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hjvi · 2 days ago

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𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙮 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

Pairing: Hockey!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chris promised no more fights, but when a cocky opponent crosses the line and touches you, he can’t hold back.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Violence. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

Word Count: 7k

The arena hums with anticipation, the sound of skates slicing across the ice filling the space, mingling with the roar of the crowd. You pull your hoodie tighter around you, your breath visible in the chilly air as you glance down at the rink. Chris stands at center ice, his stick resting on his gloved hands, his dark brown hair tucked beneath his helmet but still somehow messy and perfectly him. His blue eyes dart toward you for a fleeting second, and even from this distance, you can see the unspoken promise in them—a reminder of the one he made to you last night.

“No more fights,” you had said firmly, clutching his bruised hands in yours. His knuckles were still raw from his last outburst on the ice, and you couldn’t bear to see him like that again. “You’re getting hurt, Chris. You’ve got to stop. For me.”

He’d hesitated, his jaw tightening, the stubborn defiance you knew so well flashing in his eyes. But then, as always, he softened under your gaze. “M’kay,” he murmured, his voice low but sincere. “I’ll try, for real. No more fights. Promise.”

And now, as you sit on the cold bench near the glass, watching him skate with that effortless confidence, you hope he’ll keep his word. He’s always had a temper, quick to boil over when someone crosses a line, and hockey only seems to amplify it. But tonight, you just want him to play. To stay out of trouble.

The game begins, and Chris is electric, weaving in and out of defenders like they’re nothing. He’s fast, almost too fast, and you can tell he’s showing off a little, especially when he scores the first goal and immediately glances toward you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You can’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

But as the game wears on, your focus is drawn away from the ice.

It starts innocently enough—a guy from the opposing team, number 27, walking past during a break and tossing you a casual, “Hey, you’re way too pretty to be sitting here alone.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat. “Not alone. My boyfriend’s playing.”

He laughs, a cocky sound that grates on your nerves. “Oh, the bad boy on your team? Figures. Bet he doesn’t treat you half as good as I would.”

You glance toward the rink, where Chris is waiting for the puck to drop, his posture tense. He must have seen the interaction because his jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as they flicker between you and number 27.

“Just leave me alone,” you say firmly, turning your attention back to the game.

But the guy doesn’t take the hint. Between plays, he keeps finding excuses to walk by, flashing you a grin or making some snide comment. Each time, you can feel Chris’s gaze burning into you, his grip on his stick tightening. He’s trying to hold back, you can tell, but the strain is visible in every line of his body.

When the second period ends, the guy takes it a step further.

He walks over to your bench, leaning casually against the barrier like he owns the place.

“So, what do you say? One date? I’ll even let your boyfriend keep his teeth—if he behaves.”

You stand up, your hands curling into fists. “I said no. Now get lost.”

But instead of backing off, he steps closer. His tone darkens, his words dripping with venom.

“You know, I think you’re the type who likes it rough. Does he even know what to do with you? I’d bet anything you’d be screaming for me in minutes.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying to sound firm, but your voice trembles.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unrelenting. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention. Your boyfriend’s too busy trying to show off to even notice.”

“Let go of me,” you say, your voice rising in panic.

But instead of releasing you, he shoves you against the cold plexiglass. One hand pins your wrists above your head, his breath hot and sickening on your cheek. “You scream, and I’ll just make it worse,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with malice.

Tears sting your eyes as you struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong. The cold air bites at your exposed skin as his free hand yanks your hoodie upward, exposing your chest. The chill makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the humiliation burning in your chest.

“See? That’s better,” he sneers, his eyes roaming over you. “Betcha Chris love these titties.”

“Stop it!” you cry, your voice breaking, but he presses a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll save that screaming for later,” he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice trembling, but he only presses closer.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sickly sweet. “I just want a little peek.”

You thrash against him, but his hold is too strong. Red circles form on your wrists from his crushing grip.

“Get off me!” you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The sound of someone shouting your name cuts through your panic, and suddenly, the weight is gone.

Chris’s teammate, Ryan, shoves the guy off you, yelling, “What the hell are you doing, man?!” Another teammate quickly steps in, throwing his jacket over your shoulders to shield you from view as you collapse to the bench, shaking.

Chris, meanwhile, is oblivious, focused entirely on the game. He scores again and turns toward you, expecting your usual wink of encouragement. But instead, his eyes land on the commotion.

His face pales.

One glance at you, disheveled and trembling, and at the guy being restrained by his teammates, is all it takes for Chris to understand.

Chris throws off his helmet and skates full speed toward the bench. He leaps over the boards in one fluid motion, his entire body radiating fury.

“Chris, no—” Ryan starts, but it’s too late.

Chris grabs the guy by the collar, yanking him to his feet. “You sick piece of shit,” he growls, his voice low and menacing.

Before the guy can respond, Chris’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him staggering.

The sound of the punch echoes through the arena, silencing the remaining murmurs of the crowd. The guy stumbles back, his smirk replaced by a look of shock as he tries to regain his balance. Chris doesn’t give him the chance. He grabs the guy’s jersey, yanking him forward, and lands another punch—this one to the cheekbone.

“You think you can put your hands on her?” Chris snarls, shoving him against the boards. “You think that’s okay?”

The guy smirks through the pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “What are you gonna do about it, lover boy? Hit me again?”

Chris obliges, landing another punch square in the guy’s face. Blood sprays from his nose, and he lets out a pained grunt, but Chris doesn’t stop.

“Chris, stop it!” you cry, but he’s too far gone.

His teammates try to intervene, trying to pull Chris back, but he shoves them off with a force that surprises everyone. His focus locked on the man before him. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you don’t mess with her,” he growls, landing another punch.

The guy struggles, trying to shove Chris off, but it’s like trying to stop a storm. Chris delivers a series of blows, each one harder than the last, the sound of bone meeting bone echoing in the arena.

“You don’t touch her!” Chris yells, his voice hoarse. His knuckles are split open now, blood staining his gloves and smearing across the guy’s face. “You don’t fucking look at her!”

The guy finally fights back, swinging a weak punch that barely grazes Chris’s shoulder. Chris laughs darkly, his eyes wild. “That all you got? Hit me, you coward! Come on, hit me!”

When the guy hesitates, Chris slaps him hard across the face, leaving a visible handprint on his cheek. “What’s the matter? Scared? Hit me!” he yells, his voice echoing through the arena.

The guy takes a shaky swing, but Chris dodges easily, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that sends him crumpling to the ground.

“Hit me back, you pussy!” Chris roars, slapping his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. “Come on! Hit me! Show me what kind of man you think you are!”

The guy tries to crawl away, his hands raised in surrender, but Chris grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground. “You were so confident before,” Chris spits, his face inches from the guy’s. “Where’s all that big talk now?”

“Chris, stop!” you scream, your voice breaking through the chaos.

But Chris doesn’t stop. He slams the guy against the boards, the plexiglass rattling with the force. The guy’s head snaps back, his eyes dazed, but Chris isn’t done. He raises his fist again, his knuckles raw and bleeding, ready to deliver another blow.

Chris looms over him, his chest heaving, his knuckles split open and bleeding. His jersey is torn, and a bruise is already forming on his cheekbone. He looks more animal than man, his rage consuming him entirely.

“Chris!” you cry again, louder this time, tears streaming down your face.

This time, he hears you. He freezes, his fist hovering in the air, his chest heaving as he glares down at the guy. Slowly, he lowers his hand, his fingers trembling.

The refs finally manage to pull him away, but Chris doesn’t resist. His gaze shifts to you, and the fury in his eyes softens, replaced by something else—guilt.

He starts toward you, his steps unsteady, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice raw.

But you’re not okay. You’re shaking, your wrists throbbing from the earlier assault, tears streaming down your face. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” you sob, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

Chris steps toward you, his hands outstretched, You flinch as he reaches for you, the memory of his violent outburst too fresh.

The reaction cuts him deeper than any punch ever could.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. You clutch the jacket tighter around you, your wrists still aching where the guy had pinned them.

Chris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to explode again. But then he takes a step back, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I should’ve been paying attention,” he mutters. “I should’ve—”

“You promised me,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. “You promised no more fights.”

“He fucking deserved it!” Chris shouts, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “You think I’m just gonna stand there while some asshole puts his hands on you?”

“You didn’t have to beat him like that!” you shout, your voice rising. “You didn’t have to lose control!”

“I lost control because of him!” Chris snaps, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see him touching you, hurting you?”

“I told you I could handle it!” you yell, your voice echoing in the now-quiet arena.

“Handle it? He had his hands all over you!” Chris fires back, his voice rising. “Do you even understand what that looked like? What he was doing?”

“You think I don’t know?” you snap, tears streaming down your face. “You think I wasn’t terrified? But you losing control doesn’t make it better, Chris! It just makes it worse!

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mixture of anger and anguish. “I can’t just stand by,” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I can’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I didn’t need you to protect me like that!” you yell, your tears coming harder now. “I needed you to be the person you promised me you’d be!”

Chris looks away, his jaw tightening. “You don’t understand,” he mutters.

“No, you don’t understand!” you fire back, your voice shaking with emotion. “Every time you do this, every time you let your anger get the better of you, you hurt yourself—and you hurt me! Do you even see what you’ve done to yourself?”

Chris glances down at his hands, his knuckles bloody and swollen, his jersey smeared with blood that isn’t entirely his. For a moment, he looks lost, like a boy caught doing something he knows is wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

But it’s not enough. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Chris,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry doesn’t undo the promises you’ve broken.”

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, he looks like he might cry. But then his stubbornness flares up again. “You’re mad at me for protecting you?” he asks, his voice rising. “For doing what he deserved?”

“I’m mad at you for not listening to me!” you shout. “For putting yourself in danger and making me watch you destroy yourself!”

“I don’t care about me!” Chris yells, his voice raw. “I care about you! I care about making sure no one ever touches you like that again!”

“That’s not your choice to make!” you scream, your voice breaking completely. “You don’t get to decide how to protect me, Chris. That’s my choice. Not yours.”

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mess of emotions—anger, guilt, pain. Slowly, he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I don’t know how to be what you want me to be,” he says softly, his voice barely audible. “I’m trying, but… I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can’t let yourself soften—not yet. “Figure it out, Chris,” you say, your voice trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore.”

Chris flinches like you’ve struck him, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t lose me by letting me fight my own battles,” you say, your voice trembling. “You lose me by breaking your promises. By scaring me.”

The words hit him like a blow, and for the first time, Chris looks truly defeated. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping, and turns away, leaving you standing there with tears in your eyes and your heart aching in your chest.

Leaving the rink felt like walking through a fog of tension so thick it pressed against your chest. Chris followed closely behind you, his skates swapped for sneakers, his bruised and bloodied face a painful reminder of the chaos earlier.

“Just get in the car,” he said, his voice hoarse but soft as if he was scared of pushing you further away.

You hesitated by the passenger door, your fingers twitching on the handle but unable to pull it open.

“I can’t,” you muttered, refusing to look at him. The sight of his swollen knuckles and the cut on his cheek only deepened the ache in your chest. “I can’t sit there and look at you right now, Chris.”

The words hit him visibly, his shoulders sagging. He stepped back, giving you space, but his hand hovered by the door handle of the driver’s side.

“I’ll park nearby. We don’t… we don’t have to talk about it yet. I just need to get you home safe.”

Reluctantly, you climbed into the passenger seat, folding into yourself as far away from him as you could manage. The silence in the car was suffocating, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional, barely audible hiss of Chris’s sharp inhales every time he moved his bruised body.

You sat stiffly, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, refusing to look his way. Chris’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel so tightly that they turned white, though it was hard to tell under the dried blood. His lip was split, the swelling on his cheekbone casting a shadow over his face.

At a red light, you finally spoke. “Pull over.”

Chris’s head whipped toward you. “What? Why?”

“Just do it, Chris. Please.” Your voice was steady, but the tremor underneath was unmistakable.

He obeyed without another word, pulling into an empty lot. You got out, slamming the door behind you, the sound reverberating through the quiet night. Chris followed, watching as you rummaged through the trunk and pulled out a first-aid kit you always kept there—ironically, because of him.

“Sit,” you ordered, pointing to the curb.

He hesitated but sat down, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground. You crouched in front of him, your hands trembling as you opened the kit. The sight of his face up close made your stomach twist. His bruises were angry and purple, a stark contrast against his pale skin. Dried blood clung stubbornly to his knuckles.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly as you opened his hockey bag and fished out a small first-aid kit.

“I don’t want to,” you replied sharply, your hands trembling as you grabbed antiseptic wipes and gauze. “But someone has to, because you clearly don’t care what happens to you.”

The sting in your words made him flinch, but he didn’t argue. He let you dab at the cuts on his face, wincing now and then but staying still. Your hands shook the entire time, a mix of anger and worry making your chest feel tight.

You cleaned his knuckles with practiced care, though your hands shook so much that you nearly dropped the alcohol wipes.

“You promised me, Chris,” you whispered, the words heavy with hurt. “And look at you now.”

His blue eyes, usually so confident, were full of guilt as he looked at you. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make it right, but I’m sorry.”

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I…couldn’t… I saw him…”

“Stop.” You cut him off, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “Just stop. I can’t hear it right now.”

He nodded, biting down on his lower lip so hard you worried he’d split it further. The silence between you stretched thin, filled only by the faint rustle of bandages and the distant hum of traffic.

When you finished, you stood abruptly, stuffing the used wipes back into the kit. “Let’s go.”

The drive home was no better. You stared out the window, your arms crossed, while Chris kept stealing glances at you, his jaw tight. As soon as you reached the house, you were out of the car and inside before he could say a word. You slammed the bedroom door behind you, locking it for good measure.

Chris knocked once, twice, but you ignored him, curling up on the bed with tears streaming silently down your cheeks.

Hours passed. The silence in the house was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards as Chris paced the living room. You lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest tight and your eyes burning from unshed tears. When a soft knock came at your door, you didn’t answer, expecting him to give up again. But instead, his voice broke the silence.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice was muffled through the door. “Can I… Can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t respond. He sighed, the sound heavy with guilt.

“I was thinking… maybe we could go get McDonald’s fries. You love those, right? It’ll… it’ll help. Please. Just let me do something for you.”

Your stomach churned, torn between your anger and the small, stubborn part of you that missed him—that wanted to believe he could fix this. Finally, you got up and unlocked the door. Chris stood there, looking more broken than ever.

Chris standing there, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. His face was even more bruised now, the swelling setting in, and you hated the pang of concern it caused.

Wordlessly, you grabbed your jacket and followed him to the car. The drive to McDonald’s was silent, but less tense than before. When Chris ordered, he only got fries for you and a drink for himself.

“You’re not eating?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

He shook his head. “My stomach…” His leg bounced nervously as he added, “I’m just… not hungry right now.”

When the food came, you barely touched it. You sipped on your Pepsi while Chris picked at the fries, holding one up to you.

“You should eat something,” he said softly.

“I’m not hungry either,” you replied, looking out the window.

“Eat,” he urged gently.

“No,” you said firmly, turning your head away.

His hand faltered, You noticed then that his hands looked different—bare.

“You… took off your rings?” you asked, your voice soft as your eyes lingered on his bruised knuckles.

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his fingers tightening on it briefly before relaxing. “Yeah,” he said, almost a whisper. “They have cracks in them now. And… I know little things like that can… trigger stuff. I just…” He trailed off, his leg bouncing erratically. “I didn’t want to make it worse. Even seeing me like this…” His voice cracked, his words faltering as he turned to you, raw and exposed. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you. You turned to look at him fully, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the bruises, and the raw guilt etched into every line of his face. Without thinking, you leaned across the console and kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost frantic, a collision of emotions you’d both been holding back for too long. Chris responded immediately, a quiet, surprised sound escaping him as he slid a hand to your jaw, his rough thumb brushing against your cheek. The other hand tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

His lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a passion that left no room for doubt. He kissed you like he was trying to pour every ounce of remorse, every unspoken word, every promise of love into you. Your fingers gripped his hoodie tightly, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidity of him, the proof that he was here and not slipping away.

You didn’t realize you’d climbed into his lap until you felt the firm press of his thighs beneath you, your knees brushing the worn fabric of the seat. The steering wheel was digging into your back slightly, but it didn’t matter. You needed this closeness, this raw, unfiltered connection.

Chris’s hands slid down your sides, pausing at your waist as if he was afraid to hold on too tightly. His breath hitched when your thumb brushed over the bruise on his cheek, and he winced slightly but didn’t pull back. Instead, he kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your lower lip in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but Chris didn’t let you go far. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured against your lips, his voice shaky. He kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your bare skin.

You gasped at the contact, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the rough texture of his bruised knuckles. It sent a shiver through you, making you grip his hoodie tightly.

“Chris,” you breathed between kisses, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “I’m here, and I’m so sorry.”

His hand moved slowly, reverently, tracing small circles on your skin. The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of his kisses. You could feel the faint cuts on his fingers, each one a reminder of the night’s events, but it didn’t make you pull away. If anything, it made you kiss him harder, needing to feel connected to him in a way that words couldn’t achieve.

“I love you,” he said between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

When you finally pulled back for air, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his. His breath was warm against your lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the faint hum of the engine and the soft rain tapping against the windows.

Your gaze drifted downward, and that’s when you noticed the faint discoloration peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. Your fingers reached out instinctively, brushing against the bruise on his collarbone. Chris flinched, a quiet hiss escaping him, but he didn’t stop you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with concern.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced down at your hand, his gaze following the slow movement of your thumb over the bruise.

You felt the faintest tremor in his body, and then his leg started bouncing beneath you again. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, moved hesitantly. He began playing with your fingers, his rough, calloused hands dwarfing yours as he twirled them gently, almost absentmindedly.

Your breath caught as you noticed the details of his hands—the rawness of his knuckles, the faint streaks of dried blood around the small cuts, the way his nails were uneven from nervous chewing or a hasty attempt to clean them. His hands had always been rough, worn from years of work and fights, and yet they moved over your fingers so delicately, as if afraid they might break.

“Chris,” you said softly, tilting your head to look at him. His leg stilled for a moment before starting up again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but insistent.

He hesitated, his jaw working as he avoided your gaze. His hands tightened slightly around yours, his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of your palms. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost shy. “M’so sensitive,” he murmured, his accent thicker than usual. His eyes flickered up to meet yours for a fleeting second before dropping again. “Can I… make you feel better?”

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the van, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Chris reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Chris as he set your hands down in your lap.

Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Chris only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Chris's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. " Nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Chris's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his scarred fingers bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Chris-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Baby.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Chris’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, Baby.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Chris knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Chri-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Chris grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Chris enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your hoodie as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Chris slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Chris's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Chris's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Chris-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Chris had you wrapped up in. Chris's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His voice was gentle, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness. You leaned in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your face into the crook of it. As your head rested there, the faint bruise on his skin seemed to fade under the warmth of your touch. He pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist, and his hands softly brushing between your shoulder blades, meeting your embrace with a soothing comfort.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to post a fic about Chris playing hockey. The idea of him being so competitive, passionate, and, let’s face it, a little too quick to throw punches has been living rent-free in my mind forever. Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me that you took the time to dive into this story any interactions are appreciated 😊

tags- tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo

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miniwheat77 · 2 days ago

Text

Loser. (Soap x Virgin!Reader.)

!NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, innocent reader, NO MINORS!

Unedited*

“You’d hit that? Even with how innocent Y/N is?”

“Ugh. Until her fuckin’ legs shake mate.” Soap laughs. Gaz rolls his eyes, laughing too. “You’re sick.”

“Nah, I think it’s an act.” Soap smirks. “No twenty-something year old is that naive.”

He doesn’t realize you’re listening on the other side of the door. They’d chose to have this conversation right outside the office you usually worked in. It was late and they didn’t figure you were still inside.

———

Later that night, you’re in the watch tower alone. It’s dark out, it’s pretty late. Soap is supposed to be up here with you, but you’re early. You’re curious about what he had said. What he meant by it anyways. Hit that? Until your legs shake? What does that even mean? You wanted to ask but also knew how wrong it had been of you to eavesdrop in the first place.

Soap walks through the door and startles you out of your daydream and you act as if you hadn’t heard his entire conversation earlier with Gaz. “Hey little lady.” He smiles. “Hi Johnny.” You smile back at him. Looking away quickly. He can tell that you’re acting off. “Everything alright?” He asks. “Uh.. yeah.” You mumble. He can tell you’re off. You knew that you should have listened to the others on base and stayed away from him. Sarah and Layla had told you on more than one occasion to stay away from him but had never actually explained why. You knew that the two could be a little overdramatic at times.

“I have a question actually.” Soap says, sliding a chair up to sit next to you. “Why do you wear your hair like that?” He asks.

“L-like what?” You brush it down. He makes you nervous, you aren't sure why.

“It’s always done up real nice. Sometimes you even got cute clips in it and stuff.” He toys with the ends that hang by your face, seeing the way your cheeks redden by his touch alone. You look down with a laugh. “Uh.. I’m not sure. I guess it’s just something I picked up on from my mo-“ you pause, shaking your head.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks. “Uh.. it’s just… I guess I just don’t like to talk about my parents.” You mumble. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’ll listen anytime you’d like.” He smiles, resting a hand on your knee. It doesn’t seem like it, but Johnny is being genuine. The other girls' words are always echoing around in your head. Johnny seemed nice and you needed to ignore what they said sometimes.

“They uh… they were very religious. So far beyond the normal extent that it was like a cult.” You look up at him. “No offense but is that kind’ve why you’re a little…”

“Sheltered?” You smile. “Well I wasn’t gonna say it.” He laughs.

“Yes it is. They didn’t let me have exposure to stuff like TV or books. Homeschooled all my life, expected to be well kempt and tidy. I guess some things just stuck. My room is spotless and my hair is always fixed.” You shrug. He smiles. “I like it though. Wouldn’t be you if it wasn’t I suppose.” He laughs.

“So. I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I heard you talking to Gaz earlier.”

Soaps cheeks nearly light on fire.

“Uhhh. You weren’t supposed to hear it.” He laughs. “I’m sorry.”

“Well if you’re saying sorry it means it wasn’t good, what you were saying. I don’t know what that means.”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Do uh… you not know what Sex is?”

Your eyes widen. “What? Y-yeah I know what it is. What does that have to do with this?” He sees the way you start to backtrack. How nervous you get talking about it. “I’d hit that” he laughs, repeating himself. In disbelief you have no idea what he meant when he said it. He looks down at the ground away from you. “It’s… a slang term. For sex.” He laughs. You look confused. “You’ve never heard it?” He asks. “No. I know what sex is but I’ve not mapped out the slang terms I guess. So what you were saying.” You swallow hard. Eyes finally moving up to meet his. You're starting to realize what he had meant. “You…” You’re very hesitant. “I would have sex with you, that’s what I meant.” He laughs. You try to play it off with a small laugh but he can see that you’re different now. “I’ve.. I’ve never um…” you rest your hand on the back of your chair. “I know. I can tell.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "I honestly thought that this was some kind of act you were putting up. Until you mentioned your parents. I feel like a dick now. I shouldn't have said what I said and I want you to know that what I was saying was really disrespectful of me. I shouldn't have been saying anything like that." He looks down at his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What?" You ask. "I thought that wanting to have sex with someone is like a compliment or something." You mumble. "It is. Well. Kind of." He shakes his head with a laugh. "Look. It's awkward but I'll teach you all of the stupid slang terms alright? It doesn't make sense, you're supposed to grow up hearing this stuff and learn what it means along the way alright?" He laughs. You nod your head. "Okay. Yeah. Got it. " You blush. "Thank you Johnny." You mumble. "Course.” He laughs.

“You said something else too uh… until my legs shake? What does that mean?” Johnny’s face is on fire, embarrassed and blushing. How is he supposed to explain this away?

He sighs. “Well. This is what I get for being gross ah?” He laughs. “Sometimes during sex if it’s.. rough enough or good enough, your legs will shake. I guess. It’s more complex than that. You know.. Um... I'm gonna write down a website and I want you to look it up. Don't be scared alright? And don't watch it with anyone else around, it's bad."

"If it's bad why are you telling me to watch it?" You ask. "Because... It's about sex and you know how apprehensive you are about it. Everyone else is too. This website it's for adults only, watch it alone. You'll understand. If you see something you want to know about you can ask me or research it on like... an incognito browser on your phone. I'll show you how to do that too." He mumbles. He picks up a piece of printer paper and looks around until he finds a pen. He writes down the very familiar website and than shows you on your phone how to get to an incognito browser. Reminding you to never watch it with people around.

You have an idea of what he's telling you to look up.

Later that night when you’re off watch, you’re making sure your earbuds are connected to your phone before you look up the website he’s telling you about, the front page is intimidating enough before you even click on a video.

Hours later you’re still awake. The amount of terms you’ve learned about, the videos you’ve seen.

You feel corrupted.

Urban Dictionary and a Porn website have turned your entire life around. No wonder your parents kept you sheltered.

You finally fall asleep just a couple hours before you’re supposed to be awake. A new ache between your legs and you’re unsure how to fix it or make it feel better. The next day, you’re exhausted but everything you had learned the night before changed your perspective on everything. The conversations you had overheard from the men on base suddenly made so much sense. Why Layla and Sarah had told you to stay far away from Johnny made so much sense now.

“Uh.. Earth to Y/N. You alright?” Ghost waves his hand in your face and you jerk back away from him, swallowing hard. “Uh.. yeah. Sorry. Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Something keeping you awake love?” Ghost places his hand on your knee and Johnny watches across from the table as you go completely stiff, looking down at his hand. “Yeah.” You say it, “wait no. No I mean no. Sorry.” You shake your head, standing up fast. “Just slept in too late yesterday. I’ve got to go get some paperwork done.” You mumble. “See you guys around.” You wave, hurrying out of the mess hall and into your office. “What was that about?” Ghost laughs. "I think she's just stressed." Johnny laughs. He was getting a little nervous by your reaction. Maybe he had given you too much all at once.

———

You were desperate. You didn't care anymore. It had been almost two weeks since Johnny had showed you the website. He'd answered any questions you had, didn't matter how awkward.

You had so much pent up arousal. You were horny from days and days of watching nothing but videos. You wanted anything. You hurried up the watch tower stairs, heart thudding in your chest. You step inside, nerves growing as you such in a sharp breath. “Hey, everything okay?” He asks.

You swallow hard. “Yeah…”

“No not really.” You mumble. You take your seat like usual and face away from Johnny for a second. You don’t know how to ask him for help, you feel shameful. “What’s goin on? I do somn?” He asks. “Yeah. Yeah you did. You showed me what porn is and now I feel weird all of the time.” You huff. He laughs. “You don’t feel weird. You’re just horny.” You sigh. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Yeah well. It sucks!” You groan. You feel tears pricking your eyes from your frustration. “What, touching yourself isn’t enough?” He laughs. “Touching myself?”

The thought of you doing that sounds foreign. “Oh dear… don’t tell me you’ve been watching 2 weeks worth of porn and haven’t made yourself cum.” He laughs. You stay quiet. “Poor girl, no wonder you’re so frustrated.” He laughs. You stand up, pacing back and forth slow. You’re trying to think to yourself. “I don’t really know how, no really. I’ve seen videos but they’re usually not helpful in the slightest.” Johnny glides his tongue over his bottom lip. Seeing you so frustrated has him a little riled up himself. “I.. not sure how much trust me.” He laughs.

You turn to look at him. Your pupils are blown wide.

“I could show you… if you wa-“

You nod your head before he even finishes his sentence. He leans forward in his chair, motioning you to come forward with his fingers. Your stomach fills with butterflies.

“Just uh.. take a deep breath, alright?” You nod your head. You’re still standing a ways away from him. He reaches out, pulling you forward by the back of your thigh, until you’re right directly in front of him. He looks up at you. “S’alright lass. Nothing to be nervous about.” He mumbles. You’ve sat next to Johnny sure, but this is different. You’re closer to him than you ever have been. He smells like cologne and hair pomade. You close your eyes as you he reaches for your cargo pants. You don’t make any movements to stop him. He continues. He unbuttons them, slow. He doesn’t want to startle you or move too fast. He wants to give you ample time to stop him. You have a choice, he wants to make that known. He tugs them down slightly, you close your eyes tight. Biting your lip. What you were about to trust him with was a lot. Further than you’ve ever gone with anyone else.

He grasps the waistband of your panties, pushing them down just far enough he could get a hand between them and your skin. He glides his hand between them.

Johnny glides the side of his pointer finger across your slit. Collecting your arousal on his finger. When he draws it away he can see just how wet you are. It drives him fucking crazy.

He parts his fingers, seeing strings of your arousal across them. His cock is rock hard in seconds, by far the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. He lets out a laugh. Shaking his head. “My god you are wet.” he shakes his head, biting his lip. He growls under his breath. He wants to devour you. Fuck you until your legs really shake, until you’re crying out for more. “You been watching more videos, Bonnie?” He asks. You nod your head. “See you’ve found one you like” he chuckles. You chew at your lip nervously. “Johnny..” you whine. “Hm?”

“I want to know what it feels like to cum..” you look down at him. “Please show me.” You whine.

“I’ll show you, doll. Just relax into me okay?” He breathes. “Cmere, why don’t you sit in my lap.” He pulls you forward. You spin around, sitting down on him. You can feel his erection pressing into you. He pushes your cargo pants and panties down further, until one of your legs is completely free. “Prop your leg up on me, don’t be shy.” He sighs. His warm breath is right against your ear. He pushes your hair behind your ear, he wants you to hear him. He’s going to talk you through it.

“Just watch my hand. Do as I say. I’ll show you how lass.” He breathes. You nod your head. Your face is hot, in such a daze you barely even know what’s going on around you. “I’m so horny Johnny.. I can’t take it.” You cry. Tears filling your eyes. “Just watch darling..” he trails his hand across your bare stomach, he’d pulled your shirt up. Pushing down, until his huge hand glides over your mound. Stopping just right at the top. He circles over your clit with two of his fingers, feeling you jump against him. “It’s going to be really sensitive. Since you’ve never touched here before, alright?” You nod your head. You’re panting. “It’s your clit. You try.” He moved his hand lower, drawing circles around your opening as you start to rub your clit. You’re getting more comfortable, relaxing into him. “That’s it. Just keep doing that for me, yeah.” He breathes. He raises his hand to his mouth. Using his saliva to wet down his fingers enough. Circling his spit over your hole. He’s prepping you.

“Deep breath.” He mumbles. You nod your head.

He doesn’t have to stretch you too much. He pushes his finger in, feeling you tense up. “Oh god.” You pant. Wiggling your hips lower into him. You pause your movement, whining out. “Keep rubbing your clit baby. I didn’t say to stop.” He breathes. His voice is low and sexy. He’s turned on. A side of Johnny you hadn’t seen.

He pairs another finger up, pushing it back into you. You gasp, clutching his wrist with your free hand. “There you go darling.” Your breaths get a little more rigid. Nearly panting out as he fingers you. “Keep going darling. Gentle, not too fast now.” He guides you.

“I- oh god!” You cry. “There you go baby. That’s it… give it to me.” He whines, raising his hips into you. You can tell he wants relief of his own.

You grasp his hand, forcing him away. “Woah- hey. Everything okay?” He asks. You stand on one leg. Turning so that you could straddle his lap. Sitting down on him again. “F-fuck..” he grits his teeth. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to know what it’s like.” You look him in the eyes. “Y/N.” He warns. He knows what it is you want.

“Johnny.” You repeat his name back. “Your virginity is really important. I think you’re just really turned on. Not thinking straig-“ he clenches his eyes shut as you rut your hips into his. He swallows hard. “You can’t take it back. Once you do it with me, I’ll always be your first.” He breathes. “I think you should really think about it.” He swallows hard. “I think I’ve got my mind made up, MacTavish.” You sigh, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt. You lean into him, lips brushing over his. You kiss him, hard. He can feel your heart thumping in your chest.

Johnny is in shock. Because this isn’t just another hook up and you’re not just another girl.

You’re Y/N. The girl who is supposed to be so far out of his reach, out of his league even. You’re not someone Johnny ever expected to be sitting in his lap, wanting more than just a kiss even. Wanting to…

He has to draw himself out of his trance. You want your first to be him. And Johnny up until this point is recognized as a scumbag. Everyone knows it. He’s desperate for any kind of attention he’ll get. He knows that this is how people feel about him. Maybe they don’t know him, don’t know that he wants to be loved. He wants it all, using any way he can to get it, even if it does make him look like an asshole.

Not anymore. Johnny wants your attention. Yours and yours only, he knows it.

“Okay.. look at me.” He pushes back. “If you want me to do this, we’re gonna do it right.” You nod your head. “We’ll go slow. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to know that this is how you should be treated. Always. Okay?” You nod your head.

He unbuckles his belt, pushing his jeans down his thighs just enough. You swallow hard at the size of him, not sure what you were expecting. “Are you sure?” You nod your head. Looking at him. You prop yourself up and he helps you. Spitting in his hand and gliding it up his cock. If he had lube he’d use it. Knowing how bad this is about to hurt you. Once he’s got himself lined up with your entrance, you’re eager. Pushing yourself down onto him. He tries to force you to be gentle. You’re in a hurry. Desperate to have him inside of you.

Once you get to that point, where you start to stretch, you slow. Biting your lip. He can tell it’s starting to hurt.

“It’s okay- it’s alright lass. Deep breath for me.” Soaps face crunches up in pleasure, trying his best to conceal it because he doesn’t want to enjoy this when you’re not.

“Oh fuck…” he pants. His voice is so unsteady you can’t help but smile. “Are you okay Johnny?”

“Y-yeah. You just feel so fucking good.” He smiles, eyes closing. “Just a little more, you’re doing so good for me.” He pants. You hiss, and he hesitates. Drawing his hips back into the chair and raising you up slightly. He gathers more arousal at the tip of his cock. Spearing you further onto him. It’s easier to slide like this.

“I’m going to push all of the way alright? Deep breath.” He lowers you completely, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He takes in a sharp breath, standing up with you. It’s not the best place for it, but not the worst. He lays you right on the ground. It’s clean, you’d just cleaned it the night before.

The feeling of all of his body weight on you is intimidating. Something you’ve never felt before. He takes one deep thrust and you’re gasping out, a cry leaving your lips as he penetrates to the deepest parts of you. Just like that, it’s over.

You have your eyes screwed shut and he gives you a couple minutes to adjust before he starts fucking you. He’s slow, trying to ease the pain.

And it works. Your eyes soften as they slowly open, lips going from locked shut to parted. Your hands had a tight hold on his shirt and they’re staring to relax. You were dead quiet, but as he moves you start to pant.

You’re starting to like it.

Soap sighs, thank god.

He keeps a steady pace until he knows you can take more and then he’s rocking his hips into you deeper. “Oh god Johnny.” You mewl, opening your legs wider for him. Giving him complete access to you. His eyes widen.

Johnny has been with his fair share of women, each different from the last. You’re by far the most gentle, skin soft against his. Your clutches are even soft when you run your hands through his mow hawk and grip it. Your body is like a clouded temple and the fact that he’s been allowed inside is something Johnny is going to cherish, he’s never letting this go. He’s made up his mind.

He starts driving himself into you at a brutal pace. You’re trying your best to stay quiet but it’s hard. “Ah, Johnny. S’a lot.” You breathe. “Deep breathes, I said I’d make your legs shake and I intend on it darling.” He chuckles. You can’t help but blush.

He expected it to be easier, but you’re taking a lot. “Johnny I- I’m gonna cum!” You whine. Your legs start to shiver just slightly and he smiles. “Go on doll, show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” You screw your eyes shut, focusing on the knot building and how his cock stimulates the perfect place to make it unwind. He’s getting overwhelmed. This is the first time you’ll ever cum. Not just that. The first time you’ll ever cum, and it’s around his cock. Not from your fingers, or even his. Not a pillow you’re desperately rutting into. Around Johnny’s dick.

He lowers his hand, pressing his fingertips into your clit and your mouth parts in shock, how good he feels is unmatched. A cry barely leaves your lips and he covers your mouth with his hand. Fucking you into your high. When you hit it, your legs shake.

Just like in the videos.

You’re on the verge of crying when Johnny hits his high. He’s panting and whining and it’s almost pathetic as he reaches it. He doesn’t think to pull out.

———

“Y/N. He’s just using you. He wants to fuck you and then dump you. That’s who he is. He’s a loser.” Layla rolls her eyes.

Her words cut through you like a knife. “I.. why are you saying that?”

“Because it’s what guys like him do Y/N. He doesn’t want anything serious. He’d have a girlfriend if that were the case. I bet his body count would cripple you because he’s just a gross loser. He wants sex and no offense, but you’re naive and he knows if he shows up and shows out you’ll be dumb enough to give it to him. No offense.” She waves her hand. “I’m not trying to be a bitch but it’s true. I’m not saying to listen to me, I’m just warning you before you catch feelings and get your heart broken. You heard how he used to talk about you.”

You nod your head. “Thank you.” You mumble, turning away from her. The tears are hot as they spill over your eyelids the moment she can’t see your face anymore. You hurry away.

She was going to go find Johnny.

“I know you’re trying to get your claws into Y/N, but you need to stay away from her.”

She catches Johnny off guard, he’d just gotten off of watch with you. “What are you talking about?” He hurries to cover up the love bites he's got on his neck from you.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been spending so much time with her. I know you. You’re nothing but a loser looking for someone who will put out for you. That’s not her. So leave her alone.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Do I? Because everyone here has heard the way you talk about her and other women.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to prove to you okay? I’m friends with Y/N and I care a lot about her whether you believe it or not." He's getting angry. "Whatever. I guess since she's so stupid and naïve we'll find out when you get her to fuck you." The words are laced with venom.

His face goes stone cold and he pauses, standing straight up and taking a step toward her. He's sharp with her.

"She's not stupid. Say whatever you want about me. Call me a loser, fine. But if you say that to me again we will have a much bigger problem on our hands." He's stern and his voice is quiet. "She's smart and she's had it rough. She's learning everything day by day. Naïve yes. Stupid? Absolutely not. Now back off." He growls. She is a little intimidated but she plays it off with a huff and leaves. His reaction to her calling you stupid had taken her completely off guard.

Maybe he really did have feelings for you.

———

"You know, one way to really find out if he likes her is to hit on him and see if he takes the bait." She shrugs. "Yeah, but I don't want to hurt Y/N by doing that." She sighs. "Layla, she'll get hurt even worse if she gives her V card up to that loser and he treats her like shit after." Her eyes are wide as she looks at her.

"I know Sarah. I guess you're right. Let's give it a go. But I already pissed him off so it's got to be you." She looks up from her tray of food. "Gross. Whatever." She scoffs.

The two wait until that night. Soap gets to the watch tower first and she takes the opportunity, heading up the stairs. Layla stays at the bottom of the stairs just in case.

She wants to stop you at the bottom and give Sarah enough time to do what she needs to do.

"Uh.. something wrong?" You ask. You startle her, she hadn't been paying attention. "Shit! You scared me. No- no nothing is wrong. I just really needed to ask you a question and it couldn't wait." Her response is fast and it has you narrowing your eyes. "What is it?"

"It's... uhh." She pauses, trying to come up with something on the fly. "Look.. about you and Soap..."

"Jesus Layla, I've already starting retracting from him, I really just want this all behind us." You groan, pushing passed her. "Wait!" She grasps your hand. "What is going on? Why are you stalling to keep me down here?" You tear your arm out of her grasp and move further up the stairs but she's hot on your tail. "She's testing him!"

You pause right outside the door. "What?"

"She's going to hit on him to see if he'd cave. Y/N we don't want you to get hurt by him.” She says. "Jesus Christ." You reach for the handle but pause when you hear Soap.

"Sarah, I'm not interested okay? I've told you like 3 times now. I... I like Y/N. And I'm sure she wouldn't like knowing that you're doing this. Because I respect her enough, the moment she comes through those doors I'll tell her." He takes a step back.

You and Layla can hear it on the other side of the door but she tries to stop you as you reach for the door again.

"Oh come on John. You'd be stupid to pass this up." Her voice is low and she's trying to sound sexy. They hear shuffling inside. "You need to leave me alone. I... I love Y/N. You and Layla can believe it or not but I do and I'm done with whatever this is. Back off before I make you."

You shove the door open. "That's enough!" You yell.

Soap and Sarah jump. "What the fuck is the deal?"

"Did you put them up to this?" He asks. "Of course I didn't put them up to this, I'm not fucking crazy." The swears leaving your lips have everyone in the room startled. "I don't know what the obsession is with you two trying to protect me from Soap when it's none of your business!"

"We just don't want you to give your V card to him because he's a fucking loser Y/N!" Layla calls back.

"I already had sex with him!"

The rooms falls quiet.

Their eyes are wide and even Soap is completely baffled. "I already gave him my virginity. I already slept with him, we've had sex multiple times." You have your arms crossed. Scolding them like a mother scolds her kids. "Seriously? Why didn't you lead with that?" Sarah hisses. "Because you both have been acting crazy."

"You.. you love her? You had sex with her and you still like her..?" Layla and Sarah turn to Soap. He looks away. "Yeah. I do. Maybe if you both had given it a chance you would've seen it." He sighs. "I just threw myself at him and he didn't take the bait. I think that's enough for me." Sarah shrugs her shoulders.

"Give us some space please." You sigh.

"Okay.. We owe you a huge apology Y/N. We had no idea." Layla mumbles. "It's fine, we'll talk later." You sigh. They both leave, the moment the door is closed you're locking it behind them. "Those two, my god." You laugh. He starts laughing too. "Yeah, a bit protective." He chuckles. "I'm sorry about that." You roll your eyes.

"It's alright. They're just looking out for you. Hitting on me though, that's a bit crazy."

"Very crazy."

The both of you start laughing, unable to contain it.

"Cat's out of the bag now I guess."

"Yeah, yeah I guess it is." You look up at him. He's beginning to close the distance between the both of you. "You ready to make this official yet or what?" He smirks. "I don't think that that's the way to properly ask a girl out MacTavish."

"I also don't think it was very respectable of you to let me hit it before at least becoming my girlfriend either, Y/L/N." He raises a brow. "Fuck you." You roll your eyes. Playful smile on your lips. "I'll never get used to you cursing like that. It's kind of sexy actually." He leans in, lips right by yours. "Shut up and ask the question Johnny."

"Fine." He laughs.

"Y/N. Will you be my girlfriend? Officially."

"Yes." You laugh. "Thank god." He mumbles, wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist. He pushes you into the wall behind you, you can feel that he's already hard as he presses into you.

"Been waiting weeks to finally hear that lass."

#johnny soap mactavish #soap smut #cod mw soap #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod

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depravitycentral · 3 days ago

Text

Just a few small nsfw thoughts about the yandere haikyuu cast

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual photography/involvement in masurbation, foot stuff in Noya's, spitting, overall just real unfortunate habits they have

Thinking about Daichi Sawamura who is the natural option for you to run to when mysterious packages start showing up at your door. It’s all sorts of intimate items – pretty lingerie that somehow fits you perfectly, all in your favorite colors (and his, too, of course). Then it shifts towards just single items, no longer the pretty babydoll sets – silk thongs with an initial stitched in, collars with your name engraved in the metal tag, vibrators that slowly get longer and thicker. It’s only when one comes that’s much too realistic, leaning slightly to the left and with veins lining the top that you finally confide in Daichi. It all comes tumbling out, and it’s only when you show him the handwritten note with the most recent dildo – reading it’s modeled after my own, let me know how it fits - that Daichi softly sighs, throwing you a look and telling you that you know there’s nothing we can do about it. Creeps like that always get away with it, unfortunately. Just ignore the way his uniform pants are straining at seeing you all teary-eyed and dependent on him – cute. Maybe you’d like another gag – he’s noticed you haven’t used the last one yet.

Thinking about Koushi Sugawara who feels bad about installing the bug on your phone, but not bad enough to disconnect it. It’s not visual, is what he tells himself – it’s not creepy if it’s not looking at you, after all. It only picks up on sound when he activates it – which has let him into a whole other side of you. You bring your phone with you everywhere, he’s realized, and he’s always keeping his headphones on at any given time, playing the live feed and letting his cheeks turn red and his pants grow tight at the sound of you. Your voice, your laugh, your humming, your moans and whimpers and hell, even the sound of you peeing is enough to make him feel light-headed, connected to you in a way that gets his heart racing and his cock swelling. Maybe one day he’ll install the visual one, too, but for now the sound is enough – the audio recordings he takes of you is more than enough fodder should he ever need it.

Thinking about Asahi Azumane, whose apartment is basically your second home. You come over and spend the night often – often enough to have your own toothbrush permanently living at his place, set off to the side and out of the mainly used area of the bathroom counter. It’s a common brand, one that Asahi can find at the corner market – which he does, keeping a constant supply around so that he can replace it each time you use it. He keeps them all stacked nicely in a Ziploc bag, dating each in permanent marker so he can recount and remember all the times you’ve slept under the same roof as him, only a room away. And of course, this makes it much easier to slip the it between his lips and against his tongue, teeth grinding down against the bristles and his eyes fluttering closed because it just feels so very intimate. It’s embarrassing and he keeps everything well hidden from you, but the way he stares as he brushes his teeth beside you is a bit of a give-away that there’s something going on.

Thinking about Ryunosuke Tanaka who keeps a running list of the insults you throw at him. They’re never truly mean, always just jokes or digs at some niche thing about him and his Loverboy attitude, but Ryunosuke notices. He’s transcribing them into his Notes app on his phone, and when he gets home each evening he repeats the insult to himself out loud, saying the word over and over in a mimic of your own voice, letting his hands run down the length of his body as he closes his eyes and melts into memories of your expression, your tone, the way you’d been looking at him. He’s got something of a degradation kink, and he’s training himself to become aroused at the mere mention of a derogatory nickname – it's for the future, he’ll tell himself, so that when he’s got you straddling him, tying him up and keeping him pinned underneath you, he can preform exactly how you want him to. He’ll be good for you – just call him a freak again, please.

Thinking about Yuu Nishinoya always making jokes about feet because he knows it makes you squirm in discomfort, but soon it stops being a joke. He’s always tickling your feet, making exaggerating sucking sounds when you slip your shoes off, even snatching your socks and running around with them, the adrenaline of you chasing him and yelling his name and looking at him him him making him giddy. But then he’s managing to keep the sock one day, curiously rubbing a finger over it as he palms himself, running his leaking, bright red tip against the material and cursing. He’ll wind up using it as a sort of cocksleeve, fucking into it and leaving it so riddled with cum that it’s hard, and suddenly the next time he jokes about you letting him give just one suck, c’mon is less teasing and much more serious.

Thinking of Shoyou Hinata who doesn’t understand why you get so angry when he suggests switching underwear. He thinks it’s sweet – a sign of love and comfort with each other, really. He’ll step into the cute, flimsy panties he buys for you, pulling them up and face twisting up slightly as he adjusts himself, trying his best to get the thong to hold as much of his cock and balls as he can. He feels naughty, wearing them under his shorts when he runs to the store to pick up groceries, and with each step he can feel the lacey material – the very material he’d forced you to strip out of that morning, the material still warm. And of course, you were forced into his boxers – the same ones he'd slept in, smelling musky and feeling wet with something you don’t want to name.

Thinking about Tobio Kageyama who has a full body reaction when he hears you say his name. It’s not subtle, either – he’s going stiff as a board, eyes blowing wide and pupils dilating, visible goosebumps erupting all over his skin. His breathing gets a bit heavier, and every muscle in his body is flexed, clenched so tightly that he can hardly move. He’ll stare at you, lips focused entirely on your lips, murmurs leaving his own that sound vaguely like your name, vaguely like fuck. You’ll have to pull him out of the moment yourself, with a touch to his shoulder or waving your hand in front of his face, and it’s only then that he’ll clear his throat, shifting in his pants and realizing much too late that he’s visibly hard, a bit of sweat visibly staining his exercise shirt under the armpits. He’ll make some lame excuse and run away, but as he fists his cock and replays the moment over in his head, he’ll be whining your name and your name only.

Thinking about Kei Tsukishima who feels so, so very stupid but can’t help but bite his lip as he scrolls through Spotify. There’s a separate, private folder of playlists he’s curated, each lasting easily two hours, all with different, single word titles. Doggy, cowgirl, lotus, 69. There’s ten or so, and they get updated at least once a day. It’s music that he can almost too easily imagine touching you to – slowed, passionate, your favorite songs, almost all of them coming from recommendations you yourself gave him. He just can’t help the mental imagery that fills him the moment he hears the chords and the singer’s voice – immediately you’re perched in his lap, tits pressed against his own chest and grinding on him so slowly that he’s near tears, desperation filling him and suddenly his finger’s tapping before he knows it, the little ‘saved to edging’ notification popping up at the bottom of his screen. It’s mortifying, really, but so is the silence only interrupted by the bassy thump thump that would otherwise fill up his bedroom every night.

Thinking about Tadashi Yamaguchi who splurges for his birthday and buys himself a customized life-sized body pillow with you printed on it. He’d been bright red the whole time he’d been ordering, the prized photo of you – scantily clad in your cute, revealing pajamas with your breasts just barely contained by the top – uploaded to the cute little Etsy shop. The package had arrived not soon enough, and he’s both flushed and breathing erratically the moment he rips open the packaging, wide eyes nearly tearing up at the sight of you – well, almost you. He’d paid extra to have the little audio insert sent alongside it, and as he records an audio he’d saved of you teasingly telling him goodnight ‘Dashi, love you, he’s shivering in excitement. It’s a shame that he stains the fabric with cum the first night, but a quick wash leaves it good as new – leaves you good as new.

Thinking about Tooru Oikawa and the pretty dildo he’s got buried away in his closet. It’s smooth, a pale pink color that reminds him of Sakura blossoms – that reminds him of you. He doesn’t use it often; only when he’s been on long, long stints away from home, tournaments and games making his muscles sore, his eyes sag, his heart ache in his chest. But as he sprits your perfume on it and whines your name as he sits down on it, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he remembers how he snatched this from your own closet after having watched you fuck yourself on it through your bedroom window.

Thinking about Hajime Iwaizumi who absolutely loves the big, pretty mirror you have in your bedroom. It’s the first thing he notices when he walks in for the first time, and it’s also the first thing he looks up when he gets home that night. And when he’s got you spread out on his cock a few months later, the locks on the doors numerous with passcodes he’ll never tell you, he’s sure you’ll be a bit relieved to see something familiar on your new bedroom’s walls. And he’ll tell you as much, gruff voice in your ear as he bounces you in his lap like some kind of toy, telling you to look at the mirror, baby, lookin’ so pretty… And when you cry he’ll wince, but the way his cock throbs inside you is telling.

Thinking about Kotarou Bokuto who calls you when he’s touching himself, narrating to you exactly what he’s doing. Of course, it’s not from his own phone – he likes to think it’s more exciting if it’s an unknown number. Maybe he’s seen too many TikTok thirsts about men in masks and Scream, but he thinks you’ll like the mystery. So when you stop picking up, he’ll just leave voicemails – always groaning and moaning your name, putting the microphone on the phone right up next to his fist, the wet schlock schlock sounds loud and clear. It’s risky and dirty, and when you bring it up the next time he sees you, complaining and confiding in him that some fucking creep is leaving horrible messages for you, he’ll only play along, convinced you’re hiding your true feelings to avoid looking like a pervert. But that’s okay, he likes that you’re a pervert! So pick up next time, yeah?

Thinking about Keiji Akaashi who, when the late hours and pages upon pages of editing the same manga get to him, will switch over to edit the more lewd, more explicit series he’d recently been assigned. Yeah, maybe it’s illegal to be photocopying the pages when there’s particular scenes that appeal to him, and maybe there’s something ever so slightly creepy about printing your photos and cutting out your face, pasting them onto the hentai’s protagonist and doing the same with his own photos, but it’s not a big deal. At least, it’s not a big deal until you find the volumes upon volumes of different almost collaged panels with your photos, all strung together in Keiji’s own personal fantasies of exactly what he wants to do to you, fit with his own handwriting covering the neatly White-outted text bubbles.

Thinking about Tetsurou Kuroo who purposefully gets a desk at work that can be raised to standing height. It’s not often, but when his mind is wandering and he can’t sit still while thoughts of you become unbearable, he’ll bring the desk up slightly. Standing up, he’ll align the wood right below his groin, shuffling forward and gently resting his clothed erection against the surface, sighing and rolling his head back as he lightly thrusts forwards and back. The fantasy of having you bent over the desk is too strong to ignore, and when you – his oh so sexy little assistant – come knocking at his door, he’s thanking anything that’s listening that you can’t see the way wet spreads across the front of his slacks.

Thinking about Kenma Kozume who only plays Sims because he has characters for the two of you. There’s no other avatars, solely and only the two of you. He’s curated your character to have your hair, your eyes, your body proportions, even buying special packages and programming his own mods to make it happen. The house you’re both living in is, he’ll admit, a bit excessive – there’s beds in every room, and the very first thing he’ll do each time he opens the game is immediately press the WooHoo button, zooming in on the monitor to get as close to your pixelated forms as possible. He’ll gulp and palm himself, eyes unblinking and repeating the command until he’s panting and gasping and staring at the sticky mess he’s left behind.

Thinking about Lev Haiba who’s not good at the up-skirt photos he tries to take. He’s not subtle, the camera flash going off and making you stiffen up. It’s easy to brush off with him though, his little laugh and scratching the back of his neck, telling you that he’s just supposed to be taking ‘candid photos of myself, something my new agency’s been wanting! Hey, look at that bird over there, so cute right?’ The flash as you turn around is less noticeable, but the way he audibly groans at the sight of your pretty panties certainly isn’t.

Thinking of Wakatoshi Ushijima who can’t quite understand why you’re uncomfortable when he stands so close to you. He’s always creeping up behind you, unnaturally quiet for someone so large, and suddenly you’ll feel this looming, overwhelming presence behind you, his breath hitting the crown of your head and making your hair tickle your neck and throat. He’s standing nearly flush with you, his cock mere centimeters from your ass, the smell of his cologne invading every one of your senses. He’ll only stare, stonefaced when you yelp and whirl around, only swallowing when you lightly swat his chest, irritation rippling through your tone when you tell him don’t sneak up on me like that! He doesn’t mean to scare you, really, but there’s something about being so close to you that makes his heart race, and he’s heard from all his teammates in the locker rooms about how women ‘love it from behind’, and he can only assume this is what they mean. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s convinced that with enough time, you’ll grow to enjoy him standing behind you like a shadow, breathing down your neck and audibly inhaling at the juncture of your neck – television tells him as much, so why do you always shy away when he tells you that you smell heavenly?

Thinking of Eita Semi who, despite his best efforts, can’t find it in himself to reject a band admirer when she approaches him after a show. It’s not you and he’s not initially interested in her at all, but as she stays persistent and his numerous texts to you remain unanswered, Eita finds himself noticing that you have similar lips, similar hair, similar hips. It’s not actually cheating if he pretends it’s you, right? It feels sacrilegious to touch another woman, sure, but he’s actively moaning out your name, telling her to shut up when she says something he doesn’t think you would. And it starts a troubling pattern – you won’t sleep with him and he doesn’t want to pressure you, but the sexual frustration of desperately wanting to touch you and being unable to makes him crazy, willing to do anything to get even a phantom taste of you. He’ll apologize profusely if you ever find out, getting to his knees and begging you to forgive him, claiming he did it for you, but it’s a temporary solution for now. Just until you give him a taste of what he’s been dreaming of for months.

Thinking of Satori Tendou who picked up photography as a hobby once his feelings for you formed. He’s still a bit unsure about photographing you without your consent, but then you go and do something that makes his throat dry up, his fingers unable to stay still because you’re just so damn cute and he can’t help himself. He keeps all the photos in a special box, placed neatly and gently in the corner of his closet. They’re all labeled on the back with the date, time, and location, even a few jots of what he was thinking at the time of the photo capture. They’re by and large mostly innocent, but there’s a few that he’d been rash with, snapping the photo and feeling guilt away at him. Writing down the fantasies he’d had with each time he uses the photo to masturbate had been embarrassing at first, but each time he rifles through the photos – which are perfectly pristine, not a drop of cum or even spit anywhere to be seen – he’s poring through his notes, biting his lip and curling his toes as he remembers particularly vivid fantasies, all driven forward by your smiling face or your unaware figure. And while he’ll never offer to show them to you, should you ask he’d reluctantly agree, watching with baited breath to see which ones you like – which fantasies you want to try out.

Thinking of Tsutomu Goshiki who still, even as a young adult, finds himself getting flustered when he watches porn. He’s consuming as many videos as he can find, but he often finds himself clicking off of the video almost as soon as the actual sex starts – he’s interested in the lead up, rather than the act itself. He’s diligently studying the scripts, the scenarios placed forward, the way the women seem to go crazy for a few common, simple lines. He’s noting everything down and practicing the lines, looking at himself in the mirror and adding in your name just to get used to saying it without blushing. He’s convinced that because the women in porn would like these lines, so would you – of course, you would not enjoy being told that he’s the delivery pizza guy and that you’ll need to pay with your body, but Tsutomu doesn’t quite understand that. Surely it’s real – it’s porn, and he’s sure that he’ll be able to fuck you just the way he sees on his screen. He’ll make you scream just like all the women do – he promises.

Thinking of Shinsuke Kita who will let you bathe on your own, but never alone. He’s pulling up a stool beside the bathtub before you can protest, those eyes unblinking as he gets nice and settled in. He’s smiling gently at you, asking you if the water is the right temperature, if you’d like to a use a bathbomb, if you want any help shampooing or scrubbing your body. It’s unnerving if only because the nonchalance is infuriating, but his hands stay perfectly still on his lap, palms flat against the material of his trousers. He’s visibly growing hard as you quickly wash your body, still staring, but he makes no move to act on it. It’s only once he’s watched you settle into bed, promising he’ll be up soon, that he makes his move. The water’s cold by now, but he still sinks into the porcelain with a stifled grown, letting the bath water slip past his lips and cover his face, enjoying every bit of residue of you.

Thinking of Atsumu Miya who’s notorious for PDA with you long before you’ve accepted your fate. He’s always inviting you to his games, getting you special seating so that you’re as close to the court as possible, and after each win he’s pulling you into a searing, bruising, loud kiss. It’s dramatic and it’s entirely too much, but the cameras flash and the headlines spur with details of his supposed relationship with you. It’s all for publicity, he’ll tell you, apologizing but telling you that y’understand, right? It’s for his career, he promises, to make himself look better for the media, but the way he’ll slowly pull away and whimper your name so that only you can hear isn’t quite as publicity-driven as he claims. At least, when he groans and lets his eyes flutter closed afterwards, it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Thinking of Osamu Miya who, of course, has a rather nasty habit of infusing his cooking for you with something salty, bitter, and off-white, but he’s got yet another secret hidden up his sleeve. It takes him a while to work up to coming in your food, desperation driving him mad with the urge to somehow stake a claim on you, but letting his lips pucker and spitting into the frying, sizzling meal he’s whipping up for you? Well, that’s much less sinister, isn’t it? It’s less creepy, he thinks, and it’s easier – he can spit once, twice, five times in a single dish, watching with hawk eyes when you groan and praise his cooking after the first bite. It’s a secret, and the only tell he has is that he’ll bite his lips, Adam’s apple harshly bobbing, his fist clenching and his pants getting tight because oh, you think it tastes good?

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starlit-writer · 16 hours ago

Text

in sickness and in health, ch. 3 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter three!!!! this chapter did NOT go the way i thought it would, but i promise we're getting to the whole simon groveling and begging and all that lovely stuff soon - i just cant seem to stop writing these two FIGHTING! as always, if you want to be added to the tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 4,208 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

You were in a forest, surrounded by pines. Snow was drifting down slowly, coating the needles around you in light flakes before they melted from the heat of your breath as you stared up at the grey sky. You felt… at peace, for the first time in a long time. You were wrapped securely in the knotted roots of one of the pine trees as they wrapped themselves over and between the straps of your tactical vest, the wood gently resting against a sticky scarlet mark where your heart was supposed to be. You turned your head as much as the roots would allow, and you could see flames in the distance of the forest, a cacophony of gunshots and explosions ricocheting through your ears as the scent of smoking pine and wet gunpowder reaches your nostrils-

You woke up with a start, a gasp of air drawing through your dry, chapped lips sharply, the movement causing your aching ribs to spasm in a coughing fit. Your hands flew up to your chest to check for the wound that you were so convinced would be there, only to be met with the soft, warm, flesh of a massive tattooed bicep that was flung across your chest. But the everpresent scent of smoked pine, wet gunpowder, and a freshly-lit cigarette was still burned into your nostrils.

It was just a dream.

You blinked a few times, the light filtering through the blinds too bright for your blurry eyes to handle. You tried to lift your head, to move, but your body felt far too heavy and sluggish. You were reduced to your basest of instincts - you felt better than you had in months, but it felt like your omega side had completely overridden your logical one. You tried again to speak, to move, anything, but all that came out from your too-dry mouth was a cracking, reedy omega whine.

That made the heavy arm that was draped over your chest move. It quickly lifted off of you, the bed that you were laying on dipping and shifting like sand underfoot as the massive bulk next to you moved. You flinched slightly as rough fingertips gently touched your cheek, the image of Simon’s face swimming above you as a look of concern furrowed his brow. Oh. That would explain why that scent was swimming around you. If you two had been in a normal, healthy mating bond, it probably would have been easier to recognize. But after the months of distance, and neglect, you had forgotten your own alpha’s scent.

You felt it as your own face morphed into a matching expression. Where were you? Why is Simon here? What the fuck happened? You opened your mouth to say something scathing, the words nipping at the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak, the back of Simon’s hand traced down your cheek, almost reverent in his guilt.

“Shh, shh, love. You’re okay, you’re okay. ‘M ‘ere. Just don’t… don’t move, okay? I’ve got some water here for ya-” his voice broke off as he twisted his torso, keeping one hand securely under your head while the other grabbed a white styrofoam cup with a bright white plastic straw sticking up from the lid and brought it back over to the bed. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, as the sight of the sterile-looking aerated plastic and the very thought of drinking the disgusting water contained inside made your stomach dip in disgust.

Simon could have cried when he felt your disgust through the bond, the cavernous darkness that had shrouded you from him in his mind finally lifting enough to allow him to feel you again. However, that didn’t stop your feeling of disgust, even if it was directed at the apparently devil-like cup in his hands and not at him, from lodging into his chest like the blade of a knife. He winced and quickly moved the cup away from you, frantically looking around his quarters for some other source of water. When he didn’t find one, a short curse fell from his lips as he glanced back at you sympathetically, regret and guilt shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I- I just grabbed this from medbay… there’s some vitamins and electrolytes and whatever else you combat medics throw in it, and I figured that that would help since, you know, you’ve been asleep for three days.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Three days? Three days!? You could vomit, and you probably would have if there had been anything in your stomach.

Simon sighed, screwing his eyes shut as he realized that was probably not the best way to tell you that information. He brought his hand - the one still holding that damn cup - up to his face, rubbing his eyes with the back of his thumb. Gods, he sucked at this. He ran his hand down his face and moved to get up from the bed. “I’ll just… yeah, I’ll just go get you some, um, different water in a different glass and… yeah, I’ll be right back.”

As he moved to get up from the bed, your hand weakly shot out, your fingers feebly wrapping around his wrist. Simon glanced down at your hand in thinly-veiled shock before he looked at you. You were just as shocked. You were still angry, at least, you knew you should be, but the only thing you could focus on was the way your omega writhed in pain at the mere thought of Simon walking away from you again.

“You need to drink some water. And if you won’t drink it out of this,” he said as he raised the cup, “then I gotta get you something else.”

You looked up at him pleadingly, an absolutely pathetic look on your face. You didn’t have the strength or energy to fight against the instincts right now. Everything in you was screaming and clawing at the idea of Simon leaving, even just to get you more water, and your instincts didn’t care about how it looked, or if it made you seem like you forgave him and were willing to forget everything that happened. You knew, logically, that you weren’t, but logic was so far out of the realm of control, the only thing reacting in your mind was your wounded omega, desperate for the proximity of her alpha.

“I don’t wanna force you to drink this if it grosses you out that bad.”

Another needy, desperate whine was his only response as you let go of his wrist, your shaking hand held outstretched to take the cup. It was a clear message - I’ll drink it. Just don’t leave.

Simon’s gaze softened as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, bringing the straw close to your lips. You closed your eyes, the moment feeling far too intimate for the reality of your relationship with Simon as your dry, chapped lips wrapped around the plastic of the straw. After a few moments of forcing down the polluted-dirt tasting water, Simon slowly and gently pulled the straw away from you, his free hand coming up to your face to brush an errant strand of your hair behind your ear. His heart ached as your eyes fluttered open, still cold and guarded even as he could feel your omega pleading for him to stay through the bond.

“Feel better?”

You nodded slowly, the movement disjointed and sluggish as you brought a shaking hand up to wipe a small droplet of water off of your lips. “Yeah,” you muttered, the words thick and gruff with disuse. The thanks that should have followed that response stayed stuck in your throat like a pill that was much too big to swallow.

Simon nodded in response as he sat the cup back down on the bedside table. He then grabbed a wrapped protein bar, and tore open the packaging with his teeth. With the unwrapped protein bar in hand, he turned back to you, holding the bar near your face. “Eat.”

A pause, a short breath leaving Simon’s lips as he realized that a demand was probably not the best way to get you to do something at the moment.

“Please,” he amended, his voice softer, gentler. “You need to get your strength up,” he added, shifting the bar a little closer to your lips.

You knew he was right, ultimately, but it wounded your ego, accepting his help after all of the neglect he had put you through. You sighed softly and shifted on the bed with a groan as your muscles protested against the tiniest of movements. Simon’s hand quickly wrapped around your aching shoulder to help shift you on to your side, and you settled back down into the bed, lifting your head up slightly to take a small bite out of the protein bar. You figured it would be impossible to swallow, as all food had been the last few months, but you were shocked to find it easy to get down. You sat up slowly, achingly, agonizingly slowly, but Simon, shockingly, was there to support you. You reached out and took the bar from him, suddenly ravenous.

Simon watched as you all but scarfed down the protein bar, his gaze softening with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his now-empty hands. He hated himself, the guilt and regret of being so blind to you throughout the entirety of your marriage, your mating bond, eating him alive.

You froze, mid-chew of the last bite as you heard his murmured apology. You didn’t know how to respond, feeling like a deer in the headlights of his sin.

“Simon…”

“No, I… I am. Gods, angel, you have no idea how sorry I am. I was such a dick to you, such a bad fuckin’ alpha, and I know that my words probably don’t mean much, or, really, anything to you, but… if I could reverse time, do it all over again, I…”

“Simon, stop,” you croaked out, your gaze fixated on the comforter that pooled against your sweatpant-clad legs, anything to keep your eyes off of him. You couldn’t look at him. It was all too much, far too quickly, and you had nowhere to even begin to parse through the emotions and pain that still existed under your skin like a thrashing beast, even if it felt more subdued than it did three days ago. You didn’t want to think too hard on that, though, wanted to ignore the way your alpha’s presence, his scent calmed the ugly thing, if only slightly.

You couldn’t - wouldn’t - forgive him. Not right now. Sure, he had kept one promise; he had stayed with you, but in the grand scheme of things? It didn’t mean much. You smoothed your hand over the soft comforter, balling the now-empty wrapper of the protein bar in your other hand. Too many emotions, too little time. You felt like you were trapped between your base omega desires and the reality of your situation. The wrapper crinkled in your hand louder as your grip became tighter, the atrophied muscles in your arms shaking with exertion and emotion.

You felt Simon’s hand as it inched closer to you, more than likely to try and bring you comfort, but you couldn’t take it. Right before his hand touched yours, you jerked it away, throwing the wrapper into some random corner of his room in your panic. You quickly scrambled out of the bed, your need to get away from him, from the situation, much greater than any of the aches and pains of your neglected body. You stood in the center of the room, your chest heaving from the exertion as you steadied yourself on your feet, your legs wobbling beneath you.

Simon just stared at you, wide-eyed and frozen.

You stared right back. Your mind was a mess, fractured between your omega and your logical, rational side. Your omega was screaming, tearing at the confines of your skin at the very idea of leaving your alpha, but you pushed it away. You felt cornered, and you were lashing out like a feral cat.

“I- I gotta go.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, and all but ran out of the room. Simon was still sitting on the edge of the bed, shellshocked and staring at the space in the center of his quarters that you were just occupying.

–

It had been about a week since you had left Simon’s quarters. That first day, after you had left, you were violent, volatile - your own quarters destroyed as you tried to release all of the pent-up emotions by throwing anything and everything you could get your hands on before you collapsed into little more than a heap of tears in the middle of all of the broken glass and ripped papers. You had slept there that night, on your floor, but when you woke up, there was one of Simon’s sweatshirts outside of the door of your quarters with a note.

I know you don’t want to see me right now. I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But the bond is still fragile. Just keep this around, please? -Simon

Part of you wanted to burn it, still so full of rage and pain, but the desperation of your omega had you pressing your face into the soft, plush fabric, a small omega purr unconsciously pulling past your lips. As soon as the sound of your purr reached your ears, you threw the article of clothing onto the ground as if it was a ticking incendiary bomb. It was still there, in that corner, but it cursed the entirety of your quarters to smell like Simon, the scent of smokey pine, wet gunpowder, and the first drag of a cigarette cloying to everything, no matter how many of your own clothes you piled on top of it.

The rest of that week had passed by you like a blur. You had mostly stayed in your quarters, focusing on how to control and push down your omega desires, instead replacing them with the rage you knew you should feel towards Simon, definitely not because it was the only place that you could still smell him, certainly not. It was just that the thought of being seen out and about when your emotions and physical health were so volatile seemed like it wouldn’t be the best of ideas, and that was definitely the only reason.

But, today was the first day that you had actually gotten up and took a shower. Looking in the mirror, you noticed that your skin looked much more lively, the sickly grey of the bond sickness had dissipated, and the bruises that had covered your skin had all but faded away. It made you feel… wrong almost, to be, to look, “fixed”. The torment that you had undergone still lived and breathed in your very bones, and seeing yourself without the physical marks of it, even if they were self-inflicted, felt wrong. So, you quickly tugged on some workout gear, grabbed your keys, and left your quarters, determined to make someone pay for the grief and rage that thrummed under your skin.

You dumped your keys and your sweatshirt in a corner by the sparring ring, stretching for a moment as you scanned the gym. Plenty of people to spar with, but, more importantly, no Simon. And, before you knew it, an unsuspecting, far too cocky beta recruit was swaggering up to you. He was new to the base, you could tell. Fresh out of basic training, by the looks of it. You pushed a smirk down off of your lips, as you wanted the challenge. Wanted him to fuck up just so you could absolutely let loose. You batted your eyelashes up at him, really playing into the whole weak omega stereotype.

You ran your gaze up and down the recruit, sinking your teeth into your plush lower lip. You watched as the recruit’s eyes lit up at your actions, obviously taking them as flirtatious. Meanwhile, all you had wanted to do was knock him off his axis, get him thinking hazy.

The recruit smirked, rubbing his hands together. “Name’s Conwell. James Conwell. Need a sparring partner?”

You grinned up at him, the expression so fake and sickly-sweet as you leaned towards him slightly, clasping your hands in front of you. If it pushed your tits together, what was the harm in that?

“Oh, yeah, James, that’d be great! I might need a few pointers though. You okay with that?” The grin that the recruit gave you was downright predatory as he nodded and slipped between the ropes, bouncing around and shadowboxing, obviously trying to show off. You quickly stifled a laugh behind your hand, clearing your throat before you slipped between the ropes as well. Gods, new recruits, especially new beta recruits, were such easy marks. They always had such a chip on their shoulder, desperate to prove themselves, and certainly not above pretending to be something they weren’t to do so. And as you settled into your side of the ring, you could smell just how desperate this recruit was to be something he wasn’t.

He had sprayed fake alpha pheromones on himself. The scent was nauseating, making your stomach roll. But, you pushed it down. You’d play the part, let him get one or two good hits in, then it would be game over for the poor boy.

“How do I start this?” You asked innocently, looking down at the smooth vinyl that coated the floor of the ring. The beta’s (Jim?) grin widened as he sunk into his own fighting stance.

“Just like this, pretty girl.”

You suppressed a disgusted shudder at his words, painting that saccharine faux-innocence on your expression as you pretended to copy him, sinking into your own stance. Yours was a much stronger base, your legs spread wider to better accommodate your movement, your fists actually tucked up to your face as protection, unlike the way the beta kept his hands low over his bare chest, obviously believing the lie that you were no threat.

“You should probably swing first, you know, show an omega like me how an alpha does it.”

That did it. His eyes glinted with that repulsive possessiveness that every douchebag gets when you stroke their ego just right, when you pretend to believe a lie that they’ve tried so hard to force to be truth. And so he did, but it arched wide, giving you the perfect opportunity to dodge under and land a jab right in the left side of his ribs. You popped up, a glee-filled smile on your lips, genuine this time, as you looked at him as he gasped for air, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

He blinked, bewildered, as his head swiveled from side to side in an effort to find where you went. Once his eyes zeroed in on you, his lips pressed into a thin, angry smile, the kind that someone would give an annoying child after they spilt their snack for the third time in a row. “Wow, quick learner, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess!” Your words were bright, your eyes filled with a predatory glint that you tried to hide as you beckoned him tauntingly. “C’mon! That was fun!”

The beta growled in a terrible impression of an alpha rumble, swinging out in the exact same way. It forced you to wonder what the fuck they were teaching these kids in basic training nowadays. The velocity of this punch was slow, and you knew you had to let him get at least one punch in if you wanted this to last any longer than a few minutes before he stormed off with his tail tucked between his legs in embarrassment. Normally, you would have braced yourself for a hit that you knew was coming, but something else hit you before the punch could. Smoked pine. Wet gunpowder. First hit of a cigarette after a stressful mission. It pulled your attention just long enough to allow the beta’s punch to land squarely in your ribs, the force of the impact much greater than the velocity, which promptly knocked all of the air from your lungs. You stumbled back a little, but you forced your gaze to stay on your opponent, not allowing yourself to get distracted by the pheromones that had settled over you like an oppressive coat.

That was, until, you heard an actual alpha growl emanating from the door of the gym. It was so loud, so full of anger, that it caused everyone to stop what they were doing. You rolled your eyes, shaking out your shoulders as you sank back down into your fighting stance, but your opponent was frozen, his hands dropped as he turned to look at where the growl had come from. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was staring at. You sighed, your head dropping as you saw Simon’s long, purposeful strides carrying his massive bulk up to the ring. You heard your opponent get pulled from the ring, and before you knew it, Simon was in front of you, lifting your head up with gentle fingers.

“Did he hurt-”

You forcefully knocked his hand off of your chin, your eyes hardening. A small omega growl ripped past your lips as they curled up in displeasure. “Oh my gods, fuck off! We were just sparring!”

Simon’s gaze darkened as he looked down at you, but he, thankfully, didn’t touch you again. “You smell like fuckin’ shit. What, fake pheromones are what does it for ya now, huh?”

Your growl increased in volume as you shoved against his chest. The anger, pain, and guilt that swam between the two of you was almost tangible, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You didn’t care. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what ‘does it for me’,” you mocked as you put sarcastic air quotes around the repeated words.

Most of the gym had cleared out by now. Everyone knew how volatile the two of you could be separately, and when they sensed the heightened anger and emotions between you two, they quickly disappeared. For the few stragglers that were left, Simon fixed them with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean, and they quickly packed their things and also scurried away.

“You wanna fucking punch something?” Simon growled as he took a step closer to you. “Punch me. Not some stupid prick tryna peacock around as if he’s an alpha. You fuckin’ smell like that shit ass cologne he was trying to pass off as his own.”

A downright predatory grin spread over your lips. You were pissed. Pissed that he was here, that he had taken away the one outlet that you knew you had to work through all of these emotions. So, you bit back. You knew you were playing with fire. It was one thing you were always good at, part of the reason the team, especially Simon, called you spitfire.

“Oh, is that what that was? It smelled so good, I thought it was real.”

You were lying, and the smirk that spread over Simon’s lips confirmed that he knew it too. You shook your head, blowing out a frustrated breath as you moved to step around Simon. You didn’t want to be around him right now. His hand shot out to grab at your wrist, but you jerked it away from him.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you bit out as your teeth ground together. “I didn’t need you to come save me, and you had no right to storm in here like this.”

“No right?” Simon seethed lowly as he turned his head to look at you. “No right? Pretty sure that’s my fucking teeth marking that mating gland right there on the side of your neck!”

You froze, slowly turning to fully face him now. Your expression was set into a mask of absolute, unbridled rage that Simon had never been on the receiving end of. Your fists were clenched impossibly tight at your sides, and you could feel the anger rolling off of you in hot, tangible waves. You had known Simon didn’t know how to be a mate, but you had never imagined that this is the way he would deem acceptable to treat you. No matter what, you were a soldier first, more than capable of taking care of yourself, you didn’t need him breathing down your neck like some sort of denmother. It almost seemed like he was trying to overcorrect from his mistakes, becoming overbearing and overprotective. That almost pissed you off more.

“If that is how you think this bond is going to go, especially after everything you did, I will cut this mating bond out myself. Do not test me.”

You didn’t wait for a response. With that, you stepped off of the mat, grabbed your things, and walked out, not even bothering to look behind you as your hand rubbed harshly over the mating bite on your neck.

---------------------------------

as always, thank you so so much for the support, and keep an eye out for chapter four! tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy @alkalineapparition @cringeycookies

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thehollowwriter · 2 days ago

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No Yan Sim Au- Finn!

(Thank you @quartztwst for this absolutely WONDERFUL art of Finn <3 His design is amazing)

Forgive me for lack of game mechanic mentions idk enough about the game 😭

Some General Stuff:

☆Finn has known Azul for a long time but nobody's talked to him enough to gauge how he feels towards the guy (apart from maybe @inotonline 's Chiyo) He does however appear to be protective of Azul (and Chiyo)

☆Finn is aware Quartz wants to do... something to Azul. He's very quick to notice Quartz's presence and will pull Azul away somehow. He has yet tip her off that he knows she's up to something.

☆Finn's reputation is pretty awful. He's regarded as off-putting/creepy and weird, and the reputation of his Papa doesn't help things. He can behave unpredictably at times, and it's best to be careful and avoid insulting him unless you wanna lose an eye to a pallete knife/j

☆Finn's the son of the infamous butcher (rumour has it he's a cannibal 😱) who works and lives in the more sketchy and violent part of town, though you wouldn't guess it when looking at him (well, unless he's using red paint or you're in his biology class... he's always first in line for dissections)

☆Yes, Finn is wearing a skirt! He doesn't like pants and clothes in general irritate his skin so he likes dressing in stuff he finds more bearable. Gnc king/j

☆Though his club is dedicated to the study of butterflies and moths, he cheats a bit and does art there too

☆Finn is autistic!

☆Tbh mainly just refer to his bio for his personality cause Finn's mostly the same as always just without the sibling trauma XD (unless...)

☆Doesn't really mind the other "rivals". His main concern is keeping Azul away from Quartz

Finn's Items:

☆Headphones: A gift from @inotonline's Chiyo. The noise cancelling headphones prevent Finn from being overstimulated, and he can often be seen wearing them

☆Boning knife: Yes, you heard me, a boning knife. Finn barely parts with it as it was a gift from his Papa and, well, you never know if you may need it (*cough* side eyes Quartz) He knows how to butcher a carcass, a person is the same, just more squirmy •v•/J

☆Phone: Finn's always taking pictures of things and making notes about those things on his phone, though he's rarely actually seen using it. He does digital art on there too, since he can't affordna tablet

☆Keys: Finn has keys to the art room/department that he always keeps on hand. No one knows how he got them but here we are. Getting the keys from him could unlock a new location gameplay wise I suppose?

This is all I've got for now! I hope you enjoyed and again thank you SO MUCH Quartz for creating this amazing au and awesome art of Finn

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl

@poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk

@thegoldencontracts

@sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry @skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewin @lumdays

@theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife @authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras

@moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl @quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @devosin

@oya-oya-okay @b0njourbeach @kirans-wonderland

@coffinkissez @idikeis @s-t-y-x

#quinn quips #quinn's friends #quartz #finn clearcove #octavinelle #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst au #yandere sim au

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animamii · 13 hours ago

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Kiss Me Thru The Phone | Toji Fushiguro

Toji's been locked up for too long and misses his pretty girl deeply.

Was listening to Kiss Me Thru The Phone by Soulja Boy, which was always my go to song for my irl jailbird cougarrrr. But Toji is better so it's his song now c;

warnings; smut, duh. phone sex.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧

This is a collect call from Tokyo Correctional Facility from

"Toji Fushiguro," his voice raspy and nonchalant as always, a stark contrast to the excitement bubbling inside you.

If you accept the charges, please press 1.

Like second nature you instantly press one. 'This phone call will be recorded and subject to monitoring...' the autonomous voice instructs. The line clicks, a soft trill signaling the connection, and then a faint beeping tone echoes through your receiver. Your heart pounds in anticipation, your grip on the phone tightening as the line goes silent for just a beat too long. A beeping tone goes off, and your heart beats heavily.

"Hey princess," Toji's voice, low and gravelly, rolls through the phone. A smile instantaneously forms on your face, it's been a while since you had spoken to Toji on the phone. His ass was always getting thrown into ad seg for one reason or another.

"Hi baby," your voice is soft and sweet, and Toji feels his heart swelling as he finally hears your voice in what feels like forever. No matter how hardened life makes him, hearing your voice always makes him melt.

“Damn, it’s good to hear you,” he mutters, his tone a little softer now. "They threw my ass in the hole cause some fuckface wanted to try and take the box of Honeybuns from the package you sent me last week."

"Of course they did," you reply with a light laugh, shaking your head. "You can't go a month without stirring up trouble, can you?"

"It's not my fault," Toji defends, the familiar cockiness in his voice making your stomach flutter. "You send me the good shit, princess. You think I'm gonna let some punk get his hands on my Honeybuns?"

You bite your lip to suppress a giggle, imagining him in his element, standing tall and intimidating, defending your care package like his life depended on it. "Well, at least now I know how much you appreciate my efforts."

"Appreciate?" Toji scoffs playfully. "Baby, I worship the ground you walk on for those packages. You should see these guys. They're practically drooling over the stuff you send me. It’s like I’m a king in here."

"Aweee babyyyy," you coo, biting your lip as your cheeks heat up. Toji always knew just what to say to make you feel giddy like a young girl in love for the first time. "Just for that I'll send you something extra special next week."

Toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, sending a warm shiver down your spine. "You’re too good to me, princess. You’ve got me spoiled," he says, and though his tone is teasing, there’s a genuine softness beneath his words.

"Someone’s gotta take care of you," you reply, your voice playful but full of affection. "You’re lucky I love you enough to deal with all this drama."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it," Toji mutters, his voice dropping an octave. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go. Ever."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the weight of his sincerity making your chest tighten. "You don’t have to," you whisper. "I’m not going anywhere, Toji."

"Good," he says firmly, the possessiveness in his tone sending a rush of heat through you. "Cause when I get out of here, you’re mine. Completely. No one else gets a second of your time."

"You already have me," you say softly, the vulnerability in your voice making him pause.

"I know," he murmurs after a moment, his tone unusually tender. "And that’s the only thing keeping me sane in this place. Knowing I’ve got you waiting for me on the other side."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let the sadness take over. "I’ll always be here, baby. No matter how long it takes."

"Enough about me though," he tries to change the subject, hearing the vulnerability in your voice. He hates knowing you're missing him like that, especially when he can't do anything about it. "How’s my pretty girl?” he asks, his voice dropping to that lower, huskier tone that always makes your stomach flutter.

“I’m okay,” you reply, leaning back against the couch as you let yourself sink into his voice. “But I’d be better if you were here.”

A low chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Trust me, princess, I’d do anything to be there with you right now.” Toji looks around his surroundings, the dreary cement walls and identical cell doors that go on and on. He leans against the divider that separates all the phones, metal phone wire feeling cool against his arm. It's late at night, most of the prisoners already in their cells asleep. Toji was lucky enough to know someone on the inside, getting the privilege to have late night calls with you, getting as much privacy as he could get. A single guard supervises him haphazardly.

The thought of him—of his rough hands on your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to you—makes heat pool low in your belly. The distance between you feels unbearable, but his voice keeps you grounded, tethered to the connection you share.

“What are you wearing?” he asks suddenly, his tone playful but suggestive.

“Toji,” you laugh, your cheeks flushing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he replies, his voice darkening with desire. “I need a little something to keep me going while I’m stuck in here.”

You glance down at your oversized t-shirt, wearing nothing but that and some panties. biting your lip as a grin creeps onto your face. “Nothing special,” you tease. “Just your t-shirt, the one I stole from you.”

"Just my shirt? Nothing else?" He clears his throat with a grunt, looking around to make sure nobody else could hear. Although let's face it, he wouldn't care regardless.

"Mmm that and some panties of course. Like I always wear to bed," you respond, playing with the hem of your shirt mindlessly. The shirt itself wafted of Toji's musky scent, piney with a dash of smoke and a hint of jasmine.

"What panties?" Toji tries to imagine you, all pretty and barefaced, ready for bed in one of his shirts that swallow your frame. No bra, the outline of your nipples showing through the soft fabric. The bottom of your ass poking out from under his shirt.

"The frilly lacy baby pink pair you got me from Victoria's Secret," pulling up your shirt just enough to see the panties you wear, Toji being oh so familiar with the pair. "You know, the ones I wore when we went to that fancy Brazilian steak house, and you made me keep them on as you fucked me in the bathroom?"

He groans softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Damn, you know what that does to me, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice light but filled with heat. Toji started this little game, but you could play it better.

"Fuck I miss you princess," his voice is gravelly, needy as he bites his lip.

"I miss you too baby," your lip curls into a sweet smile, words sounding like sugar.

"No, like I really miss you," Toji looks down at the scratchy sweatpants he's forced to wear, seeing the bulge he now adorns getting bigger and bigger as he paints an image of your pretty self.

"Oh?"

"Wanna help me out ma?" The raspiness of his sultry voice has you weak in the knees and you could almost perfectly picture the wolfish grin he was wearing.

"Toji I don't know..." Feeling bashful, your teeth tug at your lip as you contemplate. Sure you've mailed him pretty pictures with way to much cleavage, some in revealing outfits and "bathing suits", but never have you ever had phone sex with him while he's been locked up.

"C'mon mama, I really need you right now. Miss you so much. Miss your gorgeous face. Miss your cute smile. That pretty pussy of yours." At this point he was rock hard, erection now prominent even in those baggy sweatpants.

"Aren't you in public right now, love?" Raising an eyebrow, you try to imagine Toji as he's in a corner of the public area, standing next to one of the phones that's stuck to the wall.

"Relax princess, it's already past curfew. I got special phone privileges courtesy of Shiu. Pays to know people inside," he clicks his tongue proudly, his smirk almost audible.

"Mmm okay, if you say so baby," sinking down more into the couch, obliging with a tint of pink on your cheeks.

"That's my girl." There's a slight pause, then a rustling sound as Toji leans closer to the phone. "Now, put the phone on speaker so I can hear every little thing, okay princess?"

"Okay, Toji." Turning on speakerphone, you set the phone on the arm of the couch right next to where your head rests. So, what do you want me to do first, baby?" you ask, your voice tinged with playfulness and a hint of arousal.

Toji's chuckle is low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, for starters... tell me exactly what you're wearing."

You bite your lip, glancing down at yourself before responding, "Like I said earlier, just your old shirt and that pair of baby pink lace panties. Nothing else."

His mind was so foggy with lust and need that he had forgot he asked you that, causing that hard predicament that sits in his pants. "Oh, right. That pretty pink pair that I like to slide to the side and fuck you in."

Your breathing hitches, the heat pooling in your core at his words. Toji’s voice, low and laden with want, is enough to make your body respond instantly. You shift slightly, your thighs squeezing together as the familiar ache begins to build.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” you tease, though your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“How could I forget?” he rasps, his tone sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “You looked so fucking good in them. Still do, I bet. Are they wet yet, princess?” Toji reels his memories, thinking of your legs spread open, showing that cute little damp patch of arousal that would soak through the frilly material.

Your cheeks flush crimson, his bluntness never failing to catch you off guard. “Maybe,” you admit shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs approvingly. “Touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna hear those sweet little sounds you make when you think of me.” A hand goes into his sweats, palming himself through his boxers. It didn't bother him in the slightest that anyone could see. His perfect girl was on the line, moaning and mewling just for him and he wanted—no needed—to get off to you.

“Toji,” you breathe out, the warmth spreading through your chest and settling low in your belly. You hesitate for just a moment before letting your hand slip beneath the hem of your shirt, your fingertips brushing against the lace of your panties. “I miss you,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

“Fuck, I miss you too,” he groans, the sound of his restraint evident in his tone. “Keep going, princess. Tell me what you’re doing.”

Your hand slips beneath the lace, your fingers dipping into the slick heat between your thighs. “I’m... I’m touching myself,” you confess, your voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

“Good girl,” Toji growls, his words like a low purr that rumbles through the receiver. “You know how much I love hearing you, baby. Don’t hold back. Let me hear those pretty little moans.”

Your free hand clutches at the couch cushion as your fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. The sound of Toji’s breathing, heavy and uneven, fills your ear and fuels the fire building inside you. Closing your eyes, you imagine it's him hovering over you, fingers teasing your clit just how he always does.

“Toji,” you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages, his voice thick with need. “Keep saying my name. Let me know how good it feels.”

You close your eyes, letting his voice guide you as your movements grow more insistent. “I wish you were here; my fingers can't do what yours do,” you whisper, your words shaky as the pleasure builds. “I need you so bad, Toji.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he groans, the sound of rustling fabric on his end letting you know he’s just as affected as you are. “I’d do anything to have you under me right now. To feel how tight you’d squeeze me when I’m deep inside you.” His hand finally snakes its way inside his boxers, his calloused finger soothing his aching red tip. Palm wrapped around the top, squeezing it in imitation of your tight walls.

"That's all I can think about, Toji," soft, needy whimpers leave your throat, "Having my legs on your shoulders as you break me off. Hitting that one spot deep inside me that always gets me creaming on your cock." Flashbacks of Toji's large hands holding you down, fucking into you as he forces you to watch, that frothy white ring around the base of his dick forming as juice splatter from his impact.

"Yeah, princess?" Toji groans, his voice dipping even lower, roughened by his own need. "You always know how to rile me up, don’t you? Keep talking, tell me exactly how you'd want me to fuck you."

You bite your lip, the weight of his words sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. "I’d want it slow at first," your fingers circle your clit agonizingly slow. Almost torturous like Toji does. "You’d tease me," you murmur, your voice catching as your fingers dip lower. "Make me beg for it, wouldn’t you? Make me tell you how much I need it, need you."

"Fuck," Toji growls, his breathing heavy in your ear. His hand strokes himself in sync with your words, his rough palm sliding over his length as he imagines you beneath him, squirming, needy, desperate. "I’d make you wait, baby. You know I love hearing you beg for me, hearing that pretty little voice say my name."

A shaky whimper escapes your lips, the sound almost too loud in the stillness of your living room. "I’d be so wet for you," you whisper, voice trembling as your fingers circle faster, dipping between your folds to gather more of your slickness. "You wouldn’t even have to ask, Toji. I’d be ready for you the second you touched me."

"Shit," he groans, gripping himself tighter as he pictures it. "You’d be dripping down your thighs, wouldn’t you? Making a fucking mess of yourself while you wait for me to fill you up."

"Yes," you gasp, your back arching against the couch as your body reacts to his words. Your free hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in his scent, his voice, the memory of his touch. "I need you so bad, Toji. I need to feel you stretching me out, filling me up until I can't take it anymore."

"Dip those pretty little fingers of yours inside your pussy, princess. Imagine it's me curling them and hitting that soft spot in ya," he grunts, trying to imagine the feeling of your tiny hole enveloping his large fingers.

You let out a soft moan, obeying his request, slipping two fingers into your warmth. The wet sound fills the quiet of the room, mixing with his heavy breathing on the line.

“I... I’m doing it, Toji,” you manage between hitched breaths. “It’s not the same... I can’t stretch myself like you do.”

“Fucking hell,” he growls, his hand pumping faster now, imagining the way your body clings to him when he’s buried inside you. “Tell me how it feels, princess. I need to hear everything.”

Your cheeks flush, the embarrassment drowned out by the heat curling in your belly. “It feels... good, but not enough. I can’t reach as deep as you, baby. I need you here. I need your fingers, your cock... all of you.”

“Shit, keep talking like that, and I’m gonna cum before you do,” he groans, his voice thick with frustration and longing. His strokes become erratic, the image of you—the sounds you're making—driving him closer to the edge. “I’d have you spread out under me right now, pretty legs shaking while I fuck you open. You’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh huh~,” you whimper, arching into your touch, fingers moving faster as you imagine him over you, his broad shoulders, the weight of his body pressing you down. “I’d take you so good... like I always do. I’d make such a mess for you.”

“You’d be dripping all over my cock, wouldn’t you? So tight, so perfect for me,” he rasps, his voice hitching slightly as his own hand works faster. You can hear the faint rustle of fabric, the wet sound of his strokes, and it sends a thrill through you, knowing he’s as close to the edge as you are.

“Toji, I’m so close,” you whine, your voice trembling with the mounting pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans, his tone commanding but filled with adoration. “Let it go, princess. Cum for me. I wanna hear those pretty sounds when you fall apart for me.”

His words push you over the edge, a broken cry escaping your lips as your body tenses and then releases, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Toji’s name spills from your mouth in a litany, each moan sweeter than the last.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice a low growl as he follows you over the edge, his own release ripping through him. You can hear his breaths, heavy and uneven, as he murmurs your name like a prayer.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the line and your shared breaths as you come down from the high.

“I needed that,” Toji finally mutters, his voice lighter now, the teasing edge creeping back in. "Been so pent up, jerking off to those pretty pictures you mail me like I'm a horny teenager."

You laugh softly, trying to imagine a sexually frustrated Toji hunched over your selfies trying to get himself off. “You’re insatiable, Toji.”

“For you? Always,” he replies, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten with affection. "I miss being able to bend you over and fuck you wherever and whenever I want."

"Mmmm, I miss that too, baby," you hum, walking to the sink to wash your arousal-stained fingers. "Miss having my man with me all the time. Gets so lonely without my lover."

"I fucking love you, you know that?" Toji murmurs after a beat, his voice softer now, filled with an almost boyish sincerity.

A smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at his words. "I love you too, Toji," you reply, your voice tender.

The automated voice interrupts the moment, announcing that the call will end in one minute. Your chest tightens at the reminder, and you clutch the phone, wishing you could hold onto him just a little longer.

“You better be ready for me when I get out,” he says, his tone turning serious, almost possessive. “I’m not wasting a single second. First thing I’m doing is coming straight to you, and you’re not leaving my bed for days.”

"I'll be counting down the days, baby," a honeyed mewl leaves your lips, feeling light and airy still from your orgasm. "Until then... Behave yourself Toji Fushiguro."

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice. "No promises, princess," he teases. "But I’ll try. For you. Now before it hangs up, kiss me through the phone, baby."

Your heart squeezes at his request, the playful yet sincere edge in his voice making your chest ache with longing. Pressing the phone closer to your lips, you whisper, "Mwah," letting it carry all the tenderness you can muster.

A low hum of approval comes through the line. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear," he drawls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I’ll be dreaming about that one, princess."

The automated voice chimes in again, colder this time, signaling the end of the call in mere seconds. "I love you," you blurt out, the words rushing out like a lifeline.

"I love you more," he says firmly, the weight of his promise grounding you. "Be good for me, princess. I’ll be home before you know it."

The line clicks dead before you can respond, the abrupt silence leaving an ache in its wake. You lower the phone slowly, staring at the screen as if willing it to light up again with his name. His words replay in your head. You could hold it down for him, he'll be home before you know it.

#toji fushiguro smut #criminal!toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #animamii masterlist #animamii #lockedup!toji #jailbird!toji #prison!toji

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rockybloo · 1 day ago

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I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

#rocky rambles #important rocky post

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friend-shaped-but · 2 days ago

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RATING EVERYTHING I'VE READ ABOUT THE MAHABHARAT(INCLUDES DNF)

The Navneet Mahabharat for Kids: 11/10, it did things to my brain and got me into the mahabharat in the first place. Have you SEEN the shikhandi in it?

13th day: 6.5/10 for the angst, 4 points taken off for the unnecessary yudhishthir POV and I think the author exaggerated on the abhimanyu POV a little bit sooooo. But ig it was necessary to provide exposition. There is this one conversation between bheeshma and karna which is just. really uh. thought provoking and interesting. Cis shikhandi warrants another point taken off, but she is actually so awesome that im gonna give half a point back. Also one more thing about 13th day I love is how ABHIMANYU IS SHOWN TO HAVE THE 'i gotta kill my family' CONFLICT IN IT BECAUSE HE HAS TRAINED WITH PEOPLE IN THE NARAYANI SENA. It's very blink-it and you miss it but it's Interesting. Krishna is a footnote(which, true, krishna and arjun being away from the battlefield and not being able to save abhimanyu is the whole point of that story and I found it really funny how yudhishthir was like. "Arjun's charioteer Krishna")

The Broken Sun: 8/10 the next book in that series, broken sun is the sequel to 13th day and covers arjun's vow to drona's death. I really loved bheem, ghatotkach, and the arjun POV and this book's insistence on solely referring to Karna as radheya. One point taken off for Slight Misogyny(ON THE AUTHORS PART. IM NOT TAKING POINTS OFF FOR PERIOD TYPICAL STUFF), and another point taken off for That Poop Scene.

Yuganta: 8.5/10, you clocked the Krishnarjun very accurately, mam, but I did not really like constant uh. comparisons? yeah. And the period typical touch of victim blaming. But you did shut down some other researchers that blame draupadi for things so. yeah points for that too ig. It is an awesome and well-researched book tho pls pls go read it.

The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 1: Govinda: 7/10. Points taken off for some of the weird sing-songy shit, the WMDs, and cis shikhandi. But shikhandi is very cool so like. 2 of the 7 points are because of that. And the firstborn-firewright thing which was so confusing it made me stop reading. DNF but I might go back for the awesome characterizations of everyone. Author matches my freak wrt not liking arjun that much.

Mrityunjay: 9/10, one point taken off because the prologue says this book is gonna be in "simplelanguage that everyone understands" but then shivaji sawant writes like everyone has swallowed a thesaurus. DNF because the marathi font was sans serif. If I manage to get it in a devnagri font easier on my eyes I will read it. It's just an well written book from a guy who was very excited about his blorbo and I respect that!!

Draupadi: 9/10, one point taken off for a take about satyavati I disagree with, but the rest of the book is so juicy and delicious. Aruna Dhere is COOKING and I want to meet her please and thank you.

Madhyamavyayoga: 10/10, actually. Bhasa, sir, I would like to invite you to tumblr for your hot takes and how clear it is that abhimanyu is your blorbo.

Pancharatra: 10/10. Well-written what-if by a guy who is excited about his blorbos. I respect that. btw his blorbos are bheem, abhimanyu, and karna.

Karnabharam: 8/10 because I had to study this in 9th grade(and that too in the midst of covid and my mental health going to shit) and it ruined it for me a little bit but hey I love it. Props for naming your work "Karna's issues". Sometime I might post the

On my list, haven't read these yet but I plan to:

Radheya, Ranjit Desai

Rashmirathi, Ramdhari Sinha Dinkar

Vyasaparva, Durga Bhagwat

Pandava Quintet, Roshni Chokshi

Yugandhar, Shivaji Sawant

Mysticism in the bhagwat gita

Mahabharat by NC Panda

At least a children's book edition of the mahabharat in marathi. Need to interact with the mahabharat in marathi more

Karna the sanskrit hero of the epic mahabharata: Kevin Mcgrath

Urubhanga

And any other interesting books I come across.

#mahabharata #mahabharat #book review #books and reading #feel free to ask me more about any of these

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blueishspace · 3 days ago

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Hero, Villain God 55

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

You sigh in relief, that was close... too close, you almost had to think about some of the stuff you really don't want to aknowledge.... Hopefully Joel doesn't get funny ideas from that.

Sure, you might have gotten a slight bit attached to one mortal...or two...but it's just more fun this way! Yes! Nothing more to it. Nothing at all... And well you don't need to justify yourself to him anyway! Who is he to question you? ... Outside of like being the literal sky.

You are digging your metaphorical hole deeper at this point.

...

ANYWAY, It's time to go back to your vessel now, It's been a long enough time that it shouldn't be too weird for you to wake up... Well it might still be but at this point you are too bored to care.

You just give it a bit of a push and you open your eyes.

Ugh, It's way too bright in here and now that you are back inside the body the pain has somewhat returned, going to have to fix that at one point tll. You never understood why humans were made to be so fleshy and weak and sickly in the first place...

You push yourself up on the medical bef, the muscle mass in the arms is mostly intact with minimal athropy luckily, the legs are pretty much the same so not an horrible state by mortal standards at least... The door to the room opens, It's a nurse... She seems shocked to see you awake, she quickly dashes to your bedside to check on some monitors near you...then after a few minutes of questions that you really didn't care about she nods and leaves to make a call...

Soon after Cub burst trough the door, covered from head to toe in water.

"Grian? I was told you were up."

"That I am ..."

You should probably be asking questions right, they think you have been unconcious for the last week or so.

"... What happened? The uh nurse that found me when I woke up didn't explain much."

There! Perfect! Now he thinks you are clueless and your divinity is once more kept secret, good job you!

"You ...got shot protecting Hotguy from a sniper"

"And how long was I...?"

"Oh just... A bit more less then two weeks"

"Hmm."

...

The silence that follows is akward, you just want to get this over with so you can leave and the two of you barely know eachother... You really want to ask about what the associations current plans are for you but you can't just ask that, you already made Cub suspicious with the blood samples way before everything went down...

...Ok maybe you can phrase it in a non-suspicious way, It's a better option then laying on the bed for who knows how long.

"So... What now?"

"Uh?"

"Can I like ...leave now?" That should sound earnest enough hopefully.

"What?"

Cub is not the expressive type, you have gathered that from the little you have seen of him. This is not an exception, he just tilts his head before giggling a bit, you really can't tell if It's genuine or not.

"Grian, you just woke up from a coma you- you can't just...you can't just get up and leave."

"Oh..."

Well then, you messed it up, he's -

"Where would you even get that idea? Is that something you have done before? Wake up from a possibly life ending injury and just leave?"

There is a right answer is. . . You don't know what that is, you have no clue what he wants you to say. So you do a bit of gambling.

"Yes yes, many times, all the time"

His smile falters a bit, this somehow feels more like genuine confusion or thought...he just looks at you, did you say the wrong thing? You should have just done the mind reading trick... No, you gave yourself a challenge, if you just used all your powers this wouldn't be any fun anymore.

...

He doesn't even say anything else he just keeps looking, you tilt your head a bit and it seems to bring him back.

"Right... Well, I'll be speaking with the medical staff then."

"Sure."

He slowly gets up and after a few seconds goes to open the door and leave... He stops just as he reaches for the door.

"And Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Scar is worried, should -"

"Tell him to come by."

"Alright"

And like that he's gone.

*End of Chapter 10*

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #cubfan135 #hero villain god au

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booksandabeer · 1 day ago

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Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

#stucky #peter parker #stucky fic rec #steve rogers #bucky barnes #fic recs

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moonselune · 9 hours ago

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Heyo! I was the one to send the ask about a Tav hiding their past from their companions and the romanced one realizing the other day. I forgot to add which romanced companions for the request 😅

Astarion, Karlach, or Shadowheart if that’s ok

No worries! I couldn't actually find the original ask as my inbox likes to snack on them so it worked out perfectly!

Karlach:

The two of you were sprawled out on a grassy hill, the stars blazing above like a million tiny promises of hope. Karlach, ever radiant, had her arms behind her head, her warm laughter still lingering in the cool night air after she'd recounted some ridiculous tale of a fight she'd gotten into years ago. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her—there was something about Karlach that was utterly disarming.

“Y’know,” she said, rolling onto her side to look at you, her face half-illuminated by starlight, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“That’s always dangerous,” you teased, earning a playful swat on the arm.

“I’m serious,” she said, her tone soft but thoughtful now. “I realized... I don’t actually know much about you. Like, really know you.”

You tensed slightly, your smile fading, and she noticed immediately. Karlach wasn’t the type to miss when someone’s defenses went up—she was too attuned to cracks in the armor not to see it.

“I know you're amazing, and you're kind, and you’ve been through some stuff, but...you’ve always been pretty vague about your past. Why is that?”

“It’s not important,” you said quickly, brushing it off as if it were nothing. You turned your gaze back to the stars, hoping she’d let it go.

But Karlach wasn’t one to let things go easily.

“Not important? You’re important. What made you who you are is important,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent. “Come on, you know everything about me. You know about Zariel, the Hells, all of it. But you...you’ve got this wall around parts of yourself, and I don’t like not being able to reach you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Karlach, it’s...it’s not something I like to talk about, okay? Some things are better left buried.”

“But buried things tend to rot, love,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on your arm. “Please. Talk to me.”

You hesitated, staring at her hand on your arm. The warmth of her touch was grounding, comforting, and yet it made the ache in your chest all the more acute. When you finally looked at her, you saw nothing but patience and love in her eyes. And it broke you.

“Fine,” you muttered, sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. She sat up too, waiting quietly, not rushing you.

“I grew up in a family that looked perfect from the outside,” you began, your voice low. “We had money, status—everything people think makes a family happy. But behind closed doors? It was a nightmare.”

Karlach said nothing, letting you continue at your own pace.

“My parents...they hated each other. And they weren’t exactly quiet about it. Every day was a war zone. Screaming matches, accusations, the kind of anger that seeps into everything. My siblings and I were caught in the crossfire, always trying to stay out of the way, always trying not to make things worse. But no matter what we did, it was never enough. Someone always got hurt, one way or another.”

You paused, your throat tightening as old memories clawed their way to the surface. Karlach reached out and took your hand, her grip firm but reassuring.

“And then,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly, “one day, it all fell apart. My older brother tried to leave—tried to get out of the hellhole we called home. My father...he didn’t take it well. There was a fight. Things got...violent. And my brother never made it out. After that, everything just...collapsed. I left too, eventually, but by then I’d lost everything that mattered. My family. My sense of who I was. All of it.”

You finally looked at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s why I don’t talk about it, Karlach. Because what’s the point? It’s just a mess I crawled out of, and I don’t want it to define me.”

For a moment, Karlach was silent, her expression a mix of astonishment and heartbreak. Then she shook her head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her lips.

“Damn,” she said softly. “You’re...incredible, you know that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“How are you so well-adjusted after all that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe. “Seriously. If it were me, I’d be a total wreck. But you...you’re strong. You’re kind. You’ve got this huge heart that somehow survived all that pain. It’s...it’s amazing.”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled over, and before you could even think to hide them, Karlach was pulling you into her arms. Her infernal warmth enveloped you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into someone else completely.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just...I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured, her hand stroking your back soothingly. “I get it. I do. But I’m here now, okay? You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore.”

You clung to her like a lifeline, her warmth chasing away the chill of old wounds. And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as broken as you thought.

“I love you, you know,” Karlach said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes still glistening with tears. “I love you too,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of everything you’d just shared.

And as her lips met yours in a gentle, grounding kiss, you realized that maybe you didn’t have to bury your past anymore. Not with Karlach. Not ever again.

Shadowheart:

The two of you sat side by side on a quiet patch of forest floor, the campfire flickering in the distance as the night crept in around you. Shadowheart had been unusually quiet, her sharp eyes scanning the stars above before settling on your profile.

"You know," she started, her voice soft but probing, "for all the time we've spent together, I realize I don’t actually know much about you."

You blinked, glancing at her, caught off guard by the sudden turn in conversation. “What do you mean? You know plenty about me,” you said lightly, trying to deflect.

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “Do I? I know who you are now, sure. But your past? Where you come from? What made you...you? You’ve kept it all locked up tight.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s not important,” you muttered.

Shadowheart leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied you. “Not important to who? Because it feels pretty important to me.”

Her persistence made you squirm, and you quickly stood, brushing off your clothes as if that would somehow shake the conversation away. “Shadowheart, I don’t—can we not do this right now?”

You started to walk away, but her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Alright. But I’ll find out eventually. You know I’m not one to let things go.” You glanced back at her, giving her a pointed look, but she just smiled sweetly, her tone deceptively innocent. “You’ll tell me, willingly or not.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. Still, you didn’t realize how serious she was about her little promise—until the next evening.

Shadowheart wasn’t just clever; she was sneaky. The next day, she found ways to chip away at your defenses. She asked questions that seemed harmless at first—what foods you liked, what your childhood home looked like, what kind of trouble you got into as a kid. Bit by bit, she pieced together fragments of your past until you realized too late that she’d woven a net around you.

It wasn’t until you were sitting by the riverbank after another grueling day of travel that she struck her final blow.

“So,” she said casually, dipping her fingers into the cool water, “was your family always so chaotic, or did the drama start later on?”

You froze, your stomach twisting as you realized she’d cornered you.

“What are you talking about?” you said, feigning ignorance.

Shadowheart smirked, tilting her head. “Oh, come on. I’ve been paying attention. The little things you’ve let slip, the way you dodge questions—it’s obvious there’s more to your story than you’re letting on. So, spill. What happened?”

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

She just smiled, her expression softening. “Only when it comes to things that matter. And you, my love, matter.”

Her words cracked something open inside you, and before you could stop yourself, the dam burst.

It all came tumbling out. The family drama that felt like a never-ending storm—arguments, betrayals, and secrets that tore your home apart. The tragedies that left scars too deep to heal. Scandals that painted your family in a light so harsh, you’d spent years trying to escape it.

But it wasn’t all darkness. You found yourself sharing the funny stories too—the times you and your siblings played pranks on each other, the little moments of joy that somehow shone through the chaos. You talked about the people you’d loved and lost, the lessons you’d learned, and the weight you still carried from it all.

By the time you were done, your throat was raw, and your chest felt hollow, like you’d just carved out a piece of yourself and handed it to her.

Shadowheart had been silent the whole time, her expression unreadable as she listened intently. When you finally looked at her, self-consciousness crept in like a cold shadow.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, averting your gaze. “That was...a lot. I probably should’ve kept some of it to myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said softly, her voice filled with a kind of reverence that made you look up in surprise.

Her eyes were shining, and there was an almost tangible warmth in her expression. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been through all of that,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon as if the weight of your past was hanging in the air between you. “And here you are—still standing, still fighting, still...you. It’s astonishing.”

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. “I’m not incredible, Shadowheart. I’m just...getting by.”

“No,” she said firmly, leaning closer and taking your hand in hers. “You’re so much more than that. You’ve been through things that would break most people, and somehow, you’re still...kind. Still hopeful. Still...loving. I’m in awe of you, truly.”

Her words broke something else inside you—not in a painful way, but in a way that felt like healing. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

Shadowheart cupped your face gently, brushing the tears away with her thumbs.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice steady and certain. “All of you. Your past, your present, your future. Every part of you.”

A shaky laugh escaped you as you leaned into her touch.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled you into a tender embrace, holding you as if she could shield you from the weight of your past. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Astarion:

It was a quiet moment in camp, the kind of peace that always felt precarious, balanced on the knife's edge of your group's chaotic lives. Astarion was lounging next to you, his chin propped in his hand as he studied you with a curious intensity.

“You know,” he began casually, his voice dripping with charm and mischief, “for someone I’m hopelessly enamored with, you are a remarkably well-guarded mystery.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, already suspicious. “Am I?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” he purred, sitting up straighter. “You’re practically a ghost when it comes to your past. You’ve danced around every question I’ve ever asked, dodging and deflecting like a master illusionist. Honestly, it’s impressive. I think I might even be proud of you.”

You smirked. “Well, thank you, but some things are better left in the past.”

Astarion let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Ah, but darling, I hate being left in the dark. You can’t expect me to simply accept this vagueness when I’m dying to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I don’t expect you to do anything. But I’m not telling you, Astarion.”

That should have been the end of it, but of course, it wasn’t. Over the next few days, Astarion’s curiosity morphed into relentless determination. He needled you at every opportunity, his charm turning into playful persistence. Every time you dodged his questions, he only seemed more delighted, like unraveling your secrets had become a personal challenge.

“You know,” he said one evening, leaning close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear, “this is getting downright insulting. Do you think I can’t handle a little drama? Please, I thrive on it.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

“And yet,” he countered, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary, “you still haven’t answered me. Come now, my sweet enigma—indulge me.”

Eventually, you snapped—not in anger, but in exasperation. Sitting by the fire that night, you threw up your hands. “Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Astarion’s eyes lit up like a child on their name day, and he settled in with a gleeful smirk, clearly expecting a story worth his persistence.

Blasé, almost flippant, you began to unravel the sordid tale of your past.

You told him about the family dinners that ended in shouting matches—or worse, murders over disputes that ran deeper than blood. You recounted the endless scandals: the illegitimate children, the betrayals that made even the most dramatic bardic tales look tame, the backstabbing that left no one unscathed. The drama unfolded like a grotesque tapestry, each thread more tangled and wild than the last.

Through it all, you remained indifferent, recounting events as if they had happened to someone else entirely. “And then there was the time my cousin poisoned the wine at a wedding. That was a mess. Oh, and the twins—turns out one of them wasn’t even my uncle’s child. But really, what did he expect when he married his mistress?”

Astarion sat in stunned silence, his lips slightly parted as you continued to nonchalantly recount the chaos of your upbringing.

“And, of course, there were the power struggles,” you added with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Everyone vying for control, alliances shifting faster than the wind. It’s all so...exhausting, really.”

When you finally finished, the fire crackled in the silence that followed. You looked at Astarion, expecting...something. Disbelief? Judgment?

Instead, he burst into delighted laughter.

“Oh, my dear, dear love,” he said, clutching his chest as if he might collapse from mirth. “You’re right—it does sound like a poorly written bardic tale. But gods, what a deliciously awful one!”

You rolled your eyes. “I told you it wasn’t worth hearing.”

“Are you joking?” he asked, still laughing. “It’s magnificent! The drama! The intrigue! And you—you just walked away from all of that and turned into...well, you. It’s incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re impressed by all of that?”

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning closer, his expression softening into something genuine. “You survived a storm of madness and somehow emerged as the person I’ve fallen utterly in love with. How could I not be impressed?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at his sincerity, but before you could respond, his grin turned wicked.

“Although,” he added, “you simply must take me to your next family dinner. I need to witness this circus for myself.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not a chance. They’d eat you alive.”

“Darling,” Astarion purred, his voice dripping with confidence, “I’ve been surrounded by vampires for two centuries. I think I can handle a few backstabbing relatives.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Astarion leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, his hand brushing yours in a silent promise.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “For trusting me with this. It means more than you know.”

awh this was wholesome, as someone who comes from a chaotic ass family this was cathartic to write aha. Hope you guys enjoyed it -Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #karlach imagines #bg3 imagines #bg3 karlach #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart imagines #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion

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quibbs126 · 22 hours ago

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So I was attempting to practice the Cyberverse style Optimus and Megatron, though as you can see, I got a bit distracted at the bottom left, and sort of just had to put something else to fill up space

I actually started practicing yesterday at work, drawing on my cardboard sheets, so it meant I was a bit more practiced when I started here. Though annoyingly, since I elected to not go over my pencil sketches with pen, I could barely make out details in the drawings, and I could barely tell what I was doing on Megatron

It was also going to be more than just their heads, but not only was Optimus’ body taking up most of the canvas already, I wasn’t really sure how to draw it at the time. The stuff at the bottom right may have been for filling up space, but I also did need to try and at least practice their bodies

*sigh* the real struggle is making them 3D things. It’d be so much easier to figure out the shapes if I didn’t have to. But oh well, comes with the territory I suppose

But back to it, I think I did alright with the head sketches? They aren’t bad, but they feel slightly off, like I haven’t quite got them looking right

I probably need more practice, and to actually draw them full body. Also probably wouldn’t hurt to look at more Cyberverse fanart for more exposure to the style

I probably also need to start actually drawing characters more consistently, instead of drawing sketches of characters once and then never doing it again. It means I never fully get the hang of it and I keep not really making much of substance

But yeah, I feel like drawing them again at a later date, possibly even with lineless. I just don’t know what to draw them doing

But anyways, on to the bottom left

So I had finished the sketches, and my brain was like “well since we’re here, and we have helm designs right there, we could try making up fankid designs?” and eventually I gave in and decided to start sketching. I knew it’d end up on the final product anyways, but I had to give in to my impulses

Sorry, I’m sure people are sick of me bringing up this sort of stuff

Then with my first attempt, I ended up with something I actually quite liked. So I was like, might as well fully line and color

I still like the original sketch, so I’m gonna put it here, and also since I feel like the vibes are slightly different from the final

But then a problem arose after lining and going to colors. Namely that I had designed this on a whim and I had no deep thought as to what colors to use

After some tries I ended up with what you see here, but I’m not sure if I want to keep these colors. I’m not sure it fits the vibe the original sketch had

The blue middle piece I’m especially not sure on. I think it looks off, but I don’t know what to color it

Oh also, his purple isn’t exclusive to his helm, it’s his main color for the rest of his body too. At least that’s how it is in my head right now

Also as you may notice between the sketch and final, the eye shadow came later, mostly because I thought he didn’t have enough Megatron in his face. But also because of that, I hadn’t made the eyes and eyebrows with that in mind. So if I draw him again, those’ll get tweaked

I still in general don’t know if he looks enough like Megatron. I suppose I should be wondering more if he should look more like Optimus, since general shape wise he takes far more from Megs, but I’m also aware plenty of his colors stray more towards Optimus anyways

Oh yeah also, he has blue eyes here, but I really don’t know about that. I wanted to give him something other than blue or red, purple being my initial choice, but I was struggling with the colors in general and so right now he has blue. It works but I wonder if it looks too much like a fusion of their eyes

He needs more work, just like Overdrive I think. But he is here

No clue his name. I wasn’t even sure about his gender until drawing made me think “oh yeah that’s a guy”. I do have a name in my brain for a megop kid, that being Starcutter (which the two probably didn’t pick), but I don’t know if that works for him

I do think I’m going with that idea I posed yesterday (well not yesterday, but yesterday I said “what if I put it in Cyberverse?”) of him being the secret megop love child that no one but Megs knows about

I don’t know anything about him other than he’s probably on the Autobot half of Cybertron but was never really involved in the war much. To involve him in any plot, he probably comes over to Iacon after the war to try and make some name for himself

Also another idea is that he and Megatron met again during his multiverse adventures, in some universe where he was actually raised by Megatron, possibly where the Autobots and Decepticons never split because Optimus was able to properly reason with Megatron. They didn’t take him on their multiverse adventures, probably because Megatron knows he exists in his own universe and doesn’t know how to handle two versions, but also possibly because he died, I don’t know. But it was these encounters that led to Megatron attempting to search him out when he returned to his own universe. This also means Dead End and maybe Astrotrain knows about the kid’s existence, but they’re under the assumption they only exist in these wildly different universes, not their own. Which may lead to shenanigans

But yeah I haven’t solidified anything else really I don’t think. Should work on a name

And I think that’s about it for now? Yeah I should draw more Cyberverse I guess

#I don’t know what to put in the tags here #uhh #transformers #transformers cyberverse #optimus prime #megatron #my art #transformers oc #transformers sparklings #fankid #art practice

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hihigherdi · 1 day ago

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When I was at the Al Brooks talk, I kept thinking about how much I loved writing when I was younger, when I first got here to San Francisco. I have so many stories from the different retail places I’ve worked – Nordstrom, Microsoft, where I am now - where I climbed and then fell off the corporate ladders year after year while going to therapy to deal with all of the personal stuff that the jobs surfaced

I might drop a few entries here of that old writing stuff as I think about what could be new.

Love is the Elixir

He came well recommended though he lived in the country. My friends and I share a prejudice regarding rural America, we’re too cynical to appreciate its undiscovered charms. Sure, we like the ponies and the idea of antiquing but when you haul that stuff back to the house? All you really have is an old busted up bench that’s really uncomfortable. Where I’m from, everybody knows that the best part of small towns is the hope that you’ll come across a rogue A&W so you can drink the perfect root beer float. As with most small towns, the road turned into more roads and suddenly, I was there.

You’d think a therapist’s office in the country would at least have some kind of white picket fence. Maybe one of those Desidrata welcome mats or a winsome little sign on a wooden door that said “We’re just two chickens clucking around”.

I’m nervous even writing this.

But instead I was greeted by a pasture filled with Longhorn cattle, the kind that seems to only live in Texas or a Chuck Norris film. You know – America. But seriously, Longhorn cattle? In my therapeutic experience? That was unexpected. I parked my little city slicker car so terribly out of place, wandered up to the fence and eye-balled a big male. It was a “he” based on the size of its…hooves. It lumbered over and eye-balled me right back.

Hello cow.

I knew he probably deserved a more majestic greeting but my whispered hi there was further indictment of why I was there in the first place (I had no opening lines with males of any kind).

I tentatively opened up the little country door to the little country house. A deafening wave of classical music coming from upstairs hit me square in the face from a room somewhere upstairs. It was the music that someone who had to sit on the other side of other peoples’ crazy needs to absorb between appointments. I felt guilty that we put him through it.

I waited in the obligatory little room where people like me wait. Leather-bound books and a cozy chair that felt like it had been born there. And a poster that simply read “Love is the Elixir of the Universe.” While I sunk into the chair and silently panicked, a little Corgi waddled her way inside. I stroked her back, admired her little belly and told her so. Feeling my heart slow just a little. Would I still have need of a therapist had I invested in a dog two years ago? What about a cat? A bird would have sent me there years earlier, I knew that much.

The music stopped. A disembodied voice cut through the silence and called for me without using my name. One part Indian, one part British all the rest of it weary. I’d been rejected by enough men to know he didn’t want me there which was fine, fuck you Mr.Tired Voice, I didn’t exactly want to be there either.

He was an old man. Surprisingly little. Glasses. Bare feet. God. Bare feet, come on.

He sat in his chair. I sat in the couch. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say hello. Just started writing on a note pad. We sat there for a good minute or two in total silence. If someone could have harnessed my nervous energy a few more polar bears would be alive today. Did you read the Wall Street Journal article suggesting that nervous energy is extremely productive? It can create things like biodegradable fuel that people outside of Berkeley actually care about and save animals that are extinct. Maybe you’re reading this, you’re smart enough to make that happen and you just haven’t because you’re nervous but you’re lazy. Do you feel badly now that you know you could have done something for the bears? If not you should, you really should.

Why are you here.

I’m here to let go of a relationship I never really had that may have wrecked me.

So you’re crazy then.

(Go to hell you elitist, classical music-listening, cotton shirt-wearing, creepy barefoot longhorn cattle-owning clearly height compensating narcissist.)

Well it feels that way sometimes. But I don’t want to be.

What happens if you really are wrecked.

At least I’ll know. That has to be good. It’s the not knowing that’s hard.

But don’t you already know?

(Jesus asked, Do you really want to get well?)

I suppose I do. I guess I want to be something more than wrecked from someone who should have never wrecked me in the first place.

Will you tell the truth?

Yes. (too quick)

…I don’t think I know how.

So you’re a liar.

(He SEES. Get out. Make him like you. But he won’t. He sees you.)

I don’t have much to lose so I guess I will. It’s weird how long it took to get here, how tightly one can cling to something that doesn’t even exist, that’s all in my head but false hope seems to be postponed grief. So yes, I’ll be honest. Maybe it’s easy to be honest when one is at the bottom of things.

Is that it?

Is what it?

Silence.

What are you afraid of most?

That I’ll charm you and you won’t be able to see me and I will leave with the relief of knowing that I’ve fooled you like I’ve fooled everybody else. And the despair of knowing that I did.

You know all that is up to you.

That’s what scares me the most.

It should.

I may not be ready for this. I may not be capable.

No one ever is. Isn’t that beautiful.

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kangshxrtie · 1 day ago

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Eleven | For the plan

"You say I'm crazy 'cause you don't think I know what you've done" - I’m Not the Only One, Sam Smith

"those two are definitely going to end up dating if they aren't already," sakura said, gesturing toward you and nien, who were laughing and walking together.

"i heard rumors that they're really close now," eunchae added, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret.

yunjin hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation until kazuha spoke up. "y/n and nien do make a good couple, now that i think about it."

that snapped yunjin out of her thoughts. she looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing at the sight of you and nien together. her jaw clenched as she felt irritation bubbling under her skin.

"i don't really see it. they don't match," yunjin said firmly, her voice edged with a tension the others quickly picked up on. she tried to keep herself from marching over and pulling the two of you apart.

"why not? they're in the same friend group, have similar interests, same major, same classes, and they've been really close lately. honestly, they probably are already dating," chaewon added, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at yunjin, noticing her increasingly defensive tone.

"well, first of all, y/n is... she's really quiet, and nien's always loud. that just doesn't match," yunjin argued, her words sharper than she intended.

"you're loud too," chaewon pointed out matter-of-factly.

"what's that supposed to mean?" yunjin snapped, shooting chaewon a glare.

chaewon held her gaze, looking like she had more to say but decided against it. instead, she shrugged. "nothing. i just think they're compatible."

"well, they aren't," yunjin bit out, her tone leaving no room for argument.

the rest of the group exchanged confused glances, silently questioning where yunjin's sudden hostility was coming from. as an awkward silence settled over them, yunjin's focus returned to you and nien. you were still walking together, laughing about something that made her blood boil.

without another word, yunjin hastily packed up her belongings, mumbling a rushed goodbye before storming off toward where you and nien were.

"hey, y/n, i have some questions about our humanities class," yunjin blurted out as she slid between you and nien, deliberately shoving nien aside. nien stumbled slightly but quickly regained her balance, turning to face both of you with a raised eyebrow.

you rolled your eyes at yunjin's antics. "what question?"

"i just need clarification on one of the concepts," yunjin said, her voice awkward now that she had actually gotten between you two without a plan.

"maybe if you paid more attention in class, you wouldn't need it," nien muttered under her breath.

"what'd you say?" yunjin snapped, her voice rising slightly.

nien shrugged, feigning innocence. "nothing."

"you can text me about it later," you told yunjin, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"the thing is, i'm free right now, so it'd be better if we could be power rangers right now," yunjin said, using the code you both had agreed on for needing time alone.

nien looked confused at the odd phrasing but turned to you, her expression questioning whether she should leave or stay.

"umm, nien, i'll meet up with you later," you sighed, knowing full well yunjin wouldn't back down until she got what she wanted.

nien looked a little disappointed but nodded in understanding. after all, the plan was to keep everything looking normal while you gathered evidence.

"text me when you're free," nien said with a small smile before turning and walking away.

yunjin waited until nien was out of earshot before speaking again. "you've been hanging out with her a lot lately."

"we're literally in the same friend group," you replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"yeah, but i've never seen you two really hang out before."

"nien has just been a really big help to me lately," you explained casually.

"with what?" yunjin asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

"i have some stuff going on with me lately. i don't know if you've noticed or not," you said, pointedly.

"why didn't you come to me if you were struggling?" yunjin asked, her voice softening slightly. because you're the reason i'm struggling, you thought to yourself but instead said, "i just... i didn't want to confide in somebody i'm close with."

yunjin frowned at your answer but eventually shook her head. "i mean, i guess i get that. but please come to me next time. i'm your girlfriend; i want to help you through your problems." what if you're the cause of my problems?

"sure, i'll do that," you replied, forcing a small smile. you couldn't say anything now and ruin the plan. to yunjin, the two of you were still in a happy, secret relationship, and she had no idea you knew about her infidelity.

"let's just go back to my place," yunjin finally muttered, her voice softer but still tense. you nodded, not wanting to push her further in public. you two walked back in silence to hers, neither of you even knew what to say.

when you arrived at her apartment, yunjin dropped her bag near the door and went straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. you followed her at a slower pace, trying to read the mood before you spoke again. she avoided your gaze, her expression unreadable.

"yunjin," you said, breaking the silence. "about earlier—"

"save it," she interrupted, turning to face you. "i just... i hate feeling like you're slipping away from me. it’s like no matter what i do, you keep finding reasons to spend more time with nien."

you hesitated, unsure how to respond without revealing your true feelings. "you’re overthinking it," you said instead, forcing your voice to sound calm. "she’s just helping me with some stuff. you know i care about you."

"do you?" yunjin’s voice wavered, her vulnerability showing for a brief moment before she quickly masked it with her usual confident demeanor. "because it feels like i’m the only one trying here."

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "that’s not true. i’ve been trying too, but i guess we’re just... off lately." it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

yunjin took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, her fingers gripping the edge tightly. "i just think nien likes you and i don’t want to be controlling or anything, but i don’t like when you hang out with her," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper towards the end. hypocritical ass bitch.

you felt a pang of guilt at her words, but you quickly buried it. you couldn’t afford to waver now. the plan was too important. "she doesn’t and even if she does i don’t like her," you said, stepping closer to her. "i promise." that might be a lie but you weren’t telling yunjin that.

her eyes searched yours for any sign of deception, and for a moment, you thought she might see through you. but then she nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "okay."

"come here," you said softly, pulling her into a hug. she stiffened at first, her pride keeping her guarded, but eventually, she melted into your embrace. her arms wrapped around your waist, holding on tightly as if she was afraid to let go.

the two of you stood like that for a while, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. you could feel her breathing slow, her body relaxing against yours. but your mind was anything but calm. every second spent in her arms was a reminder of why you were doing this, to gather enough evidence to confront her and end things on your terms.

"i’m sorry," you murmured, your voice barely audible. it wasn’t an apology for what she thought it was. you didn’t regret spending time with nien or the steps you’d taken in your plan. but you knew you had to play the part.

yunjin pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "you don’t have to keep apologizing," she said, her tone softening. "just... let’s try to fix this, okay?"

"okay," you replied, forcing a small smile. the weight of your unspoken thoughts threatened to crush you, but you pushed it aside. you couldn’t let her see through you, not yet.

"let’s sit down," yunjin said, pulling you toward the bed. you followed her, sitting down beside her. she leaned her head on your shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm.

for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, letting her touch ground you. but deep down, you knew this was just the calm before the storm. the real confrontation was still ahead, and you had to be ready for it.

as yunjin closed her eyes, her breathing evening out, you glanced at your phone. a text from nien lit up the screen.

nien lmk if ur ok? y/n i'm fine. thanks for checking in

yunjin shifted beside you, her arms tightening around your waist. you set your phone down, letting it rest on the nightstand. soon enough, everything would come to light.

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