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steviebbboi · 22 days

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Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look.

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you.

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer.

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake.

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!”

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence.

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years.

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do.

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers.

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away.

Where Steve was, you were there too.

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school).

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school.

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter.

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life.

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs.

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.”

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice.

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on.

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left.

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either.

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone.

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision.

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist.

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world.

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room.

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more.

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids.

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes.

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.”

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place.

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home.

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way.

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again.

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote.

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day.

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship.

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends.

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there.

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance.

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome.

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed.

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?”

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half.

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad.

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.”

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence.

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously.

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.”

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together.

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip.

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff.

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time.

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago.

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.”

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers.

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two.

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together.

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly.

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?”

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her.

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all.

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up.

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks.

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively.

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself.

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it.

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends.

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone.

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.)

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face.

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone.

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response.

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma.

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years.

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –”

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing.

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours.

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night.

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back.

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.”

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer.

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt.

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other.

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed.

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself.

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed.

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish.

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad.

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix.

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes.

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table.

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake.

It was Steve.

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first.

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret.

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut.

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone.

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you.

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.”

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink.

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden.

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now.

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer.

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be.

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?”

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.”

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression.

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully.

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?”

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse.

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?”

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?”

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly.

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out.

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry.

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out.

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again.

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.”

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss.

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

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writingforstraykids · 3 months

Note

Loved the Chan Milan fic! What about a male reader version with him fucking Chan's brain out instead?

Right here with you, always - m!reader version

Pairing: Chan x male!Reader

Word Count: 2282

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, sub!chan, mirror sex (partly)

A/N: Hope you like it, lovey. Framwork is the same, smut is changed ofc🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

fem!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. You guided Chan to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, you pulled him gently into your lap, a smile playing on your lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.” At first, he blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your own confidence growing with the realization of how much he needed you in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” you murmured, your voice a soft rumble against his ear. Your hands were gentle but firm on his back, making every nerve in his body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how handsome you look,” you told him, hands fondling up his thighs. “Love how your body always searches mine,” you confessed, biting back a soft groan as he pressed down against you.

Your lips met his in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into his hair. Chan kissed back eagerly, grinding down against you with soft, needy sounds. Your grip on his hair tightened, your hips chasing his with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Your hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. You were skilled, knowing exactly how to make him feel cherished and desired all at once.

Chan quickly got up, getting rid of his trousers and boxers in one go. After checking in with you, his shirt joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, and he stood bare before you. You lifted your hips, shuffling your pants down enough to free your aching length. Your hands found his hips, and you pulled him back into your lap, smiling at how thrilled Chan seemed. You made quick work of preparing him, stretching him out with your fingers and kissing down his neck hungrily. Chan sunk down on you soon, moaning out loudly as you stretched his fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found purchase on your shoulders, steadying himself as he began to move. His head tipped back, exposing the graceful line of his neck, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. You held him closely, guiding him with a gentle yet insistent rhythm. The soft sounds of his pleasure mixed with the distant hum of the city night created a symphony of intimacy.

"You feel so amazing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire. You increased the pace, each thrust meeting him with a perfect alignment that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies.

Chan's response was to grip your shoulders tighter, his nails digging in slightly as the intensity built. His moans grew louder, more urgent, and he began to meet your movements with equal fervor. The connection between you deepened, a tangible thread of desire that pulled you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In the mirror at the closet opposite the sofa, you could see your reflections entwined in a passionate dance. Chan's body was a perfect contrast against your own. His skin was bathed in the soft light that filtered through the windows, highlighting his features in a glow that seemed almost ethereal. The sight of your dick disappearing inside him made you moan loud enough to catch his attention. "Look at us," you urged him, wanting him to see the beauty of the moment as you saw it. Reluctantly, Chan opened his eyes, and his gaze met the mirror behind the sofa, seeing the reflection from the mirror across the room. The sight of the two of you, so closely connected, so lost in each other, brought a new flush to his cheeks, but his eyes shone with an emotion that was deep and raw.

"Fuck," Chan breathed out, his voice catching as your movements brought him higher. “Need more, please,” he whined, needily moving his hips. “Go rough on me, please.”

Your heart pounded with desire at his plea, and you responded by increasing the intensity of your movements. Chan's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of his pleasure. When his moans reached a fever pitch, you decided to change positions. Gently, you lifted him off your lap, only to flip him around, settling him back onto you so he was facing the mirror on the closet. The new angle made him gasp, his eyes widening as he saw the full reflection of his own pleasure.

You wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him, your other hand coming up to cover his mouth, muffling his loud moans. "Shh," you whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin. "We don't want everyone to hear us."

The sensation of being silenced, coupled with the sight of himself in the mirror, seemed to drive Chan wild. His eyes locked onto yours in the reflection, his pupils dilated with lust. He started moving again, his hips grinding against you with a desperate urgency.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you murmured against his ear, your voice a low growl. "Look at how perfect we are together."

Chan's muffled moans vibrated against your palm, his body shivering with the intensity of the sensations. You kept your rhythm steady; each thrust hitting deeper, more precise, driving both of you closer to the edge.

Your eyes never left the mirror, watching the way Chan's body responded to your every move. The sight of him, completely undone, his face flushed and eyes filled with raw desire, spurred you on. "You're mine, Chan," you growled, your grip on his waist tightening. "Only mine."

He nodded, his eyes rolling back slightly as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. His body trembled, his muscles tightening around you in a way that sent shivers up your spine. You could feel your own release building, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

You thrust harder, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The mirror reflected the raw intimacy of the moment, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, the connection between you palpable and undeniable.

Chan's eyes were locked onto the mirror, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The sight of you behind him, your hands steady and confident, was overwhelming. His skin was flushed, his lips parted, and the tension in his body was electric. You could see every muscle in his back tense with each thrust, the sight of your reflection in the mirror making the moment even more intense.

"Fuck, Y/n," Chan managed to moan through your hand, his voice barely audible but full of raw emotion. The sight of his flushed face, the way his body moved with yours, was almost too much to handle. You could see the ecstasy building in his eyes, the need, the desire, everything laid bare in the reflection.

"You're close, aren't you?" you whispered in his ear, your voice thick with lust. "I can feel it, Chan. Show me how much you need this."

With another hard thrust, Chan's body tensed, his eyes rolling back as he almost reached the peak of his pleasure. His muffled moans were drowned out by your hand, his body shaking with every wave of ecstasy. You could feel the tightening of his walls around you, the warmth of his climax making you lose control as well.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself deep inside him, your release hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Chan's muffled cries of pleasure filled the room, his body convulsing as he followed you over the edge.

You held him close, both of you riding out the aftershocks of your climax. Slowly, you removed your hand from his mouth, pressing soft kisses along his neck and shoulder. "You did so well," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Chan turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. "With you, it’s always perfect," you replied, your hands gently caressing his sides.

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As he lay in your arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As he drifted off to sleep in your arms, he knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

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br4tphobia · 2 years

Text

obsessed . + eren jaeger

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ details + Toxic! eren jaeger x black!fem reader, unprotected sex, cock drunk reader, p in v, on and off relationship, toxicness, black coded y/n, profanity, dirty talk, humiliation kink if u squint, tummy buldge, over stimulation, and sex w/o plot!

✧˖*° vals note!! + first fic?? but not really since its short but pls forgive me if its sloppy 🫶🏾

“oh fu-u-u-uck!” you curse at the harsh deep strokes, his tip kissing your stomach from inside every time he slams back into you. gripping his shoulders with your long acrylics, leaving light scratches causing him to groan.

“shit baby..tell me how i make you feel..” placing his hand on your jaw, moving his free hand on your lower stomach, placing it on your tummy buldge, whimpering. “s-so good.. oh my god..” whining out with your eyes rolling the the back of your head.

your mind went blank, all your thoughts are of him. his name, his hands, how good he makes you feel. all you could think of was Eren. youre obsessed, so obsessed you hate it.. “oh fuh..right there! yesyesyesyes..” gripping his shoulders harder than before. the same spot being abused repeated causing you to release over his cock with no warning, causing a white ring forming.

“aw baby..i thought u h-hated me..look at you now. cumming on this dick, being such a pretty girl..all for me..?” he stammered at your walls tightening on him, his thrusts quickening. "its t-too much..e-eren!!" covering your eyes with your hand as u roll your head back at the immense pleasure. "lemme see those eyes ma.." muttered, still trying to hold a grudge against him but u give up. taking your hand off of your faces, making eye contact with eren.

"atta girl.. youre so- god.. fucking pretty.." he quickened his pace chasing after his own high "e-eren..! i-i cant take it.." you whimper at the over stimulation, arching your back as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. "pretty dont run from it, t-take it all.. i know you can" he grunted, pressing his hand over the dick print hes causing, lowering your arch. you cant help but whine even louder, you feel your orgasm approaching for the second time.

he knew by your volume, he loved hearing you, he loves the way you talk, your attitude, he loves you. and he wants you to know that. "im g-gonna cum again rennieee!" you warn, his grip tightening on your hips. the pit in your stomach getting hotter and hotter. "fuck.. go ahead p-pretty.. make a mess on this dick." his thumb on your clit causes you to break. shuddering under him, feeling his cum deep inside you.

trying to catch your breath, eren collapses on you. "boy get the f-fuck off of me!" panting, trying to push him off of you. “only if u forgive me.” he muttered, with his head burried in your neck. there was a awkward silence, thinking about your decision. knowing your previous mistakes with him, “mmch.” you kiss your teeth “..ok..now get yo big ass off me of me!” blurting, feeling a relief off your body.

“thats what i thought.” he rolls his eyes, “dont make me change my mind..” mean mugging him, seeing a smile form on his face and u cant help but do the same. “i love you” he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses

theemrsjaeger 2023 © do not plagiarize, copy, or repost anything I post. reblog if you enjoyed 🩷

#smut #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x poc!reader #attack on titan #eren smut #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #eren yaeger smut #eren yaeger #snk eren #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader #black reader #x black reader #aot x chubby reader #₊🌟 ˚ vals works ! ♡ ₊‧

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mysteria157 · 6 months

Text

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend.

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy? Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear. As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake.

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

“I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week.

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

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the-centennial-husbands-bigbang · 1 year

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We are happy to introduce you all to the Centennial Husbands' Big Bang!

We wish you a warm welcome to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang!

This is a Big Bang challenge focused around all things Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) from the Sandman comics and show, brought to you by the @mr-sadman Modteam!

Without further adue, here are all of the details!!

Our stance on plagiarism and AI

We do not accept nor condone the use of plagiarism, including the use of AI, whether in writing or art. If you are caught using either, you will be disqualified from the current event and barred entry for the other events the Mr. Sadman team puts forward.

General Rules and Informations

Anyone is welcome to participate!

Fear you can’t make it yet? Sign-ups for pinch-hitters will be open later during the event!

You can sign up both as an artist and a writer!! That said, we do not want you to bite more than you can chew, be careful and conscious of the event’s schedule!

Joining the Mr. Sadman discord is strongly advised, as there will be event related channels and roles available, but not required. Please make sure to give us another reliable and quick way to get a hold of you in the case that you don’t join the server/don’t use discord often!

If you are under the age of 18, you will not be able to create explicit content for the event. As a general rule, Mr. Sadman is a 16+ server, be aware of this fact!

The Mr. Sadman Modteam is a firm believer of “ship and let ship” as well as the kinktomato (https://fanlore.org/wiki/Kinktomato). As such, and in accordance with the Server’s existing rules, we will not tolerate any discrimination and harassment in any forms whatsoever. This includes : queerphobia, homophobia, racism, content policing, hate speech, doxxing, shaming, etc.

What’s a Big Bang?

Glad you asked! This is a challenge where writers come up with a 15k+ words fic and get paired with a just-as-enthusiastic artist that accompanies their written work with a piece of art! A detailed schedule spanning around 4 months will be available down this post, fear not!

15k is a lot of words, is there any other way that, as a writer, I can participate?

There is! We are offering a beta-reader partnering system as well as a Mini Bang!

What’s a Mini Bang?

This is a challenge similar to a Big Bang where you write a piece under 15k words! Do note that the Mini Bang does not come with art like the Big Bang does!

Why does the Mini Bang don’t include art?

This is the less stressful option for writers who still want to participate in the event! Less stress for the writers and none for the artists! That said, this might be revised if an important number of artists sign up!

I don’t think my Big Bang fic is gonna reach 15k, can I downgrade to the Mini Bang?

Yes! You will be able to downgrade until December 2nd, a few weeks before drafts are due and artist pairing starts!

I think my Mini Bang fic is gonna be longer than 15k, can I upgrade to the Big Bang?

Yes! You will be able to upgrade until December 2nd, a few weeks before drafts are due and artist pairing starts!

Rules and requirements

For Writers

What are the requirements for my fic?

Your fic must be an unpublished, completely new work! It needs to be able to stand on its own (meaning that sequels and crossovers/fusions are allowed, but your fic must be able to be read on its own!) and must meet the minimum word count requirement, which is 15k words. It is also strongly recommended for no parts of your work to have been already published elsewhere (even small snippets)!

It is also mandatory that you keep your work a secret - this is to assure an anonymous art claim process and is very important. If you talk about your work in any public way (this includes our discord server), your violation will be discussed amongst the mod team and could result in potential removal from the event!

Does it have to focus on a romantic pairing?

Not at all! Your fic can be platonic, romantic, neither or all of the above, as long as it focuses on the relationship between Dream and Hob!

Does my fic have to be beta-read?

While it is not mandatory, we strongly encourage you to use a beta reader during your writing process! Don’t have a beta reader already? We offer a beta-reader pairing system! Just make sure to fill in the appropriate section in the sign-up form to indicate that you are in need of betaing!

My friend and I want to co-author a fic, is that alright?

Hell yeah! We love collaboration! Simply make sure to indicate it on each of your sign-up forms (meaning that each one of you needs to fill a form)!! The word count requirement is still 15k (even if you are one, two, three or more, yes!) and keep in mind, though, that you will not receive more art because there are more authors!

Can I have a secondary pairing in my fic?

Yes! As long as the focus of your fic is Dream/Hob, go ham!

Can I write threesomes, foursomes, polycules?

Yes! As long as the focus of your fic is Dream/Hob, please do!!

Can I write RPF (Tom Sturridge/Ferdinand Kingsley)?

Yes!

What can’t I write, then?

Anything is fair game as long as it is properly tagged and/or warned for! Major content warnings (such as AO3 dictates) must also be applied properly! There is only one exception to this : work depicting real life children (such as the actors’), which is not allowed.

What if I have a fic that I’ve been working on but never posted?

You can totally use it! As long as your work remains unpublished, it’s fair game!

Can I write something for NaNoWriMo and use it as my submission?

Hell yeah!! As long as it’s unpublished and meets the word requirements!!

I’m so excited for this event that I want to write two fics, is that all right?

We never say no to more cake! Please do keep in mind that you’ll still have to respect the schedule for both works at the same time!

As the author, do I have a say in what my paired artist creates?

In short : no. While we do encourage collaboration, this is not a commission process. The artist has free reign on what they want to create that is inspired by your fic. If you can write what you want, then your artist can create what they want!

Can I already pair up with an artist friend?

Absolutely! Just make sure you tell us in the sign up form!

I don’t like my paired artist and/or what my artist has created.

While this is unfortunate, your artist has spent their own energy and free time to create their piece. To dismiss them and their efforts is plain rude. The mods will not step in and give you another artist simply because you are not pleased with your match. Your artist deserves your thanks, not your ire.

What are authors check-ins?

Be not afraid! These are mostly touch points for the modteam to make sure everyone is still on board and on schedule! That said, these are mandatory! Failure to respond to check-ins will disqualify you from participating in the current event.

What if I can’t meet a deadline?

Please make sure to inform a mod as soon as you know! Accommodations might be worked out depending on the situation. We simply ask you to be considerate to your fellow artists, it is unfair to them to back out as they had already started working on their pieces!

Where do I post my fic?

We ask you to post your story to the AO3 collection! You are free, after that, to post it anywhere else you’d like and/or prefer! There, you will also be able to embed and link to your artist’s piece(s)!

For Artists

What kind of art can I make?

Anything from traditional or digital drawing, to photomanips, fanvids, podfics, songwriting, book binding and more! We only ask you to put some effort into it, after all, your author has worked hard on their piece as well!

A few exceptions include : playlists, icons and banners. These, while being a nice and fun bonus for your author, can’t be counted as your primary piece!

How much art do I have to make?

You are required to make one piece of art! But if you are inspired, more are definitely welcome!

What are the minimum requirements for my art?

A minimum of 500px by 500px piece for visual pieces. A minimum of 2 minutes for digital pieces.

*If your art doesn’t fit within these parameters, an agreement can be reached between mod, author and artist as to what could be considered equivalent/sufficient.

How will I be able to claim a fic?

Art claims will be held from January 6th to 10th to give authors the time to complete a first draft as well as send in a summary of their work. We ask you to be readily available to answer messages during that time period as the process will be held on a “first come first served” basis. You will receive a link to the claiming form at the beginning of this period.

Can I already pair up with a writer friend?

Absolutely! Just make sure to tell us in the signing up form!

How do I get in touch with my writer?

Fear not, the mods will place you in contact with your partner once pairing is done!

What are artists’ check-ins?

What if I can’t meet a deadline?

Please make sure to inform a mod as soon as you know! Accommodations might be worked out depending on the situation. We simply ask you to be considerate to your fellow writers, it is unfair to them to back out as they had already started working on their pieces!

Where do I post my art?

From your designated host (whether that’s tumblr, pillowfort, etc.) so that it can be embedded into AO3! We simply ask you to use the relevant tags and link back to your writer’s story!

I’m not a writer nor an artist, but I wish to help. What can I do?

You are very welcome to join us as a beta reader! Every author has different betaing needs, but betaing ranges from cheering your author on, to making sure their grammar and spelling is tip-top! This is an event-long commitment, so make sure you know this before signing up! You are also very welcome to share any relevant information about the Big Bang and join us on Mr. Sadman for all things Sandman!!

Event Schedule

Sign-ups : September 18th to October 21rst First Check-in : October 28th Second Check-in : November 18th Upgrade/Downgrade for Mini Bang/Big Bang : December 2nd Third Check-in/First Draft+Summary due : December 22nd Holiday Pause : December 23rd to January 3rd Art claims : January 6th-10th Art Pairings Masterpost : January 11th Pinch-hitter Signups : January 29th to February 2nd Fourth Check-in : February 3rd Pinch-hitter post : February 4th Final draft : February 25th Posting dates : March 1rst to 3rd

I want to Sign Up!!

You can fill the form and sign up here : https://forms.gle/2RwZrPNxs4Y95oLS9

I need help, how do I reach a mod?

If there is something that is not covered by our rules masterpost and/or FAQ, you are very free to DM us here, on tumblr!

We are also available on email at [email protected] and on discord at Mr. Sadman

That said, the dedicated mods for this event are Winter, Aria, Ches and Britt!

Have fun and keep the Dreamling on!!

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tarjapearce · 2 months

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Regarding Stealing and plagiarism by Fangweaver99/Miorjah

WARNING: LOTS AND LOTS OF TEXT AND PROOFS OF PLAGIARISM.

For a brief context to those that don't know, on June 20th I was notified through this post that there was a story that contained awfully simmilar ideas of my fic, Of Flowers and Humminfbirds. An idea that has been out for almost a year both here and A03.

As some of you may know, plagiarism has been part of my stance on this website. Not once, not twice, but thrice now with my stories.

However, as I said before, I will NOT tolerate more of this disrespectful behavior towards my work. The user in the post provided some proofs as you can see. However I took the liberty to see with my own eyes that not only some ideas were copied/tweaked. but also, parts of my fic that revolves mostly on the events of chapter 1,2 and 3 of OFAHB were taken.

Also, this is NOT an open invitation to harass them. Mind you, before I get accused of it again.

To starters, I'd like to clarify some things that might not be clear to people. Fangweaver themselves told me they had NEVER read my fanfiction, only my other work, called Miguelverse. Their friend approached me first with this BIG fat lie.

"They haven't read your fanfiction"

Now, If they haven't read it, why their name showed up in my kudos notification mail on MAY 5TH 2024? And their fic A Minor Slip Up was posted on 2024-06-15? Proof A:

Proof B: (If you go to my A03 profile on my fic, you can see it for yourself that their name is there.)

2. False accusations of harrasment done by their friend qphelia : Proof A:

Which was the opposite, as my ask box got filled by the same people over and over. (You can see it in my profile if you scroll down enough, along some claims they've done)

Proof B: (Didn't you just say that they were getting harrassed already?)

Which I did, they reached out an hour later, saying exactly the same.

Now regret of not reading their outline, cause they did send it. I was too angry to look at it.

Now. The plagiarism.

As most of you know, Comic Miguel is a cheater. He cheated on Xina Kwan with Dana D'Angelo, but he NEVER cheats on Dana. Some may say, "Yes, that has been done before where Miguel cheats on Dana" and you're right. However, cheating SPECIFICALLY on her in a gala, hosted by Alchemax and having sex in a workplace space, Isn´t canonical nor generic. It's from my authorship.

Of Flowers and Hummingbirds Chapter 1, Miguel and Reader Meeting and mentions of cheating:

Proof A, B & C of Fangweaver's fic, on Chapter 2 & 4:

A not so subtle hint to my 'underpaid receptionist' reader.

The span of time working for Alchemax. I know it sounds stupid, but it's there. Even that got used.

OFAHB Chapter 1:

Fangweaver's fic synopsis and proof A:

The Smut. You might think this is getting ridiculous but, it isn't.

In OFAHB chapter 1 There is a fingering scene, and some other dialogues that got tweaked/cherrypicked.

Fangweaver's fic on chapter 3:

Now, you think that's it but, sadly no.

In the aftermath of the cheating sex, in my fic, OFAHB chapter 1, they share a moment where reader falls to the floor and look for her panties. Then, they clean themselves up.

in Fangweaver's fic on chapter 4:

The reader's pregnancy suspicion:

On chapter 2 of OFAHB, Reader is struck with a nausea wave she thinks its food poisoning at first, then she faints and goes to Alchemax clinic where she is handed vitamins and a pregnancy test:

In Fangweaver's fic on chapter 7:

The confession:

OFAHB Chapter 3: Miguel and reader share a heated arguement, hinting at the baby isn't his.

On Fangweaver's fic, chapter 6:

----

Update: They've changed the synopsis of their work.

I could name a few more but in truth, it's pointless when the obvious is there. Sadly I've been pushed to put disclaimers in each of my stories, cause of this. It shouldn't happen, since we're supposed to be adults, knowing what's right and what's wrong. And if you know thievery is wrong, why doing it?

Credits won't be given because they know what they've done. What truly angered me were the accusations of harassment, and the OBVIOUS cynism on their end. Which reminds me, these three people are involved in the creation of that fic.

Although I know that there is no way to protect my work from people like this, it's truly discouraging for me as a content creator to have this sort of experiences in the fandom.

CREDIT ALWAYS . Don't go for the easy way. Don't disrespect people just for dumb shit as views and popularity.

-T.

#talking with t✨#personal post #plagiarism

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whatislovevavy · 9 months

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Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure

Jake Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Hangman and Cherry have never been able to be in the same room as the other without nearly ripping each other's throats out. Hangman provides a solution that provides her a sense of freedom and pleasure that she begins to crave.

Warnings: Smut, P in V, degradation, hot pilots being delusional and horny

Word Count: 3.4k

Soph's Collection of Literature

A note: This is a nice little piece I made for @roosterforme's TopGun 80's Rocktober Challenge using Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World. The lovely divider was made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more. I hope you enjoy <3

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

“God, you’re such a dick,”

You almost missed the way his lips curved into a smirk into the sensitive flesh of the column of your neck. Hands gripping into his shoulders as he sucked at your pulse, pushing your hips into the cold metal lockers behind you with a resonating bang, his broad hands digging into your Nomex clad waist enough to leave marks.

Time was not in your favor, and you could sense that the team had their suspicions about what Hangman and Cherry were doing while they weren’t trying to rip the other to shreds on the tarmac.

“I always did like you more when you were too busy takin' my cock to say your little bratty comments,” he growled into your throat.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way his gravelly tone and filthy words made you want to clench your thighs around his lean waist.

A huff left your lips.

He was absolutely vexing.

His hands gripped harder into your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your ass, making you let out what could be best described as a repressed sigh.

And shameless and cocksure.

He harshly sucked at the flesh of your neck, sure to leave angry, deep purple marks in his wake, the act making you hiss.

A significant part of you had stopped caring to cover up the traces of your rendezvous; new ones would be there the following day or later in the week anyway.

And was absolutely filled to the brim with brazen confidence and a glaring disregard for others.

You had to bite into the soft, plump flesh of your lip to silence yourself as his mouth made you want to softly whimper.

Chewing him out only turned him on, and ignoring him just made him press harder into your nerves.

You couldn’t win with him. Maybe that was why you let yourself have this arrangement.

To see if you could win, and claim victory over the infamous Hangman that had women for miles lined up for a chance to warm his bed.

Because just like him, you craved victory.

His fingers frantically reached for your front zipper, pulling the dark green material down your body, exposing more and more flesh by the second to his ravenous mouth.

A sigh passed your lips as he fondled your breast, bringing your tank top down to expose your pebbled nipple to the cooler air of the locker room with a gasp, taking the sensitive flesh into his warm mouth with a deep growl.

You hated that he had this effect on you.

Not in a way that itched your skin, but in a way that made your insides swirl and buzz with…

A low whine pulled its way past your lips as he let the rough pads of his fingers run through your folds.

“Mhm, so wet, Cherry. This all f’me?”

His chest inflated with pride at the glare you shot him.

He watched with salacious eyes as he removed his fingers, “Come on, sweets, we both know ya don’t get this wet for just anyone.”

You watched as he let his tongue glide over his bottom lip, his gaze heavy on your flushed cheeks and glazed over eyes.

Agitation overcame you at the sight of him as he closed his eyes, humming at the taste of you on his fingers, trying to ignore how much you ne-wanted his touch again.

And trying to remember how much you hated it when he called you that little endearment with that irritating southern drawl of his.

Maybe this whole arrangement was to gain some freedom from this chase you both did with each other, to put your hatred for him to better use.

To have an outlet. Yeah that was it. An outlet. A reprieve from your hatred induced frustrations.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His dry laugh made your insides burn and your nails dig into his shoulders just that much harder.

He nipped at your jaw as your nails dug harshly into the back of his neck.

The act made him growl into the column of your throat, the vibrations making you almost shiver.

“I already do, sweets. You wouldn’t keep coming back if it weren't the case.”

You scoffed.

“You’re insufferable.”

His lip quirked.

“And so god-damn frustrating.”

He hummed, his ego growing like his cock in the thin confines of his flight suit with each breathless word that passed sweet, no-faults-in-sight, perfect straight shooter Cherry’s lips.

“But I’m not wrong,” he replied, giving your neck a playful nip.

“I never said you were right, and don’t call me sweets,” you quipped back, trying to keep your voice steady as he sucked at your pulse point.

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot against your skin, “always so feisty, Cherry,”

Your words died on your lips as his lips lathed at your chest, softly biting into your nipple. A soft sigh left your lips as he soothed your flesh with his frustratingly nimble tongue.

His touch almost made you miss him as he took a second to pull down his flight suit, his white undershirt clashing with his golden tan skin and clinging to his biceps. The imprint of his dog tags showing through his cotton shirt. Your eyes followed the path of the white fabric as he unveiled the sharp ridges and dips of hard muscle from his defined adonis belt, to his marble carved abs that seemed to go on for days, to his pectorals and thick, broad shoulders.

"We don't have all day, Bagman," you said, voice lacking the authority you hoped it would still have.

His muffled dry laugh made your jaw clench and stomach flip.

Your voice couldn't have sounded that desperate, could it?

His lip quirked, revealing pearly white teeth.

"Didn't realize you were in a rush, got a hot date later?"

Your eyes narrowed, his teasing smile grating on your nerves.

"As a matter of fact, I do," you managed to say without your voice sounding too breathless or shaky.

His eyes narrowed for only a millisecond.

A flash of something you've never seen before.

In his eyes, at least.

But as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

"Mhm," he bit the inside of his cheek, leaning down to kiss at your neck, coming up to your tender ear lobe, giving the soft flesh a delicate bite that had a hitched breath leaving your parted lips.

You hated how well versed he was in the subtle language of your body.

He firmly squeezed your hips in his broad hands, his fingers sneaking under the fabric of your bunched up flight suit to your ass.

You almost shivered at his warm breath settling against your ear.

"Does he know he's gonna be getting sloppy seconds?"

A scoff passed your lips, "I don't see how that's of any concern to you."

He hissed as your nails dug harder into the back of his neck.

"We both know you don't date. That's why this works so well, "he said dryly as he kissed at your neck, slowly pulling the Nomex material below your waist, your legs moving at their own accord to step out of the sleeves.

He had a point. An annoying and frustrating point.

"It's the first date anyway," you replied, choosing to ignore the evident vibrations of the chord he just struck through your chest.

He let his jade, evergreen eyes settle on you.

Those same eyes that could read you like a book he's read a hundred times over.

His lip quirked, eyebrows scrunching in amusement.

"That's really romantic, Cherry, really. Showing up with another man's cum dripping down your thighs as he sweats himself on the first date."

Your mouth dried up, utterly speechless at the words he said with that trademark Hangman confidence.

Your eyes narrowed, eyebrows softly pinching together.

A smirk grew on his lips that made you want to slap him, or pull his lips towards yours.

You couldn't decide.

He kept his heated, lust-bright gaze on yours as he trailed his calloused fingers in between the material of your panties and your soft, supple skin, relishing in the feel of gooseflesh he left in his wake.

You watched as let his gaze shift downwards, clicking his tongue.

"Cherry, you shouldn't have... you wore my favorite pair just for me?"

You bit your lip as he continued to toy with the soft, blush pink material of your undergarment.

That same full-of-himself smirk that you hated curved his lips.

But do you know what you hated more?

The fact that you couldn't help but feel like some part of you purposely decided to wear the pair, and not because you purely wanted to, but because there was a part of you that wanted to wear them just for him.

He gently rolled them down your thighs, letting you step out of them.

He let his hand drift under the back of your thigh to behind your knee, grasping your leg and lifting it to bend at his hip before snatching the pair of pink panties that hung off your ankle.

Your eyes followed his hand as he bunched the material between his dexterous fingers.

"Excuse me, I'd like those back," you snipped.

His lip quirked.

"If you're good, I'll consider it, sweets."

You huffed, glaring at the smirk and subsequent wink he sent you.

Your glare worsened as he brought the material to his nose, taking a deep inhale, a deep sigh of satisfaction leaving his lips, doing your damnedest to ignore the soft throbbing of your clit at the sight, and to suppress the whine that threatened to bubble up in your throat.

"Always smell so sweet, Cherry, like a perfect, little cherry pie." He murmured as he placed the debauched material into the pocket of his flight suit.

"You're disgusting and don't call me sweets," you gritted back, raising your voice with a snarl that Jake knew was all bark and no bite.

At least with him.

He gave that salacious smile that always made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or knock his perfect teeth out. Or fuck him. Or grab him by his hair and-

Your jaw tensed, nostrils flaring.

His smile widened, evidently proud of the rouse of emotion he pulled from you.

You were too much fun to tease.

"Shhh,” you could have sworn that you saw red the moment the condescending noise left his lips, “someone's gonna hear ya if you keep that up, and ya wouldn't want someone to see just how well I can get along with ya, right Cherry? Make ya make such sweet, absolutely sinful sounds f’me?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, much to your unending irritation with the visceral response this man managed to pull out of you each time he had you.

Whether it was the Hard Deck bathroom during the saturday night rush, that one time at the beach long after Bob Floyd’s birthday celebration, or on the other side of Admiral Simpson’s white fence during the Fourth of July BBQ that past summer.

A chuckle broke free from his chest as you laid a smack to his thick pectoral, eyes still sharp and full of what could be described as a cauldron of hate and lust to anyone else who had the misfortune of interrupting their, what could be described as, animalistic rutting.

He pulled down his flight suit to settle down to the tiled floor with a small thump, his body only clad in his signature pair of Calvin Klein briefs.

That was another thing you hated about him; he looked good in anything.

It pained you to say that he could easily have become a model if the Navy hadn't worked out.

Your nails dug into his shoulders before softly tracing down his body, over each ridge, each chord, each plane of muscle and bulging vein that made you salivate more than you would care to admit.

He pulled his briefs down, letting his thick cock that always forced you to take a minute to adjust to sprung up against his adonis belt with a soft tap.

A soft sigh passed your lips as he gently traced at the embarrassingly soaked folds of your cunt with the pads of his fingers.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin would never admit it, but he was disappointed he didn't have the time to taste you, to savor what he would describe as the intoxicating taste of candied cherries that dribbled down your flushed folds like a sweet nectar.

Sweet nectar from a poisonous, intolerable, type-A personality fruit.

He hated that he wanted to quirk his lip at the birthmark just above your soft, sensitive little clit. To hear that sweet sinful sound he, disappointedly, hadn't been able to find in anyone else when he fucked you with his tongue.

A soft puff of breath passed your lips as he lined up the angry, red bulbous head at your flushed cunt. Grunting as his sensitive head met your drenched folds.

His entrancing eyes hurriedly met yours.

You feverishly nodded.

Jake pushed his length into the delicious inferno of your tight, little pussy.

Your breath felt like cement in your lungs as he let his full, long, thick length accommodate itself into your welcoming heat.

He let his head fall to the crook in her shoulder, her nails still gripping into the thick cords of muscle of his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

"Jesus, Cherry,” he murmured.

God, the way his voice graveled out praise was the most unfortunate consequence of this arrangement that still affected you hours after your trysts.

His cock seemed to push any capability of forming coherent sentences out of your body.

All that passed your lips were sharp intakes of breath and low mewls that left your throat without your consent.

He gave an experimental thrust into your heat, letting your soft sighs of pleasure meet his ears as you adjusted to his length.

Your breath hitched as he brought your other leg around his waist, his biceps bulging with the effort of thrusting into you against the smooth, metal locker doors.

"More."

"Come on, sweets, you can do better than that."

He smirked at your breathless tone.

If his cock didn’t feel like the only thing you needed at the moment to live, you would have told him to go fuck himself.

You laid your head back against the dark gray metal surface, eyes meeting his fiery, lush, emerald gaze, voice frozen in your throat, lips parted.

He manhandled your legs, forcing them to cross around his waist, gripping your waist in his broad hand in a borderline painful grip.

His other hand brought up to grip at the sides of your throat. A low moan came from your lips that had him smirking deviously and your cheeks turning red, utterly at the mercy of him and his thick cock that was rubbing deliciously at that spot he always found with maddening accuracy.

“Please, more,”

Those two words made you cringe with embarrassment, unable to stop the small whimper that passed your bite swollen lips.

His salacious chuckle met your ears, making your cheeks burn brighter.

“God, I can never get used to you like this… so needy and desperate. You become such a sweet girl when I get my dick in ya. Haven’t even started yet, and you're already babbling like a cock-drunk little slut.”

All you could do was part your lips and muster enough composure to utter two simple words.

“F-fuck you,”

His eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise, leaning his head towards your ear. The scent of bergamot and cedar wood filling your senses.

“You already are, sweets,” he growled, sharply thrusting into your sopping wet cunt.

Your gasp and tightening of your grip into his shoulder and hand that settled at your neck had him throbbing against your velvet walls that oh so begged him to never leave.

“Fuck, Cherry, I bet you don’t even hate me,” he panted, “not,” thrust, “even,” thrust, “a little,” thrust, “bit.”

Your cries of pleasure spilled from your lips and into the empty on base locker room, fingernails gripping and scratching into him almost enough to draw blood.

He gripped your throat just a bit harder, enough to have your eyes rolling back, wanton moans pouring from your lips as he pistoned his hips into your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to his. Close enough to see the small specks of hazel in his almost unending green eyes. And the kink in his nose he got when he broke it back at the Naval Academy. And to smell the potent scent of you on his breath.

“I think you just need someone who can fuck you like this. Treat you like a slut and fuck your tight, little hole. Just like you need.” He gritted out, continuing to pound up into your dripping heat that dribbled your arousal to the tile floor below.

You couldn’t help the labored pants of breath as you nodded feverishly, your consciousness shutting down and your own body taking over.

He let out a dark chuckle with a carnal grin, his abdomen feeling tight as his balls slapped against the underside of your ass, his release building.

“God, you’re fucking adorable for thinking anyone else could fuck you like this,” he snarled.

Your high pitched whines and obscene moans had him gripping you that much tighter and chasing your high.

“Oh, fuck, please!”

He could feel the sweat building at his forehead and chest as he pistoned his hips into your pretty pink, flushed, little pussy.

He ne-wanted you to come first. His ego demanded it. Demanded that he bend you to his will.

His spine tingled at the feeling of your walls spasming around his dick at his brutal pace.

You shuddered at the feeling of his mouth near the soft cartilage of your ear, breathing caught in your throat.

“Please what, sweets? Use your words.” he growled.

“Please, Please… make me cum.”

A deep chested groan rumbled through his throat at your pathetic whine, “fuck, I’ll make you cum, sweets, I’ll make you cum,” he growled.

Your body was wracked by tremors as he thrusted, channeling each ounce of strength in his body into pummeling your flushed cunt.

He watched as your eyes clenched shut, eyebrows pinching together as your feather soft lips parted into a strangled moan that was much louder than the previous ones.

In a split second, he crashed his lips to yours, swallowing each sound of pleasure that escaped your body as he finally felt your walls choke his cock for all he was worth. Your breath mixed with his as your chest heaved, his hips still pistoning into your no doubt raw cunt.

Oversensitivity wracked your body, making you cry out as his chest heaved and lips swallowed each cry and moan. Stars and galaxies flashed before your eyes as he kept his grip on your throat, chasing his high as your second one consumed you.

You could feel with each thrust, how his cock throbbed against your slick, sensitive walls.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he grunted out, a gut punch groan resonating against the locker walls that encased you both.

Your clit tingled at the feeling of his release painting your walls, squirming with each soft impact they landed against your delicate cervix. ��

His head fell down to your shoulder as his chest heaved, breathing heavy.

You felt as though your head was spinning as your breathing evened out, absentmindedly running your fingers along the pebbled chain of the dog tags that settled between his pecs on a soft bed of sparse, golden chest hair and freckles sparingly scattered across his chest.

Your fingers paused, retracting them to hold onto his shoulder as his breathing settled.

This arrangement was meant to get you both the most of freedom and of pleasure.

Nothing more and nothing less.

He placed a kiss along your neck. His soft touch almost made you sigh.

Almost.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut, basking in the moment of feeling him still inside you. His softening cock letting his release dribble around the seams of where his cock perfectly encased itself between your folds.

His head rose up to meet your face, cheeks flushed and sensuous evergreen eyes that seemed to glow with a post high gaze.

“Meet same time tomorrow?”

People who may be interested <3

@roosterforme @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @withahappyrefrain @entertainmentgirl80 @teacupsandtopgun @seresinhangmanjake @goldenseresinretriever @sailor-aviator @hello7442 @gigisimsonmars @yepyeahuhhuh @tess-lecter-blog@hookslove1592 @86laura11 @seresinsbrat @isabelstardis @shamelessghostwagonwobbler @emma8895eb @taytaylala12 @kmc1989 @h-ngm-ns @hangmans-wingman @marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @potato-girl99981 @a-beaverhausen @callmemana@joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @djs8891 @novastories@urmom-999 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30@shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @slippinginto-theairwaves

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #tgm #glen powell #top gun maverick #hangman smut #tgm x reader #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x you

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thunderandsage · 3 months

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hannibal fic recs

(in honor of my first ever fandom… yea i get the implications of how that makes me look 😂 anyways, i tend to like the hannibal fics that are closer to the tone and content of the series vs some of the more popular ones jsyk, and i’m putting the more “same characters, different vibes ” fics in the bottom section. my absolute favorites recs are the ones with red titles)

SEASON 1 ERA/VIBES

Pièce Montée, 3k words, episode-style case fic with well-written original characters and plot, sympathetic killers, would kill (ha) for this to be an actual episode on the show

where there is smoke, there is fire, 3k, georgia madchen character study, reading experience comparable to the joy and dread of watching sparks catch on kindling

Foreplay, 1.5k, despite the title not a smut fic but is actually a hannibal character study which takes the premise “seeing people as meat” and seeing how he does/doesn’t view people’s humanity

SEASON 2 ERA/VIBES

Salome, 6k words, tension, delves into the dark obsessive side of oscar wilde’s work, excellent hannibal pov

As Smoke to Flame, 3k, wherein the seduction does include fucking and predictably doesn’t make anything better, focuses on the inherent angst and betrayal of will’s ploy

Trotline, 7k, takes the fluffy-sounding premise of “will takes hannibal fishing” and makes it uh hannibal, an incredible take on hannibal’s sadism/cruelty, gorgeous looming sense of dread

each according to its own kind, 192k, after getting released will ditches the fbi and leaves for the other side of the continent, a love letter to the pacific northwest, the best will graham interpretation i have ever seen, slowburn character study, bonus points bc hannibal gets decked not once but twice in glorious detail, john steinbeck vibes, one of my favorite pieces of writing ever

pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals, 8k, daemon au where will has yet another difference, not a hannigram fic, beverly/will vibes, bittersweet and tragic

your heart is a vast stone desert, 10k, a conversation goes left field and enters the thorny splendor of psychedelic imagery and the most sinuous dialogue you’ve ever read, takes inspiration from ives’s play venus in fur

SEASON 3 ERA/VIBES

Silver Springs, 2k, a Dolce “let’s make this worse,” non-linear writing, heavy angst but god it hurts so good, gorgeous feels from the eponymous song

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks, 6k, a short scene in the BSHCI, what it means to be loved gently by a monster, grotesque and tender at the same time

highway 190, 10k, will graham growing up as a queer man in the deep south and beyond, religious trauma, prose as vivid and striking as a poisonous snake

Churrasco, 2k, leans into the avant-garde vibes of the show, all characters start out using false identities and you get to see them revealed slowly

Au Natur, 9k, a bleak but beautiful imagining of post-fall hannigram, fully embraces will graham’s manipulative tendencies

forgiveness, 1k, a poem-with-footnotes format as Will attempts to explain what his life has become to his father

Sins of Omission, 15k, Jack Crawford’s perspective on the development of hannigram, regret, very good outsider pov

VIBES-ADJACENT (aka fics that don’t “feel hannibal” or are vy AU, but are vy good nonetheless)

Adrasteia, 96k words, Kitchen Nightmares AU, nsfc (not safe for chilton), a hilariously sarcastic and done(tm) will graham, the first long hannibal fic that i read

Black Swan, 10k, as per the tags “all serial killers are birds, some birds are serial killers,” a cracky Swan Lake AU

Separately to a Wood, 13k, a “love at first sight” leads to “proposal during the breakfast scene,” soft

They Came to Florence or: Plagiarize This Fic, 5k, hannibal is a huge fan of will graham’s novels and becomes incensed when someone plagiarizes them, the author was apparently inspired to write this after someone plagiarized one of her fics and i respect that

Poppies, 5k, wherein it is acknowledged that for all the horror she’s been through abigail is just a teenage girl and is allowed some soft moments

their beaks not yet turned red, 134k, magical realism au where the baby does miraculously save the marriage, includes hilarious takes on the inherent absurdities of hannibal’s trial

Be Your Dog, 4k, a rock band au that adapts will graham’s proverbial “descent to the dark side” with an ominous intensity

Sagittarius, 13k, a salem witch trials au where will seeks to avenge abigail’s death by any means necessary, dark but cathartic

a siphon; to pass through, 71k, will has type one diabetes and hannibal is an infuriatingly smug vampire, crack but extremely well-written

#hannibal #hannibal fic #fic rec #hannibal lecter #will graham #ao3 #fanfiction

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.

His name.

His looks.

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two.

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity."

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of—

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter.

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background."

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this!

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.

You sigh, rubbing your temples.

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"

You abruptly fall silent.

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply.

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS."

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today."

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will."

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh?

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that."

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!

You give his arm a light pat.

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff."

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?"

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—"

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell.

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—"

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed.

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–"

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head."

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.

You nod slowly.

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..."

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you."

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you.

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place."

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?"

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.

Perhaps not.

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those."

"Mind telling me those new reasons?"

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you."

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?"

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh?

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you."

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right?

Right?

"Wrong."

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?"

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.”

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin.

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest."

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you."

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what???

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh.

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—

Oh, sour heavens above.

That's a different story altogether.

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

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jeonride · 1 year

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— BLINDING LIGHTS ☆

an ateez maknae line series ·˚

— ever had the feeling like you want to have a rockstar boyfriend? at least, once in your lifetime? because why not? rockstars are rich, have a lot of cars parked inside the garage, luxurious condominium, and so on. but well yeah, they are scandalous. so if you're searching for a scandalous romance story that also heart-breaking, you might take a look of this series !

— JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE ! or simply just leave comment/ask/send me dm ! the 1st story will be released soon ! (in order)

FEATURING : ateez maknae line x afab!reader

STATUS : on going !

GENRE : illicit affair, angst, crime, romance, slight fluff (pls do not expect a lovey dovey story), rockstar au, friends with benefits to lovers (mingi), enemies to lovers (wooyoung), exes to fuck buddies (san), strangers to fuck buddies (jongho).

WARNINGS : SMUT, EACH CHAPTER HAS ITS OWN WARNINGS SO PLEASE READ THOROUGHLY BEFORE YOU READ !

— ELEVATOR DEAL ☆

ft. bassist!san x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and san had broke up two years ago, yet you guys met again at the hotel you used to go with him whenever he had concerts back then. you were celebrating your friend's birthday party, half-drunk, and unfortunately bumped to your ex's chest in the elevator and san were surprised too seeing you had changed a lot. that was when the deceptive deal began between you and san- inside the elevator, where no one was watching what you've done with him.

"you know what? you're way more attractive when you're angry. i liked you right after our first fight, back then."

CLICK TO READ ! not yet !

— HEART LIKE YOURS ☆

ft. drummer!mingi x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: mingi had always been in love with you, even though he knew, both of you were just "friends with benefits". but he swore, his feelings toward you were so fucking real. he hated to see you around with your boyfriend, hated that you prefer be with your abusive boyfriend to be with him. and one day, he got chance to show how much he loved you, with his own way.

"heart like yours should've been love someone like me."

CLICK TO READ ! not yet !

— LOVE WAS NOT LOST ☆

ft. guitarist!wooyoung x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: jung wooyoung, was your campus crush who said that you weren't even pretty, you weren't even his type- when you confessed your feelings toward him on valentine's day. well, the wounds already healed though, it happened three years ago and you haven't seen him again after graduated. but still, you can feel the little sting everytime you remember his words. so you really had no idea when he came to your apartment, all sweaty because he just performed and ran to you.

"why didn't you tell me that you're back to this town?"

well, why he wanted to know?

CLICK TO READ ! not yet !

— OUT OF LUCK ☆

ft. guitarist vocalist!jongho x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: you weren't think more further when you applied to be a maid at jongho's mansion. all you knew that this man was rich rich, and you need a lot of money. so when it was time for you to work, you came with the sweetest smile on your face, bowed politely and said that you will do anything that he needed.

"anything? even when i ask you to be on my bed?"

CLICK TO READ ! not yet!

you can find more of my fics here!

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ddostoyevskyy · 26 days

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𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... This is the official masterlist of WINGS ERA featuring MHA. Every short or long fic will be heavily based off BTS’ Wings album and based off the author’s imagination.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... heavily implied DARK ROMANCE, fem!reader, yandere!reader, heavy gore, angel/devil quirks, based off BS&T lore, greek mythology, mentions of God, Lucifer, NO blasphemy, religiously implied, overpowered!reader, religious themes, trauma!reader, disassociation, split-personality, sexual themes; sexual abuse, mental abuse, assaultion, women oppresions, non-canon scenarios, coming-of-age trope, the following does NOT follow any canon implications, every fic were imaginary.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... I can’t promise that these will be canon through the characters. But I’ll do my best as I can. I’m actually challenging myself to write more complex characters (especially Touya, omfg) and as you can see, AWAKE and STIGMA was left without any character to fill so please, please, request anyone from MHA. I still can’t find the right character to fill the summary I made, so... help me :p

STATUS: UPDATING....

➹ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎: 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋!

feat. Todoroki Touya, Dabi.

summary: ❛Why does that little girl’s naivety made the little boy too greedy? How does one protect with such little mind but his body’s already different? What does it makes to be bad as it too sweet at the same time?❟

note: following the Todoroki family lore but not the whole series’ canon plot.

➹ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒!

feat. Takami Keigo, Hawks.

summary: ❛The Fall of the Rebel of Angels and its familiarity always makes his own wings stutters. As fast as he was, as slow as the time goes by, the unforgotten desire of you will always be trapped in an asylum where they tucked you away.❟

note: following Hawks’ lore but not the whole series’ canon plot.

➹ 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍!

feat. Bakugo Katsuki.

summary: ❛Youth is a bitch, so was he. As he reflected along his mistakes and blames, sticks through the flames, the remnants of you stood still at the back of his head; all young and innocent — ‘til he stumbles upon you again, the same eyes and face but never the same heartbeat you shared.❟

note: following Bakugo’s childhood lore but not the whole series’ canon plot.

➹ 𝐋𝐈𝐄!

feat. Shimura Tenko, Shigaraki Tomura.

summary: ❛The mask he puts on his face where equivalent to what he portrays; a man that he wasn’t. He had lived his life driven by nothing and you lie awake.❟

note: following Shigaraki’s childhood lore but not the whole series’ canon plot.

➹ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀!

feat. tba.

summary: ❛As you lie awake, he slumbers and swim under your influence; in his dreams, he was having a conversation with his father; and when he wakes up, the man he wasn’t became your enigma’s puzzle.❟

note: CHARACTER REQUEST ARE OPEN.

➹ 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄!

feat... tba.

summary: ❛The relentless nights of nightmares haunts you down in vain, leaving you awake. You knew what you saw, so why is he here now besides you like you could forget the way his heart dropped a beat?❟

note: CHARACTER REQUEST ARE OPEN.

➹ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄: 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒!

feat. Takami Keigo, Hawks.

summary: ❛The world finally lets you spread your wings to fly — the world being him, because no matter how you denies, you knew he’s the reason why you wanted to fly.❟

note: spin off of ‘Blood, Sweat and Tears.’

#bnha #bnha smut #mha fic #mha todoroki #mha imagines #mha spoilers #mha smut #mha masterlist #[❤; niko's masterlist]#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x you #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki x you #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #shigaraki x reader #mha

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midnightbears · 5 months

Text

✿ tell 'em how the crowds went wild! tell 'em how i hope they shine!

⎯ in which you look back on how grateful you are for the opportunity bestowed upon you. aka: you joined the opla's cast!

#STARRING. iñaki godoy, mackenyu, jacob romero, taz skylar, emily rudd ft. fem!reader [elle fanning 4 faceclaim but u can imagine y/n anyway u wish!].

#TAGS. sfw, kind of context, a bit of smau but its tiny. mentions of covid just in case it's triggering?

#NOTE. pardon my rusty writing but i really wanted to get this out!!! i added an oc from one piece for the sake of the story but she's barely mentioned so uuuh yuh! timeline may be wrong but i work with what i'm given please bear with me. let me know if you would like more fics of this y/n??? ALSO IGNORE THE WATERMARKS ON THE PHOTOS I NEEDED TO MAKE THEM NEATER

In the past, if someone were to come up to you and tell you that you’d be a part of the One Piece Live Action main cast in the future, you would’ve probably laughed in their faces despite your wishful thinking.

At that time, you were content with your work, doing short theatre plays with companies or gaining minor roles in musicals. Everything changed when you landed the role for the one-woman show Fleabag for a limited time on London’s West End after the leading actress underwent emergency surgery for an appendectomy. You only acted as the sex-obsessed mess of a woman for about three weeks, but it was enough time for people to notice you, to really see you.

You believed your career had reached its pinnacle when you were cast as Katherine Howard in Six: The Musical in London. Your name had become somehow well-known in the musical theatre world, and you had a small but dedicated fan base who liked uploading edits of you being a dork during the Megasix on YouTube and TikTok.

Months later, you were bound to play as Fantine for Les Miserables when COVID abruptly struck, and you were dismayed that your job was ripped from you so abruptly. Your best friend, the sweetest person on earth, insisted on you moving in with her in fear that you’d be evicted from your apartment.

Months passed, and you eventually found a small way to help your friend pay rent by offering singing and acting lessons online to musical-aspiring teenagers. Since you had gained many followers from your earlier work on social media, it didn’t surprise you when the classes became sold out.

Your friend also convinced you to create a YouTube channel for you to upload videos of yourself (sometimes joined by her) where you watched and commented shitty movies, followed DIY tutorials just for the fun of it, performed covers of your favorite songs, and just generally vlogged your life (along with reactions to Taylor Swift’s (From The Vault) songs).

At first, you thought it was pretty stupid, but you were delightfully proved wrong when your videos harbored over 200k-300k views on a bad day, so you found no reason to stop as COVID-19 continued, growing to gain a little over five hundred thousand followers. Your reactions were often used for TikTok audios or clips, so you found your popularity growing and evolving during that year.

You believed yourself to be a general, simple woman. People liked you because you were elegant and levelheaded, although you could sometimes be chaotic. You also had a subtle sense of humor that many found charming. But mostly, you grew a steady fan base because your videos and presence comforted countless young adults and teenagers.

You were an optimist and a reassuring one, so during the times when COVID was so prominent, people sought refuge from the monstrosities of the world in your videos, where you seemed to connect with them even though you were on the other side of the screen.

However, everything changed somewhere in 2020-2021. That evening, your best friend got home from work with excitement practically oozing out of her every pore. You and your best friend were avid anime watchers and manga readers, so you couldn’t help the face you made when she told you that One Piece was getting a live-action.

Although you were skeptical, your friend practically insisted you send an audition tape. You grimaced at that. It was well-known that live anime actions were almost always corny and cringeworthy compared to the original work, and people never liked them. You had learned that much from Death Note and a couple of others. However, your best friend convinced you with this argument:

“If it’s that bad, then at least you’ll gain more followers out of the memes that people will make, and if it’s good, you’ll still get famous anyway!”

Eventually, you sent a video of you performing one of the lengthy monologues from Fleabag to your agency and simply hoped for the best. Your friend was practically rooting for you to get the role of Anastasia, one of the first integrants of the Straw Hat crew, joining before Sanji and after Usopp. You adored her as she greatly reminded you of your late mother, although you would be happy with any role.

Somewhere in November 2021, you remember a lot of screaming and crying. When you try to look back on it, all you remember is the happiness you felt when you received confirmation of the role of Anastasia. You were practically over the moon, and you and your friend celebrated inside your small apartment. You were entirely alone, just two drunk girls dancing and cheering, until one of the neighbors knocked on the ceiling with a broom.

liked by inakigo, emilyrudd and 574,949 others

yourusername actually lost for words and filled to the brim with gratitude...... i cannot express how excited i am to play my girl anastasia and bring her to life. from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported me. your faith in me means everything. congrats to iñaki, emily, jacob, mackenyu and taz, thank you to onepiecenetflix, thank you to my best friend for convincing me to audition for the role, and thank you, oda sensei, for putting anastasia's heart in my hands. love u all <3

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November 10, 2021

y/nsfanclub.02, AAAAAAAA SO EXCITED FOR THIS I ACTUALLY CANT BELIEVE IT

⤷ starl6ighwnb, LIKE FR IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE THIS IS INSANE

user8392y3r927y, HELLO YOUR GRACE ANASTASIA

inakigo, Congrats!!!!!!!!

taz_skylar, 🔥🔥🔥

The One Piece fan base dearly loved the character of Anastasia, a well-mannered, bubbly, upbeat, fashion-loving duchess who always spoke in a Transatlantic accent but also had a quick wit and a bit of a sweet tooth. Anastasia’s dream was to become the most dangerous pirate to ever grace the seas and prove everyone who doubted her wrong.

Of course, with a big character came a big responsibility.

Sometimes, insecurity nearly got the better of you. You had to fill huge shoes, and there were many people to convince and impress. However, your love for this project was bigger than the gnawing uncertainty on the back of your neck, so you continued strongly until the end of Season One, finding comfort in your cast mates and the countless people who counted on you and, most importantly, believed in you.

Oda handpicked you, and that argument alone was enough to shoot any insecurities away.

Well, needless to say, people loved you!

Critics acclaimed your portrayal of the character, as well as the commendable chemistry you shared with the rest of the cast. The fans found it incredibly funny that your character was the complete opposite of how you actually acted in real life, and you often found yourself blissfully immersed in the fan base's love and praise.

Your channel and social media suddenly grew tenfold. Although you had stopped uploading videos every week due to the recording of season one, your followers were more than happy to wait for your return, and as one would expect, they were thrilled to have you back once you did upload a vlog explaining everything.

Over the course of the six months, you had been recording from time to time for a YouTube video in the set. Previously, you had asked the producers for permission to record some behind-the-scenes for your channel and your usual interactions with the rest of the cast with your personal Sony camera, as you felt it would be a nice way to bring the fans and the cast closer.

The producers gave the okay on the condition that you would wait until the first season aired on Netflix. You happily agreed and carefully began recording some scenes of your dressers and hairdressers as they prepared you, a few shots of your instructor showing you how you were supposed to use the guns that Anastasia employed... simple things.

Back in the day, you were still getting acquainted with the other cast members, and you didn't want to seem rude by forcibly making them appear on your videos, so you waited for a few weeks until you could properly call yourself companions. Then, you invited them to appear in the videos.

Iñaki, Taz, and Jacob liked to take advantage of the little free time they had between scenes they didn't appear in to innocently steal your camera and use it to their heart's content. One day, you got home only to find the memory card was completely full. It was an extensive video of them walking around the set, with Taz recording while Kiki and Jacob pointed out random stuff to the people who lived inside your camera, as Jacob liked to call them.

Mackenyu, being more reserved and introverted, mostly liked to act as a cameraman for you as you showed the props you used and other things, often making comments or turning the camera around whenever you referred to something.

Meanwhile, Emily had a natural knack for being in front of the camera. Whenever you asked her to join in, she effortlessly slipped into the co-host role, bantering with you and adding her own insights into the behind-the-scenes world of the show.

With the first season out of the way, you took the time to carefully pick what videos you wanted to use in the final tape, and it took you a little over a month and a half to properly edit it and turn it into a wonderful thirty-minute-long behind-the-scenes. You even sent it to the producers and your co-stars in case there was a scene they wanted deleted. Fortunately, they all gave you the okay.

You teased the video a bit on your Instagram before uploading it a few days later, and the support it received was out of this world. It gained over two million views and hundreds of thousands of likes.

You were kind of expecting this. While some BTS had already been uploaded on YouTube, yours was different because you were showing it from your perspective. The fans loved every second of it, and even started asking for a second or third part. You even saw new videos on YouTube of recompilations from your video with the titles being silly things like The One Piece Cast Being Chaotic for Seven Minutes.

At that moment, your life felt so full. You were getting contacted by industries who wanted you to appear on their videos and their stages, thousands of fans who loved you, and a feeling so peculiar that this would be eternal.

liked by taz_skylar, morganlogoff and 1,523,199 others

yourusername missing my wig and my gang hours ☹️

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November 10, 2023

morganlogoff, love love love you💗💗💗

curlikaqy, NO ONE KNOWS I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

emilyrudd, GIRL I WANT TO SEE YOU COME BACK TO AMERICA

bookofjacob, missing your camera hours💔

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece la #opla #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action x you #iñaki godoy #emily rudd #jacob romero gibson #jacob romero #taz skylar #mackenyu #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #midnightbears

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