#but they never came clean about what that meant
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Getting married to ekko
short drabble
requested by anon
There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.
In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasnât traditional, it couldnât be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.
Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his bestâa patched-up jacket youâd once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.
Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. âAlright, settle down!â he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. âWeâre here for somethinâ special tonight. None of your usual fightinâ or stealinâ, this is about family.â
The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekkoâs gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.
Scar cleared his throat dramatically. âNow, I ainât exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when youâve got love, right?â The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. âSo, letâs get to it. You two got somethinâ to say?â
Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. âI never thought Iâd get to have somethinâ like this,â he began. âNot here, Youâyouâve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. Youâre my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when itâs too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, Iâll always fight for us.â
You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words youâd wanted to say fought to escape. âAww!,â you said, your voice trembling slightly. âYouâve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, thereâs beauty worth fighting for. Youâve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. Iâm yours, forever.â
The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. âHold on, hold on! We havenât even gotten to the good part yet.â He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring heâd made.
It wasnât like any ring youâd ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the bandâtiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekkoâs work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.
âYou made this?â you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.
âCourse I did,â he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. âNothing else felt good enough for you.â
Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. âAlright, lovebirds, thatâs it! Youâre officially stuck with each other.â
Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.
The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.
Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. âYou know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.â
You laughed, leaning into him. âMight be?â
âOkay, fine. Is the best day,â he admitted, his grin softening.
As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. âHey,â he said, his tone still soft. âCanât believe we are official married now!â
You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. âUnreal that i can officially call you my husband.â
For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.
note. if thereâs any mistakes let me know!
taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon
banner. @anitalenia
#arcane masterlist#arcane ekko x reader#ekko fics#ekko imagines#ekko fluff#arcane ekko#ekko arcane#ekko x reader#ekko league of legends#ekko#firelight ekko#arcane fic#arcane drabbles#arcane imagine#arcane x female reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x gender neutral reader#arcane x you#arcane x reader#arcane characters#reader insert
450 notes
·
View notes
Text
sweethearts [ johnny âsoapâ mactavish ]
johnny âsoapâ mactavish x f!reader
You had known him forever. Since nursery school and all the time in between.
John MacTavish- though, you called him Johnny. And in later life, that turned into calling him âSoapâ.
He had been gunning for that uniform since you were 15 and he was 16⊠falsifying his age only to fail miserably.
It was culture shock to when he left when he was 18⊠he was your first friend, first kiss, first young love. Yet, it was nothing official. Just two best friends experimenting with each other. You couldnât have asked for a better person.
You were there when he came back- more of a man than the boy who left. All of him larger than before even that indicative smile. But HE hadnât changed, still the same snack eating, football loving Scotsman.
That meant your attraction for him was worse than ever- having been in love with Johnny for most of your life. His sky bursted gaze enough to drive you crazy.
Someone like him would never feel the same about you- strictly friends.
Mates who got mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend most days of the week. Neither of you minded it but it was always you who persisted the, âas if⊠he drives me insaneâŠâ the pining kind of insanity.
His return led you to distance yourself, an insecure freshly turned 18 year old, distracting herself from the boy next door. Johnny could do much better for friends than you, he was the youngest SAS recruit to pass the selection.
HE COULD DO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU.
You didnât even go say goodbye to him when he left for his first mission- somewhere youâd never know.
Instead, he came to you. Stood at your doorstep.
His face gloomy, âSo you werenâ even gonna say goodbye?â Not knowing what to do, your shoulders shrugged and silence ensued. âYouâve been off for weeks, when was the last time we had a movie night? Is it because of the training? Me leavinâ?â
Fingers picking at your nails; youâd never been nervous around him. But this was the first time seeing him in god-knows how long, when you hadnât spent a day away from each other. âI donât know, John- ,â
âYou do know and thatâs the problem, Y/N, because you wonât bloody tell me what Iâve done wrong,â he spoke harsher than intended, regretting it within an instant as your stepped forward- sizing the six foot something soldier up.
Staring up at him, âWhy do you bother with me when you could have anybody around you? Iâm not going anywhere with my life!â It wasnât envy that spurred you on, it was the fact he was going to leave you.
Heartbroken and yearning. Lost without the boy who had always bolstered you up when you had been thrown to the ground.
Johnnyâs eyes welled with tears, âWhatâs made you think that?â
In a whisper, âYouâve just gotten into the fucking SAS, JohnnyâŠâ
âSo what? Iâm still the same guy⊠nothingâs ever gonna change me⊠you should know that by nowâŠâ
You wanted things to change- the dynamics between you. Before he found somebody who would knock him off his feet and youâd never get the chance.
His fingers trailed your arm, before he cupped your hand. Blue coveted your vision, âNothingâs goinâ to change us, youâre my absolute best mateâŠâ
Like a dagger, he struck a nerve, âMaybe I donât want to be your âbest mateâ, Iâm sick of pining for you when clearly youâll never feel the same way,â a quick pause, âGo and find a pretty gir- ,â Before you knew it, his kiss smothered you. More intimate than when you were twelve, with more intent.
Instead of resisting, you caved in. Hands balanced holding his jawline, clean shaven.
Exploring every inch of your body in that hurried kiss. It was better than anything you had dreamed.
Before you pulled away first, âYouâre my everything, Y/NâŠâ Thumbs rubbing circles at your waist. âI cannot tell you how long Iâve wanted to do thaââŠâ
The memory ran writhe in your brain. That was 8 years agoâŠ
Since then you were happily married with a baby on the way. Johnny had been deployed for over a month. Today he was supposed to be returning- from where you didnât have a clue but he always came home safely.
Thatâs what mattered.
You expected the phone to start buzzing, the usual unknown number saying to go to the airport. Instead, a knock at the door.
It was like him not to want to run you around pregnant. But it was Simon who answered the door.
Not able to help the tremble. Air caught in your throat, choking on nothing. âHeâs not⊠is he?â Stopping those tears from coming down- clutching your belly.
Youâd have fallen to your knees- had it not been for capable hands.
You looked up, blue eyes for days and a face contorted worriedly, âWhat did you say, to âer, LT?â He held you close, but it would never be enough for you. âYou and munchkin okay?â He rubbed your large stomach.
You crushed him in your arms. âDarlinâ, Iâm a bit tenderâŠâ Only then did you notice the sling in his arm, a bandage skirting beneath his shirt.
âWhat happened?â He shook his head, a grin on his face.
One of nervousness, âIt could have been a lot worse,â Simon was as gruff as usual. You would never be allowed to know what happened.
âIâm just glad youâre safe and sound,â Thumb rubbing along longer stubble on his cheek, there was more to the story than either him or Simon were telling you. âYou too, Si, thanks for taking care of him.â Spoken wholeheartedly, âDinners on, you can stay if you want?â
He accepted as he usually did. The mood held less tension as time went on. You came to the conclusion that you were lucky to have Johnny in front of you, laughing at some stupid dad joke Simon said.
All you did was sit there, looking at the guy you had loved all your life.
Your JohnnyâŠ
ââââ
I contemplated đ Johnny but I couldnât bring myself to do it. Heâs just too sweet and just too tragic to write.
Thank you for reading :) xx
ââââ
masterlist
#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#soap mw2#soap mw3#john soap mactavish#cod mw3#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#cod#cod mwii#cod mw x reader#mw2
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
The First Fenton-Drake Thanksgiving (ft. Ghosts, Bats, and Pure Chaos)
So, Tim Drake and Danny Fenton got married. No one really knows how it happenedâjust one day, Tim came home from a mission with a ring on his finger, introduced Danny as his husband and left the batfamily spiraling.
Now, it's their first Thanksgiving together. And of course, things couldn't just be normal.
-----------
Dannyâs Idea of Thanksgiving: Quiet. Just them. Maybe a simple meal. Chill. Relaxed.
Timâs Idea of Thanksgiving: Invite everyone. And he meant everyone.
-----------
Cue the chaos:
The Guest List:
The entire Batfamily (enthusiastically invited by Tim)
The Fentons (Jack, Maddie, and Jazzâarmed with ghost-hunting gadgets)
A few ghosts from the Infinite Realms (because Tim insisted they needed to âexperience traditionsâ)
Possibly some rogue League of Assassins members (Tim says itâs complicated)
-----------
The Day Begins:
Danny wakes up to the smell of... way too many things cooking. Not a good sign.
He stumbles into the kitchen, eyes widening. âTim, why are there three turkeys?â
Tim, flipping pancakes: âOptions. Weâve got regular, ectoplasm-infused, and vegetarian.â
Danny: rubbing his temples âTim, it was supposed to be just us.â
Tim: innocent smile âI thought youâd enjoy the company.â
-----------
The Fentons Arrive:
Jack: âSmells great in here, Tim!â Maddie: examining the ectoplasm turkey âYou said this enhances flavor? Whatâs the biochemical process behind it?â Tim: âItâs... complicated.â Maddie: pulls out a notepad âI need to run some tests later.â Jack: âAre we talking ghost science?!â Danny: facepalms âHere we go.â Jazz: âDanny, are you okay?â Danny: staring at the chaos âI... guess.â
-----------
The Bats Show Up:
Dick: âThis is amazing, Tim! You went all out.â Danny: whispers âPlease take some of them home.â Jason: âI brought pie. And also whiskey.â Tim: âPerfect.â
Damian: eyeing the ectoplasm turkey âThis looks... unnatural.â Tim: âYouâll love it.â Danny: groans âI need a nap.â
-----------
Ghostly Guests:
Ember is playing loud rock music in the living room.
Skulker has taken it upon himself to hunt the fourth turkey.
Technus has hacked the TV to show every football game at once.
Bruce is trying to make small talk with a glowing ghost. Itâs not going well.
-----------
Meanwhile, the Fentons:
Maddie is way too interested in the contraptions and safety measurements Tim and Danny have added to their home, asking Tim about each one. Jack keeps trying to bond with Jason. (âSo, you came back from the dead? Letâs compare notes!â) Jazz is refereeing between Damian and Dani, who are debating weapon efficiency.
-----------
Talia Shows Up:
Because of course she does.
Talia: âTimothy. I see youâve outdone yourself.â Danny: whispers âWhy is she here?â Tim: sighs âItâs complicated.â
Talia: smirking âI brought dessert.â Danny: â... Is it poisoned?â Talia: âOnly if you want it to be.â
-----------
The Dinner Table:
The ectoplasm turkey definitely glows.
Jack Fenton accidentally sets a dinner roll on fire.
Damian challenges Dani to a duel... over dessert.
Bruce is visibly regretting every life choice.
Dick: âThis is... surprisingly fun.â Jason: âI love this level of chaos.â Danny: mutters to Tim âIâm never letting you plan Thanksgiving again.â
Tim: smirking âYou love it.â Danny: grumbling â... Maybe.â
-----------
After Dinner:
The ghosts attempt to help clean up. (They make it worse.)
The Fentons try to âanalyzeâ the batfam. Bruce retreats.
Skulker and Jason are still debating hunting methods.
-----------
Later, on the Rooftop:
Finally alone, Danny and Tim look out over the city.
Danny: âYou really went all out.â Tim: âYou deserve a big celebration.â Danny: smiles âIt was... chaotic. But fun.â
Tim: quietly âWelcome to the family, Danny. All of it.â Danny: smiles wider âThanks, Tim. Even if theyâre... a lot.â
Tim: grinning âNext year, bigger?â Danny: laughs âYou know youâre lucky I love you.â
Tim: grinning âYeah. I know.â
#tim drake#danny fenton#danny phantom#brain dead#dead tired#batfam#dc x dp#thanksgiving post#the bats and fentons celebrate thanksgiving together courtesy of the married couple who host the holiday#married life between tim and danny is chaotic
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
Lucifer gulped and pulled at his collar: Uh... y-you don't think you'd want to come over-?
Charlie: Dad. Now.
Lucifer: Yes. Yes, right... Adam... well, you see. A few months ago, we met for our annual meeting, and it was going great! Wonderful! Amazing-!
Charlie: Dad.
Lucifer: Oops. Sorry, hun. I-I didn't mean to keep Adam. I just... didn't want him taking Avery away- I lost him once, I failed you, I couldn't fail her... I couldn't let her go.
Lucifer felt himself tear up, knowing that his daughter was gone, he didn't even get to say goodbye. To her or Adam.
Charlie: D-Daughter? She's... how?
Lucifer: A few months ago, I saw Adam at a bar we went to. H-He was fucking around! Blending in! I... I wanted to fuck with him- so I spent some time with him, got him drunk- but I had such a good time, Charlie... even though he knew it was me, he was... kind and funny. I really enjoyed my time with him... it almost felt like there was no bad blood between us. Then he said he wanted to go home with me. So, that's where we went. And I'm sure you can guess the rest...
Charlie was silent for a moment: I thought Adam was a man- how? How did you-?
Lucifer: I may be the Devil, but I used to be an angel. And angels cause the human male body to... do some weird things. I knew there could have been a chance- but I thought it could be funny! He was such as asshole to your mother! And who knows what he was like eith Eve-! She had over nine hundred kids, Charlie! I-I thought it would be funny...
Charlie sighed: It's not funny, dad. He's a man. He's not meant to have children. That's not what he was made for.
Lucifer: I know... I know. I didn't think anything came of it! I never saw him, not until our last meeting. I could barely tell anything had changed- his robe is so... robey. B-But he... he just- looked so uncomfortable and looked in pain at times. When he went to leave- he curled over! He nearly collapsed, Charlie! Then he told me... we went to Sloth- and... she's beautiful, Charlie. She looks like him. Like his twin. She's just... gorgeous. Like you. I could see you in her. In her eyes.
Lucifer covered his mouth, feeling tears come to his eyes. He knew he wasn't the best father. He didn't know what to do if she kept crying or wouldn't eat or sleep, but he loved her so much.
Charlie: Oh, dad... I'm so sorry.
Lucifer: I-It's okay, Charlie. She's holy... I don't know how, but she is. She can go to Heaven. And... and that's where she belongs. To be safe. To be loved. She deserves blue skies and clean are... not... this. You deserve it too, Char. So much. I hate that you had to live through exterminations. I hate that you had to deal with my horrible relationship with your mother. I-I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't do right by you! I failed you- and now I'm failing her!
Charlie: Dad- breathe. You didn't fail me. You've been so wonderful to me. And I know you love me, I can feel it.
Charlie looked at Vaggie, who was looking concerned. She definitely wasn't happy about learning that Adam was in Hell.
She wiped her eye as she heard Lucifer cry.
Charlie: Dad- dad, I'm coming over. Just me, okay?
Lucifer: ...p-please Charlie. Please come over, I-I need you.
Charlie quickly started packing some things into a bag.
Charlie: I'm coming, dad. I'll even pick up those little pastries you like, okay?
Lucifer: Okay Charlie- thank you.
Charlie: You're welcome. Okay, I'll see you soon. I love you, dad. So much.
Lucifer: I-I love you, Charlie. And I'm so sorry for everything.
Charlie: Don't be sorry, dad. We've moved on from those years- you've more than made it up to me.
Lucifer broke down after Charlie hung up. He missed his Avery so much. He missed both of his daughters. He even missed Adam.
He hates being alone again. Somehow, he always ended up alone. He tries so hard, with everyone, but they always leave.
Is this how Adam felt in Eden?
That made Lucifer feel even worse. He ruined his best friend. The loneliness changed him for the worse, and Lucifer could feel it changing him, too.
What about an au where Adam goes to Hell for night trips, wher ehe just parties and fucks. He has a disguise (it's just a slightly different looking helmet).
Lucifer joins his daughter and her friends at a bar, where he sees "Adam". He instantly knows it's him, but he's curious as to what he's doing.
So Lucifer spends hours flitting with him and buying him drinks to get him drunk. But Lucifer actually finds himself having a great time.
Long story short- they fuck, Adam doesn't let Lucifer know he's Adam. He goes back to Heaven and after a few months, he finds out he's pregnant.
Which is fucking weird cause he's definitely a dude, and he's very dead. But Lucifer's the Devil đ€·.
He basically has to play it off as him getting fat. It's working until the next meeting with Lucifer happens during his ninth month, and he's goes into labor right in front of Lucifer.
Lucifer: Why didn't you tell me your were fucking pregnant!?
Adam: Because you didn't know it was me!!
Lucifer: Yes I did! You have the same face!
Adam: ..... Oh..
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is foul
#something something sam is the only person dean refers to in the context of having#and no pamela already said he didn't wanna have her he was just flirting to distract himself#but they never came clean about what that meant#then the finale happens and dean uses the exact words of âhaveâ#and it's aimed at sam because of course it is#happy pride month from the incest king#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#samdean#wincest#mine#pamela
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#listen I know this is insane and parasocial and crazy#right?#Iâm aware Iâm in the wrong here#but#Iâve loved Taylor swift since I was like ten years old#and during her 1989 era she did an interview where she said if calories didnât count sheâd eat chicken tenders#years later she came out and said that during that time in her life she was struggling with ED and was miserable#and was recovering#and has been open about the fact that sheâs continued to struggle but is choosing to heal#and sheâs been like one of the only public figures to actually talk about ed in a way that actually meant anything to me#and itâs not my business it doesnât matter ok it doesnât fucking matter and I wouldnât say this to her or anyone or w ever#but she was just at a football game eating chicken tenders#and man#itâs not about me itâs not my business and doesnât effect me in ANY way#but GOD I wanted to cry#bc I feel like sometimes itâs not ever worth it and you never really recover and no matter how hard you try#recovery is unobtainable in any permanent way and you can be clean for days or weeks or months or YEARS#but it never really goes away not really you just kinda have to decide one day that healing is worth more now than how painful#and difficult and humiliating recovering is#and MAN itâs NOT about me and I shouldnât care about what a billionaire is eating for lunch because it doesnât effect me#and itâs invasive and parasocial and kinda gross to even know that shit about her#but god idk why her stupid chicken tenders and semingly ranch are making me cry#I hope she loved her chicken tenders I hope they were amazing I hope she didnât even think twice about eating them#but if she did - because I feel like I always will- Iâm glad she chose to get them anyway#itâs so hard to explain bc it feels so stupid lol#fuckin ranch too goddamn lol
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I met a girl when I was fresh out of high school in undergrad who frankly, annoyed me quite a bit, but I also had an inkling to continue to be compassionate to her given a few things about her life/background/family
I ran into her two years ago. Last week, her daughter turned 1. This girl, letâs called her âPâ, is a really good example of why I never feel comfortable mocking trad wives
Her perfect trad husband, who was a shining young figure in the local religious community, volunteered in all sorts of groups, well loved in his workplace and everything else, beat her up at 1 month post-partum. I reached out to her after seeing her desperately asking for a stroller on a page, confused and slightly concerned knowing both of them came from wealthy backgrounds.
The reality for lots of tradwives living âperfect livesâ is this: P was immediately ostracised. All the wealth of her husband and her family meant absolutely nothing if she wasnât in favour and doing what she was told. Her child and her well-being didnât matter. P, at 25 years old, was basically deemed an oopsie, and left on her own to figure out how to pay for herself, a baby, find housing, and every other task you can think of.
Having known many of these women (and supported many of these women), another factor most people donât consider is this: they are intentionally raised to be helpless. When I immediately offered my support to P, she really needed it. This young woman needed to be guided through how to apply for government assistance, how to weigh up rentals and apply for them, how to apply for jobs, how to sign up for childcare. How to sign up for your own power and internet, and how to connect them.
It wasnât that she was âstupidâ, or incapable, or spoiled. While it looks like theyâre being sheltered, in reality, these women are practically being held hostage. Sure, they might be allowed to learn things that are expected of them (see: basic cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, womenâs bible studies, hosting, and so forth) but they are heavily controlled from family life into marriage life, and they are never given the opportunity or the reality of what many of us would consider basic adult tasks.
Sheâs doing okay now. Her daughter turned 1, is happy and healthy. They live frugally, but they have a roof over their heads and the essentials. I often babysit for her so she can attend counselling, or go to a womanâs support group. She is painfully aware that she has so much to learn about how to live as an adult.
I donât envy tradwives, but I donât find any joy in mocking them either. Even when they live the most picturesque lives, theyâre also practically living a real life Jenga game. If (and often, when) it comes tumbling down, theyâre screwed too, and they often have 0 skills to help themselves or find community (that again, isnât carefully curated).
#if anything I would say I pity the majority of them#material living aside - what an awful way to live.#katie rambles#tw domestic violence#tw abuse#ask 2 tag
19K notes
·
View notes
Text
Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, theyâre always tweaking and innovating and youâll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.
Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and theyâre a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned weâd take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.
To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as⊠forthright about the used bed situation)
In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.
Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didnât sell, especially old models that salespeople werenât familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.
Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds Iâd never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and theyâd been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if weâd had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.
When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.
The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed theyâd laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.
I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they werenât bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what Iâd done.
âYou sold the death bed?!â He asked in delight.
I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. âWhatâŠ?â
âDidnât you check the notes?â
I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. âWasnât it just a floor model? You said it was a floor modelâŠâ
He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.
It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because itâs owner had passed away.
I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. âThey signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.â
âWe know for a fact that a man died in that bed!â
âWhat they donât know canât haunt them,â he said philosophically.
The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.
#ramblies#ffs foibles#that sale was over ten thousand dollars#and I made a thousand dollars in that one sale#I cried about it later because I couldnât even conceive of making that much money#story#writing#funny
27K notes
·
View notes
Text
Anyway, hope you're all doing well
I just... I haven't slept and also I've got like... 2-4 days of tumblr to catch up on... mostly to make sure I don't lose anything I want to keep requeuing
In many ways I'm probably doing better than I have been in a long time... maybe ever, but... I've got zero focus, I can barely watch youtube videos, I certainly can't play games... I can't get myself to clean... I don't know man
It's like... it's like my mind's empty except for some thick clear goopy sludge... it's like being over at a strange house sat alone in a big room waiting for people to come back... not wanting to touch anything so you just sit there staring and feeling out of sorts, except it's just constant in my own house in my own room... just saw Bart flop down in front of my door and realized I'm so out of it I forgot I had cats
It's like I'm living every moment in the moment, but not in a peaceful way, in a I'm untethered from reality and trying to figure out plans or how to deal with getting everything sorted out is just kinda painful kinda way
Then my mood... well... I kinda have no mood. I'm fucking numb if I'm honest. I have flavor opinions like "I'm worthless and should kill myself", but I actually don't even feel depressed right now, I feel nothing
I don't see much point to my future even if everything goes great, and I would like to kill myself, but I have zero interest in even considering it right now even though I have everything I need around if I just stand up and take a single step
So... much as it probably sounds like I'm just pure in the trash right now, I'm actually in many ways probably doing better than I ever have before... I'm just also real messed up right now at the same time
I don't feel hopeful, I never feel hopeful, but I do feel like I can maybe guide shit into a good position, it's just once again I figure that even if I do everything I want to with being able to help other people out and stuff, I'll still just kinda end up alone in a crowd
You know... funny thing is I'm thinking "the fuck is even the point I wanted to make?", and I realize... my point was actually that I'm doing pretty good and not to worry... not sure how well I'm selling it, but it's true
I hesitate to assign anything to myself, my stance on me and anything I can't conclusively say tends to be no comment... but if I were looking at someone else describing what I'm feeling in my position, I might be inclined to say burnout... months of having to be on and clean and manage everything and... all that... well it's one explanation, who knows if it's correct
Anyway though, I'm good, don't worry, know I do appreciate you all and wish I had more brain power to say more to more people... it's just maybe kinda sad that this is my version of doing good... the fuck is wrong with me if I wake up everyday feeling like I've been beaten with clubs... and for me this is kinda peak... what's that say about my baseline?
Doesn't matter, only thing to do is keep moving forward
Guess insomnia paired with not really being able to think, like words just kinda pop out with no planning... guess it makes me ramble real bad, this was supposed to be like one or two paragraphs being positive
It's a Beautiful World
#mm tag so i can find things later#to be clear; I'm referencing the Devo song; and if you know the song... that's kinda a negative thing to say#it's a beautiful world... for you... it's not for me#that's the sentiment I express when I say that; just to avoid confusion... though... confusion I can't deny is also kinda the point#I like hiding things in plain sight; I like lies of omission#...but also... is it so bad to try and let people think I'm being more positive than I am seeing as people have a problem with how I am?#makes them sad; you know?#I'm not even meaning to be negative; I'm just trying to lay out my thoughts so people don't have to read my mind#I think people will probably read this and take it as extremely negative but... it more just is#my brain feels broken right now... that's not meant as doom and gloom... just a statement of fact#people always seem to worry about me... but... they kinda... worry about the wrong stuff#...they kinda... it's like if someone was really worried cause I skinned my knee and it looked real gross but was pretty surface#and I just couldn't get them to stop focusing on that and listen to the fact I had internal bleeding and that was much worse#it's not the fact I want to kill myself that's the problem; it's not that I can often be melancholic#it's all the systemic issues going on... the isolation; the... never feeling like I succeed... that kinda thing; you know?#the money and the getting things stabilized#even if life goes perfect and I even somehow get the stuff I think is literally impossible for me to get that I want so bad#...good chance I'll still be kind of melancholic#...but would that really be so bad? if I was just a little glum when it came to me?#despite the fact that with everything that's not me I say 'lets just keep moving forward and change what we can'?#despite the fact I tend to have a very upbeat... lets not dwell on the past; lets see how we can fix the now kinda mindset?#despite the fact I think I must seem a bit stupid and bumbling in person cause I always tend to be kinda 'it is what it is'?#just because I think bad thoughts and you hear how I think on here... my actions aren't enough to outweigh that?#clean all that shit; but I dare to not like myself very much... seems like weighing the two I really am just negative or whatever; eh?#and by god always make sure to tell me to get a therapist even though I'm both working on that and also it won't fix me#if therapy fixed me I'd be fixed at like 14; it's systemic shit; like I said... therapist can just help a bit#...what I really need is for more people to turn towards me a bit more... 20% of the time even... nah I don't want to elaborate#I don't want to phrase that the more understandable way; I want everyone to... miss it... I can't stand to be seen and then ignored... agai#wish people would worry a little less about me and help a little more... mostly by just being company#can't a body fall down stairs in peace? you know?
1 note
·
View note
Text
cleaned over 300 posts from my drafts holy fuck we're down from 1000 to 698.... i got as far as march 2020 before i gave up coz im sleepy but omg. im gonna work through it fully one day
#i never go above 1000 if it ever gets that high i have a policy to get in there and start cleaning#but that just means i usually hover around 990#i have nooo idea what tf can be there before 2020... I'll get to it one day#a lot of it is gifsets i meant to rb at the time but then forgot about and now i wont#a lot of it is gifsets i WILL rb! eventually! i promise!#barking#300 is fucking crazy tho it did NOT feel like i deleted that many. like if i had to guess i would've said i deleted like 50#also a lot of it was original posts i never made#i deleted the ones that aren't relevant anymore but there's lots that are either#incomprehensible or just personal in a way that's an interesting glimpse into my mind at the time#so i kept those coz those are funny#also my very first draft ever is from mid 2017 and it's ''finnp.oe is canon'' i saved it before the 2nd movie came out#i remember that one very clearly. i never posted it. sigh.#I'll get to it and see it again one day..... but it took me like an hour to make it to feb 2020 so god knows when I'll get to 2017
1 note
·
View note
Text
I have this problem thatâs like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.
This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.
#also blues clues but less severe. I like blues clues. but my only childhood memories are when I was scared of it#YES I WAS SCARED OF BLUES CLUES. I HAD A HUGE FEAR OF MYSTERIES. IDK HOW OR WHY. ALSO MY MEGALOPHOBIA DIDNT LIKE THE CLOSE UP PAWPRINTS#the Halloween episode also scared me on several occasions. yes I was a baby. still kind of am.#but like I still have positive feelings about blues clues but ANIMAL CROSSING. ohhh man.#first of all that megalophobia I mentioned uh yeah not a big fan of seeing those big fish.#I was terrified of the rumor that you could see a GINORMOUS fish in the ocean. and Iâve been hearing it was REAL? worst thing ever.#but like. I couldnât even take care of my irl self so you KNOW my village was totally trashed.#so I had to play while constantly getting told âeveryone HATES living in this townâ and trying my best to fix it but itâs out of control and#I canât bring myself to clean (I did it once. it was the happiest Iâd been finally getting told positive things.)#my house always full of roaches too lol foreshadowing my life as an adult#ALSO THOSE FREAKING DANGEROUS BUGS WOULD GET ME ALL THE TIME I was always playing at night and getting terrified#I never had a âfavorite villagerâ in the traditional sense cuz none of them ever stayed long. they hated my town.#my fave was actually stitches but I never saw him. maybe I saw him once and he IMMEDIATELY moved out. that was my life.#I canât name a single villager I ever had in my village cuz they always moved out. I learned not to form attachments even tho I wanted to.#and donât even get me STARTED on Resetti. if you are a Resetti lover then WE ARE NOT MEANT TO INTERACT đ#Iâm joking I wonât judge you as a person if you like him but at the same time I genuinely on god hate him#opening up the game was a nightmare cuz I knew without fail every time I would have to see him.#âjust saveâ? it wasnât ever ME that was doing it. it was my little siblings. and NO I couldnât stop them. they were like GODS at stealing#not to mention parents would always side with them and make us share the games. they liked to delete saves and were gods at that too#but anyways so I was always stuck with Resetti cuz my siblings couldnât leave my game alone and also couldnât bring themselves to save befor#stopping. so every day it would be Resetti. I dreaded it so much because he is like SUPER reminiscent of my abusive step father at the time.#I often cried while just desperately trying to get thru his lectures. they were SO. LONG. and OH MY GOD the time he made me repeat something#I legitimately donât know what it was but like I kept failing it. I know I was rlly bad with copying things as a kid#there was a time where I made the painful decision to quit in the middle of his rant. knowing that it would be worse next time but I was#simply unable to take it at that point in time. HOW EFFED UP IS THAT. THAT I JUST WANT TO PLAY A DAMN GAME BUT I CANT CUZ OF THE TRAUMA.#I hate Resetti I hate Resetti I hate him so much âoh heâs just a characterâ THATS WHY IM FREE TO HATE HIM BABY!!! IT MAKES IT WORSE THAT PPL#DELIBERATELY CREATED A CHARACTER LIKE THAT HONESTLY! WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT TO POOR INNOCENT ME!!!#anyways yeah literally everything about animal crossing is so distressing to me and yet I remember loving it. no idea why.#my memories of it have like a dramatic and eerie vignette#and that newer one that came out and everyone was so excited. I canât handle it cuz of the FISH AGAIN!!! MEGALOPHOBIA BE LIKE!!!!!!!
0 notes
Text
More than a Transaction
featuring. sevika x gn!reader
requested by anon
The brothel wasnât a place for love. It was a place for survival, a stage where affection was an act and intimacy a commodity. Youâd grown used to it, the numb to the fleeting touches, the hollow words whispered in your ear. Love had never been in the cards for you, and youâd long since accepted it.
That was until she walked in. The first time you saw Sevika, she stood out from the usual clientele. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a presence that turned heads and silenced conversations. Her mechanical arm gleamed under the dim lights, and her dark eyes swept the room like she was looking for something, or maybe someone.
âI need a room,â she said, her voice gravelly and low, the kind that made you pause.
You raised an eyebrow but didnât ask questions. Youâd heard whispers about her before, Silcoâs right hand, a woman to be feared. Yet as she followed you upstairs, her heavy boots echoing against the floorboards, she didnât seem dangerous. Just⊠tired.
In the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She looked around, her gaze lingering on the peeling wallpaper and the flickering candle on the nightstand. âYou donât look like you belong here,â she said, breaking the silence.
You crossed your arms as your looked at her. âNeither do you.â
Her lips quirked into a smirk. âFair enough.â
At the time, you thought she was just another patron. Someone passing through, here for a night of comfort before disappearing back into the shadows of Zaun. But Sevika wasnât like the others. The first few visits were business. Silco had sent her to gather information, and the brothel was the perfect place for secrets to spill. She came to you because you were good at what you did: disarming people with a smile, coaxing out truths without them realizing.
âWhatâs he like?â you asked one evening, lounging on the bed as she nursed a glass of whiskey.
âWho?â she asked.
âSilco. Your boss.â you said plainly.
Sevika leaned back, her smirk fading into something thoughtful. âHeâs⊠complicated. But he knows what he wants, and he doesnât stop until he gets it.â
âGod, sounds exhausting,â you said with a wry smile.
She chuckled, the sound low and rough. âIt is.â
You didnât press further, and she didnât offer more. But as the weeks passed, her visits became less about Silco and more about you.
One evening, Sevika arrived looking worse for wear. Her knuckles were split, her lip bruised, and a storm cloud seemed to hang over her head.
âWhat happened to you?â you asked, grabbing a damp cloth to clean her wounds.
âWork,â she muttered, wincing as you dabbed at her lip.
âYouâre going to get yourself killed one of these days,â you said, your tone sharper than you intended.
She smirked despite the pain. âWhat, worried about me or something?â
You didnât answer, focusing instead on her hand, where fresh blood was crusted over her skin. Her gaze lingered on you as you worked, softer than usual.
âYouâre different,â she said after a long pause.
You glanced up. âDifferent how?â
âFrom the others. You donât⊠fake it the same way.â
You laughed bitterly. âI fake it just like everyone else.â
She shook her head. âNot with me.â Her words hung in the air, heavy and confusing. You didnât know how to respond, so you didnât. The silence even though had some tension lingering was comforting.
Over time, Sevika became a fixture in your life. She brought small gifts when she visited. A book she thought youâd like, a bottle of wine sheâd picked up on the way, a scarf when the weather turned cold. âYouâre spoiling me,â you teased one night as you unwrapped a delicate silver bracelet sheâd brought.
âMaybe I like spoiling you,â she replied, her smirk softening into something almost shy.
Youâd never had someone treat you like this before. For so long, youâd told yourself you didnât need love, that it wasnât meant for people like you. But Sevika made you question that.
One evening, she arrived in an even darker mood than usual. Her fists were clenched, her jaw tight, and the tension radiated off her like a storm.
âRough night?â you asked, trying to keep your tone light. She didnât answer right away, pacing the room like a caged animal. Finally, she stopped, her eyes meeting yours.
âWhy do you do this?â she asked abruptly.
âDo what?â you asked with a slight concerned look on your face.
âThis,â she said, gesturing around the room. âThis life. Youâre better than this place.â Her words stung more than they should have. âAnd what should I be doing instead?â you snapped. âChanging the world? Leading a revolution?â
âYou could,â she said simply.
You stared at her, caught off guard. She wasnât mocking you as you thought a second ago, she meant it.
âWhy do you care?â you asked, your voice quieter now.
She stepped closer, her rough hand brushing against yours. âBecause youâre worth more than this. You just donât see it yet.â
That night, something shifted between you. Sevika stopped pretending her visits were for Silco and started coming just for you. She stayed longer, lingering even after the candles burned low. You talked for hours, about everything and nothing.
âWhat do you want out of life?â she asked one night, her voice softer than usual.
âI donât know,â you admitted. âIâve never thought about it.â
âWell, think about it,â she said, leaning back against the bed with a rare, relaxed air. âYou deserve more than this.â
Her words stayed with you long after she left. The brothel wasnât a place for love, but somehow, Sevika had found you there. She wasnât perfect, far from it. She was rough around the edges, guarded and prone to anger. But with you, she was different. Softer. And for the first time in your life, you felt truly seen.
âStay with me,â you whispered one night as she pulled on her jacket to leave.
She paused, her hand hovering over the door handle. âI canât promise you a happy ending,â she said, her voice heavy with regret.
âI donât need to be happy,â you replied. âI just want you.â Sevika turned, her dark eyes searching yours. Finally, she closed the distance between you, her calloused hand cupping your cheek.
âYouâve got me,â she said softly, her lips brushing against yours. âFor as long as youâll have me.â And for the first time, the brothel didnât feel like a place of survival. It felt like home.
taglist: @cewl-casper @hutaotown @lunatakashi18 @shinyshayminflower @pipirka827363829 @dragonfly41777 @themostlesbianever @abbyssgf @kissyslut @ayedomino0 @amenazaaaa @usedmilkdud @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @ekkosh
banners: @anitalenia
#sevika fics â àŁȘ .#arcane fluff#arcane fanfic#arcane masterlist#house of the dragon#sevika x you#sevika headcanon#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#arcane sevika#sevika#reader insert#sevika x y/n#arcane fic#arcane x reader#arcane#arcane drabbles#arcane imagine#arcane x gender neutral reader#arcane x you#arcane angst#arcane writing
177 notes
·
View notes
Text
ËËË đ  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .á
âË áŻâ
  about ! âa little girlâs first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )
warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.
sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldnât get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list â read on ao3 ! ֎ àŁȘđ€âÂ
áŻâ
SATORU GOJO:
before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner.Â
in his childhood home â they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.
they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.
to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital â without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive.Â
even if he had all the money in the world, he hadnât a drop of love. he wasnât ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didnât know if it was something his heart could ever open up to â sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoruâs veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void.Â
to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything⊠and he swore heâd never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; heâd do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs.Â
at the time, you were sure youâd never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) â but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.
but now, having met you and married you and created life with you â satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present.Â
it wasnât a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.
âso kid, whatâs your 401K look like?âÂ
satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown.Â
the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired manâs intense gaze â if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table âum⊠i donât know?â
âhear that little guy? no 401K⊠howâs he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.
youâre right, iâll give him a chance,â he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughterâsâŠsorry excuse for a partner. âokay then⊠finances, clearly not. academics and common sense ââ pausing, the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. âdo you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women donât play about their flowers, yanno.âÂ
âsirââ
without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again â pointing an accusatory finger at his little girlâs partner. âyour top buttonâs undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughterâs safety!â he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojoâs eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad â who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.
in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boyâs. almost as if to say âiâm watching you.â
catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. âdaddy please, you donât act like this normally. stop messing around.â rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dadâs clearly empty skull. just like her mother.
âwell sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who youâre dating! who youâre bringing into our bloodline!â gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son. Â
and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husbandâs head and tut down at him. âsatoru? what are you doing?â thereâs something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight â slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.âÂ
âweâre having a heart to heart, babe,â gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughterâs boyfriend. âjimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.â
âitâs hiro sir! and uh⊠3.5% sir.â the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.
you know that your husband feels⊠almost threatened by another man entering your daughterâs life â theyâve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. âthatâs pretty good hun!â you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.
âno itâs not! our daughter has a 4.0%.â
âs-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.â the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. âi hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college andâ!âÂ
âhaha â no i wasnât!â the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. itâs this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.
âi thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.âÂ
âyou were failing?â you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father.Â
âsee! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!â a glare settles on the slopes of satoruâs angelic features, mirrored by your childâs unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table â earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. âsee, this why he doesnât have a 401Kâ
âwhy would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!â comes your exasperated sigh.
âi had one when i was his age.â satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like heâs no better than a worm on a bait hook â itâs torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoruâs approval is to your daughter.
she wouldnât say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world â but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky â the backdrop to days spent riding her fatherâs shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldnât admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth â it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.
âdaddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,â she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. youâd chide her for cursing â but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. âa loser, if you will.âÂ
gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. âhow could you say that about dear old dad?â he whines, as though heâs a wounded animal.Â
âwell sheâs not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.â the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection â grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. âa hot one at least.âÂ
âgross.â your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table â grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.
her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojoâs intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. âi think thatâs very sweet mrs gojo!â
the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired manâs temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. âdonât push it kid.â the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. âyouâre sitting too close together! move apart!âÂ
âdaddyâ!â
âw-what?â
âi said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.â âbetrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.âÂ
the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husbandâs actions. you both knew he wouldnât handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young coupleâs hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesnât comment â biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what itâs like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. itâs not like he wasnât aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parentâs wishes.Â
in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time â how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs â gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. âyouâre being dramatic satoru. look at them, donât you just love young love.âÂ
and he does, he looks, really looks â softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all heâs ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldnât give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl.Â
âno, not at all,â satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision â shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. âw-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. theyâre not cute at all, why would you say that iâm crying?âÂ
your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. âno one mentioned you crying, daddy.â she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.
it doesnât work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasnât cried this hard since her baby brother was born.
the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. âi donât think youâre crying sir!âÂ
âshut up!â gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. âshit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?â pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically â desperate to please his girlfriendâs guardian. âgood stuff this is⊠but this doesnât mean i approve of you for my daughter!â
âgojo!âÂ
âwhaaaaat!? he doesnât have a 401K!â
áŻâ
RYOMEN SUKUNA:
if youâd told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss â he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.
he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. heâd cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to â push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.
at least, until he met you.Â
in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different âÂ
nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart â they say thatâs what true love does to you.
a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article heâs reading â something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft.Â
âhey, iâm home!â the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired manâs heart strings. âis ma here?âÂ
sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. âin the kitchen, workinâ,â he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. âoi squirt, you ainât slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.âÂ
thereâs a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukunaâs daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance â sheâs in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he canât help but to tease her just a bit. âsâin my bag, can i go now?â she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply.Â
but the pink haired parentâs peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joyâs bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which heâs been a father â nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.
âwhat the fuck is this?â he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because heâs a doting husband or loving father. heâs got an image to uphold and itâs not one of domestic bliss.Â
his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth â seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. âwhatâs what, daddy?â her innocent nonchalance about the older sukunaâs discovery almost makes him pop a vein. âalso, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.â
the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something youâd brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husbandâs potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukunaâs lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your babyâs third birthday, so youâve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.
paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. âdonât play dumb with me, squirt.â ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. ââdo you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.ââ he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.
thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husbandâs finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.
âoh my god! you werenât supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!â
âfat chance, squirt,â the tattooed man retorts. âyou passinâ notes in class? that why youâre hidinâ your report card?âÂ
âyou can have my report card, when you give that back!â
with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. theyâre both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna â turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. âoh ryo,â you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. âshut up ân let me see that.â
your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, youâre still able to make a fool out of him â make sukunaâs heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. heâs gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl.Â
casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. itâs sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. âdid atsushi finally ask you out?â you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the physical version of a precious memory.Â
a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features youâd recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too â but all you see is a culmination of love. âma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!âÂ
she gushes dreamily over her crush like itâs puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot.Â
âlike a charm, every time.â comes your entertained response, much to your husbandâs dismay.
âyou werenât playinâ hard to get with meâŠâ sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that heâs missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that itâs not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.  ânever mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper? yâbetter not have said yes. we have standards here.âÂ
his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time youâd met him.
your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. âwell ma married you, so her standards canât be that high.â she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. âand no, i didnât. told him he needed to ask me out properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!â
pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. âoh baby, i'm so happy for you!â
âwell i ainât! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,â sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if heâs preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. âwhatever happened to askinâ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.âÂ
âfirstly you would have said no, and secondly this isnât the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.â your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.
tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.âsheâs right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.â you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like heâs so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.
âi freakinâ earned it, didnât i?Â
âjust barely.â
sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. âstop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.âÂ
âhere, isnât he cute.âÂ
lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughterâs phone from over your shoulder â scrutinising the instagram page that sheâs opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. âbrat looks like a noodle.â haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomenâs chest and buzzing right though your back. âyouâre right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckinâ turned up!âÂ
two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.
âryomen sukuna!âÂ
âdaddy!â
âyeah yeah, i know. swear jar.â
áŻâ
SUGURU GETO:
âmy love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?â
suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago â he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.
âno, i wasnt. i don't believe thatâs come up in discussion before,â your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms â her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel youâve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. âcare to elaborate sweetheart?â
suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead â the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.
ânuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!â she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride â happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angelâs damp forehead. âno boy-fend papa!
bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. âsuch a daddyâs girl, lying to him already? heâll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,â though you muster up a pout to rival the toddlerâs, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husbandâs heart, your tone is playful and adoring â itâs lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air. âwe bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.âÂ
âiâm sure,â he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.
you relay the information to your husband as though itâs hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughterâs head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguruâs, sheâs still just as much your carbon copy as she is his â he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.
shaking her head between you, both â your baby chimes in brightly. ânoooo mama!! boys are gross, i donâ hold hands with boys.â
this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. ânot even papa?â he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face.Â
ânuhhh, papa isnât gross!! papa is my favourite boy!â she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.
âthatâs right. iâll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,â your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughterâs nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguruâs face and keep him close â close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. âthat settles it, iâm no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until youâre ninety.â
once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. âoh come on suguru, theyâre only three. donât you think itâs the tiniest bit adorable?â you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.âthey even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when itâs time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.â
with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguruâs shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldnât dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. thatâs why heâs always smiling for her, and you find the manâs subtle jealousy endearing. itâs always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course )Â
ânope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.â voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before.Â
the idea of some⊠little boy chasing after his daughterâs heart? over his dead body.
âboy-fends are gross!â but your daughter is forever a daddyâs girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance â supporting her papaâs cause. boyfriends are bad!Â
fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa â food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. âdoes that mean papaâs gross? heâs technically mamaâs boyfriend.â
âhusband, love, thereâs a difference.âÂ
three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table â each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or soâs time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill.Â
round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table â she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husbandâs words. âcan i have a husbsband-love?â
you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. âhusband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!â she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. âgood girl. husbandâs arenât for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.â
âif you got one ever!â suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. âthe answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.âÂ
now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip â launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. âdon worry, papa!. fujioka is no my boy-fend!!â she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. sheâll definitely need another bath later. âhasegawa is!!â
the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel.Â
how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip?Â
âtwo boyfriends? oh god, love⊠i think need some air.â
ê°Â end. â all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.
#tteokdoroki#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#jjk x fluff#jjk x you#gojo x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna fluff#sukuna smut#sukuna headcanons#gojo headcanons#gojo smut#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#geto headcanons#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#⧠âËà© â writing
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Boyfriend x you
Rated 18 + â mature short content !
Includes: He cries, begging, use him!, gender neutral reader, he slips you some viagra, he becomes your maidâtrying to get on your good graces, tie him up and blindfold him, doggystyle, he eats you out.
*Incase yall were wondering.. this is lol what I imagine yandere classmate/boyfriend looks like in his little uniform. This is the third post! And check out the first and second when you can! He is referred to as âyour boyfriendâ and this is purely fictional writing!*
Synopsis: He comes clean about his yandere tendencies, and how he lied about pretty much everything. Your boyfriend will do anything for you to take him back again.
He always dreaded this moment. The moment when he had to tell you the truth, and he hoped you wouldnât look at him any differently.
He told you about how much of a sexual deviant he is, and how he never got accepted into the university, and how he got you to live with him.
You kicked out your boyfriend when he came clean. You wanted space from him, but he took it as a break up and he started to panic as a jerk reaction. He came by to your door everyday, and you only gave him five minutes to explain himself, and then you shut the door in his face. And like clockwork, he came again. Over time, you were slowly getting the full picture.
He liked you since highschool, followed you around, sniffed your locker when he missed you, befriended your siblings to see your room, and he often jerked himself off when he thought about you.
He showed up with flowers, chocolates, chips, your favorite food from the nicest restaurants, and even stuffed animals that could sing. He then slid letters underneath your door, and then he slid pictures of him incase you werent understanding how much he needed you. He would send his nudes through the phone, but you blocked him.
He did not get what a break meant. He hated that you wanted zero contact, and that you did not want to meet with him until you were ready to talk again. So, one last time he approached your door again. He knocked on the door, you peeked through the peephole, and saw he wasnât holding anything this time. He was just wearing a dark hoodie, sweats, and his airpods shoved into his ears.
You opened the door just enough to get a good look at him. HeâŠlooked embarrassed? His face pink and he nervously fiddled with his hair.
âCan I come in..?â Your boyfriend asked. You slowly let him inside and your eyes widens as he pulled off his clothes. âJust hear me out-â
When he got his joggers pulled off, he revealed a little maid outfit. He wore this black and white skirt or dress, some white sheer tights, and had some bows in his hair.
âIâll become your maid! Iâll clean, cook, and⊠sleep with you heh, if t-thatâs just what you want!â He stuttered in the end to cover up the fact that heâs been so pent up. He didnât want you to think that heâs still a sexual deviant (you so nicely called him).
So, over the next couple of weeks he would come over and clean your apartment. He would whistle some sweet tunes, vacuum the place, and he would occasionally flash a bit more leg at you. You found it humorous that he was trying to seduce you. The skirt of his dress would accidentally would be a bit too high up, and you caught sight of his erection. And he would try to be too helpful. If you were stressed out, he told you that you could hop on his cock.
He was becoming desperate for attention, and paranoid that you would find someone else during this âbreak.â He came around more often to clean your house, and he would sneak into your bedroom to snoop in your drawers. When you two were still dating, you had some scandalous intimates, and he audibly sighed when he saw none of those.
So, you werenât seeing anyone new. He smiled as he chopped up some carrots for the stew he was cooking, he wanted to feed you well and make you happy. He snuck some viagra into your drink, and he handed it to you.
If you were being honest⊠you didnât think that your boyfriend was capable of all of those things he was confessing to. You werenât going to say that heâs dumb⊠but he definitely tended to act like he needed your attention and help 24/7. So, it was a surprise to hear that he was actually a massive pervert and manipulator. You continue to sit there with an impassive look on your face, your arms crossed, and you watch as he cried and sobbed. The viagra hasnât kicked in yet, and he was cursing at himself for not giving you more. He tried to plead his case and get you to change your mind about him.
âI didnât mean too!â He wailed. âIt just happened so suddenly! I-It was like my feelings for you appeared overnight!â That was technically half true.
You did wish on a shooting star for a boyfriend, and the universe provided. But it turned into an unhealthy obsession, it turned an innocent man to start stalking you, and craving to be yours.
He could not stop, the tears in his eyes kept coming and he was on his knees. He knew any sane person would leave him in a heartbeat, they would dump his ass, and maybe even get a restraining order on him.
âYouâre just so amazing! I fell in love with you immediately. It was like an instant connection..!â He pouted, and he crawled over to you. âAre you going to leave me?â
You heavily debated on it. Heâs insane, that was pretty clear, and you also took a note that you should probably clean your sheets⊠and lock your room just in case. Your head still tried to wrap around the fact that he bought a plane ticket, and up-rooted his whole lifeâŠfor you.
You sighed, âI might-â
âDonât.â He quickly said, his eyes darkening and they narrow at you briefly. All before he nervously chuckles when you didnât like his tone, and he reached for you, âW-What I meant wasââ
âYou canât tell me what to do.â You scoffed and you took a step back. His hand falling down after you rejected his touch.
His lip started to quiver, and he bends down to kiss at your feet. âWhat can I do, my love?â
âYou know Iâll do anything.â
You donât know why, but you started to feel your body heat up. His lips looked so kissable and soft, his cheeks pink and tear-stained. You eventually gave in. You didnât want him to have the satisfaction of seeing your body, so you unravel the ribbons in his hair, and cover his eyes. You used the other ribbons to tie his hands back.
He had to rely on his other senses to understand what you were doing. All he hears is a rustle of your clothes falling down to the floor, and you got him to lay on his back. You instructed him to open his mouth and he does so, his tongue sticking out in anticipation. He felt a presence nearby and he immediately tried to lick at it. His tongue feeling something warm and slick. He lifted his head up and buried himself into it, his tongue slipping inside to your core, and he probed for your g-spot. He pushed himself deeper, his neck straining to force his tongue deeper.
He wanted to use his hands to spread your legs further for him. He wanted to rip the blindfold off so he could see what he was doing, and make you feel better. He felt you pull away, and he latched his lips onto your heat to convince you to stay on his face. Your boyfriend huffed when his head fell back onto the floor, he licked his lips, and he felt you pull his boxers down. His cock sprung outâ so eager for you to do whatever to it. A little dribble of cum spills out of his tip, and trailing down his shaft.
âfuhhhhck!â He let out a deep groan, your hand moving up and down his length as you put the condom on him. He wiggled his hips, imaging that it would be buried deep inside you. He could get off at the thought of you riding him.
You straddled his hips, his tip poking at your heat before you finally sank down on him. He bit his lip, his brows furrowed as you bounced up and down.
He still didnât get to have sight privileges as you change positions. There was a ring of cum around his dick, and he began to harden again at your admiration. You praised him for doing so well, and you got onto all fours. He reached out for your hips, using his hands to guide himself behind you. He gently spreads your cheeks apart, and he glides right into you again.
Heâs never heard of stopping at one time.
Once just wasnât enough.
You let your boyfriend have a taste of you after months of shunning him. You had let him come to your graduation, but he had to stand from the distance, and he held a sign saying he âloves you.â
You were finally done with college and you were taking a right step in the direction, finding your own peace, and growing as a person.
But you just had to let him in.
Your boyfriend let out one final devastatingly brutal thrustâa sadistic smile tugging at his lipsâand he knew he won you over when he heard you scream out his name.
Allure: Anywaaaaay! Idk if this will be the final, there might be another one where reader and him are engaged?? IDK donât quote me.
#Allurilove yandere writing#Alluriloveâ YANDERE BOYFRIEND X YOU PART THREE#yandere classmate x you#yandere boyfriend x you#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#male yandere#yandere oc#yandere drabble#yandere writing#yandere male#yandere imagines#yandere smut#obsessive love#smut writing#desperate men#desperate yandere#he wears a maid outfit
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Imposter
Imagine a yandere that pretends to be someone else...
You and your husband hadn't been close in years. A rotten drunkard that spent all day rotting away on the couch. When the two of you got married, you genuinely thought things would be perfect, he was such a sweet guy. But things just went downhill from there.
He was a sleeze bag. Spending all day drinking and refusing to work. Forcing you to get a job to support you both, but he couldn't even bother being somekind of househusband. No, he expected you to get off of work clean the house for him and still cook him dinner everyday. You felt more like his mother than his wife. And it was getting on your last nerve.
So imagine your surprise when you walk into the house one day, the smell of cheap booze and cigarette smoke gone. Instead replaced with the smell of soup?
The place was oddly spotless as you made your way into the kitchen, and there standing at the stove was your husband. Wearing an apron as he stirred the food in the pot. It was unnerving, if you knew anything about your husband it was that he refused to even step foot in the kitchen unless it was to eat. As if sensing your presence, he quickly turned around a smile spreading on his face. Was it just you or were his teeth whiter than usual?
Walking over he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, burying his face into your neck. A look of happiness on his face as he held you close.
"I'm so happy you're finally home, Dear. I went ahead and made dinner, you just go sit down and I'll be right over."
Since when had he called you pet names? You couldn't help but check his tempature, wondering if he was running a fever of somekind. Why else would he be acting so out of character suddenly. But he simply laughed off your worry and ushered you towards your seat. Immediantly serving you dinner with a blissful smile, a smile you had never seen on his face. You were so confused...
The night just continued on like that. One weird occurance after another. It felt like you were with a stranger, someone nothing like your husband yet identical to him. You felt like you were going mad, until night eventually came. Bringing you to bed, you and your husband lied down together. Except unlike everynight since your honeymoon, he pulled you closer. Snuggled up next to you as he whispered softly in your ear, almost bringing tears to your eyes.
"I'm so sorry for the way things have been all these years. You never deserved any of it. But as long as I'm here, I'll treat you perfect..."
Edan had always hated his brother. Despite looking identical, they couldn't have been more different. And it felt like his brother was always out to make his life difficult. If Edan got on the football team, his brother was the quaterback. If Edan got a B, his brother got an A. If Edan got honor roll, his brother got valedictorian. And eventually when Edan felt like he had met his soulmate his dear brother had to marry them. He could never win. It was all too much.
Especially when Edan began to take a closer look into the life his brother had stolen away from him. He was disgusted. Working his beloved like a dog day and night. Treating them as nothing more than a servant meant to do whatever was demanded of them, not giving them the life they deserved. The day he snapped came when he saw his beloved leave for work, continuing to stay near the house. He watched as his brother stepped out of the house hours later, walking over to one of the neighboring apartment doors and knocked on it. A scantily clad individual opening the door and ushering him inside. He saw red...
How foolish did that idiot have to be. Stealing away the life that Edan deserved, only to not even appreciate it. He got the privilege to lay beside perfection every night, and he still ran into the arms of some worthless harlot. He couldn't stand it. His beloved didn't deserve this mistreatment, and his brother didn't deserve their love. But what was he supposed to do about it...
He had never been so happy that the two were identical...
All it took was a little makeover and a swap of IDs for the two to look the exact same again. Now if he was ever found, Edan would be dead. He had to clean up all the blood from the floor, he might have gone a bit overboard but years of hatred and frustration will do that to a person.
But it was all worth it in this moment. Holding his beloved close to his chest as the two lay together, it was a dream come true. Burying his face in their hair, he continued to whisper to them, arms wrapped tightly around their body so that they couldn't get up. They never had to know.
" You'll get the life you deserve. We'll both get the lives we deserve, no matter what..."
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
MDNI slight suggestive and language
Ghost definitely has a motorcycle and a truck. He'll drive the truck when he knows it'll be a long day doing intel and paperwork. But especially on a Friday when the workload is light, heâll come in on his bike knowing heâll be able to enjoy the ride.
He started riding the bike more when you gave the comment-
Guys who ride motorcycles are ten times more attractive with their bike
You didnât say it to him per se but rather to a friend of yours on base, and he overheard. He likes to think that the bike is his good luck charm, as you agreed to a first date when he drove it. But despite you loving the bike as much as you loved him, he never let you on it. Always exclaiming it would be too dangerous.
He's in the garage, music playing lightly from the speaker as he cleans and messes with some of the gears. You watch in awe at the door. Never in a million years did you think you would be here. In Ltâs old t-shirt, sipping tea and watching him indulge in normalcy on a Sunday afternoon. When you transferred to the base, you always heard rumors about the man behind the mask and the name Ghost. But behind that was this man full of love.
âEnjoying the show, darling?â He said, looking up from the bike to see you.
âJust admiring.â You said.
âThe bike or the rider?â He said smirking.
You admired and mirrored that smirk. Something you thought you would never see in your lifetime. But after trials of trust, the mask and guards came down, bearing all the luggage, and past to your welcoming arms.Â
âBoth,â you said, walking over to him. He was seated on a chair and leaned back to welcome you in between his legs.Â
He peered up, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight that peaked through the window.
âLet me ride.â You said, peering down.
âYou can ride me anytime.â He said, being cheeky.
You groaned at his antics and pouted towards him.
âDo you not trust me on your precious baby, Si?â
He looked between you and the bike. It wasnât that he didn't trust you. He knows how dangerous riding is. He doesnât want to let you on just in case something happens. Heâs come to terms with something happening to him a long time ago. But you. He just got you and would put you in a bubble if it meant keeping you safe.Â
âI trust you. I just don't trust others.â He says, moving a piece of hair from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw. He guided you to his lips for a quick peck.
You leave your forehead on him while he moves his hands down to your hips.
He can tell you were annoyed with your answers. You guys bonded over this bike and he truly believes that being able to ride it one day was the only thing keeping you around.
That was far from the truth. You just wanted to straddle something other than Simons's dick.
He stood up and moved you to the side.
He pushed the brake down and moved to the back of the bike.
"We can start with basics. Posture and positions." He said looking at you.
Stunned by his answer and quick change in answers, you didn't move till he said, "Ok, I guess you don't want to." You feet quickly moved to stand by him.
He went through the basics, teaching you how to mount and where to keep your feet. After, it was your turn to demonstrate your understanding. You go to the side and lift a leg to straddle the seat.
Simon from the back saw how you were a natural at this. Your ass is plump on the seat you lean to hold the handles with a slight arch in your back. Simon thought to himself why he hadn't let you do this earlier. He was so caught up in how good you look he didn't even hear you ask him if what you were doing was good.
You looked over to see him in a daze. He quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo of you on his bike, clad in his boxers and old t-shirt; every inch of you screamed that you were his. And he never loved anything more than this moment right now.
He walked to the front of the bike.
"Is this alright Si?" You asked him when you finally are met with his face.
He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you.
"My gorgeous girl on my bike," He said in between kisses.
You giggled and removed your hands from the handles to his neck and shoulder.
"Get off the bike and get inside right now." He said, pulling away. Laughing, you got off and felt a slight smack hit your ass. This was definitely not your last time on his bike.
#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#task force 141#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#call of duty#cod x reader
5K notes
·
View notes