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norikuna · 25 days ago

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MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji x you #jjk toji #works

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tonycries · 8 months ago

Text

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.”

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right?

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious.

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement.

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji.

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and-

And then he’s pulling away.

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing.

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.”

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice.

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji.

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave.

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress.

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him.

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked.

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears.

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance.

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat.

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess.

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip!

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.”

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you.

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy.

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight.

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going. “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin.

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more.

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you.

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel.

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him.

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.”

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad.

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt.

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you-

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust.

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words.

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet.

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars.

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth.

And that answers his question.

Messy and desperate.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well.

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed.

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all.

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.”

---

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter.

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

8K notes · View notes

dazevi · 5 days ago

Note

on my hands n knees begging for a vi x reader fic where they keep getting interrupted which leads to desperate, whiny, quickie

i’ll be quick | hockey player!vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (mdni), wc: 6k+ | masterlist

content warnings: college/modern!au, smut (+18); vi being a needy/horny/whiny brat, service top?vi, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, kissing, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), overstimulation [idk what else i’m missing help]

note: first request!! ty for requesting!! i’ve been so excited to write for vi it was killing me. wrote it as modern au iydm as i could think of a more ways they got interrupted/where they would do it lol

Vi swears it’s not her fault—how could it be, when you look the way you do? She doesn’t think anyone could blame her, not really, not when you manage to completely undo her without even trying. You don’t even realize you’re doing it, that you’re so effortlessly pretty that she is left utterly useless whenever you’re around.

And God forbid you actually notice her staring—when you glance up at her from over your laptop, giving her that small, knowing smile, like you know exactly what you’re doing to her.

And she tries to keep it together, she really does, but you make it impossible.

It’s not just about how you look, though that’s definitely part of it. But she loves how you carry yourself, how smart you are, how dedicated you are. You’re an excellent student—always organized, always ahead of your deadlines, always balancing ten different things like it’s nothing.

And Vi knows she’s smart too; she wouldn’t have made it into this school, wouldn’t be holding onto her hockey scholarship, if she weren’t. But there’s something about the way you approach every little thing, like you know you’re capable of anything, that makes her want you even more.

It’s intoxicating, being around someone like you.

And maybe it’s selfish, but she loves the fact that you’re hers—that no matter how busy you both get, you still make time for her, still let her pull you into her arms, kiss you senseless, or fuck you so, so good.

These days, the problem is time.

There never seems to be enough of it.

Between your rigorous schedule and her demanding practices, you’re both constantly being pulled in different directions, and it drives Vi crazy. She hates how little time you get to spend together, how often she finds herself lying in her dorm room late at night, thinking about you and wishing you were there with her, laying in her bed, your clothes forgotten on her floor as she pushes your knees apart, listening to those delicious whines of yours while she inches her face closer… and closer… and closer to your wet pussy.

Vi groans loudly, annoyed she cant have you now.

And it doesn’t help that you don’t even share a dorm. You’ve each got your own roommates, which means that even when you do manage to carve out a few hours together, there’s always the risk of someone walking in.

It’s maddening, really—trying to navigate your relationship around other people’s schedules, stealing kisses in empty hallways and brushing your fingers together under the table in the dining hall, never able to just be with you the way she wants to be.

And then there’s the fact that she can never stop wanting you. She loves making you feel good, loves the way your body reacts to her touch, the way you whisper her name in that breathless, needy way that makes her heart race.

But no matter how much she wants you, something always gets in the way.

Maybe it’s your phone buzzing with a reminder about a study session, or the alarm on her watch going off to remind her she’s got practice in ten minutes. Maybe it’s the sound of your roommate’s key turning in the lock, making you both scramble to look presentable before they walk in.

Whatever it is, it always happens just when things are starting to heat up, leaving Vi groaning in frustration as she pulls away from you, her forehead resting against your shoulder as she mutters something about how unfair this all is.

And you—you always laugh softly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before telling her that there’ll be other nights, other moments, other chances.

But Vi doesn’t want other nights. Not when she wants you now.

She had been frustrated since that time she was sat next to you in your dorm room, alone and studying.

The soft hum of your room’s desk lamp filled the most of quiet, broken only by the sounds of pages flipping and your voice drifting lazily into her Vi’s ears. You were perched on the carpeted floor, leaning slightly over the low table scattered with textbooks, notes, and half-finished assignments. Vi sat next to you, her legs stretched out in front of her, one elbow propped on the table as she twirled a pen between her fingers.

“And I don’t think he explained it very well, honestly,” you said, absentmindedly brushing your hair out of your face as you scanned your notes. “He kept going off on this tangent about historical context, which, honestly, is fine, but it didn’t really help me understand the actual analysis part. Do you think the midterm essay will—”

You paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware that Vi hadn’t responded in a while. You glanced up at her, and sure enough, her blue eyes were fixed on you, but not in the way you’d expect from someone actively listening.

She wasn’t looking at your notes, wasn’t even pretending to follow along. No, her gaze was focused on you, eyes drifting down to where the hem of your skirt meets the bare skin of your pretty thighs—her eyes a little too intense, a little too amused, and far too obvious for her to deny it.

“Vi,” you prompted, drawing out her name as you raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you even listening?”

“Hm?” she hummed, clearly unbothered as a slow smirk tugged at her lips.

She didn’t even try to cover up her distraction, and instead of answering, she leaned forward slightly, kissing your shoulder as her hand brushes against your knee.

You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your notes. “You know, this is going to be on the midterm. You could at least—”

But you didn’t get to finish, because her hand was suddenly sliding just above your knee, her fingertips brushing lightly against the skin of your thigh. You stiffened, your words faltering as you glanced at her. She didn’t look guilty, not in the slightest. If anything, she looked like she was having the time of her life, her smirk growing as she noticed the way your breath hitched.

“Vi,” you said again, this time a little softer, your tone caught somewhere between amused and warning.

“Mmhm,” she replied nonchalantly, like she hadn’t just started trailing her fingers higher, pushing the hem of your skirt up with an almost maddening slowness. “You were saying something about… historical context?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, sitting back slightly and shooting her a knowing look. “I think we’re having trouble focusing, Violet.”

“Can you blame me?” she asked, her voice low, her fingers now drawing lazy circles against your thigh before slipping underneath your skirt completely, the tips of her fingers playing with the soft fabric of your panties.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across your face. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying,” she quipped, her tone light and teasing as her hand crept a fraction higher and her face coming close, feeling her breath against your neck. “I’m just… multitasking.”

Before you could respond—or give in to the way your heart was starting to pound against your ribs—the sound of a knock echoed through the room. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make both of you freeze. Your head whipped toward the door, your face heating immediately as you scrambled to push Vi’s hand away.

“Hey, you in there?” your roommate’s voice called from the other side of the door.

Vi groaned quietly, leaning back and dragging her hand through her hair, her smirk quickly replaced by an exaggerated pout.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath, slouching back against the table like the universe had personally conspired against her.

You shot her an apologetic look as you stood, smoothing your skirt back down and trying to look as composed as possible.

“Yeah, just a second!” you called out, your voice a little too high, a little too hurried.

Your girlfriend just shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching like she couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or glare at the door.

Then, it happened again.

It had been a long, exhausting week, another one where your schedules never seemed to line up. Between Vi’s practices and your mounting workload for your classes, you barely had time to breathe, let alone spend time together. So when Vi got that text from you that your roommate just left for her classes, she showed up at your dorm that Saturday afternoon, sweaty from an early morning workout but unmistakably eager, you didn’t even think twice before pulling her inside and shutting the door behind her.

She looked good—too good. Her hair was damp from her shower after the gym, and she was wearing that snug black hoodie that you loved, the one that clung to her frame and her muscles just enough to drive you a little crazy.

Her hands were on your waist the second the door clicked shut, her lips brushing against your temple, then your jaw, then lower, like she’d been starving for your touch all week.

And, she practically was.

“You missed me,” you teased, your voice light as your fingers slid up the front of her hoodie.

“Mhmm… missed you,” she murmured against your neck, nodding her head as her hands grip your hips, tugging you closer before grabbing a handful of your ass. “Been thinking about you all morning. All week, actually.”

You laughed softly, your heart fluttering at the way her voice dipped, low and warm. She backed you toward your bed, her movements a little less teasing than usual, a little less patient. It wasn’t like her to rush, but you could feel it in the way her lips moved against yours when she kissed you, in the way her hands tightened around your waist. She’d been waiting too long for this, and she wasn’t shy about showing it.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of your bed, and you sank down onto the mattress, Vi following you immediately. She slid one knee onto the bed, her weight pressing you back gently as her hands trailed up your thighs, bunching your oversized shirt as they went. You could feel her smirk against your lips, her breath hitching slightly when your hands tangled in her hoodie to pull her closer.

And then—like some cruel joke—her phone buzzed.

She ignored it at first, too focused on the way your body shifted beneath hers, too caught up in the way your lips parted for her. But when the buzzing didn’t stop, her forehead dropped to your shoulder with a frustrated groan.

“Don’t,” you whispered against her ear, a quiet plea as your fingers slipped under the hem of her hoodie. “Just let it ring.”

She wanted to—God, she wanted to.

But she knew better.

“It’s probably my coach,” she muttered, the irritation thick in her voice as she reluctantly sat up, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her jaw clenched when she saw the name on the screen, and she ran a hand through her hair, looking at you with an apologetic grimace.

You watched her, sitting there with her phone in hand, clearly torn between staying with you and answering the call. “Vi,” you said softly, placing a hand on her thigh, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she snapped, though the frustration wasn’t directed at you. She tossed her phone onto the bed and dropped her head into her hands, exhaling sharply. “I swear the universe has something against me or something.”

You could see it in her posture, the way her shoulders slumped, how her fingers curled into her hair like she was holding herself back from punching something. She didn’t say it outright, but you could tell how much this bothered her, how badly she wanted to stay.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, rough around the edges as she looked up at you. Her eyes softened when they met yours, guilt flickering behind her frustration. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.“

You leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek, and smiled. “I know, baby.”

But as she left, throwing her hoodie back on and muttering under her breath about how ridiculous the timing was, you couldn’t help but notice the way her jaw tightened when she glanced back at you one last time. She looked like she was already planning how to make up for it, her frustration tempered only by her determination to make you feel as wanted as she knew you were.

Vi didn’t know how much longer she could go without having you.

It just kept happening. Again and again.

All the way up to the day of her big game.

The noise from the rink was still echoing faintly through the hallways of the arena, cheers fading as the crowd filtered out, but it all felt distant compared to the weight of Vi’s eyes on you. You were waiting outside the locker room as usual, leaning casually against the cinderblock wall as players and staff rushed past you, voices loud in celebration.

The door swung open, and Vi stepped out like she’d been looking for you the entire time. She spotted you instantly, her eyes locking on yours, and you couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips. She looked a little flushed, her hair damp and sticking to her neck under her hoodie, her bag slung over her shoulder.

But there was something else too, something in the way her gaze didn’t move from you for even a second. It was heavy—her eyes dragging over you, slow and warm, like she couldn’t help herself.

You pushed off the wall and walked toward her, your voice light.

“Hi, superstar,” you teased, hoping to coax her into her usual cocky grin.

She didn’t smile. Vi’s lips stayed pressed in a thin line, and the way she looked at you sent a shiver down your spine—hungry, focused, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You did so good, Vi,” you went on, trying to fill the quiet. “I heard everyone’s waiting for you at the party. They’re probably already chanting your name. It’s like…”

You trailed off as Vi took a small step toward you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you—her eyes roaming your face, dropping to your lips, then back up again.

Slowly, she shook her head, almost as if she was answering a question you hadn’t asked.

“Vi?” you murmured, tilting your head. “What’s wrong?”

Her voice was quiet, but the rough edge of it hit you square in the chest.

“I need you.”

It was so soft, so desperate… you wouldn’t be lying if you said that it almost sounded like she was about to cry.

Your breath caught, the words landing heavy on your chest. You blinked up at her, trying to process what she’d just said, but Vi didn’t let up. She stepped in closer, so close that you had to tilt your head back to meet her eyes. Her hand reached out, fingers brushing over your wrist before curling gently around it.

“Vi…” you started, unsure of what to say. You could hear the distant hum of people talking, laughter spilling from somewhere down the hall. “Everyone’s going to be looking for you. It’s your party—”

“I don’t care,” she cut you off, her voice low, breathless and strained.

She brought her free hand up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing softly along your cheek before letting it fall to your waist to pull you in a bit closer.

“Please… I’ll be quick, baby, I promise. Just…” Her voice wavered as her eyes searched yours, almost pleading.

You swallowed hard, the intensity of her gaze making your pulse race. You could feel the heat of her hands on your skin, could see the desperation written so plainly on her face. Vi didn’t usually let herself get like this—didn’t let her restraint snap—but tonight, it was barely holding together.

“Please,” she said softly again, leaning in to peck your lips softly as another way to convince you.

You didn’t have time to respond before Vi gave your wrist a soft tug, leading you down the hallway with an urgency that sent a thrill straight to your core. Her grip wasn’t rough, but there was no mistaking the purpose behind it.

The sound of the arena faded with each step as Vi pulled you into a quieter hallway, finally stopping when she found an empty room—a storage space of some kind, dimly lit and empty of everything but shelves of sports gear.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even turn to say something, Vi was on you—her hands gripping your waist as she pushed you back against the wall. Any words you might have had died on your tongue, cut off as Vi crashed her lips against yours in a kiss so fervent it sent a shiver straight through you.

She kissed you like she’d been starving for days, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. The soft whine that left her throat was barely muffled by the kiss, high and desperate, a sound that sent a jolt of warmth pooling in your stomach.

God, if the universe took this away from her again, right now, she’d probably let the world burn.

Her hands roamed eagerly, gripping at your hips, sliding around your waist as if she needed to feel you.

You tried to speak—tried to gasp out something teasing, anything to break the tension—but Vi didn’t let you. Her lips moved down to your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Vi…” you managed, breathless, but the sound was cut off as her hands splayed across your lower back, then trailing down to grab your ass.

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” Vi muttered against your skin, her voice low and strained. She kissed her way back up to your lips, pressing her body flush against yours as she did.

Her thigh slid between yours, drawing a soft moan from your lips that only made her whine again in response—higher, needier.

“Violet,” you breathed again, half scolding, half pleading, your hands reaching up to curl into her hoodie.

“I can’t help it,” she whined softly, pressing her forehead to yours for just a second as her chest rose and fell, her breathing heavy and uneven. “You—fuck, you always look so good. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation bleeding through as she dipped down to kiss you again—slower this time but no less needy. Her lips lingered, moving with purpose, her tongue brushing teasingly against yours.

Your fingers curled tighter into her hoodie, trying to hold onto something, anything, as Vi made a quiet, almost pleading noise into your mouth, like she wasn’t just kissing you—she was begging for you. Her hands slid down to your thighs, gripping just above your knees as she pressed herself closer, her body impossibly warm against yours.

“Please,” she whispered softly against your lips, the word barely audible but heavy enough to make your head spin. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her flushed face inches from yours, her eyes dark and wide.

“I need you so bad.”

Her voice cracked again, and it was almost her undoing. Vi looked desperate—like she was barely holding herself together, like the sheer sight of you had unraveled her completely.

You could see it in the way her hands trembled just slightly against your thighs, in the way her lips were swollen and parted, like she’d been kissing you for hours instead of minutes.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Vi didn’t give you the chance. She kissed you again, harder this time, her hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt, her fingers grazing your bare skin. Every quiet moan you let out, every sharp inhale, only seemed to make Vi whine more—desperate, pleading little sounds that escaped her lips like she couldn’t help herself.

She sighed when she finally broke the kiss, panting softly as her forehead rested against yours again.

“Been wanting to fuck you for weeks...” Her voice was strained, so thick with need that it made your breath hitch.

Vi’s hands slid upward, her palms were warm against your skin as she pushed your shirt higher, her breathing shallow and uneven as though she was holding herself back. But when her hands finally cupped your tits, her restraint shattered.

“Fuck…” she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself, her voice husky and breathless.

Her thumbs brushed over the peaks of your breasts, and the moment her fingertips rolled softly over your nipples, you gasped, your back arching involuntarily.

Vi groaned in response, the sound deep and raw, her lips brushing against the curve of your neck as she pressed herself closer to you. Her fingers teased you again, rolling your nipples between them. She was trembling now—excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of finally being inside you, all wet and warm, all because of her… oh, fuck.

“V-Violet—“

“I’m here, baby.”

She worked her way across your neck and down to your collarbone, her mouth hot and unrelenting as she left a trail of hickeys that you knew would be impossible to hide. Her teeth nipped at your collarbone, making you gasp, and she chuckled softly against your skin—a low, breathy sound that only made you squirm against her more.

But her hands—her hands were just as impatient as her mouth. They trailed down from your chest, slipping under your shirt to tease the bare skin of your stomach.

She gave your tits one last squeeze before moving lower, her fingers dragging purposefully over your thighs and slipping beneath your skirt. Vi’s touch was rough and hurried now, her breath hitching as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down impatiently.

You let out a soft whine as the cool air brushed against you, your hands gripping at Vi’s shoulders to keep yourself steady. She smirked, straightening just enough to pull your panties free before shoving them into her back pocket like a prize.

Her eyes flicked up to yours, dark with hunger, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a teasing grin.

“I’ll keep these safe for you,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive, her fingers brushing over your thigh.

Vi’s smirk faltered the second a hand slid up, brushing over the soaked heat between your legs. Her breath hitched, and she froze for half a second, like the realization of just how wet you were short-circuited her brain. Her fingers pressed against your pussy more firmly, teasing, slipping through your wet folds.

“You’re so wet for me,” she murmured, the words coming out like a growl, low and desperate.

Her lips found your neck again, kissing and biting as her fingers finally moved, slipping inside you with eagerly. Vi groaned at the way you clenched around her, her forehead pressing harder against your skin.

“You feel so fucking good,” she rasped, her voice strained, her fingers curling slightly as she started to move.

Vi’s lips curved into a sly grin as she felt how tight you were around her fingers, the heat of you gripping her so perfectly it made her groan low in her throat. She eased another finger inside your pussy with a soft moan against your neck. The stretch made you gasp, muffling the sound against her shoulder, your fingers digging into her strong biceps as your body trembled beneath her.

Her fingers moved faster now, thrusting and curling inside you, hitting that spongy spot inside you that made your body jerk and your breath catch in your throat. She couldn’t hold back her groans as she felt you grow wetter around her fingers, the slickness making her movements effortless as you drenched her hand. The sound alone—the wet, obscene noises and squelches of her fingers working—had her biting back a moan of her own.

You whimpered softly against her neck, your lips brushing her skin as you whispered, “Vi, d-don’t go too fast, I’ll be too loud.”

But Vi wasn’t listening. She didn’t stop, her fingers curling just right, the angle of her wrist shifting as she drove you closer to the edge. Her lips brushed against your ear, dazed and lost at the feeling of you.

“No… wanna hear you,” she murmured, shaking her head softly. “Need to fuck you like this… please…”

Your response was a broken moan that you immediately tried to smother against her neck, your face buried in her skin as your body shook. Your muffled cries vibrated against her. She didn’t slow down—if anything, her pace became more deliberate, her fingers thrusting deep and curling just right, her thumb brushing over you in a way that made you jerk in her arms.

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but press yourself tighter against her, hiding your face in her neck as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your muffled moans and cries slipping past your lips no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. Your hands clutched at her shirt, desperate for some kind of anchor as she drove you closer and closer to the edge, her fingers relentless.

She slid her thumb up to press firmly against your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, hips jerking involuntarily as her name slipped from your lips in a breathless cry.

Vi groaned, her forehead pressing against yours again as she whispered, “That’s it, baby. I’ve got you.”

Her pace quickened, her thumb working in tandem with her fingers, brushing and circling your clit. You could feel the pressure building rapidly, your hands clutching at her shoulders, nails digging into her skin as your body writhed beneath her touch.

“Vi—” you whimpered, but she only groaned again, her thumb pressing harder.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her voice raw and wrecked, the need in her tone making your chest tighten. “Please, baby. I want to feel you.”

Her thumb circled faster on your clit, her fingers curling deep inside you, brushing that spot that made your hips buck. Your entire body tensed, and Vi could feel it—could feel the way your walls tightened around her fingers, the way your legs trembled against her.

You jerked again, your hands flying up to grip the back of her neck as your orgasm crashed over you, soaking her hand. Your cries spilled out in broken moans against her shoulder as you buried your face there, trembling uncontrollably.

Vi groaned at the feel of you, her fingers slowing but never stopping, working you through your orgasm.

“Oh.. fuck,” she murmured, her voice thick and low as she pressed kisses to your temple, her free hand running soothingly along your back.

She didn’t stop until you were shaking, your body softening against hers, completely undone. Only then did she ease her hand away, holding you close, her lips brushing against your ear.

Vi pulls back slightly, her chest rising and falling as she watches you with hooded eyes, her lips still parted as though she can’t quite catch her breath. Her hair is slightly disheveled, her jaw tight, and the flush on her cheeks deepens as her gaze sweeps over you—your trembling legs, the way your chest heaves, your swollen lips.

It’s enough to make her look intoxicated, drunk on the sight of you.

Your breaths come unevenly, and you try to regain some semblance of composure as your hands smooth down your skirt—though it does little to cover the disheveled state you’re both in.

With a breathy laugh, you tease, “Your friends are probably wondering where you are by now.”

You press your hands against the wall for balance, trying to steady yourself, but your legs feel weak, unsteady.

Vi blinks slowly, her expression soft yet utterly dazed, like her mind is still stuck on you and nothing else. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she shakes her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“They can wait,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough, her eyes still fixed on you as though she’s already made up her mind. “A little longer.”

Before you can respond, before you can even process what she’s doing, Vi drops to her knees with a quiet thud, her hands gripping your hips as she looks up at you, eyes dark with determination.

You start to stammer, “Vi—w-what are you—” but the words dissolve into a sharp gasp as she tilts her head forward, burying her face under your skirt.

The heat of her breath against your sensitive pussy is enough to make your knees buckle slightly, and you have to press a hand to the wall for support.

“Oh my god—” Your words trail off into a moan as her lips move with purpose, her hands sliding up to grip your thighs, holding you in place as she starts working you over again.

Her tongue drags along your sensitive folds hungrily. She’s relentless, almost feral in her need to keep going, and every sound you make seems to spur her on, her grip tightening, her pace quickening as if she can’t help herself.

“Vi—” you gasp, your fingers tangling in her hair as your body presses back against the wall for support.

The world outside this storage room feels a million miles away, irrelevant in the face of her overwhelming need to claim you, to pull more of those beautiful sounds from your lips. She clings to your thighs, her fingers digging into your skin as though she’s afraid you’ll slip away, pulling you closer to her face. Her breaths come heavy and uneven, breaking between every flick of her tongue, and you can feel the soft, frustrated whines vibrating against you.

She buries herself deeper, pressing her sexy nose against you, brushing against your clit as her tongue moves faster, more purposeful, and the sounds she makes—those low, needy whimpers and breathless moans—send heat pooling in your stomach.

“Vi—W-Wait—” Your voice cracks, your hands instinctively reaching down to tangle in her messy pink hair.

You tug lightly, trying to pull her back just enough for you to catch your breath, but it only seems to spur her on. She lets out a guttural noise, muffled against you, and tightens her hold on your hips, keeping you pinned against the wall as her tongue delves deeper.

She’s not just eager; she’s ravenous, her tongue lapping at you with a reckless kind of determination. She drags her lips along your folds, pausing to suck gently, then harder, her moans spilling against your skin like she’s losing herself in the act. Her hands slide down, fingers curling just under the curve of your ass, pulling you further into her mouth as though she needs more of you, as though she can’t get enough.

“Tastes so good… fuck,” she mumbles hoarsely between movements, muffled by your pussy.

She tilts her head slightly to look up at you, her pupils blown wide with need, her lips slick and glistening, and her expression is nothing short of worshipful.

You can only moan in response, your body arching involuntarily as she sucks hard on your clit, sending a white-hot jolt of pleasure through you. Your knees buckle, but she’s quick to adjust, one arm moving to support you as she keeps her pace relentless. Her mouth never falters, never stops, even as her breaths turn shaky, and you can feel the tension in her body like she’s wound up so tight she might break.

She starts to whine again, this high-pitched, needy sound muffled against you, and it makes your whole body burn with want. It’s almost too much, the way she’s devouring you so completely, so thoroughly, her desperation written in every trembling moan and ragged breath.

You feel yourself getting closer all over again, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second, and you can’t even form the words to warn her.

Vi seems to know, though, because she presses harder, faster, the vibrations of her needy whimpers pushing you over the edge.

You cry out, your voice breaking as another orgasm racks through your body, and she groans deeply against you, her fingers tightening their grip as she keeps going, drawing every last bit of your release from you. Even as your legs tremble and your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, she doesn’t stop, her tongue still flicking against you with unrelenting hunger.

“Vi—” You whine, tugging weakly at her hair, your head falling back against the wall.

She finally slows down, her lips lingering as though she can’t bear to part from you just yet, her breaths coming hot and heavy against your skin. When she finally pulls back, her chin is glistening with your cum, her lips swollen and parted as she looks up at you with a dazed, almost drunk expression, her chest heaving. Vi stays on her knees for a moment, her hands still gripping your thighs as she looks up at you, her chest rising and falling with every heavy breath.

She’s grinning, wide and wolfish, her lips shiny and swollen, her cheeks flushed, and there’s a satisfaction in her eyes that only comes from getting exactly what she’s been craving. Her pink hair is a mess where your fingers had tugged and twisted, strands sticking out at odd angles, but she doesn’t seem to care.

If anything, it makes her grin even smugger.

She wipes her chin lazily with the back of her hand, the movement slow and deliberate, like she’s savoring the moment.

“Told you I’d be quick,” she says, her voice husky, tinged with a playful rasp. “Though, honestly, I think I deserve extra credit for being that good under pressure.”

You groan, your face still warm from the aftermath, and roll your eyes as you push at her shoulder lightly with your knee. “You’re impossible, Violet.”

Vi stands up slowly, stretching her back as she towers over you again, but her grin never fades. She leans down, bracing one hand against the wall beside your head, her face hovering close to yours, her lips quirking in that trademark cocky smirk.

“Impossible to resist, maybe,” she teases, her voice dropping low, brushing a kiss over your jaw before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

You shake your head, exasperated but unable to fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Full of you, actually,” Vi quips shamelessly, her tone dripping with cheekiness, and she snickers at the way your face heats up again.

You roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath, but her playful expression makes it hard to keep your composure.

“Can I have my panties back now?” you ask, your voice strained but teasing, as you reach down to try and adjust yourself, realizing they’re still tucked into her back pocket.

Vi looks down at the waistband of your panties for a second, feigning deep thought as she taps her chin, her smirk never leaving her face.

“Mmmm,” she hums, looking up at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “No.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious.”

And she really was.

Because the whole night, she didn’t let you forget—whispering in your ear about how you were bare underneath your skirt as everyone else danced around you, her breath warm against your skin.

Her playful smirk never left her face as she leaned in close, whispering about how you looked so much better without them, her fingers grazing the edge of your skirt as if to remind you of just how good she made you feel.

ty for reading ! | masterlist

#b’s writings #vi <3 #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane #arcane #league of legends #fanfic

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skteezcursed · 6 months ago

Text

❝greedy little darlin❞ — p.sh.

PAIRING. frat!park seonghwa x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. dom!seonghwa. switch!sub!reader. university au. frat members ateez. sex talk (among adults). drinking (not too much, but just enough). pet names (mostly darling, reader is called slut once, good girl and handsome, prob more but i cant remember now). blowjob. hair pulling. cunnilingus. tongue fucking. over stimulation. sex with a condom (please remember to do that irl). light chocking. three? slaps on the ass. not proof read. i guess that's all, lmk if i forgot something.

SYNOPSIS. everyone knew you and Seonghwa were into each other, your friends even places a bet on when that would happen, although it never did. until he gets tired of your antics and decides to put you in your place.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. ~5,6k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateez frat boys (that i will still make so give me a moment) and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. shout out to @bro-atz for helping coming up with the idea for this, and to @seulrinnie-rinrin for betaing part of this. hopefully this is me leaving my slump so yeah, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

Nothing was ever simple with Seonghwa.

Ever since the beginning, it was as if something was pulling you two closer and closer, the tension growing at each encounter. At first, everyone thought it was because you two didn’t know each other, the thing is that, after you met, the tension didn’t falter, it actually increased exponentially, to the point where your friends were making bets as to when and who would break first.

Park Seonghwa is the type of guy that makes you question everything. Because how can a man be so drop dead gorgeous with minimum to no effort? How can he look the squishiest human being with those adorable boba eyes, but also have the devilish look on his face when his eyes became siren and the smirk in present, making you question if you should really keep that line between friends high, blocking your passage, blocking you to reach his collar and kiss him like you need oxygen, to feel his marvelous tongue in between your folds, his hair in between your fingers as he -

“Earth to (y/n), you there?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” you looked around your friends with an apologetic look before focusing on the food in front of you, sighing. “What are we talking about again?”

“Damn, you truly dozed off,” the chuckle Mingi gave, was followed by some of the others as San just turned to you with that sweet smile of his, the dimples present, a reminder he too, was holding back a laugh.

“Since midterms are over, we were planning on having a little get together at the frat, no big party, just a few drink with friends, it’s not like any of us have time to organize it anyways,” you nodded taking another bite of your food, the movement being noticed by San who exchanged glances with the others. “So, can we count you on?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend, Sannie?” Everyone laughed as you leaned to kiss San’s cheek, apologizing. “I’ll be there, just let me know when.”

“We are all gonna be there, by the way,” the knowing smile that Wooyoung sent your way, made you want to push his face against his plate, “in case you want to dress up.”

“Why would I dress up to a get together with you guys?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because Hwa is gonna be there.”

“And you have a huge crush on him,” Jongho continued Yunho’s line and you could see Yeosang opening his mouth.

“And let's not forget the sexual tension there is!”

“You two should honestly just fuck already and end everyone’s suffering at this point.”

“What the fuck you guys talking about, and another word from you,” you pointed at Wooyoung who had made the last remark, “and I’ll shove your face against the plate!”

“Oh, kinky, should we let Hwa know?”

Yunho commented and all the boys bursted into laughter as all you wanted was to be buried six feet under.

Of course you had a crush on Seonghwa. Of course whenever you two were together there was this small flirtatious situation, and the sexual tension was definitely high whenever you two were close in a room, but that didn’t mean anything.

“I’m sure he’ll cave in soon and fuck you,” San’s words brought you back, making you eye him slightly shocked. “What? He thinks you are hot, he even said it to us the first time you two met, but I also don’t know why he hasn't done shit.”

“Because he likes to play with his food before eating it.”

Wooyoung jumped from the table the same second he finished his sentence already running from you trying to slap him, making everyone at the table and around you seven to laugh at the situation.

“I’ll fucking end you, Jung Wooyoung!”

You dolled up, he knew you would.

You always did whenever you two were to meet, only to be even more irresistible in his eyes. The fact that his brother’s from the fraternity knew how badly he wanted you, didn’t help as they would always create situations for the two of you to get close. Not that neither bothered to argue. Seonghwa had tried to reason with the younger ones, but as soon as he realized you didn’t really care, even indulged whenever it happened, made him decide to test how far you were willing to go.

As if you knew about it, you played along.

You accepted his drinks, laughed at his jokes, shiver under his touch, lean towards him when he was close. Yet, you would also pull your own strings. You knew he wouldn’t be jealous, you noticed on the first few tries on how he simply would smile or laugh at your useless attempts at making him feel anything when you were with someone else, which was not the case when he was the one trying to make you jealous, even if unintentionally.

So you changed your methods. From revealing clothes and trying to make him jealous, you simply decided to make yourself present, being there if needed, and flee if that was not the case, you stopped trying to get his attention, deciding to enjoy your time and maybe, just maybe, get with someone to alleviate the ache between your thighs whenever Seonghwa got too handsy with you before leaving you high and dry.

ATZ frat was known, as any other house on the Greek Road, to be just to mess around, never to create a relationship. Although you knew Wooyoung since you were kids, you knew that to be true whenever you and the other boys would get together, even San who appeared to be the one who leans mostly towards dating, would fuck around from time to time. The odds weren’t in your favor, so you decided to brush it off, to have fun with your friends, to go to their frat from time to time, and that was when your ‘relationship’ with Seonghwa started to change.

Both of you knew that this was never going forward. The moment you realized that, it was like something shifted in him, he started to go towards you whenever you met, regardless if it was at the frat or not. You knew that didn’t mean he was going to accept your advances, especially after you found out Hongjoong had established a rule that family and close friends from the members were off limits after a complicated situation happened a few weeks back and that you were highly aware of.

“So, you guys actually decided to throw a low profile party, hm? That’s a first,” you comment as Seonghwa opened the door and took a step back to let you in the frat before taking your jacket off, which he quickly took it in his hands as he closed the door. “Is anyone else coming?”

You asked, looking around, trying to see anyone, but the house looked rather empty. “I don’t know, but the main entertainment has finally arrived,” he purred against your ear, making you shiver as you smirked, keeping your composure. “Care for something to drink?”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you are having,” you answer quickly, trying to brush off the shiver as you follow him towards the kitchen. “Heard it was a get together with friends… Was kind of expecting more people, if I’m honest.”

“Anyone in particular?” Seonghwa asked as he handed you a bottle of soju, clacking the bottles before bringing it to his lips, predatory eyes scanning your face. “Or are you asking to be sure you will be the only one here?”

As he took a step closer to you, you changed the weight of your foot before bringing the soju bottle to your own lips. “No one in particular, and we both know I don't mind sharing attention.”

Your eyes wandered across his face, lingering on his smirk before your fingers played with the necklace that hung low on his sheer shirt, the small opening where the necklace hang allowing your fingers to brush along the skin, as you noticed the smirk on Seonghwa’s lips grow slightly, his tongue poking out before you move away from him with a smirk.

“C’mon man, a hundred!”

“Fuck off Wooyoung, I’m not joining,” Mingi said pushing Wooyoung slightly chuckling as both their eyes landed on you, “it will be just another night and you know it, you will lose money.”

“So why you scared of betting?”

Wooyoung smirked at Mingi with raised eyebrows. “What you two up to, this time?”

“Betting if you and Hwa finally give in and fuck,” Wooyoung says bluntly making you scoff as you took another sip of your drink as you watch Seonghwa from afar talking to a few other people. “I’m betting it will, but the others are sure it’s just another night where you two keep with your cat and mouse game.”

“He knows I’m down, it’s in his lane,” you chuckle at Wooyoung’s words as you finish your drink. “I’m getting another bottle, do you guys want it?”

Both denied as Wooyoung continued to patronize Mingi, making you shake your head as you moved past Seonghwa, a little too close for comfort as your hand brush on his ass and you notice his eyes fall on you as you kept going to the kitchen, giving him a smirk as you open the fridge to get another bottle of soju.

“That’s your fourth bottle,” you hear Seonghwa’s voice, seeing him eye you from the counter, the bottle on his hands half empty, “shouldn’t you slow down?”

“Oh, is the mighty Park Seonghwa worried about me?” You smirk as you choose your bottle, opening as you eyed him. “That’s adorable, and I would actually believe it if it was a different scenario…”

“Why do you think I’m not?”

His eyes followed your form as you walked towards him, his hand instinctively finding your hip pressing it lightly, as he noticed your breath hitch as the bottle met your lips.

“Because we are at a party, a chill one, where nothing major is gonna happen…” Your eyes followed down to his sheer shirt, nails tracing down, touching his skin and abs over the shirt as you reached his pants, fingers vagally there before it went to the hook of the pants. “And I’m getting bored.”

His hand on your hips pressed, making you bite your lip as he took a step closer, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes studied every reaction. “So you intend to get drunk?”

“It’s not a solution, but it’s a possibility,” you say as your body gets closer to him, the freaking magnetic relationship you had whenever you two were together. “You have pretty friends…”

Your eyes avert for the people behind Seonghwa, who follows your eyes as it lands on some of his colleagues and friends before reaching yours with a small knowing smirk.

“I don’t think they are available…”

“Funny, because some of them already engaged in a few conversations with me,” you chuckle watching him, as one of your fingers extended and touched near his crotch area lightly, “and i can’t say I’m not interested in what they have to say…”

“Then have your fun with them, I’ll be waiting to hear about it later,” he hinted with raised eyebrows to you as his bottle reached his lips, his eyes never leaving you.

“Oh, so they are the kiss and tell type…” You murmur looking at his friends once more. “Might as well prepare for a performance then.”

“You wouldn’t need to if they knew what they were doing,” his eyes burned on you, as a smirk played on his lips, his hand pulling you as it reached your lower back, pressing you against his, against the bulge in his pants. His lips brushed against your ear, “but hey, if you are gonna fake better put on a memorable show, which I’m sure you are more than capable of doing.”

“I always do,” your voice sounded steady but your body was betraying you, as usual. “Wouldn’t be bad to not have to fake it everytime.”

Your hands moved between your bodies as you squeezed his bulge lightly, hearing him wince. “Feeling brave today, are we?”

“No, just needing to relieve some stress, after all, finals are finally over.”

You brushed your lips against Seonghwa’s before squeezing his bulge once more before pushing him away with the hand that held the soju bottle as you moved past him, smirking.

“So this is how we are playing tonight?” Seonghwa said under his breath. “Good luck with your boy toy search.”

He said a little louder, which you only raised your hand dismissing his comment, as his eyes lingered on your figure. The pants becoming a bother. Finals week had taken its toll on him, and just like you, he also needed a release. His eyes trailed on you as he watched you move, talk, touch and laugh at everyone's commentaries, a knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk always present as he called in one of his friends.

As it usually happened, neither you nor Seonghwa engaged once more throughout the night as you went on and on talking to every male, choosing if you’d bring any of them back home with you. The soju bottle now empty as your eyes wander on the last choices.

“Found them already?”

The amusement in Seonghwa voice already told the smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe…”

“I’ll take that as no then,” you felt him get closer to you, his front pressing on your side. “I may have someone for you, if you want.”

“Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” your eyes quickly shot him a confused but amused look.

“And you seemed too bothered right now, so what is your answer?”

His hot breath against your neck and ear as you felt his lips touch your skin as his eyes studied you, as yours followed around the room trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, missing one as you turned to him with a smirk. Lips almost touching as you did, feeling his hand on your lower back.

“I guess you got my taste correctly.”

“Darling, when I say I know you, I mean it.”

Lips quickly found your cheekbone as his hand pulled you closer to his body. You held any sound not giving him the satisfaction.

“Cocky as always, aren’t you?” You chuckle but not move away from him, your nails scratching his abs through the shirt and subtly, as you feel them contract. “Why don’t you go get him then? I’m getting rather tired.”

“He went upstairs though, should we go fetch him?” His eyes were siren-like, a small smirk as he took your wrist, guiding you up the stairs. The look from some of the boys from the frat only made you laugh as you shook your head. “What’s funny?”

Seonghwa asks curiously as you reach the second floor. “Some of the boys looked at you guiding me.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he chuckled as well, his demeanor changing a little as he kept his hand on your wrist guiding you through the rooms, reaching the one you knew to be his. “Someone spilled a drink on his shirt, he asked to borrow one of mine.”

Your eyebrows raised, nodding still processing what was happening, as Seonghwa was a master of teasing you and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d guide you to the rooms — or his in specific — only to get you even more frustrated. Your eyes studied his features as his hand opened his room motioning for you to enter.

“I’m not fucking your friend in your room, Seonghwa.”

“Who says anything on those lines, darling?” A chuckle left his lips. “Now, will you be a good girl and enter the room, or don’t you trust me to have your best interest in heart?”

You bit your lip, noticing his gaze fall on them for a second before you motion to enter his room, eyes looking for the friend who was indeed with a shirt from Seonghwa and a stained one in hand.

“Oh, hello,” the boys said moving away from his phone, putting his shirt in a corner before his eyes fell on you and then Seonghwa. “Wingman, hm?”

You shook your head at his words, noticing Seonghwa nod as you focused on the boy that took a few steps towards you.

“A good wingman, nonetheless,” your voice was laced with amusement as his friend reached closer with a smirk, his hand going to cup your face. “Now, shall we leave?”

“Just give us a second, will you, darling?” Seonghwa said against your neck as you noticed both leave you, allowing you to take a breather. Of course Seonghwa would pull something like that. Few seconds later you hear footsteps and the movement of the door. “Thank you for being such a good girl, darling.”

At that, the door closed the same second Seonghwa’s hands found yours hips pulling you against his front making you gasp, before chuckling lightly.

“Smart, I gotta give you that.”

“Couldn’t have made it easy for you to figure it out, could I?”

His lips quickly found your neck as you moved your head to the side giving him access as you arched your back, pressing your ass against his bulge. One hand found his on your hip as the other went to the back of his neck tangling on his long locks.

“Of course, what would be the fun in that?” You chuckle before gasping as you felt him suck on the skin of your neck, as you put pressure on his nape, feeling his right hand lower towards your exposed thigh, the tips quickly wander to your inner thighs going up teasing your clothed core. “If you are just teasing this time, I swear —”

“I’m done with your antics, darling, it’s time to put you in your place.” The whimper that left your mouth made him chuckle against your neck as he put pressure on your clothed clit making you jolt. “C’mon darling, I think we postponed this for far too long,” his hands quickly turned you to face him, one hand on your chin before going to your hair. “Why don’t we start with you on your knees?”

You oblige letting him push you down, until your knees felt the floor, his crotch eye leveled, your mouth watering as his other hand undid his pants, the one on your head entangling with your hair as his pants fell, leaving him only in his underwear, the outline of his cock on display as you swallow hard. A light caress on your scalp was the only ‘okay’ you got before your hands quickly went to his waistband, lowering the underwear slowly.

His cockhead glowing with precum as you licked your lips feeling him pull your head near his pelvis, your hands pulling the rest of his underwear down as his cockhead quickly met the touch of your lips. The groan that left his lips making you smile as the pool in between your legs grew. As one hand finished pulling down his underwear, the other quickly met the base of his cock.

“Such a handsome face with such a pretty cock,” you said with a smile before opening your mouth, taping his tip on your tongue, feeling his fingers tighter on your head.

“Such a pretty filthy mouth, I wonder how it would look filled with my cum.”

Without a warning, he pushed your head down his length, moaning as your lips and tongue made contact with his cock, your hand working on the base of the cock as the other rested on his thigh. In swift movements you started to little by little take him in your mouth, gagging lightly from time to time, before he let you breath, the spit line connecting your swollen lips to his cock only making him twitch before fucking your mouth once more.

“Fuck, darling, do you like when I fuck your mouth like that, hm?” One of his hands caressed your hollowed cheeks as he slowed his movements a bit, to be able to look at you. “Such a pretty little thing for me, taking me in your mouth so well like that, I wonder how your cunt feels if this is how well your mouth treats me.”

You mumble with your mouth around his cock, making the vibration run through his body as one of your hands went up his abs under the shirt, which he quickly took it off, throwing somewhere along the pants and underwear as you started to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand on the base of his cock, sometimes joining in the movement your head was making. The sounds and cusses that went out of Seonghwa’s mouth only made you wetter by the second, if it wasn’t for your damped panties, you sure would have made a messy spot of arousal on his floor.

At this point you tried your best to keep yourself composed, mouth open and holding yourself steady as he fucked your mouth, holding your head in place before his movements become more erratic. You could feel him twitch on your mouth the last few times, the cockhead reaching the back of your throat, your eyes watering as your nails sank onto the skin of his thigh before his release filled your mouth and throat.

Before he could pull it out you held his base, slurping as you got the last drop of his cum in your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth, putting his tip again in your tongue. The smirk along with the groan that left him was enough to make you want to do it all over again, to have him fuck your mouth once more, but his hand was quickly on your chin pulling you up, before connecting your mouths, making both moan against your lips.

Your hands quickly found his half-hard member, swift movements as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. His hand kept firm on the back of your head, holding you close to his as he ravish on your mouth, while the other went to your thigh, raising your dress to the waistline before slapping it harshly, making you jolt and moan against his mouth. A smirk could be felt as he slapped your ass one more time, pulling your hair, parting your lips, before smacking it once more, a glint in his eyes as he watched your whole body tremble.

He quickly moves you to the bed, pushing you down as his lips meet yours once more, your hands moving to his hair as one of his keeps holding your neck, the other quickly parting your legs as he pressed his knee to your clothed core, the hand holding your hips in place as you instinctively you started moving slowly as he restrain your movements from the grip on your hip making you whimper against his mouth.

“Please, please Hwa, I need — argh!” You complain as you feel the pressure of his knee against your clit, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Please fuck me, please Hwa, I need you to —”

“I said I’d put you in your place, not take orders from you, I’m sure you know the difference, right?” He hovered over you as he finished saying that, his hand previously on your hips going up under your dress to pinch your nipple making you whine and throw your head back onto the mattress. “I need an answer, darling,” he said once more, his lips hovering against yours as he forced you to look at him, his other hands massaging your breast as he pressured your clit once more, making you move your hips searching for friction, only making him chuckle. “Be a good girl and answer my question and you’ll get to cum, although I do like to play with my food before eating it, makes it even more delicious to watch you come undone on my tongue.”

“Fucking hell,” you breath as you saw the smirk and watched his eyes fall to your parted lips, as the friction with his knee helped a little, but only made your insides burn with the need to have him inside you. “Yes, I-I know the difference, now ple-please touch me, please, Hwa.”

“Looks like you know how to beg, that’s cute,” he said before both his hands found your dress, pulling it over your head, exposing the majority of your body, the only covered part being the place you wanted him the most. “Time to grant your wish, darling.”

His lips quickly started a trail of wet open kisses down your neck, one of his hands holding your waist, the other playing with your nipple, pitching it as the other was finally met with Seonghwa’s mouth as he sucked in and played with the nipple, both with his tongue when he wouldn’t let marks over your chest. The lust in his eyes only got darker as he saw the marks embellishing your skin.

“Hwa, please… It hurts,” you whimper as you move your hips quickly against his leg, making him chuckle as he starts to kiss down your stomach, kneeling before you, siren eyes locked on you. “I’ve been good, now please fuck me.”

Although you did plead, your voice carried a hint of demand that made Seonghwa arched his brows and smirked as his hands spread your legs wider. You lifted your upper body, resting it on your elbows as you wanted to see the sight of Seonghwa’s head between your legs, as you have imagined and dreamed about it so many times before, only to groan when he kissed your inner thigh, neglecting the heat coming from your clothed folds.

“Patience comes for those who wait, darling, and I rush for no one,” his voice was laced with lust and a hint of a challenge, making you bite your lip, knowing if you pushed his rules, he might leave you high and dry. His smirk grew as he realized you caught up with his hint. “I knew you were a good girl, a brat even, but good to know you can be easily tamed,” his lips touched your damped panties right above your clit making you jolt and curse under your breath. “Now, lay down on the bed and let me have my fun with you, okay, darling?”

Before you could do as he said, his lips found your clothes core making you throw your head back with a moan, feeling his hands moving and pulling your panties to the side, his lips finding your sensitive clit making you jolt as he chuckled at your reaction, tip of his tongue touching your clit as he ravish on the sight of you squirming on his bed. Your hands quickly found his hair pulling it to you, which he obliged for the time being.

As his lips enveloped and sucked your clit, his fingers that were parting your legs found your core, coming up and down your entrance, making you jolt and clench around nothing as he would never put them in too much.

“Fuck Hwa, please please please please,” you squirmed already feeling tears fill your eyes as you looked down at him. “Fucking hell,” you said once more as your eyes met, the siren lustful eyes that you only dreamed of having between your legs before feeling his tongue play with your clit as two fingers enter you, making you throw your head back and arch your back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

You screamed as you felt the build up in your stomach, only for him to stop completely before you feel his hands tanking off you panties before hovering over you, kissing your lips once more as his fingers played with your slit before entering you and curling inside, his thumb pressing on your clit as you moaned against Seonghwa’s lips, cussing and begging at the same time, as all you wish was to cum.

“My fingers or mouth, darling?”

“Both.”

“Greedy little darling, unfortunately you can only pick one,” you open your mouth to complain but only a moan escapes as he adds another finger making you squirm under him. “Choose now, or you won't have any.”

“Mouth.”

You say breathlessly as he lowers himself so his lips hover over yours. “Good girl.”

His lips are soon connected to your clit once more as his fingers leave you making you whine at the loss and clench around nothing as he quickly starts to ravish on your cunt. His tongue enters you in places you never thought it would be possible as his nose flickers on your sensitive clit making you tug on his hair as moans, curses and Soenghwa’s name leave your mouth at each strip he licks and each time his tongue enters your core.

“Fuck Hwa, so good, fucking god—”

“Cum for me darling, I want you to cum on my tongue, only then I’ll fill you up, so be a good girl and listen to what I say.”

You could barely process what he said as the build up in your stomach became too much, as you tried to push Seonghwa away as the stimulation started to become too great but he didn’t pull away, smirking at how much you squirmed because of his mouth. As heat flushed through your body making you numb, Seonghwa took his type to lick you clean watching you jolt from how sensitive you were before hovering above you once more.

“You ready for my cock, darling?” You just nodded as you watched him smirk, going for a condom that was in his drawer, quickly putting it on before positioning himself at your entrance. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you to fuck me senseless, Park Seonghwa.”

“My pleasure, my darling.”

At that he thrusts fully into you, holding your hips in place, keeping steady as he watched you, wondering if it was okay for him to move. Once you started to breathe again and your hand met his forearm as the other went for your breast, he smiled and started to move. Steady at first, watching how your facial expressions would change, playing with your body as he wanted to see what would make you tic, what would bring the sweetest sound from your mouth, but most importantly, what would make you come back to his bed.

“Fuck Hwa, yes, please, just like — argh fuck, YES!”

You couldn’t care less if someone was listening, if you had to take the walk of shame tomorrow, if this was only a one night stand, how you’d face Seonghwa once more if that was the case, none of it matter, all it mattered was how well he was rearranging your organs as his fingers sank into the flesh of your hip and he’d pull you towards him.

“Is my greedy little darling enjoying my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes fucking yes.”

Seonghwa smiled at your words as one of his hands left your hip to find your clit, making you scream the moment he started to put pressure there, feeling you clench around him, his eyes closing as he could only think about making you cum on his cock, think about hearing you moan like that once more for him. As he felt his own orgasm coming closer, his other hand went for your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you roll your eyes back as his thumb still moved slowly on your clit as his thrusts became erratic.

“Cum for me darling, cum on my cock like the good slut you are, yes?”

And that was enough to push you over the edge as you screamed, arching your back as you creamed around his cock, feeling his thrusts start to slow down before his last thrust kept steady inside you as you knew he had emptied himself. His hand on your clit went to the mattress as the one on your neck found your cheeks caressing it lightly before he locked your lips together.

“So that just happened.”

He chuckled at your words, making you laugh as well, before he looked at you with the boba eyes you knew so well on certain occasions.

“I’m gonna pull out, okay?” You nodded whining at the loss of his cock as you watched him take the condom out and toss it on the trash as he got a cloth to clean you up, surprising you a little, bringing a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Are you okay?” He asked as he carefully cleaned you up, eyeing you with concerned eyes when you hissed a little and he quickly apologized.

“It’s okay, Hwa, don’t worry about it,” you comment, trying to get up already looking for your clothes, only to have Seonghwa hold you by the arm as your legs failed you. “I’m fine, I’ll be okay in a bit, just —”

“Lay down,” it wasn’t a request although it sounded like it coming from his mouth, by how careful he said it. “You are not leaving this room, we will sleep and then talk about it tomorrow, unless you are uncomfortable —”

“It’s fine I— I thought you’d want me to leave since…”

“I’m a little cold, yes, but not that cold. I could never make a girl leave my room right after something like this, especially if that girl is you.” Your breath hitched and Seonghwa smiled at you. “Now, let’s go lay down, do you want one of my shirts to sleep on, darling?”

You nodded, smiling at him as you sat back on the bed, as Seonghwa smiled at you handing you a shirt and boxers, which you thanked as he pulled the covers after putting shorts himself and laying next to you in bed.

“Thank you, Seonghwa.”

“No need to thank me,” he kissed your temple pulling you closer to him on the bed, his hands playing with your hair as he noticed you drifting to dreamland, chuckling lightly. “Goodnight, my darling.”

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡ @illusionnet ♡ @blossomnet ♡

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

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goldfades · 1 month ago

Text

surprise! | JOE BURROW⁹ [002]

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.8k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had just come back from your honeymoon in barbados, you may have had a little too much fun. when you see the faint lines in the little white stick, your whole world flipped on its axis.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hurt to comfort, maisie being the bff we all want, joe being a little bitch but very much redeeming himself, accidental pregnancy

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐓, a sharp contrast to the warmth lingering from the honeymoon sun still clinging to your skin. The little white stick in your hand shakes as you hold it up to the light, as if a change in perspective might make the impossible go away.

Two lines.

Not one. Not a faint maybe. Two.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, though the words barely make it past your lips. Your stomach churns, a cocktail of disbelief and panic swirling with the remnants of the overpriced airport mimosa you’d barely finished that morning.

You set the test down on the counter, its presence looming over you like it’s about to sprout arms and legs and start screaming mommy. The mirror stares back at you with wide eyes and a flushed face, betraying the calm you’re desperately trying—and failing—to summon.

This wasn’t in the plan. Not yet, anyway. Sure, you and Joe had tossed the idea around like kids dreaming about what they’d do if they won the lottery. Someday, you’d both said, voices warm with the kind of certainty that comes with knowing someday was still miles away. Except now it wasn’t. Now, someday had packed its bags, booked an early flight, and was knocking on your front door with a freaking plus sign in tow.

Your phone buzzes against the counter, breaking the spell. A message from Joe. You grab it with shaky hands, hoping it’ll say practice is running late because you’re not ready to face him—not yet.

“Just finished. Home in 20. Love you.”

Your throat tightens. Love you too, you type back, fingers trembling, though it feels like a lie of omission. You toss the phone aside and sink to the floor, staring at the ceiling like it might offer you some divine revelation. It doesn’t.

"Maisie," you mutter, your voice steadier than your heart. You fumble for your phone, pulling up her number with muscle memory born from years of late-night calls about heartbreaks and bad decisions. She picks up on the second ring, because of course she does.

“What’s up, Mama Burrow?” Maisie chirps, the nickname rolling off her tongue like she’d been waiting all week to use it. “You finally settling back into boring married life, or is Joe still parading you around town like he’s the first guy to ever marry someone hot?”

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. A beat of silence stretches long enough for her to pick up on it.

“Uh-oh,” Maisie says, her tone shifting. “What’s wrong?”

“I...” Your voice cracks, and the word sticks in your throat like glue. You take a deep breath, trying to sound normal, but Maisie’s already caught on. She always does.

“Spill it,” she demands, no-nonsense now.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The words feel foreign, clumsy, like they don’t belong to you. There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and for a second you think Maisie might actually have dropped the phone.

“Holy shit,” she finally says. “Are you sure?”

You glance at the test on the counter, its little pink lines glaring back at you like a smug toddler. “Pretty sure.”

Maisie whistles low. “Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. Deep breaths. Are you freaking out? You sound like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m definitely freaking out.”

Maisie’s sharp inhale is audible even through the speaker. “Alright, first things first—how the hell did this happen? And don’t give me the when two people love each other very much spiel.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your free hand rubbing at your temples. “Maisie, I don’t know! Everything was so... perfect on the honeymoon, and I guess we weren’t exactly strict about—”

“Girl,” she interrupts, “did you honeymoon baby yourself into a panic attack right now?”

“Maybe!” you squeak, voice climbing an octave. You glance at the test again, as if its tiny, pastel-pink lines might have disappeared in the past thirty seconds. No such luck. “Oh God, Maisie, I don’t know how to tell Joe. This was not in the playbook.”

Maisie snorts. “You mean Joe’s playbook? The one he probably memorized while you were still deciding on your wedding shoes?”

You groan, dragging your knees up to your chest as you sit on the floor, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder. “I’m serious! He’s going to come home and think we’re on the same page about unpacking, settling in, maybe rescuing a dog before we even think about—” You choke on the word. It’s too big. Too real.

“Parenting,” Maisie finishes for you, voice softer now. “Hey, listen at me—well, pretend you’re looking at me.”

“I’m on the floor, Maisie. I can’t even listen at myself right now.”

“Drama queen,” she mutters, then clears her throat. “Okay, listen. Joe Burrow is, like, the definition of cool under pressure. Super Bowls. Heisman speeches. The guy even pulled off that stupid cigar picture—”

“It was kind of hot,” you admit weakly.

“Exactly my point. If anyone’s going to handle surprise baby news like a champ, it’s him.”

You press the heel of your hand to your chest, trying to calm your heart, which feels like it’s attempting a touchdown dance. “But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?”

Maisie scoffs. “Girl, you’ve been ready since we were, like, fourteen and you made me play house with you and pretend our dolls had perfect marriages.”

“That was your idea,” you mumble, cheeks flushing despite yourself.

“Details,” she says breezily. “Point is, you love Joe, right? And he loves you. Like, disgustingly so. This is just... an early plot twist in your love story.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, her words seeping in despite the chaos in your head. “A plot twist,” you echo softly.

“Exactly. You guys are basically the rom-com of the century. This is the part where you freak out, but then you tell him, and he gives you that stupidly dreamy look he always gives you, and everything’s fine. Better than fine. It’s Burrow-level fine.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, shaky but genuine, and for a moment, the knot in your chest loosens. Maisie always has this way of dragging you back from the ledge, even if it’s with an eye roll and a smack of reality.

“Okay,” you say finally, exhaling. “Okay. You’re right. I can do this.”

“Damn straight, you can.” There’s a pause, and then Maisie’s voice is smug. “You’re not gonna, like, practice how to tell him, are you?”

“I might.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up, Maisie.”

Her laugh is warm, grounding, and you lean your head back against the cabinet, clutching the phone like a lifeline. The thought of Joe walking through that door still sends your stomach into somersaults, but Maisie’s words cling to you like armor.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” she adds softly after a moment.

Your throat tightens again, but this time, it’s different—like the panic is starting to make room for something else. Something softer.

“Thanks, Maisie,” you whisper, voice cracking.

“Anytime. Now go splash some water on your face before Joe comes home and thinks you’ve been crying over a pet shelter commercial or something.”

“I don’t do that!” you protest weakly.

Maisie snorts. “Sure you don’t. Call me after you tell him, okay? I’ll be waiting with popcorn.”

You hang up, her voice still echoing in your ear, and stand on shaky legs. The test is still there on the counter, quiet and unassuming, like it didn’t just upend your entire universe.

You stare at it for a moment longer, then glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes until Joe walks through the door. Fifteen minutes to figure out how to tell him the most life-changing news of your lives.

No pressure.

And like clockwork, fifteen minutes pass and the door creaks open. You immediately straighten up from where you’re perched on the edge of the couch, legs tucked underneath you. You’ve spent the past fifteen minutes trying to look casual, which is surprisingly difficult when your insides feel like they’ve been twisted into a pretzel.

Joe steps into the house, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his usually confident posture slightly slumped. His hair is damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and the moment you catch sight of his expression, your rehearsed speech evaporates into thin air.

“Hey,” you call softly, plastering on a smile. “How was practice?”

Joe groans in response, dropping his bag by the door and toeing off his sneakers with more force than usual. He doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair and flops onto the armchair across from you, his long legs sprawling out in exhaustion.

“Terrible,” he finally says, dragging the word out like it’s physically painful.

Your stomach sinks. This is not the Joe you were expecting to walk into the room. You were braced for smiles, maybe a kiss hello, and definitely a much lighter mood. But this version of him—frustrated, clearly in need of venting—throws all your plans into chaos.

“Terrible?” you echo, hoping he’ll elaborate so you can stall a little longer.

“Terrible,” he repeats, throwing his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. “Nothing clicked today. The line wasn’t holding, the receivers were off, and I couldn’t hit a damn target to save my life. It’s like the entire offense forgot how to play football overnight.”

His voice is tight, his usual even-keeled tone replaced by an edge of irritation. You watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose, the familiar gesture making your heart ache a little. He’s so rarely like this—usually the calm in any storm—but when he does get frustrated, it hits hard.

You shift on the couch, unsure of what to say. Normally, you’d jump in with words of reassurance, tell him it’s just one bad day and he’ll bounce back like he always does. But right now, your mind is too preoccupied with the secret still tucked away behind your lips.

“You okay?” he asks suddenly, cracking one eye open to look at you.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Me? Oh! Yeah. Totally fine. Why?”

Joe squints at you, like he’s trying to read something between the lines, but after a moment, he lets it drop. Maybe he’s too tired to push. Maybe you’re better at faking normal than you thought. Either way, he slouches further into the chair, his head lolling to the side.

“I’m just over it,” he mutters. “Sometimes it feels like everything has to be perfect, you know? Like, I can’t afford to have a bad day. Not with the season coming up. Not with everything riding on me.”

The weight in his words makes your chest tighten. You know he puts so much pressure on himself, even when no one else is. It’s one of the things you love about him—his determination, his drive—but hearing it like this makes you want to wrap him in a hug and take some of that burden off his shoulders.

Instead, you sit there silently, because your secret feels like a tangible wall between you, keeping you from saying what you really want to.

Joe lets out a humorless laugh. “Can you imagine throwing a kid into the mix right now?” He shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “I’d lose my mind.”

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t mean anything by it. You know that. He’s venting, speaking off the cuff, probably not even thinking about what he’s saying. But the words hit you like a brick anyway, sharp and unyielding, and suddenly your palms feel clammy against the soft fabric of your leggings.

You manage a small laugh—weak and wobbly, but hopefully passable. “Yeah, that’d be... a lot.”

Joe doesn’t notice the crack in your voice. He stands, stretching his arms over his head with a groan before glancing down at you. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Try to shake off the rest of this day.”

“Good idea,” you say quickly, nodding like a bobblehead.

He leans down to kiss your forehead—a brief, automatic gesture that still makes your heart flutter despite the weight in your chest—and then heads toward the stairs, his footsteps heavy against the wood.

The moment he disappears, you sag against the couch, letting out a shaky exhale you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes dart to the bathroom down the hall, where the pregnancy test is still tucked away in a drawer like some kind of incriminating evidence.

What are you supposed to do now? How do you tell him something this big when he’s clearly already carrying so much?

You pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as your mind races. Part of you wants to march upstairs, blurt it out, and deal with the fallout. But another part—the louder, more terrified part—wants to bury the news under a mountain of throw pillows and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Joe’s words echo in your mind, sharp and unshakable. I’d lose my mind.

Maybe Maisie was wrong. Maybe this plot twist wasn’t something Joe was ready for. Maybe you weren’t ready for it, either.

And yet, deep down, you know you can’t keep this to yourself forever. This isn’t just your story to tell; it’s his, too.

You just have to figure out how.

┈┈┈

The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the kitchen, warm and inviting, a small comfort in the midst of the chaos swirling inside your head. You’re standing at the counter in your robe, staring at the dark liquid as it pours into your mug, willing the caffeine to work its magic and steady your nerves.

Maisie’s already at the table, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone as she sips from her own cup. She’d shown up at 7 a.m. sharp, a whirlwind of energy even in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, the perfect distraction from the tangled mess of your thoughts.

“So,” Maisie says, finally looking up. “Did you tell him?”

Your heart skips a beat. You turn back to the coffee maker, suddenly fascinated by the machine’s little blinking light. “Not... exactly.”

Maisie groans, setting her phone down with an exaggerated thud. “Girl. What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? That was the whole point of last night!”

“I tried,” you say defensively, glancing over your shoulder. “But he came home in a mood, and it just didn’t feel like the right time.”

Maisie gives you a look—a mix of sympathy and exasperation that only a best friend can pull off. “Okay, but there’s never going to be a perfect time. You know that, right? You just have to rip off the Band-Aid.”

Before you can reply, you hear the familiar creak of the stairs, and your chest tightens. Joe’s footsteps are heavy as he descends, his presence filling the kitchen even before he appears.

When he finally walks in, you can tell immediately that he’s still carrying yesterday’s frustration. His jaw is tight, his hair slightly mussed from sleep, and his movements have that sharp, impatient edge that screams not a morning person.

“Morning,” you say tentatively, hoping the coffee might soften his mood.

Joe grunts in response, heading straight for the counter without sparing a glance in your direction. He grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee, his shoulders hunched as he takes a sip.

Maisie watches him with raised eyebrows, her own cup paused halfway to her lips. “Wow,” she says dryly. “Good morning to you too, Sunshine.”

Joe doesn’t even acknowledge her, his focus fixed on the steam rising from his mug. You wince, already anticipating what’s coming next.

Maisie sets her cup down with a clink, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s your problem?”

Joe finally looks at her, his expression dark. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Uh-huh,” Maisie says, leaning back in her chair. “Because stomping around the kitchen like a grumpy giant definitely screams ‘everything’s fine.’”

“Maisie—” you start, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

“No, seriously,” she says, her voice gaining heat. “What’s with the attitude? You’re acting like the world’s ending, and she—” Maisie gestures to you with her free hand, “—is bending over backward trying not to stress you out.”

Joe frowns, glancing at you for the first time that morning. “I’m fine,” he says, but it’s clipped, like he’s trying to end the conversation before it starts.

Maisie narrows her eyes. “Well, maybe you should try being a little more considerate. Especially with her condition.”

The room goes silent.

Your blood runs cold, and Maisie freezes, her face paling as she realizes what she’s just said. You stare at her, wide-eyed, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What condition?” Joe asks slowly, his brows furrowing as he looks between the two of you.

Maisie presses her lips together, looking like she wants to melt into the floor. She flicks her gaze toward you, silently pleading for help, but your mind is too blank to come to her rescue.

Joe’s eyes narrow, his focus shifting entirely to you. “What’s she talking about?”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but no words come out. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, and you can see the wheels turning in Joe’s head as he pieces it together.

“Wait,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you...?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the look on his face says it all. Confusion, realization, and a flicker of something else—something you can’t quite read—flash across his features.

Maisie clears her throat, breaking the tension. “Well,” she says awkwardly, standing up and grabbing her mug. “This feels like a good time for me to leave.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, practically bolting for the door. The sound of it closing behind her echoes through the suddenly too-quiet kitchen.

Joe’s still staring at you, his coffee forgotten on the counter. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it feels like the ground is shifting beneath your feet.

“Is it true?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And just like that, there’s no more hiding.

Your hands tighten around your coffee mug as if it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Joe’s gaze is locked onto you now, his exhaustion melting into something else entirely—a mix of confusion, worry, and a dawning realization that leaves no room for escape.

Your throat is dry, words caught somewhere between your heart and your mouth. The longer you stay silent, the heavier his question hangs in the air.

“Y/N,” he says again, more urgently this time. “Is it true?”

You set your mug down carefully on the counter, afraid it might slip from your trembling hands. His eyes follow the motion, then snap back to yours, searching for confirmation in your expression. You can feel your heartbeat thudding in your ears, loud and insistent, drowning out every coherent thought.

“I—” you begin, your voice cracking. You clear your throat, trying again. “Yes. It’s true.”

Joe takes a step back, blinking as though he’s been physically struck. His hands drop to his sides, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you like he’s trying to process a foreign language.

“I’m pregnant,” you add, the words tumbling out in a rush before you lose your nerve completely.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Joe drags a hand down his face, his features tense and unreadable. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, that the connection you’ve always shared feels out of reach in this moment.

“How long have you known?” he finally asks, his voice low and steady, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

“A few days,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Since we got back from the honeymoon.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I was going to!” you say quickly, stepping closer. “I just—” You falter, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how. And yesterday, you were so upset, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Make things worse?” Joe repeats, his tone incredulous. He sets his own mug down a little too forcefully, the sound making you flinch. “You thought this would make things worse?”

You swallow hard, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “You were so frustrated about practice,” you say, your voice trembling. “And then you said that thing about how everything has to be perfect right now. I didn’t want to drop this on you and have you feel like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “Like I wouldn’t want this?”

Your breath hitches, and you look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly.

The room feels too small, the air thick with the weight of everything unspoken. Joe runs a hand through his hair, his frustration giving way to something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice gentler now, “I’m not mad that you’re pregnant. I’m mad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. That you thought I wouldn’t be ready for something like this.”

You glance up at him, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you say, your voice cracking. “I was scared. This wasn’t part of the plan, Joe. We just got married. We’re still figuring things out. And I know how much pressure you’re under right now—I didn’t want to add to it.”

He exhales slowly, stepping closer until he’s standing right in front of you. His hands find yours, pulling them away from where they’re wringing the hem of your robe. His grip is warm, grounding, and you cling to it like a lifeline.

“Look,” he says, his voice steady now. “I won’t lie—I wasn’t expecting this either. And yeah, it’s not perfect timing. But when has anything in our life ever gone exactly according to plan?”

You let out a shaky laugh, and he smiles, just a little, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“We’ve always figured things out together,” he continues. “This isn’t any different. It’s just... a bigger adjustment. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that there’s nobody I’d rather figure it out with than you.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you feel a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. But this time, they’re not born of fear—they’re from relief, from the overwhelming love that’s been there all along, even in the moments of doubt.

Joe reaches up, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “We’ve got this, okay?” he says softly.

You nod, a small smile breaking through despite the storm of emotions still swirling inside you. “Okay.”

And for the first time in days, you believe it.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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lymtw · 4 months ago

Note

Hi ! This is my first time requesting something on Tumblr and I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are could you please write something about Toji where f!reader is his girlfriend (long term) and she gets in a small argument with young megumi in which he says she's not his mom (which she isn't, but she still kinda raised him with Toji). She gets sad and Toji comforts her and maybe scolds megumi and it's fluffy at the end ?

I hope it's not too confusing 😅 and if you don't want to do it it's completely okay ! I really like the way you write Toji and your works are so good !

A/N: Ngl I actually kinda teared up a little when I was thinking out the scenario for this. Don't judge me, it was like 2am-ish lol. This prompt is so good 😭🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji could hear bickering coming from outside your shared bedroom, familiar voices going back and forth over who knows what in the room next door. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, because he trusted that it would be over soon. You're an adult talking to a kid. Your logic is sharper than Megumi's, so things should be resolved quickly. His eyes shut again, but the arguing wouldn't cease. Who knows how long this has gone on for.

He sighs and blinks his tired eyes open, before getting out of bed to see what all the commotion is about at eight in the morning. He grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and slips it on, over his head, as he walks over Megumi's room. Your voices are much clearer to Toji, now, as he nears the door. He stands by to listen in on what's going on.

"I just organized your room, Megumi. All i'm asking you to do is to put your toys back where they belong when you're not playing with them."

"I am playing with them," the boy says, holding two dinosaur figures. "I'm playing with all of them. I'm gonna go back to the ones over there, right now."

You sigh. The argument has been looping this way for too long. It feels pointless to argue with a child, yet you're still doing it because deep down, it irks you to have put in so much effort to keep his space clean, just for him to trash it the second he occupies the room, again.

"Let's see." You start looking around the floor for toys you know for certain he hasn't been playing with. "You're not playing with this plushie or this car. This slinky isn't being used either and it's gonna get tangled if you don't put it somewhere safe."

The boy groans, tired of hearing you list off things you see out of place on the floor. He goes back to playing with the dinosaurs in his hands, blocking out your voice.

"Megumi, are you even listening to me?" You ask, setting some of the smaller toys you collected off the floor onto the top of his dresser.

"I don't want to and I don't have to," he utters, carelessly, not even sparing you a glance. "You're not my mom, so I don't have to listen to you. Just my dad."

You're stunned by this sudden revelation of his feelings towards you. The argument is over. Megumi was the winner because he got you to back off, but at what cost? Your heart weighed a ton after what he said. You had nothing else to say to him in that moment, so you let go of your end of the tug of war rope.

Toji hears your footsteps nearing the door and makes himself known by appearing as you're heading out.

"Hey." He attempts to grab your attention, but you don't even look at him. You pat his chest twice and leave the room. He takes a step out of the room, calling for you once more as you get farther away from him. "Ma." All he gets is a thumbs up from you as you keep walking, an indication of how you're not emotionally stable enough to respond verbally.

Toji sighs, briefly watching Megumi, who still hasn't stopped playing with his toys. He's completely unaware of what just went down.

He steps further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to his mini.

"Megs, that wasn't cool." He receives a hum in response. "Why would you say something like that?"

Megumi's hands still. He briefly looks at his dad before resuming what he was doing. "Like what? I was just in here, playing with my toys," he says, feigning innocence, not knowing that Toji had been listening.

"I heard what you said and it wasn't nice at all. She's always been good to you."

"But what I said is true," he exclaims, his expressive, green eyes widening, defensively.

"Okay, let's calm down. I'm not raising my voice, am I?"

Megumi slowly shakes his head. He puts down the dinosaur toys and crosses his legs, folding his hands in his lap.

"I want you to look at it this way," Toji starts, looking around at the room you were once so proud of for returning to a pristine state, now cluttered with various toys and clothes. "She's always been here for you. She takes care of you when I have to go to work, she reads to you before bed, she wakes up to make you breakfast. You like when she makes breakfast, right?"

The boy nods. "I like when she makes dog shaped pancakes."

"Yeah, me too. You think she's gonna wanna be around and make dog shaped pancakes for us if you talk to her like that?"

Megumi shakes his head. "No, but she wouldn't stop telling me to clean up my toys when I told her that i'm still playing with them."

"Well, I only see you playing with this little pool of toys, here on the bed. Everything else is just scattered all over the place. You know she worked hard to clean this place up, right?"

"Mm... yeah," he responds, coyly.

"You're like a tornado, Megs," he says, causing the fluffy-haired boy to laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty funny, huh?" Megumi keeps laughing while nodding which makes Toji crack a grin.

"I'm sorry," Megumi mumbles, once he settles down. He looks down at the palm of his hand, tracing the lines on it with his thumb.

"That's not for me to hear, kid," Toji says, setting a hand on his head.

"But, i'm scared to tell her. What if she's mad at me?" He turns his head to look at his dad, eyes darting between matching green eyes and the scar that mars his lips.

"Nah, she loves you too much to ever get mad at you. How 'bout I go see what she's doing, and you draw something to give to her? When you're ready to give her your drawing, you can come out, yeah?"

"Okay." Megumi nods. "I'll go out there when i'm ready."

"Alright. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too, dad," he responds, a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

Toji leaves him to it, leaving the door slightly ajar when he exits the room. He immediately directs himself towards you. You didn't hide or hole up in the room, instead you went to the couch. Toji sits next to you, watching you scroll through your phone.

"Hey, you good?" He asks, watching your face as you turn your screen off and shift your attention to him.

You sigh. "Yeah, it's fine. It's not like he lied."

"Don't say that. You know he's wrong." He puts a hand on your knee, squeezing comfortingly. "He's still a brat that doesn't know the weight of his words. Thinks he can just fire out things like that and move on like it's nothing. As long as i'm here, he won't get away with saying ridiculous things like that to you."

"Yeah," you say, still sounding disheartened.

"I talked to him about it. The kid was just pissed that you called him out for the mess he made. He just wanted to be right, with zero logical thoughts in that head."

You nod, not wanting to say anything more about it. Everything Toji said was correct, but you still felt like you were tossed aside, in that moment. Like you were a puzzle piece that didn't fit into their family.

"Don't be bummed about it, baby. You know he loves you, and remember, he has called you 'mom' before."

That brings a smile to your face. You remember how shy he got after realizing what he said. The word slipped out so naturally. You treated him like you normally do, but on the inside you were all giddy and proud to be considered a maternal figure by him.

"There you go. There's that pretty smile," Toji says, grinning as he pulls you close.

"Stop," you say, blushing when he starts peppering your face with kisses. You giggle when he starts chasing your lips, eventually giving you the warm, comforting kisses he wanted to give you.

You push his face away when you hear the door to Megumi's room creak, followed by Megumi himself. He takes slow steps out of the hallway and when he sees you and Toji staring at him, he gets nervous. All the attention is on him so he diverts his gaze and looks down at the floor until he's standing in front of you two. His face is red and his hands are behind his back. Toji knows what he's hiding and he smiles.

"What's up, Megs?" You ask, when he just stands there, silently.

He shifts on his feet, looking at you and then at his dad, before looking at you once more. His arms come forward and his hands shakily extend a folded piece of paper towards you.

"For me?" You ask, enthusiastically, to which he nods before looking down at his feet, again. You unfold the paper and take in the whole page of bright colors. Toji looks at it over your shoulder, a soft smile resting on his face when he sees the genuine effort that was put into the page. The first thing you notice is the big 'I'm sorry' written in his jagged and uneven handwriting, followed by a heart that you can tell he redrew multiple times based on the faded outlines behind it. There's a drawing of two simplistic dogs and what looks like the flowers you put on the dinner table. There are three stick figures that resemble you, Toji, and Megumi. You smile when you see that he didn't miss Toji's scar. He used the top corner of the page to draw the sun and there are different colored stars all over the place.

"Aw, I love it! Can I keep it forever?" You ask, smiling when you look at his adorable blush-y expression.

"Yeah, I made it for you," he mumbles, shiny eyes looking back at you.

You fold the paper, carefully, making sure to follow along the crease he already made, and set it down beside you.

"Can I have a hug?" You ask, reaching your arms out. He nods and makes his way over to you, his small arms coming up short as they wrap around you. Your embrace envelops him entirely. He's nonexistent in your hold because of how small he is. You squeeze him a little tighter, causing him to giggle at the gesture. "Love you soooo much, Megs." Before you release him, you give him a small peck on the cheek. "How about some pancakes for breakfast?"

"Can you make them in the shapes of dogs, again?" He asks, tapping his foot, excitedly.

"Of course, I can," you respond, and he gets even more excited.

"Dad! D-Dad! Dad! She's gonna make dog shaped pancakes, dad!"

"Yeah, I heard," Toji responds, a dumb grin on his face. "You should help her out, today."

"Okay," Megumi says, before sprinting to the kitchen.

"I should go help him before he gets the kitchen messy, too," you say, rising from the couch when the boy quickly vanishes.

"Hey, come here," Toji says, pulling you back by your wrist. You're pulled down for some quick kisses, a continuation of the session that was interrupted earlier.

"Love you, doll," he says, his eyes flitting between your starry ones and that smile that makes him weak.

"Love you." He doesn't let go of your hand until the link breaks, once you're out of his reach.

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0-n-1-x · 4 months ago

Text

WBC!Carl Gallagher x Rich/Northside!reader

link to my masterlist <33

Your private school requires you to do community service, and you’re assigned to help out at a youth center in the Southside. It’s far from your usual environment, and you feel a bit out of place, but you’re determined to make the best of it. You could've gone to the pet center, like the other girls your age, but you desperately needed to get out of suburbia. Carl, who occasionally visits the center for free meals or to hang out, notices you the moment you walk in. You’re clearly not from around here, and he’s instantly curious about why someone like you would be spending time in his hood. At first, Carl’s interactions with you are laced with sarcasm and teasing. He pokes fun at your clean-cut appearance and the way you seem so out of your element, but there’s no real malice behind his words— mostly curiosity. I mean remember this is still Carl, just in the body of a wanna-be gangster

You actually responded to his quips just as quickly as he spoke them, but you also spoke with interest, most of it in your appearance

I'd believe that you aren't full a nepo baby, I like to headcanon that you'd be half or part southside, having spent time there young and maybe one of your parents married rich and such

But you do know how to make your words somewhat powerful, and that intrigues Carl, in a different way than trying to scam the other kids

You’re organizing supplies in the back room of the community center, stacking boxes of canned goods for the food drive. It’s your second day volunteering here, and you’re still getting used to the place. The door creaks open, and you glance up to see the same boy from yesterday leaning against the frame, watching you with an amused smirk. “You lost or something? This isn’t exactly the country club.” he says. Crossing his arms, he saunters into the room, eyes glinting with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you straighten up, brushing the dust off your hands before replying

“I could say the same thing. You don’t look like you’re here to volunteer.”

“Nah, just checking out the new blood. It’s not every day we get someone like you around here. You sure you can handle it? This place can get a little rough.”

“I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I’m not here to play it safe.”

“Is that right? Most people like you wouldn’t last a day down here. You must really be slumming it to end up in this part of town.”

“Real, huh? Well, you definitely found it. But be careful—get too close, and this place might suck you in.”

“Maybe I’m counting on it. I like a challenge, I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”

He grins, finally extending a hand "Gallagher, Carl Gallagher" You reach for his hand, “Nice to meet you, Carl. Now, are you gonna help me with these boxes, or just stand there and look all pretty?”

After a few days of volunteering, (its mostly you guys talking) he invites you out with him on a 'tour'. You visit The Alibi, his corner, and he ends the trip by taking you to his house

The Gallagher house, if you could call it that, was way different than yours. Not just in size, but in functionality, you hear 3 different people screaming talking and a baby crying with loud video games noises in the background. Luckily, when Carl takes you to the basement which of course resembles what you identify as a 'mancave' there's no one there and its mostly silent

"So.. nice family uh- ya got there?" you joke, slightly uncomfortable in the bean bag he sits you on, the pleats of your plaid skirt ruffling up and you don't miss the way his eye flicker down and the way his cheeks blush peach "Um, y-yeah, it's not always like that but it usually is"

For Carl: it's weird that he's drawn to you, southside kids are literally raised to the 'eat the rich' mindset. Especially Gallaghers, but he couldn't help but want to spill everything he knows and even what he doesn't to you. So he does, he tells you about juvie, about the dysfunctionality of Gallaghers and their shit, fuck he even tells you about Monica

You guys talk for what comes across as hours. Part of him is scared that he opened up to quickly, but surprisingly you listen, without judgement. You even mention how you find some of his life similar to yours. The feelings of being ignored, or in your case paid to go away (which Carl finds not too bad).

As you speak, he moves from his beanbag chair to yours, inching and inching closer together you eventually are a breaths away from one another. You halt your speech, all your well thought out analogies fading away as you both look between the other's eyes and lips.

Carl speaks, "is it crazy.. that I find it really hot when you talk about being rich?" you pause, a sly smile reaching upon your face as you answer "no.. is it crazy that i find it really hot when you talk about being poor?"

More silence fills the room, then Carl brings his eyes straight down to your lips. "No" he whispers, as light as humanly possible

And that's when it happens. you lean in, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble image he usually projects. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. The kiss starting out rushed, messy, and all over the place. But it's not lustful, more childish if anything and you both have no idea what you're doing.

His hand hesitantly moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You respond in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him even closer

When you finally pull back after what feels like forever, you’re both breathless, panting as your bodies gasp for air. Carl’s thumb gently returns and strokes your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all he finds is a soft smile and the lingering warmth of the kiss you just shared.

“Damn,” he mutters, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly, still keeping you close. “You’ve got me all messed up, you know that?" you respond

Then it hits you, that was your first kiss

and it was with Carl fucking Gallagher

#carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher #carl gallagher x you #carl gallagher x y/n #carl gallagher x female reader #shameless #shameless us #shameless x reader #Spotify

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prettiedup · 6 months ago

Note

hello!!! i hope ur having a lovely day! <3

i would like to request a nanami fic. maybe using the one bed trope??

thank you! XOXO

nanami has always preferred to do things alone. living, cooking, sleeping, organizing, everything needs to be done precisely and in his preferred way. working was also something he enjoyed doing on his lonesome. the way nanami moved was meticulous and it left no room for error. he enjoyed taking his time to learn his footwork and his abilities. as dreadful as being a sorcerer is, he has to find enjoyment in the littlest things.

“nami! i can’t open this!” you’re pouting and groaning in irritation while you struggle to open your can of cola. he glances to his side, you’re trying to use the tips of your fingers instead of your nails due to them being so long and squared.

“i told you to stop getting them so long.” he’s grumbling while taking one hand off of the steering wheel to open the can for you. once you hear the satisfying pop, a bright smile plays onto your pretty lips.

“thank you, nami!” you smile excitedly while taking the can back.

he didn’t reply, only giving you a hum to let you know he heard you. you’re a nice girl, you remind him of something sweet. your personality is so bubbly and energizing, something nanami is completely polar of. even after months of working with you as both his partner and your mentor, he could never get used to you. you’re like a sweet slap in the face, he had stigmatized that the earth is cruel and evil years ago. and then here you go, prancing around all pink and glittery.

when he first saw you, he thought you were a teenager, to give you some lead way; fresh out of high school. his eyebrows almost touched his hairline when he learned that you were actually well into your 20’s. you’re just a few years younger than him. he remembers complaining to yaga, to the higher ups, he was even so devastated that he found it in him to complain to gojo.

“i’ve never needed a partner. i sure as hell don’t need one now.” he told gojo as he downed his fourth shot of whiskey. “and一and she’s just so fuckin’ opposite.” he complained. his pale cheeks were flushed red and there were small beads of sweat formed around his hairline.

gojo has his infamous smirk on his lips as he listens to his ‘friend’ rant. “maybe that’s what you need, kento.” gojo tells him, honestly. “a reminder that you’re not even goddamn 30 yet. live a little.”

if they wanted him to live a little they should’ve given him a vacation to the beach or something of that sort. that’s how nanami sees it, anyway.

while you are just the sweetest thing, you sometimes are a lot to deal with. your attention span is too short, you become emotional when things don’t go your way, and you shut down too easily. nanami finds himself having to pick up the pieces alot when it comes to you. especially with you two being partners and the missions can sometimes be months long. something so delicate, hosts something so fiery inside. he’s seen you during battle. when a curse is taking too long to exterminate, when a mission drags on longer than told, when you accidentally break a nail from punching too hard. all those things tie together and create an absolute beast. he had almost felt foolish for doubting you the first time the two of you had gone on your first official mission together.

“nami.” your soft voice rings through his ears. he had a bad habit of zoning out, especially while driving. it’s become habitual to call out his name every now and then to make sure he’s actually focused.

“i’m here.” those two words carry two meanings as he pulls into the hotel parking lot.

the two of you step out of the car. you stand beside nanami, watching as he pulls out his solid black duffel bag along with your hello kitty duffle bag. you continue mindlessly sipping on your coke even while he has to use his hip to close the door because his hands are full.

“you’re too good to carry your own bag?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“yup.” you make sure to pop the p. he can only glare at you. with a bright, unaffected smile, you blissfully ignore his intense, piercing glare and walk towards the entrance of the hotel. you stride confidently, with nanami towing closely behind you.

you walk up to the front desk and begin talking to the receptionist. she appears noticeably young, perhaps younger than both of you. her face is dotted with a variety of moles, along with a few faint acne scars. her upturned hazel-green eyes are striking, despite the dark circles beneath them. the contrast between her youthful features and the weariness in her gaze has you intrigued. you were a complete sucker for pretty girls.

“we do have one more room available, but there’s only one bed.” she tells you two. her eyes sweep between the two of you hesitantly as she breaks the news.

both you and nanami freeze at her. usually, you would both get your own rooms and meet back up in the morning. instantly, there’s a pout on your face. the cheerfulness and confidence you once walked into the lobby with is quickly gone.

“how far away is the next closest hotel?” you ask.

“about forty minutes.” she replies.

you look behind you, at nanami; who seems to be calculating something. “what are we gonna do, nami?” you’re frowning and your tone holds a silver of frustration.

“we’re going to take the room. i get the bed and you get the couch.” is all he says. he steps up to give her the money.

minutes later the both of you are walking to your designated hotel room. nanami holds a look of nonchalance while you’re all pouty and frowning.

he ignores it, he’s gotten so used to it. he knows your little attitude won’t last forever. something else will soon take your attention and you’ll soon forget about how upset you were seconds ago. once the two of you make it to the door, he slots the keycard inside of the lock and watches the red light flash green. he allows you to walk in first and trails closely behind you.

the room is spacious and inviting, a large king bed lies in the middle of the room, draped in crisp, high thread count linens and a plush, oversized duvet. soft lighting creates a warm ambiance, while large windows offer a stunning view of the cityscape surroundings. in the far corner, a plush, deep set couch padded in soft, rich fabric, inviting everyone to sink into its comfort. the couch is surrounded by a pair of stylish armchairs.

“this is the best room so far!” you’re excitedly bouncing around and touching everything. you can barely stay in one spot before you’re moving onto the next. you open a door that leads to the bathroom. you let out an excited squeal when you see how big the bathroom is. “they have those drop-in bathtub things!”

you skip to nanami and grab you duffel bag out of his hands. “i’m gonna go shower!” you tell nanami before running back inside the bathroom.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

“nami! jus’ lay down! i’ll sleep at the headboard and you sleep at the foot of the bed.” you try to negotiate with the man. this has been going on for a few minutes and you were beginning to grow irritated.

“the couch is fine. it’s big enough and it looks quite comfortable.” he declines.

“i’m gonna cry.” you threaten him.

“are you really going to cry because i prefer the couch?” nanami asks with both amusement and frustration. he was growing tired and wanted nothing more than to lay down at the moment.

“this is a large bed! i won’t be able to forgive myself if you sleep on the couch.” you explain to him.

nanami just sighs and stares at you. you stand there with your arms crossed, not giving up on wanting him to sleep on the bed also.he’s sure that if just goes and lay down on the couch you’d follow him and complain until he caves in to get you to be quiet.

“alright.. alright.” he mumbles as he goes to the foot of the bed, far away from where you’d be laying.

the both of you climb into bed with your backs toward each other. you’re facing the now covered windows while he faces the door.

“g’night, nami.” you tell him sleepily.

“goodnight.” he replies.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

nanami should’ve known. his eyes sleepily flutter open, he could feel your body greedily rubbing against his. your leg is thrown over his so that your clothed cunt could rub against his hardening dick. you’re letting out gaspy moans every time your clit gets captured against the tip of his cock. your face rests in the crook of his neck, dribbles of spit escape past your lips and land on his neck only for you to lap it back up.

“sweetheart..” nanami trails off tiredly. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good but you two had to get up extremely early and when you don’t have enough hours of sleep, you turn into a little demon.

“i-i know.” you whine. “‘s gonna be the last time, n-nami. i jus’ need you.” you sniffle.

everytime is you two have sex you try to reassure nanami that it would be the last time. he knows you’re lying and he can’t tell if you say and genuinely mean it or if you say it to just quiet him down. he should’ve known when you begged him to sleep in the bed with you that you were up to something.

“i need you!” you repeat stubbornly.

he huffs to himself as his fingers slide down under your flimsy shorts. you thumb makes contact with your clit and you’re instantly bucking yourself against his hand instead. you’re so wet, you already have his fingers covered with your arousal.

“don’t wan’ your fingers, nami. wan’ your cock!” you don’t wait for him to reply to your statement. your hands greedily dig into his sweatpants and fish for his cock. when your hands come in contact with his length, he shudders and lets out a low curse.

“greedy girl.” he tsks. he helps you shuffle his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to be freed. “no prep?” he asks in worry. you need it so bad that you’re shaking your head no. you continue to lap at his skin, leaving marks onto him. with shaky hands, nanami tugs your shorts off of your legs and slides your panties to the side. “look at me.”

you raise your head and search for his hardened eyes. the second you two make eye contact, his lips latch onto yours. he hungrily keeps his lips pressed against yours as he lines his thick cock up to your leaking hole. he slowly pushes himself into you, the both of you gasp and moan into each others mouths as you become one.

he doesn’t keep a steady rhythm for long, the second his pelvis slaps against your ass he speeds up. he’s serious about getting some amount of sleep so that you two could be well rested for tomorrow’s mission. he continues to thumb at your clit while he thrusts into you.

“mnghhh! s-shit.” you moan out once the two of you pull away. nanami’s eyes glance down at your spit glossed lips, you look so delicious like this.

“pretty girls don’t curse.” he lectures you.

you can’t think of an insult to throw at his way. all you can do is moan a weak ‘sorry’ and grab at his shoulder. nanami coos at how dumb you’re becoming for him. he uses his other arm to hook it under your leg and bring it up higher. even though the movement is subtle, the change is obvious.

nanami is barely holding up, himself. his skin is flushed red and his hair is sticking down to his head. he’s letting out huffs as he tries to control himself and not cum so fast. it’s hard not to when your pussy is gripping him so tightly.

he looks down and watches as his dick appears and then disappears inside of you repeatedly. he could see strings of your arousal smeared all over both yourself and him.

“fuck.” he mumbles before diving for your lips once again. as much as he wants to finish as soon as possible with how wet and needy you are, he knows you two will be going at it for hours.

#requests ♡#prettiedup ♡#prettiedup’s jjk fics .ᐟ namami #i act enjoy writin 4 nami??? idek dat #ughhh i jus KNOW its super thick 😩#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut

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audliminal · 27 days ago

Text

Survivability Bias Pt 5

Masterpost Ao3

“So hypothetically,” Superboy begins, glancing over at Robin. “Say I met another meta, and they, like, needed a civilian identity...” He trails off, listening intently. Trying to get anything from Robin's expression is pointless - between his skill at maintaining his composure, and the expression obscuring mask, there's not a lot to be read on his face. Instead Superboy focuses on his heartbeat, which speeds up the smallest amount as Robin turns away from the tablet he'd been working with, and settles his full attention directly onto Superboy.

“Hypothetically,” Robin repeats.

“Yeah. You know, in theory, if that ever happened.” Robin stares at Superboy for a moment, presumably reading everything that's missing from his own face in Superboy's.

“Well. In theory, the Justice League has the means to grant any meta hero a full identity. Is this about you? Because honestly it's insane that they haven't bothered yet, and I will straight up make you one right now if you-”

“No, it's not about me,” Superboy interrupts. “But like, you could do that? Without the Justice League’s support, I mean?. Like, say if this hypothetical person really didn't want the Justice League knowing about them?”

“You met a meta who doesn't like the Justice League.”

“I don't think it's really about the Justice League specifically. I mean, they definitely don't exist, but if they did, then I would say that the second I showed up they were bracing for a fight. Like before they even saw who I was.” Robin sets his tablet to the side without looking, and leans just a touch towards Superboy as he talks. It's honestly wild, he thinks, how the other boy can manage such intense eye contact through white lenses, but, well, that's the bats for you.

“Theoretically, I could absolutely make this person an identity, if they did exist. But I would want to meet them first.”

“Cool, cool,” Superboy says leaning back into the couch. “I offered to introduce you and they said they'd consider it. I think, maybe they don't trust adults very much, bc they asked if you were our age.”

“Theoretically?”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Though the specific details as to when the founding member first became acquainted, it was only after multiple incidents of near-worldwide devastation that they realized the necessity of an organized front.

The details of the forming of the Justice League should be fascinating, if only for the revelation that world-ending disasters are, apparently, relatively common in this universe. In a way, it’s a comforting thought. Memories of Dan sit as heavily as ever in Danny’s mind, especially now that he’s effectively lost his family, just like in Dan’s timeline. Of course, here there’s presumably no risk of him getting fused with Vlad, so probably that specific threat isn’t likely, but - well, if it comes to the worst and Danny does go mad, there’s at least a reasonably good chance that the heroes here will be able to stop him.

On the other hand, this also means that if the heroes turn out to actually be evil or whatever, he has less chance of getting away. Of course, Superboy hadn’t really seemed evil, but Danny really has no clue if he would even be able to tell. Sure he’d known Vlad was a nightmare from a mile away, but Vlad wasn’t exactly subtle about his obsession with Danny. Evil steeped in calculation would surely be harder to spot, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” someone says from behind Danny. “But are you going to be using that computer for much longer?” Danny blinks, staring back at the teen who’s looking at him nervously. Danny glances over at the clock, but it’s now reading 2:30, which means that he’s been here for like three hours already,and he really hasn’t read much of anything in all that time.

“You can have it,” Danny says, pulling back to shove his notebook into his backpack.

“You sure, man? I don’t wanna chase you off, but I really could use it. Physics project, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. Wasn’t really making much progress anyway. Might as well take a break.” Danny says. He never got to take physics in school, but he remembers struggling with lit class enough to understand the sentiment. And he really isn’t making any progress, if he’s been staring at the same Justice League page for multiple hours.

“You working on a history project or something?”

“Yeah.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“What teacher d’you have? It’s pretty cool that they’re letting you do it on the Justice League.”

“Oh, uh,” Danny quails for a moment, focusing on closing the tab so he doesn’t tell the kid he’s not going to school. After all it’s probably reasonable to assume the laws about delinquency are the same here. “It’s more about the meta protection acts than like, the Justice League itself. And I’m not really local, so...”

“Ah, that explains why I don’t recognize you,” the other teen grins.

“Yeah,” Danny says, stepping back so the other teen can take over the computer. “Well, good luck with your physics project.”

“Thanks, man, and good luck with your meta-acts essay.” The other teen turns his attention to the computer as Danny steps away, heading for the library exit. Clearly research isn’t going well today, and Jazz would definitely yell at him for trying to force his brain to focus when it clearly doesn’t want to. He pauses outside for a moment, trying to remember what Jazz said to when your focus was shot. Obviously part one was to take a break, but he’s certain that she’d had more to say than that.

He thinks he remembers her going on a rant about monotony, and boredom, but he doesn’t really feel bored. Actually more than anything he feels wired and anxious. And anxious means he should...

“Turn slow tigers into fast tigers,” Danny mutters, gaining a deeply confused look from the couple other patrons standing outside the library. He ignores them, though, and starts heading for the nearby park, so he can do some stretches. Fast tigers means he has to exercise, which he would usually complain about but- well, his routine has definitely been a lot less active since he got here. Other than the train crash the other week, Danny’s been spending most of his time sitting and reading, and while it’s been insanely nice to have nobody hunting him, honestly the idea of exercise sounds almost horrifyingly nice.

He does his best to run through the kind of stretches he remembers doing in PE, warming himself up as best he can before starting to jog the little looping path. The jeans make it a little more annoying than he remembers in PE, but luckily they’re kind of loose, so they’re not too terrible to run in, and Danny has no intention of going very fast. There’s too many people around even if he wanted to, and he does his best to be polite and not in the way as he jogs. it doesn’t take long for his breathing to go heavy with exertion, and as he finishes his second circuit, Dannyt relaxes into it, and just lets himself run.

Thirty minutes later, Danny is feeling markedly more tired, and he lets himself slow to a walk. His heart is thudding rhythmically in his chest, the occasional stutter only more prominent in the heightened pounding, and his legs feel a little wobbly, but he keeps walking, The sweat he’d worked up feels gross against his clothes, so probably he could’ve gone about it better, but Danny figures a whole thirty minutes without worrying about his existential situation is more than worth feeling gross for a bit. His usual tactic of sneaking into the local gym while it’s closed isn’t gonna cut it during the day, so he’ll have to wait to shower, but in the meantime, he can walk off the remaining adrenaline, and decide what to do for dinner.

* * *

“Hey, did you really mean what you said about me having a civilian identity?” Robin looks up as Superboy sits in the air beside his work desk.

“I have four different identities, ready for you to choose from,” Robin says.

“Wait do you just keep possible identities around in case anybody needs them? Is that, like, a Bat thing?” Superboy leans over to examine the tool Robin had been working on. Like everything else he uses, it’s emblazoned with a bat insignia, not that the marking does anything to help identify what the little machine even does. It’s ridiculously small, definitely not any kind of weapon, unless Robin’s been tinkering with the idea of murderous nanobots, which honestly wouldn’t be that shocking. Of any hero Superboy’s ever met, Robin seems uniquely predisposed towards mad scientist-type stuff.

“I keep exactly two emergency identities on hold, but those are separate. I was talking specifically about identities for you.” Superboy freezes, turning his eyes back to Robin, who looks at him like this is a perfectly normal thing to say. Superboy is at least ninety percent sure it isn’t, but what the hell.

“What the hell,” Superboy echoes his own thoughts. “Why would I ever need four identities?”

“You don’t need four, you need options. There’s no point in giving you an identity you hate.”

“Okay, but people don’t get to choose their names? So why would I care.”

“Most people don’t choose their names because most people receive them when they’re babies, but everyone has the ability to change it later if they decide they don’t like it. You have the unique advantage of being cognitively developed enough to have a say from the beginning, and you should have the opportunity to use it.”

“Huh...” That’s actually kind of sweet. “Do you like your name? I mean, like, that’s not why you don’t want to tell us, right?”

“My name is adequate,” Robin answers slowly. “It’s mine and I am... accustomed to it. The reason I haven’t told you my name is because it... implicates the other bats, and Batman considers that to be a significant security risk.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess that’s fair. Could I see the names you were thinking of?”

“Certainly,” Robin says, pushing back from the desk. “Let me get my tablet.”

* * *

“Uh, Superboy?” Danny shouts, trying to ignore how fucking ridiculous this feels. “Are you, like, free to talk? I think I want to meet your friend.” He’s hovering in the sky about a mile out from his town, in as close to the middle of nowhere as he could manage. He’d done a bit of looking into Robin this morning, before making his decision, and what a wild discovery that Robin was a name that had been held by multiple individuals. It makes him think of Dani, and he almost hopes that wherever she ends up, she might use the name Phantom too. After all, if anyone else rights to it, it would be his genetic clone.

Danny has no clue if time is flowing the same here as back home, but with any luck his friends have managed to orchestrate Dani’s escape too. It was always going to be a little more dodgy than Danny himself- his death being inherently tied to the portal had meant it was a bit more responsive to him than it otherwise would be, and that detail had been pretty quintessential to the rewiring that had needed to be done in order to send him to an entirely different universe, but they’d been hoping that her nature as a post-portal clone would mean that she had a close enough tie to the portal to send her through as well. Not that Danny would likely ever get to know for sure.

The soft rush of air alerted Danny to someone’s arrival, and he just managed to keep himself from falling into a defensive posture as he turned to look at the newly arrived Superboy, and the other teen being carried in his arms. Danny recognized the other boys outfit as that of the current Robin, who was now staring at Danny through a pair of disconcerting white-lenses set into a domino mask.

“We were free so I figured we’d just come meet you?” Superboy says with a nervous grin.

“Yeah, that’s, um, kind of obvious. Should we land?” Danny’s pretty sure that none of the Bats have flight, and like, as much as flying is cool as hell, Robin doesn’t look particularly impressed by it.

“That would be preferable, please,” Robin says, confirming Danny’s thoughts. He nods, and heads for the ground. Superboy follows just as quickly, and a moment later they’re all gathered on a gravel road in farmland.

“So, uh,” Superboy begins, once he’s deposited Robin on his own two feet.

“You told him about me before,” Danny says. Superboy may have had plenty of time to fly over here, but there hadn’t been enough of a delay to have explained the situation to Robin just now.

“It was an entirely theoretical conversation,” Robin offers dryly, before Superboy can respond.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that he was asking if I could theoretically help a meta acquire an identity if they were uncomfortable with the Justice League. Nothing of it was mentioned to anyone else and he told me no details about who any theoretical metas might be.” Danny blinks, taking a moment to process Robin’s explanation. In a way it makes sense, and he can see why Superboy would want to make sure that what he was offering was even possible. Besides, it’s pretty obvious already that they both really trust each other.

“Okay, sure. I guess I get it.”

“I would like to know why you’re concerned about the Justice League, though, if you’re willing to share. If there’s anything illicit happening-”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Danny cuts in as soon as he realizes where Robin’s going. He’s suddenly glad he’d already decided to explain his situation in more detail. “It’s like, I’m not from here so my shit is entirely unrelated? It’s just, they’re -you’re?- associated with the government, you know?”

“And your government is a threat to you.”

“Honestly, everything was. But they can’t get to me here. It’s why my friends- that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, but are you sure you’re safe? Because like, space travel is a thing, and if you need protection...” Superboy trails off, looking concerned.

“I mean, it should be fine? Even if the GIW did manage to figure out inter-dimensional travel, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to figure out where specifically I went, so yeah.” Danny really doesn’t want to think about a GIW that’s gone inter-dimensional.

“Well if they did manage to make it here, they would be breaching the meta protection acts if they tried anything, so I hope if that does happen you inform myself or Superboy.”

“Yeah,” Danny laughs. “It’s honestly been kind of crazy trying to wrap my head around the idea I have protections here?”

“That’s understandable. Plenty of meta-individuals have complicated feelings about them, even if they grew up here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, just because it’s illegal to exploit or discriminate against someone doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t happen. And metas who have been treated poorly often have trouble trusting in the protection acts.”

“Or sometimes you just didn’t get that info programmed into you and then you have to adjust to your understanding of history being manufactured,” Superboy mutters under his breath. Robin doesn’t react at all and Danny’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it either. The implications are a bit concerning, but Danny’s not about to press him on it.

“Yeah, I mean that’s kind of where I am, I guess. I think I’d like it if you’d be willing to make me a legal identity? I’m basically homeless at the moment, so I’d like to be able to get a job or something. But I’d really rather not end up on the Justice League’s radar yet. You guys seem nice, but databases are- a lot.”

“Easy enough. I can actually do it all with my personal resources, so the info never goes anywhere near the Justice League’s databases. We just need to determine what name history you want to have.”

“I mean, I’d like to keep my name, if possible?”

“Sure, What’s your name?” Robin tilts his head.

“Danny Fenton.”

#dp x dc #the one where danny stumbles into a new universe and immediately guns for nasa #that tag is becoming less accurate with how long its taking to get to the space camp part lol

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qqueenofhades · 7 months ago

Note

Is it foolish of me to sympathize with how marginalized people on the far-left are incredibly frustrated that the Democratic establishment isn't as scared of/desperate to please them as the Republican establishment are toward the MAGA fringe? I guess from their perspective, voting feels like begging - most of the people who hear you won't even glance at you, let alone drop you a coin. But you still have to do it, or else you (or worse, your family) are *guaranteed* to starve.

Okay, a few thoughts here. Note: for you and the other people who have recently sent politics asks, I have been very deliberately NOT talking about it for the last few months. I had to break it yesterday because of the Orange Menace finally getting fucking convicted, but I do want to go back to not doing that (at least for the next few weeks/months/until whatever else stupid happens). So while I will answer this, I am generally not going to answer others and my apologies for that, but yeah. It's just so much and I have GOT to keep myself sane until November somehow. (Or God forbid, afterward, but you know.)

First off, most members of the American far left aren't actually marginalized people, or at least not marginalized enough that their personal well-being seems in any way likely to be affected by their loud and ceaseless campaign to tell other people not to vote. Actual marginalized people who have lived in America for any length of time are *well* aware of how the government and the state can be weaponized against them; witness how black community organizers will voice well-deserved criticisms of the Democratic establishment or other aspects of American party politics that are frustrating for everyone, but they will still always tell people to vote. Black people are also extremely aware that earning the right to vote was an incredibly long, difficult, and bloody battle that they were never given it for free, and the white power establishment fought them having it at every turn. They are thus far more aware than your average white online leftist that voting matters, because they had to work so hard to get it (and still to defend it as various red states launch openly racist assaults on voting rights, especially aimed at disenfranchising people of color). Witness how Bernie also got literally zero traction with African American voters, despite being the darling of the (white) online left.

Hispanic people are also (rightfully) frustrated at how both American parties can use Latino immigrants as a political football, but they're still backing Biden by 30-point margins. We hear a lot of chatter about Trump supposedly gaining ground with voters of color -- maybe he has, though I doubt it, but that's still incremental gains from the massive holes he was in before, and where he generally remains. Arab Americans are (rightfully) angry with Biden over Gaza, but even in the much-hyped Michigan primary, he got roughly the same amount of "uncommitted" voters as Obama did as an uncontested incumbent in 2012, and most of them have said they'll grit their teeth and vote for him in the general election anyway. Yes, a few of them have decided not to, but they are not the size of the Black and Latino populations in America insofar as electoral power, and many of them have grudgingly decided that as bad as Biden might be on this particular issue (though far less so than the social media groupthink would paint him) the alternative (i.e. Trump openly promising to deport everybody who's not white and crack down on pro-Palestinian protests and anything else) is much, much worse.

And yet, white leftists seem utterly incapable of making these same calculations. Frankly, I'm not sure they actually care about Gaza, let alone anything else they say, because if so, they wouldn't be slavering at the mouth to let Trump back in there to "teach a lesson" to Biden, Democrats, and everyone else who was not Smart And Clever Enough to sanctimoniously sit on their hands and let the fascists take over. I know this because they spent all their time lying about Biden and distorting his record and insisting people not vote even before October of last year, and then it only got ten thousand times worse. I'm not saying that all leftist or leftist-identified people are white, but they are disproportionately predominant in leftist spaces and in pushing the idea that there's "no difference" between the parties and somehow Trump and Biden are morally equivalent or will have the same amount of impact on what will happen after one of them is elected. That is, yes, because they are white and they have the privilege of assuming that a weaponized fascist government will not go after them for that reason (even though Trump and his surrogates are now claiming that "everyone" who opposes Trump has to be "dealt with.") As such, when you say that marginalized far-left people are frustrated with the Democrats, I'm... not entirely sure that's true. Marginalized people AND the far left are both frustrated with the Democrats, but one of those groups has generally still decided not to voluntarily disenfranchise themselves, and the other is pumping out Vladimir Putin-wet-dream anti-voting propaganda at every chance they get.

There is also the fact that America is not a left-wing country in any sense of the word, and that while it's easy for the MAGA Republicans to go ever further far-right and promise to be even more outrageously cruel and stupid and fascist than ever before, but that's not an actual policy or a plan. It is also a strategy of diminishing returns; witness the fact that for all the cruelty and stupidity Republicans have pumped into the public arena since 2016, they haven't actually been that good at winning elections, and most of their major successes have come from Trump winning in 2016 and thus being able to stack SCOTUS and the district and circuit courts with hand-picked right-wing nut jobs, who are functioning exactly as they were designed to do. (Which Hillary Clinton warned about, along with everyone else, and yet she was taken out by the exact same dirtbag leftist disinformation moral purity machine that is working overtime to handicap Biden for the exact same reasons.) Mainstream Democrats warned about this before the 2016 election and were scorned and laughed off. Indeed, the entire Online Left continues to resolutely deny that the extremist SCOTUS is responsible for anything (It's Biden's Fault) and thus are likewise identical to Trumpies. And since they also want Trump to get back in there and teach a lesson to the Democrats, they're just as anti-democratic, dangerous, stupid, and deliberately short-sighted as actual MAGATs, and can by no means be considered allies to the singular movement of keeping fascists out of power. That is our only present goal.

If Democrats bent over to everything the far left asks for (which is often a combination of tankie gobbledygook, various vague ideas about Communism utopia where capitalism magically vanishes with no consequences, half-baked revolution cosplays, and other stuff that is functionally equivalent to the wildest lunacies of MAGA) they would never win an election again, and that would be exactly what the fascists want. Witness how they struggled when they were branded "defunders of the police" and "socialists" and other effective responses to the mildest milquetoast efforts for reform or accountability. And the political climate right now is just far too dangerous to throw everything to the wind and prance out some pipe-dream perfect-utopia plan. I'm sure you've heard about Project 2025 and how the far-right Heritage Foundation is planning to systematically implement fascism at all levels of the country, the instant they have a compliant Republican president and congress. I would take all these people crying about Biden even a fraction more seriously if they weren't openly jonesing for something that is so unbelievably, incredibly worse.

For example: I currently have major beefs with literally the entire foreign policy of the Biden administration right now. I think they're being too hard on Ukraine (forbidding them to strike targets on Russian soil with American weapons, which would end the war faster) and, despite some promising signs and open displeasure, still far too easy on Israel. They looked foolish after insisting that Rafah was a red line and then essentially making up an excuse that what's going on now is not a "major operation." Secretary of State Blinken floating the idea of helping Congress censure or neuter the International Criminal Court arrest warrants issued for Netanyahu and co. was also one of the fucking stupidest things I've heard from a serious (i.e. non-Trumpist) American diplomat in a long time. So we respect the ICC when it issues warrants for tyrants we don't like (Putin), but when it issues one for tyrants we still do, apparently (Netanyahu), then bingo, it's back to the bad old habit of ignoring international law like we're special and it doesn't apply to us, and allows all the other bad actors around the world to do the same by pointing at America and correctly pointing out that we ignore it when it doesn't suit our purposes. I think this is wrong and I don't agree. So? What am I going to do?

Well, you see. I'm going to vote for Biden and I am going to give him money and I am going to remind everyone I know that they have no moral option but to do the same. I do this because I am aware that despite my disagreements, Biden is acting from a cautious anti-interventionist standpoint and does not want to throw American military might around recklessly or dangerously like good ol' George Dubya or Trump or even Obama and the drones. He is listening to sober mainstream advisors who have (however incorrect and useless) ideas about "avoiding escalation" and trying to bring conflict to a managed end. He is doing this with a realistic appraisal of the power of the office of American presidency and he's not going to capriciously end democracy and become a full-blown fascist dictator on day one, as Trump has openly and repeatedly promised to do. Yes, if there was a viable option apart from Biden, maybe I would think about voting for them, but there is not, and literally everyone who does not actively vote for him is helping Trump. I do not care about any other contrived and disingenuous online squealing. I know that Biden does not want the war in Gaza to go on for no reason and for maximum carnage; Netanyahu and Trump both do. That is just to name one thing.

So: yes. I absolutely understand being frustrated with the Democrats and wishing they would push harder and etc. But I am also aware that they can be pushed, that they are the only option right now, and the people who huff and puff and whine and groan about how it's such a moral imposition to vote for them are literally doing the fascists' work for them, and that is not acceptable. If they want a better system or a better world that isn't just useless internet fantasies about magical end-of-days Raptures fixing everything, also a la the crazy fundamentalists, they will have to get off their ass, do the work, and create that change. I will be happy to vote for that candidate when or if they arrive. In the meantime, I will continue to do my damndest to ensure that we even have a chance to get there. So yeah.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #okay back to Not Talking About Politics i go

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verstappen-cult · 5 months ago

Text

STUPID CUPID, M. VERSTAPPEN

CHAPTER 01: OF ALCOHOL AND BAD DECISIONS

✶ SUMMARY. Making decisions when you’ve had too much to drink is the worst thing someone can do, but it’s exactly what Lando does. He has 100€, a plan and a friend in need of a new camera. What could possibly go wrong?

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. oscar being an overprotective brother. alcohol consumption. i don’t specify what they’re studying, just that they’re in the same university & some of them share classes. use of Y/N. attempted humor. attempted banter. a little bit of landoscar.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST.

“Remember to keep your things close to you at all times. Do you still have the pepper spray I gave you last summer?” Your brother talks as he walks by your side. He woke you up this morning to have a last walk around campus, so you won’t get lost Monday morning on your first day. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before adding, “I’m always gonna be around but you need to—”

“Oscar,” You place a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. “I’m ten minutes younger than you, and I’ve been traveling around Europe alone for the last four months. I think I can handle myself.”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“If I survived High School, I think I can survive anything.”

He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders to resume walking. “I can’t believe you finally decided to join me here. This past year has been awful without you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You chuckle, wrapping your own arm around his waist. “I just needed some time away to clear my head,” You shrug, a hesitant smile gracing your lips. There’s so much inside your head, so much you want to say to him, but you’re not brave enough to say it out loud. You’ve never been. “And I know our parents wanted us to go to the same university since, like, forever. I couldn’t disappoint them.” Not again.

You’re passing outside the Ice Rink when you run into one of Oscar’s friends.

“Hey!” One guy, whose name you can’t remember, approaches you both. He’s wearing his hockey uniform, sport bag hanging over his shoulder and a hockey stick in his left hand. “We missed you at practice today, mate. Hey, Y/N.”

His smile is so contagious, you feel bad for not remembering his name. You turn to look at your brother and just one exchange of glances is enough for him to understand.

“Hey, Alex.” He pulls away from you to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I just wanted to show my sister some places.”

“Oh yeah! You start on Monday, right?” You don’t even have time to open your mouth before he’s speaking again. “Are you nervous?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod one time. “A little,” It’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about since you moved in with your brother a few days ago. There is so much you still need to do, the rest of your clothes aren’t even here yet, but you are more worried about finally starting your uni life than anything else. “but I prefer not to think about it.”

“I keep telling her she has nothing to worry about.” The smile on your brother’s face is the same one you saw six months ago before he left for his second year at University and you left for your trip, the ‘i’m so proud of you’ kind of smile. “She’s sharing classes with Charles, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna be in good hands.” Alex says it with a laugh, that only earns him a hit on the head from your brother. “Anyway, we have that party tonight at Lando’s. Are you coming?”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up in a blush. “No, we can’t. Maybe another time.”

“You can,” You interrupt him. It is the second time he turns down an invitation just to stay with you. “I need to finish organizing the last of my stuff. Boring stuff. You should definitely go, it’s Saturday, Osc.”

“Yeah but—”

“He’ll be there.” Alex tries to hide his laugh but doesn’t do a good job.

“I’m pretty sure someone’s gonna be very happy.”

“Goodbye, Alex!”

Oscar grabs your arm, giving you barely enough time to turn around and wave a goodbye to his friend before he drags you away.

“What was he talking about?”

“Don’t know,” He simply answers, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “What do you say we grab some lunch?”

The party’s in full swing when Oscar walks through the door of his friend’s apartment.

It is definitely a party organized by Lando; too many people in a cramped space, his DJ friend in a corner of the living room and everyone making out with everyone. Just the kind of party only Lando likes.

Oscar makes his way into the kitchen, needing some liquid courage.

“You came!” Alex shows up out of nowhere, he notices his friend is holding a beer in his left hand as he wraps his arm around his shoulders. Oscar doesn’t know how much he’s had to drink, but he smells too much like alcohol for his liking.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, full of different kinds of alcohol and chips, is Charles and his girlfriend.

“Hey,” Charles raises his own beer as a greeting. “Where’s your sister?”

“Don’t tell me you left her alone in your apartment.” Charles’ girlfriend frowns, throwing daggers at him.

Oscar throws his hands up in surrender. “She didn’t want to come. I insisted but she still has things to organize.”

“You should give her my number,” Alex, Charles’ girlfriend says with a smile, snuggling closer to his boyfriend. “I’m sure we’re gonna get along.”

Oscar opens his mouth to actually ask for her number when the thunderous voice of none other than Lando Norris interrupts him.

“Oscar! You came!” Lando hugs him from behind, spilling some of his drink on the floor. But he doesn’t even notice, he’s more focused on finding his cheek to kiss.

“Hey, Lando.” Oscar blushes. Blushes hard. He’s glad the dim lighting can hide how Lando makes him feel. “Good party.”

Lando smiles, sliding next to him and bumping shoulders. “Glad you like it.” Oscar finds himself returning the smile.

“Please stop flirting in front of me or I’m gonna throw up in your faces.” Alex rolls his eyes and Lando hits him in the chest.

Oscar finds it cute the way Lando’s cheeks heat up at the joke. He downs the last of his drink and Oscar has to fight the urge to wipe a drop of liquor from his bottom lip.

He hasn’t even had a drink. What’s wrong with him?

He’s thankful when Charles hands him a beer, so he has something else to do rather than stand there like an idiot ogling at Lando and wondering what his lips would taste like.

One minute they’re all hanging out in the kitchen, drinking and talking about the next hockey game — the boys threatening him if he misses another practice — and the next one he’s sitting on the couch with Lando glued to his side, one of his legs over his lap.

Oscar looks down at his phone, his last text to you still without an answer.

[00:25] Oscar: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

He sighs, typing a new message.

[00:30] Oscar: I hope you’re just busy and nothing bad happened.

[00:31] Oscar: I’m going to buy pizza on my way back home.

“Oscar?”

He immediately looks up to find Lando looking at him with a pout.

“Sorry, I needed to text my sister.”

He reaches forward and boops Oscar on the nose with his index finger. “You worry too much. Isn’t she the same age as you?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar feels a little silly now but doesn’t say anything. “But she doesn’t know anyone around here, so I don’t wanna leave her alone for so long.”

Lando flops his head onto Oscar’s shoulder and gazes up at him with his big, brown eyes.

“You’re cute.”

Oscar can’t help himself. He lifts his hand and pushes an errant curl behind Lando’s ear, fingers lingering on his cheek.

“You’re cute, too.” Oscar says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Lando’s eyes are wide as he stares at Oscar.

Oscar breathes into the air and Lando’s expression softens as he moves closer, breaths mingling and faces flushed. They’re so close that Oscar can count the freckles on his face.

The moment is interrupted by the ping of Oscar’s phone announcing a new message.

Oscar pulls away, hands reaching for his phone beside him.

[00:48] You: sorry was busy trying to fit all my clothes in your tiny closet

[00:48] You: pizza sounds good! im starving

[00:49] You: hope you’re…

He doesn’t finish reading the third message, he just gets up after the second one, almost throwing Lando off the couch.

“Wha—what happened?” Lando is confused, his pupils wide and a faint blush still on the top of his cheeks.

“Sorry, I have to go. My sister needs me.”

“But we were about to,” The curly-haired boy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, not really wanting to say the word ‘kiss’ out loud.

Oscar types a quick message, letting you know that he’s on his way, not even listening or looking at Lando. “See you Monday!”

Oscar is out of there in record time, leaving the party and a very confused and frustrated Lando behind.

Lando groans, head hanging over the back of the couch, and hides behind his hands.

A laugh startles him, making him look through his fingers. “That was awful, mate.” His best friend’s leaning against the wall behind the couch, a glass of —he assumes— gin and tonic in his hands.

“Were you watching us?” Lando wants to dig a hole and crawl in. “You perv!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me the first time I announced myself. You were too busy trying to get laid.”

Lando groans again, “I barely know Oscar’s sister but I don’t like her.”

Max laughs, plopping down next to him. Lando takes the still very full glass out of his friend’s hand and downs all the liquid, wincing as he’s not used to the taste.

“You should’ve run after him.”

He perks up, “Should I?”

“No, you idiot.” Max looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “Are you that desperate to get laid?”

“It’s not that.” Lando pouts, turning his body to the right so he’s facing him. “I really like Oscar. Like I have a huge, fat crush on him since the first time I saw him at hockey practice a year ago.”

“And I’m sure he knows it.” Max says, sarcastically.

“We barely talk,” Lando really wants the earth to swallow him whole. “well, he barely talks. I don’t know if he’s just shy or doesn’t like me.” He sighs, looking at his friend, who is listening expectantly. “And when I finally decide to do something, his sister moves in with him. It’s great. Just great.” He throws his hands in the air, tired, frustrated. Sexually frustrated more than anything.

“What a cockblock, uh?”

“Exactly! You’re the only one that gets me, Maxie.” Lando throws himself at him, and Max has barely any time to grab him by the waist to stop him from falling face first onto his lap. “I wish I didn’t catch feelings so fast. Just—like you! Fucking my way around, no strings attached. How do you do it?”

Max laughs, patting his friend on the back when he starts hiccuping.

“You’re too soft for that.”

“I’m not!” He pulls away, eyebrows furrowed. “I need to do something before I go mad. I really want Oscar to notice me.”

“Oh, believe me, he notices you.” But Lando is deep in his thoughts, bottom lip between his teeth. Max can almost see the cogs working inside his head.

“Does she not have a life? Friends?” Lando asks absentmindedly.

“Well, you said she just moved in.”

“So that’s what she needs.”

“What?” Max can barely keep up.

“A life!” Lando pulls out his wallet, and it takes him three failed attempts to pull out a 100€. He hands the money to Max without another word.

Max looks at him, and then the money in his hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” Lando shrugs. “just make sure she has a life.”

“What?”

“Money,” He takes his friend’s hand and places the money on his palm. “so you can take her out or something. I don’t care.”

“Hold on a second.” Max sits up, hand brushing through his hair. “You want me to take her out?”

“Yes! If you take her out, she has a life. Then, I can shoot my shot with Oscar without having to worry about his sister.” Lando looks like the cat that got the cream, eyes glistening and everything.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me. And everyone wins.”

“What do I win?” Max wants to laugh but the seriousness on his friend’s face stops him.

“A pretty girl.” Lando simply answers. “And 100€.”

“How do you know she’s pretty?”

Lando looks at him beneath his eyelashes, his lips in a pout. “Please do this for me.”

Max thinks about it for a second.

He really thinks about the whole plan.

He would be helping a friend — his best friend. He would be hanging out with a pretty girl and, if everything goes well, he would be getting in that same pretty girl’s bed.

And he needs a new camera.

“Just one time? Or you want this to be a regular thing?” If he’s going to do this, he may as well make the most out of it. “Because if you want me to keep her busy, that means I’d have to take her out and that means more money.”

“I can’t think anymore.” Lando throws his arm over his eyes, the music too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. “Let’s see how it goes first. Then, we talk about more money. Now just let me sleep, I’m gonna have the worst headache of my life tomorrow.”

“Well, you got yourself a deal.”

The first two classes weren’t that bad.

By the third one you felt a lot more comfortable. Even more so when you recognised one of your brother’s friends in the same class as you.

Charles gave you some tips about certain professors and what you needed to expect in your first year. He’s in his second year now, so you listened very closely to everything he had to say.

You’re one of the first ones to walk in the lecture hall, so you have enough time to find a seat and answer one of the dozen text messages from your parents asking about your day.

And the other dozen from your brother.

[15:23] Oscar: Want to have lunch together?

[15:28] Oscar: How’s your day going? Any news?

[15:35] Oscar: I just bumped into Charles. He says you’re doing good!

[15:40] Oscar: I have hockey practice today.

[15:42] Oscar: In case you want to come and walk home together.

You sigh, a small smile gracing your lips.

[16:02] You: all good so far. i have a very weird professor lol

[16:04] You: charles is such a nice guy, it made my classes so much easier and fun

[16:07] You: i really want to see you playing hockey so i might go look

[16:08] You: my last class is about to start so i’ll talk to you later. love you!

You’re hitting send when a presence startles you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, pointing to the seat right next to yours.

You look around the lecture hall, still pretty much empty.

“Uhm, no?” You can count on the fingers of one hand how many people are attending the class. But he still chooses to sit next to you.

The teacher comes in a few minutes later, a few more students after him, but even then the lecture hall feels empty.

“Hey,” The stranger says, leaning in to whisper without drawing the teacher’s attention.

You turn your head around, forcing yourself to move away when you realize how close he really is. “Yes?” You say, typing away on your computer as the professor gives the class the list of books needed for the semester.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” He has a sheepish smile. Only then you notice that he doesn’t carry a backpack, or books. He’s just there, in a class where he’s supposed to be taking notes, without anything.

You dig into your bag, pulling out a pen and a sheet of paper.

His smile grows. “Oh, thank you!”

“Are you sure you’re in the right class?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He turns his attention back to the professor, who’s saying something you should definitely be paying attention to, but you’re more focused on the boy sitting next to you.

“No reason at all.”

You make it through the first hour without distractions. Well, apart from the tapping of the stranger next to you and his constant sighing and twisting on his seat.

When the professor excuses himself to answer an important call, you know you have to say something.

“Can you stop, please? You’re distracting me.”

“Oh,” He leans a little closer, “Am I?”

You groan, asking yourself if staying in that seat is really worth it.

You don’t want to look at him, you really don’t. The first time you saw how big and blue his eyes were, you knew you wouldn’t be able to look at him again without getting lost in them.

So, you simply nod while pretending to look for a folder in your computer.

“I noticed the first time you kept typing the same line over and over again.”

Your blush starts at your neck and goes all the way up to your ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it again,” His breath hits you on the cheek, too close for your liking. “You know you’ve been opening and closing the same folder for five minutes now, no?”

You hold your breath, trying to regulate your heartbeat.

He doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on what the professor is trying to teach you. However, you know you won’t be paying much attention.

You can still feel the warmth emanating from him, making you feel hot all over. His closeness is enough to put you on edge.

Just when you think he won’t be bothering you again, he slides a piece of paper over to you.

You ignore it for about five seconds until you can’t anymore.

You unfold it.

‘Your hair is pretty’

It sends a thrill down your spine. The ghost of a smile crossing your face, something inside you making a funny little flip.

You force yourself to look at him, only to find his gaze already on you. The blonde stranger tilts his head and observes you for a while, and when you don’t know what to do, and afraid of giving away how flustered you really are, you simply roll your eyes as an answer, immediately going back to paying attention, or pretending to. But the professor is nowhere to be seen and everyone is picking up their things to get out of there as fast as possible.

Finally.

You pack up your own things, slipping his note inside your notebook without him noticing, and stand up ready to run away.

You only make it out of the lecture hall before he falls into step with you.

“Hey, you forgot this.” He shoves the pen into your face, almost making you trip over your own feet.

“You can have it.” You walk a little faster, but it seems he doesn’t want to leave you alone. “Pretty sure you need it more than me.” It’s just a whisper, a comment for yourself more than for him.

“Uh, feisty!”

You stop, turn around and take a deep breath. Plastering a smile on your face, you say, “You are annoying.” And it seems that you amuse him, because he fights back a smile. A very pretty smile, you notice. “Goodbye.”

“I’m Max, by the way!”

“I don’t care!” You’re not proud, but he totally deserves the middle finger you give him.

He doesn’t need to know but you’re glad you can put a name to that handsome face.

You check your texts as you make your way to the ice rink and, as expected, a message from your brother awaits you.

[17:45] Oscar: Something special you want for dinner today?

It’s cute how much he cares about you. Maybe too much sometimes, but you wouldn’t trade your twin and overprotective brother for anything in the world. Even if it means you have to put up with the hundreds of text messages and death glares directed at anybody who dares to even look at you.

“Texting a boyfriend?”

You look at Max from the corner of your eyes; he’s still walking a few feet behind. “Are you following me?”

He laughs. “Why would I be following you?”

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

How can someone be so attractive and annoying at the same time?

Unfortunately, he’s headed the same way.

“Are you on the hockey team?” If you slow down to wait for him, well, who can blame you?

He cocks his head and the edge of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Why? Are you into hockey players?”

“You can’t have a normal conversation, can you?”

Max laughs, opening the front doors and moving to the side to let you in first.

“Yes, I’m on the hockey team.” Max chuckles, “Are you on the hockey team?”

“My brother,” You answer him, and Max raises his eyebrows. “His name’s Oscar. Do you know him?”

“Are you asking me if I know my own teammate?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You’ve never felt so stupid talking to someone before, but that’s exactly how this guy makes you feel. Have you forgotten how to talk or he just loves being an idiot and getting under your skin?

“Max!”

Both of you turn around to find a curly-haired boy waving in your direction.

You recognize the bright, brown eyes of Lando Norris immediately.

“Hey, Y/N!” He says when you approach him, putting his arm around your shoulder. “I see you’ve met Max.”

You nod, “Yes. He’s in one of my classes.” Max winks at you. He has the audacity to wink. “Are you on the hockey team too?”

“Oh nah, that’s not for me. Max is actually my roommate.” Lando explains as Max leans against the side of the bleachers beside you. “I’m here as his moral support.”

Max laughs. A full belly-laugh.

Your head snaps at him so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash.

“Anyway,” Lando’s eyes widen, like silently saying something to his friend, before turning to look back at you. “Are you here to see your brother?”

“Yes. I don’t know anything about hockey, though.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t either. I’m here to see the hot guys.” You laugh at how honest he is. “You got plans tonight?” Lando asks after a few minutes, getting comfortable on the bleachers beside you, seeing some of the players getting out of the changing rooms.

“I don’t know if Oscar has something planned, but I don’t think so.” You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a little cold. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“I know this pub that serves the best Guinness in town.” He states, nudging you. “You and your brother should come.”

You shrug. It is a very appealing invitation after all, and after your first day of classes you definitely deserve it. “It sounds like a place I want to know.”

“Great!” Lando claps his hands together, then looks at his friend. “You should join us too, Max.”

Please say no, you think.

Max shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Great. Just great.

“I’m gonna get ready before the coach starts screaming at me again.” Max interrupts, a lopsided grin on his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Piastri.” He bows, like one of those Lords in a period drama, tilting his head up a little and winking once again, making your heart stop for a second.

He disappears before you have time to think about something witty to say.

You look back at the ice rink, spotting your brother from a distance. He sees you almost immediately, and waves at you with enthusiasm. You wave back, a soft smile spreading across your features.

Well, you have an hour to come to terms with spending the afternoon with the most annoyingly attractive, blonde haired and blue eyed boy you’ve ever met. What’s the worst that could happen?

✶ TAGLIST — @14fa. @hiireadstuff. @lolzblues55. @maifics. @littlegrapejuice. @landoslutmeout. @nikfigueiredo. @nciolisa. @rafexoxo. ✶

GWEN RAMBLES — well, hello! thank you so much if you made it this far. i don’t know when the next chapter will be posted. i’m already working on it, but it may take me a few days. if you want to be added to this series taglist you can reply to this post, send me a dm or leave it in my ask box! as you know, comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. i’ll see you in the next update!

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

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anachronismstellar · 2 months ago

Note

What about Wei Qingwei? 👀

hehehHEHEHE WHO IS READY FOR SWORD PUNS-

-----

"Thrity percent."

"Ten percent."

"Twenty five percent."

"Five, and if you keep pushing, I will give you nothing at all." Shang Qinghua slammed his book closed, the threat like a sharp knife being held over Wei Qingwei's dreams of a new forge.

"The Immortal Allience Conference is coming soon, I need a new forge to make new weapons," Wei Qingwei said as if his argument couldn't be refuted. Better start sooner than later, right? Even stubborn Shang Qinghua couldn't find fault in a point like that!

"Wei-shixiong," The An Ding Peak Lord rubbed his hands all over his face, smearing ink on his cheek as he gave the biggest sigh Wei Qingwei ever seen someone give. "I understand your frustration and your anxiety to start things now, believe me, I know," Shang Qinghua gestured at his entire desk, a chaos of papers and parchments, some of them covered in numbers so tiny it hurt Wei Qingwei's eyes to look at them for too long. "But as you can see, everyone wants a head start, and as we have discussed, many times I may add, the Immortal Allience Conference budget will be given next year. And is no one's fault-" Then he paused, mumbling something suspiciously like "but your own", only to continue with a smile. "That your disciples blew up a forge. Again."

Wei Qingwei crossed his arms, tapping his fingers. It annoyed him to no end that his lie had been caught before he could use it, but something nagged on his mind that the money wasn't actually the problem here.

He had heard... Stories. You see, blacksmithing could be really boring. When you're waiting for a new ore shipment, or when one had nothing to do besides polishing metal (hehe) again and again, what one could do besides gossiping? And the last big whisper among his older disciples had been too good for him to ignore.

Long night meetings with Zhangmen-Shixiong, visits at odd hours to a certain bamboo house, doctor's appointments in the middle of the night while being perfectly healthy... One had to be stupid to not connect the dots.

The quiet as a mouse, shadow of twelve peaks, Lord Shang Qinghua fucked. And he must be pretty good at it if the types like Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu came back for more.

Another thing that wasn't hard to see was how stressed the man looked. To be honest, Wei Qingwei doesn't remember any time Shang-shidi was not stressed. Maybe it was because they met only during meetings. Or when he went to ask for money. Hm.

What Qi Qingqi said? Something something vinegar and bees and honey? Maybe he should try another strategy.

"This one would like to apologize to his Shidi for the insistence. But maybe I could bid on a final offer?" And Wei Qingwei didn't curl his finger on his hair because he wasn't that shameless, but he wasn't ashamed to pull his sleeves up to show off some muscle, leaning forward to let his outer robes slide just enough to show his clavicle.

Shang Qinghua stared.

"Very well, a final offer," he agreed and then proceeded to pretend to organize his desk, taking a glance or two at Wei Qingwei's neck.

"Shidi goes back to his first ten percent advance deal," Now Wei Qingwei knew he was laying on too thick by Shang Qinghua's snort. Still, he didn't back off, winking as he said: "and I can craft something special for you."

"Hmm..." Shang Qinghua moved more papers around, pulled his collar as he took another peek at Wei Qingwei's chest. "I do have some projects in mind that would require Wei-shixiong's expertise..." He hesitated for another moment, slowly laying back until his back hit the panel behind him, one of his hands going to his sword, playing with the tassel like a cat about to catch a mouse. "Also, it's been a while since I've polished my sword. Would Wei-shixiong consider putting that in his offer as well?"

The next day...

"I swear to Heavens, your hair is possessed by something. What did you do to make it so knotted?" Qi Qingqi was being delicate, mind you, she would never be less than gentle, but she also couldn't resist pulling the curls a little bit stronger than she would. Served Wei Qingwei right for making her spend an entire morning taking care of his curly creature.

Also, Wei Qingwei's dreamy sighs were starting to annoy her. He was acting worse than her teenage girls!

"I went to talk to Shang-shidi yesterday," he said as if he wasn't almost vibrating to share how did it go.

"And?" she rolled her eyes, pulling her comb just enough to make him hiss. "By the look on your face he agreed on giving you more money."

He started laying back on her, but before he could ruin all her hard work on the lower part of his hair, she hit him with the comb. And it was a testimony of how smug he was that his only reaction was to laugh, eyes creasing into two half moons, smiling like a sly fox.

"He gave me something alright."

She stopped mid movement blinking once then twice, mouth opening in a surprised gasp.

"You didn't."

"Oh I did."

"I can't believe you did it."

"I can't believe how huge is his-"

"Stop!" She hit him again with the comb, and then a second time. She didn't need that image in her head the next meeting, thank you very much!! "Shut up! I don't wanna hear it!"

"Ow, ow, alright I'm sorry!" He apologized but kept laughing, no, not laughing, giggling like he were about to kick his feet and start making plans for a wedding.

She loved him, but. Ew.

"How is he that good?" She wondered out loud when they finally calmed down and went back to controlling Wei Qingwei's hair. "He looks like he's about to faint half of the time, and the other half, he's crying about us being mean to him."

"I have no idea, but he's growing quite the reputation. But it does make sense after you think about it. And!" This time she couldn't hold him in place, Wei Qingwei turning around so she could see him wiggling his eyebrows. "Explains a lot why a lot of lords were blushing last meeting. You know the voice he does? The bossy one?"

She dropped everything to cover her ears, closing her eyes as well so she couldn't even read his lips. "I don't wanna hear it!!"

That send Wei Qingwei into another fit of giggles, throwing his head back while covering his face with both hands.

Qi Qingqi didn't understand, honestly she didn't want to understand. But her best friend was having fun, so if she sent a blessing on Shang Qinghua's way, that was between her and the Heavens.

------

Aaaaaand Wei Qingwei had his turn! :D I wanted to make it more naughty but I'm at work and djahskfjskdks Everyone here knows English so- LETS JUST SAY I WORKED ON MY POKERFACE TODAY

Bonus points for Qi Qingqi!! :D

There you go anon <3 I hope you enjoyed!! Also, the demon curly hair Wei Qingwei hc is from @artsarasp comic here!!!

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #wei qingwei #shang qinghua #I wanna call them Air Smith so bad but I know is a bad joke #or Air Sword #so weishang it is fkshskfnskjf #sqh gotta catch them all #bonus #qi qingqi #:D

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alottiegoingon · 8 months ago

Text

golden rule

lucy maclean x gn!reader

summary: you become lucy's only friend in wasteland.

warnings: weapon usage/mentions, brief blood mention, wasteland and life outside the vault, lucy is naive and oblivious at first and a hot mess later, mostly just fluff, golden retriever lucy & black cat reader type of shit, kinda enemies/strangers to secret in lover with each other, reader is hot i wanna date them but also a loser if you see through them, no nsfw, not proofread

"just give it a thought, alright? we could help each other."

"why would i want you for a company? no offense, princess, but i don't associate with vault dwellers." you take a look at her from head to toes, studying the details in her jumper. despite how cool her pistol looked attached to her belt like that, the yellow and blue choice was kind of goofy, you thought.

you can see the excitement in her eyes disappearing as she hears you and you almost felt sorry for her. almost. "okay, ouch." she tilts her head, crossing her arms. in a second, her dramatic act gave place to a smug smile. "oh, i know! what if i help you to find the head?"

even your own bitterness left your soul as you hear her. you pause for a moment, searching for any sign of unseriousness in her face. maybe it was just a bad joke? but then, she keeps staring at you with those huge eyes and a not so subtle smile, proud of what she had said.

"i'm sorry, a head? you mean someone's head?" you frown. "i don't know what you vault people think of us but i'm not a monster." you weren't really offended, but seeing the panic in her face was actually princeless.

"what? no, no! i was just- everyone wants that head and i thought you-" she starts to ramble, not wanting to offend you. her beam went away as fast as it reached her face. you almost felt bad for her twice in a row now.

you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and allowed a smirk to creep onto your lips. she immediately stopped talking and, even though she exhaled relief, you knew that deep down she wanted to kill you but was too kind for that.

"oh. you were messing with me. funny." she gives you a forced dry laugh. it was actually annoying how she tried to be so nice all the time.

as a response, you give her a nonchalant wry smile. "anyway. i'm not looking for a dog right now, so..." you sigh, reaching for the heavy backpack on the floor and sliding it onto your shoulders. "but good luck with the head or whatever it means." you wink at the stranger and turn around to leave.

"wait! please." she grabs your wrist before you could take the first step and in response, you turn around again impatiently, glancing down at her tight grip on your skin. it takes her a while to realize that she's still holding you but as soon as she does, she immediately looks at your wrist as well and let go of it. "sorry." she whispers.

you were ready to interrupt her but, curiously, you felt bad when seeing how insanely desperate she was. it wouldn't hurt to just hear what the had to say, right?

"i've been having a rough week, okay? everyone i've met tried to kill me, except for you. a weird..." she pauses, thinking "robot, or whatever, tried to harvest my organs out and i had to cut someone's head off. and i may not be the strongest or the most experienced person but i can learn!" she was truly putting on her best show while you stood in front of her completely unbothered. at least, you liked to think that you were a complete fearless and tough person. "just... please?"

against all odds, you didn't deny it immediately. and, if you didn't deny it immediately, you knew what it meant. fuck, when did you become such a softie? it could be, of course, the way her hair looked pretty even in a messy ponytail or how the cut on her lip made her look so incredibly ho-

"okay, fine. whatever." that idiot creepy huge smile of hers spread on her face again before you could even finish. "listen up, i'm not done." you roll your eyes. "we'll do things my way, get it? you speak when i speak, you shoot when i shoot, you walk when i walk." you take steps closer to her while you talk. firm, hoarse and assertive tone. you stop when you feel the tip of her nose almost touching yours, keeping the steady the eye contact intact. you were so busy initimidating her that you don't even notice when she hold her breath.

"you are my shadow." you reach up for her face, cupping her chin with your thumb and index finger, forcing her to look back at you. "you don't exist unless i tell you to. do you understand me?" you stated with a piercing gaze.

you thought it was impossible for her eyes to get any bigger but when you step out of your scary platform, you notice her terrified expression. "okey dokey..." she nods frantically.

you gotta admit it. she didn't seem as goofy as before while paying attention to you so devotedly like that. even when still wearing that ridiculous jumper.

eventually, you realize that your eyes were betraying you by staring at her for a little too long. you clean your throat, trying to cover that up. "good. let's go now. we can't stay here forever." you step back and start to walk away, not even waiting for her to join you.

you hear her hasty footsteps getting closer as she tries to catch up to you until she finally shares your pace. "i'm lucy, by the way. lucy maclean." she held her head high, corners of her mouth going up again. god, she smiled a lot.

"good for you. i'm still gonna call you princess, though."

"not to brag, cause that would be impolite of me, but i found a really cool place when i was looking for a river this morning." lucy's smiling from ear to ear and excitedly rocking from side to side is the first thing you see when you open your eyes after a tough night of sleep.

a week had passed since you met lucy. no matter how tough you considered yourself to be, lucy was persistent, charming, sweet and funny enough to make her way to your heart and you knew that you were doomed. deep down, you were suspicious that she knew that as well.

"why are you always so happy?" you groan, rubbing your eyes. unlike lucy, you were not a morning person. or a night person. or any time of the day person.

"good morning to you too, sunshine!"

you are forced to get up, not being actually opposed to it, and take a short sip from your last water bottle. maybe taking a look at lucy's oh so great place would be useful.

"okay then. let's do it, princess." you use your hands to brush the remains of sand and dust out of your pants but lucy's cute giggle prevents you from heading out of the shelter you had found.

lucy approaches you with her usual polite and sweet grin and you unconsciously flinch as she stops just a few inches from you and touch you. predictable, she was gentle while brushing the top of your hair with her fingers, fixing the bundle of messy strands that merged together while you were sleeping and added a funny volume to your head. you follow every move of her with darting eyes and an uncontrollable urge to admire her green eyes focused on your hair and reddish parted lips.

"there you go. pretty as always." lucy coos and before withdrawing herself, her fingers slid down by a few inches and casually tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. for the first time in ages, you froze.

thankfully, lucy didn't seem to notice how affected you were by her innocent act. "thanks." you whispered in a ridiculously soft grin and followed her out of the shelter.

"why do you have a gun if you don't like using it? that's stupid." you tease lucy while you two walked side by side, following the train track to the place she had mentioned.

"i do use it. just when i have no other option. you know, because of the golden rule." she shrugs, proudly, proceeding to explain it to you.

you really tried to not care or call it dumb, but instead, you snorted in amusement. "you are way too naive, you know that?"

a dilapidated house.

lucy's incredible and cool place was nothing but a whole junk. everything was falling apart and, judging by how empty it was, many others were there before you.

"it looked cool from the outside..." she explains herself while scratching the back of her neck.

you were strong. firm. scary and ruthless even. you would shove a knife on anybody's throat if they wasted your time like that, especially after a terrible night of sleep. but, again, it wasn't anybody. it was her.

so, funny or not, you laughed.

"god, you are such a terrible explorer." you take a quick peek at her with the corner of your eyes, wearing an idiotic and foolish smirk on your lips.

"i am not!" her jaw drops and her voice sounds whinier as she defends herself but giggle along with you, not feeling scared to be vulnerable and fully stare at you.

you didn't have to answer to that. all you did was look back and forth at her and the house, proving your point.

"okay, you got me there." she looks down, dramatically pouting and pretending to feel so insulted. "but at least i made you smile. looks good on you." lucy's lips twitch in a shy grin.

"maybe i should smile more, then. if you like it." you boldly murmur, surprised at yourself for saying that. you could swear that lucy's face got almost entirely red but you didn't have enough time to appreciate it or figure if it was real.

"look at those cute lovebirds. love has returned to wasteland, gentlemen." a tall, sturdy middle-aged man mocks you to two other creepy looking guys. one was even missing an eye. in two seconds, you were able to count how many weapons they had and your first thought was the possibility of lucy getting hurt.

you quickly stood in front of her, shielding her from any kind of possible danger.

everthing happened too fast after that. all you remember is denying their offer to take your backpacks with the remains of food and water you had and all of your weapons.

everything went black for a second as your body hit the ground. you slowly manage to get on your knees and look around but lucy isn't there and you are trapped. you feel a sharp pain as you breathe in and a drop of blood hits your pants. you shudder at the moment you cautiously feel your cheek, warm to the touch and stinging like you were poked by a thousand needles. your fingertips carefully drop to your mouth and you hiss as you touch the wide cut on your swollen lower lip.

you notice the crisp click of the gun's trigger being released and you look up, expecting to see the weapon pointed at your head. instead, you see the men with their hands above their heads.

"get away from them!" lucy's voice fills your ears and you turn your head back to find her with a huge weapon in hands pointed at the strangers. she takes a quick glance at you and you see the anger inside her overflow as she notices your wounds.

"i'm gonna count to three and i want your ugly, filthy and miserable roaches out of my face or... or i'll shoot!" judging by her tone, you can easily notice how nervous she is even though she's trying her best to actually stand up for you.

and the thought of being protected by someone made your heart flutter. you weren't bothered by the aching pain in your lip when you found yourself proudly smiling at her.

the big guy seemed to notice the tension in her voice and took a step closer to you. you could only imagine how badly he had regretted that as soon as a loud bang echoed through the entire house and his foot was hanging by a thread, quite too literally.

"oh, golly..." lucy mutters with widen eyes. you follow her shock with a gasp that was completely muffled by the loud and agonized screech.

"don't make me repeat myself! all of you out, now!" she yells, threatening them by aiming the gun at them once more. "if that's okay with you, please." the scary expression in her face swiftly changed to a well-mannered and soft grin.

the injured men is rushedly dragged out by the other two, not looking back and you can not believe that someone as adorable looking as lucy was the one to broke her dear rule and hurt people.

"thank you! t-take care." she waves at them innocently, still with the gun in hands before running to you.

#lucy maclean #lucy maclean x reader #fallout

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