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jockbroski34 · 8 months ago

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The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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sfznyxio · 2 months ago

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-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

��༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous “king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake.

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

#♪ .fics #♪ .nyxplicit #house of solis occasum #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut

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lilywastaken · 2 years ago

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⇝ shadow .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART TWO OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.

A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!

WORD COUNT: 10k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.

The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.

Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.

Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.

Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.

And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.

It was like a slap in the face.

One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.

"You-"

"Did you keep it?"

As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.

"It? Wh-"

"Him. Our son."

Our son.

It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.

"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."

"I was gone."

"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."

"You don't understa-"

"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"

Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"

"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."

Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just

"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"

The door slammed shut.

Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.

You'd closed the door on him.

You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.

He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.

It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-

The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.

You were letting him in.

That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.

No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.

The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.

Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.

It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.

Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.

You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.

You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.

A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.

His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.

You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.

Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.

"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."

Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.

The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.

When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.

But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.

So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.

You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.

But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.

"Are y-"

"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."

Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.

"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…

Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.

"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."

He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.

The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.

"...so? Are you going to explain?"

Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.

But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.

He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.

"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"

"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."

His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?

"What do you work in?"

"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."

Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.

Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.

And it was terrifying.

You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.

You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.

"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.

"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."

You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.

"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.

"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.

"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"

You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.

"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone."

Silence.

The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.

"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."

"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.

"I'm not raising my vo-"

A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.

You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.

"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."

Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."

His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.

Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.

"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.

"I want to see him."

You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.

"You haven't even told me his name."

Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.

"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.

He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.

"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.

"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.

"You still don't believe me, d'you?"

A beat.

The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.

You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.

"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.

Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.

And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.

And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.

"They're real. I promise."

His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.

"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.

A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.

Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.

God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.

His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.

"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."

And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.

And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.

"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.

Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.

"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."

Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.

"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.

"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.

Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.

For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.

Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.

Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).

"How d'you pay for all this?"

"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"

"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"

You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.

"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."

He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.

He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.

"Let me help you."

You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.

"Help me?"

Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.

But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.

"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.

You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.

"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.

"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"

Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.

"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."

God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.

So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.

And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.

"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.

"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"

"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."

Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.

"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.

Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.

"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.

"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.

"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."

"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.

Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.

"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.

"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"

"It's fine. I've slept worse."

He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.

That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.

Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least try to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.

And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.

And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.

Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.

Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.

But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.

"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.

You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.

This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.

He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.

"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."

Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.

Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.

A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.

A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.

"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"

As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.

"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"

He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.

But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.

Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.

He could… he could really get used to this.

Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.

He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.

"-mon."

"Simon!"

The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.

He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.

Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?

"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"

"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."

"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.

"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."

His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.

"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."

"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."

He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.

Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.

"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."

I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.

"Alright."

You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.

Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.

After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."

He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.

"O-okay."

He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."

You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.

You hoped it was the latter.

"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."

The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.

Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.

"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.

"Right, I'm s-"

"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."

"Well you can shut him up-"

"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"

"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."

"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.

"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."

Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.

He'd be back. He promised.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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ikkyfics · 25 days ago

Text

All I've Ever Want

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: Dave and you finally give in to your bottled-up feelings

Warning: a lot of kisses, sexual tension, suggestive situations, a little smut ~ maybe I'm embarrassed to post this

Masterlist

It was late, the veil of night already draping over the sky, and for a moment, you completely forgot where you were. That was until you felt a puff of warm air tickling the back of your neck. The realization of your surroundings made your cheeks flush crimson.

You remained still, analyzing the familiar interior of the room. The only source of light was the television, long forgotten, where the DVD logo lazily bounced around the screen, barely illuminating the lilac walls of the attic. To your right was an empty pizza box and soda cans, along with a stack of books and your precious pom-pom pens. The bedroom door was shut, but even so, you wondered if Mr. Lizewski had seen you with Dave on the bed.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it was no less embarrassing.

When you and your aunt moved into the house across the street, it was only a matter of time before you befriended Dave, your adorable and kind neighbor. You remembered the day you met him: Dave was all dark curls and bright blue eyes, smiling shyly beside his mother. While the adults droned on about boring things, you two hit it off, animatedly debating who was the strongest superhero in DC. After that, you became inseparable. His house became an extension of your own, and there were countless times your aunt had to carry you, half-asleep, back across the street to your bed.

Dave was as familiar as the back of your hand. For the longest time, you considered him the highlight of your days. He always knew the perfect jokes to draw out your smiles, and he was so kind, incredibly kind—though a bit of an idiot sometimes, but what could you expect from boys?

He had held you after an especially low physics grade, rubbing your back while you could do nothing but sob uncontrollably, whispering that no one cared about Torricelli and his damn equations. He kept you wrapped in his arms until you calmed down, tracing soothing circles on your back and brushing his lips affectionately against your forehead.

It was during that time you realized he wasn’t just a lanky teenager anymore. There were muscles under those clothes—and he had grown taller, with broader shoulders.

Your perception of him shifted. And before you knew it, your heart would nearly leap out of your chest whenever he got closer. Suddenly, you became very aware of him.

Damn hormones.

Of course, you refused to admit your feelings for a while. Dave was your friend and nothing more. But with every brush of his fingers, every lingering touch of his hands on you, and every conspiratorial smile, the butterflies in your stomach spun furiously.

Fuck.

You were in love.

Not that you ever confessed your erratic feelings. Absolutely not. Your friendship with Dave was too important to risk ruining it with sappy confessions. So you buried any romantic thoughts about him deep in your mind and pretended everything was normal.

Most days it was easy. With Marty and Todd acting as buffers, it was easy to forget the closeness with Dave. Even when your shoulders were pressed together in the comic book store booth and all you could think about was his scent filling your lungs. And when you stood on your tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, you certainly didn't daydream about being so close that your lips were mere millimeters from his skin. And no, you didn’t waste your precious time admiring his hands. God, you were a loser.

Your crush on Dave was in the past.

That was the lie you told yourself every day. Hoping one day it would become true.

Earlier, you had planned an afternoon of studying, a chemistry test was scheduled for next Thursday and it would be good to review organic functions. However, you and Dave quickly forgot about any problems involving ketones or methyls, snuggling on his bed with greasy slices of pizza. You had brought the Dirty Dancing CD in your bag and convinced him—forced him—to watch the movie. But apparently, you had both fallen asleep while Baby was taking her private dance lessons.

You blinked a few times, spotting the digital clock by the bed. The red numbers glowed; it was already 9:13 PM. Damn. You should be home.

Slowly, you tried to get up, only for his arms to tighten around you, holding you against his chest. Your body tensed as you realized where his hands were; the left rested on the soft curve of your waist, the right... — you swallowed —, the right hand was near your chest. Though his fingers weren’t curled around your breasts, their presence in the area was undeniable; firm and warm.

“Dave?” you whispered weakly, noticing from his lack of response that he was still deeply asleep.

With a shaky sigh, you thought about the situation you were in. It wasn’t the first time you had shared a bed or slept together; that had become a habit years ago when you were nothing more than kids addicted to movies. But now things were different. Dave was no longer a little boy. With him behind you, his body pressed perfectly against yours, it was impossible to stop your mind from wandering down sinful paths. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each slow breath, as well as his long legs tangled with yours.

It was fine, it meant absolutely nothing. All you needed to do was slide out of bed and run back home.

As you tried to move again, Dave held you tighter in his iron grip, making you gasp in surprise. When had he become so strong? You hadn’t managed to move an inch!

You shrank as he pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply, sending shivers down your spine. “Dave…?” you tried again, your voice slightly firmer. “I need to…”

“Stay.” He interrupted you, his voice sleepy and raspy. So close that the blend of syllables and consonants vibrated against your skin.

When had he woken up? The realization that he was holding you of his own volition, so close to him, sent unwanted butterflies to your stomach. For a foolish moment, you wondered what would happen if your feelings were reciprocated, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away.

You turned your head, catching a glimpse of his face. The curls fell over his face, giving him an angelic look, and the closed eyelids kept you from seeing those bright irises. A relaxed, even satisfied, expression crossed his sleepy face. His soft, pink lips were slightly parted. Painfully beautiful. The sight made an involuntary smile spread across your face.

“I need to go home,” you whispered, the words shaped by a smile.

“Why?” He didn’t open his eyes, his voice still sleepy enough for you to question whether he was truly awake or caught between consciousness and the land of dreams.

“It’s late and…” With furrowed brows, you asked, “Dave, are you awake?”

“Yes—I mean, no. What difference does it make? Just stay a little longer, I can take you home after.”

Even though you lived, quite literally, across the street, Dave insisted on walking you to your front door every time. No exceptions, it was sweet. He’d cross the street with his arm around your shoulders or holding your hand casually, and then say goodbye with an adorable smile.

But you had to go home. Put some healthy distance between you and bury any depraved thoughts about him deep in your mind. And take an especially cold shower.

“I’ve stayed too long, I need to go. So be a good boy and let me go.” When he made no effort to release you, you huffed impatiently, twisting in an attempt to break free from his grip.

“It’s not enough.” He murmured, holding you so tightly that your ribs complained. You hated that a small part of you loved this little show of strength. That was it, you had serious problems.

“Dave!” You grunted, without success.

Out of breath, you sucked in air between your teeth. You could have kicked him, but his frayed nerves would hardly let him feel pain. The only alternative was to keep fighting for your freedom, and that’s what you did. Grabbing his forearms in an attempt to force him to loosen his hold, you lifted your legs off the bed and twisted desperately.

A squeak escaped your lips as he huffed in annoyance, his large hands easily spinning you on the bed, as if you were a damn rag doll, pushing your back into the mattress and quickly collapsing over your body. Trapping you definitively between his arms and legs. The bed frame creaked under the force of the impact. “Quiet.” He said, the word seeming to scrape his throat.

You froze for a moment, assessing the compromising position you were in. With Dave on top of you, between your legs, his weight fully pressing down on you, making it difficult to breathe. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding furiously against his chest. With his head pressed against your chest, his curls tickled your chin, and they smelled so good… You quickly pushed that thought away. Your face burned with embarrassment, feeling warm breaths brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Grabbing his broad shoulders, you tried to push away, taking in air noisily. As with the other times, it was pointless. “D-Dave! I can’t breathe!”

His laugh irritated you, but when he lifted his head and looked at you with those big, bright eyes, you knew it was pointless to try to seem annoyed. “So dramatic.” He teased, though you suspected a slight blush stained his cheeks. Dave might have been acting tough now, but he was still shy and—sometimes—awkward.

You took a theatrical breath, hands still on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. “You’re heavy, you idiot!” You scolded, false irritation coloring your words.

He flinched, looking embarrassed for a few seconds. The dim light from the TV cast shadows across his face, only highlighting the edges of his features. “I wouldn’t have done that if you were a good girl and stayed quiet.”

The indulgent choice of his words made your cheeks burn. It was far too easy to imagine them in a different context, amid sighs and moans of pleasure. Damn. What was your fucking problem?

Embarrassed, you bit your lip between your teeth. “I-I... hm, I n-need to go.” You repeated, unable to meet his gaze.

“Why?” He questioned again, his voice an octave lower. His blue eyes scanned your face, daring not to move a single millimeter.

It was hard to think clearly and rationally with him so close, deliciously pressed against you. But you made an effort, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to clear your mind.

“Dave!” You laughed, shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a better position for your legs. “We’re past that phase, you know I need to go home.”

You wondered if he could hear the frenzy of your heart pounding against your ribcage. His face was absurdly close to yours. The heat radiated from his body, and his eyes—oh, God, he was looking at you now, so intensely it felt like he could see even the thoughts you hid.

“You can’t stay still, can you?” Dave murmured, his voice a mix of drowsy and husky, with a hint of humor, although his eyes carried something more—something that made the air in the room feel heavier.

You tried to laugh to break the tension, but the sound died before it could escape. He didn’t move, not even blinking, as if he were memorizing every detail of you in that moment: eyes slightly wide, the lower lip caught between your teeth, the blush coloring your cheeks treacherously.

“Dave…” Your voice came out low, almost a plea. You didn’t know exactly what you were asking for, but you needed to say something to fill the silence that only seemed to make the space between you grow.

“I just…” He quickly looked away, but his eyes returned to you almost instantly, this time focusing on your lips. The movement was so subtle you barely noticed, but your stomach flipped with the realization. He blinked, as if he had just noticed what he was doing, and the tips of his ears turned as red as the reflection of the digital clock. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... crush you.” He tried to laugh, but the sound also seemed muffled.

“It’s okay.” You managed to say, even with your uneven breathing and a million things running through your mind. But when he tried to move to get off you, your fingers—almost instinctively—grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “Wait.”

The request was spontaneous, as unexpected for you as it was for him. Dave stopped immediately, his eyes searching yours, confused and hesitant. “Wait?” He repeated, the word carrying a mix of hope and doubt.

Silence settled between you again, but this time it seemed to carry something tangible, almost electric. Your eyes fell, against your will, to his lips—and it was then you realized he was doing the same. The small smile he tried to hide with a nervous sigh only intensified the butterflies in your stomach.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he suddenly muttered, so low you almost thought you imagined it. His eyes widened slightly, and he immediately started to stutter. “I mean, not crazy-crazy, but... oh, damn, I never know what to say around you, and—”

“Dave.” Your voice, firm and soft, cut through his confusion. Your eyes met again, and this time, no one looked away. You felt something warm, burning slowly in your chest, as the intensity between you became almost unbearable.

He swallowed hard, the dark curls falling slightly over his forehead and his blue eyes shining with something that seemed to be a mix of doubt and courage. He looked like he was about to say something but hesitated, his gaze lost as if searching for the right words in the air between you.

“I…” He started, his voice hoarse and low, and stopped, furrowing his brow as if in an internal battle. You didn’t say anything, feeling the tension catch your breath. The weight of him on you, though light, brought an odd sense of comfort, as if the universe had decided that this was the only place you should be.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he finally confessed, his voice coming out in a whisper so full of emotion that you felt a shiver run down your spine. His eyes wandered over your face, lingering on the curve of your lips before returning to your eyes. “Being this close to you and, at the same time, so far... it hurts.”

Your heart raced. You wanted to respond, but the intensity in his eyes made the words stick in your throat. He took a deep breath, as if he needed all the courage in the world to continue.

“I don’t just want to hold your hand.” His voice broke, almost cracking, but he kept his eyes on yours. “I want you. All of you. Every part. Not as a friend, not as someone who smiles at me and pretends not to see how trapped I am by you. I can’t do this anymore.”

You felt your heart speed up even more, and a sudden wave of courage bubbled within you. The pain and passion in his eyes reflected your own feelings so perfectly that, for the first time, you didn’t want to hide anything.

“Dave,” you started, your voice a little hesitant, but soon found its strength. “I can’t take it anymore either... pretending that everything is fine, that I can just be your friend when all I want is...” Your voice faltered, but you found his eyes again, gaining strength as you saw hope rising in them. “All I want is you.”

His lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, it seemed like he was lost. Then, before you could say anything else, he took action. In one instant, you were finishing your confession, and in the next, his lips were on yours.

The impact of the kiss sent a shiver up your spine, as if every fiber of your being had awakened at once. His lips were even softer than you had imagined, a softness almost contradictory to the urgency with which he kissed you. His taste—warm, with a touch of sweetness mixed with pure desire—filled your palate, overwhelming your senses until you lost all sense of where you ended and he began.

Your breaths mingled, warm and ragged, as if you were both fighting for air but unable to pull away. His hands found your waist, fingers tightening with enough pressure to set your skin on fire, and you felt the weight of his body pressing even more firmly against yours. The pressure was delicious, every movement making your mind spin.

You couldn’t help it; your fingers moved on their own, finding the dark curls you had always loved. They were as soft as they seemed, and you wound them between your fingers, tugging them gently. The sigh he released against your mouth was like a spark in a fire, igniting something even more intense between you.

He deepened the kiss, and you gave yourself over completely, feeling every curve of his lips, the subtle but undeniable strength of his hands holding you tight. One of his hands slid down your waist until it found the curve of your hip, fingers pressing the soft flesh with a care that was both possessive and gentle. You felt his heat against your skin like a wave, and the weight of him against you was a physical reminder that he was there, all his, with you.

It was feverish, desperate, and absolutely perfect. Your hands, which had been shy before, now explored with more confidence. Your fingers traced invisible lines on his neck, while your other hand slid down his shoulder. Each touch seemed to draw a new sigh from him, and you loved the sound, loved knowing that you could make him feel that way.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, faces so close that your breaths still mingled. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, eyes shining as if he were seeing something sacred.

“You... have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, heavy with emotion. His lips were red and slightly swollen, and the sight made you lose yourself for a moment before responding, with a shy smile.

“I think I do,” you whispered, running your fingers lightly through his messy curls. And, as he smiled, still panting, you knew, without a doubt, that you could never live without this again.

He didn’t say anything. He just leaned in again, without hesitation, without asking for permission. The kiss that followed was not gentle or restrained; it was fierce, almost to the point of pain, filled with an urgency that made your heart pound. He kissed you as if he were a starving man, as if the moments you had just shared were not enough, as if he wanted to consume you completely.

You loved it. The impact made you lose it completely, your thoughts disintegrating as his weight pinned you to the bed, feeling his chest crush your breasts. The intensity was overwhelming, and every movement of his lips against yours made you feel like you were on the verge of falling apart. It was almost unbelievable—to be here, in his bed, where you had spent so many afternoons playing, laughing, and discussing your favorite movies and comics. That familiar space, which had once felt safe and innocent, was now imbued with something entirely new, something devastating.

Your hands, trembling and bold, began to explore. Your fingers moved up the curve of his back, feeling every muscle contract under your touch. It was dizzying, discovering how he reacted, feeling the heat of his skin under his thin shirt, realizing that he was as vulnerable as you were at that moment.

His hands, in turn, slid down the side of your body, firm and full of purpose, until they found your leg, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. When he pulled it, positioning it around his waist, you felt a shiver run through your entire body. The surprise almost made you gasp, but the gesture did not scare you — on the contrary, it awakened something even more intense inside. He held you like you were precious, but the way his fingers squeezed your thigh said something else: that he wanted you in every way possible.

When your breath finally betrayed you, he broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away. His hot breath fanned your skin, and before you could say anything, his lips were on your jaw, trailing a slow, scorching path of wet kisses down your neck. His touch sent waves of heat through your body, and you writhed slightly beneath him, unable to contain yourself, liquid heat pooling between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of emotion. Each word came between one kiss and another, his lips exploring with an almost adorable reverence. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I wanted you.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest, a mix of emotions that seemed about to overflow. He stopped for a moment, just to look at you. His gaze was filled with something raw, sincere, and made you want to never leave the damn bed again.

“I love being the reason for your sighs,” he said softly, his fingers tracing a soft pattern on your skin, where he had mistreated it before. “I love seeing you like this… and knowing that, for the first time, I can say that you are mine.”

His words were like an echo of your own thoughts, and you could hardly believe that this was happening. There, in that moment, it was as if all the lost time had finally been recovered, as if every unconfessed desire had found its answer.

“Dave…” His name escaped your lips like a sigh, full of desire and emotion, before you pulled him back to you. The kiss that followed was just as devastating as the previous ones, but this time you were the one leading, the one setting the pace. Your fingers slid into his messy curls, holding them firmly as your lips met in a feverish, passionate clash. You heard a hoarse sound, almost a moan, escape him as his fingers tugged at your hair, which only served to further ignite the fire that burned inside you.

For a moment, you pulled away just enough to watch him. The blush on his cheeks spread across his face, his lips were red and swollen from so many kisses, shining under the soft light of the room. His hair, always a little messy, now seemed completely untamed, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought that this was all your fault. He was beautiful, and the sight of him like that—vulnerable, surrendered, and yet filled with an almost raw intensity—made something inside you shiver.

You wrapped your other leg around him, holding him tighter against you, as if the world might suddenly intervene and tear you apart. The movement caused his weight to shift, pressing him even tighter against you, and it sent a rush of liquid heat through your body. A noise rasped in his throat at your movement, his body tensing as he pressed against the softness of your body. It felt like instead of blood, fire was coursing through your veins, every fiber of your being ablaze at the closeness, at the way he touched you, the way his lips sought yours as if they were the only thing that mattered.

His hands were no longer hesitant. One held tightly to your waist, while the other slowly moved up your sides, as if he wanted to map every inch of you. There was strength in his touch, as if he wanted to mark you somehow, as if he wanted you to feel that moment on your skin even after it had passed. When he leaned down to your collarbone and began to place small bites on your neck, your breath caught. Each bite felt carefully placed, not just as a show of desire, but as a silent promise that he was there, that he wanted you completely.

You arched your body against his, unable to control the reactions he was eliciting. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him even closer, desperate for any friction. The space between you was nonexistent, but it still felt like it would never be enough. Every touch, every kiss, every sigh that escaped you was filled with an overflowing urgency, as if years of pent-up feelings had finally found their way to the surface.

“You’re a dream,” he murmured, his lips moving against your skin, his voice so low and husky that you could barely hear him. The confession made something inside you melt, even as your hands explored his back, every muscle that moved beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

He looked at you again, his eyes bright and full of an emotion you could barely name, and you knew he felt exactly the same as you: that this moment, so charged with intensity, was something neither of you wanted to end.

Then, without hesitation, he kissed you again, and this time there was a desperate urgency in his movements, as if he needed your lips to breathe. The way he pressed you against the bed, with the weight of his body and the strength of the kiss, made your heart race and your thoughts disintegrate, leaving only the feeling of having him so close.

His hand, previously hesitant, slowly descended to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. He paused for a moment, as if asking for silent permission, but the look you gave him, full of surrender and desire, was all he needed. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, finding the soft skin of your waist, and the touch was like an electric shock that ran through your body. You shivered against him, unable to contain your reaction, and he smiled against your lips, as if he loved the effect he had on you.

His weight was crushing and yet comforting. You could barely move beneath him, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, you didn’t want to move; you just wanted to feel, to absorb everything he was offering. It was a weakness unlike any you’d ever felt, a numbness that wasn’t numbness but complete surrender. He was all that filled your mind, every thought, every beat of your heart.

His other hand moved down to your hip, gripping it tightly enough to make you gasp. You could tell he was trying to hold something back, to keep you from moving against the bulge in his pants. But you couldn’t feel him pressed against your core—the way he held you, the way his fingers gripped your flesh with a kind of almost feral need, said it all. That realization made your pussy clench around nothing, starving for any attention.

You couldn’t help it; your hands started moving again, exploring his arms, moving up his chest, trying to memorize every contour as your own desires grew in intensity. He seemed intoxicated, his kisses growing deeper and more desperate, as if he wanted to mark you with each one. And when his lips finally pulled away from yours to come up for air, it was only for a moment, before they went back down to find any patch of sensitive skin.

The soft bites he placed on your skin were like spreading flames, each one more intense than the last. You felt his lips form words against your skin, a low, husky whisper that made you shiver. “You’re mine… you’ve always been mine.”

The sound of those words, along with his overwhelming weight and presence, made you feel like you were going to lose your breath completely. Everything around you seemed to disappear except for him—Dave, who was no longer trying to hold back, who wanted you as desperately as you wanted him. And you knew there was no going back; not after this.

With his eyes fixed on yours, Dave let his fingers work at the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up, as if he wanted to savor every second. When the fabric was finally ripped away, he stopped, staring at you with an intensity that made your heart race. The silence that followed seemed to vibrate with something unspoken as he simply admired you, watching your chest rise and fall with each ragged breath, the shape of your breasts covered by a thin bra that left little to the imagination. His mouth felt dry.

You felt the heat of his gaze travel over your exposed skin, and embarrassment began to creep in, but then he broke the silence, his voice low and husky. “You’re beautiful… so beautiful.” His words were filled with a caress that made you feel completely disarmed, and you realized that you had nothing to be ashamed of. The desire in his eyes was so evident, so overwhelming, that it made your own fears evaporate.

His fingers lightly touched the edge of your bra, tracing a soft, almost reverent path. The touch seemed to set your skin on fire, and the heat that ran through your veins was almost too much to bear. You arched your body involuntarily, moving towards him, a low moan escaping your lips without permission as you felt him press his cock harder against you.

His hands returned to exploring your body with increasing urgency, pulling your bra down instead of removing it from your body. His fingers kneaded your breasts, seeking the pressure that made you purr like a kitten. When he buried his face in your chest, he wasted no time in mouthing the sensitive flesh, sucking on the hard tip until you whimpered. He seemed to want to devour you, and the frenzy that this aroused in you made your pussy respond, staining your panties with more of your arousal. Your own fingers roamed his torso, exploring every line, every muscle that contracted under his touch.

He paused for a moment, staring at you with a silent question in his eyes, his mouth redder than ever. A look that said it all—he wanted to make sure you were okay, that this was what you wanted. His response was instinctive, almost automatic. You writhed beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders, your voice shaky and urgent. “Dave… I want you. Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you again, this time harder, more eager, as if he wanted to take you in completely. His lips left yours only so he could move down to your neck again, exploring every inch with hot kisses and soft bites that made you tremble. Only then did he grind his hips against yours, groaning against your skin as he established a rhythm. The seam of your pants brushed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

You felt his fingers tighten around your waist, as if he wanted to mark you right then and there. Your body responded automatically, moving against his, every nerve ending burning with urgent need. Your hands moved lower, finding the waistband of his pants, hesitating only for a moment before undoing the button, your fingers trembling as you unzipped him. He shivered when you touched him, feeling his cock twitch against your fingers. Dave groaned your name as you circled the pre-cum-covered tip. Your own body reacted to it, imagining what it would be like to have him stretching you from the inside, slamming against your cervix. Your toes curled at the thought.

“Dave?” Mr. Lizewski’s voice came from the other end, casual but loud enough to make your heart race for an entirely different reason. Your fingers stilled instantly, terrified at the thought of being caught in this situation. “Is everything okay in there?”

Dave reacted instantly, his body tensing as he hurried to cover yours with his, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. “Yes, Dad! It’s okay, it’s okay!” he replied, his voice louder and more hurried than usual.

You held your breath as Dave looked at the door, a blush staining his face. His eyes met yours briefly, shame and embarrassment reflected in his features, before he called out again, “It’s okay in here!”

The silence that followed was brief, but it felt endless, until Mr. Lizewski spoke again, and this time there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Is your friend in the room with you, Dave?”

Dave froze, his eyes meeting yours once more. His gaze was intense, as if he were weighing what to say, and it made your heart race again, but not from nervousness—this time it was from something deeper. The intensity of that moment, the way he was looking at you, almost took away what little breath you had left. His hand that remained on your hip left a reassuring caress.

Finally, he answered, casually, “Yes, Dad, my girlfriend is here.” Your mouth fell open in surprise at his words, your heart beating painfully fast. Girlfriend. Girlfriend! Dave gave you a crooked smile, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to contradict him. You didn’t. He pressed his face against yours, his lips gently pressed against your jaw.

Mr. Lizewski chuckled from the other side of the door, which made you bury your face in your hands in sheer embarrassment. “Well, her aunt called to ask her to come home. Apparently she needs help with the roast or something.”

You tried not to groan in embarrassment as you answered, your voice sounding thinner than you would have liked. “Oh, thanks, Mr. Lizewski. I’ll be right there.”

The sound of his father’s footsteps walking away was followed by a tense silence that was broken when they both started laughing at the same time, unable to contain the mix of relief and embarrassment they felt.

Dave lowered his head and kissed you again, this time gently, his lips sealing a silent promise. “We’ll keep this up,” he murmured, his voice low and husky against yours.

He picked up your shirt from the floor and helped you put it on, your hands still a little shaky as you tried to fix your messy hair and disheveled clothes. “There,” he said with an embarrassed smile, looking at the damage he had done to your skin. It would take days for the marks to fade. “I think everything is fine… or almost.”

Later, when he drove you home, the nervousness returned, but this time it was mixed with something else—a certainty. At the door, as you prepared to enter, Dave stopped, his eyes fixed on yours once more.

Unlike all the times before, he leaned in and kissed you, a brief, sweet touch that made your heart melt. "Good night, girlfriend," he whispered, with that shy but meaningful smile.

#dave lizewski x you #dave x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #kick ass #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader #a lot of kisses #fluffy #romance #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #a little smut #dave lizewisk x y/n #dave lizewski fanfiction #kick ass x reader

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dunmeshistash · 9 months ago

Text

Hello!

I'm Cyan (or anything you wanna call me) this blog started as just a stash for Dungeon Meshi extras and worldbuilding details but expanded as people asked questions and I did my best to answer! Hope you find it as useful as I do. I try my best to categorize my posts so they're easy to find but sometimes I forget.

If you'd like to share something you compiled yourself feel free to send it to me and I'll reblog it! You can also send a submission if you'd prefer. The main goal is to share Dungeon Meshi information :3

Consider checking the FAQ before sending an ask!

FAQ

Spoilers are tagged as "Dungeon Meshi Spoilers"

Please support the author by purchasing the manga if available in your region.

TERFs and other bigots aren't welcome

Icon and Banner

Ryoko Kui's Blog

I'm on Twitter too (kinda)

Tag list under the cut

Types of post

For referencing - Canon things and other information you might want to go back to. Now I'm also using art reference when relevant

Compilation - Posts where I compile lots of canon art/sketches about a specific subject.

Dunmeshi thoughts - My own non canon thoughts. I also use the tag speculation when relevant

Dunmeshi complaint - Tag for more negative subjects/discourse in case you wanna block that. I usually go back and delete the ones that don't seem productive

Asks - Since I post quite a lot of asks I decided to divide them into some tags so they're easier to filter: Lore ask | Character ask | Meta ask | About Cyan

Parties

Kabru's Party: Kabru of Utaya, Diamond of Sadena, Mickbell Tomas, Kuro, Rinsha Fana, Holm Kranom

Tansu's Party: Tansu Floke, Yarn Floke, Kiki Floke, Kaka Floke, Namari of Kahka Brud

Shuro's Party: Shuro (Toshiro Nakamoto), Hien, Benichidori, Maizuro, Inutade

Canaries: Mithrun, Pattadol, Lycion, Fleki, Otta, Cithis

Races:

Tallman

Dwarf

Elf

Gnome

Half-Foot

Ogre

Demi humans

Orc

Kobold

Sources (<- check this if you're confused where the extras come from):

Adventurers Bible

Daydream Hour

Monster Tidbits

Bluray

Other tags:

Worldbuilding

Maps

Magic System

Post Canon (Extras about the story after the story)

Clothing (Details about character's clothes and in world fashion)

Dunmeshi Extra (extra comics that aren't in the main story)

Rooms

Modern Clothing

Dunmeshi anime vs manga (comparisons or panels missing from the anime)

Monsters:

Red Dragon

Chimera Falin

Mermaid

I'll be updating as I add posts/figure out how to tag stuff

About me: Cyan - Adult - She/He - Brazilian

#Pinned post #For referencing

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warping-realities · 3 months ago

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Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

#occam2000 #male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #musclegrowth #gay to bi #douchebag tf

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nnicknnelsonn · 1 month ago

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Kit literally tops Hollywood Reporter list

Next Gen Talent 2024: The 10 Hottest Young Stars in Hollywood

From Netflix-turned-Broadway sensation Kit Connor to DC newcomer Aaron Pierre, meet the young stars climbing everyone’s call sheet.

Thank you for the tipoff @thegoldenretrieverandthegaynerd (X)

Kit Connor and Josh Rivera photographed November 11th at Broken Shaker in New York; Source: Hollywood Reporter (X)

1. Kit Connor

Connor is ready to break out beyond high school. He built his career as a child actor (see him as a young Elton John in Rocketman) before scoring the lead role in the high school rom-com series Heartstopper. This desire to graduate is part of what drew the Brit to Broadway, where he’s currently leading Romeo + Juliet with Rachel Zegler, bringing Shakespeare to the Gen Z masses. “It just felt ballsy,” Connor says. “It’s been what I’ve been trying to do with my career decisions recently, just try and do things that are a little bit more ballsy.” Connor, 20, isn’t sure if Heartstopper will return for a fourth season, but after the curtain goes down on his Broadway stint, he’ll start promoting his most adult role yet in Alex Garland’s A24 thriller Warfare. After that, he says, “I’d like to take a little break just so that I can kind of cleanse my mind and my palate, and then I’d like to do something completely different.” He adds, “I want to try and spend the next couple years just doing quite hard stuff so that I can try and force myself to get better.”

IF I WASN’T AN ACTOR I’D BE “I would first and foremost be a student due to my age. [My major] would probably be something like film studies, English or history, those are the subjects I found the most interesting in school because they were about people. I never did well with numbers. Still don’t.”

THE PERSON I AM DYING TO WORK WITH “I would love to work with Josh O’Connor. He and I are friendly, and every time I see him I think how I would love to see him at work.”

HOW I DECOMPRESS ON SET “I like my private time. On Warfare, we didn’t do that at all. Every night we did everything together and I wouldn’t have changed it at all. But a lot of time on jobs, I go home and just sit and listen to music.”

BEST ADVICE I’VE GOTTEN WORKING IN ENTERTAINMENT “Trusting the process. Quite a lot of my friends in the industry have given me that general advice.”

SONG OR ALBUM I HAVE ON REPEAT “David Bowie, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. I used to, at the beginning of the run of the play, I was listening to a lot of music that would try to hype me up because I wanted to have a load of energy going into the play but then I started re-listening to that album‚ “Rock and Roll Suicide”, “Five Years”, “Moonage Daydream” — that put me in a good mindset for [the play].”

THE MOVIE OR SERIES I AM OBSESSED WITH “The Sopranos. I started watching it when I got to [New York] because I thought Jersey is just around the corner.”

MOST HOLLYWOOD THING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME “There is something pretty crazy about seeing your face on a billboard in any capacity.”

#kit connor #heartstopper #nick nelson #romeo + juliet #rocketman #the wild robot #warfare #heartstoppercentral #romeo + juliet broadway #romeo + juliet on broadway #kit connor updates #kit connor photoshoot #kit connor interview #kit connor article #mine #pinned #pin

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cozy-writes-things · 6 months ago

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Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

#electric dreams 1984 #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #i love edgar #electric dreams edgar x reader #electric dreams 1984 x reader #objectum

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actuallysaiyan · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 6: Monster Fucking(Hybrids opened up the door...)

warnings/kinks: monster fucking, dub con, mating season, double cocks, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected sex word count: 0.7k pairings: Prince Sidon x Fem!Hylian!Reader teaser: “My, my, what a pretty little Hylian…” taglist: @beneathstarryskies @loki-love @witchofcustom @dreadsuitsamus @pyrofanatic @butterflieskeepcominback

You’ve always been so intrigued by the Zora. Everything about them made you so curious. You hardly ventured out of your hometown, but sometimes you wondered if you’d ever be able to make it to Zora’s Domain. Your daydreams were filled with them teaching you how to swim and what their ways of life were like.

One day, you decide to find your way to Zora's Domain. It took a lot of money and a few days of carriage ride there, but you knew it was worth it. You wanted to befriend these people and you knew that you’d find happiness once you arrived.

What you weren’t anticipating was that the Zora were in their mating season…

As soon as you approach the domain, you realize something feels off. There aren’t nearly as many visitors or locals around. The place seemed almost a little deserted. A few guards are scattered about, but even they seem distracted by something. You make your way into the home of the Zora, looking around for anyone to talk to.

Yet the place seems so empty. You ask one of the guards, and he has very little explanation. That, or he’s much too distracted by something else to tell you. So you continue looking around, admiring the scenery and architecture.

Soon you arrive at a beautifully adorned bridge. You cross it, making your way out of the domain. The water is so beautiful here. There’s nice patches of grass amongst the beaches as well. You make your way to a sunny spot and you sit down. As much as you’re confused as to why this place seems deserted, you’re happy to have a moment to yourself.

Prince Sidon is suddenly roused from what he’s doing by the sweet smell of something so alluring. And he knows that whatever it is, he’s going to get it. Just for himself. How could he ever deny himself something so sweet?

When he sees you lying on the grass, he can’t help the way his cocks seem to harden and start to slip out of the slit on his pelvis. You’re the source of the smell, and when you raise your head to greet him, he’s smirking to himself.

“My, my, what a pretty little Hylian…”

He barely gives you time to register what’s going on as he scoops you up into his arms. You almost feel dazed and you aren’t really sure what’s going on. But something about this feels so good. He nuzzles himself in the crook of your neck, purring and growling.

“Pretty little Hylian…you were just begging to be bred, weren’t you?”

You try to deny it, but you feel arousal coursing through you. When his long nails slash your clothing, you don’t know what to think. There’s something thick in the air as he presses wet kisses all over your now exposed body. You wonder if maybe you’ve been bewitched.

Another purr rumbles through him before he spreads your thighs. That sweet smell is amplified as soon as he gets closer to your wet cunt. You squeal once you feel his tongue gliding over your folds, and you feel your heart skip a beat when his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.It’s all happening so fast, but you don’t have the strength to push him off. And with the way his tongue keeps lapping at your most sensitive spots, you know you wouldn’t even want him to stop.

“That’s my good girl,” Sidon says between languid strokes of his tongue.

Soon he’s got you on your back and he’s stroking one of the fat cocks that’s prominently popping out from the slit on his pelvis. He brings that one over to your folds, and slips it into your hole. You cry out and your nails dig into the ground beneath you.

“Shhh, you can take it.”

His words go straight to your core, making your walls clamp down around him. He can’t take it slow anymore. Sidon begins pistoning into you at a break-neck speed, leaving you breathless and dazed. Your eyes roll back as an orgasm begins to build almost immediately.

Juices squirt from you as your thighs begin to tremble. Sidon seems even happier to be covered in your essence, his other cock coming up to rest between your folds. He pouts softly, guiding it to your already stuffed hole.

“More? Please, I need more.”

#bacon.writes #Sidon x you #sidon x reader #sidon x y/n #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #legend of Zelda smut #sidon smut #prince sidon smut #kinktober 2023

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yup-thats-me · 5 months ago

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—memories• William J. Moriarty

paring: William x wife!reader summary: Hair holds memories. Something that William had said in the past. did it mean anything to his darling wife? yes. more than he could imagine. warning: hurt/comfort, manga spoiler, angsty, rapunzle-hair, like lots and lots of hair. a/n: this came to mind while doing my haircare. Enjoy.

The first thing William had looked for immediately after entering the mansion and sharing brief greetings with his dear brothers and comrades was to ask them about his wife. During his time in New York with his now close friends Billy and Sherlock Holmes for the better half of three years, he had never forgotten the treasure he left behind in London; the treasure he was forced to part from—his darling wife, Y/n; she had stayed by his side when the world had mistaken him, misunderstood all the crimes he patriotically committed; measures needed for the greater good.

Not once could he stop his tears nor the hurt that crushed his entire being when he thought how miserable Y/n was. After all, everyone believed Lord of Crime, William James Moriarty was dead.

He did not expect to see the heads of all the people in the hall droop. Some of them had sighed, and some of them could not meet his eyes.

“Where is my wife?” he had asked again, growing impatient. He had frankly believed that Y/n would have moved on by now and perhaps jumped in his embrace the moment he revealed himself to the MI6. He was more worried than disappointed.

It was Louis who spoke up. “She’s in her��your room…” but he did not finish the sentence.

And William did not need him to. Without wasting another second, he rushed up the stairs through the all familiar halls; his feet did not stop, not until he was standing outside of their room; and the scene before him broke his heart to a million pieces.

The moonlight dimly illuminated the room, as if adding life to the atmosphere. There were no sound save one—the soft humming coming from the open balcony.

William had carefully treaded his way to where Y/n was sitting with her back towards the door.. However, his feet stepped on something dark, long. Hair.

Was this Y/n’s hair? How did this get so long? Was this some kind of rope? Why would she grow out her hair? Unless…

“I like your hair, my love,” a youthful and lively Moriarty declared as he played with his wife’s lose hair. The woman blushed, hiding her face with the book she was reading.

“…then should I grow out my hair?”

The man shook his head, a loving smile on his lips. “Whatever you wish, darling,” he had pecked her lips. “Speaking of hair, I read somewhere,”

“Hair holds memories.”

The present-day Y/n asked her hair as she combed it without a care in the world. “Do you think he had a rebirth? No. Maybe he went to heaven…if it exists. He was a good man…”

William’s heart ached. Ached he could do nothing to make up for the pain he inflicted on her. Ached for he had no words to apologize with, nor the face. All he could do was call out to her, in a soft, trembling voice.

“Y/n, darling…”

Y/n had stopped her humming and looked out at the night sky before her. “William?”

She thought she had finally lost her mind. How could you hear voices of dead people? That was nothing but her imagination. Imagination where William lived…and was before her.

“Darling,” William called out again, now walking towards the woman.

Y/n stood up, frantically looking all around her to search for the source of the voice, when her eyes finally landed on him. There he was, standing with his arms wide open for her; like he always had.

She cautiously walked towards him, as if still making sure she was not daydreaming again. “Are you really here?” She had asked while she gently caressed his face.

Without a word, William had embraced her and held her close. So close but still not enough. It was not enough for the two. They needed more than touch, more than words. They needed more.

Eventually, the two could not hold back anymore and cried. Cried for the hurt they felt, the hardships they went through, and the pain they suffered; but also for the immense joy they felt. Especially Y/n. How many people in this world could say they met the person they had lost to time? It was no less than a miracle. And this time she would not let go, even if the gods came asking for him.

But all of that could wait. William gently held her meter-long hair and asked, “…why?”

She had kept quiet for sometime when she at last said “…hair holds memories.”

The tears did not stop, rather they increased but William still had that gentle smile on his lips. He hugged her yet again. Slowly, he grabbed the small knife he always hid in his socks and began to cut the thick hair gently, while whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

“Now I’m here. We will make more.”

Memories.

do not steal, copy or translate my work to any other site. All belongs to yup-thats-me™ on tumblr

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moony-noo · 2 months ago

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𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞) (angst?)

They say 'perfection doesn't exist', yet in your eyes, you felt like you had met the embodiement of the word "perfect".

Kazuha was a gentleman. He was good with kids, good with elders, good with everyone. He had a way with words, no matter if you were sad, anxious, angry or happy, enthusiastic, even cheerful after a successful achievement, he just knew the right things to say. And it made you absolutely sick— love-sick.

You quickly caught on your changing behavior the past few years. When he wasn't there, you'd think about him. Anything would remind you of Kazuha. Whether it was the color red, like his mesmerizing eyes, or the maple leaves pattern, like the ones on his clothes he so elegantly wore... He was everywhere, running endlessly in your mind. You could try all you wanted to convince yourself this was just because the two of you were spending a lot of time together since you were kids... But the simple fact that whenever you were only chatting with someone, and you'd always find a way to bring back his name in the conversation, was enough to prove you wrong. Your mouth was wording "Kazuha" like an enchantment that only you could not erase.

And it truly felt magical, when you came to realize the crush you had developed on your long-dated best-friend. Every touch, laughter, conversations, were embellished once your mind made you understand your true feelings. You were charmed by every aspect of him. Often staring at him, heart in your eyes, like he was a true beauty who had ascended from Heavens, in order to bring light in this so basic-life of yours.

But once your love had reached its peak, fear and anxiety didn't take long to set in...

Was it the same for him?

You started to wonder, did he see you the same way that you do?

Was he, too, feeling the butterflies down in his stomach when he'd see your silhouette in the alleys of Inazuma City?

Were you his everything like he was for you?

Every conversations was slowly becoming a source of research. You had started to analyze all his behaviours, gestures, words, trying to caught on anything that would at last give you a glimmer of hope that something could happen between you two. But it didn't. It never did.

Because Kazuha was good to everyone.

You were no exception, nor you had a slight of special treatment. A painful reality that you had only come to understand a few weeks ago, when he was about to leave for another journey of his. As usual, you'd embrace goodbyes, knowing that you'd write to each other most likely everyday... But you knew you'd only meet again Archons knew when, because he'd always do that. Not in a bad way of course, Kazuha was a wanderer. He couldn't stay in one place, while you, on the other side, grew too attached to your homeland, despite its past, to even think of leaving for more than two weeks.

So lately, you had been only receiving letters after letters, seeing him only when he'd come visit Inazuma— which was not very often. It was hard to admit, but truth was; he was slowly becoming an 'old-friend' of yours, and you hated it. This made you understand that... he didn't miss you the way that lovers do.

You already had feel the pain of toxic relationships, break-ups, rejections, but never unrequited love. Or at least, not as harmful as right now. And you'd say, this was another level of hurt. Having to say goodbye to something possibly beautiful before you could even taste it, was not as easy as people would think. This happiness you longed for with him, would only exist in your head, daydreaming. You loved him, but hated the counterparties this affection brought to you.

You already had thought of confessing to him at some point, despite being fully aware of the upcoming rejection. This sudden source of courage would emerge during relaxing moments, you two sitting under a tree, where peace would soothe your mind so well that anything that passed through it would just feel right to say out loud. But you never did. In your case, you felt like you coudn't stay friends with him, because the pain it brought to your heart was almost unbearable. But you knew he valued your friendship way too much to even think of putting an end on it, despite distancing from each other over the years. Pushing him away from you might hurt as much as loving him way more than you should have, but life always came to point that everything would change, and somehow, it was hard to accept it.

Maybe fate would bring you back to each other, and perhaps, some things might change again, but for now, 'old-friend', was the only suitable relationship for the both of you. Kazuha would travel everywhere, whenever he wanted, while sending letters to you here and there. While you, the heart aching at this long-dated friendship now fading away, would keep pursuing your goals, building a new life, writing back to him and thinking "maybe in another life".

Woohoo, my first post, and it's kinda depressing lmao. But I loved writing it to be honest. I know a lot of people (inculding me) often had to face (like 90% of the time on my part lmao) unrequited love, and I kinda wanted to show how it can feel like. Anyway, hope you've enjoyed, stay tuned for more ♥

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #light angst #unrequited love

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nefertitiacai · 1 year ago

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Astrology observations: LONG DRIVE EDITION 🛣️

LET'S GOOOOOOO!!! 🏁 🚘

🚋 This post is dedicated to my prominent mercury and third house placement folks who love their long drives, cars, and road trips.

🚋 Uranus/Aquarius in 3rd house ppl may own a car which may have a unique aspect to it, like the model of the car has been stopped being sold by the company, not many people may buy it, it may be electrical, etc.

🚋 With Uranus in 3rd house, you may also go on sudden, spontaneous trips.

🚋 Okay but my condolences to the Sagittarius folks who love traveling but also have Virgo placements (especially if they are squaring), y'all how are your motion sickness and stomach problems while traveling 🫣, mine ain't better.

🚋 Growing up, folks with Sagittarius moon/ Jupiter conj Moon/ Jupiter in the 4th house may have traveled to a lot of spiritual and pilgrimage places with their parents.

🚋 Capricorn/Cancer/Taurus placements for what I've observed is that they want to travel slowly, like if going on a long drive they are the ones who make sure the ride is comfortable by stopping by food stations/ scenery checkpoints etc, they ain't hurrying that's why they are my fav travel buddies.

🚋 Pisces/ 12th house placements/Neptune in the 3rd house 🤝 taking a good ass nap while sitting on the backseat. Ik ppl who have this placement who'll legit not sleep throughout the night just so they could sleep while traveling XD.

🚋 Gemini placements are a great source of entertainment while traveling XD. They've got everything. They'll make jokes and be funny all the time but also if you're curious about the place they'll have the facts up their sleeves.

🚋 Leo, Taurus and Libra placements 🤝 shopping, especially the cutesy souvenirs.

🚋About pilgrimage and spiritual sanctuaries, I've noticed that Capricorn placements also love to visit them, especially when they get older.

🚋 Libra, Scorpio, Cancer, and Pisces placements 🤝 daydreaming/reminiscing while listening to music and looking outside the window.

🚋 If you wanna dine the right place, I think it is quite well known by now to take Virgo, Taurus or Sagittarius folk with ya. They know and have it well researched.

🚋 Aries/prominent Mars placements (especially in the 3rd house)🤝 loving that adrenaline rush from driving on rocky terrains and fast driving on the highways.

BONUS: Some asteroids associated with gods of travel and my take on em 🛣️

Ganesa (2415) - Hindu God of wealth and wisdom. Also known to be the "remover of obstacles" that's why he is prayed for before embarking on a new journey be it literally or metaphorically. Having it prominent in your chart may indicate where you'll be successful in your ventures, where you may have a lot of luck and wisdom by your side, and where you may gain wealth.Where new beginnings will be auspicious for you.

Hermes (69230) - Many consider this Greek god as the "Jack-of-all-trades" as he is considered to be the patron god of travel, art, invention, trade, literature, and also of thieves. Planet Mercury is associated with this deity hence having it prominent in your chart may indicate that you may also be a jack-of-all-trades, clever, cunning, and intelligent. Having it prominent in your chart may also indicate you may get away from the troubles and consequences of your actions by using your wit easily.

Vibilia (144) - Roman goddess of the journey, "the right way", short and long trips as well as roads. Having it prominent in your chart may indicate what inspires you to travel, your spiritual/symbolic or literal journey. Being prominent in solar return may be an indication of travel that year.

Adeona (145) - The Roman goddess of safe return, she is also considered the protector of children who travel to come back home (isn't that wholesome?), and also the goddess of homecoming. Having it wherever in your chart may indicate aspects of your life that you return to for comfort and safety. What aspects of your life are where you return and settle in after completing all your endeavors.

#astro observations #astrology #astrology community #astro community #astrology observations #astrological observations #astrology notes #asteroid astrology #asteroid #travel asteroids #astrovations #astro notes #astrology placements #astrology tumblr #astrology aspects #natal chart #travel #astro placements

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bbonnenuit · 1 year ago

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The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

“Daydreaming again, I see?”

It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm.

You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas.

You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor.

You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic.

“The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding.

Silence falls over the two of you again.

You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away.

“Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.

“I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself.

Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright?

You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion.

So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though.

Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic.

Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

“What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid.

“Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice.

What an ironic song and artist of choice.

It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself.

“Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?”

Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song.

“Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point.

You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.”

He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

So he does like it!

“Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

“Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you.

“Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.”

Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind. But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure.

Chrollo finally speaks, “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

“Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.”

No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress.

Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?”

“You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.”

He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.”

It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

“And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.”

Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing.

You can barely handle it.

“Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.”

…

“Pardon?’

“The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation. Chrollo does not share the same sentiment.

Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

“Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’

"I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

He sighs like it’s obvious, “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation.

“These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’. I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

…Or so you thought.

“So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’.

Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt.

“So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.”

Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow.

“Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing…

“I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?”

“Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?”

“You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

“Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.”

“Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!”

Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over.

Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.”

He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on, the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop.

“You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind.

“Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear…

…

“Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?”

He just sighs.

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

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