into my bedroom. Don’t want her dashing out while the door’s open.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

With that, you stepped back into your apartment, wordlessly letting Logan in. Stepping in, he glanced around at the new surroundings, at the space you called yours. Blankets and pillows adorned the couch in the living room on the right, and your kitchen on the left. He saw a pot on the stove and could hear the rapid popping of bubbles as the water in it boiled. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, something that made his stomach rumble.

“Do you wanna eat before or after?”

Ah, the lock. Glancing at the plastic bag in his hand, as well as a few tools he’d grabbed, he shrugged. “It shouldn’t take me too long. Ten minutes, max.”

“That’s how long the pasta needs to cook for, so after, then.” You paused a flicker of disbelief on your face. “Only ten minutes?”

“Yeah, about. Why?”

You shook your head, chuckling softly. “You’d think with the way they ignored my request that it would've taken fifty years, but it’s that quick?” Shaking your head again, you turned into the kitchen, your back now to Logan. He took this time to glance around your place, your decorations, the pictures you had framed on the wall. “Thank you, again.”

He was getting distracted. “You don’t gotta keep thanking me, sweetheart,” he responded, making his way to the door and opening it. The sound of splashing water hit his ears as you added the water, slightly louder than what would’ve been expected. It was as if your hands slipped as you poured the pasta.

He got to work, then, easily able to unscrew and remove the faulty deadbolt lock, setting it aside to be discarded later. He was just about to start installing the new one when he heard you drag out a chair and sit in it, presumably at the table in the kitchen as you waited for the pasta to cook. He could feel your eyes on him, but he found that he didn’t mind. Not at all.

About of minute of silence passed, the sound of bubbling water filling the air. “You replace a lot of locks?”

“Not a frequent pastime of mine, no. But I’m good with my hands.”

He caught the double meaning too late, grateful that his back was turned so that you couldn’t see his reaction. But that meant he couldn’t see yours, a cruel price to pay. He knew that if he concentrated, he could’ve used his enhanced senses to know, yet something about that made him feel dirty.

“You a handyman, then?” He swore your voice was airier than it was before, but maybe he was being delusional.

“Close. Construction.”

“That explains it…”

“Explains what?”

“Your… muscles. It makes sense, then.”

He realized then that you probably had no idea who he was. Who he truly was. He was unsure if a version of him lived on this Earth, and if that version had been a mutant like him. Or maybe they were just a regular human, woven into the thread of society, instead of sticking out like a frayed string. In response to you, he just grunted noncommittally.

“You’re not just a construction worker, are you?”

He stilled, damn near dropping his screwdriver.

“No offense to construction workers, but I don’t think Wade would’ve dragged one around on his ‘adventure’ if there wasn’t something else to them.”

He turned his head to look at you now and was met with your back as you stirred the pot. But upon his extended silence, you too turned a frown on your lips. “Sorry, that was too much. I- I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

The thing was, he wanted to answer you, something he’d never wanted to do before. There was nothing he hated more than questions, but when they came from you, he found that he didn’t mind them. Yet he had no clue how you would react to the truth, and he’d be pissed at himself if he scared you off. “You’re not… wrong,” he began. “I…”

“You don’t have to answer me now. Or ever. But, I should have you know, it probably won’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard. There’s been a lot of crazy shit the last ten years, let’s just say.”

Grateful for the topic change, he resumed screwing the new lock into place. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

You weren’t kidding. The next couple of minutes were filled with you telling him about the various takeovers and attacks on the city and across the world. There was Loki, Ultron, and then something called “The Blip”, just to name a few. “Maybe that explains the cheap rent.”

By this time, he had installed the new lock, making his way to the kitchen. It caught him off guard, how domestic it felt, a deep pining for a life he’d never had, and would never have. It was nice to imagine, though. It had only been about seven minutes, beating the food’s timer. The jangling of keys caught your attention, turning away from the stove to glance at Logan. “Done already?”

He nodded, holding out your new keys. “Go ‘head and try it.”

The smile on your face was infectious as he dropped the keys into your outstretched palm. When you closed the door, he locked it, and even though he trusted his work, he was still relieved to hear the smooth click as the deadbolt retracted, without you having to slam your shoulder in the door.

Your giddy laughter is what he heard when you came back in, and knowing he was the cause of it made his pride swell. “God, I know you don’t want me to say it again, but thank you. Go on, sit,” you gestured to the table, “You’ve done more than enough for me today.”

The yowling of a cat cut into the conversation, followed by the scratching of wood as Maize pawed at the bedroom door. “Should probably let her out now. Don’t want her to tear apart my stuff,” you muttered to yourself, about to step away to do so.

“I’ve got it.”

“Logan-”

“I’ve got it,” he repeated, not leaving any room for argument.

You conceded rather quickly, a huff of air leaving you. “Alright. It’s the first door on the left,” you pointed down to the small hallway. “Th-”

A brow raise from him was all it took to get you to stop your unnecessary thanks, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Shaking his head with a small laugh, he followed your directions, opening up your bedroom.

Immediately, the small brown tabby stuck her head out the door, hesitating when she realized it wasn’t her owner on the other side. A small, pink nose sniffed, large ears flicked back as she took in the unfamiliar scent, her hackles raising slightly.

Bending down, Logan offered a hand to the feline, who inspected it with weary eyes. But when he didn’t make a move, Maize relaxed some, extending her head so that she could sniff his hand. After a few moments, her ears flicked back up, hackles lowered, and he took that as the go-ahead to pet her.

Maize let him pet her for all of ten seconds, before scampering out the door and disappearing to somewhere in the apartment. “Are you a cat person, Logan?” He heard you ask as he made his way back to the kitchen. The pasta, spaghetti, he now saw, had been drained, and you were currently dishing up servings for both of you.

Finally sitting, he flashed you a grateful smile when you set a plate down in front of him, but no matter how badly his hungry stomach wanted to, he didn’t dig in yet. “Not particularly. But I don’t mind ‘em.”

With a hum that made it seem like you didn’t quite believe his indifference, you quickly finished setting the table, setting your own plate opposite of his. “You want something to drink? I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of variety, I… I don’t get a lot of guests.”

It was at that moment Wade’s words came trickling back into his mind. You lived alone, that much was clear, but it seemed there wasn’t anyone sharing your company. It sparked a bit of hope in his chest, something he immediately stomped out. This didn’t mean anything, as much as he wanted it to.

“You got whiskey?”

He expected the shake of your head. “I’ve got a bottle of red wine that’s covered in cobwebs. Can’t guarantee it’s anything spectacular.”

“If that’s what you’re having, then I’ll take it too.”

Before long, two glasses of wine joined the plates, and you were about to seat yourself before Logan stood, pulling out your chair. He hadn’t lost all of his manners, it seemed. Your wide eyes crinkled as you smiled, not expecting him to help you in, but letting him do so nonetheless.

A comfortable silence fell over you two as you began to eat, something that was broken by an appreciative noise from Logan. You paused mid-bite, your expression unreadable. “Is it good?”

“Delicious,” he responded. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper meal like this?”

A flicker of relief flashed across your face. “You don’t cook much?”

“Fuckin’ terrible at it. Don’t have much time for it, anyway.”

“Well, I always make too much, so if you’re ever hungry…”

How could he tell you there was a different hunger festering in his gut, something that only you could satiate? “You’re spoiling me,” is what he said instead. “I might just have to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

The rest of dinner was filled with comfortable chatter, questions being asked on both sides. He learned more about you, your job, where you went to school, where you grew up. And with every sentence that left your lips, he found that little “crush”, as Wade called it, sinking its claws deeper into his heart, sharper than the ones in his hands.

You were so animated when you talked, your eyes lighting up when Logan implored further like you couldn’t really believe that he cared. You were interesting, yet in a normal person's way. It had been so long since he simply talked with someone who wasn’t like him, who wasn’t enhanced, mutated, whatever. He found he rather enjoyed it, and not just because it was you, although that part did help significantly.

The conversation continued even after the plates were empty and the wine drunk. He found it so easy to talk to you. There weren’t any expectations, any judgments, nothing like that. You were innocently curious, with no ulterior motive behind your questions. You just wanted to get to know him. He was fully prepared for you to ask more about him not just being a construction worker, but you never asked. He couldn’t tell if it relieved him.

He also couldn’t tell if you wanted more.

Sure, your eyes wandered as he spoke, running over his exposed skin, where his flannel and shirt didn’t cover. And when he did eventually shrug off his top layer, resting in on the chair back behind him, he watched as your eyes jumped to his arms, trying your damnest to be subtle.

But he just wasn’t sure. Would you recoil if he were to brush against your fingers, where your hand sat outstretched on the table? Would you be uncomfortable, disgusted, if he were to cross that line? Would this whole thing crash and burn before it even left the ground? Was this even a thing?

So he kept his desire locked tight, some of it escaping in small compliments and light, teasing remarks. And he spent the rest of the night wondering what if.

But eventually, like all good things, the night had to end. He hadn’t even realized how late it was until you yawned, stretching back on the couch the two of you had migrated to. You sat on one end, Logan on the other, a full cushion’s distance between you, which was occupied by a cat. You rested your back against the armrest, knees tucked up into your chest, reaching down to mindlessly pet Maize.

Glancing over at the clock on the stove, he cursed. “Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it was.” He wasn’t kidding, having gotten so caught up talking with you. To him, it only felt like an hour had passed, at most.

But he now saw the way your eyes drooped, though there was still a small smile on your face, one that hadn’t really faltered the entire night. “It’s alright. I didn’t either,” you chuckled, leaning back as you stretched. He had to force his eyes to your face so that he didn’t watch the way your shirt rode up. “God, I haven’t talked that long in… years.”

“Me neither. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten fuckin’ sick of the sound of my voice.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s possible. You… never mind.” The way your eyes widened, he realized you were about to say more than you intended.

Well, now he was curious. And the tiniest bit hopeful. “You…?”

You weren’t looking at him anymore, staring holes into your cat. “You have a nice voice,” you whispered, barely audible.

Logan has heard enough pick-up lines, enough flirtatious remarks to fill up a book, yet none of them got his body warming like your simple compliment. Sure, you weren’t confident in your delivery, but it was honest, not just said to get him in your bed. “You think so?” He hadn’t meant to pitch his voice lower, but he knew you weren’t complaining.

You had lifted your head more upon not hearing his rejection of your compliment, and he watched as your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nervous. “Yeah,” your voice was breathy, but he couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or desire.

He wanted to touch you. He craved it more than any cigar, any drink. His fingers twitched from where his arm sat slung over the back of the couch, and he watched as your eyes flicked to them. But he didn’t move, no matter how badly he wanted to. The ball was in your court now.

“I-I should probably let you get home.”

He tried to not feel the sting of rejection. You probably should, before something happens that you’ll regret. “Yeah, okay.” With a tense smile, he eased himself up from the couch, you following behind him, the cat by your feet now glaring angrily at you for disturbing her rest.

Picking up his flannel from the dining chair, he felt your eyes on him as he moved, everything about your demeanor now uncertain. But he didn’t push it; you made your choice for tonight, and he’d never force you to choose otherwise, no matter how much he wished you would.

It was when he stood in your doorway that he finally turned to face you. “Thank you, for dinner,” he smiled, this one less forced. “And for the company.”

“I should be the one thanking you, but I know you’d just tell me I’ve thanked you enough,” you chuckled, some of the tension dissipating. “I… I had a good time tonight.”

“I wasn’t kidding, earlier. I’d like… you’re welcome over, anytime. For whatever reason.”

And just like that, that little flicker of hope that he’d held the entire night reignited. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That made you grin. “Good. I’m home pretty much every night, so don’t be afraid to knock. I’ll see you later, Logan.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He liked the way you ducked your head when you were a bit embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

It was nearly midnight when he arrived home, getting the shit scared out of him when Wade sat up, Frankenstein-style, from the couch. “Fuck,” he grumbled, retracting his claws back into his hand, though he considered slashing into the other man for startling him. The only thing that held him back was that he didn’t want to have to clean the blood out from the couch. Again.

“Earth to Logan,” Wade knocked against his own head. “Anyone home?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dignify him with a response. Wade, of course, didn’t like that, jumping from the couch and cutting Logan off as he tried to head to his room. “What’s got you so distracted?” Wade continued. “Maybe a certain… neighbor?”

He really needed to get better at not hesitating before he responded, Wade’s eyes widening as Logan’s lack of response answered yet another question. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” An almost victorious laugh left him, punching Logan in the shoulder. He didn’t budge, a scowl appearing on his face, which was almost like a second skin.

Despite what an outsider might think, Logan didn’t hate Wade. He would never admit it, but he rather enjoyed the eccentric man’s company; he was opposite to him in so many ways, offering a new perspective. He’s talked about many a subject with Wade, and never once had there been a topic that he didn’t want Wade’s input on.

Until now.

He couldn’t stand the fact that Wade was talking about you, talking about his “relationship” with you. Maybe Wade was right. Maybe he was possessive. But for once in his life, he wanted something that was just his. He wanted to create something without the help of others, something without outside influence.

But he was never good with his words. And he was certain that Wade would never let it go if he tried to explain why he hated hearing your name leave his mouth. So he just grumbled a familiar, “Fuck off,” hoping Wade got the message.

Wade, as he should’ve expected, didn’t get it. Or he just chose to ignore the warning in his voice. Either way, Wade continued on like Logan hadn’t uttered a word. “You were over at their place, weren’t you?”

There were some days he swore that Wade could read his mind. “I was fixing their door,” was what he finally muttered, indirectly agreeing to his question.

“And that took,” Wade glanced down at his wrist, which was notably absent of any watch, “Almost five hours? Didn’t realize rearranging their-”

“For the love of- there was none of that. I fixed their door, they made me dinner, and then we talked.” He didn’t dare mention that he had been on your couch, your compliment still ringing in his ears.

“Talked?”

“Yes.” A scoff from Wade made him scowl. “What?”

“Did you lose your balls in the Void? You didn’t make a single move? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“It wasn’t like that. They don’t-”

“Oh, but they do. God, I forgot all your stats were put into strength, you dense fucker. People don’t spend hours talking to someone they're not interested in. And they don’t just make dinner for anyone.” He paused. “What did they make, anyway?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Pasta.”

“With wine?”

A singular nod.

It nearly startled him, the bark of laughter that left Wade. “Oh, my sweet summer child,” two scarred hands now rested on Logan’s cheeks, and he was too confused to brush them off. “They wanna fuck you.”

That snapped Logan out of his confused daze, slapping Wade’s hands away with more force than was necessary. It wasn’t like he could do lasting damage, anyway. “Those have no correlation, you dumbass.”

“Uh, have you ever seen The Lady and the Tramp? You know, the one with the two dogs, and then the spaghetti, and then they fu-”

“I don’t think that’s how the movie goes-”

Wade waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is that they made, like, the most romantic dinner for you, and you didn’t think that they wanted you?”

This was another reason why he shouldn’t talk to Wade about this; he was getting his hopes up. With a huff, he shoved past Wade, who, thankfully, let him go. At least, only a few feet.

“Did they invite you back?”

He debated ignoring him, but the serious tone Wade had taken intrigued him. “Yeah, whenever I want.”

“And do you plan on it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t lose this. Don’t lose them. You… you’ll regret it.” There was a pause, the fresh familiarity to Wade’s words made him stumble. But just as that sincerity appeared, it vanished, Wade clapping his hands together. “Well, I’ll be sure to steer clear of your door tonight, while you work out your… frustrations. Sweet dream, peanut.”

Logan just grumbled something in response, failing to see the small, rare frown that pulled at Wade’s lips, and failing to notice the way his words had fallen flat, how forced they’d seemed. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, the events of the night playing on repeat in his mind.

He doesn’t even remember getting ready for bed that night. He was suddenly in his bed, which felt colder than it had ever felt before, too large for his body alone. And his mind would shut up, no matter how much he pleaded with it to be silent.

Was Wade right? Had you wanted more? Do you still want more? Or had his cowardice driven you to believe that he wasn’t interested? If he knocked on your door right now and explained himself, would you let him in, or slam the door back on his face? If he had made a move, would things have played out differently? Would he have not spent the night alone, then?

Not only were questions bouncing around freely, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How sweet you’d been, almost sickly, enough to make his teeth rot. Your gentle smile, the one that made fucking butterflies erupt in his stomach. Your laugh, fuck, your laugh was addicting. And it was even more so when he was the one who caused it.

Wade was wrong. His mind didn’t wander to improper images conjured up by a lustful mind, even though he expected him to. No, the images that repeated in his mind were completely innocent, yet the tension building in his abdomen, the tightening of his pants told another story. You hadn’t even done anything to elicit this kind of reaction, yet here he was, like a horny fucking teenager. He felt pathetic, honestly.

It would be so easy, to sneak a hand down, to pretend like his hand was yours, and relieve that ache. But as soon as he began to inch his fingers downward, guilt hit him like a goddamn train. He’d never be able to look you in the eye if he fucked his fist to the thought of you. It was wrong, to say the least. He barely knew you, and no matter how much his heart wanted to believe that you wanted him, he still didn’t know.

Clenching his hands so hard that his nails tore into the flesh of his palm, he flipped over in his bed with a pained noise, but not because of the self-inflicted injury. Longing cut deeper than any wound that had ever torn his body, and guilt was the salt to it.

He didn’t sleep well that night.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader

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4dbarbie-archive · 3 months ago

Text

4dbarbie remix: Give up and Be Free

Hello! It's been a while since my last remix. I felt spontaneously inspired to make this based on my most favourite 4dbarbie asks. This one's a bit different as this time I got help from AI so they did a lot of the legwork and I made edits as I saw fit, it definitely cut down on the amount of time it takes to make a remix! I asked them to write it in a conversational tone like a friendly guru talking to me so some of the wording has been changed (which can sometimes be helpful in understanding the message in a new way) so it's not entirely 4dbarbie's words verbatim but the message remains the same (feel free to check out the source texts if you wish!). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: This is based on 4dbarbie's guide to a new identity but you can do it with I AM in mind instead (replacing paragraph 6) for self-realization

My highlight colour key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red

Source texts: 1, 2, 3, 4 Recommended reading: 1, 2, 3, 4

Welcome, my friend. Let me guide you through something deeply transformative, yet so simple it might surprise you. First and foremost, you need to get to a place within where the person you’re identified with no longer bothers you. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. It’s not about force or willpower—it’s more of a surrender, or as I prefer to call it, a giving up. Yes, giving up. Because even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. Even if this feels like misery at first, accept it. Just sit with it. Only when you no longer fear things staying the same, when you cease caring, does true change begin.

You see, I didn’t fake being unaffected. I simply allowed things to happen to “me”. Painful, pleasant, it didn’t matter. I didn’t try to change anything. I let go of the exhausting loop of desire and fear, like finally putting down a heavy load. The emotions still came, but I didn’t involve myself with them. They didn’t interest me anymore, I became indifferent and neutral to whatever was happening. If I got what I wanted, fine. If I didn’t, fine again. Events passed by like clouds—leaving no imprint, no reverberation. In time, it was like they never existed at all.

And here’s the beautiful part—you’ll begin to toy with this idea: “What if none of this ever really existed in the way I thought?” It’s playful and not serious because you've stopped caring. You’ve stopped chasing “realization”, stopped chasing anything. There's no more trying, no more effort. You no longer want or need anything. And in place of needing nothing, you find something you never expected: power. Not power over things, but power in yourself, in your complete detachment from the world. When you reach this point, everything else becomes secondary.

So how do you walk this path? Start by giving up. Give up the idea that you can control anything. You can do nothing about life but cease caring and let it happen. Do not try to understand anymore; simply be. Let everything be as it is. Let life happen. After all, we all die one day, and it’ll all be over anyway. Why exhaust yourself worrying, fearing, striving or desiring? It’s like fighting an ocean tide—you’re just tiring yourself out. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Instead, step back and let the waves wash over you, let life happen as it happens. Life will flow as it will, and you no longer push or pull at it.

Expect nothing. Not from your body, not from your mind, not from the world. Let them be as they will. If life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. It’s like facing a bully—when you stop reacting, when you stop caring, they lose interest. Sure, maybe they’ll hit harder for a while, but you’ve already surrendered. What more can they do? The same goes for life—stop caring what happens and you’ll find it starts losing its power over you.

Now that you’ve freed yourself from expectations, give yourself everything. Live completely in the moment, forget about a past, don't think about a future. Be here, fully, now. All the good things you used to think about others, think about yourself. In each moment, ask yourself “What if there’s nothing outside of me? What would I think and feel right now?”. Let go of caring what life does with it, just do it. You’re not doing it for some future result; you’re doing it because it feels true to you; to be free and be exactly what you want to be in the moment. Whether tomorrow repeats itself or brings something new, so what? You no longer depend on anything external to feel fulfilled. You keep to yourself and continue thinking what you want, continue being who you want to be. If life follows along, let it. If it doesn’t, let it not. Hold steady to what feels right within you, and allow your thoughts to shape what's real to you.

Finally, remember to forget. The past? Gone. What you see before you? Just a shadow of what was. Now, here’s the key: Want nothing. Do nothing. Don’t chase, don’t seek—just let yourself be. This doesn’t mean you stop living or acting; it simply means you stop the endless striving, the relentless push to try make life bend to your will. Instead, just watch what happens. And most importantly, don’t attach any meaning to it. Be a witness, a quiet observer of the flow of life. Whatever happens, good or bad, is just passing through—you have nothing to do with it. It’s not permanent, nothing is. So why believe in it as though it were immovable? Cease caring and be free!

Let the world dance as it may, but you—remain still within. Watch as the transient nature of everything becomes clearer. You’ll see that the world outside is nothing more than a reflection of the thoughts you no longer hold, and that what you once took to be reality soon ceases to be when you take away your identification.

#remix #4dbarbie #nonduality #non duality #nondualism #non dualism

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literaila · 10 months ago

Note

Ok but like i would love to see megumi tsumiki and reader reacting to gojo getting an undercut in your writing style

“what is that?”

satoru has only walked through the door, slipping off his shoes and trying to pretend like he didn’t know that you were all waiting for him.

so what if he was a bit elusive about his whereabouts? it’s supposed to be a surprise.

but you’re standing by the door, with your arms crossed. your face is almost pained.

satoru can’t help but laugh. “no, hello?”

“satoru,” you whine, going to inspect him. “why didn’t you say anything?”

tsumiki creeps up behind you, wanting to see what you’re complaining about. her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of him, then her mouth curls.

“you got a haircut!”

“yup,” satoru pops, walking over to the two of you. he places a kiss on your forehead, ignoring your distraught face. “how do i look?”

“can i feel?” tsumiki asks, leaning up on her tiptoes to reach towards his head.

he leans down to accommodate her, grinning when she giggles at the feeling of his freshly shaved head. “it’s prickly.”

satoru wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug.

“a lot lighter too. what do you think, miki?”

“it’s pretty,” she’s still rubbing at his head, but satoru ignores the ticklish feeling. “are you going to keep it like this?”

“we’ll see,” satoru hums, looking to you. you’re still standing there, displeased.

tsumiki giggles and steps away, running back into the living room to continue doing whatever she was before he got home.

you don’t say anything, just stare at his head.

“do you like it?” he asks, leaning down until he’s inches away from you.

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“it’s a surprise. i was already out and i’ve been thinking about it…” his nose nudges yours but you don’t move. you’re basically a statue, just barely blinking at him. “and i didn’t think you were going to cry about my hair so—“

“i’m not crying.”

“are you sure?” satoru asks, leaning back with a pout. his hand lingers above your face, just brushing against your cheek. “look at those pretty eyes. already red.”

you slap it away. “i’m not crying over your hair. if i were crying,” you say, “which i’m not, it would be because of how ugly you are.”

“that’s just untrue.”

but satoru still pouts, his hand unconsciously going to rub at the bare skin by his nape. it’s a bit cold now.

you sigh. “why did you have to mess with your hair?”

“i didn’t realize it was my only appeal.”

you roll your eyes. “i just wished you’d have warned me. i expected a normal gojo to walk through the door—not a half bald one.”

“it’ll look the same when i take the blindfold off,” he argues. “and it’s not that much hair.”

“i can see your weird shaped head now,” your hand finally reaches up, grazing against his as you touch it. “why is it so soft?” you whisper, mostly to yourself.

satoru pouts again, though almost purring at the feeling of your hand. “so you don’t like it?”

you frown. then you ruffle the hair at the top of his head, still long as always.

“it’ll look the same with your glasses on?”

satoru rolls his eyes, despite himself, but nods.

“fine.”

“this is not the reaction i was expecting.”

you drop your hand, crossing your arms again. “and just what were you expecting?”

“oh, satoru, you’re so pretty,” he mocks, doing a terrible impression of your voice. “please send me a picture of your headshot. then sign it.”

you flick his forehead. “you don’t have a headshot, weirdo.”

satoru grins and pulls you in by your waist. it takes little effort and you don’t argue. “well, i’d take one if you asked.”

you roll your eyes again.

this then, satoru puts all his effort into his pout, frowning very seriously. “i didn’t think you’d be upset.”

“i just like your hair.”

“oh, it’s ruined now? you only care about my looks?”

you shrug. “probably. i mean, it’s not like your personality is doing anything.”

satoru scoffs, and you smile for the first time since he got home. “kidding,” you whisper, and kiss the bottom of his chin.

“i’ll never wear the blindfold around you, if you want.”

you sigh. “no. you’ll whine about it, and i’ll know anyway.”

“wow. you’re so supportive of me.”

“aren’t i?”

satoru shakes his head, but he smiles despite himself. you’ve never been the type to fond over him, or one to relent. honestly, he knows that just the fact that you’re letting him hold you is a good sign.

eventually, you shake your head at him. “i’ll get used to it, i guess.”

“oh great.”

“how long will it take to grow out?” you wonder, and you’re fully teasing now.

but before satoru can answer—with an appropriate snarky comment—megumi walks around the corner, holding a book in his hands.

“what’re you guys doing?” he asks, trying to look behind satoru to see if someone’s there.

“megumi,” satoru tilts his head at the boy. “do you like my hair?”

megumi gives him a once over, then frowns. “freak,” he mutters, and walks away.

and then later on you can’t stop staring at him because, um, wow. satoru will laugh at you once he realizes that your eyes are practically attached to him, making sure to mess with his hair every available second.

it’s the least he can do.

#in case it was unclear reader hates change in all forms #this is it for tonight but tomorrow there will be better things #a typical family #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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0mg-bird · 4 months ago

Text

Sister’s Mister ~ B. Bradshaw x Seresin Sister Reader

Summary: When Jake’s little sister pays a visit, Bradley gets himself into a sneaky situation where he might want to be the sister’s mister.

Warning: 18+ content ahead, language.

A/n: Very Nickelback coded, argue with the wall.

There was a feeling of uncertainty among the men in the locker room as they showered and cleaned up. Jake left early to pick up a package, that package being his dearest little sister. You.

“He’s bringing her to Payback’s birthday party.” Fanboy states and he pulls a clean shirt on.

The rest groan, asking Payback why he’s allowing it. He just shrugs. “Dude, I felt bad, alright? She’s coming to stay for a month, I don’t want to start off on a bad foot.”

Bob, who was currently pulling his civilian shoes on, shook his head. “Hangman’s enough, what are we gonna do when a second him is going to be hangin’ around?”

They moan about that, all making claims about what you must be like. Things like spoiled, arrogant, and self centered all came up.

Bradley runs his hands through his hair a few times. “Which sister is this anyway? He’s got about five of them.” He asks.

“Big families are common in the south.” Bob reminds.

Coyote is there to answer his question. “I think it’s the one born after him? They’re the closest ones out of the seven kids.”

“Seven!” They all exclaim, cursing with wide eyes.

Bradley shuts his locker. “Six siblings might be the reason Hangman’s a head case.” He claims, making the others laugh.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the sisters not the same way.” Omaha chuckles.

At the airport, you look for the tall head of blonde hair that is your brother. Suitcase rolling along behind you, you pass security and immediately see him.

Jake leans against a pillar, looking rather bored until he sees you approaching. Then, he’s walking to you with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d accidentally board a flight to Mexico instead.” He teases as you hug him.

“Oh c’mon now, don’t act like you haven’t missed me.” You smile, air getting squeezed out of your lungs as his strong arms grip you.

He pulls away and takes your suitcase and backpack. “Hard to miss someone whose face is plastered on magazine issues. But it’s good to see ‘ya, sis.”

The two of you leave to get a bite to eat, then Jake drops you off at the small house you rented.

“We’re going to my buddies birthday party tomorrow night.” He tells you as he checks the place.

You roll your eyes at his effort to make sure no crazy people are hiding behind the curtains, then open up your backpack to unpack some things.

“Which buddy is this?” You question.

“Just someone on my squad.” Jake explains.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Yay, a barbecue in the park.”

Jake glares at your fake enthusiasm. “It’s not a barbecue, and I feel personally victimized by that stereotypical statement.”

“Ooh, Jakey’s using big words.” You fake gasp.

He isn’t amused.

“We’re going to a club, okay? You know all about those, huh?” He teases, making your brows furrow.

“Is that what you think I do all day? Go to clubs with rich people?” You ask, to which he shrugs and nods. You scoff. “I do have an actual job, I just happen to know how to party.”

Jake sits at the kitchen counter. “So do we. Look, it’ll be fun and you can meet the crew.” He says, making you give in.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

He hums. “You never had a choice but I appreciate your cooperation.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my house, Seresin.”

“Where’s Hangman?” Phoenix asks as she greets everyone in the parking lot.

They all wait to go inside the club, ready to get drinks down and watch Payback get wasted, but the only problem was they were waiting for the last two to join.

“Fashionably late.” Bradley huffs, checking the time. They agreed to meet at ten, but the minutes continue to tick by.

“Hey, what’s this chick’s name?” Phoenix asks, looking down at her phone with a face of confusion.

They all rattle off names until one clicks.

“Yeah! That’s it.” Coyote agrees, looking at the faces of surprise. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I’m Facebook stalking her.”

Though they want to call her crazy, they huddle around the phone as she scrolls through the profile. Bradley rolls his eyes at the antics.

“You guys are being ridiculous.” He states.

“Holy shit…” Fanboy exclaims.

“She’s gorgeous…like insanely gorgeous.” Payback finishes the thought.

Just as Bradley turns to look, Jake’s truck rolls into a parking spot. Phoenix scrambles to put her phone away, trying to act natural as Jake gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the passenger side door.

Two long legs step out, they all watch with anticipation. The door is shut to reveal you in full.

Long, curled hair, a short black dress. You smile as you approach, it reflects in your blue eyes.

Bradley stands in a daze as you get introduced to everyone. He’s trying to think of a time when he’s seen someone more beautiful than you but he just can’t.

“This is Rooster.” Jake finally gets to him.

Bradley snaps out of it and smiles, shaking your perfectly soft hand.

You let your eyes rise from his shoes, all the way up his jeans and white tank top under his unbuttoned shirt. When they meet his eye, you take in a small breath at the way he gazes at you.

“Hi, Rooster.” You speak with a subtle southern accent, introducing yourself.

Then, you’re pulling away from him, his hand falls back at his side and he sees you turn to Payback.

“Happy birthday.” You say and hand him a small gift bag. “Jake helped me pick it out.”

He reaches into the bag, thanking you and saying that you really didn’t need to get him anything. He takes out a velvet box and opens it to reveal an expensive looking watch. The crew lowly whistles at it.

“Damn…my birthday’s next month by the way.” Coyote tells you, making you laugh.

Inside the club, the group of you gather in the reserved booth with a first round of drinks. Bradley sits directly across from you, watching you intently as you answer different questions.

“What do you do for work?” Phoenix asks, making Jake cut in.

“Stripping.” He says with a serious face, making you slap his arm.

“Stop telling people that.” You scold before looking back at Phoenix. “I model.”

That sparks a roar of interest, the whole time Bradley just watches your movements. Your fingers toy with the skinny straw in your glass as you tell a story about being in a rock music video or of doing an issue for Vogue two months ago. He sees your pouty bottom lip get caught between your pearly teeth when you laugh at something and his mind is flooded with thoughts he cannot speak out loud.

Here he was, worried you’d be a stone cold bitch when he should have been worried that you were gonna make him grip the table to ground himself. All you were doing was sitting there and he was already getting pulled in.

You’re Jake’s sister.

He has to remind himself of that as you are dragged into the swarm of clubbers by Phoenix and Halo.

“So…we’re just going to ignore the fact that she was a bunny?” Coyote mentions, making Jake cringe.

“Hey, asshole, let’s not talk about that when I’m sitting right here. Besides, it was like one issue, and she wasn’t buck naked.” He corrects, chugging his beer at the odd topic this has come to.

“You seen it?” Fanboy cringes.

“Our mom sent it to the family group chat! I was horrified.” Jake gags.

Bradley laughs at his reaction, then shifts his eyes to Coyote who finishes his drink. He sees the smirk he has and knows that there’s gonna be a comment to follow.

“She was hot, dude. I feel a little star struck, actually.” Coyote chuckles.

Jake points an angry finger at his friend. “I love you man, but say anything like that again and I’m putting you through this table. Got it?” He spits.

Bradley looks at his glass.

He better just keep his mouth shut, because if Jake hears the things he’s thinking, he’s as good as dead.

“What do you mean she was a bunny?” Bob questions, defusing the tension. “I thought she was Jake’s sister?”

The guys let out a sigh, Jake races off as it has to be explained to the pilot.

Lights and music pulse and as you dance along, Bradley’s jaw is ticking back and forth. You appear like a phantom, arms up as you laugh with Phoenix.

“I’ll be back.” He tells the guys before heading for the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and leans on the sink, trying to get himself together. Then, he pulls out his phone and Googles your name.

Hundreds and hundreds of photos appear on the screen, all in which you look sinfully good.

How could he not know of you before? He feels like he’s lived in darkness this whole time.

Bradley splashes water on his face and tells his reflection to get it together. With a deep breath, he goes to the bar, trying to get his head straight.

Things with Jake were finally fine, there was a truce made. The last thing that Bradley needs is to start another war by getting too close to the miniature Seresin.

Leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender to get to him, he’s suddenly joined.

“You weren’t gonna offer me a drink?” You ask with a playful smile.

He turns his head, looking down at you and he internally curses. Of course you’d find him, life was never easy for him.

“I figured you were a big girl and could get yourself something if you were thirsty.” He states, swallowing hard.

You let out a small chuckle, then wave the bartender over.

“Whatcha’ need sweetheart?” The bartender asks, leaning forward with a wink.

“Vodka with a diet redbull, if you wouldn’t mind.” You order, then turn to Rooster with an expectant look.

“Oh, uh, just whiskey on the rocks.” He mutters.

The bartender gets right on it, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You run a manicured hand through your hair and look up at him. “So, Rooster, you got a real name?” You ask.

He nods, avoiding eye contact. His fingers flex into fists and back out again because you smell like cherry and vanilla, it makes him feel woozy.

You laugh. “Yeah? What is it?”

Blowing out a breath, he tells himself he’s stronger than this and looks to you.

“Bradley.” He says, aching as you hum and try the name out for yourself.

“Bradley. I like that.” You nod, taking your drink as it is given to you.

Your lips wrap around the straw and slowly sip as he drinks his whiskey, focusing on the taste of it washing down his throat.

You watch the veins in his arms and the way his adams apple bobs. He’s the perfect picture of fine, the wheels are turning in your head as you establish that he’s what you want.

“You want to dance with me, Bradley?” You ask as he finishes the drink in silence.

He shoots his brown eyes down at you, but doesn’t answer. Your straw slurps as you reach the bottom of your glass. “It’s a simple question.” You state.

“No.” He shutters.

“No?” You clarify.

“I do but no, I won’t.” He says weakly.

“And why is that?” You question, lips pursing.

The way you squint your eyes makes him want to drop dead. He clears his throat. “You’re off limits, sweetheart. The last thing I need is your brother ripping my head off.”

You smile. “I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions.”

He turns to fully face you now. “I don’t think that matters to Hangman.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I’m standing here talking to you and he hasn’t come found me. I don’t know about you but to me, that seems like it’s okay for you to continue talking to me.”

You were being extremely difficult.

He sits on the chair behind him, motioning for you to do the same. Slowly, you sit, crossing one leg over the other. Your thumb nail gets caught between your teeth for a moment before he reaches out to pull it away. You lightly gasp at the action, then fold your hands together in your lap. “Wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

The two of you exchange friendly chatter, both very aware of the space shrinking between you. The sound of your voice is addicting, the longer you talk, the longer he adores it. All those silly things they guys assumed about you were entirely false. You were smart and kind, you were actually hilarious.

“You still don’t want to dance with me?” You ask after a breath, your fingers running over his thigh.

He sucks in a breath. “You just want me to be killed, don’t you?”

You look at the mass of people. “If I know one thing, it’s that my brother is probably all over some little blonde right now and way too distracted to worry about me.” You state, moving your fingers now to the back of his hand, slowly tracing shapes on his skin.

“What about the others?” He asks.

You shrug. “There’s a swarm of people, I doubt they’ll notice.”

He fights his inhibitions, then decides he’s aching to feel the silk of your dress under his hands way more than he is scared of getting caught.

Bradley grabs your hand, it’s strong as it guides you off the seat. You smirk to yourself as you follow behind him. He strategically places the two of you in the crowd, the lack of space makes you press yourself to him. Your arms hook around his neck, you feel the warmth of his palms on your lower back.

The different colored lights make the silhouette of you sharp and enticing. Though the two of you start out calm, your movements aren’t subtle. One hand in his hair, the other smooths up his chest. You’re hot, blame it on the people around you but the way he’s looking at you isn’t helping. The size of his hands on you, the way his hair gets messy, it has your knees feeling wobbly.

One movement forward, you’re pressed right against him, giving a delicious contact to the crotch of his jeans. His fingers grip your hips tightly, he leans down to press his lips to your ear. Your eyes widen as the heat of his breath washes down your neck.

“Don’t.” Is the only word he utters.

And you aren’t used to being told no.

You do it again, creating that aching friction as you rub against him. “Why not?” You whisper back.

Bradley shuts his eyes, trying to stay strong in the war he is not winning. “Don’t start something, sweetheart.”

You reach down to grab both his hands and slide them behind you. He grabs your ass instinctively.

“What if I want to?” You ask, anything but innocent.

He pulls away from your ear, shaking his head at you like it’ll change the situation. He’s saying no because it’s the smart thing, but really all he wants to do is slide his hand under your dress.

Your hand braces one side of his neck while you lean to the other. Slowly, like you aren’t sure if he’ll push you off or not, your lips press to his skin.

Bradley wants to curse, the way your tongue tastes the salt on his skin has him grinding you against him on his own accord. You make your way up to his jaw, then pull back. His eyes are entirely dark, you open your mouth to speak but he’s kissing you roughly.

You sigh contently as you start to feel like you’re buzzing on more than just alcohol. It only lasts a few seconds, like he just needed a taste. Bradley pulls away with a huff, you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“Still scared of Jake?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t smart.”

“But you want it.” You say, hand sliding up his chest.

He wants it, fuck he wants it. You can see it in his eyes, that’s why you take his hand and pull him out of the crowd.

In the secluded hallway of the bathrooms, in the low red lighting, you’re grinning as you’re backing him into the wall. You inhale deeply, fighting with his lips as he holds your waist. It’s feverish as you kiss, the way you gently press against his waist has Bradley biting back moans. Suddenly, he’s pushing you back, walking you until you hit the opposite wall.

“Don’t be a tease.” He warns lowly, hand gently squeezing your jaw.

Your smirk is victorious. “I won’t be a tease if you take me back to your place.”

He tightens his grip slightly before swooping down and devouring your lips. His strained jeans rub against you. “That’s what you want?” He asks, pulling away again.

You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “I’m up for anything you want to do, actually.”

His thumb pulls that lip down. He looks at it in awe as he makes his final decision.

“Text your brother, tell him that you called an Uber home.” He says.

“Jake already said he was taking a girl home and sent me the cash for a ride.” You breathe.

It’s all a sudden blur, the way Bradley’s dragging you out to the parking lot, helping you into the passenger seat of his Bronco. He’s definitely breaking traffic laws as he races to his one bedroom house.

He struggles to get the door open as you suck at his neck. Once he does get it open, he’s tugging you inside and slamming it shut.

Down the hall, you’re shredding his layers. His button shirt is thrown over the couch in the living room, his belt lands on the coffee table. As you pull his white tank off, your breath catches.

“Fuck.” Is all you can say, looking at how toned his upper body is. His biceps make you want to wrap your hands around them and squeeze.

Bradley smirks, feeling good about himself. “This is what gets you to shut that mouth of yours?” He asks.

You run your eyes over his abs. “You’re like…insanely hot.”

He grips your waist, then backs you up into the kitchen counter. “Says the one with the million dollar body.”

Your fingers dance over his bare skin. “Art appreciates art.” You shrug before devouring his kiss again.

At this point your lipstick is gone, Bradley wears some of it on his skin like you’ve branded him. His hands brace under your thighs, easily lifting you to sit on the smooth kitchen counter. You sit with a huff, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. The smooth material of your dress bunches on your hips, giving him a perfect view of the pretty pink thong you wear.

He breathes heavy in excitement, gazing down at the lace like it’s a prize. That’s before he’s tilting your head back and kissing down the column of your throat. You mewl softly at the feeling, how he dances down the tops of your breasts that threaten to spill out of the dress.

Then he’s sinking further down, you watch him slowly lower himself to become eye level with your core. You gasp softly as he grips your thighs and places warm kisses to them. It stimulates you, the way his lips feel. His hot breath fans over your aching center, he’s kissing the lace fabric like he’s praising it before he grips the top of it.

“You still sure you want this?” He checks one last time. “Because I don’t know if I can stop after I start.”

You grow impatient, flexing your hips to move your heat closer to him. “Bradley, I don’t want you to stop.”

That was enough for him to yank the panties down your legs, letting them hang on one ankle. He keeps your heels on, enjoying the way they press against his upper back as your legs drape over his shoulders.

His tongue comes to run up your center, you take in a sharp breath. He tastes your arousal, immediately becoming intoxicated off of it. Fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs, he keeps you spread open for him as he dives in, eating you out in a way you haven’t experienced before.

Your head falls back, hand wringing in his hair, holding him close to you. A moan tumbles free from your throat. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this. Fuck! Like that.”

He can’t help but grin wildly, stimulating your erected clit before stretching two fingers inside of you. Your hips buck at the feeling, you’re humming out, panting at the feeling. He eats it so good, you don’t even think to muffle the sounds you make.

“Ah, Bradley.” You breathe, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“You like it, pretty girl?” He vibrates against you, making you cry out.

His eyes lift to look up at you writhe. You’re perfect, open mouthed and grinding against his tongue, reacting when he curls his fingers.

“Yes.” You encourage.

The sound is wet and lewd as he sucks on your sensitive skin, your eyes widen as you feel your finish coming on.

“Rooster, I’m close.” You whine slightly, it only makes him focus more and get you closer.

“You want to cum? Do it, finish for me.” He encourages.

Your chest heaves, you tighten your grip in his hair as you clench around his fingers. You curse loudly, feeling the orgasm build and build until you finally snap. You shudder, your thighs clench around Bradley’s head as you feel the wave wash over you. He’s there through it, cleaning you up with his tongue, sucking his fingers clean.

You lick his lips, tasting yourself on him before kissing him.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He coos, helping you off the counter, chuckling at your uneasy legs as he guides you to his bedroom.

The door is clicked shut behind you and Bradley’s pulling you against him, cradling your face in his hands as he clashes his tongue with yours. His pants are pushed off by your greedy hands, then he’s watching you crawl onto his perfectly made bed. Your eyelashes fan perfectly as you stare at him, slowly pulling your dress off and dropping it to the floor.

Fuck.

You’re perfect.

Sitting pretty for him, he lets his eyes roam over your perfect skin, how great you look in his bed.

He’s in trouble.

Your leg extends out, lifting your foot up expectantly. With a pleased smile, he comes forward to the foot of the bed, unbuckling the heel, then the other. He tosses them carelessly behind him, they hit the floor with a clatter.

“Those are expensive.” You warn as he tugs at your ankles, making you gasp and fall onto your back.

“Yeah? I’m sure you have five more pairs just like them.” He states, crawling up the bed to hover over you.

Slowly, the two of you share the same air. You lay, looking up at him. “Come on, Bradley, I won’t tell if you won’t.” You tease.

He could devour you.

“You do this often? Target your brother’s friends?” He jokes back.

Your nails run down his scalp. “I can’t stand my brother’s friends. You on the other hand, you’re different.”

Tongue in your mouth, he’s moaning, sitting up to pull open his nightstand drawer. The foil of the condom is cool in his fingers, he pulls back to sit on his knees as you sit up. You pull his boxer briefs down his toned legs, breathing heavy as his full erection is freed. It aches against his stomach, the tip dripping with precum. You swipe your thumb over it, making him groan.

Completely infatuated, you pump your hand over his length as he rips open the condom package.

“I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” He grunts out, pulling your hand away so he can roll the rubber on. “Get on your stomach.”

The direct tone of his voice has you a mess between your legs, you roll over, legs spread, yelping in surprise as he tugs your hips, positioning your ass in the air.

“Is this okay?” He asks, warmly rubbing your back.

Hair falls in your eyes, he moves it away. You look back at him and nod. “It’s more than okay.”

His dark eyes gleam, then he’s positioning himself at your entrance. You feel the tip of him run down your folds, nudging your clit, making you mewl lowly and grab the pillow.

He pushes halfway in before you gasp, he slowly enters your walls to make sure you’re relaxed enough for him. The pressure his size gives you has you breathing hard already.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart.” He says lowly, letting his head fall back as he finally bottoms out.

Adjusting, you can feel how good he fills you. “Oh god.” You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly pulls back and pushes into you again.

“You sound so perfect.” Bradley says, slack jawed.

He kneads your ass, gripping it as he sets a pace. The way you lay out on front of him, arched back and taking him so good, he wants to cum inside of you in that moment.

“Mm, like that.” You guid. “You’re so fucking deep.”

Hearing those dirty words from your perfect lips, his vision threatens to go blurry.

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted the whole night, my cock buried inside you. Fuck, you’re so tight, it’s amazing.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling your hips, he fucks you back into him. As you meet his thrusts, broken sounds are coming from your throat.

You’re picture perfect, he’s going to be getting off to this image for weeks.

Mind completely cloudy, you mutter your words, they slur together. His fingers snake down to rub your clit and it has you choking on a sob, burying your face into the pillow at the build up inside of you.

“There you go, baby.” He breathes, picking up his pace. His hand stretches to gently tangle in your hair, his thrusts are hard, jolting you.

His name is muffled as you chant it, warning him that you’re oh-so close. You can’t even turn your head to look back at him, you just lean your head back and cry out as you clench around him.

“Holy shit- I’m almost there, hang on.” He grunts, edging himself closer and closer.

Your body shakes. “Bradley.” You whimper out, then you’re coming all over him.

The shout of him is what makes him push fully inside of you one last time and release. He bucks against you, riding his high out.

You’re collapsed onto the mattress now as he pulls out of you, mouth open as you pant, face and hair a mess.

“Holy fuck…” He runs a hand over his face, moving to lean back against his headboard.

He looks down at you, thinking you’re utterly spent. His gentle hands pull you up to him, slowly kissing you, trying to comb your hair down.

You learn how affectionate he can be. Especially after another round, where you’re watching him fuck up into you as you ride him, and genuine tiredness overcomes the two of you. You both clean up, then you try to decide what your next move is.

Hookups weren’t something you were too familiar with, you’ve only ever slept with your previous boyfriends.

Were you supposed to go back to your house? Did he expect you to leave?

The answer is decided when he shifts to his worn side of the bed.

“Come back to bed.” He says, watching you stand in the doorway, looking at your shoes.

Your eyes lift back up to him and his heart stops for a moment, you’re wearing a genuine grin.

Tangled in his sheets, not bothering to get dressed, the two of you talk until you eventually are lulled to sleep. You tried to fight it, but he’s so warm as he holds you, his voice is such a perfect tone, he’s rubbing your head and doing everything a hookup doesn’t do.

He’s well aware of this.

And when you’re snoozing peacefully, tucked against his chest, he curses and looks up at the ceiling.

He was already in too deep.

Part 2 here

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bishopsbeloved · 11 months ago

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crystal clear

kate bishop x fem reader

there’s something about kate bishop that you can’t get enough of. you need to be close to her, always, but you’ll take whatever you can get — even if that means you’re just her fuckbuddy.

fwb to lovers, fluff and angst (happy ending), mentions of sex, god i love kate bishop, 3.3k words

read this fic on ao3!

Kate Bishop doesn’t swing by your borough very often.

When she does, it’s for either superheroing or sex. Her being in the area for the former will inevitably lead to her calling you for the latter.

You met through a mutual friend in college. You got on really well as friends at first, but you were undeniably attracted to her (who wouldn’t be?), and at a drunken New Year’s party she proved that attraction mutual when you were her New Year’s kiss. You ended up doing a lot more than kissing that night, and when you woke up in her bed the next morning she ever-so-casually suggested that the two of you “do this again sometime”.

“It’ll be good for both of us,” she shrugged. “You’re stressed with school, I’m stressed with… this,” she nodded over at her suit and bow, haphazardly discarded in the corner of her room.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea. You knew somewhere deep within you that you wouldn’t be satisfied with just sex. Kate Bishop is the kind of person that it’s difficult to get enough of, and you wanted all of her. But you’d take whatever you could get.

The two of you laid out ground rules, of course. Neither of you would sleep with anyone else (Kate didn’t have the time to find anyone else, and you didn’t have the interest). You wouldn’t tell any of your other friends (“America will never let me hear the end of it,” Kate said, nose wrinkling), and, most importantly, rule number one, you wouldn’t let it ruin the friendship.

“It’s just sex,” Kate insisted. “We can’t— I don’t do relationships.”

It’s not like it was news to you. Kate Bishop doesn’t do relationships, ever. Everyone knows it. You bit your lip and nodded, stomach already sinking a little. In retrospect, that should’ve been your first warning sign.

You hadn’t meant to break rule number one, though. Honest. If anything, it’s Kate’s fault, for being so… Kate. And it’s didn’t happen all at once, either. In an effort to maintain your pre-existing friendship, you both continued your routine of coffees every Wednesday morning, and walks with Pizza Dog in Central Park. Everything was as it always was on the surface, but within you could feel a shift begin, no matter how badly you wanted things to stay the same. Every time you caught yourself staring at her too long or laughing too hard at something dumb she said or your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing, you did everything in your power to put a stop to it. But you were helpless. Kate Bishop is a beacon, a lighthouse, and you’re drawn in to her against your will, no matter what you’re doing — whether it’s movie night or a coffee not-date or those late-night talks after sex or, yes, the sex itself. The sex is great. Just like everything else with her.

Fuck.

It happens gradually, so gradually, but everything comes to a crescendo when you roll over one morning and she’s already awake, staring at you with such depth and warmth in her big blue eyes. You blink back at her for a moment and know with frightening clarity that you’re in love with her. It’s crystal clear. You can taste your love for her on your lips when she kisses you good morning, and it terrifies you.

You don’t know what to do. You can’t tell her, that’ll ruin everything. It’s the number one condition of this arrangement — don’t jeopardise the friendship. This will do more than just jeopardise it. She’ll never want to talk to you again. And now that you’ve gotten used to Kate Bishop’s presence in your life, you never want to let it go. She makes your days brighter, she’s a joy to be around no matter what you’re doing, and you want to be around her in whatever capacity is achievable. Even if that capacity is friends who fuck sometimes.

So even though it’s a bad, awful idea, even though you’re already breaking the most important rule of the agreement, you carry on with it. You respond to every you up? text and then try to ignore the way your chest hurts the next morning when she walks out the door. Sometimes she’s gone before you even wake up. You think you prefer that, in some ways. At least you don’t have to watch her go.

Kate’s visits to your part of the city are sporadic, and mainly motivated by you, to be honest. There’ll be times when she doesn’t call in on you for a week, and then the next she’ll be at your place for three nights in a row. (She always makes an effort to maintain your Wednesday morning meets, though — a gesture you’d be touched by if you knew no better.)

This week has been one of those in which you haven’t seen her at all. Your life is a little less bright when she’s not around, although you do your best to distract yourself with college things and coursework, and your attempts are generally semi-successful. You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night when your phone chirps out the little notification tone reserved exclusively for Kate, and her name flashes on your lockscreen.

kate bishop <3: you awake? i’m abt five mins away

Your heart is in your throat, but you of course tell her yes.

kate bishop <3: ok omw

you: do i need to have the bandaids ready?

Your teasing, of course, refers to all of the times she’s shown up on your doorstep a little worse for wear. You’re sure you’re a qualified nurse by this point.

kate bishop <3: no

kate bishop <3: …yes

you: see you soon

You place your phone down, grinning stupidly to yourself.

(You are very, very stupid.)

In barely any time at all she is sat on your kitchen counter with you stood between her legs, gently dabbing at the most recent gash on her forehead.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” you reassure her exasperatedly.

“There was a lot of blood,” she pouts. You laugh softly.

“That’s what flesh wounds do. Even small ones. You should know that by now,” you tease, carefully extracting a Band-Aid from the packaging.

She sighs. “No, I think I’m seriously injured, and I need a pretty girl to kiss it better.”

If literally anybody else had said that you would not be smiling dopily back at them with a stomach full of butterflies. But it’s Kate Bishop, so you place the Band-Aid over her forehead cut before dropping a kiss on top of it. “Better?”

“Maybe if we kissed in… some other places.” The latter half is said against your skin as she wraps her arms around your waist to draw you in closer. You can’t help but melt into her arms as she begins to trail kisses down your neck, and the lower she gets the more open-mouthed they become. She grins wickedly when you start to make those little noises at the back of your throat that she loves to draw out of you.

“So sensitive,” she murmurs, her hands beginning to slide lower. Her eyes meet yours and they’re dark and stormy in the way that sets your stomach alight.

“Katie,” you pant, and she pauses to look up at you. “Maybe we shouldn’t— if you’re so seriously injured,” you try breathlessly, and she laughs. (The sound sends a little shiver up your spine. You adore her laugh.)

“You know I’ll eat pussy no matter what’s wrong with me,” she retorts, and you feel your face heat up. Yes, you do know that. You know it from experience. There was a time she had a broken nose, and — well — the activities she roped you into didn’t help that broken nose.

So you let yourself succumb to her touch, as you do every other night she wants you, and try your best to quash the bad, bad feeling that’s been threatening to surface the last few months.

Part of it is guilt, you think. You’re pretty much lying to her — or lying by omission, anyway — when you continue to pretend you’re not breaking the most important rule. You kind of feel like you’re violating her. She didn’t sign up for her dumb fuckbuddy hopelessly pining after her.

But also, you’re beginning to feel that maybe you deserve happiness. Maybe you deserve better than being the dumb fuckbuddy who hopelessly pines. You want to love, and be loved. You can’t stomach meaningless sex anymore, and you can’t stomach being meaningless to Kate.

Maybe if this ends now, you and Kate can still salvage your friendship.

You know ending things won’t be easy. That’s why you’ve been putting it off for this long. But you have to stop giving yourself false hope. It’s getting pathetic.

Even as you’re coming on her tongue you tell yourself resolutely this is the last time you’ll sleep with Kate Bishop.

When the act in question is over, she lays her head on your bare chest, humming softly. Your love for her hits you all at once; it sets you alight and sickens you all over again. You can’t do this anymore. This ends now.

“Kate,” you say quietly. “I’ve been thinking.”

The way that you say it makes her shoulders tense, she can tell something’s not right. She moves to sit up so she can see your face and take your hand between hers. You gently retract your hand, you don’t meet her eyes, and the cleft between her brows only deepens. “What? What is it?”

“I think,” you say shakily, “I think this… should end now.” You swallow, still not really looking at her.

“Why?” She says it quietly, and you can’t glean much else from her one-word response.

“I don’t really wanna be someone’s fuckbuddy anymore. I want to be someone’s girlfriend,” you admit.

Kate is silent for a few moments. “You know that I— I don’t —”

“Do relationships? Yeah,” you exhale. You tilt back your head, looking at the ceiling, anywhere but her. “So that’s why I’m saying we should— maybe we stop.”

“Okay,” she says eventually, and despite yourself you feel your shoulders sag a little as she confirms your beliefs. She doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. This is what it’s always been — just sex.

You feel her eyes on you and you’re careful to keep your gaze averted. You’re certain that if you look at her you’ll cry. Because you’re not looking at her, though, you miss the way she opens her mouth to say something else before thinking better and closing it again. You don’t see the way her bottom lip trembles as she turns away from you and begins to gather her various belongings, scattered across your room. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll through it mindlessly while Kate fixes her messy sex hair in the mirror. You only look up when she moves to open the door.

“I’ll… I’ll text you when I’m in the neighbourhood,” she says half-heartedly.

You press your lips together and nod. “See you around, Katie.”

“Bye, Y/N/N,” she murmurs, and closes the door behind her. You finally allow the tears to spill from your eyes.

You didn’t expect her to actually follow through. There’s radio silence between the two of you for a good while. You chicken out of breaking it to ask if Wednesday mornings are still on, and she certainly doesn’t initiate conversation, so you don’t see or hear from Kate Bishop for almost a fortnight (which is probably for the best, you’ll admit, since she’s left you in a right state). When she finally does text you, you almost fall out of your bed reading it, and have to double check that you’re not seeing things.

Sure enough, though:

kate bishop <3 (now):

can i come over?

You hastily type out a reply.

sure, when?

kate bishop <3: now lol?

kate bishop <3: i’m already omw

This makes you shoot out of bed. You’ve taken the definitely-not-breakup hard, and pretty much haven’t left your bed in the two weeks since you last saw Kate, much less your apartment. You’ve kinda just spent your time crying, eating ice cream and ignoring America’s threatening texts that come through when you miss another game night. You’re just not ready to face Kate in a social setting. One on one, though, is probably manageable. At least if it goes downhill no one else will see you cry. You’ll need to clean yourself up, though.

You spend the few extra minutes you know you’ll have, because Kate says hi to every dog she sees on the sidewalk, shovelling clothes from the floor into your closet in a vain attempt to make your place look a little more presentable, and questioning why you said yes to her coming over at all. When you hear a knock on the door, the silly little pattern only she does (“how else will you know it’s me?” she always says), you feel sick to your stomach.

You answer the door, and the two of you blink at each other for a few moments. Sure, it’s only been two weeks, but it also feels like there’s been a lifetime of change between you. The Band-Aid you put on her forehead when you last saw her is gone, and the cut beneath it is almost healed. A few others have replaced it on various different parts of her face, though. Her hair is loose, her cheeks are a little flushed from the journey to you and god, she’s so pretty.

“Hi,” you squeak out, and before you can do anything else she’s rushed forward and her arms are wrapping around you, tightly. It takes you a minute to process but then you return the hug, just as hard, breathing her in like it’s the last time you’ll ever see her.

“Hi,” you say again, but it’s much quieter this time, a whisper in her ear. She hums a greeting back into yours.

“I really missed you,” she murmurs quietly, and your breath hitches. You weren’t expecting any of this. She holds you close to her for a moment longer before finally letting you go. You don’t really know what to do with yourself, so you just step aside and let her into your apartment, closing the door behind her.

She wanders into the middle of your room, intently taking in everything like it’s her first visit. It’s not — far from it — and not much has changed since she was last here. There’s a moment of silence, and you can see the cogs turning in her brain. She’s building herself up to something. You don’t know what exactly, you don’t know what’s about to happen, but she’s got that faraway look in her eye.

“Kate,” you say tentatively, “what—”

She spins around to look at you, like you saying her name has grounded her, and she earnestly reaches for your hands. You give them to her uncertainly.

“Y/N,” she says, and her voice is thick with emotion in a way you’ve never heard it before. “I—”

She studies you intensely for a long, long moment before pulling you flush against her and pressing her lips to yours.

You can’t help it. Your eyes flutter shut at the familiar sensation, at the way she tastes, and your hands slide through her hair. The way she feels against you makes your head spin, and you’re gasping into her mouth and she’s whining, backing up towards the couch, and then suddenly she’s sat on it and you’re on her lap and Kate’s tongue is beginning to slide against yours, and it’s so good. You groan, your brain beginning to catch up with your body, and it takes every shred of willpower you possess to gently push her back.

“Katie,” you say weakly. She leans up desperately to reconnect the kiss, and when you shift from her lap to the empty seat on the couch next to her she makes a quiet noise of protest, her hands reaching out for you. “Kate. I told you I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Her face falls. She looks like a kicked puppy, and your heart clenches, but then she presses her lips together and looks up at you with determination.

“Y/N,” she says, reaching again for your hand. She’s not deterred when you don’t let her take it. She takes a deep breath, and you know as she opens her mouth you’re in for one of her trademark Kate Bishop rambles. “I am a fucking idiot. Think of the stupidest person you‘ve ever met and times it by twelve and that’s me. I literally—” She buries her face in her hands for a moment before continuing. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have let you end things. That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Which is seriously saying something, you literally watched me shoot down a priceless historical bell last year. You are— you’re— it wasn’t just sex to me, Y/N,” she says desperately, and this time when she reaches for your hand you let her. “I don’t think it ever was. I don’t know. I said I don’t do relationships, because it’s true usually I don’t, and that’s what you agreed to when we started this so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and also I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m maybe a tiny bit obsessed with you, like I’m always thinking about you, how do you say that to someone? That’s not a normal thing to say, and then I didn’t want to freak you out and then you wanted to end things so I thought maybe that would be easier for you, I thought maybe you didn’t want me like that so I just let it happen which why did I do that, but then it was too late because I’m an idiot so I was trying to let it go, but I can’t sleep, Y/N, all I can think about is you, and I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do, but I do. I do want a relationship with you, I want it so bad I want everything with you, and if you don’t then you can forget this ever happened because I don’t want to make anything weird and America will kill me if I ruin her perfect Wii Sports game night team, but I just— I really had to tell you. I want a relationship with you, I want to be your girlfriend. I want— yeah. Yeah,” she says breathlessly, her eyes bright, and when she finishes her spiel her shoulders drop in the way they always do, like a physical weight has been lifted from her body. You stare up at her adoringly, and take her face between both of your hands.

“Kate Bishop,” you say sincerely, “you are such an idiot.”

“Wh—” she manages, before your lips meet with hers again.

This kiss is different. For the first time, the two of you are on the same page. Kate Bishop is yours, she wants you, and the thought makes you want to sing. On her lips now you taste something beautiful blossoming between you. You kiss her until you’re breathless, until the air that’s in your lungs is hers, and then you rest your head in the crook of her neck while she holds you as close to her as she can, clutching you like she can’t believe this is real, her chest heaving and hands shaky.

“I— I really do want to be your girlfriend,” she whispers again, and this time it’s so gentle and vulnerable. Your heart bursts at the way she’s so earnestly giving herself to you, no matter how much she swore she wouldn’t.

“Okay,” you tell her, and when your eyes meet hers are full of hope. “Okay.”

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x fem reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfeld x reader #god i love kate bishop #she is so squishy i want to put her in my pocket

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bouquetface · 6 months ago

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PAC: First Date.

Topic is first date. May have already happened or will. Not necessarily with your future spouse.

As always, I will be specific not going to appeal to everyone. Not every reading you come across is meant for you. Take it as entertainment.

Photos of Dom Fike because I’ve been feeling nostalgic.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

1. 2.

One.

This relationship will begin through technology. Maybe an instagram DM. I don’t really believe it will be through a dating app. This is due to there being confusion at first. You may be unsure if they’re trying to talk to you romantically or in a platonic way. I see you going to someone in your house (roommate, sister, or mom). Reading some of the texts out loud and asking their opinions.

Whoever you tell may advise you to be careful. There is something about this person that makes them doubtful. It could be they have a mischievous appearance or persona. They may be a gemini rising. Attractive and seemingly popular. It can be unclear when someone like this is flirting fr or in a friendly/joking way.

Fairly quickly, they’ll ask to meet up. Somewhere local and in public. The setting of the date and casual way it was asked is making you overthink. You may think a proper date is something like going to the movies, going to dinner. Not meeting up at a random time during the day. It’ll be a sunny day. You may be given a loose idea of what’s going to happen. Like “i want to see you” “meet me at _____ since we’re both free”.

The lead up is going to make you nervous. It may be the advice/conversation you had about this person earlier. There are more nerves than usual for a meet up. The way they asked may make it still unclear if it’s a date or not. You could go back and forth with yourself on whether it’s a date or hanging out.

When you do meet up, the first comment made will instantly relax you. They may say something about your height - something about your appearance or the appearance of the location. Physically, I believe they’ll be very lanky. It could be your lanky as well or you’re notably shorter. You two will end up walking a lot that day. You may get drinks or a small treat along the way. Seems you two are just exploring the area & talking.

They’ll be very curious about you. Asking lots of question, teasing/joking at your answers. They may ask questions off topic or change topics a lot. A bit scatterbrained but it keeps the conversation moving. At the same time they’re very detached - making them a confusing person to read. It doesn’t seem like they take life too seriously. They respond to things with humour or logic.

It really seems you are very nervous or confused. They don’t pick up on it at all though. They have a playful nature but you’ll still be confused at their intentions. I am not sure if this makes them a red flag or not. I don’t know if you tend to overthink things normally, or if their personality is making you react that way. Their chill & kinda stoic nature may not work for you.

It is the first date so it does take people time to open up. All their questions for you, does suggest they have a desire to get to known you on a deeper level. Yet, I will be honest this first date seems more like a hangout, kinda low effort so if that doesn’t appeal to you, this next date may be a let down. Keep in mind though it’s the first date and seems like the first ever meet up. Of course, they’ll be a bit on guard if they just met you. At the end of the day, it’s up to you to decide.

Two.

The two of you will be in a more private area than the first pile. Despite being alone with person, you’ll feel very comfortable. This might be someone you already knew before going on a date. Maybe someone from the past that you haven’t seen in a while. You could have gone to school together.

It could be dinner at a restaurant. Yet, the comfortable & private energy is making me believe you could be at yours or their place. They may walk you to your door and you invite them in. They may take you to their place after the night. Perhaps, you invite them in to watch a film.

This is very random but they definitely went to the barber a few days before this date to get cleaned up. You may really like the way their hair looks. They may have had a glow up since the last time you saw them. You could be wearing something very sexy. Black or red. Omg pile 2, this could be someone who felt friend zoned by you in the past.

Your look that night is driving them crazy. The scorpio card coming up is making me think you knew what you were doing when you put on that outfit. The fireworks card literally says “Loving Passionate Intimacy”. Whether it gets sexual that first night or not, the feelings are definitely there. It feels like a dream come true to this person. You are their fantasy come to life. They may have been secretly admiring you for a while.

4th of July is coming up so possibly for American readers, there could be literal fireworks. The reading is still strongly indicating an intimate vibe. You may sneak off together, end up alone watching fireworks. I literally pulled the fireworks card and am now hearing fireworks. I’m in Canada, and apparently my neighbours couldn’t wait until Canada Day (which is tmr). Crazy coincidence. They began and (have seemed to) stop at this pile.

Unlike the first pile, I believe very strongly you will want to see this person again. There is no doubt in my mind. You two are very attracted to each other. Ofc this won't be the future spouse for everyone reading but for someone reading this, it definitely is the first night with your future spouse.

#tarot pac #tarotblr #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a photo #pick a picture #tarotcommunity #gemini rising #aquarius sun #scorpio mercury #scorpio venus #capricorn rising

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sister-lucifer · 2 years ago

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Genre: Smut

Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest.

Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!

The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:

“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.

Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it.

“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold.

“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation.

“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.”

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it.

“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.”

“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?”

You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t?

You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself.

“How about…a clean fifty?”

And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away.

Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all.

You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours.

As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today.

Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep.

That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember.

You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf.

What were you so scared of?

That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare.

A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon.

However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you.

The glass door of your shelf was open.

Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.

But we all make mistakes, don’t we?

That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident.

When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered.

It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual.

First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself.

As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen.

You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you.

Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner.

You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day.

This was certainly unusual behavior.

That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing.

He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway.

He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to:

You.

What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more.

It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him.

You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance.

Yeah, sure, that made enough sense.

By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded.

At least you had until you stepped through the door.

The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home.

You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.

No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.

Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare?

You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch.

You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened.

Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped.

You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut.

Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that.

The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking.

Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock.

You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted.

Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up.

Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—

The shelf is open again.

The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own.

The box has moved on its own.

You were suddenly feeling light headed.

You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.

No such luck.

You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it.

It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security.

“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you.

Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy.

He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up.

He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time.

Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it.

When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe.

For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again.

For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play.

For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either.

The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.

God, they never stopped.

They were almost all the same:

You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you.

Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell.

On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could.

He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one.

Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you.

Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around.

It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough.

But that was okay.

He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it.

That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before?

And why, God—

Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?”

The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.

The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge.

It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it.

It was a hand.

A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box.

A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body.

You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold:

Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.

There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked.

That…thing from your dream was hovering over you.

Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous.

Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down.

Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws.

But that didn’t happen.

No, instead…

It laughed.

The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute.

That was what you were to Jack:

Cute.

But not in the way you’d think.

You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute.

Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute.

Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute.

Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved.

He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement.

“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.

Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue.

It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth.

“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?”

“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice.

He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name.

One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part.

You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—

You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.

When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin.

“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.

“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out.

Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own.

He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth.

“W-Wait—!”

But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers.

“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…

You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more.

But what choice did you have, really?

Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.

You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs.

“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.

It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human.

His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity.

Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase.

Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you.

You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy.

When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin.

“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“

“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.”

You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.

“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy.

“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.

The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point.

When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task.

“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.”

He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life.

“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult.

“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!”

He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.

“Brutal” was an understatement.

Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach.

Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see.

“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply.

He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you.

Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you.

Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on.

Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears.

He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach.

Oh, you simply had to see this!

He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down.

“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’

“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!”

He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort.

Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death.

Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now.

What the hell is he thinking?!

You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you.

He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock.

And honestly…It wasn’t so bad.

That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one.

“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other.

“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more! What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?”

He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him.

Oh…you liked that.

He was more than happy to keep going.

“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!”

You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement.

“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…”

And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more.

He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.

“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words.

“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.”

His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that.

“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…”

You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…”

Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled.

He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done.

You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now.

You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering.

“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh.

Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…

Humans are so strange.

He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin.

“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…”

Oh, fuck.

He wasn’t leaving, was he?

mdni & reblog banners by cafekitsune

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #male reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack smut #clown fucker #creepypasta x male reader #laughing jack x male reader #laughing jack x you #creepypasta x reader smut #laughing jack x reader smut #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent

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multifariousqueer · 1 year ago

Text

Miles G x Done! Reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea to finish this so this is gonna be the last part of this story. Once again, requests are closed but nice comments are appreciated 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Warnings: Yandere behavior, arguing, strong language, Stockholm syndrome, mentions of starvation and your circulation being cut off(very brief at the end), kidnapping, toxic behavior, violence, mentions of blood and bruises, lmk if I missed one

You felt a strong pair of arms grip your being as you struggled for freedom. Every thought you had somehow left your mind and new thoughts took their place, most of them being about how you were gonna get out of this when suddenly, everything was dark and you heard a familiar voice:

“You thought you could escape me Mami?”

~~~

When you awoke, you were in a cold room that felt almost sterile yet it felt like someone had tried to make it homey. A punching bad stood in the corner and it seemed you were in a wear house.

You dawned a leg chain as if you were an animal and you were wearing an outfit that had been long abandoned. Your hair felt puffier and you realized it was in the style you had when you left him(or so you thought).

The lights flickered on as you grimaced and the sound of fluorescent lighting buzzing and filling your ear and you attempted to shield your face in a last stitch effort to give yourself comfort in such an uncomfortable environment. His figure stalked through the door slowly as he glared at you. He was wearing his usual Prowler attire while dawning the same necklace you two had as a symbol of your long forgotten love.

Miles stalked closer as you tried to shuffle away knowing what was to come. Tears slipped down your cheeks as he put his hand on your cheek and wiped the tears away.

“Hola, mi amor. I understand these aren’t the best circumstances for us to reconcile but it still serves its purpose” he said

“Fuck you you insane bastard” you said lowly

“Such strong language for someone in such a weak position” he smirked

“What do you want?” You questioned

“You. It’s always been you”

“Why do you want me after all this time? I’ve changed I’m not the same anymore, Miles” you tried to convince him

“Just because you move to a new state which wasn’t far enough cuz I was still able to get you, and change your fits and hair doesn’t mean you’re any different, y/n. I get it, I haven’t been the most attentive or even the best boyfriend but I’m still yours and you’re still mine.”

“That’s not true. You hid being the prowler from me, you isolated me from my family, friends, everyone that cared about me” you said

“Because I love you, Y/n. When will you understand that? You wanted me so badly and now you have me.” He smirked crouching to your level

“I wanted you before I knew how much of a wackjob you were” you said, trying to scoot away from this monster

“Did you really just say ‘wackjob’ ma?” He laughed like it was Kevin Heart in front of him

“YES I DID BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOURE ARE!!” You screamed. Miles didn’t even flinch and instead just smiled

“Mama I’m not a ‘wackjob’ I’m your man and no amount of shitty hair dye and new clothes can change that” he said

“I hate you Miles Morales” You cried

“You’ll grow to love me just as you once did, Y/n. Just give it time” he said before getting up and leaving

“Oh and Ma?” He asked but you didn’t answer

“I left you some sopa de pollo because I know how tired you must be. And if it’s not gone by the morning, I’ll make you eat it in front of me and” he said before leaving one fluorescent light on and leaving the room. Leaving you with chicken soup and in tears.

The next day he uphold his promise and made you eat by forcing you to swallow it and spoon feeding you:

“I’ll feed you every meal, Chiquita if that’s what it’ll take for you to love me again” Miles said

“It’s gonna be a lot of meals before that happens” you joked

Miles smiled as he saw a sliver of your personality shined through. He always adored your humor and your wit and took this as a sign you’d be back to normal within no time.

The next three weeks we’re both grueling and miserable yet somewhat Euphoric. Starving wasn’t an option since he would spoon feed you(which you started eating yourself) and neither was hoping your circulation would cut off because he padded the leg cuff. Although lately, he would give you “breaks” which meant he let you walk around the warehouse a bit. You started joking more and being more open and Miles couldn’t be happier.

He started staying with you longer and cuddling with you now that trust was built up again and he felt like you were back to how you were before. He adored you and would do anything for you. If you had a cold, he would get you meds and nurse you back to health; if you had a food craving, he would get it in a heartbeat. It even got to the point of you taking care of Miles yourself.

Sometimes he would come in with cuts and bruises and you would gently nurse him back to health and clean his cuts with the little first aid kit he gave you. It felt so weird to be falling for him again and suddenly you felt like the first time you met him. It took months to crack his shell but once you did, it was over for you.

Perhaps it was the Stockholm Syndrome, maybe the lighting or maybe the fact that he went this far to care for you that made you start to love him once more.

~~~

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thatsatricky1 · 2 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 | 𝐳.𝐜𝐥

“Chenle your end is near.” Y/n gritted out through clenched teeth furiously scrubbing her hands in the bathroom sink.

“My stylist specifically bought non staining body paint Y/n.” Chenle’s voice came muffled through the closed bathroom door, no doubt with his face squished against the door as if it would help.

“Yeah? Did she happen to also test it out beforehand?” Her question was met with silence.

Chenle had rushed his makeup artist to find the paint since the party had been only a week away back then. They had in fact not tested it beforehand and if he recalled it right it was the same brand they’d used on Renjun, Jisung, Jeno and himself which had not come off well.

“We could try using nail polish remover?” Chenle suggested through the door.

“You do realise that amount of nail polish remover would make us high off the fumes right?” Y/n retorted all the while Chenle heard the sink still on full blast.

“Alright you got me there, open up, two pairs of hands are better than one.” Chenle offered. At the moment he wasn’t feeling too good about this outcome but he knew they’d both laugh about it later.

Chenle half expected her to just dish out another anger induced insult but Y/n was unlocking and swinging the door open seconds later, hands clearly still stained blue with light blue drops of water dripping down.

“Oh shit.” He winced out now realising why she’d be so mad.

“Not helping.”

After a whole fifteen minutes Chenle had managed to remove a bit of the staining on her hands with the effort of a lot of lavender scented soap. Chenle moving to slather more soap on his hands moving toward her face.

”Uh no.” Y/n cut off his actions, shoving his hands away.

“So you want to be like violet from Willy Wonka that bad?” Chenle asked out unhelpfully.

“No I’m just gonna shower instead, it’ll be easier to do it all in one.”

“Why didn’t you think of that to begin with?” His next question was met with a blank look.

“Why didn’t you get me proper non-stainable body paint to begin with?” Y/n shot back before getting up from where they’d been leaning over the bathroom sink. The white porcelain now splodged in blue.

“You’re gonna have to let that go.” He groaned out.

“Oh I will, but only when the blue fades.” Her words only caused his eyes to squeeze shut since it had taken a good couple of days for them to get the blue of their skin after the whole Smurf fiasco years ago.

“I think I might actually break something soon.” Y/n sighed out trying not to freak out when the zip on her dress wouldn’t go down, not sure if it was just the frustration or a bit of the alcohol they’d consumed during the party.

“As funny as it would be seeing a blue stained you smashing shit I’d prefer it not being my stuff.” Chenle answered back, moving closer.

“Help?” Chenle asked out without context knowing she knew what he meant.

Chenle only moved to grab the zip after seeing her nod from behind. It was already a bit open but had caught against fabric so he had to pry the material out from under the zip first beforehand.

“This is not what I expected to be doing after the annual Halloween party.” Y/n grumbled out as Chenle unzipped the back of her dress.

“What, you mean you don’t enjoy being a Smurf 2.0 while fighting with your dress around 11pm at night on the 31st of October with a guy dressed in an oversized suit?” Chenle practically snorted out.

“Next time I want to dress up as an introvert, and take my role seriously by staying at home and being a no show.” Y/n replied done with the day not caring Chenle was in the room as she slipped the dress off.

“You did your whole body!?” Chenle exclaimed, noticing the blue everywhere.

“Wow Lele, I was expecting a different kind of comment coming from you seeing me in my underwear but yeah, your stylist helped me paint myself so there’s that.”

“Well I’m not complaining about the view but that’s gonna take you at least two hours in the shower.”

“Not my water bill.” Y/n shrugged, moving over to the shower.

Chenle knew this could screw up everything, but then again she’d literally undressed in front of him. If not he could pass it off as a joke.

“Remember how I said two sets of hands are better than one?” Chenle suggested, following towards the shower.

“Your game is weak, but grab a loofa or something.” Y/n agreed amused.

“Should I grab the blue one?”

The only response he got was a bar of soap flung at him.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Tbh honest talking from experience blue body paint is hella hard to get off when it’s not a good brand, but PINK is so much worse 😭 I spent days looking like I was recovering from a nasty sunburn.

𝐁𝐨𝐨 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐰:

Tap

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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icallhimjoey · 9 months ago

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: we're getting closer and closer to jealous!joe making some weird and questionable choices, best be prepared - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe jolted awake at the sudden loud vibrations of his phone on his bedside table. The loud abrasive sound of it felt almost offensive to the silence of the rest of his flat. Joe twisted his head towards the sound too quickly and hurt his neck in the process. It was pitch black dark in his bedroom still, and Joe instinctively knew he’d not been asleep for that long.

He answered his phone without looking.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, already turning over the other way, squinting open one eye to press the speaker button.

“Hi,” you croaked back, and from the rustling of covers on your end of the line, Joe knew you weren’t outside his flat, waiting to be let in.

That happened sometimes. Where you called Joe just to tell him to buzz you up. He’d open the door with small squinty eyes and would silently shake his head at how silly you were for taking an Uber in the middle of the night, just to get a few hours of sleep in his bed with him.

This happened sometimes, too. Middle of the night phonecalls from bed.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Mmno, my pillow is hurting my ear and giving me a headache.”

It was a weak excuse to call him, and also, a fat lie. You weren’t kept up by a painful ear or a headache. You were kept up by your own brain, thinking of all things stressful in your life, and it was rude how Joe wasn’t there so you’d have other things to focus on. Like his heartbeat. Or his breathing.

You heard how Joe inhaled deeply. Not quite a yawn, but it served the same purpose. The sound instantly made you feel better.

“You’ve got like...” Joe fell silent a second as he rubbed a hand over his face, and you knew it took him longer to think straight just because he was half asleep still. “...eight pillows.”

“Four.” You sighed, eyes closing to Joe’s low gruff voice, and you felt how your shoulders relaxed into your mattress more. It was unfair how you hadn’t even been aware of how tensed up they were. Unfair how the baritone of someone speaking just above a whisper had your muscles relaxing like that.

“Four pillows.” Joe corrected himself.

There were a lot of pillows, was his point, and he was right. And all were very soft, too. The one you were lying on probably just needed a little fluffing, Joe thought.

You remained silent, just wanting to hear Joe breathe. It was the reason why you’d called him in the first place. Something to focus on besides your own thoughts inside your own head.

“Hmm? Grab a different one.” Joe was still on the painful ear fix. “Get comfy. And get another one to hug.”

That was actually good advice.

Joe listened as he heard swishing of fabric again, the sound of your skin over your duvet cover and soft linen against the cotton of your sheets, muffling sounds loud against the microphone. It took you some actual effort to wrestle one of your pillows underneath your covers, your arms far too tired to get it sorted in one swift move.

“Yea? That better?” Joe asked once he heard you’d settled.

“Mmhm.”

“Good girl. Now stop thinking about bad things.”

Joe knew you hadn’t called because of issues with the fucking bedding. It was always something else that kept you up. That had made you sad. That had you worried. It was why he always answered, no matter the time. Why he always let you in when you had already made your way over, never complaining at your cold body warming itself up to his. Joe was a good sport and would always pull you close, tuck you right into him, your face either pushed into his neck or laid gently onto his chest so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat.

You could always sleep just fine if you just stopped thinking for a second.

“Okay.” You answered, and pretended that it was easy to just follow the order.

And then for a while, it was just quiet.

Joe was falling back asleep, his mind already drifting off when he suddenly got pulled back into his consciousness by you softly requesting for him to move his phone closer to his face.

“Can barely hear you...”

“This better?” Joe said after scooting down his pillow a little.

You listened to check.

“Yea, tha’s better.” You hummed, happy to hear Joe’s steady breathing a little clearer, tightening your arms around the pillow in your grasp. The slow and steady in and out helped tremendously. “Don’t hang up, okay? I’ll hang up.”

“Hmm. Go to sleep.” Joe instructed in whispers.

“Can’t.” you murmured, the because you’re not here remaining unsaid, but you already sounded like you were barely even awake still. “My room’s not right.”

Joe couldn’t even begin to try to process that in the moment.

“I got you.” he promised, every word taking more and more effort to make its way out of his mouth. “Won’t hang up.”

“Okay.”

Hours later Joe woke up to his alarm and a stupidly low phone battery. He quickly hung up, praying that his alarm hadn’t traveled down the line to wake you.

He ran both his hands down his face, rubbing and pulling his skin in all directions before deciding he was going to have to figure out how to fix this nightly-phonecall thing.

You didn’t call him every night, but it was enough for it to not be normal. And if that wasn’t everything he was going for lately... normal.

Normal was difficult. Hard. But ultimately worth it, he knew.

He sort of loved it, these needy phonecalls, Joe couldn’t deny. He liked you vulnerable. He liked taking care of you when you felt small. But he’d rather you’d get some actual normal sleep. That you didn’t need to go lay down the minute you’d get home from work only to struggle with it when you were meant to get a long stretch of hours in at night. Not that he didn’t love watching you curl up onto his sofa, knees pulled all the way up into your chest, as he worked on the other side of the room. But sorting out a normal sleeping schedule for you seemed healthy. Healthier than whatever you had going now, anyway.

And you agreed.

It was why you were right in the middle of hauling all of your bedroom furniture across the hall when Joe came over late afternoon the next day.

“What’s going on here?” Joe asked after letting himself in, the key to your flat still on his keyring. You’d started this bit of having Joe hand over the key every time he used it, but you’d slip it right back into his coat pocket when he wasn’t looking.

You popped up from behind a chest of drawers, hair all over the place, eyes sort of manic.

“I’m moving!” you smiled widely and walked around to push the dresser into its new spot.

“You’re– .... into my bedroom?” Joe questioned as he stepped aside to let you get past him.

“Correction,” you said, disappearing into the room that still held most of your things. “Into my bedroom.”

Joe turned his head from your old bedroom to your new one and frowned a little.

“You’re giving up the ensuite?”

Joe vaguely remembered you telling him your room not being right, but this... this was a choice he wouldn’t have made. Advice he wouldn’t have given. His old bedroom was smaller and had south-facing windows, which was fine in winter, but also meant you always had a couple of sweating-on-top-of-the-covers weeks in summer.

“I know - ahh, she’s gone mad!” you said in a high pitched funny voice, huffing a laugh straight after. “Will you help me with the bed?”

No further explanation was given, and Joe dared not ask. You were moving bedrooms, your new future flatmate was going to be getting the bigger bedroom with the ensuite, and that was that.

“Sure.”

Joe took his coat off and pushed the long sleeves of his T-shirt up his forearms. You seemed excited over the prospect of change, sort of enthusiastically eager, all giddy, which was new to Joe. When he’d moved out, you’d hidden yourself away in your bedroom the whole time, and he remembered how terrible he’d felt. Guilt would’ve eaten him alive that day if he hadn’t had been so busy with the actual move then.

This was definitely better, but this also felt like a spur of the moment thing that maybe you’d regret later.

Joe hoped the regret would come before a new flatmate would, so at least you would be given the time and space to right the wrongs.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t help now. He could let you learn from your own mistakes. And, you know, maybe this would also help the general sleep issues you had going.

“Ready?” he asked, squatting down right next to you, hands on the frame.

You smiled at him a second, and he smiled right back. You had to bite at the insides of your cheeks for it to ease.

“Ready.”

About forty-five minutes later, you stepped into what used to be your bedroom and took a jog around the empty space.

“So empty! Look at all this room– it’s, wait…. echo! No. There’s carpet here.”

You laughed at yourself.

Silly.

“Of course that doesn’t work. But look!”

You kicked a leg high up in the air and swung your arms around widely.

“I could like… I don’t know, do aerobics in here!”

You kicked and punched the air some more and turned your moves into a strange dance as you took big steps around the room.

“I don’t know how to do aerobics.”

But clearly, that didn’t stop you.

Joe watched you from his spot, leant in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a stupid grin spread across his face that he couldn’t even try to hide.

God. You were really fucking cute.

Look at you.

His chest could barely handle it, he felt like he was about to burst.

“You know aerobics? Sounds like robots. Aerobots. Air robots.”

Your movements turned into robotic dance moves, the classic stiff arms that you turned into plane wings as you spun around. Joe laughed, no longer able to contain his joy, head thrown back, mouth wide open, and you used the sound as raw fuel for your own giggles.

You spun until you were dizzy, and you felt like a child.

When your vision start swimming and the room kept spinning even after you’d stopped, you let yourself fall onto the dusty carpet, flopping down right in the middle of the room.

Joe watched you come down for a moment, and he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as you stared up at the ceiling, slowly steadying your breathing.

When you turned your head to look at him, practically beaming still, it provoked him to launch himself onto the carpet right next to you. Joe pretended he was going to dive right on top of you, making you squeal and brace for impact, but he only bumped into your side as he laid down.

And then, for a short while, you just laid there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually you turned your heads to look at each other.

“You’re cute.” Joe smiled, his hand finding yours to intertwine his fingers with, and it made you scrunch up your nose.

“I’m being weird.” You corrected him, curling your fingers to dig your nails into his skin.

“Tomayto, tomahto.” Joe meant, same thing, and used his other hand over yours, pushing to flatten your finger tips and you laughed as his face contorted from the effort.

“Potayto, potahto.” You parrotted, trying your best to mimic Joe’s deeper voice, making him chuckle once more.

You were winning the weird hand-battle you had going, and Joe ended up pulling both hands away when you started trying to move them towards your mouth, teeth already bared.

“Yea, all right. Just weird.” Joe prodded a finger into your side when you sat up, making you yelp and prod him right back in his thigh.

“Do you think I can charge my new flatmate more rent for giving them the larger room with the ensuite?” you asked, looking around once more.

“Um... you’ve never paid more for it.”

“That’s not what I asked.” you said pointedly. “I asked, do you think I can?” you looked at him over your shoulder and your eyes twinkled with a mischief Joe hadn’t seen from you in a while.

“Well...” Joe sucked air through his teeth. “Maybe find a new flatmate first before you–”

“I did!”

Joe slowly blinked at you.

“You did?”

“Yea. Josh.”

Joe felt it then. A little twang inside of his chest. Something small, but definitely painful. Like someone had a teeny tiny guitar in there and pulled the thickest snare, the heavy plunk of vibrations slowly fading out, but never completely going.

Just a small little something that said, no, and it lingered.

And you were so nonchalant about it. Yea. Josh. Like it hadn’t just unearthed something disgustingly ugly inside of Joe. Like it hadn’t just bitten off and swallowed up a huge chunk of his joy. Like it wasn’t even a big deal at all.

Josh.

You shrugged up one shoulder, turning on the spot as you criss crossed your legs, explaining that one of your friends had given him your number to contact you about the flatshare. And yea, you’d been a little apprehensive, because a friend of a friend moving in and turning out to be a bad flatmate had every potential to ruin said friendship. But he’d stopped by that morning, and he seemed sort of normal. He also wasn’t 19 and hadn’t tried to get a sweet deal on his rent, which was refreshing.

“He’s moving in next week.”

Joe’s mind went all sorts of places then, but he managed to keep a straight face as he reached up to pull some dust from your hair.

“If you want to charge him more, maybe you should hoover first.” Joe held the fluffy piece of grey in between two fingers to show you.

“We can do that later.” You slapped one of Joe’s legs and used it to push yourself up onto your feet.

“We? Excuse me, I know I look extremely muscular–” that made you snort, which Joe skillfully ignored, “–but I came over for pizza and a film, not for hard manual labour! I’ve already done too much!”

Joe was not going to hoover Josh’s new bedroom for him.

He also thought you shouldn’t do that.

Josh could take care of that himself.

He was a big boy, surely.

Josh.

“Okay.” you smiled, holding out a hand to help Joe up. “Pizza and a film, then.”

And Joe immediately felt silly. He was going to spend the evening in his favourite spot, on the corner of your sofa, doing his favourite activity, sharing a pizza with you, and, you know, maybe Josh was actually really kind. You were a good judge of character, of course Josh was going to be kind. Joe had no business having an opinion of the man before even having met him.

He had moved out, hadn’t he?

That had been his choice.

His decision.

Rational thought was enough to will the uneasy feeling away. Rational thought dampened it enough to where he could no longer feel where exactly it sat within him, and he was able to swallow the sour taste it had left in his mouth.

But then Joe made sure to let you choose a pizza, let you get one with toppings that you really liked. Made sure to let you choose a film, something he’d never turn on had he been by himself.

Joe let you sit right in the corner of the L-shaped sofa, let you have the best spot.

Joe made sure it was a little more obvious that he thought of you first, and that he let himself be just an afterthought.

You happily accepted every sweet gesture and when you slung a leg over Joe’s lap after wrapping both your arms around one of his, Josh was no longer on his mind.

Just you.

How warm you felt. How soft you were. How much he loved this.

Loved you.

You hugged his bicep and watched the film Joe didn’t like, but the evening was perfect, because he got to press his nose into your hair as he held your thigh in place with both his hands. He hoped you’d fall asleep soon, just so he could stare at your soft features for however long he wanted without making you feel weird about it.

He was meant to home and sleep in his own bed tonight, another early morning for which his alarm had already been set.

But, fuck it.

If he was going to fall asleep on your sofa tonight, he was just going to fall asleep on your sofa tonight.

And if he was going to wake up hours later with a sore neck and painful knees from overstretching for too long, he was just going to have a sore neck and painful knees for a bit.

And then, if he would decide to pick you up from the sofa and carry you over to bed, he would just pick you up from the sofa and carry you to bed.

Slip right in there with you.

Why not?

Just for tonight. Because somehow, leaving you to sleep all alone, all by yourself in that big empty bed of yours, felt impossible right now.

If he wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that all your stuff was still in your bedroom and that all his stuff was still in his, he was just going to pretend. Just for a little while.

Joe had made his bed, had moved out and forced you to get a new flatmate, and now he was forced to go and lie in it.

But not tonight.

Tonight he could lie in your bed and pretend it was his own. His old bed in his old room that you had snuck into when he was already asleep.

Just for a little while.

Just for tonight.

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The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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jhuzen · 1 year ago

Note

if ur requests are open…virgin Kazuha with a player m!reader.

Reader made a bet with Beidou about how long it’ll take to get to fuck Kazuha since he’s one of the people on the Crux that the reader hasn’t fucked and Kazuha overhears.

He knows he shouldn’t give in, but he’s wanted the reader for so long so they end up fucking (and confessing feelings because I’m a romantic😭).

tip [m.reader]

actual title: [just the] tip, LMAO. I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD AND I’M BRINGING THREE SMUTS WITH ME. anyway. i think we all know when i say soon, it means 2 weeks later. fuck. i’m so sorry yall i do not know how to squeeze my brain for creativity. so the past two weeks, i’m just working out and gaming and illustrating. also i was halfway through the smut when i got the request for the player reader aND THATS WHEN IMAGINATION STRUCK. so anyway have this adorable samurai, tysm baby for letting me win your 50/50 again ilysm mwah.

𖦹 gentle sex, romantic stuff, they say ily in the end (and i am jealous), it’s been weeks since my last smut so bear with me, an attempt at an oral, fingering, penetration, lots of reassurances, top male reader

It all started with a simple bet between you and Beidou. She was the same captain that challenged you many times in drinking contests, after all (most of which, you’ve lost to her). And while you cannot exactly handle all of your alcohol like she can’t, no one could say the same when it comes to your visceral need to possibly get every living being on the bed with you.

It was a running joke between the entire crew. With your utterly promiscuous nature, you’ve managed to bed every bachelor and bachelorette on the Alcor. It was an amazing feat and an occurrence that happened so much, people would casually compare your performance with each other. Granted, it was embarrassing, but such is the price of being so… whorish.

Not a single soul was saved, even the sweet housekeeper from Mondstadt and his superior that were traveling to the nation of freedom to strike a deal with an elusive winery owner weren’t saved from your promiscuity. Beidou was already hurting from the sides from all the laughing she’s done once she realizes the fleeting glances between the two of them towards you were no mere coincidences.

But maybe not a single soul being saved was… an overstatement.

All of them weren’t safe except for one — the elusive ronin that frequently traveled with Beidou’s crew; Kaedehara Kazuha himself. For some reason, he was the one person that you couldn’t bed, and unfortunately for you, Beidou noticed. She noticed how your flirtatious flair would tone down, turning you into the most unassuming version of yourself that any of the Alcor has ever seen whenever you would entertain Kazuha up in the crow’s nest, a gentle smile on your lips instead of that knowing smirk that could leave anyone writhing.

Beidou already had an idea by then, but she decided to aid you in getting things moving as she made one bet to you.

“If you can get our romantic poet in bed with you, I will retract all drinking contests in the future.”

Your terms were flimsy and shallow. But you figured your liver would greatly appreciate the deal. And if you won, you only said that the captain would have to admit that, although untrue, you have, at some point, beaten her in one contest.

Had you only known what your dear little ronin has in store for you.

Kazuha, admittedly, is an absolute romantic. The verses in his poetry could not make that mere fact any clearer. His mind and heart can coordinate and weave the sweetest words lodged in limited verses that sing the sweetest praises to the unknown.

And often you were the victim of it. Kazuha was well aware of how subdued you seem around him, suddenly discarding the playboy persona that you were known around for, your very reputation that despite the efforts that Kazuha made in order to evade it, it still somehow managed to take the longest detour right to his heart.

You were a magnet that had limitless attraction Kazuha was just a drop in a sea of particles that continued to gravitate to you, despite his constant rumination that you were never going to be a constant in his life. He lives to seek every corner of the world while you discovered the uncharted parts of someone else’s bare skin in your endeavors.

How ironic was it that in his inconsistent lifestyle, he was terrified of having you — someone who is just as much of constant as his stays on places while he wandered through all nations.

But the tiny voice at the back of his head were screaming, pleading for a chance to even experience the atmosphere with you when wrapped in the haze of lust and sex.

It was probably why the moment he overheard your tiny wager with Beidou, the restraints that he kept on his poor longing heart suddenly loosened. And it was probably why the moment you amped up your flirtatious tendencies, Kazuha was suddenly breathless.

To experience of being the end of your smooth words was something Kazuha can only describe as what it feels like to get a taste of his own medicine. Suddenly, you were more forward, you didn’t wait for him to ask you and gaze at the skies with him on the crow’s nest. Everywhere he was, you were suddenly around, like a persistent python that coiled around him until he could no longer breathe — and he loved it.

Maybe it’s why your advances were easily reciprocated by him. Maybe it’s why all of a sudden, he wanted your hand to linger under his chin. Maybe it’s why, out of all his resistance to your charm, it all comes crashing down into a futile effort.

And maybe it’s also exactly why his heart hammered with persistence against his ribcage despite the ache in his knees as he knelt and did his best to suck you off with little to no experience under his belt.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast to meet Kazuha’s teary eyes. He was already ruined just from this, mouth barely able to take in more of you. But you were a persistent teacher, and he was an eager student.

A smirked played upon your pretty lips, hand gliding over to Kazuha’s soft cheek before pinching it, stretching his mouth just a little bit more as you slowly pushed your hips, watching your cock make it barely even halfway through Kazuha’s mouth.

You were used to the experienced men that could take you in skillfully even with your size, but the inexperience was somewhat of a breath of fresh air — if not, utterly adorable. The way his tongue refused to stay flat while your cock pushed in, his teeth grazing against your sensitive head ever so slightly, and archons, those lovely tears that glistened through his wet eyelashes as the honorable ronin looked up at you for any form of approval.

“You’ve no idea how incredibly delectable you look right now, love.” Your smooth voice filled his ears and he hummed, pleased from the praise, leaving you hissing as the vibrations from his mouth enveloped your cock.

“Think you can manage a few more inches?” You asked with a curious grin.

Kazuha doesn’t think so, but the innate need to please you and seek your praise was something he quickly found out the moment you stripped him of his robes and adored his body with your sweet words. He nodded, a little unconvincing, a little reluctant, and a little nervous.

You guided his hands that rested on your thighs to grip the base of your length, “For better leverage,” you said, though quite true, it was equally just an excuse to feel his cute little hands around you.

The ronin nodded once more before pushing further, dipping his head until he can take more of you. His cheeks burned and the moment the tip of your head hits the back of his throat, Kazuha immediately pulls back, coughing. You ran your hand through his hair, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Too much?”

Kazuha’s lips were wet from his own saliva. He opened his eyes to see a tiny sinful string of saliva that connected his lips to your cockhead. He looked up at you with so much determination, almost eager to try again, and while it was immensely adorable, you decided to take pity on Kazuha as you pulled him up to your lap.

“I-I can do more…”

“And we’ll work on that next time,” you said with the same soft reassurance that he has heard from you every time you and Kazuha would engage in a conversation. But it wasn’t what made his heart jump — it was the fact that you opened up the possibility of a next time for him. A possibility that this isn’t a one time thing as he feared.

Before he could even process anything else, his back hits the soft mattress beneath him. It should have been intimidating, but to see tower over him with such a huge figure, Kazuha could only feel the unbridled warmth that radiated from you. He waited with bated breath as you looked down on him, a smile so inviting that it doesn’t even remotely feel like he was participating in a bet, that you were making love to him so tenderly instead.

“Think it’s time for me to finally take care of you, hm?” Your soft croon reached his ears and he could only nod, meek yet still so bloody excited for what happens next.

He could feel his breath get caught in his throat the moment your hands easily opened his legs, and he willfully complied despite how his thighs quivered under your grasp. He watched seat yourself in between his legs, watching you open up that one familiar package of lubricant. You squeezed a generous amount on your fingers before turning to him.

“Try to relax, yeah?”

“M-Mhm…”

Kazuha doesn’t question the way his back immediately arched up as his body responded to your fingers that slowly penetrated him. He could feel the coldness and he shivered, squirming at the tight fit. He could feel it all too much. His hand immediately shot up to latch onto your strong shoulders while he let out a strangled gasp.

Your little samurai was all too enticing, “My~ what a mess I’ve made you, and just from my fingers alone too…” You laughed and Kazuha can only whimper closing his eyes shut to avoid any further embarrassment, though it was clearly futile by then.

Your slowly pumped your fingers, feeling out Kazuha’s gummy walls. He clenched on your fingers with every movement, leaving him writhing against the sheets. It was a sensation that he was all too new in experiencing. His soft gasps and quiet whines echoed through the walls of the remote inn that you graciously paid for under the guise of taking shelter with your travel companion.

Kazuha cried out your name so sweetly, and it was as if the heavens are calling you.

“[Name]… m-more…” he pleaded with a tiny voice, barely managing while your fingers continued to penetrate through his walls that continued to pulsate around your digits. You indulged in every moan that spilled from his lips as you pumped your fingers even more.

You licked your lips, eyeing the samurai in bliss so hungrily. He was ethereal even when he’s a complete mess with sweat cascading through his soft skin and his hair completely tousled as he continued to squirm from your ministrations alone. You drank the very sight of him and you couldn’t wait to take him then and there.

A choked gasp suddenly weaseled out of him as your fingers finally grazed his prostate.

“H-Hah—!” You watched in fascination as your endeared ronin came just from that alone. Cum dripped down from his cock, making a tiny pool on his abdomen. Kazuha was breathless, his body quivering in inconsistent intervals as he reached his high all too early. He looked at you, just as surprised as you are.

“O-Oh… D-Did I—? Already?” Kazuha’s embarrassment was unparalleled, but you were quick to quell that as you leaned in, showering his heaving chest the most chaste kisses, filled with so much care and love that were absent from your times with others. No amount of sweetness could amount to your shallow ones when it wasn’t Kazuha.

“You treat it like it’s a problem,” you chuckled and Kazuha’s face flushed at your playful chastising. Of course it must be a problem. One too many he’s heard about people lasting in bed a better feat when it comes to sex. But you were quick to refute the little beliefs he had. “It only means I’m making you feel good, no?”

Kazuha nodded, speechless for once at such a gentle treatment. He’s heard from the accounts of others just how rough you can be, some men even having to complain about it to you openly, while you only gave a tiny apology before slithering away. But this, even Kazuha wasn’t too certain if this was something new for you or if you thought that he was too fragile to handle you. He griped to himself at the thought and he quickly grabbed onto your wrist.

“I-I’m ready,” he muttered, giving you the full green light.

You have half a mind to question him for a second time, but his look of determination and your own cock that only throbbed painfully against your abdomen was enough to persuade you.

Kazuha could only look on, his eyes widening when his struggles earlier to take you in just with his own mouth came back to bite him in the ass. He looked up, a little frantic as the anxiety only flooded through him — he could barely suck you off without suffocating, how could he take you in so easily.

You only leaned to kiss at the shell of his ear, as gentle as you can, “Don’t worry, we’ll stop if you can’t.”

His arms were quick to hook around your neck, looking down and quivering a little as he felt the way your cockhead brushed against the rim of his entrance, prodding at him with so much temptation. “But… I don’t want it to stop…” he mumbled, only making you laugh at such a sweet sentiment.

“One at a time, mkay? It’s your first time,” You whispered as you slowly lined up, your shaft already prodding at Kazuha’s lubed up hole. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha only nodded, surrendering control to you to take care of him.

It wasn’t a mistake to be so near him as your ears indulged in Kazuha’s sweetest cries as you slowly eased yourself in. You didn’t bother going all the way as you felt him clench around you even with just a few inches in. It was adorable, remotely endearing as you continued a couple more inches.

“W-Wait,” he was quick to plead, and you stopped, listening intently to his whims.

“Why don’t we practice with just this much, hm?” It wasn’t even a surprise as Kazuha quickly agreed, eager to follow you. He succumbed into the submission of being under your control, to let you do as you please to him and you relished in that very permission to take in every bit of him even the slowest ways.

You drew out some quiet sobs from poor Kazuha as your hips drew back, only to stop just before you could pull out. Your sensitive head alone could even feel the slightest bumps within his walls and it was absolutely divine.

Kazuha hiccuped through his tears despite your shallow, languid thrusts — barely even fully inside and yet he’s already so spent. You could feel every gasp getting pulled out from his system with how his cock seemed to brush against your abdomen with every movement.

“Feels good?” You asked and he only nodded — quite frankly it was a miracle that Kazuha could even still make of what you can say.

“D-Deeper, [Name],” Kazuha begged, coming out in a tiny mewl that you couldn’t seem to refuse.

You followed through his demand, letting in a couple more inches inside and he was squealing so wantonly. The way his walls clenched onto your length, he could feel every sinful throb within his tight warm walls and he couldn’t help but squirm, inching away from your cock when you held him down.

“You can do it, you’re a good boy, yes?” You smiled, your thrusts slowly growing deeper and deeper until it left him writhing underneath you. You could feel the delectable scratch on your broad back as he clutched onto you for dear life.

“M-Mhm… a good boy,” he parroted, his mind numbing with each thrust, his hips slowly meeting your movement as the fervent need to feel you grew inside him.

You were just as easily losing it as your hips moved in a steady pace. Never had you even been this gentle on someone even — but somehow Kazuha brought it out of you. Your soft grunts melded with his delectable moans as you moved your head, lips just a hair distance away from him.

And then it spills from your lips;

“Fuck… I love you so much…”

Kazuha’s eyes snapped open and you immediately stopped your movements, your cock still inches deep inside your little ronin.

A wave of clarity washed over Kazuha as the realization hit you both.

“You mean it?” He asked, love in his eyes with so much anticipation.

You only laughed as you leaned in, “Couldn’t get anymore obvious with that,” you quipped, all too amused as the blush overtook Kazuha’s face down to his neck. A little taken aback, but he only smiled, bringing you in close for a sweet kiss.

“Well, I share the sentiment.” Kazuha mumbled, his breath ghosting over your lips as a lovestruck expression completely took hold of his pretty face.

“Would it kill you to say it back?”

“I love you too.”

You only showed your satisfaction with your lips on his, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of his waist as you lifted him up. A needy whimper was pulled out of Kazuha’s throat as you thrusted one more time, a mischievous and eager smile grazing your face.

You were going to show Kazuha so much more.

And lucky for you, you’ve got the whole night to express that love to each other.

#can you hear me crying because i’ve never felt so single #NEXT ONE #we’re gonna be screwing two dragons in their own separate fics #ofc ofc #genshin impact x male reader #kaedehara kazuha x male reader #kazuha x male reader #kazuha smut #sub genshin impact #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #jhuzen’s shameless filth

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