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sashi-ya · 6 months ago

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𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him. Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so. “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too. And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too. Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

#kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soushirou #hoshina soshirou x reader

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phantomsies · 4 days ago

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𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 • 𝖆.𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

your biggest fan soons becomes your biggest obsession….

black onlyfans creator!reader (fem descriptions), nerdy!armin, public sex/public masturbation, squirting, mentions of toys, exhibitionism, throatfucking, cumshot

📝: I wanted to go a completely different direction with this but a) it’s no longer kinktober and it would’ve much better suited that and b) nerd!armin just scratches an itch in my brain I can’t quite put my finger on. So enjoy! 🫶🏾 (also, I AM SO SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LONG 😭😭 I don’t intend on headcanons being this length but I can’t shut the fuck up.)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nerd!armin had been a dutiful subscriber of (y/n) (l/n)’s or as the world knew you, (performer name) for quite some time. He’d faithfully watched your content, never missing an upload to your sites and shamelessly scrolling your Twitter.

nerd!armin preferred your videos over others because they were so unique. Always willing to push the envelope by shooting in unconventional spaces; your car, public bathrooms and even dressing rooms..a polar opposite to his shy, bashful nature. In a way, he was jealous but also aroused..

from your long acrylics, fluffy lashes, colorful hair that changed from video to video and of course, the beautiful, dark brown complexion that radiated underneath the sun or ring lights, nerd!armin was obsessed.

nerd!armin would lie in bed after a long study session, classes or even a hard day at work..mindlessly stroking his cock in one hand as he held his phone in the other, eyes glued to the screen whilst you performed those lewd acts.

shoving those dildos in and out of your tight cunt, those pretty pink walls and plump brown lips sucking on that silicone toy..stretching yourself open all for his pleasure. A jeweled butt plug shoved into your ass and cream oozing down onto that gorgeous skin and the leather of your seats as you worked yourself into countless orgasms..mewling and begging for the would be viewer to keep fucking you..

“Fuck, I’m about to come, daddy..you’re gonna make me squirt.” Crying out as nerd!armin jerked himself even faster..subconsciously responding back without a single other person being in the room. ”Squirt for me, baby. Come..” Whimpering before exploding with a load of his own..

despite only being an intern, nerd!armin was well off from his freelancing tech work and although it didn’t leave him much room for socializing, he would tip you amicably on all the new content, as well as leave kind, respectful, encouraging words. It wasn’t something you saw often in this field.

it also didn’t take nerd!armin long to realize that you never featured a partner in any of your content like some girls eventually did. Only the various assortment of toys gifted to you by supporters. Which only further fed his delusions when you made a mess and glared into the camera, batting those doe brown eyes before saying “..look at what you made me do..that big dick feels so good..”

nerd!armin, who had only been with one woman sexually in his entire life and didn’t date often, could only dream of being with a girl like you.

so it came as no surprise when you announced that you would be opening a contest to film with one of your subscribers for the first time, nerd!armin leaped at the chance! The thought of getting to fuck the woman he’d hopelessly fawned over excited him.

nerd!armin nearly fainted when he got a DM on OnlyFans one day to see that he had won, asking when he’d like to arrange the meetup.

nerd!armin was understandably nervous on the day you two came face to face..but felt as ease when you continuously reassured him and even made sure that both of you had been tested, as well as protection.

“You’re so cute..it’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for supporting me..” your gentle voice sent a shockwave of butterflies soaring through nerd!armin’s stomach as you wrapped him in a tight hug…and of course, a tightening in his pants upon laying eyes on his favorite creator. But that was merely the beginning.

nerd!armin found himself blushing when you slowly traced circles all over his skin, examining the single tattoo on his forearm and complimenting the smell of his cologne as the two of you sat alone in the bedroom of the designated filming space of your spacious home. Impressed by the bookshelves full of old literature he passed on the way in.

“Mmmm..you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “…I guess you could say that.” “Well don’t be, I’m going to make sure we have a good time, I promise..”

nerd!armin had no idea just how true you were to your word when less than ten minutes after the camera came on, you were on your knees, tongue extended and a wide smile on your face as he towered over you.

nerd!armin could hardly contain himself when eventually, those glossy brims were now encompassed around his cock. Slurping noises emanating around the room, along with his adorable cries…sloppy drool and gag spit spilling from that wet mouth and onto the pulsating head, shaft and those swollen balls. Disregarding the fact that your pretty face had become a disheveled mess.

“Oh my God…that feels so good, beautiful. Your mouth feels fucking amazing..” “You wanna come for me, baby?” “..yes! Drain me, please..” pathetically pleading whilst relentlessly fucking your throat.

nerd!armin unabashedly spent days, practicing his stroke on a translucent flesh light, feeding it deep thrusts and stuffing it with an ungodly amount of cum, examining your videos like study material..in hopes of gaining some stamina against you.

but nothing could prepare nerd!armin for the sheer sensation that being inside of you brought upon him.. however, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard..especially when he’d gently tug your head down and force you to watch as he glided into that narrow hole.. a move he’d learn from his tapes.

“It’s so big..damn..” “I told you..” giggling to yourselves as your gazes met and he’d begin to move.

nerd!armin almost felt compelled to believe that you were faking your moans like other pornstars so often did…but that misconception was cleared up when your eyes began to trail back, legs began to tremble and a slight bulge formed at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Yes, you stretching the fuck out of this pussy, baby..right there!..” “Am-am I doing a good job?” “You fucking me so good, please don’t stop.”

nerd!armin nearly lost all composure when you all but pushed him away, only to shower him in a stream of your juices. Only increasing as he tapped that swollen tip against your quivering folds.

nerd!armin didn’t last more than five minutes after that powerful climax and began dry heaving as his own neared. Ushering you back to your knees to paint those pretty features and tits with his load.

nerd!armin was convinced that once the cameras shut off, you’d put him out for nutting too quickly. Surely a woman of your caliber would never deal with that again. But yet again, he was proven wrong when you smiled up at him, flicking your tongue across your lips before posing a question. “So..where should we should film next time? We gotta do this more often..”

nerd!armin had found himself the newest and sole object of (creator’s name) affection!

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butterymangowrites · 1 month ago

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dad thief

paring: dabi / todoroki touya x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, cum eating, creampie, childhood friends to enemies to whatever this is, obsessive dabi, possessive dabi, jealousy, non-con filming, blackmail, endeavor is a shitty dad but you both have daddy issues, child abuse, domestic violence, hate sex

word count: 2.5k

Even captured by one of the most dangerous villains in Japan, you still had the audacity to smirk. He wanted so much to wipe it off your face, make you sullen, make you regret. You had always been a pain in the ass, a bitch, and a dad thief.

—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

What Touya saw was you, a girl his age whom he had been friends with for a while now, wearing an Endeavor’s T-shirt two times your size. “That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked, didn’t tell him you stole it from someone, just like all the merches you had at home because you couldn’t afford to buy one. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Having a fire quirk, you related so much to the number 2 hero. Meeting Touya was the best coincidence you could ever hope for.

But Touya hated it, your quirk was powerful, not more than his, but so much more stable. At Least you didn’t get burnt every time you tried to use it. His dad looked at you like you were a gift from God, given to him to replace his own incompetent children. You had become Endeavor’s favorite in such a short time.

—

“So you’re still my dad’s simp,” the white haired villain said, looking at you from an old couch where he lay down, shirtless, his torso patched up with staples holding burnt skins to the body so they didn’t fall off. He looked like a doll that the owner didn’t want to throw away and chose to keep repairing.

“Rich coming from someone with daddy issues.” Standing at his feet, you peered down at him. He had changed a lot, appearance-wise. Half of his face was burnt and stapled just like his body. With black hair, piercings, and impassive demeanor, he became someone else entirely, fooling everyone even his own family—he became Dabi. But those eyes, those were Touya’s eyes. “That was a desperate act back there, airing the plot twist on tv and shit.”

It was amazing how quickly you got on his nerves. Dabi pounced from the couch and grabbed you by the neckline of your hero costume. You staggered forward from his pull but let him drag you to the couch and down onto him who now had his head back on the armrest. His hands adjusted your legs to straddle his waist, positioning you to his heart’s content. Your skin-tight suit was for sure fireproof; yet, you still felt heat emitted from the bare skin of Dabi’s naked torso.

Seeing him face to face this close, you couldn’t help but tease your childhood friend a tad. “Fuck, you’re ugly. No wonder your dad didn’t remember you.”

“This mouth of yours,” Dabi tsked, placing his index finger on your hot lips, “fucking needs to be shut.”

He lifted the finger from your lips to point to the opposite side of the couch where a TV should be if there was one. Instead, there was a camcorder set up on a tripod, an ominous red dot blinking rhythmically.

“It’s recording us,” Dabi said. “I’m gonna fuck you on it.”

“Tsk, tsk. What happened to dates and dinners?”

His expression shifted dangerously. And you yelped, loud, when he suddenly snaked his hand around to unzip your suit from the back.

“Touya, knock it off!” You swatted his hand. But too late, you already felt the suit loosen.

“As I was saying,” Dabi continued, “I’m gonna film us fuck.”

Heat crawled onto your back when he slipped his hand under the open suit and started to skim around.

“But since I’m a generous man, I’m giving you two choices.” He tapped on your back once before saying, “Be a good girl and I’m keeping the footage”—he tapped twice—“or not, and I’m sending it to Endeavor’s office so he can see his favorite intern getting dicked up, down, six ways to Sunday by his eldest son.”

His body heated up a little more; you knew it was from excitement.

“Do you think you’ll still be his favorite after that? I don’t think so if you asked me.”

You were… speechless.

“Come on, am I really ugly?” He nudged his face against yours, which was so Touya of him. “I’ve heard people say I’m still hot, baby.”

“Yeah, hot like the fire that burnt you this bad,” you countered.

He guffawed. “So, what will it be?”

You thought about burning him, burning this whole place down, but your flame was no match for his. Having experienced what he could do firsthand on the battlefield, you would not withstand his flame—you would die.

Contrary to his belief, you were not Endeavor’s favorite. That spot belonged to Shoto since the day he was born. Touya was just dumb and blinded by jealousy and prejudice to actually see it. You were nothing compared to Shoto—you and Touya were nothing compared to the half-hot half-cold prodigy. But Touya was not totally wrong, you still wanted to be his dad’s number 1, not wanting to disappoint the only man you considered a father figure.

But fuck if you didn’t hate Touya. “I’m not choosing shit.”

So he chose for you, tongue plunging down your throat while his cock drove in and out of your cunt. Standing in front of the camera, Touya stood behind you with his scarred arms around your midsection, forcing your whole body tight against him. Every short thrust made your breasts jiggle and eyes roll. The camcorder got it all—the visual, the sound. Even with Touya’s kiss shutting you up, you weren’t really silenced. And without it, you were loud.

“Fuck baby, you like it that much?”

You would have closed your mouth if your hands weren’t stuck in his suffocating embrace. “Not—that good.”

Touya chuckled. “Yeah?”

He quickened the pace, and your brain almost shut itself down.

“Stop,” you cried, legs starting to shake. That was when he really stopped. That dickhole.

“This is what bad girls get.” He said, withdrawing his cock but still not releasing you from his clasp. When he walked back to the couch, he hauled you with him like a child hauling a big bag of toys to his secret lair.

Guiding you to sit on him—again—you still faced the camcorder.

“Dad, are you watching? Look at me. Am I doing good?” One of his hands mapped a path up to fondle your tits, switching left and right to pay his utmost attention into making you squirm out of your human seat.

But he didn’t plan to let you go. His other free hand jerked his cock once, twice, before rubbing it on your still-wet pussy. No one was gonna believe you did not want this. Endeavor would not.

“Have you fucked her yet? Do you want to?” He grinned against your temple.

You swore out a soft ‘fuck’ when his cock eased its way in. It was burnt, too. Not as bad that it had to be patched up, but you could feel the bumpy texture against your moist walls.

“You know my dad is an abusive bastard, right? Fucking neglecting his own wife and children. He beat mom, too, have you heard? Did he have the guts to tell you that?” he said, tilting your head up so you could see him looking down at you. You were so hot he prayed his dad hadn’t touched you, he might never let him, too good of a pussy to share.

“He’s not a good replacement for your scumbag of a father, trust me.”

—

“I can do that, too,” you said from behind the bush you had been hiding, starling the boy you directed the sentence to. He jumped. You laughed. You had been watching him practice for almost half an hour. He looked sort of tired now.

“Look,” you said before doing the same trick you saw him do, making a flame dance on one hand and moving it to the other hand like you were juggling a ball.

He frowned, not looking very impressed, but didn’t take his eyes off you.

That was the first day you met Touya—making friends with him—and after that, coming out to meet him almost every day. Soon after, you got to meet his family. Your eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when you saw who his dad was.

The big man spared you only a glance when Touya first introduced you to him. The second glance, however, came after Touya said you had a fire quirk.

Shoto was only two at the time, too young for his dad’s intensive training.

Two years later, when Endeavor asked if you wanted to train with his youngest who had just turned four and you said yes, Touya didn’t talk to you for three days. On the fourth day, he didn’t let you in when you rang the doorbell.

“Go away, dad thief.”

But you didn’t want to. The Todoroki house was your paradise, the highlight of your day. Since Touya brought you to his home, you had been here everyday, spending your weekdays’ after-school time and whole days on weekends playing with the Todoroki siblings—Fuyumi, Natsuo and Touya himself if he wasn’t a bitch, complaining that his sister and brother hogged you all for themselves, and leaving dramatically to play alone, expecting you to follow.

He was possessive like that. One time, he locked you in a room to only play with him. Rei—his mom—had to use a spare key to unlock the room and scolded her eldest.

Now, the table had turned. Since your weekdays’ playtime had turned into training sessions, Touya was shunning you.

“Go back to your shitty father,” he said through the crack of the side door before slamming it to your face.

He played dirty mentioning your dad like that when he was the one who followed you to your ratty excuse of a home one day and saw your dad slap you on the face for no reason. It was a low blow since he was the one who interfered just before your dad used his fire quirk on you and your mother who was trying to shield you from the oncoming flame. Despite being the one who helped you that day, he used the fact that you had one of the worst dads a child could ever ask for to hurt you. You hated him so damn much for that.

“Just you wait, Touya. One day, I’ll really steal him from you,” you said to the closed door, knowing he was still behind it. Tears were flowing down your face, but it was alright because Touya would not see them—because he would not open the door for you, and you resented him for it.

How… wrong you were.

“No.”

Just when you walked back to the hand-me-down bicycle you got from the person you were most angry at at the moment—he was kind for that; you had to admit—you heard him before you heard the door open. Wiping the tears off your face, you turned to him and haughtily asked, “No what?”

Touya didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto your shirt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Touya scrunched his nose, his hair that used to be red at the ends was now full white. Then all of a sudden, he jumped you.

You shrieked. It must have been a jaw-dropping scene for a passerby if there had been one—two 12-year-old children grabbing each other’s hair on the floor, fighting with their little hands.

“Get off me!!” you screamed, but Touya who successfully got on top of you just laughed maniacally. Looking back, he sounded a bit too psychotic for a child.

He shouted into your ear, “Dad is mine! Dad is mine!”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone’s feet.

“Touya-nii! Stop!” It was Fuyumi. “Mom, help!”

The hands in your hair didn’t relent one bit despite the call for an adult who was soon surely going to rip his ears off if he didn’t get off you, but he did quiet down.

“You’re mine, too,” he said softly into the ear he was shouting into before. “Dad’s not home today. Let’s play. You and me, okay? No Fuyumi-chan and Natsuo-kun. Just you and me.”

The next thing you knew, he was pulled off you by his mother. Touya didn’t shed a tear when Rei spanked him in the ass, asking why he did that to you. She told him to apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t. But he sounded genuine enough Rei let him off with only a one-week-no-tv punishment.

—

To you, he had been… off since that day. Today, he was full-blown unhinged.

Your legs were spread wide over his own open ones, basically preventing you from trying to close them and hide your fucked pussy from the camcorder. His hands were busy, one grasping at your waist for leverage while the other circling over your clit. You were all bare to the camera with Touya’s cock ramming in and out, concentration drifting like smoke in the wind, so close to coming.

“Such a good cunt. I’ll fuck it everyday”—he panted—“come in it. You can count on me.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ll be a good boyfriend. Will never fucking stray,” he prattled on. “Won’t hit you. Won’t be like dad. You’ll see.”

You tried to hold it, but the hand on your clit just didn’t stop, pushing you to the top and making your hips buck up uncontrollably Touya had to push you down so his dick didn’t slip out. You felt the throbbing when he spilled inside. The little shit really did it—he creamed your pussy.

“Want a taste?” Touya proposed, his hands spreading and closing your pussy to see the white thick cream dripping out.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Bet you drink his cum just to please him.”

“I never fucked your dad, you villain scum.”

“Mmmm.” You turned your head just in time to see Touya licking his fingers clean. When he saw you look, the menace put his tongue out to show his own cum on it. You knew what he would do next without a word being said and tried to turn away, but Touya grabbed your cheeks, stilling you, then he squeezed to force your mouth open.

His tongue invaded, feeding you his cum, and ending with a kiss. He took his time, like he had a lot on his hands, making sure you swallowed every drop.

“Not even sucking his dick?” He continued questioning you.

“No, you sicko.” You felt your body temperature rising, quirk activating, but didn’t let the fire come out.

“Bet you thought about it, dad thief.”

“Bet YOU thought about it, obsessive patchy bitch.”

He laughed with his whole chest, shaking your whole body with it. “Guess we both ain’t shit, baby.”

#dabi x reader #touya x reader #yandere touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha touya #yandere dabi #yandere bnha #yandere mha

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dandelions-143 · 3 months ago

Text

Obsession

Minho Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Paring: Rich non-idol Minho x Dancer curvy/midsize fem!reader

Word count: 2,685 k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, you will be blocked if you don’t have an age in your bio or you’re under age. Explicit Content, Sexual Situations, Adult Themes, Substance Use, Strong Language.

Summary: Minho becomes captivated by a dancer named Y/n, feeling an intense connection and possessiveness towards her which leaves Minho coming back for more almost nightly. But is Minhos possessiveness really just that… or is it bordering an obsession.

Minho fell back on the large California king bed. His sweaty back hit the rumpled black silk sheets, causing the fabric to stick to him slightly. He watched as Jisung had a pretty redhead on all fours, taking her from behind. Minho was exhausted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He had just finished, so the exhaustion was a relief. All the tension left his body, at least for a while. He was always tense and on edge, and sex was usually the only way to relieve that tight tension.

Minho reached over to the nightstand to grab a pack of cigarettes just as Jisung finished with the girl. “Thanks, that was amazing as always.” Then Jisung fell back on the end of the bed, trying to catch his breath.

The girl got up from the bed, grabbed her clothes and money from Jisungs dresser by the door. “See you boys, same time next week,” she said matter-of-factly. Jisung smiled and nodded in approval, but Minho just stared at the ceiling, taking a long drag from his newly lit cigarette.

A silence fell over the two men before Minho began to chuckle. “You know, if we keep this up, people are going to start thinking we fuck each other as well.” This made Jisung laugh out loud, his big eyes going even rounder than usual. “It’s not like we haven’t come close before. I mean, a threesome is a threesome.” The men just chuckled at themselves.

To many, this would seem very odd: two grown men who are best friends engaging in threesomes with beautiful women and occasionally very handsome men. But to them, it was normal. They lived harsh lives despite the rich and lavish lifestyles of their parents. These moments of sexual intimacy gave them both a way to release any pent-up anger or tension. They couldn't care less how it looked to the outside world. It wasn't a secret, but they did keep it from their families, especially their fathers.

Minho began to sit up to pick up his clothes from the floor. He needed to get home and shower before meeting up with Hyunjin, who had recently been employed by his father. He felt bad for the guy; his life had been a train wreck lately, and Minho wanted to help him as best as he could. “Where are you going?” Jisung asked as Minho pulled on his black boxers.

“I have to go meet up with Hyunjin. Show him the ropes and get him settled in. You know my dad recently hired him as one of his carriers, right?” Minho said, pulling on his shirt and then his pants. Jisung, still lying on the bed, only nodded. “Yeah, let’s hope he does a good job. If he gets caught with that much dope...” Jisung didn't need to finish his sentence; they both knew what would happen. It had already happened to Chan once. Thank God his father was disgustingly rich and had his hands in the police force, or Chan would probably still be rotting in prison.

A thought crossed Minho's mind. Hyunjin didn’t have a wealthy father; he only had his friends and the money he earned himself. Minho wanted to ensure Hyunjin stayed safe. Just as Minho was putting on his shoes, his phone rang. He sighed, not in the mood to talk to anyone except Jisung. But when he saw his father’s name flash on the screen, he answered on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Mhm… well- oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m headed there now. Okay, thanks. Mm, bye.”

Minho hung up the phone and stood from the end of the bed. He turned to Jisung as he tucked in his shirt. “I hope you have a suit. Meet me here around 10 tonight. It seems a business deal we set up went through, and both our fathers were paid very handsomely for it. So they are going to treat us tonight once I’m finished with Hyunjin.”

Jisung sat up at the sound, his pretty, toothy smile showing shamelessly. “What kind of treat are we getting?” He began to get up, the silk sheets sliding off his naked body. “Not sure yet, but I’ll let you know once I find out. I gotta run. See you later.” Just as Minho was slipping out the door, he heard Jisung's phone ringing, knowing it was probably his father calling to tell him the same thing.

After hours of showing Hyunjin how Minho's father liked things done and then actually taking him on a small drug run, he was annoyed and slightly spent. He walked through his front door and there sat Jisung, man splayed on his couch in a black-on-black suit. “Oh come on... it’s not even 10 yet,” Minho groaned when he saw his best friend.

He just was not in the mood to deal with Jisung's sunny disposition. Jisung only smiled widely with a little shrug. “I had nothing else to do, so I got ready and came over to wait on you.” Minho only scoffed and headed to his master bedroom where he could shower and get ready.

After about 20 minutes, Minho emerged in a similar-looking black suit, but he was wearing a crimson red shirt under the suit jacket. It was unbuttoned quite a bit. His hair was slicked back, a few strands falling in his eyes. “Did you ever find out where we are going?” Jisung asked as he got up from the couch, straightening out his suit and running a hand through his hair.

Minho spoke as they left his home and got inside the waiting black car parked in front. “We are going to that gentleman’s club my father just opened a month ago. He said he’s got us a private room together or we can have a private room for each of us. He said to do as we pleased.” Minho had a soft smirk on his face when Jisung giddily clapped his hands, “Hell yeah, I’m so ready to have some boobs in my face.”

Minho chuckled at Jisung, “Do you even know what a gentleman’s club is?” Jisung's smile dropped a bit, “Umm, a strip club?” He spoke slowly, unsure of the answer he was giving. Minho only smiled and looked out the tinted window from his position in the back seat, “Close enough.”

It didn’t take too long to get to the gentleman’s club. The place was in a very expensive part of town, near some of the most high-end hotels and three-star Michelin restaurants. The building itself was rather large, but simple on the outside. More discreet than one would expect, but once the two men stepped inside, the simple and discreet atmosphere was completely gone.

The establishment was VIP only. You had to have a membership to even get in, and that was a lengthy process in itself. But, of course, Minho and Jisung walked right through the doors as if they owned the place. The entire club was lit up with red lights, black velvet furniture, and everything was trimmed in gold.

There was a large stage with a live band playing. Booths covered in red velvet lined the walls and other areas. Each section had a smaller stage with a singular pole in the middle. There was also a bar where people could sit and order drinks. Waitresses were running about taking orders because, of course, you could have an elegant dinner here as well.

Girls were dancing to the music in barely-there lingerie, spinning and twirling on the poles, but none of them were naked, and most looked very put together. Minho heard Jisung whistle and nudge his arm. “This place is… way different from the strung-out strippers we have enjoyed in the past.”

Just then, a petite older woman clad in a very pretty dark green cocktail dress walked up to them. Jisung was instantly enthralled with her. “Will you two follow me? Your room is ready for you.” She turned on her heel to lead them through the crowd and to the back down a dark hallway. As they came to a stop at one of the closed doors, Jisung smiled sweetly at what he assumed was the hostess, “Do you dance as well?” he asked, leaning against the door in the coolest way he could.

Minho shook his head and opened the door, causing Jisung to stumble inside the room. He let out a soft yelp before he fell completely onto the plush carpet of the room. “Damn! Why’d you have to do that! She was gorgeous.” Jisung complained as he got himself up and walked over to the black sofa, plopping down onto the cushions. “She works for your dad, she’s his secretary. I don’t think you fucking the secretary would go over well with him.”

Jisung huffed out an annoyed sigh, “And how do you even know that?” Minho simply tapped the side of his temple, “I pay attention, something you should do more of.” The men were interrupted by a light knock on the door and then two waitresses came in with food and a large bottle of their favorite drinks. Minho politely thanked them as they left. His father must have really made sure they were well taken care of.

Jisung was rattling off about having to wait too long for their private show to start when this sultry, hypnotic beat began to play. The song had a slow, seductive rhythm. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming more intimate and charged with a sense of anticipation. Jisung instantly shut up when a very beautiful woman stepped out onto the stage.

Minho's eyes were transfixed on you, your body curvy and soft, with an hourglass figure that moved gracefully to the rhythm of the music. Your skin glowed under the dim, seductive lighting, and every curve was accentuated by the delicate, barely-there lingerie you wore. Your presence exuded confidence and allure, making it impossible to look away.

He felt his heart race as his eyes locked onto yours for the first time. His breath caught in his throat, and it felt as though time had slowed down. Every detail of your appearance, from the delicate curve of your smile to the graceful way you moved, captivated him completely. A warmth spread through his chest, and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by your beauty. It was as if everything else in the room faded away, leaving only you in sharp focus.

“Holy fuck..” Minho heard his best friend exclaim beside him, “She’s gorgeous.” Now Minho was not a possessive person, especially over someone he hasn’t even met. He had only laid eyes on you but, oh man did he want to have you all to himself. He didn’t like the way Jisung was speaking about you.

Minho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes following every sensual move you made. You could feel both of the men’s eyes on you and this was nothing new to you. Working at this club and other clubs in the past, men were always around, always ogling you, always stupidly drooling over you like they had never seen a woman before.

But what made this encounter different is one of the men was watching you in a way you had never been looked at before. His eyes were extremely pretty and focused, not on your body but, your face. He kept making eye contact with you and it made you feel shy.. you never felt shy.

Minho felt Jisung tap him on the arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, do you think she would be down for more than just a dance?” Jisung was alluding to their usual threesomes they liked to partake in, but Minho was not interested in that. “I think she would be for the right price, you know?” Jisung just kept talking. Minho wanted his friend to just... shut up so he could enjoy you.

When you made eye contact with Minho once more as you dropped to your knees in a sensual move you had done many times before, he muttered, “Ji, get out.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t sound mad or angry; he just simply told Jisung to leave the room.

Jisung, of course, laughed a little as if he thought Minho was just joking. “What?”

“Leave the room, now.” Minho never took his eyes off you, even as you twirled easily around the pole. “But—” Jisung began, but Minho cut him off, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Jisung, get the fuck out.” He didn’t care where his friend went at this point. He didn’t care if he found another room, stayed at the bar in the main hall, or just simply went home, but he suddenly didn’t want anyone else’s eyes on you... especially not his best friend's.

Jisung let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as he stood up from the couch. “Fine, fine, I’m going,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He took one last glance at the stage, clearly frustrated by the abrupt interruption of their evening. With a huff, he made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy against the plush carpet. As he reached for the handle, he cast a final glance back at Minho, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity flickering in his eyes, before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him with a definitive click.

Minho leaned back, relaxing against the couch just as the first song ended. You moved like this was just another night as the next song began, but you heard the handsome man speak directly to you this time. “You don’t have to dance anymore.” It sounded so sweet... his voice was soft and calming even. Not at all what you expected to come from him.

With his angular face, his sharp pretty eyes, and pouty lips. “Come sit with me.” He wasn’t asking so... since you were being paid for this, you did as he said. As you got closer, you could see a few tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Before you could plant your curvy, thong-clad ass on the sofa, this man stands, takes off his suit jacket, and places it around your shoulders... to cover you up.

This was not normal... not for you... and not while you were working. Even though this wasn’t a place where the women got naked on stage, you never wanted to cover up. “You don’t like what you see?” you asked, trying to sound a bit playful but also trying to see exactly what this man was doing. If he wasn’t here to see your body, then why the fuck was he here?

You watched as his pouty lips quirked to the side in the most adorable little smirk. “I actually love what I see, but I can’t concentrate and talk to you when your body is just… out for me like that.” You raised a brow at him, a questioning look on your face. “You want to talk to me?” The question came out in an astonished way.

He simply nodded, “Mm, I’m Minho and you are?” he asked, holding his hand out for you to take. With his suit jacket off now, you saw more of him. His hands were slender but not overly large, and black tattoos peeked out from the sleeve of his button-up. His build, from what you could tell, was muscular but not overly so. The more you looked at him, the more truly handsome you realized he was. His eyes though... they were the best part of him. They were not small but not large. Sharp and dark, they had this sparkle about them... like a fire was lit in them. It made you self-conscious but not in a bad way.

You took his hand, finally, “I'm Y/n.” As your hand met his, a surge of electricity seemed to pass between you both. Minho felt an unexpected warmth and a sense of connection that was almost tangible. The callouses on his hand, a testament to his tough life, contrasted with the softness of your touch, creating a moment of profound intimacy. You, on the other hand, was struck by the firmness and confidence in Minho's grip, feeling a blend of curiosity and a strange comfort. You both were momentarily lost in the sensation, realizing that this simple handshake held the promise of something deeper.

Eventually, you pulled your hand away, almost too swiftly. Your eyes broke away from the intense stare he was giving you. “So...” you slid his jacket from your shoulders, exposing the lacy black lingerie once again, “What do you want? Another dance?” You leaned closer to him, trying to slip back into work mode. “Or... I can do a lot more than dance... your father said to give you whatever you wanted.” You began to slide your hand up his arm, feeling his muscles flexing beneath his deep red dress shirt.

Just as your hand began to cup his cheek, he gently grabbed your hand and placed it down on your lap. “You’re free to go,” he simply said. Minho didn’t look angry; he didn’t look upset... he was calm. You watched as the man stood, a very evident hard-on in his pants, and you could tell he was a bit embarrassed by this. The very first crack in his very cold, hard mask.

As he walked towards the door, he glanced back at you once more, gave you a little nod as if to say thank you, and then he was gone.

He took a moment to lean his shoulder up against the wall just outside the door. What the fuck… Minho thought to himself. He had never felt so many emotions all at once due to a woman. His heart was pounding, his hands were clammy, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were. It almost made him sick as to how weak in the knees this woman HE DID NOT KNOW made him feel.

Every night for the next two weeks, Minho booked all your time. You didn’t dance for anyone else or in the main hall for the crowd. You only danced in that same private room and only for Minho.

He watched you silently, with a stoic expression, his intense dark brown eyes the only sign of emotion. He never spoke to you again like he did that first night; he just watched, sipping his whiskey or bourbon. You found yourself wanting to talk to him more each time you saw him.

You were curious about this man who only wanted to look at you without touching. On this particular night, Minho seemed anxious. He wasn't exactly distracted since he kept his eyes on you, but he kept fidgeting. His hands ran through his dark hair, messing it up, and his leg bounced a little. He was drinking more than usual.

When the last song ended, you stopped him from leaving. “Minho...” you said softly from your kneeled position on the stage. He paused mid-stride, his back turned to you. He didn’t respond, but he was listening. “Are you alright?” you asked, feeling the need to check on him.

You heard him sigh softly before turning to face you. “Don’t I look alright?” he replied, his eyes pinning you down, making you feel self-conscious again. You slowly stood up, your heels softly clicking on the stage as you walked over to him. “No, you don’t. You seem anxious. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here to help.” You reached out, sliding a hand over his and up his arm.

Minho jerked away and bit down on his bottom lip. “I- I don’t like to be touched like that.” You thought it was odd, so you tilted your head in curiosity. “But then how do you love a woman or a man? You have to touch and be touched.” A soft smirk formed on Minho's lips. “If you’re talking about sex, then I don’t love or make love… I fuck. As far as domestically loving someone,” he paused, “That has never happened and will never happen.”

His last sentence seemed final, as if he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Minho turned to leave again, but you caught his hand, which he didn’t pull away from this time. “Why do you book me every night I work? Doesn’t it get boring seeing the same girl on stage every time?” You were genuinely curious, but a part of you didn’t want him to leave just yet. You liked the energetic, charged feeling he gave you. There was a static in the air between you two, and you looked forward to it.

Minho turned around, taking a stride closer to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat. Leaning in, his lips almost touching yours, he whispered, “No one else is allowed to see you but me. You’re my dancer.” His voice in your ear did interesting things to you, curving your back and parting your lips. As he pulled back, your eyes met his, holding that stare.

Then you said the words you never said to any client, “Let me touch you.” You never made sexual advances like this, always making sure clients knew you weren’t offering sex for money. But with Minho, you wanted to see what his body could do to you. You wanted to be the one he allowed to touch him.

Your eyes dipped to his lips as his tongue licked over his bottom lip. For a moment, you thought he would refuse, but then he said, “Sit.” He pointed to the couch. You didn’t hesitate and sat down on the plush couch. Minho gently pushed your shoulders back so you were leaning completely against the back of the couch.

You watched this beautiful man, who probably never knelt for anyone, sink to his knees in front of you. He began taking off your heels, dropping them to the side. Then his warm hands slid up your calves, over your knees, to your thighs. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and the anticipation made your chest rise and fall dramatically. Minho's eyes were focused on one spot directly between your thighs as he spread your legs apart.

“I said I wanted to touch you..” Your voice was timid and soft. His touch made it hard to think. Those eyes shot up to yours, piercing deeply, “I don’t like to be touched, but I will gladly touch you.” And just like that, you were his, at least in that moment.

Minho's hands slid up to your hips, gripping them firmly and yanking you towards him, causing your ass to rest on the edge of the cushions. He hooked a finger in the gusset of your lacy, light blue, slightly transparent bodysuit, pulling it aside to expose your very wet pussy. You swore you heard a soft rumble deep within his chest as he looked at you, vulnerable and ready for him.

Minho wasted no time, leaning closer and biting at the inside of your thighs, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. His teeth on you were unexpected but felt amazing. Then his soft, wet tongue was on you, slowly licking between your wet folds. Minho stayed silent, but his face said volumes. His eyes locked on your face, filled with lust. His hands massaged and kneaded your thighs as he licked slowly over your entire pussy.

When your legs began to tremble from the intense pleasure, he finally latched his lips onto your clit, sucking gently. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan loudly. Minho's eyes never left yours, and the connection felt electric and undeniable.

“Fuck!” you mumbled, lifting your hips and tangling your hands in his hair, tugging as his suction became more intense. His hands moved from your thighs to your ass, lifting you just enough to grab handfuls of your flesh.

“Minho.. Minho.. don’t stop.” You chanted, soft sighs and whimpers escaping constantly. The moment you began chanting his name, he seemed charged with even more need to please you. He pressed his tongue in and out of your needy hole, his entire face pressed into your pussy, his nose sliding up and down your swollen clit.

Minho wasn't afraid to get all your juices on him, loving your smell and taste. His cock grew extremely hard in his pants. It was uncomfortable, but he endured just to see you laid out like this, a dinner only for him.

As your orgasm built, your body reacted uncontrollably, your back arching, hips grinding against Minho's eager mouth. The tension coiled tightly in your lower abdomen, ready to snap. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Minho's fingers joined in, sliding two digits into you, curling them perfectly to hit that sweet spot inside you.

With a final, desperate cry of his name, your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body. Minho didn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your climax, drawing out every last tremor. As you came down from the high, Minho moved back, his handsome face shining slightly with your juices.

He simply licked his lips then sucked the rest of you off his fingers. You watched him put your clothing back in place and then slowly stand. You saw the imprint of his cock in his pants, and you genuinely wanted to give back what he just did for you. You moved to kneel in front of him.

Minho watched you, his hands hanging loosely by his side as you ran your hand over the bulge in his pants, but when you went to unbutton his pants, his hand stopped you. He shook his head and helped you to your feet, his hand holding yours a bit longer before letting go. “You should get home soon, I will see you soon,” he muttered before leaving, his energy still filling the room after he was gone.

You were being paid a lot to give your time to Minho, but why did it feel like every moment with him was worth far more than money? The connection between you two was undeniable, leaving you wanting more and questioning what drew you so deeply to him.

Thank you all for your support! I’m writing a bit slower due to life stuff but, I will continue posting as often as I can! As always all interactions with my works are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreamy @syedazarintasnim

If you want to be tagged in only Minho gifs please specify or else you will be tagged in every members gifs! Thanks! 🙏

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

In Stitches 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

We've all agreed that The Quiet Ones, Follow You Anywhere, Hidden Treasures and this fic (maybe more) have built the deluluverse.

Summary: You find your work hindered by your client's son.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had to do it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re not late, but you’re too dang close! You pride yourself on being at least fifteen minutes early wherever you go. Being self-employed, you make a point of always being on time. And you are but that long hand is a bit too close to the tick mark.

It doesn’t help that Mrs. Odinson is one of your best and favourite customers. You hate to let her down. You shake off that rattly feeling as you pull up to the gate and glance at the time again. Still a couple minutes to spare.

You buzz in with the button and wave at the camera. You’re never quite sure who’s at the other end but they always just let you through. You suspect it’s standard business and all the help know every face that comes and goes.

You roll through and steer around towards the vehicles along the east side of the curved driveway. You’ve never seen the sleek silver car you pull in next to but you know Mrs. Odinson’s pear-coloured porshe and Mr. Odinson’s slate grey beemer. They must have company. You can’t remember if she said there was a special occasion.

You slide into the space and grab your bag from in front of the passenger’s seat. You push open the door and gasp as the seat belt keeps you from climbing out. How forgetful! You unbuckle and untangle yourself, stepping out in your heeled oxfords and cigarette pants.

Your reflection looks back at you from the sleek polish of the unfamiliar silver car. You smile and shut your door, locking it with a chirp from your key fob. You tuck the key ring into your blazer pocket and bounce up towards the front door. You climb the stone stairs, broad and trimmed with curled railings. You stop at the top and clang the large knocker, a raven’s head with a ring in its beak.

A man in a dark suit answers the door. You’ve seen him before with his steely hair and sleepy eyes. He’s often the one who opens the door but he says nothing and shows you to Mrs. Odinson’s salon, as she calls it.

As the man leaves you just outside, you peek in through the open doorway. You see your client before the standing mirror in the corner, swirling as she checks her reflection. You cough and give a gentle knock on the door frame.

“Ah,” she spins to you with her pretty smile, “just in time, darling.” She struts over breezily, “the hem has come undone on this.” She smooths her elegant hands over her bodice, “so much for designer, eh.”

“Oh, my,” you give her a look up and down, “shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Thank you, darling,” she trills and strolls back to the mirror. You follow her and pull up the stool you often use for such a fix. You have a routine between you, you know what she expects and you do it.

You sit and open your bag. You pull out your needle and stir through your spindles to find a matching thread. As you thread the eye, she continues to preen in the mirror.

“Something special going on?” You ask in your usual small talk.

“Didn’t I mention? My son’s come home at last.”

“Your son?” You look up as her curiously.

“Oh, not Thor,” she laughs, “no, no, he’s always about, isn’t he?” She tugs on a blonde wave, trying to make is stay in place, “my other son. Loki. Finally decided to move back home. Not here, certainly, but close by. Near to his mother.”

“Mm, that’s exciting,” you comment as you grab the hem and work around her movement.

“Isn’t it? We’re having a little luncheon. At the tea room, I feel a public place will deter an outbursts,” she pouts at herself, “you know how family can be.”

“Erm, sure,” you agree dulcetly as you tie off the thread, “all done.”

She swirls, her skirt nearly hitting your face. You lean back on the stool and wiggle your nose. She admires herself. She is beautiful. Her age takes nothing away from her natural grace. You could only dream of having a similar bearing; you’re a bit too short, a bit too clumsy.

“Mother,” a voice drawls from the hallway. You glance over as you wrap up the thread around the spindle, “we’re due to be off.”

You don’t know that timbre. It isn’t Thor’s rumbling baritone, rather something smoother, something refined. You tuck away the thread as a slender but tall man appears in the doorway. He tugs at the cuff of his jacket as he furrows his nose.

“Ready, just needed a touch up,” she faces him, “darling, I’ve a rack for you to take. Wouldn’t want you to make the trip just for a loose hem.”

She points to several garment bags hung from a rack against the wall. You stand as her son’s green eyes find his mother then drift over to you. His sharp features turn imperious.

“Must you trouble so,” she swats at him as a loose thread dangles from his cuff.

“Wasn’t me, mother, I only just purchased the piece,” he counters, “quality, these days.”

“Darling, come, you’ve some scissors,” she beckons you forth with a flutter of fingers.

You reach into your bag and take the silver scissors from their sheath. You approach them with a smile as the man stares at you, eyes narrowing. He’s much unlike his brother. Much calmer.

“May I?” You ask and Mrs. Odinson forces his arm towards you.

He hums but offers no protest. Your fingertips brush his shirt sleeve as you roll back his jacket cuff and snip the offended thread. You feel the seam with your thumb.

“Should do for the day,” you advise, “but it’ll come loose eventually. I could do a quick sew-off...”

“We’re already late,” he declares and rescinds his arm. “Mother.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she pats his chest gently, “go on then, get yourself off. Your father and I will catch up. Oh, are you taking Thor with you?”

“I believe he is capable of tending to himself--”

“Yes, but... he does enjoy indulgence,” Mrs. Odinson girds.

“He is an adult and it isn’t yet noon,” Loki reprimands, “I shall drive on my own, then.”

“You always do as you wish, don’t you, Loki?” She rebukes playfully.

He grumbles again and his eyes flit toward you one last time, “you might have the tailor see my brother. Perhaps she could sew his lips shut so we might have a peaceful lunch.”

Your cheeks bulb a bit larger at his joke. You can't entirely disagree.

“Eh, don’t begin,” Mrs. Odinson giggles as she snaps shut a compact and shoves it in a clutch, “you’ve only just returned.”

“Mm, yet it feels I never left at all,” he frowns, still watching you.

You chalk it up to curiousity, perhaps he feels it improper to ask, you do feel it a bit much to introduce yourself without prompting. The Odinson household always holds an air of formality you can never quite riddle out. You keep a smile on your face as his cheeks dimple and he tilts his head.

“Right then,” he straightens his posture and tugs his jacket straight, “suppose I should go and hold our reservation before they think to give it away.”

He inhales and pivots away, striding off with long, stiff steps. You watch after him before you turn back to the room. You go to slip your scissors back into their sheath and drop them into your bag before lifting it. Mrs. Odinson holds a cape and a jacket before her.

“Which do you think it better?” She asks as you cross to the rack to gather the waiting hangers.

“I think the cape would be better, it is rather warm. It shouldn’t rain I think,” you proffer, “is this the hounds tooth?” You peek through the opening of one of the garment bags.

“Yes, dear, it is so lovely and yet that dang clasp is giving me such trouble,” she sounds ready to swoon at the tragedy, “might you replace it? Perhaps a button might do instead?”

“I’ll have a look,” you fold the bags over your arm and hike up your bag, “I’ll be off then. Hope you have a good lunch.”

“Thank you. Don’t you work too hard, dearie,” she trills after you, “much too nice a day to be pent up.”

You sweep off with your armful. The dresses are heavier than one might expect. You find it surprising how fabric can add up. You go downstairs and once more find that stoic man in his dark suit. He opens the door for you and you thank him brightly.

You amble down the steps, looking around your load to keep from stepping on the treacherously low edges of the bags. You would hate to trod on one of Mrs. Odinson’s dresses. You’re so distracted with your efforts to keep from mussing up the hems that a honk has you jumping in your boots.

You yipe as you turn to face the silver car, its bumper stopping just short of you as the headlights flash. Your lips make an O and you quickly scurry out of the way. You dip your head down guiltily. You should’ve been paying attention.

The car door opens on the other side as you approach your own. You peer over with a sheepish look, “I’m sorry--”

“You should be careful. I could’ve hit you,” Loki says, more accusatory than concerned.

You smile, “I know, I’m sorry. I was distracted--”

“Certainly, you were,” he affirms, as if telling you exactly how the world works, “and what would I do should you be caught under my tires? Can you patch yourself up so easily as a stray cuff?”

“No, sir, I’m sorry. Again, I wasn’t meaning to get in the way--”

“You don’t look very sorry. Not so many people smile in the face of mortal injury.”

Your cheeks wobble but you keep your smile. You can’t help it. When you’re happy or nervous or even confused, you just tend to smile through it. A smile makes everything a little better.

“I’m not smiling at that--”

“Then what are you smiling at?” He hisses harshly.

You bat your lashes and look side to side, “you.”

“Me?” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you being smart?”

You shake your head and your lips twitch, “smart? No, sir, I’m only... I suppose I just smile at everyone.”

“So you would,” he mutters and angles back to his car, “be sure to stand back then. Wouldn’t want to run over your toes.”

He drops into the car seat and slams the door. You stand back and watch him buckle in. He takes his time, adjusting his mirror, then his long fingers tap his shifter before he cranks it into reverse. He swerves around and hug the pile of clothes.

You don’t blame him for being agitated, you’ve had a few close calls yourself. Accidents are never fun. His adrenaline was just going and at least he cared enough to be upset. It’s a good reminder to be more aware.

🪡

The fabric store isn’t very busy. The higher-end boutiques never are. You don’t often come to them yourself but you desperately need a yard to match Mrs. Odinson’s crushed velvet jackets. You need to replace a full panel and you can’t compromise; she’ll notice. She has a good eye. She never seems to miss.

Time is hardly on your time. You agreed to drop off the lot the next day. She has a gala and needs that one dress in particular. You know she’ll expect the rest.

You walk around with a swatch in hand, comparing the hue and feel. You don’t want the new material to contrast. You can’t forget the thread; you don’t have quiet that shade of magenta.

You stand amid the velvets, flipping over the large rolls, tugging the end, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. Your advance is patient even as your inner expediency nips away at you. As you come to the end of an aisle, you stop short as you look up. There’s a shadow there, waiting.

You stand still, waiting for them to come down that aisle. You’d hate to get in their way. But they don’t and in an instant, the shadow flickers away. You hear them retreat down the next row and you curl around, seeing no more than a leather heel before the figure disappears.

How odd.

The mysterious entity doesn’t distract you for long. The pinks are close, each of them seems just a shade off of what you’re looking for. You sigh and breathe out between your lip, rolling your tongue around the tip of a needle that isn’t there. A habit.

You lug out each roll and carry them down to the front counter. You lift each up as a woman greets you from the other side. You smile and clear your throat.

“You don’t happen to have any in the back,” you wonder, “I’m looking for something in between.”

You show her the square of crushed velvet and she sucks her teeth, “not quite, I think. I think we’ve something close in our catalogue but it wouldn’t be at this location. The north end may have it but I can’t confirm.

You sniff and nod, still smiling. It isn’t her fault she doesn’t have it. You remember the days you worked in a fabric shop, though it wasn’t as nice as this one. You thank her and take the rolls off the counter.

“I’ll just put these back then. I need thread anyhow,” you announce.

“Wonderful, you just let me know if you need anything, hon,” she beams at you.

You nod and turn back. You take the rolls back and set them away how you found them. When you spin, you feel something shift, as if there’s a breeze in this stagnant shop. You peer around. It’s strange, it’s as if you’re being followed but you haven’t seen a single other customer in the shop.

You tilt your head and cluck your tongue as you carry on to the racks of thread near the counter. You dive into the search for the perfect thickness and colour. It’s a much more fruitful hunt. As you pluck out the very strands you need, you hear the door. Your head pops up and you glance behind you curiously. You don’t see much of the other person as they leave the store, you never even saw them pass.

You shrug and take the spool to the counter, “thanks again,” you say to the associate, “better get out of here before temptation gets the best of me.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #in stitches #mcu #marvel #avengers

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years ago

Text

Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x you #javi peña x reader #Javi Peña x fem!reader #Javi Peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #narcos fanfiction #queue

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planet-crait · 16 days ago

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Yeah, canon Peri and fanon Peri are more or less two completely separate characters. It's a real bummer because the concept of a godparent (particularly someone as famous as Peri) failing to empathize, support, or even get along with their godkid is really fascinating (and tragic) and I would have loved to see more fanworks exploring that.

Yes the fanon version of Peri that starts to connect with Dev too late and is desperately trying to fix things and get his first godkid back is a very fun concept. But we already kind of got that with Juandissimo and Remy. I feel like exploring the canon Peri and Dev combo would be a very unique concept to explore that we didn’t get in the canon show ever.

In the Og show we saw godparents and god kids tended to care about each other and bonded overall okay even if the bond between Cosmo Wanda and Timmy was considered different and weird, the concept of godparents and godkids bonding on some level wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Here however, we see a pair that isn’t bonding. They can’t seem to form a connection despite it seemingly being that Dev was eager to make a connection with Peri while Peri seemed disinterested in forming that bond and only saw Dev as a job nothing more.

Exploring the idea that Peri as an almost celebrity godkid feeling the pressure of the spotlight to be perfect so he keeps his first godkid at arms length despite him desperately needing to be close with some sort of adult figure and it causing a massive rift between them is fascinating.

Peri clearly is struggling with empathizing and connecting with his godkids, part of it seems to be he’s so focused on his “work” he can’t see that what for him is just work is an escape and chance at happiness of some kids. But another aspect that I also haven’t seen explored is the concept that I don’t think Peri can comprehend actually wanting and desperately seeking out a parent’s time and attention. From Peri’s perspective, he feels suffocated by his parents, he turned off his wands tracking because, as he put it, his parents are too clingy. They suffocate him with love and affection, so the concept of a parent being emotionally distant and neglectful is a foreign concept to him.

So I could see when they first met and after the camera fades to black Dev might get a little clingy, he’s lost his first and best friend and is starting on the path to realizing his dad will never love him and thus latches onto what feels like a gift from the universe itself to make things easier and that potentially sets off Peri and he pushes Dev away. It’s easy to see why both would react the way they do, while it also being the worst thing they both could do on a first impression. Obviously we don’t know if things went down this way, I’m just throwing out ideas based on what we see as their first meeting and when we see them next together.

Something went very wrong and based on these two characters I can see Dev initially coming off to “clingy” for Peri and making him panic and think of his parents too much and kind of trying to push him away causing Dev to completely shut down emotionally from being “rejected” once again in a very vulnerable moment. Either way things go from an exciting and hopeful meeting to a very tense and unhappy relationship.

Peri seems content to ditch Dev every chance he gets and is very inattentive to him and his needs and Dev has accepted Peri won’t be their for him when he needs it which unfortunately likely reminds him too much of his dad. I’ve said it a few times but I’ll say it again, I can see some similarities in Peri and Dale in both are very obsessed with their work and both think material things can make things better when they can’t always fix things. It further adds to the tragedy of them being paired as Godparent and Godkid and how ill suited they are for one another.

For a kid like Chester for example whose emotional needs are being well met overall and more has material needs that need to be met like having some food insecurity, a godparent like Peri would work just fine. He’s happy to grant wishes and a kid like Chester might just ask for material things to fill in what he’s missing to live comfortably.

For a kid like Dev though who can already get whatever he wants whenever he wants, he needs a pair more like Coswan who can connect and give love to a kid who is alone and hurting. It’s not the wish granting Dev needed or I think was even excited about, he just needed someone to care and not ditch him the second things got a little difficult with him.

The concept of a godparent terrible at empathizing and connecting with a kid whose only real need is a real connection is a very painful and interesting concept to explore, but Peri is kind of becoming the Tumblr sexy man and people aren’t necessarily interested in exploring him being wrong about something.

And thing that also makes this a fascinating dynamic to explore is this isn’t just Peri’s fault, he’s clearly being taught that rapid fire wish granting is how to be a good godparent, and thought if he just pushed for wishes and granted them enough it would somehow help Dev. Exploring how the fairy system isn’t properly set up to help kids like Dev who are deeply hurting and need companionship more then anything else adds a layer of pain and complexity to the entire situation which I think could be really fun (and tragic) to explore.

How we even got here is an interesting concept because we know the fairy council knows Timmy cared far more about the companionship from Cosmo and Wanda then the wish aspect, but somehow despite this they’ve seemingly moved away from connections and companionship and pushing wish granting solely which wouldn’t necessarily be what a lot of kids need.

I think I accidentally talked my way into a small fic idea. Dang it.

#fop #fop a new wish #fairly oddparents #fairly odd parents a new wish #dev dimmadome #fop dev

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bigtreefest · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: Cooks in the Kitchen

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Everyone hates a backseat driver. And a surprise guest when you’re not at your best.

Word count: 3,234

Content/warnings: TW: dead body and all you would expect in forensic science, I tried to make this not graphic, mentions of bruising, mentions of torture and abuse, sassy and borderline mean reader, awkward Steve who overthinks, reluctant? flirting, allusions to and mentions of murder

Author’s Note: For my dearly beloved @krirebr please know that you’re loved and appreciated by us all. I hope this helps, just a little bit. (Extra angsty, hopefully to your tastes)😘

What I’m gonna say is Decks seems very on edge compared to how she was before. Her guard came up out of ‘nowhere?’ Hm, that’s weird… or is it?

Anyway, these are Loupe glasses, if you’re wondering. They let you see tiny things up close and at a better angle.

Comments, reblogs, asks, and any feedback is so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

After your weekend at the farm, Steve drove you home to return to your normal life. As much as you loved being out in the country, city life was definitely more your speed. You immediately went back to work and were happy to keep your busy routine going. Sure, a weekend away from screens and solvents was a breath of fresh air, but this was where you thrived.

Despite the way there were new, more outlandish cases to deal with, the days were surprisingly routine. Come in, visit a crime scene, run some tests, go home, do it again. You lived for that sort of zen. The detachment of simply putting your head down and getting to work was what you were used to, and then once you were home, it was like a sanctuary. You could lounge, pick up another hobby out of the thousand you’d already started, and crawl into your fresh sheets.

It’s not like you were entirely a hermit, though. You got along with your coworkers and would commonly joke around with them, but first and foremost, you were a proper worker, doing your job. When something really needed done, you’d lock down in the lab, music blasting, and crank out results.

Steve was the same way. He tried to keep his days as routine as possible, despite the way work brought something new everyday. Rival gangs needed monitored and law people needed bribed. Shipments and production needed to be kept on a tight schedule and up to pace with increasing demand.

There wasn’t much time for it, but he’d found certain images and memories start to take hold in his mind. They were different from the grade school ones of Bucky, or his times learning the ropes of his trade, or the first suit he’d ever worn. They were new, they were…warm? Lacked that same rigidity? They were of you. Driving his car effortlessly, petting a baby goat as it bleated happily, teaching him to dance…small, little moments that he couldn’t let go of, but he didn’t have time to replay enough.

He did his best to stay proper in his business dealings. Steve was known for his gentlemanly demeanor, truly a golden boy of the underground, or…at least as much of one as an individual could be given the legality loopholes he was constantly trying to jump through.

On the outside, he was smooth as a beach. Fluid with the crashes of waves this industry threw at him. He’d gotten good at rolling with the punches without a single blond hair out of place. But inside? It was a hurricane. The wind raged and echoed in his ears, putting him on edge. It was sensory overload.

Everyday, he found his attention wanting to wander more and more to that simpler time, not romanticizing it for the lack of pressing responsibility, but for the fact he spent genuine moments with someone who was unlike those in his world. Unlike the men so obsessed with maintaining their place on top or squashing others to get there. They were all about the money, but you were working for the people, and for the betterment of the city. To solve cases and give peace to families. And Steve knew he was all too often on the other side of that, even if he prided himself on only taking out the worst of the worst. The ones who deserved it. They were the ones endangering women and children, who to him, were the distastefully vulnerable and undeserving of wrath, despite the fates they were met with from the awful men Steve rid the world of. He wasn’t breaking his set of morals and rules, he was just breaking the law sometimes. Steve was a good man, he just happened to make his living doing bad things.

He didn’t have time to reflect on that right now, though. Things had seriously picked up in recent weeks. Bucky was soon to return, but it didn’t help that Steve felt like Lloyd was unrelentingly on their asses. Leading the organization when it came to the normal stuff was fine, but the extra protections Bucky was making him run, along with the extensive research and monitoring was already taking its toll. Steve was used to a lack of sleep, he basically lived on adrenaline and black coffee, but another night where he was fielding calls and sending out directives without a wink was causing his emotional guard to fall.

It was early morning as Steve sat at his desk. He’d ordered Sam to head out hours ago, but as the sun was cresting over the horizon, not even that searing glow could keep Steve’s tired mind at bay. The levees against the flood were weakened beyond belief. The hurricane was about to make landfall.

Just then, the phone rang. It was one of his contacts down at the police station. That wasn’t new, but the specific news was and Steve wanted to be there in person to get every bit of information he could... and perhaps catch a glimpse at the one person who could scratch that new itch in his brain. Maybe, finally, at least he could catch a nap in the car, as Steve called Gio to drive him over.

Over the couple weeks you’ve been back, you couldn’t help the way your mind wandered constantly, either. Even your favorite playlist couldn’t keep you on track, so you opted for silence, the scenes replaying of your time on the farm doing plenty to help you block out your surroundings.

You were working on a particularly difficult case currently. There was no time for distractions. The overcast sky just added to the ambiance of the feeling that something unusual was looming over you. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, along with the keys from the ignition, and took a deep breath, letting it out sharply to get yourself ready. When you’d gotten out of the SUV and to the crime scene, Detective Lang greeted you.

“So I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

He guided you along the River walk and down the rocky shore where a victim laid, waves still lapping over her feet as photographers and cops gathered around the scene, surveying it for evidence. A small crowd had gathered along the pathway, held back by barricades and uniformed officers. At least you were here before the news crews.

“Bad news first, always. You know that.” You spoke with a purpose, slipping on your gloves after pushing up the sleeves of your department-issued windbreaker and cuffing your pants so they wouldn’t get wet.

“So far, looks like it was blunt force trauma with a side of torture. Very little evidence to go off of, especially considering there are no open wounds and the tools used for this kinda thing could be in any household.”

You crouched down by the body and immediately took note of the bruising. You hummed in acknowledgement and looked back up at the detective, his head framed by the cloudy, gray sky, the rising sun now hidden. Fitting for a tragedy like this. A woman your age subjected to that sort of an ending…

“And the good news?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky, hands on his hips, before he dropped his head back down towards you.

He winced. “Body’s fresh? Disposal doesn’t appear very well thought-out.”

You nodded and looked around for any piece of evidence that hadn’t washed away. He was right, it was gonna be difficult to pull many testable elements.

“Well, I’ll do the usual work-up, then, and let you know when you’re good to get everything over to the medical examiner.”

He curtly nodded and turned on his heel to speak with the witnesses before you began to pull out your kit, swabbing for anything of note.

After you finished collecting everything you could, you carefully slipped back through the background and away from the slew of reporters now blanketing the scene. Ugh, you hated those block heads. Especially Lucas Bell, the weird little ray of sunshine you went to school with growing up. For some reason, he thought the two of you were actually friends, despite never having even given him the signal you appreciated his presence. The worst part: you could tell he wasn’t hitting on you. He would genuinely seek you out at crime scenes, that gross happy smile on his face, calling you by the birth name almost no one used anymore in favor of your college nickname. Every time, it was, “hey, remember me, old pal? Great to see you! Any information you’re willing to share?” Who the hell was so chipper when their job was literally to report tragedies?

You bobbled your head as you mocked him to yourself and got back into your work SUV. Ugh, you hated that guy. And all the other reporters. You didn’t wanna be on camera. What if you wanted to work for the FBI one day? Huh? What then? Can’t have your face out there all willy nilly and then expect to be doing covert ops. Nope. You prepared to race back to the precinct, ready to drown yourself in an afternoon of attempting to suck evidence out of a cotton swab caked in river grime and essentially, air, if you could count that as evidence.

You drove back through the pouring rain. Another thing to be annoyed by. First, the longing for your simple weekend once again, then the intrusive thoughts about annoying little reporters, and now, the near-flooding on the roads. You could hear her in your head now, Bee saying “rain makes corn. It’s a good thing.” You rolled your eyes, to be honest, you liked the rainy atmosphere, but you know what rain also makes? Bad drivers. At this point, it was just best to get back to the lab, buckle down, and stay there, where no one could possibly bother you.

You were hours in to your intensive testing. Your spectrometry readings gave the smallest peaks, hard to say if the readings actually were something or just background noise. You were happy to put in the time, but something just felt…off. It was infuriating and not helping your mood, but you tried your best to keep it separated from work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best. Another small thing going wrong could push you over the edge, though.

You opted to just look at a small fabric sample, deciphering if there truly was some thread of note caught in the weave. You just needed to concentrate and you knew you could find something. You were purely focused and zoomed in, using your Loupe glasses, paired with several lamps overhead, with the highest hopes of even a shred of confirma-

“Decks? More like Specks.”

The sudden voice that echoed through the lab startled you, causing your head to shoot up and bump against one of the metal lamps.

“Ow!” At that same time, the forceps and piece of fabric flew out of your hands and onto the floor. It didn’t help that you knocked into your instrument tray on the way, sending all those onto the floor, as well.

Great, now you had to go to the stock room to find a new package of sterile ones. This was the last set left in the lab. You looked up from where you watched the evidence fall, rubbing your forehead with the back of your gloved hand, eyes narrow at the business man in a suit who was previously leaned against your doorway, now tentatively walking towards you to crouch on the ground.

“Steve, what the hell?” You trailed off for a second. “You and Bee really do have the same sense of humor. I thought she just told me that as a selling point.” It came out as an irritated growl. You rolled your eyes as you squatted down to start cleaning your mess.

Steve laughed. Selling point? Bee talked to you about him? And tried to make him appealing? He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a certain warmth in his stomach at that. He pushed it down as much as he could. Either way, he truly did get along well with her.

“Well you know what they say, birds of a feather and all.” He joined you near the floor after having grabbed a glove, picking up some stray instruments and placing them back in the metal holding tray.

You muttered lowly as you finally stood up and turned away from him, after grabbing the fabric off the floor gingerly and placing it in a plastic protective case. “More like wasps of a stinger.”

Steve disposed of his gloves and looked over the results on your computer. You quickly hit the keys to lock the screen, sure to cast him a nasty glare. The last thing you needed was to get accused of leaking evidence.

What was he doing here, anyway? With those broad shoulders and that skinny waist. What did he even need shoulders that big for? How did he even shop for clothes? You swear his waist was literally the same circumference as your thigh. They don’t carry stuff like that in department stores.

Steve looked at you with a confused glance as you removed your gloves and washed your hands. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but it was mostly filled with caution at your attitude.

“Um, I don’t really shop for clothes? I’ve got a tailor. He’s pretty good.”

After your hands were dry, you facepalmed harder than ever before. You couldn’t believe you said that out loud. Maybe you did need to interact with more people outside of work. You were too comfortable talking to yourself. You took a deep breath before turning around and looking at Steve again. His face now mostly held tentative kindness, and that was a nice change to the anger that was sitting in your belly all day today. You still couldn’t help what you spat back, though.

“You have a tailor? In this economy? Of course you do…rich prick.” The last part was grumbled under your breath, but Steve still caught it. Where was this hostility coming from? He thought the two of you had gotten along great before. What changed?

Steve’s hurt caused him to fire back, albeit much nicer than you had. “You’re calling me rich? Decks, I’ve seen your apartment, it’s nice. Especially for this city. Way nicer than my first place.”

First off, what was that supposed to mean? You were still suspicious about exactly what Steve and Bucky did for a living. You knew they made a lot of money. Steve wore designer suits, if he could help it, and you assumed Bucky did, as well, but what business did they have being this built?

You let go of that, though, wanting to just get back to work after the disturbance, but why had you been disturbed in the first place?

“Steven, what are you doing in my lab?”

He was taken aback. Woah, full names. He knew your full name, but didn’t dare to find out what would become of him if he used it. It didn’t seem like many did. He wanted to go about this the right way. He didn’t want abuse his delicate position as a friend of a friend when you were so close to the law…yet.

He stood upright and pressed his shoulders back. Right, he was here on business. He had to remember that. It wasn’t a personal call and he had to stay professional.

“I was actually meeting with Scott, er, Detective Lang. He called me about the new case that came in this morning.”

You nodded slowly. “You knew her?”

Why did that make you nervous? Of course Steve knew women, like, duh, but something burning rose in your chest in anticipation of his response. Why did you care? You didn’t even want him here. Right?

He shook his head lightly. “No…well, sort of? She was an employee of one of my businesses. A salon.”

One of his businesses, of course. A salon was…interesting… but you guessed not out of the question with how perfect his stupid perfect hair always was. Whatever, just because he was here for some questioning, doesn’t mean he had to pay you a visit.

“Okay…so why did you come in here?”

You looked up at him from the odds and ends you were shuffling around your work bench out of nervousness.

“I actually wanted to see you, maybe help out a little?”

You eyed him skeptically, ignoring the way your chest sent a tingle down towards your fingertips. “You know when someone offers to keep close to a case like that, it usually means they had something to do with it, right?”

Steve put his hands up in surrender. “I swear this wasn’t me. I just genuinely care for my employees. Did you check under the fingernails? Maybe there was some DNA there or something?”

Your gaze became even more burning towards him. “Yes, Steven. I checked under the nails. That’s like, the first thing you do in cases like this. But why would you know that, anyway? And how can you say you care so much about your employees if you didn’t even know the girl?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was usually much smoother than this. How did you intimidate him so much so suddenly. Oh no…Is that where the name ‘Decks’ came from? Were you gonna hit him? Deck him? Did you have a pension for beating guys up? If he made a wrong move, would you literally punch him? Give him a black eye? Sure, much worse had happened to him before, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to emotionally recover if the damage came from you.

Either way, Steve didn’t want to find out, so he continued quite cautiously and uncomfortable within your domain, lacking the confidence that came so easily to him in all his usual business dealings and the quasi-leadership role he found himself in.

“I um…I watch a lot of CSI shows?” He hoped that was believable, but he knew it came out like a squeak, almost. He may as well be a little kid losing fights in a back alley again. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back to normal. “I do care for my employees, though. And my reputation, and the ability to make sure nothing like this happens again to anyone involved with me.”

You sighed at that. You can understand the want to prevent future disasters, especially when it came to someone working so low at the bottom of the food chain for such a major company. As you slipped your Loupe glasses back on and readjusted your lamps, you gestured for Steve to take a seat in your computer chair while you moved to a stool by the lab bench.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you hang around, but don’t tell me how to do my job.”

You couldn’t help the way the corner of your lip turned up, just out of Steve’s sight, as he strutted over and plopped down into the rolly chair, watching you with a smile and his fingers laced behind his head.

Next >

Bonus A/N: I’m very excited for what’s going to grow between Steve and Decks. She’s a lil independent thing and he’s just so “idk what to do bc I’m supposed to be in control but I’m doing everything on her terms” and I love it. Lmk what you think!!!

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

#Steve rogers #Steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #Steve rogers fluff #the rainmaker #the rainmaker series #outta nowhere #outta nowhere AU #mob Steve x forensic scientist reader #mob! Steve x forensic scientist! reader #mob! Steve #mafia! Steve #mafia Steve #the rainmaker chapter 2: cooks in the kitchen #TW: dead body

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lokidjarin-7567 · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober Day 6: One Night Stand

Nanami Kento x you

Contents: fem!reader x Nanami (JJK), honestly not very kinky and I actually hate this and it’s barely edited but here it is

W/C: 3k

So I think this is overthought and overworked and mostly just nonsense but I love this man and my brain ran away with me, I’ll make it up with filth soon don’t worry <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

You couldn’t place your finger on why, but the moment you laid your eyes on the man at the bar, you were drawn to him.

He had a certain presence around him, commanding. He was attractive, obviously, with neat, parted blonde hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He was tall too, and well built - a fact you could ascertain even though he was wearing a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit. Honestly, everything about him seemed perfect to the point of obsession - his tie knotted impeccably, the pin exactly straight and his shirt tucked neatly, even though it was long after the usual 9-5 hours.

But he looked tired. Drooping eyes with dark bags under them, and he hadn’t lifted his gaze from the glass of bourbon nestled in his hand except to ask the bartender for a refill. He seemed powerful and stoic, and he looked very much like you wanted to be alone. But just in case he didn’t, maybe you should give him an option…

You finished your drink, grabbing your things from the small corner booth to perch at the bar. You were only a few stools away now, but you were too nervous to speak to him directly, opting instead to order a drink from the bartender. The same as always: a martini, gin, dry, twist. The only ‘classy’ cocktail you could stomach. He nodded at you, moving to make it, and you watched, only drawn away for a moment to check yourself in your compact. You would probably have to freshen up after this drink but your make up was still relatively intact - one of the few perks of working an office job for years.

You put your purse away, looking up to see the bartender placing down your drink… that was wrong. It had an olive. You hate olives. You glanced up, not wanting to complain, only to see that he had his back to you. And there was no way in hell you were going to try and get his attention…

“Excuse me, Sir…” you heard a smooth voice say, and saw the man beside you lift his arm to beckon the barkeep back. “She ordered a twist, not an olive.” He was blunt in the way he spoke, but not rude. Commanding and polite. And he had noticed your order, noticed you. It made you blush.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I’ll remake it right away.”

“Thank you.” He replied, smiling wordlessly at you as he continued to drink.

“Thank you,” you managed to choke out, forcing yourself to ignore the anxiety ringing in the back of your mind, “I never would’ve asked.”

“It’s not a problem.” You smiled again, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going, but to your surprise, he was the one who continued, “I’m Nanami, by the way.” You introduced yourself just as your fresh drink was served. You thanked the bartender while he apologised profusely, although you couldn’t help but notice that he was aiming most of his regrets at Nanami.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” He muttered once the barkeep had gone, his eyes never wavering from yours.

“No, it’s my first visit here. My office just moved location to a few streets down, so I figured I would test some of the bars in the area.” You paused, cautious of how fast you were talking. Relax. “Do you come here often?” He nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Depends on how late I’m working, but at least weekly.”

“What do you do?”

You hadn’t realised how close you had moved to him until your knee hit his while you were listening to him talk. You must have been leaning in subconsciously, mesmerised by him, but by the smirk on his lips halfway through his sentence, he didn’t mind.

“Sorry, I’ve been going on… I have a lot of enthusiasm for anything besides my work…”

“What’s your plan then? If you don’t enjoy your work, what are you aiming for at the end of it?” He cocked his head at the candour of your question, a more serious expression falling over his face.

“I… I want a house by the beach. A life without working hours. Or maybe just a job that… makes a difference. A real difference to real people, not just to the top 1%. I don’t really mind beyond that.” He sighed, finishing his drink quietly. You could see a lot of yourself reflected in his attitude. You wanted nothing more than to escape the routine, the boredom of it all, the constant feeling of worthlessness you were burdened with from working in finance. You just wanted something outside of that monotony. Outside of the greyscale.

He laughed humourlessly, placing his empty glass on the bar.

“Sorry, I ruined the mood.”

“No, no, I was just… well, I was just thinking about how nice that sounded.” You smiled at him, but it took a moment to realise that your hand had fallen to his thigh. You blushed, embarrassed, starting to remove it but he stopped you, his own hand falling on top of yours. Cold, but not uncomfortably so, his long fingers wrapping around your palm, thumb drawing lazy circle on your wrist.

“Did you maybe want to grab another drink at mine? It’s only a few streets away and the bar’s closing soon…”

“I’d love to.”

It had started raining, and you hadn’t brought a jacket with you. Luckily, you didn't mind the rain, a fact he seemed appalled by when you walked straight out into it without batting an eye. He didn’t have much of a choice but to follow, your hand still wrapped in his. You were both soaking by the time you reached the lobby of his apartment building, dripping in the elevator as you made your way up the many floors. You watched the number tick up hand in hand, your head rested gently on his shoulder. It would’ve been a good time to kiss him, but something stopped you. Something told you if you kissed him now, the night would end. You would fuck and fall asleep in each other’s arms and then you would never talk again. You didn’t want that. You found him fascinating, and as much as you wanted to fuck him, you weren’t ready for the night to be over.

His apartment was gorgeous - panoramic views of the city, minimal but tasteful furnishings, and a beautiful floor-to-ceiling book shelf full to the brim of classic literature. You made a beeline for it as soon as you had removed your shoes, the first time since you left the bar that you had let go of his hand, although it somehow felt colder now it was gone. You recognised a few titles, running your fingers over the spines as you read the names to yourself, marvelling at the perfectly alphabetised collection.

“I don’t know why I keep buying them - I haven’t had a chance to read them all yet. Not enough time.” He had moved beside you, arm touching yours with a warmth you hadn’t expected. He had taken off his suit jacket, his shirt almost completely dry beneath it, a welcome feeling next to your bare arms.

“I’ll help you.” You mused quietly, “We can divide and conquer.” He smiled at that warmly, his eyes seeming to brighten with it. After a blissful second, he seemed to come to his senses, tearing his eyes away from you and sighing in a way that suggested frustration with himself.

“Oh I’m sorry, you’re soaked through, let me get you a towel…” Before you could object he had rushed away, and taken his warmth with him, but he had left you smiling like a school girl.

After you had dried off just enough to not drip rainwater all over his floor, he offered you a drink. You accepted gratefully, and he motioned you to his sofa. You sat at the far end, curling your legs up so you could face him. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved. It was almost lyrical, the fluidity of his arms as he reached to grab a pair of tumblers from his cupboard, the ease with which he opened the scotch bottle, the ever so slight strain of his shirt buttons as he walked. He handed you the drink, fingers brushing slightly, and you thanked him, taking a sip and nestling it carefully in your palm. He had sat close to you, achingly close, the side of his thigh pressed tightly against your shins. It was comforting.

You couldn’t help but watch as he got comfortable in his own home, removing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves, meticulously intruding and folding his tie, placing it carefully on the table next to the cufflinks, undoing just his top shirt button, allowing you to steal a glance at his collarbone and the hollow of his neck. You wanted nothing more than to run your tongue across the pale skin there, hear his groan into your ear…

You snapped out of your daydream when he started to talk, taking a sip of scotch to wake yourself up.

“I’m glad you moved to sit at the bar tonight.” You nearly spit out your drink.

“How do you…” You hadn't seen him look up from his drink once all evening, so you weren't sure when he had time to notice you…

“I saw you come in.” You laughed in disbelief, a playful smile falling across your lips, but he looked serious. “You looked tired. Frustrated. You were squinting at your phone and nearly bumped into three people on your way to a booth.” Jesus, he really had noticed you. “And then you put your phone away, and I could see your whole body visibly relax. You were just watching people, looking at the world go by. I couldn't tell, but I thought you might've been…”

“What?” You whispered, whole body tense as you listened to him speak about you in such vivid clarity.

“Sad. You looked sad, at the lives other people seemed to have. The joy. Not jealous, just… resigned to the fact you don’t have that.” God, he was good. You chuckled without warmth, casting your eyes away from his and to your drink.

“You should be a shrink, you know…”

“No I just… I know that look.” You smiled, tucking your legs up to your chest and draping your arm across the back of the sofa. He wrapped his arm around your legs in a way that seemed instinctive, natural even, pulling you into his chest just a little bit, just enough to feel that gorgeous warmth emanating from him again. “So, what does your future look like? Away from a corporate life?” He echoed your earlier question, and you thought for a moment, gazing into his eyes, hoping for some inspiration.

“A cottage in the countryside, maybe in a historic village somewhere. A sprawling garden with runner ducks and cats and fruit trees. A vintage sewing machine and a record player and a library.” You paused, taking a sip of your drink to try and pull yourself away from your imaginary life before you got too attached. “I just want my future to be something… relaxing, and beautiful. Something or somewhere I can be content. And if I have to work, let it be somewhere I can make a difference. Even if I’m not happy, as long as I’m making a difference...” He began to run his fingers across your thigh in slow circles, his deep brown eyes scanning your face with an intensity you’d never seen before. It was… recognition. Acknowledgment.

“To being content… or making a difference.” he muttered, raising his glass to you, and you repeated the toast, lightly touching the rim to his before finishing the last of it.

You had just started to talk about something trivial when he noticed you shivering. You honestly hadn't even realised, so hypnotised by him that you didn't quite feel real, your body taking over while your mind just let itself admire him. His hand slipped over yours, a concerned look crossing his face.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine, really…”

“No, you’re shivering. Let me get you a blanket or…”

“Or…” you paused, placing down your glass and allowing your now free hand to fall to his chest, “maybe you’ll could think of a creative way to warm me up…” His whole demeanour shifted, the worry replaced with a dark expression, a smirk falling to his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” You muttered in response, stretching your leg across his laps and shifting your hips so you were straddling him, lips now only inches from his. “I heard it’s always best to take off wet clothes…” Your lack of recent flirting practice was showing, and you almost cringed at your own awful line, but the noise was stifled in your throat as he firmly pulled your lips to his. He breathed up into you, needy hands in your hair and teeth catching your lips as you smiled against him, settling your hips onto his lap. It didn't take long for his hands to fall to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there in a way that made you whine, grinding down onto him ever so slightly.

“God, been thinking about this since I saw you walk into tonight…” he breathed against your collarbone, pressing a sloppy kiss there as you tried to catch your breath. You ran your nails through his hair as he did, and his teeth caught you, biting down and sucking in a deliciously painful way that was sure to leave a mark. It made your hips buck even more, so sensitive after making yourself wait longer than you ever would have for a one night stand, and you could feel him growing hard against you now. He pulled off your soaking top, leaving you in your bra and skirt as your fingers fell to his shirt buttons, deftly undoing them and running your hands over the broad expanse of muscle there. You needed him closer, but even as you pulled his chest against you, it wasn't enough. You needed him inside you.

“You look perfect like this…” he muttered, hands falling to your hips and rocking you back and forth against his length, your core throbbing, and you were already panting with need.

“Nanami…” You could already barely speak, wound up from hours of tension and obsession, needing release, needing something to alleviate the aching that was threatening to tear through you. “I…” The words didn't come, so you moved your hands to his trousers instead, trying to undo the button there but they were shaking. He caught what you were trying to say quickly, gently moving your hands and doing it himself, pulling himself from his boxers. He was bigger than you expected, the tip pink and leaking as it bounced against his stomach. You were impatient, not wanting to undress any more, setting yourself up perfectly above him and pulling your panties to the side. Your core was soaking, so ready for him, but his hands on your hips paused you. One trailed up to your face, holding you by the chin and pulling your lips to his.

“That’s better…” he whispered before releasing you, letting your forehead fall to his before you finally sunk down onto his cock. You both groaned with the feeling, your open mouths meeting briefly as you took more of him into you. The stretch was painful, but in such a perfect way it didn’t matter, and as your lips parted, your breathing got heavy in the small space between you. Your hips met his, and you moaned, feeling so completely and perfectly full. The hands that had settled on your hips moved to your ass and began to guide you up and down, gripping tight as you slowly lifted yourself off, savouring the feeling of him dragging inside your walls. Your arms draped around his neck, pulling him closer as you rode him until you were breathless, your sweat and pants filling the air between you. You were getting close quickly, the angle he was hitting mixed with the way your sensitive clit was grinding against him with every thrust. He was marking you now, hard love bites across your chest that made you whine, the sting delicious, and your hips started to stutter.

“I… oh fuck… I’m close Nanami.” It was electric, every single time he touched you sending you to new level of pleasure and you couldn’t help but moan unabashedly.

“Mhm… I’m close too…. never wanted anything… more than this… fuck…” His ramblings against your chest was enough to send you over the edge, blinding pleasure washing over you in waves as you felt him reach his peak too, hot seed filling you as you tried to catch your breath, body falling limp against his shoulder.

You showered together. Talked some more. Had another drink. Fucked again. He ate you out until you were writhing on the bed, screaming his name. Then you fell asleep with his arm wound tightly around your waist.

You woke up before him. Quietly collected your things and slipped out.

You wanted to leave your number. You really did. But even though you’d only met him a few hours ago, you knew he was the only thing that could keep you in the city. After everything you spoke about, everything you dreamed about with him the night before, you were done with the city. You needed out. You wanted back to your old life.

You had been offered a position at your alma mater a few months back. It was dangerous to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer, so you had declined, but you knew now this way of living was much more deadly.

Maybe that was the reason you had been drawn to him. Maybe he was the push you needed to finally be who you were.

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #nanami fanfic #nanami smut #nanami kento fluff #salaryman nanami

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babybirbb · 4 months ago

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ok all ur recent suits posting has made me insane (affectionate) like i only ever casually watched an episode of the show here or there but like Harvey and Mikes whole dynamic is 👀👀👀 do you have any fic recs or anything that you particularly enjoy about them? <3

Something about these two just makes me absolutely feral, the most feral I’ve felt in a while. Idk how people can be normal about Mike and Harvey.

I think one of my favorite things about them is how they seem to be (for the most part) constantly choosing each other. From the very start, Harvey chose Mike, despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t have. That man was a goner the moment Mike stepped into the room. Throughout the entire show, Harvey chooses Mike over everyone else (literally everyone).

We won’t talk about how Mike’s character changes in the later seasons but regardless I feel like he often chooses Harvey as well. He chooses to go help Harvey instead of picking up Rachel’s phone call. He chooses to protect Harvey from going to jail by going himself. They always seem to just gravitate back towards each other. (it’s almost as if they were written for each other lol)

I think another thing I really like about them and their dynamic is the amount of potential that they have. There are so many facets and layers to their relationship that you can explore so many different parts about them, and I personally could never get tired.

Some of the sides I like exploring when it comes to engaging with fan content are the pining, taking care of each other, and the general friendship that they share. Not to mention that Mike is literally my type so of course I’m also obsessed with the puppy analogy and his general brattiness lmao.

Thank you for your ask and your patience anon, hope that my answer satisfied your wonderful request <3 Under the cut, I'll add these five fics I handpicked just for you! (decided to keep it PG13 so these are all rated teen+ on AO3 btw)

Midnight Encounter by laughter_now - hurt/comfort, Mike gets hurt and Harvey takes care of him, super domestic

in the other hours by tattooedsiren - 5+1 things, Mike can't sleep vs the one time he does fall asleep, also domestic

Lean on Me by LearnedFoot - getting together, more hurt Mike, and more caretaking Harvey

ex fide fiducia by kim47 - first kiss, very sweet

A moonlit escapade by flamyshine - obligatory s2 ep 10 fic, pre-relationship with lots of fluff and kisses, also silly goofy /pos imo

#im not usually getting spicy on here so i didn't wanna get too spicy in case it wasn't what anon was looking for #thank you for letting me indulge #i am so ill about mike and harvey tbh #god i love gay people #marvey #mike ross #harvey specter #mike x harvey #harvey x mike #suits #suits usa #suits tv #suitsposting #patrick j adams #gabriel macht #anon ask #anonymous #baby blurbbs #idk what else to tag

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radiant-reid · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas Lights

Summary: based on my favorite christmas song ever: Christmas Lights by Coldplay

Requests:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst)

Content Warning: just a lil fighting

Word Count: 1.2k

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Statistically, December is the most common month for break-ups. Whether it's the cold weather chilling everyone's feet or the stress that the looming holiday season brings, research says it's December, and Spencer's always been inclined to believe statistics.

And now his own relationship is about to be part of the statistics.

"Seriously, you always do this," Y/n complains before they're even through the door of their apartment.

It's been weeks of fighting and silent treatment, and they had to leave Rossi's early because they could not keep a happy façade on. It was supposed to be a nice night with the team, but their snide remarks at each other had started becoming noticeable.

"One drink and you become a dick." She continues, throwing her scarf and coat on the hook near the door. He follows suit before putting his keys down on the side table.

Spencer scoffs. "Making me sound like an alcoholic."

"You know that's not what I mean." She says, glaring at him. They each had something to drink, and it put them on behavior that wasn't their best. "You're just so obsessed with proving that you're smarter than everyone." He bites his tongue, knowing that facts won't help him now. Ironic since he's practically been arguing with anything everyone said all night that he deemed incorrect. "Like we don't know that."

"That can't be why you're furious with me." He refuses the claim, following her through their apartment. Both of them have always been too stubborn to stop an argument, and now it's going to ruin them.

She shakes her head, turning around to face him, but keeping some distance. "The world doesn't revolve around you, you know?" She reminds him. "And it's annoying because you just don't see it."

He laughs humorlessly. "You can't be serious." They both know she is. "This is what you've been mad about for so long?"

"No, I'm mad because when we were in Reno, you rudely corrected what I said in front of everyone and didn't bother apologizing." She informs him.

"Why wouldn't you have told me that then?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air. "You can't expect me to fix things if you don't tell me about them."

She rolls her eyes. "You don't even want to fix things, Spencer." That stung him. She never calls him by his name, not anymore. "And then times like tonight you can't ever seem to stop correcting everything I say."

"That's such a dumb thing to be mad about." He tells her. Of all the things they've said, that one crossed the line. He never did anything besides validate her feelings.

"I'm done having this argument with you." She decides, ready to walk to the bedroom.

"I'm done with more than that." Spencer declares, always having to have the last word.

She didn't do anything but let him leave. When he's like that, he's impossible to reason with, and she's too mad to consider they just broke up or that when he comes back, it will be to get his stuff and break up with her. It's hard not to angry-cry about what he said, so she gets changed out of her nice dress and into something more comfortable so she can cry on the couch.

The amount of happy movies on TV doesn't help. From romcoms where an unsuspecting couple ends up together to the staple Christmas movie, everything feels too joyful to enjoy.

Spencer walks as the sun goes down over the city, plunging it into one of the long, dark winter nights. Seeing so many happy couples and families walking around hurts when he was close to having that with Y/n, and he's terrified he won't get that with her in the future.

Spencer's eyes are clouded over with tears as he looks at the Christmas lights strung between the rows of houses, and on the front of apartment buildings. Normally, he likes the fact Christmas lights and people roaming the streets make the city feel more alive over winter.

And it's cold. Too cold for him to be walking around without the scarf he left when he stormed out, but not cold enough for there to be beautiful snow falling. Wasteful cold.

Y/n can't stay sitting on the couch for much more than half an hour, and once she sees his scarf left by the door, she's worried about him getting cold. No matter how angry she is, she'll always worry about him.

And since their apartment doesn't feel warm, she gets out from under the blanket on the couch, puts on her coat and scarf, grabs his scarf, and follows him out into the cold city.

She knows the route he would have been walking and takes the shortcut to meet him at the end of the street. But he's not on the bench across from the coffee shop they frequent, and she's concerned she doesn't know him anymore, that things had fallen apart, that they were worse than she thought... until someone taps her on the shoulder.

It's Spencer.

With his pretty button nose and perfectly parted hair but blood-shocked eyes that are still full of tears. He hands her a warm cup of coffee, and she gives him his scarf in exchange. "Hey." She says, shifting her weight on her feet.

"Hi." He replies.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" She asks, holding up her still-hot coffee.

He shrugs. "The same way you knew I'd be here: I know you." It makes her heart swell with affection, and she smiles for one of the first times that night. "I'm sorry, Y/n." He apologizes, holding the handof hers that she's not holding her coffee with. "I shouldn't have done what I did in Reno, and I've been annoying since, I know."

She shakes her head. "You're not annoying. I'm sorry for saying that. I love listening to you talk facts. I was just mad when I said that, and I really shouldn't have."

"Thank you." He says. Many times he's been told that, and it's reassuring to know she didn't mean it. "I do want to fix things. I love you more than anything, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

"We don't need that much fixing, Spence." She assures him. "I promise we're alright."

Spencer nods thankfully. "We are." He agrees, dropping her hand in favor of cupping her cheek, his fingers curling around the back of her neck. "And I love you."

"I love you, too." She mumbles before leaning up and pressing her lips to his. He kisses her back, both in sync with their lips, apologeticness, and forgiveness.

Until he pulls away with a frown, moving his hand out of her hair as he examines what's on his fingers. "Snow." He declares surprised.

"Mmm." She hums, looking around them at everyone celebrating the unexpected weather. He does the same thing, and she has to get his attention again by tugging on his scarf. "Kiss me again, please." She requests, pushing her lips forward. He chuckles before obliging the request, kissing her again and again until there wasn't any more tension between them.

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ambrosialdesire · 1 year ago

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Congrats on 30 followers! :) Since you’re requests are now officially open I have oneeee.

Canon verse yandere childhood best friend Eren :) Maybe reader starts dating someone and Eren won’t accept having the love of his life be taken away from him.

(I’m not really sure if this is how to write a request btw.)

boundless

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 eren x fem!reader word count: 2k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, one-sided pining, childhood friends, kinda angsty at first ngl, implied non-con at the end, all characters are 18+ synopsis: you start dating and it's not the man that everyone had expected, the one who's been at your side since forever. love is a powerful emotion and eren has too much of it for you to ignore. a/n: thank you sm anon and this is a perfectly fine request! depending on how descriptive a request is somewhat affects the length of the fic :) btw this is pre-rumbling and pre-marley invasion (aka when eren was pretending to be a injured soldier). really bad and unreliable synopsis but hope this is a good read!! double posting today haha (mostly because i haven't posted in a bit lol) note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

The sounds of cutlery hitting the plates and the wooden table caused your cheeks to flush more, a hand rubbing at your nape as you began to avert your gaze from the group. Wide eyes were staring at you, as if you said something that was a complete shocker. God, this had to be worse than actually fighting Titans.

"You're what!?" Sasha was the one that finally broke the silence, hands slamming on the table as she got up from her seat abruptly.

"And to who?!" Connie followed suit, slamming his hands down but instead hitting his dinner, gravy sauce going everywhere. His face cringed at the mess but he still stared at you with seeming horror.

"Guys, it's not that serious."

"Bullshit, it's not serious! You're dating—"

"—And it's not Eren?!"

Your body tensed up immediately, realizing that he was the only one that barely reacted to your confession, still focused on his dinner as his now long brown hair marred the side of his face. A part of you felt nervous not being able to really know what he was thinking, the other part of you felt worried. Jean slapped the back of both Sasha and Connie's heads, a scowl on his face.

"Knock it off you two! Of course she wouldn't date him, we're talking about Eren for God's sake."

They started bickering with each other and you tried to resolve it as always, but every single sound and word started to muddle together like his head was pushed underwater. His fist clenched around his spoon, to the point where he could feel the metal bend to the shape of his hand. You didn’t pick him. He wasn't as nearly surprised as the others, mostly because he had already seen it coming, but witnessing it come true was a pain that was utterly indescribable.

Out of everyone, they had to be some random civilian that caught your eye. Someone who doesn’t know the true horrors of the world out there, someone who never struggled the same way you and he did growing up. Maybe he'd be fine if you ended up with Armin or fuck, even Jean was a viable option but no. You went off and found yourself some guy who didn't come close to understanding you.

It didn't make sense, Eren's been with you since the two of you could walk. He was the one that saved you over and over again by those bullies that taunted you and Armin, never minding the fact that Mikasa had to save everyone at the end of it. He was your shoulder to cry on, especially after everything that happened back when everyone was still young scouts. He was the one who sacrificed everything for you. Everyone in the squadron knew that the two of you were inseparable, like two peas in a pod. No wonder everyone was surprised that you guys didn't end up together but the Paths denied him the end he sought out for years, even if he had only seen the flashing glimpses of the inescapable future.

"Er— Ere... Eren. Hey Eren!" You snapped your fingers in front of his face, his gaze latching onto yours immediately. You always had such a kind look in your eyes, he's glad that it never went away despite what you've gone through.

"Your spoon." He looked down and saw that he completely severed the metal utensil in half, the indentations of his fingers prominent in the silver handle. The others were looking at him, puzzled and confused expressions on their faces. He knew what they were thinking. Why didn't you take a chance?

There was no chance to begin with. Eren was on the losing side of the game no matter what.

"Must've forgot how to hold a spoon. Remember what happened the last time I held one like this?" He mused, placing the broken halves down on the table. The more they quietly stared at him, the more he wanted to run out of the room with his shattered heart pieces. He dismissed himself out of the mess hall, saying that he was exhausted. They knew that he wasn't but none of them mustered a word of any sorrowful condolences, his frame disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

The pitter-patter of running came up from behind him and he felt the brush of a hand against his, heart pumping back to life as he recognized the familiar texture of your skin. Eren looked beside him and saw you, smiling at him like you had no clue what was running through his mind. Breathlessly, you asked him a simple question.

"Rooftop?"

He nodded, letting you lead the way for him. Rooftop meant that you wanted to talk in the spot that you found for each other back when you two started in the Survey Corps, a flat area at the top of the building where the night sky was all that you could see. The rules were that you weren't allowed to bring anyone else up there besides each other and that you weren't allowed to go there without one another. Eren wouldn't admit it but he did sneak there every once in a while, basking in the memory of you and him being young and slightly naïve.

"You're upset." You finally stated as you settled yourself down on the floor, an old blanket covering the rough ground.

"I'm not."

"I know you are, you get all awkward about it instead of bursting out your feelings." He grimaced, was he really that predictable as a kid? Eren leaned himself back on the edge of the roof barrier, staring up at the sky.

"Are you... happy that I'm dating someone?" He could hear the hesitancy in your question, curiosity and fear intermingling. His hands clenched against the concrete, the texture scraping his skin. If he knew that this is what you wanted to talk about, he would've avoided you like the plague.

He took a slow inhale.

"What do you want to hear, the honest truth or an honest lie?" Eren heard you stand up and walk closer to him, cautious hands grabbing his and pulling him towards you.

"The truth."

You've always looked so pretty under the night sky, the way your eyes reflected the stars and the way the moon shone down on your form. He never told you because he was so scared of ruining what the two of you have. This was nothing like what he felt towards Mikasa or Armin. You were special, you were his. Now that he knew what lies beyond the future, he should've said something before. Would that have changed anything now?

"The truth is, I'm not happy. There's nothing you can say that will change my stance about it." You frowned and squeezed his hands before letting go of him, your warmth escaping him.

"Eren, you can't keep disapproving every man I'm interested in."

"Yes I can and I will. You've always had terrible taste, remember how you liked Bertolt back in training?" You gasped in horror, hitting his arm.

"Stop! I never want that to ever be brought up again and I only liked him because he helped me out that one time with the chores," There was a flush on your cheeks, embarrassed about how you once was ever interested in a traitor. "But I'm serious this time, this relationship is serious."

In all of his years of knowing you, serious was never a word that fit you. Eren rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning towards you.

"How long?"

"How long, what?"

"How long have you been seeing this guy?"

You started fidgeting your hands, your tell-tale sign that it's been a while and you're figuring out how to lie about it. You could never lie to him though, he'd always figure you out.

You finally sighed and relented, giving up on trying to say anything but the truth. "2 years."

"Fuck, so it was right under all of our noses huh?" His hand gripped against his sleeve, his voice almost shaking as he spoke. He thought that you trusted him with everything, whatever you tell him would be confidential. He would never snitch on you, he thought you knew that. Eren had to turn away from you because if he didn't, you would've witnessed the tears roll down his cheeks. He felt your hand against his back, slowly rubbing circles on his back.

He hated you. He hated the way you made him feel like a pile of mush. He hated how you pretended not to know that he loved you, not as the childhood friend but as the man who pined after you the minute he was able to comprehend what he was feeling towards you.

He hated your smile, that annoyingly beaming grin directed at him whenever and for whatever reason.

He hated your affection, how you pretended to truly care about him when you were off loving another man.

He hated your warmth, radiating like an everlasting sun and cheering everyone up as if you were a carbon copy of Historia.

With all the love he had for you, there was the same amount of hatred that came along with it.

Eren looked at you, turning his body towards yours and you looked at him. As if he was under a spell, he felt himself mouthing the words that he longed to tell you for years. Your reaction was unexpected, perhaps even completely expected. His cheek stung from your strike, your eyes big and wide as if a Titan just walked up in front of you.

"Eren, y-you don't mean that do you?" His hand rested on his cheek, his fingers digging into his skin.

"I meant every word," He uttered softly, suddenly grabbing your hands and pulling them close to his chest. "Do you feel it? I love you. I'll love you until my bones are nothing but dust, I'll love you until my lungs stop taking in air, I'll love you until the world falls apart. Please Y/N, I'm already forever yours. Will you be mine?"

There was only silence that came from you after his confession, the pounding reverb of his heart being the only thing he could hear. You pushed him away, a stunned and confused look reflecting in your moonlit eyes. He felt wounded, like you stabbed a blade even deeper into his chest.

"N-No, no. Eren, I'm already dating someone. You can't just say all of this now." Your hands gripped your uniform pants tightly, the fabric scrunching together. "You're too late."

He shakily sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. What he hated most about you was your ability to constantly deny anything that you didn't want to hear.

"I thought you might say that."

He was instantaneous, quick. You never reached the level of ability of being fast on your feet in sparring and you wouldn't ever beat him in it now. He pinned you down onto the old blanket, his hand gripping both of your wrists tightly together above your head as he rested himself in-between your legs. You fought back but he didn't budge, only pressing you harder into the ground. His other hand made quick work in removing your pants and undergarments, shoving your panties in your mouth to keep you silent. No one needs to know about the rooftop after all.

Eren's selfish, you've always known that he was. You just didn't know how deep it went, how his selfishness of what he had deemed was love for you dug in and rotted into his heart. You tried begging through the cloth, muffled and incoherent cries being the only thing that was heard. He clicked his tongue, dragging his thumb across your spit-slicked lips before giving you a light kiss on the side of your face.

"If I can't change your mind with words," Eren pulled back and drank in your partially nude body, admiring you as he watched tears form at the corners of your eyes. He placed his free hand over your mound, fingers barely inserting themselves into your folds, your body reactively shivering from his touch. "I'll fuck you over and over until you can think about nothing but me."

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dickarchivist · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!

I am obsessed with your OC Clone squad. Thanks for sharing them with us!

You said you’re taking requests so I’m sliding in with one 👀

I’m taking from the same delicious NSFW prompt list @dystopicjumpsuit used!

The prompt is “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” with Ghost. He seems so sweet and deeply caring. With his cybernetic eyes perhaps eye contact is important to him/his partner???

Do with this as you please, no pressure! 💕

Thanks @starrylothcat for the fic request!! I'm so excited to deliver, and for my sweet boy Ghost too 😭

I Will Know You Forever, Even In Darkness

Clone OC Ghost × fem!Reader (civilian mechanic) (new relationship)

Word count: 2860

🔞Minors DNI🔞

Prompt: “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.”

Summary: After a scare on a mission, your new sweetheart's in recovery at the hospital. When you're finally allowed in to see him, you make up for lost time.

Contents and Warnings: fluff and smut the ultimate combo, bit of angst at the beginning, PiV sex, mentions of eye trauma (nothing graphic), yearning good lord the yearning this man does for you. Happy ending, pinky promise.

Author Notes: This fic takes place directly after the mission that causes Ghost to lose his eyes and get his prosthetics. No actual eye trauma is described in detail, it's only stated that he lost them from acid splash, and he's given cybernetics as a replacement.

Small cameo of others in Grave Squad, the jedi of the 404th, and even smaller cameo/mention of two other sw OCs I've made over the years.

Sorry this one's so long, but also not sorry at all because I think it's really good.

When The Crypt lands in the hanger, you're absolutely thrilled. Ghost and his brothers were home at last. You set down your tools and twll your assistant you'd be back in a second, to which they roll their eyes with a smile, "Boyfriend's back huh?"

"Shush," you giggle, and start toward the ship with glee. But the closer you gwt, the more your smile fades

Wraith is out first, Specter and Banshee carrying a stretcher after him, "Careful! He's fragile, don't jostle him, I just got his vitals stable again!"

Guilt bubbles in your stomach as you hope and hope that the clone on the stretch was Phantom. You wouldn't wish for any of them to be hurt, but please. Please, anyone but--

"Ghost's gonna be fine," Phantom stretcha as he gets out of the ship, play wrestling with Wraith in a bad attempt to lighten the worried media's mood, "You saved his face, I'm sure he'll thank you for that when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up, Tommy!" Wraith spits at his brother, poking his finger hard into his chest, "Like I said, he's fragile, we can't be too cautious! I don't know the extent, he could die for all-"

"Wraith." Specter's voice cuts like a knife. He had noticed you when you'd arrived, and knew all the talk wasn't helping your anxiety.

"He's... he's not going to die, right?" There's a tremble in your voice, your hands are gripping the front of your jump suit so tight its almost hard to breathe, "He can't, he's- please..."

Phantom pushes his brothers along, the stretcher jostling just enough that Ghost's arm falls limp from it, and the cry that comes from you is mournful enough to make the hanger fall silent.

Wraith tries to comfort you, but his anxious yammering only proves to make things worse. Phantom catches your shoulders, then pulls you into a hug, "Hey, hey Mesh'la, it's fine. It's fine, Cap's been in worse spots than this. His name is Ghost, not Dead Guy, right? Afterlife can't get him, he's stuck here with us. Take a breath, okay, it'll be fine. He'll be fine."

His brothers keep you up to date while you aren't allowed in to see Ghost. He's lost both his eyes. They tell you he was heroic, only thinking about the lives of the people he was protecting during the battle. Wraith later confides in you that he believes it was his fault, that if he hadn't forgotten his helmet, Ghost wouldn't have given him his. Ghost's eyes wouldn't have been lost. You want to be angry, but you know them too well at this point.

"Rai, you didn't take his helmet off him. You didn't throw the acid. You didn't do anything malicious... Specter said you kept him alive, it was your quick actions that saved him. Stop calling yourself Ghost's attacker, he'd hate to hear that..."

Wraith nods, but doesn't say anything else, just goes back to Ghost's hospital room to do his best in helping his brother. You get the feeling that Wraith isn't going to belive it's not his fault until Ghost tells him that himself.

On the fifth day, you hear a voice you don't recognize.

"I don't care, no one is going to replace Captain Ghost." There's a few garbled words, then the voice came back, more forceful, "Ghost, not CT-1313." There's another pause before you hear a snarl, "HIS NAME IS GHOST!"

There's hushed murmers, then the voice speaks again, "Good, now that we're clear that this is a man and not a number: you'll give him new eyes. Yes, I do mean that. I do not care what it costs you, he's an irreplaceable asset to the 404th, and I will not have him decommissioned when the best course of action is to replace what he's lost."

You don't realize how close you've gotten to the door until it a little girl grabs your hand, "It's not polite to easedrop... it's fun to do though."

You'd seen her once before, Ghost called her "Vod'ika", and you aren't sure if that's her name or not. She's got her ear pressed to the door, and she giggles, "Oooh, Master Dax is angry, he's using his little voice."

"Master-" when the door opens, a yellow zebrak in jedi robes stands before you. His bright blue eyes catch you, then the little girl behind you.

His glare turns to a funny face immediately. Hands beside his head flaired out, tongue sticking out, eyes crossed. It makes you laugh for the first time in days. "Good!" The zebrak booms, holding your shoulders, "We like happy. Happy means hope, and what's wrong with a little hope right? You must be this "Cyare" Ghostie has been muttering about in his sleep, I know all his brothers, and none of them have that moniker, Athena there is "Cyar'ika", so Cyare must be you!"

You know that word, you heard it often when you were a mandalorian foundling as a child. Beloved. Your face blooms with blush, and you look down at the kid behind you, then back to the man, "uh... y-yeah, I guess so."

"Good, good good good, excellent, good!" He puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you away from the door you'd been camped in front of since Ghost was admitted, "Listen Cyare, Ghost's gonna be fine, Wraith and another clone, I don't know if you know him, Repeat, they'll be preforming Ghost's surgery. Why you ask? Because I don't trust those smug asses with my boys!" His laugh booms again, and you can't help your giggle either, "Now, Re is from my previous Padawan, now a master, so proud. Re is from Annika's battalion, the 418th, let me tell you..."

Master Dax talks your ear off for hours. But it takes your mind off of the situation, and before you know it, Specter is collecting you from the enthusiastic jedi, "Buir, shut it. C'mon, Ghost's up, he wants to see you."

You wave to Dax and Athena, thanking them for spending the day with you. As you walk the now familiar path to Ghost's room, you find that your pace moves quicker the closer you get. Specter chuckles at your side, "Just run, we told the staff to let you in."

"Thanks," you manage before sprinting away. You're running so fast the doors don't part for you at one point and you slam directly into them, eliciting uproarious laughter from a few of the clones lucky enough to see the disaster. It takes a lot of patience to slow down enough for the automatic doors, but eventually you're where you need to be.

Wraith is waiting inside Ghost's room for you. He's fidgeting more than normal, and when he sees you, his speech goes into over drive, "Okay keep in mind I'm not perfect I did my best and he's my brother so of course I did my very very best for him and Repeat was a huge help please don't be mad at-"

"Wraith," Ghost's voice sends your heartbeat further into overdrive, "Shut up before she thinks you killed me." There's humor... stars you're so happy to hear that light chuckle, "C'mere Cyare, I want the first thing I see to be you."

Before you go to his side, you stop at Wraith, kissing his cheek lightly, "Thanks for brining him back to me..."

"Y-yep." As Wraith stumbles out of the room holding his cheek, you cross to Ghost.

Your hand finds his, and immediately his head turns to you with a smile, "There she is, my heart. Rai said the bandages could come off a few hours after surgery. Told him I wanted you to be there for it, hope that's alright."

You don't say anything. You climb into the bed with him, your arms wrapping around him, tangling your legs together as best you can with the blanket over him. Ghost kisses the top of your head as you settle in, rubbing your back, "I'm alright..."

"I know."

"If I'm not handsome anymore, you can always date Phantom, he hits on you enough to where I think he might be serious." He chuckles, but when you don't, he stops. Ghost's hand finds your cheek, and brings you to look at him, even though he can't see you yet, "Hey. I'm not going anywhere, alright? I'm alive, and I want to see you... please Cyare, let me see you."

You move on him, straddling his hips, thankful for his eyes being the only injury this time. You hold his face gently, and he steals a kiss to your palm, making you blush. "Ghost..?"

"Hm?"

"It's not just your looks, you know that, right? It's you. Even if you're still blind, or your face is weird, I'd still want to be with you... Phantom's gross anyway, not made of boyfriend material like you." When he laughs this time, so do you. Hope, you think, a little hope is good.

Careful, so much so you're holding your breath, you begin to take off Ghost's bandages. His eyes are closed underneath, and you cover your mouth for a moment. It's like a mask of scars tissue, still gently pink from the acid. When he flutters his eyes open, white irises meet yours, and you can help but cry. Tears stream down your face, and Ghost looks almost dejected before you croak, "You're okay..."

Ghost lets out a breath of relief, his new eyes focusing on you, "I was hoping to see you smile, but I'll take happy tears too. They are happy, right?"

"Yes!" You burst, bouncing in his lap a little with the laugh, reaching for him again as you go to kiss him.

Ghost gives an appreciative "mmm~" as your lips find his. He puts his hands on your hips, one leaving its post rather quickly and rubbing across the small of your back and side. He's surprised when you deepen the kiss, and you feel his length move under you as your tongue slides over his. He chuckles when you part, and looks up at you with new eyes, "Careful there Cyare, I'm getting excited."

"Is... is that a bad thing?" You bite your bottom lip a little and deliberately roll your hips on him this time, "I... I missed you, and these last few days, I couldn't stop thinking about... a-about how I don't want to be without you."

Ghost throbs against you, but you get the feeling it wasn't because of your movements on him, rather your words. You keep rolling your hips on him, wanting to feel him yourself, "For a moment I thought you were gone, and I realized I didn't get to tell you how I feel-"

"Stop," he holds you still, his hands finding yours, "Don't say it. N-not unless you mean it, got that? Don't say it because you feel like you have to."

You recognize the look of fear in his eyes, of rejection, pain from a love once spurned. You're not each others firsts, but you do know one thing, you want him to be your last firsts. You put your hands on Ghost's and guide them to your heart. It beats fast against his palms, much as his does on yours when you reach out to him. You mirror each other's moves, one hand each going to hold your cheeks. His thumb rubs your cheekbone, eyes locked with yours, "Cyare..."

"Kar'taylir darasuum." The mandalorians who found you, became your family, they had taught you this phrase when you left them. With how Ghost's eyes soften at you, you know he understands them too. You repeat them to him all the same, beginning to rock on him again, "I will know you forever, Ghost."

Ghost repeats them back to you, his hand guiding your face to his for another kiss. It's slow and lingering, when you pull back, he's smiling so warmly, lips gently parted with soft breath, "I will know you forever, even in darkness."

Ghost's eyes roam down between you, and blush finally shows on his face, "Cyare, if we don't do something about these clothes, I might throw a fit."

You're both giggling as you fumble with your clothes. Soft stolen kisses, small gasps of appreciation, little stories of "What's this scar from?" And kissed freckles. When you're standing beside Ghost's hospital bed fully bare to him, he looks at you with so much adoration. His hand reaches for yours, and you're guided back to his lap. He's bigger than you thought, his length hard in your hand. "Wow..."

"I could say the same," Ghost chuckles and puts his hands on your hips, eyes on your slick folds before slowly working up to your eyes again, "Never seen such a beautiful body before."

You bite your lip as you move against him, running his length through your folds to slick him. The groan he makes joins yours as you toy his tip against your clit. Ghost smiles up at you, hands holding your breasts, circling your nipples with his thumbs, "Stars you feel great already... Cyare, mmm~"

Your eyes flutter closed as you take him into your waiting walls, "Ghost..."

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby," when he speaks, it's so soft, so breathy and light, you're not sure if you heard it or thought it. You look down at him, and he already looks love drunk. Eyes half lidded, his hands move down to your hips again and pull you further onto him. You moan, bracing on his chest, and he groans with delight, "That's right baby, eyes on me... I want to see you."

"Ghost... kriff, s-so full," your eyes stay on his as you start to move on his lap, taking him fully each time you lower back down. You start slow, easing yourself through the burn of the initial stretch, but soon you're at an even pace. The sticky wet sound of his length moving in and out of you fills the room with your tandem breathing.

His hands hold you tight, hips bucking up into you as you bounce on his length. His eyes flicker between yours, your breasts bouncing, and the way he glides in and out of you with such easy. You whine for him, hands balling in his chest hair, clenching around his length, "Feels so good, Ghost, s-stars." When his fingers slide to your clit, you cry out for him with an arch of your back, "Ghost! Ah!"

"D-dont look away," his other hand holds your face, thumb running over your bottom lip before you take it in your mouth and suck. Ghost's eyes widen a little, his hips stuttering before the pace quickens, "Oh kriff..."

You release his thumb and lock eyes with him again, "I'm close, do-don't stop, don't stop, Ghost, oh-" a whine releases from your lips as he rubs your clit faster, eyelashes flutter but you keep your eyes open, closer and closer to the edge, "Ghost, oh, oh baby, oh Ghost!"

"S-stay with me baby, come on, s-so close, so--" he grunts, his hips snap up into your walls in an intense build of pressure before he sits up off the bed with a cry of your name, spending himself inside you without restraint.

His wild bucks and intense attention to your clit were enough to get you to the edge, but feeling him fill you with his spend, it sends you over into ecstasy. You collect his lips in a kiss as you orgasm, body clenching around his length and shuttering with aftershocks of pleasure. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you come down, and as Ghost holds you close, kissing your neck and shoulder, you feel so warm and safe.

Small drops of warmth hit your shoulder, and for a moment concern holds your body still. Was he hurt? You pull away to see Ghost's face, and to your surprise, tears are filling his new eyes, falling down his cheeks. You hold his face gently, wiping the tears from his unmarked skin, Careful of the sensitive scarring, "Ghost... what's wrong baby?"

"Nothing," he laughs a soft cry, kissing your lips just once, "I'm... overwhelmed. Spent the last month thinking of this, the last week needing to see you, just one more time, and..." He chuckles, feeling silly, kissing you again, "I can't believe this is real."

Your heart flutters, how is he this sweet? You press a delicate kiss to his forehead as you ease the both of you down. You nestle under his chin, still full of him, not willing to let that feeling end yet, "It's real, I promise."

After a few minutes of silence, Ghost rubbing your back in soothing circles, you're nearly asleep when you hear him again, "Did you mean it...?"

"Hm...?"

"You love me?"

You press a sleepy kiss to his jaw, "I love you, Ghost."

His heart picks up, you can feel it against your own, and it has you smiling. Ghost gives you a little squeeze, going back to rubbing your warm skin, "I love you too, Cyare."

71 notes · View notes

deadpuppetboi · 3 months ago

Text

I have a story to tell.

Way back, when I was in middle school, I was making up lost time during lunch by playing with my food.

I had no friends, no phone, or even the thought of drawing to waste time. I couldn’t really make up a single conversation with anyone, any kind of interest I had didn’t matter to anyone or anything. So I just distracted myself as best as I could so that I wouldn’t have to worry about what bothered me the most in my life.

But then I heard it.

Two boys around my age, sitting across from me, talking amongst themselves about how they would survive at Freddy’s.

I couldn’t remember what one said but I remember what the other said.

“Well, if I was in Freddy’s, I would have hidden at the very end of the restroom stall. But I’ll lock the door so that they won’t get inside!”

It was weird, I’ll have to admit.

How could someone get themselves into a restroom stall to hide from Freddy Krueger? How could you survive that? That’s stupid. Krueger would have killed them in a heartbeat, dream or not.

I forgot about the whole thing afterward, not thinking too much about it, not until it happened again but in a completely different way. It was in class, I wasn’t paying attention, of course, but a girl did turn her head back to look at me. It was strange but I laughed about it, not knowing it was a sign that it was going to change my life.

The girl was my friend, and for privacy's sake, we’ll call her G.

G properly introduced me to the world of Five Nights at Freddy’s. Her drawings were amazing, even now when I look back, I’m still impressed with how much skill she had in herself to be so detailed in her drawings.

Of course, it was around the time of the second game and many new characters were introduced into the series as a whole.

I was completely taken aback.

Animatronic animals that would hunt you down at night and stuff you in a suit in hopes you’ll become like them. Or just plainly kill you, whatever would be more horrifying.

And as horrifying as it was, I was in love with it.

I took in every media from it.

Fan fiction, YouTube videos, fan art, and even the long and complicated path of the future games afterward.

And I loved every second of it.

It changed me.

Better or worse, who knows, I loved it anyway.

Every time there was a new video about the series, I would watch it. A theory, a playthrough, a speed paint, an animation, and whatever else was out there that could entertain me. I was happy and content with what was in front of me and continued to grow with every update. I stimmed at any mention of my favorite characters, I drew and wrote for hours on end, and I annoyed practically everyone I knew with all I knew.

If anyone asked about The Marionette, The Nightmares, or even The Fnaf 4 Crying Child I would go INSANE and rant until my throat got sore. The love I had for the characters grew so much that it helped me get through some pretty awful situations. I’d love to dress up as The Marionette and get complimented by everyone who knew the character. I loved the thrill of ‘surviving the night’ by imagining The Nightmares in my home, going through the dark with little to no light, and running straight to my room, jumping onto my bed in fear that Nightmare Freddy would snatch me otherwise. I’d relate heavily with The Fnaf 4 Crying Child on what hardships he’d face, the tears he would shed, and being bullied for being afraid of someone or something he didn’t understand.

I was obsessed then, but not so much now.

But even as the years passed by, sometimes my interest would peak in the series but diminish just as quickly.

New books, new lore, and new games would come along but it didn’t really grab my attention like the early games did.

Not anyone’s fault (apart from the books lmfao) but I tend to look back at the chaotic but wonderful memories of what the series was like before when it was just four games.

No scooper, no remnant, no sci-fi, and no complicated history of the lore that keeps me awake at night.

Just a straightforward, albeit complicated, lore of a series of minimum-wage night guards who risk their lives for a very scummy company.

I love it

I love it so damn much.

So, Scott, from what I know, you’ll probably never see this, but just in case you do just know this.

Thank you, honestly.

There’s a lot to the games and characters that really resonate with me now and who knows how long. And even if I’m not as obsessed with the series as I was when I was younger, I love to know how much it’s shaped me into who and what I am today. And, sure, I may not like some aspects of the series now, but who am I to complain? I’m not the creator, I’m just a young adult trying to survive college in this already burning world.

So, whatever happens next, I’m just glad to see new fans get so excited talking about their favorite characters.

And I’m glad to see that it makes you happy to see other people appreciate your hard work.

So, again, Scott Cawthon, thank you for making Five Nights at Freddy’s, you really helped an awkward teenager find their place in an already confusing world.

Here are some pics of my favorite plushies featuring me and my custom Fredbear plushie)!

#probably will make a whole post about how and why The Fnaf 4 Crying Child/ The Marionette means so much to me #maybe if I dry the tears I had making this post idk #this series means so much to me #happy birthday fnaf #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys #fnaf 10th anniversary #fnaf 10 year anniversary

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