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astermath · 1 year ago

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sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then.

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top.

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.”

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes.

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know.

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground.

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing.

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm.

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?”

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ��Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.”

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least.

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!”

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool.

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.”

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work.

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating.

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

#aster writes the bear #carmen berzatto #carmenmath #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

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idksmtms · 10 months ago

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The Prettiest Trophy (Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his?

Word count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games), p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership, (please let me know if I missed any)

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden.

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore.

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real?

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean.

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer.

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through.

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance.

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?”

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma.

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said.

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal.

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver.

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.”

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him.

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer.

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course.

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt.

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply.

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story.

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed.

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.”

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss.

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber.

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps.

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you.

“Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all.

“You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving.

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before.

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved.

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge.

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms.

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush.

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body.

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head.

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull.

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh.

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won.

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell.

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered.

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes?

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

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catboybiologist · 3 months ago

Note

If there is no difference biologically between males and women, what is the point of hormone replacement therapy and top/bottom surgeries? Why don’t males get periods but women do? Why transition medically if there is no difference? Why don’t they have uteruses and periods?

I'm going to assume this isn't bait, and isn't from a terf (which it likely is but I'm giving the benefit of doubt), bc it still is a launching point for discussion. But the tldr is that this is a huge misrepresentation of my thinking, and the language of "males and women" makes me think that misrepresentation is intentional.

"no difference between male and female" is not what I was saying at all. It is somewhat subtle, but this is a crucially different point than I have maintained.

There are traits that we describe as male, and traits we describe as female. They are correlated with each other: eg, someone with a female reproductive system is more likely to have a female hormonal system.

However, using the words as categories that completely, unilaterally define the entire biology of each individual human is why the terms "biological women" and "biological man" don't make sense.

And yes, this applies to cis, perisex people as well! If you're a cis man, it's incredibly likely that you have a couple of traits that are "female", even though most of your traits are male. Vice versa for cis women. Even when people aren't categorically intersex, you still see cis women with body hair, occasional unknown male reproductive cells that can go completely unnoticed, and more! This isn't fringe cases or incidental happenings, this is the reality of human variation.

Every aspect of medical transition is essentially identifying a set of traits that a trans person possesses of their predominate natal sex, and making them the other sex. This is one reason why transition is also not "one size fits all"- not everyone needs to fully adjust every trait to be "male" or "female", whether it's bc some of their traits already are male or female, or bc you don't need all of your traits to be male or female overall.

The problem with saying "biological man" or "biological woman" is not that it acknowledges that male and female traits exist- its that they're overgeneralized categorizations that break down and become useless to address the biology and medical considerations of the individual. Even in genetics and lineage tracing, saying "male" and "female" holds an implicit, additional description that those individuals are reproductively female or male.

If you don't have a biology background, or are entrenched in gender binaries, I understand that this can seem like the same point as "men and women are biologically the same" but it's not. It's just precision in language, which is extremely important when we're specifically talking about medical care and science that centers around these exact concepts.

So to recap: saying that certain, specific aspects of someone's body are "male" or "female" is not biologically inaccurate. Generalizing this to sweeping, overly simplistic categories IS inaccurate.

And I'm about to fuck off to the mountains, so imma turn reblogs off on this post so shit doesn't get out of control while I have inconsistent or no internet access. But I def will explain more of this biology and language in the future.

#biology #basic biology

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midnightsnyx · 11 months ago

Note

Can we submit things with the prompt list you reblogged? If so can you do

“Is it weird that I’m comfortable”

And

“How the hell did you wrap your leg around me?"

With Nolan moyle ❤️

hi!! you can def submit things from that prompt list <3 i don't know much about Nolan Moyle & I’m not 100% happy with this but I’m trying to get back into writing and finish up the requests in my inbox so I hope it’s not too terrible!! Lol

requests are open

You didn't mean to fall asleep at Nolan's but after hanging out with him and watching a movie, you ended up dozing off.

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend the night at his house, although you slept in the guest room when you did stay over. You’d been friends for years, but sometimes you felt like you were hovering over the edge of friends and more than friends. It was a recipe for disaster though - if you crossed that line with him and it didn’t work out, you would lose your best friend.

But, sometimes things happen when you least expect them to so when you slowly wake up and realize you’re curled up next to Nolan, you immediately freeze. You’re not sure if he’s awake and you think you might just be able to sneak away when he grumbles and tightens his arms around you.

“How the hell did you wrap your leg around me?” He mumbles sleepily and you’ve no idea how to respond so you slowly start to try and wiggle yourself out of his arms but it’s useless. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to escape his hold on you.

“Is it weird that I’m comfortable?” you say in attempt to dodge his question. Your eyes are open and staring at him but his are still closed and you wonder if he’ll just fall back asleep and you can leave with your dignity intact.

You’re not that lucky though because he cracks an eye open and smiles. “No. Not really.”

“Are you comfortable?” you ask quietly.

“If we move to my bed instead of the couch I will be,” he replies but his face turns red. “To sleep, I mean.”

“Obviously,” you agree with a small smile.

And if you wake up the next morning in his bed with your legs tangled with his again, well, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #Nolan moyle imagine #nolan moyle #Nolan moyle blurb #hockey blurb

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gojosoath · 1 year ago

Text

the world underneath your skin — toji fic

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader (uses she/her pronouns)

tags: romance x ANGST x like a SHIT TON OF ANGST x AU (no sorcerer stuff in this au) x action x violence x soft!toji x

warnings: alcoholism x self harm (Y/N self harms, i do NOT mean this in any way implying that the reader (you) do this. and that if you have struggled/or are struggling with self harm, this is a major trigger warning. as someone who personally has struggled with self harm, i know how sensitive the topic is) x death (only characters' death from manga is toji's wife and megumi)

summary: After spending most of his life as an underground hitman for desperate means to support himself financially — Toji Fushiguro gets recruited to work as an assassin for the government due to his his mastered skills. Through his new occupation, Toji struggles with muscle pains and is recommended to see a massage therapist. Toji meets Y/N, who becomes Toji’s massage therapist, and the two realize they both have toxic addictions they hide from daylight; Toji’s alcoholism and Y/N’s self-harm. Along the way, Toji and Y/N can’t seem to stay away from each other despite the darkness that threatens to keep them apart.

Table of Contents // my ao3 // taglist form

taglist: @sakinotfound ;@nanamingojo; @bubs-world ; @saskamo ; @wo-ming-bai

a/n: soft!toji makes me feral. despite his aloof exterior, this man def craves cuddles . (he won't admit it, but he's totally into being the little spoon too). reblogs are encouraged!

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: slight SA at the end of this chapter done to y/n

Part 7: I Need You (wc: 5.8k)

Toji always gets his assignments done simply; go in and get out. As an assassin, you were never supposed to get stuck in the labyrinth of the humane side of your targets. Toji stripped his targets down in his mind as the key to his transactions — that’s all they were. Sometimes the dawning feeling would creep in on him if he did this so all the people he had killed wouldn’t suffocate him.

Shiu asked Toji, “Why are your clothes wet?”

Toji deadpans, “I went for a swim.”

Shiu didn’t push it any further than that. The silencer was set on the handgun he was going to use to kill his target — the woman with whom he had slept only hours before. When Shiu and Toji arrived, as always, Shiu stayed in the car. Toji entered the mansion by using an instrument that could cut through glass. He climbed through a window — the one that led to the woman, Jess’s, bedroom.

The woman, Jess, entered the bedroom in a bathrobe and damp hair. In a split second, Toji lifted his arm and shot the woman. She fell to the ground with a thud, blood beginning to pool around the bullet wound. It was a perfect headshot. Toji never looked at his targets long enough after killing them — he turned around to get out the same way he entered.

“Mom?”

Toji froze and slowly turned his head back and at the doorway of the bedroom, stood a trembling child. The child stared at their mother who lay on the floor. The child then looked over at Toji, the two of them locking gazes. The child’s facial expression matched his mother’s state — lifeless.

Something stung in Toji, it crippled his insides and screamed at him how much of a nasty monster he was. But that’s the thing about being an assassin, no matter what comes up, you have to move forward to finish the assignment. And that’s exactly what Toji did — jumping back down from the window and running over to the car where he and Shiu drove off.

Toji was silent throughout the entire car ride. Shiu didn’t say anything either. There was no radio playing, just complete silence. Toji asked Shiu for a cigarette and was handed one. As Toji took his first drag, he thought about how you first reacted when you found out he smoked. Even though Toji had just killed someone, he felt the corners of his lips turn upwards. He wondered, would you still kiss him after witnessing him killing someone’s mother in front of them?

Toji followed the usual precautions after a complete assignment — tossing the weapons into the river. If it were any other night, Toji would stroll to his usual bar and get himself drunk. Instead, he went back to his place which greeted him with silence as it always did. Toji peeled his clothes that stuck to his skin and took a cold shower.

┅

The day of Toji’s appointment with you comes around again — and he is excited to see you. He wonders if you’ll still be mad at him, considering how he left abruptly the last time you two saw one another. Whenever Toji looked down at his hands, his wrists had light pink markings from the handcuffs. The sight always made Toji smile along with blood rushing to his dick.

To Toji’s surprise, when he arrived at your clinic, he saw you locking up the front door. He had taken a cab to your clinic. You didn’t acknowledge him. Toji walked up to you, “Ignoring me, sweetheart?” He called out.

You still didn’t acknowledge him and began walking over to your parked car in the lot. Toji went over to your car by the passenger side, setting his arms over the hood of the car.

“This is not professional of you,” He remarks with a smile, and this earns him a glare from you.

You huff out in exasperation, “Sorry, forgot to tell you that something came up tonight.”

“I’m your customer,” Toji defended, “I’m going to leave a very bad review on your website.”

You continue to glare at him and snap, “Are you threatening me?”

Toji chuckles, “By leaving a bad review? Yes,” He confirms.

Your nostrils flare, scowling, “I can’t give you a massage tonight. We’ll have to do it next week.”

“You’re mad that I left quickly last time,” Toji blurts, “right?”

You only say, “Goodnight, Toji,” your keys jingling as you unlock your car door. Toji leans off of your car and takes out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. He lights it up, exhaling the smoke. The passenger window is rolled down, followed by your grim tone, “What are you doing?”

Toji crouches so he can see you, he holds out his cigarette between his fingers, “Smoking,” He states smugly.

“Well, it’s disgusting,” You comment harshly.

Toji chuckles again, this time leaning against the open window, his arms dangling inside your car, “Wanna go for a ride?”

“So you can just use me for sex and then leave?” You snap.

Toji watches you silently as smoke surrounds him, the glowing at the end of the cigarette illuminates against his features; making him appear captivating. His eyes scan your face, he takes one last drag and then flicks the cigarette to the side, “There,” He nods his head to the side where the cigarette lies on the ground, “just for you.”

You scoff, “Real romantic of you.”

“Well?” He asks, “Wanna go for a drive or not?”

You lean over the center console and stare at him sternly, “I understand that we’ve fucked each other a couple of times but that doesn’t mean I’ll let myself be objectified to just that — some kind of sex doll.”

“We don’t have to have sex,” Toji responds with a leveled tone, “I genuinely want to see you.”

“I can drive,” You mumble, “get in.” Toji stands up straight and opens the door, getting into the passenger side. “Buckle up,” You tell him.

“You a reckless driver?” Toji jokes.

“No, but if I end up not being able to stand you then I’ll step on the brakes and send you flying out the window,” You snide with a smile planted on your lips.

Toji puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering, “I promise to not get on your nerves tonight, Miss L/N.”

You start the car, rolling your eyes, “Whatever.”

You drive out of the clinic parking lot, not even knowing where you’re going. So you end up deciding to drive around aimlessly, with no set destination.

When you come to a stop light, Toji speaks up, “I like your hair up like this,” He nods at you, referencing your hair being put up in a ponytail.

“Really?” Your hand reaches back and pulls it out from its grasp, your hair falling. You and Toji stare at each other for a moment and both of you break out into small laughter. You place the back of your hand to your lips and look out the window, hating that you allowed yourself to get comfortable around him. The light turns green and you’re driving again. You find yourself driving into an empty parking lot of a closed grocery store.

“Are your wrists okay?” You ask quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“They’re a little sore,” Toji grins, “they could use some massaging.”

You look at him through your eyelashes, not wanting to make full-on eye contact with him. You answer by putting your palm out and he places his wrist on top of it. His hands are so large compared to yours — they’re calloused, scarred, and strong. His nails are cut short, there’s a wristwatch he’s got on. You gently turn it the other way so you can unclasp the watch that looks very expensive. Your eyebrows furrow as you struggle in trying to figure out how to unclasp it. Toji places his fingers over yours, pressing down and the watch clicks as it extends open.

You brush off the way your whole body heats up with elation at such a simple touch from him. You take off the watch and set it in the middle of your car console. You examine his wrist, turning it so it hits the light that illuminates from the light pole you two are parked under. Sure enough, there’s a light pink imprint from where the handcuffs were clasped around. You try not to let your mind become flooded with the memories of how Toji looked, sounded, and felt as you edged him on.

“Are you gonna massage it?” Toji’s voice breaks you out of your lost thoughts.

You look up from his wrist to meet an amused look on his face. You drop his wrist and cross your arms over your chest, “I already told you I’m not giving you a massage tonight.”

Toji clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “How can I make it up to you?” He offers, and his tone is surprisingly gentle.

You retort, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want to keep seeing you,” He tells you, you can feel his eyes on you.

You inhale sharply through your nose, “So what you said last time wasn’t just pillow talk?”

“I said a lot of things last time,” Toji remarks, unbuckling himself and shifting so he can sit more comfortably — spreading his legs as far as they can go in the seat and turning slightly so he’s facing you more.

“You promised me that you’d fuck me for the rest of my life,” You recall out loud.

Toji leans his head back against the car window, looking at you through half-lidded eyes, a full-on boyish smile on his scarred lips. “Of course, I meant that — when I make a promise, I keep it. Always.”

You look out the window to hide the way your face burns at his words, “How do I know you’re not just using me for sex?”

“Because I want to see you,” Toji reiterates.

You ask sheepishly, “Do you want to cuddle then?”

Toji opens the passenger side of the car, surprising you. He closes it and then opens the back passenger door, getting into the back. You turn around in your seat, lips parted in confusion.

Toji pats the empty spot next to him, “You coming?”

You turn off the car and climb over into the back, where Toji helps you by holding your hand. You sit in the spot next to him with a huff. His arm immediately goes around you, pulling you in so your two bodies are pressed. His other arm pushes your legs over so they’re laid out over his lap. Your ankles dangle off the edge of the car seat.

“There we go,” Toji notes, looking down at you. You’re silent for a moment, then hesitantly, set the side of your face against his chest. Your arm wraps around his small waist, and you hold your breath, waiting for his reaction.

Toji brings his lips to the crown of your head, making you feel like you’re melting. You finally relax against him, closing your eyes. You can hear his heartbeat against your ear, and it surprises you, his heart is racing.

You find this the perfect moment to tease him, “What’s wrong? Are you shy?”

His chest vibrates underneath you as he chuckles, “What can I say? You make me excited.”

His words have you charmed and feeling warm on the inside. You two sit there in silence, You’re not sure how much time has passed, all you know is Toji’s embrace. The world outside of your car slips away. Your eyes slowly close, in a state of almost falling asleep. Your head rises up and down to the rhythm of Toji’s steady breathing from his chest. You feel his hand in your hair, brushing it back with his fingers, followed by a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t take you to be a cuddler,” You remark softly.

Toji continues to gently touch you, his hand stroking the back of your head, “Who doesn’t like cuddling?”

A smile creeps onto your lips as you lightly goad, “Men like you.”

Toji brings his lips back to your forehead, but instead of kissing you, he speaks against your skin, “Well, I guess I have to show you the man I am then, huh?”

You open your eyes and look up at him through your eyelashes, “Yeah,” You agree, giving him a light squeeze with your arms, “you’ll have to show me.”

You notice that he doesn’t have the stubble from last time. Your hand comes up to the side of his face and he leans into it, a small smile on his lips. Your thumb traces over his cheek, taking your time to remember how his skin feels smooth without the facial hair. Gradually, your fingers move down to the corner of his lips, finding their way to his pretty scar.

“Can I guess how you got this?” You propose.

Toji hums, flashing you a smile, “How about if you guess wrong, you have to give these bad boys the massage they deserve?” He lifts his hand, wiggling his wrist side to side.

Your hand goes to his, palm resting against his, initiating to hold it. Both of your fingers lace with one another, his calloused skin in contrast to your soft ones. “It must have been a fight,” You begin, waiting for his reaction, “Is that correct?’

Toji’s eyes scan your face before answering, “It was through violence, yes.”

You giggle happily, slightly kicking your feet, “So, I got it correct?”

“Well, that’s too broad,” Toji objects, “you need to be more specific.”

You pout, “Come on,” slouching against him. Your intertwined hands stay that way, in deep thought about how he got the scar that you don’t even realize his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. “If it was through violence, and it’s a scar like that,” Your eyes flicker up to his lips, “it looks like it was done by a knife.”

Toji leans down, his nose bumping in with yours. The movement was unexpected so it has your face flushed with heat. His lips brush against your cheek, and in a whisper, he says, “You’re correct.”

The two of you stay close that way for a brief moment, your heart trying to leap out of your ribcage. God, he’s irresistible. All you want to do is ride him right then and there. You change the atmosphere by directing your attention to his hand, more specifically, your intertwined hands.

“Let me take a closer look at them,” You have to take your fingers out from his grasp and bring his wrist closer to you. Toji watches you with an amused look on his face, fully aware of your flustered state.

“You got it right, you know,” Toji says, “you only needed to massage my wrists if you got it wrong.”

“I know,” You state, your fingers already working at massaging his tense wrists. You can feel him relax, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips.

“You’re really good, you know,” Toji comments, “at what you do.”

You try to act laid back, shrugging your shoulders, “It’s my job.”

“Still,” Toji adds, “you’re good at it.”

You massage his wrist in silence, using your thumbs to create upward motions underneath his wrist. Once you’re done, you bring his wrist up to your lips and give it a peck. Toji flinches at the movement in surprise but eventually rests against the backseat of your car as you move onto his next wrist. You do the same routine and then finish it off with another kiss to it once you’re done.

Your hands move to his chest, turning more to your side so that you can lean up and press your lips against yours. Toji grunts in surprise, and you pull an inch back, already feeling the heat that builds up between your bodies.

“I want you,” You whisper, “can I?” Your fingers have already moved to the collar of his white dress shirt, tugging at it.

“Miss L/N,” His voice is slightly shaky, “are you sure you want to do this?”

You nod your head, “I do. You?”

Toji curses under his breath, his hips beginning to grind against your thighs that are against his lap. “Of course I do,” He answers, his large hand coming to the side of your face, “I told you, I keep my promises.”

The two of you kiss, it’s passionate and filled with yearning. It’s evident both of you at this point miss one another whenever you two are apart. Your hands anchor onto the collar of his white button-up while one of his arms is wrapped around your back and the other on the side of your face. Your noses bump with one another as the two of you angle your faces for more access to one another. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, pushing it into your mouth where you obediently open it for him to have more room. He sighs into your mouth from your actions, the sound of your tongues swirling around one another filling up the car.

You two go at it for a while that way, sloppy tongue kissing with both of you being handsy with one another. You feel his firm chest with your hand that then moves to his large biceps, feeling him up shamelessly through the fabric. One of his hands palms your ass, squeezing it to his desire while the other one has moved up to the back of your neck. The two of you find yourselves shifting, where you’re laid further back until your back is against the seat and he’s hovering over you. You’re hazy at this point, out of breath, your thighs squeezing against one another. His fingers lace themselves into your hair, his tongue practically touching the back of your throat. He’s moaning and groaning, continuing to rub his hardened crotch against you.

He gives you a break, his forehead resting against yours as both of you catch your breaths. Despite it being dark, you catch the way his lips shimmer from your saliva. You catch the way his eyes soften as he traces his thumb alongside your face, making you shiver. You can feel it, there’s something different between the two of you tonight. You can’t pinpoint what it exactly is, but it’s the way he’s looking at you and touching you. His thumb moves to the corner of your mouth, and you open it without him having to say anything. He places it in and you suckle on it, eyes fluttering shut from how good it feels.

“Good girl,” You hear him say, voice low, “How are you always so good to me?”

You swirl your tongue around his thumb, prompting him to shove it further into your mouth until you gag. He pulls out at that point, leaving you to feel empty. You frown, a whimper coming from somewhere in you that surprises you. Toji chuckles, making up for it as he leans down to kiss you on the mouth again. Something brushes up against your chest, hitting the bare skin of your collarbone. When you break the kiss to look, it glints underneath the street lights; he’s wearing a necklace. That’s new. Instinctively, your fingers take hold of the necklace, specifically the pendant at the end of it. Toji above you freezes, his green eyes attentively watching you.

You ask softly, “What’s this?”

Toji swallows, clearing his throat, “Sorry,” He’s leaning off of you and sitting up, the necklace slipping from your fingers. You follow by sitting up as well, straightening out your shirt. He’s running a hand through his hair and saying again, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You reassure him, “this is the first time you’re wearing it.”

He responds curtly, “I know.”

You’ve struck a chord, so you don’t push it. You look out the window, “I can drive you back to your place if you want.”

To your surprise, you hear Toji confess, “It’s my wife’s.”

Your eyes widen, your head snapping to look at him, “You’re married?” A knot forms in your stomach. Have you been fucking a married man?!

This time, Toji is the one to appear panicked, “No!” His voice raises regret to appear on his face from the stiffness of his tone. “No,” He says again, calmer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Shit, Miss L/N.”

You find yourself saying, “Toji, I can’t be doing this if you have someone—”

Toji doesn’t let you finish, “She’s dead.”

A heavy silence falls over the both of you. You weren’t expecting to hear those words from him. Questions flooded your head; How long was he married? When did she die? How did they meet? If he hadn’t worn the necklace tonight, would he have ever told you he was married?

You settle by saying, “I’m sorry, Toji.” He’s looking down in his lap, at his hands. You’ve never seen him look like he was shutting down. Again, you say, in hopes that you’ll be able to get him out of the anchor that’s holding him down; “Toji.”

He looks at you, almost like he’s afraid to do so. You’re not sure whether to hold his hand or just stay put. “Look,” You speak up, “if I’m some kind of rebound for your past marriage, let’s end it here. It’d be the best thing to do.”

“Y/N,” Toji looks surprised by your choice of words, hurt, even. “That’s not what this is,” His tone is stern, his green eyes piercing into yours.

“I just mean if you’re still mourning — which is completely fine. I can’t be some distraction,” You feel selfish for even jumping to this conclusion, but considering your history with men, this is usually how things ended up for you.

There’s a dour look on Toji’s face, “I swear, Miss L/N, you’re not a fucking distraction.”

Your lips clamp shut at his sternness. Both of you look as if the two of you crashed into a brick wall. There’s distance between you two, and not just physically.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Toji continues, “I never tell anyone I used to be married.”

Even you're shocked at the next words that come out of your mouth, “Let’s end it here.”

Toji looks as if you’ve stabbed glass through his chest, outright pain in his features. “And what about my promise?” The way he says it, doesn’t seem to be implying to him fucking your brains out. It makes you wonder, when did the two of you get this close? Or were the two of you even close?

Tears blur your vision, now you’re looking down at your lap, “What about it?” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N,” Hearing your first name come from him makes you turn your head to look at him. You watch as his hand stops midair in touching you. He drops it, “It’s been eighteen years since she died,” he tells you. “Trust me, you’re not a rebound or distraction.” His hand comes up again, this time to your face, but it doesn’t touch your skin. He looks hesitant in his actions, almost as if he’ll touch you, and you will break.

“I’m sorry about your wife,” You affirmed, hoping you weren’t being overbearing by this being your second or third time saying it. He clenches his jaw, his hand finally touching your cheek to wipe the tears before they reach your chin. You ask him, “Did you ever plan to tell me you were married?” He looks defeated by your question, dropping his head and letting out a sigh.

As if he’s gathering his courage, he looks back up to you, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Listen to me,” He looks you dead in the eye, “you can’t know too much about me and my past.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “Why?” You inquire, “Why do you act so mysterious?”

“I’m not trying to be,” He conveys desperately, “it’s just…” he’s struggling like he’s searching for the right articulation. He finally clarifies, “It’s not going to do you any good, sweetheart.”

Your fingers come up to his wrist, wrapping around it, “You can tell me,” You assure him, “there’s no one I would tell.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not that.”

You insist, “Then what?”

He exhales through his nose, his eyes scanning your face attentively. He informs, “I’ll tell you two things…”

Again, you promise him, “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“I used to be married,” He tells you, “and I used to have a son as well. They’re both dead. I can’t tell you how they died. I can’t tell you anything else. I’m telling you this so you know I’m not using you just to forget about my past.”

You're heartbroken at the information he just shared with you. You’re shaking your head lightly, “I’m so sorry,” You say, leaning in and kissing him on the mouth, and in between saying, “I’m sorry, Toji. Sorry, this happened to you.”

Toji kisses you back, more feverishly than before. He’s kissing you almost like if he doesn’t, you’ll evaporate before his eyes. When your hands begin roaming his body, his fingers wrap around your wrists, bringing you to a stop. You two pull back, breathless. His eyebrows are furrowed, looking like he’s about to regret what he’s about to say next.

“Not tonight, princess,” He rasps, referring to anything escalating further. “I want to give you time to process this information.”

“I’m sorry that I said I wanted to end things here,” You acknowledged, feeling embarrassed that you had even said that earlier. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t blame you,” He responded softly, “let it go.”

The two of you sit in silence, remaining in that position, his fingers still clasped around your wrists. It’s peaceful, just sitting there without feeling this urgency to fill it up with words. He puts his forehead against yours, bringing your hands up to his lips. He gives your knuckles light kisses. Everything about him was different tonight, he had this ambiance of vulnerability. He had just shared something so intimate. You weren’t used to it, but you had always craved it; that raw closeness. You chased after it in strictly physical relationships with all the men in your past.

Toji pulled you into him, your face in the crook of his neck. Your body craned into him, arms going around his figure. He reminded you of a tall, strong tree that had been around for hundreds of years. Strong, mighty, and resistant; despite the cracks that were evident inside him.

His palm cradles the back of your head, his eyes fluttering close as he inhales your scent. You feel so small in his arms, it only makes the aching inside of him grow bigger in wanting to protect you. You were a woman that had brought him to tears, and it was then that he realized how priceless submission was. His body couldn’t help it, the blood rushed down to his groin, where he was hard all over again. That was the other thing about you, he felt like a horny youngster who couldn’t get enough of lovemaking. As badly as he wanted to have you sprawled underneath him at the moment and fuck you until you were sobbing – that mature part of him knew that tonight wasn’t the night for that.

Your phone ringing startles both of you. Toji’s body stiffens and you jump at it. It makes you want to groan out in frustration. Toji gives you space and you apologize for the sudden interruption. You scoot to the edge of the seat and reach over to grab where your phone was sitting in the console. Your phone screen flashes with Naoya’s name. It makes a knot form in your stomach.

“This shouldn’t take long,” You tell Toji, and bring the phone to your ear. “Hey,” You greet, trying to make yourself appear as relaxed as possible.

“There you are,” Naoya’s smug voice rings through the phone, “I’ve been texting you.”

“You have?” You ask, quickly bringing the phone down to take a look, and sure enough, he had texted you five times in a row. You bring the phone back up to your ear, “Sorry, it was on silent.”

“Let me see you tonight,” He notes, “at your place. Wear the cat headband and lingerie.”

You bite your bottom lip, you can’t say no, not here, in front of Toji. You don’t want Toji to be aware that you could be hooking up with someone tonight. Besides, the last time you saw Naoya was at the club – which was also the night you saw Toji and that led you two into that one room…

You also hadn’t hooked up with anyone ever since you started having sex with Toji. You two haven’t had that conversation yet but it just sort of happened. Ever since you’ve begun having sex with Toji, you realize that all the sex you have had up until that point was nothing compared to how he fucked you. Now you know what a true man was…

You give in, “Sure,” Your voice sounds so quiet that it surprises you, “I’ll be home a little bit here.” You end the call and force a smile onto your face, “Do you want a ride back?” You ask Toji.

Toji surprises you as he cups the side of your face with his calloused hand. Goosebumps appear across your skin, and he leans in to kiss you. It’s a farewell type of kiss; soft, passionate, and filled with yearning. Before he pulls away, he teases you with his tongue swiping against your bottom lips. He pulls back, his thumb tracing small circles against your cheek.

“You okay?” He asks you.

“Yeah!” You squeak at him, “Yeah, why?”

His green eyes scan your face, “Just want to make sure my girl is okay before we part ways.”

You lean into his palm, closing your eyes, wanting to remember how he feels against you like this. A shaky sigh falls from your lips, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’ll take a cab back,” Toji tells you, “you head on home. Get some good sleep.”

Guilt thrusts at you upon hearing his words. You wanted to cry, jump back into his arms and tell him how uncomfortable you are going back to your place. You didn’t want to see Naoya. Not anymore. Not after meeting Toji. You didn’t care or desire to see anyone else. You just wanted Toji. What was scarier, you felt like you needed him.

Instead, you hear yourself say, “Get some sleep yourself.”

Toji chuckles deeply and presses one last kiss, this time to your forehead, “Make sure to dream about me, sweets.”

┅

You’re on the verge of throwing up. A heavy lump sits in your throat as you get dressed up. Your breathing trembles and your limbs feel like pins and needles. Naoya was supposed to show up any minute now. You slipped the lace sleeves over your arms to hide the scars. You had already done your makeup and hair. You had fucked Naoya plenty of times. But again, that was before Toji. Something creeps up on you like a shadow trying to embrace you.

Naoya was rough with you. But not like Toji. Naoya was rough with you in a way that felt like he was throwing around a rag doll to his liking. Whereas with Toji, he was rough with you which made you feel good. Toji cared for your pleasure. Naoya did not. You had known this from the beginning but felt like that was the best you could get. That was until you met Toji…

There was a knock at your door, making you drop your lipstick. Some of it smeared on your fingertips as you tried to grab it. You cursed under your breath and finished applying it. When you opened the door for Naoya, his lips crashed into yours. It caught your breath in your mouth. He kicked the door behind him, caging you in his arms. You made a muffled noise against his lips.

He kept going, pushing you back until eventually, your legs met the couch. His hands were all over you, groping your breasts, hips, ass and anywhere else he could. You felt like you were fragmented, unable to push him away. His body against yours was suffocating. Your knees bent and you fell back against the cushions of the couch.

“It’s been a while,” Naoya’s hands worked at the buckle of his belt, “put your legs up.”

You looked up at the ceiling, finding your body moving for you as you stuck your legs up in the air for him. Your mind was screaming at you to make this stop. And like a pathetic damsel in distress, you wished for your knight in shining armor to come and make all of this stop. Your knight was rough in all the right places. Rough to still make you feel good, fuck, even loved.

You heard the tearing of a condom packet get undone, as he muttered, “Good kitty.”

The pet name from him made you wince, physically. That pet name only sounded good from Toji. The bells on your cat's headband rang as Naoya shoved your thighs against your thigh from the sudden action. It made you gasp, pain shooting up your legs from just how painfully rough he was being with you. He tapped his hard dick against your clit, your body twitching from the sensation. You closed your eyes and held your breath, praying that it’d all be over soon…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The loud knocks coming from your door put a pause on Naoya’s actions. His dick was sitting at your entrance. He looked down at you, an impatient look on his face.

“Who is that?” He practically spits the question at you.

Your arms tremble as you push yourself to sit up. “I don’t know,” You tell him, your mind racing with who it could be. “The only person who would show up at this time would be my dad.”

Naoya lets out an exasperated breath, “Why the fuck is your dad here?”

You’re getting off the couch, your body feeling like jelly. Your heart is pounding, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the knocking on the door or that you are finally out of Naoya’s python grip.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Jesus Christ!” Naoya seethes, shoving his dick back into his pants, “Just answer the damn door.”

“I-I need to put something on,” You stumble over your words.

Naoya doesn’t listen nor give you a chance to do so. He strides over to the door, and opens it…

#gojosoath<3 #toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji smut #toji fanfic #jujustu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jjk fanfic #toji angst #toji fluff #toji fic #jjk fic #toji x reader

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magnoliabutters · 1 year ago

Text

• I THINK WE’RE ALONE NOW •

pairing: eddie munson x (he/him) reader

summary: finally, you find yourself truly alone with munson…

warnings: 18+, mdni, adult language; novice reader, consent discussions, smut, pet names, references to previous parts, oral (reader receiving), semi-public, aftercare, internal dialogue, etc.

word count: ~4.3k

reblogs for daddy eddie 🥴

• the banished ones • part three •

note: this part is dedicated to my pride 2023 collection! and i’ll tell you rn, i thought i wanted to make this the series finale but i’m having way too much fun. there’s def gonna be one or two more parts to the banished ones series...

“Dude, there is no way Solo shot first, okay?” Gareth yells. The tone of his voice clearly shows his level of dedication to Han. “He would never do that.” You scoff, not being able to hold the laughter within. “What do you mean? That is totally like him!” you reply with a smile. You turn to Munson for encouragement. He was already staring at you behind his curly bangs, holding a deep, beaming grin.

Gareth stands up, ripping the book off the table. “You know what,” he says under his breath as he pushes the DnD: Basic Set into his backpack. “Aw common dude”, you and Ben overlap. “Nah, man, that’s a bit too much Han Solo hating for me,” he says, shaking his finger back and forth. “Gareth, common,” Ben pleads. “Who said I was hating?” you scoff. “I love Han and I love that he shot first.”

With a deep sigh, Gareth quickly says, “Goodbye.” He rushes down the stage’s stairs and out the door. You swear you could see steam coming from his ears. “Damn it,” Ben says as he places a worried hand to his forehead. “What’s wrong, Peterson?” Munson asks in an annoyed sing songy voice. “Gareth was my ride,” he mumbles. “My parents are gonna kill me.”

You turn towards Munson, mouthing “yikes,” but he was already lost in thought. His eyes perk as soon as he figures something out. “Y-you can take my van,” he suggests, grabbing the keys from his denim pant’s pocket. Ben slowly reaches for the keys as though they were gold. “You’re sure?” he asks. “Yeah, J will take me home,” Munson answers with a firm slap to your back.

As Ben’s fingers touch the key’s rings, Munson whispers in his ear, “If you fuck up my van, I fuck you up.” Ben stands straight as possible with blinking eyes as Munson returns to his cheery self. But you aren’t even able to enjoy it. Your mind struggles to accept the fact that you’ll be spending even more time with him, alone. And you know what happens when you two are alone.

“O-okay,” Ben says with a shudder as he hooks his backpack over his shoulder. He walks out hastily, with an occasional look back towards Munson. “I’m sorry, I just assumed,” he laughs charismatically. “Is it alright if you take me home?” You stumble with your words, still trying to process the idea. “Y-yeah, um, that’s fine,” you stutter.

Munson’s smile grows twice in size. His eyes twinkling in a way that makes your heart flutter. “Lead the way,” he says as he gestures towards the auditorium’s entrance. You walk forward with hesitance, a deep swallow to your throat. Your hand shakes as it reaches the keys in your pocket.

He follows behind you. The distance being an odd mixture between nervously close and a good length away. He seems to be a master in the craft, effortlessly moving between touch and distance. But you cannot deny how his touch makes you feel. It transports you somewhere, a place filled with happiness and rocked with your wildest dreams of peace.

Silence fills the remainder of your walks through the halls and into the parking lot. It feels like a wasted opportunity, but no words pop into your head. All you can think about is his hand on your thigh. His fingers tangling with your button and pants. The way your heart pops out of your chest like and old-timey cartoon any time his eyes fall upon your own.

“A Volvo, huh?” Munson asks with a smile as he trails a finger against your hood. You look around the parking lot and realize yours is the last car. No one else is here. “J?” he asks again with a chuckle. One brow raises suspiciously. You quickly turn to him with wide eyes and a self-conscious laugh. You push a hand through your hair sheepishly.

“What were you thinking about?” He asks with a sweet smile that makes your stomach flip somersaults. With a quick inhale, you walk towards him with a smirk. An oh-so-confident smirk that he found curious. “Oh, I was just thinking how you’re going to be my passenger princess,” you say with a sigh. A beaming smile ending your words.

Munson lets out a sharp breath through his nostrils as he shakes his head. A smile forms on his lips as his tongue presses against the roof of his mouth. "Usually, I'm the driver," he says softly with brows raised. You walk closer to him, sliding your hand into the door's handle. You open it and gesture for him to sit down. He takes a second, inhales, and sits down. "You're my princess now," you mutter before closing the door. His wide eyes stare back at you with a gaping, yet amused mouth as you walk to the driver's side.

You take one last look at the parking lot. A second confirmation that the two of you are, in fact, alone. It's not that you need to be alone to with him, or that you want to hide him from others. You find safety and solidarity in the absence of people. The fear of being who you truly are dissipates as they do. This part of you that has been burrowing so deep within finally has the opportunity to come out. Finally, you can get to experience that part of you in your new found reality.

As your hand rests against the handle, tightness pangs against your chest. You have never done this before. You think you know what you want, what you should do, but you have never once done this. You haven't done any of this with anyone, excluding that one horrid birthday party where you played 7-minutes in heaven with Judy Thompson in 8th grade. That kiss is when you knew, without a doubt, that something was off. That girls don't bring the same floating, exciting feelings to your chest. No, no - that feeling was saved for boys, for men. Men like Munson.

You sit down with your hands tight against the steering wheel. You can feel Munson's gaze on you. There is an uneven tension within the air. You've never done this ... but should that stop you? You take in a quivering breath with eyes closed. Your shoulders practically at your ears with the inhale. You turn to him, opening your eyes to those chestnut irises. You instantly feel that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. Your hands slowly reach to his cheeks. You watch as his eyes widen just before yours close and your lips touch.

His lips, pink and supple, feel like clouds against your own. You can feel the soft curls of his hair against your fingertips. With another peck, you feel his hands against your biceps. They support you in your gentle hold against his cheeks. His kisses are sweet, gentle, and loving. You feel as though you had died and gone to heaven. Your Volvo, Munson, and you would be the beautifulest slice of heaven.

Your hands gradually travel further into his hair. Fingers now entangled in those brunette locks. His palms now cup your cheeks. You know he can feel your smile within his hands. With each graze of his lips, you find yourself craving more. Your grip onto his hair becomes tighter. You readjust yourself in your seat as you lean closer to him. He is intoxicating. His smell. His touch. His taste.

Without further delay, you lightly brush your tongue against his lips. You are met with the strength of his own as your mouths widen. The blood drains from your face as you feel pressure in your stomach. He now pushes against you, coming closer and closer to you. Somehow you disconnect from your body and your subconscious reaches for the handle to push your seat back.

Munson takes the cue and gracefully lands his knee beside your outer thigh. He straddles your legs. His curls now brushing against your face as he peers down to kiss you. You struggle to catch a breath, only because you would rather kiss him forever than to take a second to stop. Your hands nervously raise to his hips as his remain on your cheeks. His nails dig into your skin, an exciting sensation.

As his tongue now resides in your mouth and his breath is hot upon your lips, your hands travel up his back. Your grip tightening with each second that passes. Slowly, you feel his hips begin to move. Panic strikes you as you feel all the blood reach your lower extremities. Your kisses are more rushed. Your hands more careful. It's almost as though your mind and its bundle of overwhelming thoughts has returned.

With each rut of his hips, Munson's friction against your jeans becomes harder and harder. You open your eyes, staring at your car's beige clothed roof - still kissing him, but praying to the fucking gods that you don't bust right here. You have never felt so good. Never felt so alive.

You can feel your body tensing up. You can feel that familiar hot and firm sensation in your pants. His thrusts against your lap never stopped. Not that you would ever want them to stop. You don't want to get a boner too early. Is there such a thing as too early? Fuck, man. Maybe think of feet, or salamanders, or-or volcanos - wait, no, not volcanos.

As he leans over you, your hands find a sweet, bare spot at the base of his spine. Your fingertips explore digging under his shirt. His skin is soft and warm. Fuck, this isn't helping. You start to pull away for some breaths, but he doesn't stop. His sweet lips now find a place against the nape of your neck. His cool breath sending shiver downs your spine. Fuck, that doesn't help either!

Gradually, Munson's movements slow down. He pulls his lips away from your neck, which almost makes you whimper. His eyes fall upon you with a straight face. Yours undeniably expresses worry as you look his way. "Lean the chair back and scoot up," he says calmly as his hips maintain an easy grind against your lap.

While still presenting those worried lines on your face, you reach down to pull up the seat's handle. It reclines until it hits the back seat. You sit frozen. "Now, scoot up," he coos. You catch a hint of a smile in reaction to your innocence. You reluctantly pull your hands from his hips as you scoot back to the headrest of the chair. Your torso leans against the backseat.

As you move, Munson adjusts himself where he kneels on the car floor and rests between your legs. Your eyes widen at the sight. Your mouth practically watering. The tent in your pants becoming more and more unavoidable. His hands press firmly into your thighs. A sensation you would imagine would be comparable to a massage. "May I?" he asks softly. His hands now resting in the spot where your thighs and hips meet. "I felt you," he murmurs. "It felt good."

Your entire body feels as though its filled with pins and needles. Nervousness rips the breath right from under you. Words aren't coming out, well - if you even had words to say right now. Your mind is completely blank. Then all of a sudden, words come out without your intent or knowledge. "I've never done this before," you whisper. Your eyes fall to your chest as your jaw clenches. Stupid, you think. Why did you tell him?

Munson leans over your body once more. His chest heavy against your hips. Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "It's okay," he says. A deep breath you hadn't noticed you were holding releases. "I'll take care of you," he soothes as he floats back onto his knees. His eyes are glued to you as his hands reach your pants. His fingers unbutton your jeans, relieving some pressure - at least physically. He then tucks his fingers into your waistline and pulls them down. You nervously help him get the jeans from under you, but he continues to pull them to your knees by himself.

One hand presses harshly against your chin, covering your mouth. The other shakes, tapping fingers against your thigh. He quickly notices and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your shaking stops as you feel his comforting embrace. "I'm going to ask again," he says softly. "I need you to be honest with me. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do." You nod hastily. Your vocal box no longer attached to your body. "Do you want me to keep going?"

You take a second to think, as much as you wanted to immediately say "yes." Your mind reels over the possibilities. If you say no, will you ever have this chance again? If you say yes, will you regret it? You'll be giving yourself, all of yourself to him - a boy, a-a man you just met today. But this man isn't just anyone. He isn't the first gay man you've ever met. There is something about him that gives you courage. That makes you feel like you can do anything, be anything. Like you can dare to be your true self. You deserve to be your true self, to follow your heart.

"Yes," you say with the utmost confidence. That little nervousness in the back of your throat persists, but you acknowledge that it's because this is your first time being this intimate with someone. Not that you are worried that this may be a mistake. You are more confident now than ever in knowing that this is most definitely not a mistake.

Munson nods, a slight smile to his face. He peers down at your checkered boxers. "Hm, I was expecting something a little brighter," he jokes. You let out a chuckle of relief. "Maybe next time," you say softly. "Oh, there's going to be a next time?" he asks sincerely. Your heart drops as anxiety fills it again. "I hope so," you softly plead, shooting him those worried eyes he's come to enjoy. With a smile, he shares, "I hope so too."

He tucks his fingers underneath the elastic of your boxers. You rush your hands to your eyes. Somehow it makes sense to hide. He smiles as he pulls further down. You feel your cock flip to your stomach, firm as can be. Your pants now joined by another garment.

The pressure on your eyes stronger than ever. "Oh fuck," Munson says breathlessly. You tear your hands from your eyes to see what was wrong. Your gaze lands upon him. The tongue that slicks his bottom lip. The eyes that gleam and twinkle. The teeth that dig into the flesh of his lips.

His breathing now matches yours. You wonder if he's nervous too. The sight excites you as you slowly become more confident in your bare and exposed body. “Oh man,” he mumbles to himself. Another uptick in your stress meter. “I can work with this, J.” His jaw tightens as he takes more deep inhale. You can’t help the smile broadening across your face.

Munson’s hand slowly rests at your hip bones. His skin against yours is a pleasure you never thought to have existed. Let alone a sensation you would be able to experience with someone else. His hand slowly slides closer and closer to your base. You can feel yourself twitching in anticipation.

His fingers slowly collapse around your girth. You bite your lip, hoping to keep a moan from coming out. He looks up to you with a laugh as he slowly raises his grip and slides it back down. “I like seeing you squirm,” he says with a raising brow. It feels like a taunt. Like a ball served over the net, expecting your return. You nervously laugh, from the situation and the new sensations. “I like your hand on my cock,” you say.

Immediate regret fills your face and you struggle to keep your cool. But without missing a beat, you naturally add, “Princess.” Munson huffs with a glowing grin. Another side nod and the sexiest words fall from his mouth. “Okay, daddy.” You can’t help but squirm again, especially since he decided to squeeze a bit harder with his last word.

A harsh breath escapes you as his movement quickens. You find your hips wanting to move with him. Little moans you can’t help leave you. You have never felt so damn good. His thumb brushes against your head ever so lightly. You are as red as can be. Your sensitivity levels on max. “Mm,” you let out as your head falls back and you lick your lips.

His movements continue. Up and down. Pulsating squeezes. A thumb to rub the head. Suddenly, you hear a spit, followed by a sudden coolness against your cock. His fingers slipping much easier, much quicker against your skin. “Oh fuck,” you painfully plead, desperate not to blow too early. Not only would that be embarrassing, but you most definitely want more and more of this touching.

“Mmm, good boy,” Munson murmurs in response. Your crown still pressed against the headrest. Your body tight. Eyes closed shut. You feel a soft breath against your head, another new feeling. Then you feel a familiar softness as it wraps around your cock. A warm, moist spot that makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Curiously, you look down and see his curly mane bobbing against your groin. “Oh shit,” you say desperately. Your eyes wide open now. Almost involuntarily, your hand returns to its favorite spot, to tangling within his locks. His tongue swirls around your head in a way that makes you dizzy. How could this feel even better than the last? How could anything feel better than this?

Another brush of his tongue and you truly are struggling to hold it in. Sweat bullets drop from your forehead. You pull your eyes away from him, hoping maybe that would help. Of course, it does not. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble to yourself. A hand now resting against your mouth.

At your mewling sounds, Munson finally takes all of you in. You feel his tongue slick and firm against your raging cock. The warmth that you never knew you craved. His hand now gently cupping your balls. A soft thumb rubbing over them. “M-M-Munson,” you call out, trying to warn him. But in this world, filled with pleasure, there are no words. No words you or he could muster.

Once you feel that pit in your stomach, you finally disconnect from your brain and live in the moment. Your hips begin to rut as his hands support him at the tops of your thighs. The fingers deep within his curls begin to tighten and tug. The moans falling from your lips no longer filtered. Your other hand smacks against the door frame, digging your nails into the window’s pocket.

Abruptly, Munson pulls up from your cock with a gasp. Saliva strings still connecting you two together. One hand wipes it off his lips as the other grabs firmly at your base. His movements now quicker than ever, following the lead of your hips. The pit in your stomach grows deeper and deeper until…

“Fuck!” you yell in a whisper. You feel the familiar warmth spots falling against your stomach and thighs. Your hips still rutting against him. His hand still tight, but with smoother slides up and down. His other hand lightly massages the top of your thigh. You feel your high slowly fading away, thankful for his support in guiding you down.

Gradually, your eyes open to the sight of Munson hiding behind a strand of his hair. A guilty, sheepish smile behind the curls. You laugh despite your exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says sweetly as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You quickly raise up, pulling your legs from under him.

“No, no,” you say with a waving of your hand. “I got it.” You pull the bottom of your shirt over your head. He’s seen your cock, you figure he could see your chest - despite the dependable self-conscious feeling of the act. You roll your shirt into a ball and gently grab his hand to wipe off any remaining cum. Then you wipe the cum off your skin. “I might like being the princess,” he says softly, but you could only hear a mumble. “What was that?” you say as you raise your head from your cleaning.

Munson shakes his head, pushing his lips out into a mix of pout and grin, as he answers, “Nothing.” Clearing his throat, he adds, “We should probably get going. Janitors usually get in at 10.” He takes one look, another bite to his lip, before pulling away. He crawls over to the passenger seat before peering back at you. “They get cranky if they find anyone on campus.”

“How would you know?” you say with a grin. You find relief in your conversations remaining random and comfortable. You start to pull your boxers and jeans up. “There’s no time limit on finishing a campaign, okay?” he retorts. You can’t help but laugh as you hook your button closed. You gracefully pull the seat up and to a comfortable position to the wheel. Seat belt across your torso and buckled in. He watches intently.

As you reverse the car, you ask, “Where to, Munson?” In a booming, announcing voice, he states, “Forest Hills Trailer Park.” Another chuckle falls as you shake your head. “I have no fucking clue where that is,” you say. He responds hastily, “Oh, right, um … Turn right here.” You turn on your blinker and steer right out of the parking lot and into the road. Out of the side of your eye, you see a hint of confusion across his face.

“Okay, so at the next stop sign, you wanna take a right,” Munson says with another point to the right. You have to hand it to him. He’s a pretty good tour guide. The man has you turning back and forth every other street where you just so happen to pass by what he thinks is the coolest parts of Hawkins. You press on your breaks a good few meters away from the stop sign as you have been taught. But, again, you receive a confused glancing look.

“What?” you scoff. “Oh nothing,” Munson says as he turns his torso back towards the road. “Bullshit,” you say as you come to a complete stop. You flip on your blinker and wait three seconds before turning. He looks as though he might burst. Whatever words he has, he is holding them back with tears in his eyes.

“Spit it out, Munson,” you taunt. “Or should I say ‘Eddie?’” He takes in a deep breath, pinching his pointer and thumb together. “You drive like a grandma,” he says calmly and slowly. “What?!” you ask with incredulous laughter. “What because I follow the law?”

Munson takes in a sharp breath as his smile becomes a thin line. Your words almost seem painful to him. “The law?” he asks in a bit of a choke. “Oh, what, like you don’t?” you ask with a scoff. He shakes his head inquisitively. He draws your attention to his torso with no seat belt. He digs into his pocket and reveals a blunt and zippo lighter. He grabs hold of his collar, pulling it down to show the tattoo of a black detailed spider.

“Impressive,” you say while nodding. “Dangerous,” you add as you reach for the passenger seat belt. “Put it on, princess.” Munson rolls his eyes but complies with a smile as your gaze returns to the road. “Let’s just say,” you continue, trying to hype yourself up. “I follow the law of the road.”

Your failed attempt has Munson cackling. Stifling his laugh, he asks, “Do you have any tattoos?” You snort at the idea. “You just saw me naked. I feel like you should know.” He shoots you his bullshit grin. “I didn’t see your ass, or your back,” he starts. “But you wished you did, huh?” you lean over to him, biting your bottom lip.

His smile now quivers as his eyes look at your lips. “Maybe,” he says with a rising pitch. His blushing cheeks suddenly become the best thing you have ever seen. You struggle to fight the urge to not kiss him. Your eyes have to be on the road, remember?

“Oh! Forest Hills, right?” You point towards the barely lit sign. It rests in a field of dirt with patches of grass. You click your blinker to turn left. “Yeah,” Munson adds, abruptly pulled from the flirtatious moment he was enjoying. “It’s the trailer in the back and to the right.”

You pull onto another patch of dirt in front of the Munson trailer. Your headlights shining brightly against the metal. Your heart sinks as you put your car into park. You thought you were ready to say goodbye, to see him tomorrow for more inconspicuous, daring flirting and touching in public. But no. You aren’t ready. You want to stay in this car, stay with him forever. Your hands never leave the steering wheel. Your eyes stare into the odometer as you attempt to think of a clever idea to keep the night going.

“I owe you a shirt,” Munson says, drawing your attention. “You should come in.” Your heart leaps, your mouth drops. A small piece of you considers telepathy, but you quickly push that thought away. “Yeah, I should. Shouldn’t I?” you say with a smile as you turn off the ignition and rest your keys on your lap. He laughs at your fast response. Those blushing cheeks return.

“Lead the way, Munson.”

note: thank you for so much for reading! have a happy & safe pride! just remember, there is more to come...

comment and/or reblog if you'd like to join the taglist!

taglist: (thank you!) @wolfiescosplay, @eddiesprettygirl, @unholycheesesnack, & @wrandomwritting

• series • updates • pride pairings collection •

81 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm the Andras anon! (I'll have to come up with a nickname soon sdsa)! Thank you again for indulging me with the last ask! I'll come back to it once I'll re-read the books (... why can't I be freeeeeee) but I saw your reblog about the powers of every "main characters" of Acotar, and I was wondering: Is Feyre really as strong as Rhysand? Because, for one, she's a very, a veeery biased character. Her point of view of the IC (of Rhysand especially) is way over the top.

The HL are defined as pure power and yes, they used a drop of that to bring her back to life, but if a drop of all of them makes her so strong... what does this mean about theirs at 100/99% with all of theirs? Because we didn't actually see them using their true strength and I believe them to be pretty big scary. (something truly magnificent and terrifying, an eerie fae horror... mhm... so much potentiaaaaaal)

I wonder if SJM did forget what she has even said in the past and truly believes Feyre's POV to be the truth, or if she's truly playing with the unreliable narrator trope through her.

Another thing is: could her drops... be consumed? The more power of one of them she uses, the more of it is burned away, until nothing remains.

I think that would be actually so cool and a stake in her powers.

An HC of mine is that if once she loses one - maybe that of Tamlin, since it's the one she uses the most if I remember correctly - and her power lessens... would the mate bond begin to shatter? Would she die if all of them were lost/consumed?

Her powers were never a gift of the cauldron, she's not blessed by the mother, she's... an artificial High Fae. A "fake" High Lady. Is their bond actually real and not maybe a trick, something temporary, or something else altogether?

Why did Rhysand need to make that deal at the start to own her? (I have another theory for the deal that he makes with her at the beginning) And could the death pact be another one to solidify this fickle/fake/other type of bond?

It's all so tricky, because most of the POVs we saw are from people who know almost to nothing about Prythian and we too, as readers, are not omniscient to all of its secrets and traditions.

Most of what we know is thanks to what is told to Feyre, but how much truth is given to her?

If we think about it, especially thanks to acosf (and the other books) we know that Rhysand and the IC omit and lie to Feyre and to other people.

So... idk, I know I lost the plot in my ranting and blathering, but it's something that I know I'll think more about, coming back with a clearer vision! And sorry for this mess of an ask! I know it's a bit over the place, it's mostly me thinking and theorizing on the go lol

I hope it didn't bother you too much and If it did let me know, and I will stop with these ask!

I hope you're having a great day/night! ♥

Yes I love this questionnn

Never stop with the asks, I love them so much! (We def gotta come up with nickname ideas, maybe wolf, considering Andras was turned into a wolf)

When I was writing that reblog the first thought to come to mind was where to put Feyre on the scale. Because of how vague the mating bonds and her powers are, I decided to put her with Rhys as it seems to be a common theme to make mates 'equals' in some way. Plus, yeah she's always praising her powers, and SJM seems to have a thing with making her characters OP for no apparent reason.

To kick off with my general answer to whether I think Feyre is actually all that powerful- No, I do not think she is that powerful. I think she thinks she's that powerful due to Rhysand's influence, and being a Daemati, but I do not believe she is the most powerful.

You pointed out a lot of my same reasoning. Mostly around the fact that Feyre is technically an 'artificial Fae' and it appears as though her very being staying alive is completely dependent on the drops of power she was given, plus despite her having a drop of power from each court. It is still only a drop. So why would she be considered equal to the most powerful?

I think SJM genuinely didnt think to far ahead with Feyre's powers and character. It also appears as though she doesnt actually write the magic system in ACOTAR very well compared to her other series. Throne of Glass and CC in my opinion were far better fleshed out when it came to the MC's powers. When it comes to the FMC of this series tho, they never fully reveal their powers and never in a 'foreshadowing' way, but in a 'they just genuinely dont focus on them' way.

This is especially obvious with Nesta when she was locked up in the HoW. She never once trained her magic, rather she was forced to train her body and how to wield a sword. This very much came off to me like the IC was trying to control her rather than help her, but considering that SJM seems to consider what they did genuine help, I will blame her writing rather than intention in this scenario.

Same happens with Feyre, she doesnt train a lot of her power. She doesnt focus on it, rather she trains her body and learns to wield a sword. Her magic is rarely focused in on, and really only comes into play when it's convenient for the narrative.

The only real inkling we get of how much magic Feyre technically wields is in the scenes where they are going on about equality (that isnt real equality) and how Feyre and Rhysand are equals in every way, including in power.

Ofc we never actually see them being equal in power, but thats what SJM has decided is happening.

I call it bad characterization and considering that Feyre's arc appears to be over and we arent focusing in on her anymore, I highly doubt any of this will be expanded on or rectified.

Anyway, thats just my rambling. But I like your idea of Feyre's drops of magic 'burning out' that seems like a very interesting idea for a fic! You have a good night/day too!

#acotar #feyre archeron #critcal feyre archeron #character critique #critical sjm #acotar headcanons #acotar rant

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miraculousstories · 1 year ago

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List of my fav mlb fanfics no one asked for:

(this is a very long list btw, and all links are to ao3. I try to include as many warnings as possible, but I may forget some so please read the tags before reading the fic.)

Baby Boom by ShawnaCanon

It’s about an akuma that causes everyone in Paris to… do the deed… (not graphic) and every woman to get pregnant. It somehow evolves into a timetravel fic-

400,000 words- def recommend for readers who are okay with vague references to sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034028/chapters/55083382

Dearly Despised (I Love You) by snacc-noir

Lovely fic. A nice take on the adrienette enemies to lovers trope, and it adds in some fake dating. Cn and Lb start out as (more or less) lovers in the beginning, and it evolves from there. It’s not a finished fic, but still, if you’re willing to wait then read.

73,000 words so far (I’ll update as time goes on) and 33 chapters- totally clean fic, I recommend if you love enemies to lovers trope.

(Last update on the fic was 10/20/2023)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711611/chapters/70393941

Turn Loose the Mermaids by bookskitten

WONDERFUL. That is all I have to say about this. One of my personal favorites for sure- it’s a mermaid au where Marinette is a siren hellbent on dragging the captain of a ship (who just so happens to be Adrien- aka Captain Noir)down to the depths of the ocean… but you know it won’t end that simply.

64,000 words- WARNING- GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEX. I do not recommend for anyone not comfortable with that sort of thing. But if you are, go read! I promise it’ll be worth your time.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238214/chapters/18879793

Cut My Life into Pieces, This is My Last Resort by Silver_fox_fyre

This was… an interesting one to say the least. In this, Marinette is at the end of the rope- struggling with being both Marinette and Ladybug. So, of course the logical decision would be to fake her own death. Well, Marinette’s death, that is. Be warned, some of the excuses are kind of a long shot (for instance, she fakes her own death by using the mouse miraculous- only she doesn’t actually have the costume, she just looks normal.)

114,000 words- completely clean- characters do fall asleep on each other like…once, but nothing happens. Some passionate kisses, but that’s all. Lots of violence though, and blood and gore are a given. Character death is included as well. I recommend for braver readers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44353420/chapters/111546223

In Case You Don’t Know Me Tomorrow by thelibraryloser

This one is… an interesting one at best, a strange one at worst. The idea itself is that this is a universe where you can pay to have your memories erased. (No plot spoilers there) everyone is aged up in this, maybe around 20, 25. Non-magical universe as well.

56,000 words- a good fic, I’ll say, but it is a bit weird and I got bored of it at times. But stick around to the end and you’ll be rewarded, I promise. Clean as well, don’t worry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41522079/chapters/104136594

Miraculous Magic: First Year by spetember

*gasp* Is this- it is! The mlb/Harry Potter crossover you’ve all been waiting for!! Marinette and Adrien are 11 year olds who have just received their Hogwarts acceptance letters. They receive magical artifacts- and are told by Headmaster Fu that they must strive to defeat the Dark Lord Hawkmoth. They are 11, so while Mari does develop a crush for Adrien near the end of the fic, there isn’t much love. But honestly? I didn’t miss it. There’s so much action- I loved it. I’m thinking of writing spin-off fics about the other years, so if I do I’ll post the link in the reblogs.

58,000 words- wonderful. Simply wonderful. Mild violence, but no worse than the actual Harry Potter. Nothing related to love, as I mentioned. They are 11 after all. If you are in both the hp and mlb fandoms, I def recommend.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558436/chapters/25960689

Longest Night by P_Artsypants

Whump fic. Must I go on? Jokes aside, this fic is amazing. Marinette and Adrien are captured by some psychopath, and are tortured. I mean really tortured. Like I had to walk away at times it was so much- and this is coming from the person who regularly reads violence and smut. But if you can make it through, it’s a wonderful story. I don’t wanna spoil anything… but they do make it out alive. Well… kinda. I’ll let you read to find out.

210,000 words- Okay, I know I like to joke around a lot, but this time I��m serious. This is a very graphic fic which includes torture, and I mean real torture- not just the stuff you see on TV, but the stuff you see in R- rated horror movies. The fic actually references that the plot is similar to a horror film that actually got banned from almost every country in the world because it was so horrible. (The fic isn’t as bad as the film, but it is kinda horrifying.) Just for reference, here’s some torture tactics they use: Forced piercings, locked in a closet for a month, food loafs (a bunch of leftover food that’s baked with poison that makes you hallucinate) and.. well, there’s blood. I’ll just say that much. PLEASE use caution when reading, I will not say that again. For extremely brave readers only. Oh, and a side not- not completely clean. There is a sex scene at the end, which is skippable but if you are comfortable I would read it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855210/chapters/47019550

The Strings of Fate by sailortwilightt

OKAY BACK TO THE NICE FICS. This is actually a two-parter, and it’s nail-biting good. It’s a soulmate AU, naturally, where an invisible red string takes you to your soulmate. Please note that this is an older fic written before the more recent seasons, so Emilie, for example, is not dead. This also evolves into an alternate dimension AU, and it has a great plot.

120,000 words- counting both fics. As warnings go, there isn’t much to warn. It’s clean as far as smut goes, and, while there is definitely some graphic violence scenes, nothing too bad. I recommend for the reader who isn’t too bothered by the canon-fanon differences.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/919836

Miraculous Moves Underground by LadyDi1980

Okay, so I’m sure you’ve seen the post about this fic floating around. It’s a dancing au, which features the clashing worlds of ballet and hip-hop. Non-magical, but I didn’t miss it. Wonderful au, really, and I def recommend.

104,000 words- clean fic. No violence (except for a few slaps initiated and recieved by none other than Gabriel Agreste) and no smut. There are some songs and images that don’t work attached to the fox. So be prepared for some disappointment in that department. Also, the music is mostly BTS.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203476/chapters/16346582

Blanks by DipStick45

For those of you who stayed around until the end, you’re amazing. This is my favorite fox by far, and it’s absolutely incredible. It’s a zombie apocalypse au, but it’s much more sophisticated than the usual zombies one. The actual word zombie isn’t used once in the fic. Oh and by the way, this fic made me cry. I have never cried from any book, tv show, or other fic in my life, but I cried in this one. Why? You’ll just have to find out!! Oh and also, this is only 2 chapters. Apparently they were doing a one-chapter challenge, but ao3 has a word limit for chapters. READ. I WILL PERSONALLY FORCE YOU.

103,000 words- okay so despite what I said- here are the warnings: major character death. I won’t say more for now. Violence. As expected, only times 10. Someone gets beheaded, another gets themselves split in half. The actual zombie bite’s effects are also quite graphic. There IS one smut scene, but it’s not detailed. And Adrien was high anyways. Oh yeah, alcohol use, and… I mean… they do describe the human body in some detail, but it’s not that bad. Chloe is insane, by the way, so there’s that. I think that’s it. If you’re okay with that, then read. I beg of you.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43755576/chapters/110030079

And that’s it! I hope you enjoyed this very long list of fics! Lemme know what you think of them!

#miraculous ladybug #ml ladybug #adrien agreste #miraculous #miraculous marinette #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fic #fanfic suggestions #you wont regret it #read the warnings #i beg of you #I don’t want anything to happen to you guys because you ignored my warnings

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