#whatever it is I conjured it in the middle of the night over a year ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnal-lnstinct · 1 year ago

Text

☆☆ Pairing: Toji x Reader ☆☆ Content: ( fluff, comfort fic, established relationship, reader is Megumi's mother, 4-year-old Megumi, bedtime story ) ☆☆ A/N: I always thought my first Toji fic was going to be nasty af but now I just want him to have his family with all the softness they deserve ♥.

Megumi peeked through the crack of the door into his parent’s room, his small silhouette obscuring some of the light from the hallway. He brightened the room further upon slipping through the door and then closing it partially behind him, wandering over to the bed. He approached the smaller blanketed lumps and stood there for a moment as he contemplated the best way to wake up his mother. As he reached up with both hands to give her a nudge, he hesitated to make contact when a deep sound suddenly resonated in the imperfect darkness.

“What is it?” Toji's voice addresses him without so much as turning over, giving no indications that he was awake. Megumi didn't know if his entering disturbed him, but he clutched back his hands when his voice surprised him. “Why're you out of bed?”

Megumi was sure he was braver than he felt, until he felt alone with his father. "S-sorry..." When trying to speak up, he is only able to stammer across his words. Able to get across “monster”, he eventually headed over to his father's side of the bed where his voice just became quieter. Almost embarrassed that he suddenly couldn't speak as well as he did, far beyond his years. His soft sounds did reach his mother's ears and naturally, her instincts woke her. She turns over, facing Toji's back and seeing the wild hair of their son shift just over his figure.

“Megumi? Wha’s’matter?” Her voice croaks fresh from a heavy sleep, lifting her head to get a better look at him on the darker side of the room. Megumi's confidence returned now that he heard her awake and he looked to her, speaking more clearly.

“Dad’s worm ate the monster.”

Toji who didn't bother to even open his eyes after Megumi entered the room, arches a thin brow at his son's response.

“...Oh.” His mother answers, surprised but skeptical of what a child’s imagination could conjure in the middle of the night. She played along however, hopeful talking it out if he was scared about a bad dream would make him feel better. Nothing's ever made him come into their room like this before. “Daddy has a monster-eating worm. That's handy. Ya saw this in your dreams?”

“No. Outside my window.” Megumi quickly clarified. He doesn't realize he's nervously twiddling his fingers together now.

Toji opens his eyes now, tilting his head and looking in Megumi's direction.

“Oh…Okay.” She nodded gently, holding her reservations over the matter in her tired state. “Come. Come on.” She gestured a hand for the little one to climb up and join them, lying back down herself.

As Megumi drew closer, Toji's larger hand gently gripped him under his arm and easily hoisted him up and over, sitting him between them, then returned to his own silent resting position with his back to them both. Megumi crawls up where his mother’s hand patted the small space made for him, wasting no time in getting under the blanket and curling up closer to her. Although he's not sure he can actually sleep after what he saw or if he wants to with that. It gave him such a bad feeling. But he did know he wanted to be here with them, away from the “monsters”. A gentle hand strokes his hair back before his mother's arm tucks around him to hold him close, reminiscent of how she used to hold him when he was much smaller. The unnerving feelings inside his little body faltered with that, just as quickly as they shook his sleep away. Yet he was still wide awake now and the sight still played in his mind.

“Can I…have a story?” He gently asked, shifting his head under his mother's chin.

She hums through her sleepy tone thoughtfully, then affirmatively. She yawned, “Yeah. Let’s see...How about a story with…” Pausing, she searched her own mind for whatever creative juices were available in the middle of the night. Searching for a story with something revered, fearless, and inspiring… “...A dragon.”

Looking with interested wide eyes, Megumi nods and gets more comfy in her warm space, making her smile. She closed her eyes and spun her tale.

“Okay. So…once upon a time, there was a dragon as big and powerful as any other in the world, and looked just as mean as the next… But unlike the other dragons around him... he couldn't breathe fire. The others all thought he wasn't as powerful as he seemed because of that and weren’t very nice to him. It wasn’t fair to the dragon and he didn’t like that one bit, giving him a bad temper. Once he had enough of it, he left his home on Dragon Island to make a name for himself. But he didn't realize leaving his family made him lonely.”

“I don’t get it,” Megumi interrupted. “If he’s big and strong anyways, why don’t he just stay and prove it to the other dragons?”

She opened her eyes, looking forward as she held Megumi a little closer. “I think because… Dragon Island and all the other dragons that looked down on him were all he knew in the world. A young dragon might have ended up lonely all the same if he just defeated them all. It wouldn't change how they made him feel.”

“It wouldn't?” Megumi asks, invested in this lonely dragon.

Toji’s head shifts against his pillow, ear turned toward his wife and child.

She shook her head at Megumi. “Despite what he could do, if he couldn’t breathe fire like them then what he could accomplish wasn’t deemed valuable. Uh...“Dragon-y”, ya know? He'd just be... a monster.”

“Oh...” The little one answered.

“So when he grew up and left home, he developed a reputation for being such a mean and surly dragon that terrified everyone in his path. The dragon enjoyed being that way for a long time too, since it made him feel as powerful as ever and forget how lonely he was on his own.”

Megumi sits up slightly looking at his mother. “-That's good then. Everyone knows he's strong and brave now, so he can go home.”

She smiled, impressed by his observation of the fairy tale but shook her head again indicating otherwise to his words. “He didn't want to go back anymore.” Megumi settles back down and puts his head on the pillow so he can watch her as she continues. “The dragon decided he would rather be free with his anger and his power, feared by all, and that was all that mattered to him. Until one day he met another dragon... who also couldn't breathe fire.”

“Did the other dragon make him not angry anymore?” The little one inquired further on the story. This time, Toji turns on his back with his head turned to face both of them.

His mother smiles at his keen guess, eyes meeting Toji’s in the dark room. “Yeah.”

Looking back to Megumi, she pulled him back into her cuddle and gently patted his back. “The other dragon didn’t live among her kind either so she was alone too. Not because she couldn’t breathe fire, but because she wanted to find a new home with…no idea what to look for...just stories of what it should be like.” She hears Megumi’s deep yawn and feels his weight shift and settle again. “The mean dragon started to see how beautiful this other dragon was for living with an inability to breathe fire, not like any other dragon he's seen before. In no time, he started to change and because he enjoyed the happiness given to him, they fell in love. They got married and shared their first kiss, and when that happened the two dragons turned into a prince and a princess.”

Megumi’s eyes were drifting until the last sentence caught him off guard, eyes widen again looking up at his smiling mother now watching his father.

“...It turns out that the dragon wasn't a dragon to begin with, but a prince who was cursed by an old wizard. A true love’s kiss freed him from his dragon curse and that magic also granted her wish to never be alone again, turning the beautiful dragon into a beautiful princess for him. So they could be together. Soon they had a child and were surprised to learn their little prince could breathe fire. In the end, they lived happily ever after.”

While too tired to do more than lift his head, Megumi continued to express his thoughts on the story, earning his mother’s eyes again. “Wait, they couldn’t breathe fire as dragons but their baby could?”

She nods. “Yep. They were blessed with a powerful and beautiful baby prince who could breathe fire!”

As bright as ever for his age, the young boy asks, “Was this story about me all along?” His mother’s eyes playfully rolled, her hold on him loosening.

“I dunno, can you breathe fire? Think I would have caught that. Lemme see.” She teased as she tilted his head back and gently pried his smiling mouth open. Her nose then turns up as she lets out a laugh fanning the air from her nostrils. “Oof! Maybe you can!”

“No I can't!” Megumi’s giggle fills the room before he yawns again and rubs his eyes. He looks over toward his father and finds Toji watching them both with a content smile. A larger hand now brushes down Megumi’s wild hair, then tousling it about in a playful manner.

“You got your story, time to go back to sleep alright?” Toji instructs in a lower, calming tone. Megumi nods, turning to lie facing his father and closing his eyes. Toji's hand was still on his head gently rocking side to side and his mother's hand patting his back helped him stop fighting his sleep, succumbing all at once after a few minutes of silence.

“Didn’t think he would be capable of perceiving ‘em this soon..” Toji muttered to himself when he pulled back his hand, followed by a large yawn of his own. The soft cadence of his words catches his wife's attention who was on the cusp of falling to sleep herself, heavy eyes partly reopened as she tilts her head up toward him.

“Hm? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Toji dismissed it, smirking to himself. There was no denying how interesting it was going to become with Megumi’s abilities starting to manifest. The “monster” no doubt was a cursed spirit if he saw his trained curse devour it. Toji briefly remembered something from when Megumi was born, an internal twinge he masked with analytical thoughts. If there was a chance that his child would be like him or them, what steps should he take for his benefit–when a baby was just a baby– before he realized the green eyes, dark hair, nose, and a promising intuition like his, all highlighted by features from his beloved making his blessing perfect. So of course, his blessing would be everything he isn't, and he had to wonder if he truly cared if they knew from himself or coincidence.

Tonight answered that, and for a while longer they can continue to be invisible to the Zenin clan until Megumi comes into his cursed technique. Toji grins to himself and finds the irony in having something they would want to better their lineage when it comes from outcasts like him.

A shame for the Zenin. His blessing was cursed to be like them, yet he's not theirs to take. They're not without reason to try when Megumi’s technique comes to light and gets their attention, but they're not stupid enough to take that chance. For now, The Black Spot of the Zenin Clan would simply wait and see.

“–‘Surly’, by the way? Really? Why does that sound like you’re referring to me as some old man?” Toji spoke up, pointing out his wife's fairy tale.

A humored smile grows in her restful face and she breathes a gentle laugh. Another moment passed in silence. “But …she was beautiful? His lost princess?”

“Whatever she is, he didn’t wait for their wedding to kiss her.” He remarked, a witty and teasing smirking in his features.

“Hey now...Nice dragons don't kiss and tell.”

Toji hears the dozy tone as she is barely hanging on to her consciousness now. “She’s worth the fuss.” He voiced tenderly, letting his own eyes drift closed after tucking the blankets over her and Megumi between them. “They…belong with each other.”

“...I love you too.”

Her runaway dragon prince.

#My writing #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro

249 notes · View notes

firsttimewriter92 · 1 year ago

Text

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 4

Description: Your first date with Simon draws near and it turns out to be absolutely magical

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, reader is not vegetarian; mentions of previous mental abuse by an ex; Please be careful when reading

Word count: 4.368

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Part three is here. Please read this one with a bit of caution.

I´m discussing something that has happened in my last relationship and it might be a bit difficult to read. It´s how I cope. I did something like this in another fic of mine and I realised how much it helped me and apparently others. So I incorporated another experience in this fic, hoping that the toothrotting fluff will make up for it.

Please enjoy none the less <3

It was Friday and your heart was already pumping so many different hormones and feelings through your system that you actually began to doubt your sanity.

You hadn’t seen Simon since he hung up your shelf and introduced you to his dog. The dog. God, the moment you thought he had a girlfriend and had seen how he behaved around you had made you so angry for a second. Thankfully however it was all just a misunderstanding and Simon had given exactly what you had needed at that moment.

Total and complete clarity.

He seemed like the type of man that was not socially awkward per se but definitely a bit of an isolated character. You couldn’t see him at lavish social gatherings or busy events. I think the mask would be too much of a conversation starter for it to not get awkward eventually. If he wanted to wear it, whatever his reason was, you were in no position to question him. You didn’t lie when you told him that it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You were just curious, and if he didn’t want to tell you why he wore it, then that´s what it was going to be.

Secretly though, your mind was itching with the numerous faces you´d conjured up in the middle of the night. You found yourself awake wondering how his nose was shaped, how plump or not his lips were, if he had stubble, a beard or was he clean shaven? It didn’t matter to you as much as you thought. You´ve had crushes on men before that had shown even less than hair and eyes. Given they were fictional, the cush itself was real.

And so was the one you´d developed on the brown eyed, whisky voiced half stranger living next to you.

When you got out of bed Saturday morning, you dreaded the whole day ahead of you. He´d only pick you up at 8 so you had to occupy yourself for, what? Another ten hours?

“Fuuuuuuuuck” you sighed as you made your daily dose of coffee and got some eggs and toast ready.

Taking it all to your living room you plopped down on your couch and started your TV. Narcos was silently playing in the background as you made some mental notes about what you needed to do before Simon picked you up.

Shower, shave (maybe even exfoliate), pick out a casual outfit, clean up your apartment at least somewhat. Enough time was spent living out of cardboard boxes and not really settling. Being comfortable in your home would surely help making you more comfortable with yourself and therefore comfortable with the thought of an absolute hunk like Simon being interested in you.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unlovable, no. Not at all. But the men than had shown interest in you before were never like Simon. And that didn’t mean just physically.

Your last relationship opened your eyes to the men that you usually attracted. Insecure boys, hiding behind a strong masculine façade and instead of working on themselves, or realizing what they lacked, always bound someone to them that wasn’t yet aware of their own worth.

Unfortunately, you used to be that kind of person. Your ex was one of the most interesting men you´d ever met. When he started to take an interest in you, you were ecstatic and soon after you began dating. Over the years however, he slowly chipped away at your confidence, misused your people pleasing tendencies and slowly…oh so slowly made you emotionally dependent on him.

So much so, that there was a time where you actually thought there was no other man for you on this planet other than him. That his actions and words were only for your benefit even if you felt deep down that something wasn’t right about the way he was treating you.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, however. So, every time you tried to have a talk with him about how his behavior made you feel, he only needed about 5 minutes of constant talking to make you believe he was actually a great partner and that the problem was either nonexistent, only in your head or your fault.

This led to the fact that trying to argument in your favor was something you´d completely lost.

By the time he almost convinced you that you couldn’t do anything right or at least without him, that you weren’t very much intelligent but super sweet, so it was worth staying with you, you had already forgiven him for cheating on you once.

The second time however was your breaking point. The fact that the girl was underage opened your eyes about him so quickly, that you basically ran for the hills. Behavioral therapy and some new complexes were the result of all that. It did work though. Two years later your life was yours again to take and you grabbed it tightly.

Still, some of the things that had happened changed the way you saw yourself.

Simon was different. He seemed confident in a way that didn’t need to put others down for it. He was friendly, mild and cheeky. And you were going on a date with him. You probably would have never asked him so his direct confession that he was indeed trying to flirt and him asking you out first, made your confidence spike like nothing had done in the past two years.

You tried not to let it go to your head. Never again would you define your worth over the attention of an attractive man. But that feeling never once arose when you thought about Simon. Only excitement and juvenile glee. You marveled in it as you practically danced around your apartment, cleaning, putting stuff away, getting a load of laundry going.

Around three o´clock you got hungry again and decided to walk to the market around the corner to get one of your favorite sandwiches.

You walked into your bedroom to put on a pair of lose, flowy beige pants and a black tank top before putting on your shoes. You grabbed your bag and walked outside. The sun was shining brightly, only disrupted by one or the other white and fluffy cloud as you made your way to the market. It was like the busy streets of London as well as the weather congratulated you on a successful and productive day so far. Smiling and humming happily you purchased your lunch and made your way back with an additional fizzy raspberry lemonade you just couldn’t pass up.

Back in your apartment you closed your door and looked around. It was all coming together. No more boxes, the plastic plants all where you wanted them, and the handing shelf finally filled with a colorful display of your favorite books. A deep breath came forth as you enjoyed your meal and lemonade on your couch. It was still a little weird to you to be fully responsible for your own feelings and the actions you had to take to achieve them. Making yourself happy was never something you put much effort into and that had also been something you had to learn the hard way.

Now, you thought about your life and for the first time in years felt content. Like you didn’t need anybody else to feel this way. Just yourself. And with this feeling you noticed, came the confidence and willingness to let somebody else in again.

There it was again. Your inner eye producing a mess of blond hair, brown, expressive eyes and an impressive body. With all the nonphysical attributes he´d shown you so far that made him so endearing, it was hard not to notice how your body reacted whenever you thought about his broad back, his waist or his massive thighs. You didn’t want to objectify him and still, in the late hours of the night you and your mind had managed to get you off so hard, you had to use a pillow over your mouth to drown out your screams and whimpering.

A shiver ran down your spine when you thought about last night. Even though it took you about 15 minutes to calm down enough from your orgasm to catch a coherent thought, Simon still managed to invade your dreams. His raspy voice in your ear telling you to go to sleep. Telling you gently to rest and leave it to him (whatever he meant), holding you close to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and drowsily stroking your back.

Waking up without him though always put a bit of a sting to your chest. That feeling was soon replaced with an embarrassed giggle as you fell backwards into your pillows again with your palm covering your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe these dreams could become a reality. If you played your cards right.

Determined to make this date a success even though you had no idea what his plan was, you made your way into your shower. Humming along to your little radio you turned off your shower to start shaving when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was again, and your heart swelled twice its size. He was taking a shower, singing along to some tune you´d never heard before. It was mesmerizing. Slow and deep. The wall prevented you from hearing what exactly the words were, but the melody alone was so beautiful that you didn’t care.

You´d just finished shaving and were reluctant to turn on the water again when his shot off and the singing yet again stopped. “Bloody hell” you muttered with an airy, fluttering feeling in your stomach. Pampering was the next step. You used your rich body butter and your loveliest perfume. Feeling great and refreshed you used the rest of the time to put on your fluffy bathrobe, sit on your couch and tend to your toes and feet since you decided to wear sandals.

Only five minutes left, and you just finished putting the last efforts into your hair as you heard three strong knocks on your door. Hurrying over to your door you almost tripped over your own feet. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door. Holy gosh darn fucking crap!! That was not fair. It just wasn’t.

Matching his black mask, he wore a black polo shirt that hugged him way better than the other shirts you´d seen on him. His dark washed jeans were held up by a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. You knew he was built but this? The way his biceps was stretching the material and the jeans clung to his thighs made your mouth water. He´d styled his hair only slightly but it sat still adorably tousled upon his head.

You smiled up at him and squeezed out a breathless “Hi”. Simon looked down at you with slightly bulging eyes as he took in your outfit of fitted blue jeans and a flowy, emerald-green blouse. Flitting his eyes to yours again he smiled. “Hi” he repeated in a happy tone.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, closing your door behind you and locking it. Only now did you realize that Simon was carrying a small basket. A blanket attached to it and your heart started galloping in your chest. “Did you cook for us?” you asked in an impressed tone. He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I didn’t cook. Not this time.” This time, oh God help me. “But I did assemble of sorts.”

“I see” you said happily and started leaving the building next to him. “I thought we´re doing casual” you said teasingly as you eyed him from the side. Simon snorted shortly as he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes wander down your body. It gave you a sensation unlike any other. “So did I. But I´m glad I wanted a little more than casual. Otherwise, I would have been fatally underdressed.”

A violent shiver ran down your back when you saw his eye wink at you. Your face was burning, you were sure of it.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you noticed him leading you towards nearby park. “Patience” he scolded good naturedly.

About 15 minutes later you ended up on a slight hill in the middle of a beautiful park. Simon stopped next to a tree and began rolling out the blanket. His hulking form seemed a little out of place there, trying to straighten out the blanket. You felt your features soften as he gave out a small grunt before sitting up on his knees and looked up at you. His eyes were glimmering in the gradually setting sun and he patted the blanket next to him softly.

Grinning you lowered yourself and got comfortable. From your place up on the hill you had a stunning view of the soft, carpet like plane of grass spreading out in front of you. Many other people were out and about, walking their dogs, going for a run, casually hanging out with friends. The glimmering skyline of London was seen in the background of massive oak trees at the very end of the park.

“You hungry?” Simons deep voice seeped into your ears and with an excited smile you turned your had and nodded. You observed as he opened the basket and pulled out several boxes with tuna sandwiches (no crust), deviled eggs, veggie sticks, tomatoes, a bag of tortilla chips and what looked like self-made guacamole. The last item he produced was a bottle of what looked like expensive white wine before his eyes caught yours again. Your mouth hung comically wide open as you stared at the feast in front of you.

“You´re not vegetarian, are you?” he suddenly asked and looked at the sandwiches sheepishly. You almost squeaked the way he looked so adorably worried for a second.

“Vegan, actually” you said dryly and almost doubled over laughing when he gave you a shocked look. He rolled his eyes and handed you a tuna sandwich. “Sorry” you mumbled as you took it from him. Then, something came to you. “Uhm” you said carefully as your eyes fluttered down to his mask.

His eyes crinkled again. “If you don’t mind” he said quietly and produced something else from the basket that almost made you choke on your bite of tuna. The silk scarf dangled promisingly and naughtily between his fingers.

You couldn’t really tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. You looked around you but there were no other people on the hilltop other than you. The next group of people so far away, their heads were the size of a pinhead.

“I´m asking too much, aren’t I?” Simon said as he lowered the scarf back into the basket. “No,” you said quickly. Your voice octaves higher. Did he not realize that this scenario was the beginning of almost every woman’s wet dream? “Give me the scarf, Simon. Please.”

“You sure?” he asked you. You nodded firmly. “If you need me to wear it while we eat, I will.”

His chest seemed to inflate dramatically. “Let me” he breathed and moved his body closer to you. This is a dream; it must be! Closing your eyes, you felt your hands shaking slightly in your lap as you felt the scarf being put over your eyes.

Simon´s warm breath cascaded over your face as he carefully knotted the piece of fabric behind your head. Your pulse was hammering away when you felt his heat, smelled his wonderful musky, citrussy scent cling to the skin of his throat and face. The deep breath you took before you felt him retreat slowly was nothing you could have stopped and again your ears were blessed with an adorable ´hehe´.

“Alright?” he asked. “Yep,” you breathed. “Can´t see a damn thing.” Grinning you tried to feel for your sandwich a little clumsily.

“Hold on” you heard Simon chuckle. “Seeing as I´m taking your ability to see, I think it´s only fair if I-“ a warm hand touched yours and placed your sandwich back in it. “Help you out a little.” His voice lowered even further. Something you would have bet on wasn’t possible. “Y-You really thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked with a hitch in your voice before taking another bite to occupy your mouth.

“Well. I really didn’t want to pass up an opportunity with you” he answered truthfully. A little strangled sound escaped you seconds before a huge smile split your lips.

You sat for another moment in comfortable silence. “How´s the food?” he suddenly asked. Something was off about his voice and suddenly you realized that he had to have removed his mask. A bead of sweat ran down your back. “It´s delicious” you said as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “Did you make all of it yourself?” Simon hummed. “I did. I usually only cook for myself so I don´t get too fancy with it. But I do enjoy it.”

You carefully patted around you to get to the devilled eggs, trying to remember where Simon had put the container but all you suddenly touched was smooth jeans. “Oh, ´M sorry” you said and retracted your hand quickly. “No worries” Simon said. “What do you want?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Deviled egg, please” you sang and held open your hand.

“Nuh-uh” Simon said and moved in front of you again. “Open up.”

Oh you´ve got to be absolutely shitting me. This cheeky bastard wasn’t really going to…

You obeyed of course, what else was there to do? You opened your mouth and a moment later your lips wrapped around the egg. You could feel Simon´s fingers holding it to your lips before he retracted them in the last second. “Oh my god” you moaned around your mouth full of egg. “Simon, these are incredible.” You heard a gurgling noise in front of you; a bottle of wine being opened shortly after so you brushed it aside.

This is how you spend the next hour. Simon occasionally feeding you with deviled eggs, chips and guacamole. Only the veggie sticks he let you eat by yourself. He handed you the bottle of wine whenever you asked for it and you really tried not to think about how as teenagers, you and your friends had argued many times about weather drinking from the same bottle was equivalent to a kiss or not.

The alcohol settled comfortably into your stomach as did his delicious food.

“Almost time” he said. “Let me get the scarf off you.” Your senses already heightened, you knew exactly where he was on the blanket, when he was in front of you and when his fingertips were about to touch you.

“Time for what?” you asked with a curious smile. You heard a chuckle before the scarf was removed and Simons face came into view. So much closer than it ever had been. He didn’t move an inch, your noses almost touching. His eyes wandering over your face slowly it was almost like you could feel their path burning on your skin. The sun had already set and a warm breeze was wafting all around you, carrying the scent of hot soil, food and the distinct scent of the city.

“You´ll see” Simon murmured into his cloth before lifting his hand and gently touched your cheek. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. His posture was relaxed, his eyes attentive and staring into your soul. It wasn’t like you were any better off. The whole situation was written straight out of a romance novel and the main characters were about to share their first kiss. Even though it was already dark, the lights of the city were still bright enough to see how his breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling in deeper breaths.

A high pitched tone cut the thick air and you saw how Simon momentarily froze before both of you looked over to the skyline of London. Not a second later with a huge bang, a display of beautiful golden flecks decorated the nights sky.

You grinned ear to ear as the fireworks really started and several explosions of light colored your face in green, red and gold. “I love fireworks” you breathed and looked over to Simon with a thankful look in your eyes. He was already looking at you. He stayed seated where he was when you´d moved to see the fireworks better so he was still quite close. His arm was brushing yours when he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“I´m glad” he said almost too quietly.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the fact that this man made you feel at ease, lighthearted and without a worry in the world. You couldn’t remember. You just let your head fall onto his shoulder, looking at the firework in front of you and smiling contently.

Simon´s POV

Simon didn’t dare move. The soft skin of your hand slightly brushing his was enough to make him lose his damn mind. Almost. The first firework had startled him but the way the golden light had illuminated your face and the smile you´d given him had made him forget almost everything.

The moment he saw you he knew that he wanted something special with you. You didn´t mind his mask, respected it even. That was something new he had never experienced with a civilian before. You´d managed to sneak into his life and heart so quickly and with such force it worried him a little bit. Any day now he could get called back to base again. Maybe he needed to speed it along a little?

No. Not with you. You didn’t deserve that. He´d let you know if he had to leave again and just take his chances. For the first time he wanted a kiss more than a night of passionate sex to get the edge off. He could take his own edge off, god knows he had to do it in the barracks often enough.

Your whole being however made him yearn for something that went deeper than that. A hug would be worth more than undressing, a kiss worth more than foreplay.

He took a deep breath without moving his shoulder too much, just letting himself fall into the moment. Watching fireworks, having your head lean on him, his fingers playfully chasing yours.

___ POV

By the end of the fireworks you felt like you were floating. Simons fingers were tangles with yours by this point and it felt so delicate and new, you felt like a teenager again. Your heart was doing summersaults in your chest. Thinking about this evening would end eventually made your heart sink.

The last colorful explosion brightened up the sky and you let out a deep sigh. “That was beautiful” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“You´re very welcome” Simon rumbled, locking his picky with yours. You were glad at this point that your position hid your huge grin. Now that the fireworks were over, the alcohol, food and late hour caught up with you. The small yawn you tried to stifle wasn’t lost on him however and he sighed contently. “Come on. I´ll bring you home.”

He stood up and held out his hand which you took immediately. As if you weight nothing he pulled you upright holding your gaze and your hand for several moments longer.

You helped him gather everything before you made your way back to your apartment complex. He didn’t try to take your hand again which made you wonder a little bit. The both of you talked about anything and everything until you were standing in front of your door.

“That was a lot of fun” you said as you turned to him and smiled. You saw how his cheeks lifted again as he nodded. “It was. I´m glad you liked the fireworks.”

“I did” you said. “How did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?” Simon shrugged comically. “That´s my little secret.”

You giggled. The awkward silence you were afraid was going to come at any second now, did not come. Simon yet again proved that he was a man of action and the direct approach.

“I´d really like to do that again.”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Great” he said happily before stepping closer. He took hold of your hand and lifted it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he waited for the fraction of a second for your reaction. When he saw your almost pleading eyes his clothed mouth came down on the back of your hand, kissing it.

Your knees got week and yet again grew heavy with longing. The breath was propelled from your lungs by the way he did it so gently and sincere.

The soft material of his mask was slightly damp from his breath but you couldn’t care less. He was kissing your skin. His mouth was on you. Cloth or no cloth it made you vision blurr.

Simon let go of your hand after what felt like an eternity.

“Sleep well, darlin´” he muttered almost carefully as if the pet name could somehow be a deal breaker for you.

It wasn’t. On the contrary. You felt like your legs were about to give out.

“You too, Simon” you smiled at him dreamily. Reluctantly you turned around and fumbled for your keys. You opened your door and took another peek to your right in his direction.

He´d done the same thing. Pushing his door open he gave you that juvenile little wave again before disappearing from your sight. Sighing deeply as soon as your door closed behind you, this time you didn’t make it to the couch. Your knees gave out then and there and with the silliest of smiles you glided down your door. Your trusty little toy would have to work overtime until the next time you´d be able to drown in those hazel depths again.

____________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

Tags:

@xheera @fruitymoonbeams-blog @euuuuuuun @oranoyaora

@ghostlythots @strawberrygato @whateverriddlerpussy @mysticalgalaxysalad @abbiesxox

204 notes · View notes

dogpastra · 8 months ago

Text

hi guys. heres my opening and also my first submission to the modern prometheus au

In the dark, the cold and empty street was washed pale by the reflections in the ice and snow. It gave plenty enough to see, and Pastra didn’t intend to stick around in more than one place for too long with the chill already seeping into their legs.

They shivered, the Clyde hood already covering their head, but in this weather, a jacket wouldn’t be able to withstand the cold all night. Their arms folded up to their body to keep just a little warmer as they scanned farther down for signs of location.

The place was jarring, to say the least. Last they were aware of, it was June. Why was it January here and now? It was just them, the cold, and-

“Well! I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas for how to get out of this mess, hmm?”

Right, Lankmann. Their static-voiced companion and creation had followed them, which was, all things considered, a good thing. Probably. Pastra let out a sigh, “No, Lankmann, I don’t. Unless you have something other than calling a taxi to a hotel or something, in the middle of the night, with the roads frozen over this bad.”

“I could use you as a sled!”

“Try again,” They said through a smile.

“Okay, seriously this time, you un-conjure whatever this place is, and we go back to the nice, cozy interior of our house.”

“My house.”

“Close enough.”

“And- I don’t think I brought us here? I thought that was you!”

Lankmann paused, a puzzled expression taking shape on his face. “No? Why would I do that? I’ve got your bills I need to pay, and this terrible conundrum is in the way of that!” He leaned in towards the other as they walked the icy path, “And, frankly, I don’t like ending up in places that aren’t home-shaped.”

Pastra looked past Lankmann’s toothed grimace, their attention caught by the houses and environment along the street.

“So! What does someone do when they are inexplicably tossed to the suburban wastelands?”

“Check the street signs,” Pastra said under their breath, before going on aloud, “Look, the signs. That’s- this is Elk Crescent street! We’re in the actual Dreams Of An Insomniac!”

“So I was right about you conjuring it.”

“No- well, maybe? Point is, this street, this town, I know this town. I made it. So, there should be a gas station up along Main Street that we can make a pit stop at, and from there, we might be able to…” They trailed off, for a moment.

“Able to what?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking. We don’t know what year it is- if it was June before, but it’s still January here, the difference might not just be in the month, but the year, too. And if it’s January, it might be…Either before or after the Wilsons get attacked by Clyde. Which means, there might be an empty house nearby, if we can get to it. Closer than the gas station, too. I think I never had it actually sold with anyone moving in after, so…”

Lankmann frowned. “Oh, god. Don’t even think of that mascot being around, you might manifest it. It’s annoying as-is, we don’t need its canon-counterpart stalking us.”

“I’ll try not to,” Pastra smiled.

“Quick, imagine the town completely emptied!”

“I don’t know if that’s how it works?”

“Make it happen. It’s your town.”

“Clyde hunts parties of 6, or on a day or time that lines up with the number 6, usually. There’s only two of us, and it’s more likely to target people who are weak or alone, as to not draw attention-”

“What did I just say?!”

Pastra laughed, and continued down the street towards a vacant home, as the sharp air caused them to shiver once more, with Lankmann following close behind.

#doai modern prometheus #doai sitcom au #doai

32 notes · View notes

arrowofcarnations · 2 years ago

Text

Happy O’Knutzy Week, everybody!!! WOOT WOOT

All credit to @lumosinlove for the wonderful characters we’re celebrating this week, and huge thanks to @oknutzyweek2023 (@awanderingdeal) for organizing the fest!

And a special lil’ thank-you to @fruitcoops for thinking up the greatest possible name for Finn’s owl, which I shamelessly stole for this. xoxo

Day 1: Proposal (A1)

Finn saw a lot of things on his evening rounds as Head Boy: shortcuts and secret passages (handy), countless portraits (befriended), teachers in dressing gowns (unsettling), and no shortage of classmates fooling around in the dark (mostly overlooked, unless you happened to be an asshole). It hadn’t even been two months since the start of his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, but three nights a week of the same hour-long trek plus all the time he spent doing this as a prefect meant that this was already old hat. Even a rogue suit of armor or quarreling pair of ghosts couldn’t cure Finn of his boredom some nights, the library’s restricted section serving as his only salvation.

Tonight, though, Finn was grateful for boring. It meant he could try and wrap his mind around everything that had happened this week.

The announcement of the Triwizard Tournament. Dozens of witches and wizards from two foreign schools walking through the doors of the Great Hall with their chaperones. First the Ilvermorny group in their blue-and-red robes fastened with gleaming gold knots, then the group from Beauxbatons swathed in pale-blue silk. The songs, the speeches, the furtive giggles of his classmates as cute newcomers caught their eye.

And then the goblet. The rules and warnings. Dropping a scrap of parchment into its blue flames while his friends cheered him on, and doing the same for them. Giving Thomas a playful shove and saying “It’s gonna be you, Talkie, bet my fucking broom on it.”

He hoped Talkie wouldn’t take him up on that.

Hearing McGonagall announce Finn O’Hara as Hogwarts’ champion was surreal. He’d barely registered the applause, the joyful shouts from his friends, the back pats and hair ruffles from his fellow Gryffindors. He was happy, sure, but mostly he was…surprised? Confused? He didn’t know. It’d just happened so fast, and it was still happening fast—the first task would take place in one week. In one week, he’d be standing in the middle of the pitch, but not to play quidditch. He’d be doing—well, Merlin knows what, but he’d definitely be playing to win, putting his skills to the test against the other two champions.

Leo Knut and Logan Tremblay. His competition. June had heard from Percy who’d heard from some Beauxbatons bloke called Saint that there were some ruffled feathers over in the Ilvermorny camp about Knut being picked, as he was still sixteen. He’d looked just as shocked as Finn had felt when his name was called, mouth falling open and blue eyes going wide. Finn didn’t know anything about Tremblay yet; he’d also looked surprised for a second before ducking his head to adjust his hat. When he’d looked back up, a small smile had softened his expression, and Saint and a tall brunette boy on his other side were jostling him and talking in a fast flurry of French.

Tremblay looked strong. Finn supposed that was one thing he knew about him. Knut did, too—but Finn was an athlete, he could keep up with them. Besides, it wasn’t all about brute strength. If chapter seventeen of Hogwarts: A History was anything to go by, the tournament would test their mettle in loads of ways.

Finn rounded a corner and found himself in the easternmost wing of the castle, close to where temporary dorms had been conjured for the visiting students to stay in through the spring. He was about to find a comfy ledge and dive back into that chapter when he saw a flash of something in the moonlight.

“Really?” Finn muttered, tailing whoever or whatever it was with long, quiet strides. He wasn’t in the mood to tell off a fourth year on a dare or a sixth year meeting up with their girlfriend.

What he didn’t expect when he ducked around another corner and illuminated the hallway with a nonverbal lumos maxima was to come face to face with—

“Tremblay,” he blurted out.

Dressed down as he was in loose pajamas, he looked much more approachable than he had at the welcome ceremony. His eyes were wide as he whipped around to look back at Finn, looking startled and caught-out; but then his green eyes narrowed as he recognized him, sizing him up with crossed arms and a defiant tilt to his chin.

“O’Hara,” he replied. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but Finn liked the way his name sounded in his mouth anyway, how his accent curled around the H and made it sound brand new.

And Merlin, those eyes were green. He’d have to learn to ignore that.

“Merde, point that somewhere else. Unless you’re trying to blind your competition.”

“What? Oh, fuck. Sorry.” Finn lowered his arm so the light scattered across the floor. Then he realized he was apologizing to someone breaking the rules, so he added, “Don’t need to blind you. Could just let McGonagall know you snuck out and let her chuck you out of the tournament by your ears.”

Tremblay scowled handsomely, which Finn hadn’t been sure was possible before this moment, and took a step toward him. “You’re out, too.”

Finn walked forward, too, matching him step for step. “I’m on rounds, Frenchie.”

Neither stopped walking until they were in each other’s space, sizing each other up. Finn didn’t know when Tremblay had gotten hold of his wand, but they were both drawn, now, Finn’s still illuminating the hallway.

Somehow, Tremblay still managed to be intimidating while wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and having to look up at Finn. “You don’t—”

“Oh, fuck.”

Both of them jumped, Tremblay wheeling around and Finn gaping over his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. Standing at the end of the hall, also in pajamas, was the third Triwizard champion.

The absurdity of the situation startled a laugh out of Finn. Tremblay looked over at him, then back at the new arrival.

“Knut,” Finn said, gesturing with his free hand as if to welcome him to the corridor. “Join us. We’re either about to have a duel or sneak down to the kitchens for a cuppa. Haven’t decided yet.”

Knut did in fact join them, but didn’t draw his wand, walking with an easy sort of confidence that gave him the air of someone older than he was. “I vote tea,” he said with a sigh. Up close, Finn noticed his eyes were just as striking as Tremblay’s, but instead of a sea of green, he was drowning in an ocean of blueblueblue. “It’s too late—early?—to knock y’all on your asses.”

Tremblay snorted. “Je vais vous assommer tous les deux avant que vous ne puissiez cligner des yeux.”

Knut just smirked. “Essayez-moi, shortcake.”

Tremblay aimed his wand and Finn put his hands on each of their chests, holding them apart. “Oh-kay, let’s cool the hell off, shall we? Did you two forget you’re breaking curfew?”

Tremblay backed off as Knut cocked an eyebrow at Finn. Finn put out the extra light from his wand and tapped the Head Boy badge on his lapel with the end of it.

“Damn,” Leo said quietly, leaning back against the stone wall behind him. He sighed again; Finn suddenly noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“What are you doing creeping around the castle, anyway?” Finn asked, though not unkindly.

Knut gave him a tired smile. “Couldn’t sleep.” He looked at Tremblay, who was still eyeing them like they might bite. “You?”

Tremblay hesitated for a second, then nodded, casting his eyes downward. “Same. It’s—not home.”

Finn let that hang in the air for a second as he thought about what to do next. Walk them down to McGonagall’s office was the “right” answer, but part of the whole Head Boy thing was using one’s best judgment, right? Which meant making exceptions. Still, they weren’t his classmates. Worse, they'd be spending most of the year scheming up ways to beat him at every task.

But now that Finn was really looking, Tremblay had shadows under his eyes, too. Guess that made three of them.

“Right, look,” Finn said, pocketing his wand to signal that he wasn’t itching for a fight. He extended a hand to Knut. “Finn O’Hara, from Galway, ‘ve got an annoying older brother and an owl called Archimedes.”

The smile Finn got this time was a little brighter as Knut shook his hand. “Leo Knut, spelled like the coin but sounds like the lizard. I’m from Louisiana—New Orleans. I have a lot of pets back home, but I could only bring one, so my frog Kermit is here.”

They both turned to look at Tremblay; Knut’s—Leo’s—grin turned wry and Finn waggled his eyebrows until he rolled his eyes, smiled, and shook each of their hands. “Logan Tremblay, from Nice. I have three older sisters, and my cat Simone probably took my spot in the bed while I’ve been out.”

They all looked at each other for a moment, the last of the tension bleeding out of the air around them. Finn had made exceptions before, and his heart told him to make one tonight.

“I know we’re meant to be enemies or something, but it would be pretty shit if you got banned from the tournament before I could meet Kermit and Simone,” he said. “So, boys: a proposal. No reporting each other to teachers, no sabotage, no fights. Yeah?”

“A truce,” Leo said, sounding a little surprised. “Kind of you. I’m not going easy on either of you in the tournament, though. I’m here to win.”

“Leo Knut-like-the-lizard-not-the-coin, I’d be insulted if you did.”

Finn was starting to like Leo’s laugh.

Logan only hesitated for another second before nodding. “We’re all here to win,” he agreed. “But...ouais. Fine. Truce.”

Finn clapped him on the back just to made him scowl again. “Love the enthusiasm, Tremblay. Now—kitchens?”

Leo nodded eagerly. “Kitchens.”

“Tea?”

Logan eyed him. “Do they have mint?”

“Oo-way, Frenchie, whatever you want.”

“Shut the fuck up. Allez, let’s go.”

#o'knutzyweek 2023 #my fic #o'knutzy

70 notes · View notes

thenightfallen · 8 months ago

Text

Night Eyes (rottmnt au)

Part 1: ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- -----

(Thought I’d start posting the neye story here. This means internal dialogue and this whispering. My challenge for you is to decipher the chapter titles and figure out the hidden message. Have fun!)

Frantic breathes are heard under roaring wind. Ruble of a broken city is pushed to the side and a robotic eye scans the ruin.

???: You have to find it, you have to find it, you have to find it, you have to find it- ,,, have to find what? I don’t know just FIND IT

<CRACK>

Startled they scan the horizon. Krang. They get to their feet quickly.

???: SHELLDON.

SHELLDON: Yes, Master Donatello?

He flys along side Donnie as they quickly escape the area.

Don: Save coordinates 42.02’30” N, 71.50’30” W

SHELLDON: Coordinates saved. Running thorough scan of surrounding areas. Aaand downloading data now

Donnie slides down graveled rocks when he hears the ever so familiar sound of mechanics and Krang dogs. He ducks under a crumbled wall. A red light passes over head, and krang dogs growl. He stays silent until they pass. He moves quick and silent as he nears his exit.

He looks in all directions before lifting up a trap door. He slides in with SHELLDON by his side. The hallway stretches on for a while. The walk back to his base is coated in a heavy scent of displeasure.

The hallway opens up to a small room. To his right and left two more tunnels and in front a door. He pushes it open. It’s dark. He flips a switch and purple lights engulf the room. The screens shine and further bring out the shadowy corners.

Donnie plops down in his chair. He sighs and rubs his face.

Don: SHELLDON, start new recording.

=recording now=

Don: ….. Day,,, 1,105. The pursuit of- whatever i was looking for was not a success. No new findings and nothing out of the ordinary. I was cut short by the arrival of Krang scouts. Maybe next time.

Donnie pushes his chair across the room. He picks up a mug as he reaches the sink. The handle is turned and the faucet sprays out drops of water before going dry.

Don: tsk. Out of water. I’ll have to fill the reservoir again. SHELLDON add that to my “important to-do list” please.

SHELLDON: you’ve got it Donnie.

Donnie slides across the room to his computers.

Don: thank you. (To recording) I’ll be digging in the third tunnel tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be able to reach my third point by the next heat cycle. That’s how i can tell the years here. The first three months cool, then it warms up in the middle months. It’s never gone over 125F. In the later months it’s monsoon season, only it’s boiling acid from the sky. I’m just lucky that the earth is coated in a sort of acid resistant, lipid bilayer.

Donnie types into his computer. Reorganizing plots and crossing off areas. He sighs.

Don: No sign of you yet. It’s been 3 years. I’ll find you.

=recording ended=

Don: SHELLDON you may recharge now.

SHELLDON: Alright! Night night Donnie.

Don: Good night.

He looks back over his monitors.

Don: Somethings not right here

He squints at the screens. He knows there’s something missing but what is it?

With growing frustration, he closes the tab.

Beep beep beep

Donnie slides down his desk to another monitor. Using Krang matter he was able to conjure up a tracker around this area. A small group of Krang are passing by in the east. Nothing serious.

It’s getting late and there’s a lot to do tomorrow. Donnie gets up and walks to the door. He turns the lights out on his way into his bedroom. His appetite was gone so there’s no point in trying to find anything. He knows what’s in his own fridge.

Lazily he takes off his prosthetic leg and swings himself into his bed. Pulling his sheets up to his chin. He left his robotic arms on. They are uncomfortable to sleep in but it’s easier to put his leg back on when he actually has hands.

He settles down and stares up at his ceiling.

Don: Good night brothers. Good night April. Wherever you are.

First | Next ->

#yes it’s in script format cuz why not #it looks cool and saves me a lot of brain power #ask the neye twins #neye #night eyes #nothingness n #those coordinates might be useful later on #remember them;)

15 notes · View notes

tranakin-skywalker · 1 year ago

Text

Anakin has never dealt well with stillness. He exists in perpetual movement, energy burning and bursting inside him like a reactor core. “Always on the move,” Obi-Wan used to say about him during his apprenticeship. He never once asked about the burn scar in the middle of Anakin’s back. It’s less a single scar and more a collection of years, layered one over the other until all the nerves around them had died. More than a decade later and there is still a spot the size of his hand in the middle of his back where he can’t feel anything. He’d been young when he learned that an electric prod switched to its lowest setting and pressed against skin would cause third degree burns if left there long enough. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out the best way to keep the prod off his back was to look busy. Stillness is anathema to everything in Anakin’s nature. He can’t remember how many times he’s been told off for his inability to sit still. The need to move, to go. Be anywhere but here. His teachers used to hate it. Something about the night always makes it worse. There is the dark, and the stillness, all other life succumbing to the nocturnal draw of sleep- leaving Anakin alone with only himself. It’s not so bad when he’s awake still because of some project, one day without sleep, two, three, it doesn’t matter. He has something to do, something to busy himself with. Usually something important. He can exist like that just fine. It’s when the nightmares drag him awake into the darkness- still much too early to begin the day but entirely incapable of falling back to sleep. When all he is left with is the confines of his chambers and the stink of fear-sweat and his own mind trying to cannibalize itself. Nightmares always somehow seemed to make the restlessness worse. Maybe it’s the shot of adrenaline straight to his brain more potent than any stim he’s taken- triggering his body into thinking he’s about to die. Root deep fear of a mind that can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what it has conjured by its own imagination. Only it’s not always in his head. Sometimes- his nightmares come true. Sometimes he feels like he’s being eaten alive. In the past Anakin would sneak down to the salles to practice katas until sweat rained down off his skin like Naboo waterfalls and his night-terrors were half faded memories- or he’d steal away to the underlevels of Coruscant and race until mortality seems a foreign concept, flying fast enough that for a moment it feels like he can outrun the death on his heels. Neither is a viable option to him now. Not injured on a star destroyer, barely able to move on his own. But there is something else that might calm the shaking and the fear-sweat soaking through his night clothes. It’s been years since he was a slave-child kept awake by the terror of his own future- but old habits are hard to kill. He doesn’t remember how young he was when he discovered a good way to spend sleepless nights was elbow deep in machinery, hours passed repairing whatever he could reach until the skin of his bare hands split open and wept with blisters. Old enough to realize that he was safe as long as he was useful. That’s not saying much, though. One of his first memories is watching a man being blown up from the inside out. On Tatooine, a child’s first lesson is to learn that they are replaceable, and their second is to learn now not to be.

i swear this fic is just 80% depressing introspection about Anakin's shitty life

#fic: cytokinesis #*shakes a tin can with a single rattling coin in it* some plot?? please sir #i'll get there eventually #probably after another 50k words

21 notes · View notes

silvermoon-soliloquy · 1 year ago

Text

Please Don't Wake Up

(Part One)

Summary: You have a crush on your best friend and you're sleeping over when you get hard and can't sleep; you try to rub one out quietly and not wake him up, you'll be mortified if he notices, but then he starts to stir...

cw: nsfw, m!reader x m!bf, oral (m!rec), handjob, voyeurism, mlm, thigh fucking, small dom/big sub, pwr bottom/soft top

a/n: this is the product of 3 am horny fantasies, I apologize in advance; if you're looking for slow burn, I have other stories in my masterlist for you

[image is a couch from ikea, don't judge me]

---

The low hum of the TV mixed well with the softness of his breathing as the background music for yet another sleepless night. This was getting fucking ridiculous.

Ever since you were a highschooler, you’d get restless before bed, unable to sleep without a release, but it wasn’t always like this.

It wasn’t until you went to college that your best friend started popping up in your head every time you touched yourself, and even when you didn’t.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you’d close your eyes, and bam, there he was. You couldn’t escape it in your dreams, either. Those were plagued with versions of him you’d never get to see, ones where he was all hands and all muscle and curves and…

“That’s enough of that,” you thought. You cursed yourself for thinking about him and dreaming about him, you felt like you were using him. You felt like you were going insane. The guilt made you sick, but looking down, the damage was already done. Now you really wouldn’t be able to go to sleep.

Certainly not without dreams of him and his eager hips and soft lips you just knew in your soul felt like velvet and tasted like ecstasy. A quick glance to your friend since middle school told you he appeared to be fast asleep.

You knew that breathing better than your own, you had committed it to memory, the baseline sound to the evening prayers you made to whatever would make him sleep through the sins you were about to commit.

He shouldn’t wake up for a while.

With one last guilty look over at him on the other part of the l-shaped couch, you slipped your shorts down your hips, just past where the cusp of your ass met the sheet laid out on the cushions, exposing yourself in the dimly lit living room of his single bedroom apartment.

As you slid your hand up and down your aching shaft, you thanked whatever your parents prayed to at night that he lived alone; he had since his girlfriend upped and left him years ago.

And just as it had every other night, his face entered your mind. Your twisted brain conjured up visions of him wearing nothing but your time-worn varsity jacket and a hungry smile as he swung his leg over your side and straddled you like a cowboy.

You may have been bigger than him, taller, better abs, but damn it if he didn’t make you weak. That boy could run you around all day and you’d do every damn thing that came rolling off his sharp tongue as long as he let you between his legs, or in that bossy mouth of his.

His thighs weren’t too bad, either, fuck, his thighs. You wouldn’t mind getting to fuck those thighs, those thick, juicy, supple thighs. You knew from experience how smooth his skin was, how soft and warm.

Your hips joined in with your hand as the scene in your head continued to play out, feeding off your dirty thoughts.

He was riding you there, like a good cowboy should, his hands, calloused from years of music lessons, splayed against your stomach like sprawling roots as he made those holy thighs jiggle in his unholy efforts.

You imagined his face, flushed and breathless, as he panted your name, like music to your touch-starved ears, and gazed down at you with seductive, pleading eyes.

Your knees always felt weak at his gaze, and when you thought about him looking at you like that, well, that just made the already burning heat inside you build and build and build.

Maybe you’d get back at him for the way he turned your limbs to jelly by making it so that he couldn’t walk; at least not for a little while, just long enough to hold him and make him yours. You wanted him all to yourself, damn it, why was that so hard? Was that so selfish of a thought?

You’d be reaching your limit soon, if you kept thinking like this. Your free hand came over your mouth to muffle the audible proof of your secret endeavors, but in the otherwise silent room, you heard another noise.

You shot your gaze over to where your best friend slept and realized when, instead, your eyes found his that you were no longer alone.

He was watching you.

---

Part Two

#male reader #best friend #reader x best friend #mlm #voyuerism #thigh fucking #power bottom #soft top #minors dni #minors do not interact

29 notes · View notes

onetimetwotimesthreetimess · 2 years ago

Note

magnus culmination of bad decision making came when he watching alec grinding against some dude in a club (i cant crack anymore)

Part I

Part II

Part IV

The second he steps inside the club, he is surrounded by a dozen of bodies around him—touching and grinding from every direction.

There’s not a single part of his body that isn’t being touched by someone right now and Magnus from a year ago would’ve thrives under this, but this Magnus, this version of him abso-fucking-lately hates it.

On any other day, Magnus loves being appreciated and gazed by the world but not right now. Not since that night.

Not since Alec Lightwood.

Because there’s only one person Magnus wants to be touched and appreciated and loved by.

But he knows he’s been fucking up constantly for reasons which are beyond his own understanding, so in order to feel even a minuscule percentage better, he comes to the club that Catarina has been asking him to.

So he’s here.

Magnus tries to lose himself in the music, the debauchery, pushes his heart inside a box and wants to let his body feel something when his eyes land onto something and he freezes.

His eyes widen as he notices the scene in the middle of the club.

It sets fire inside his chest and a pain so insurmountable that it shakes his core.

Magnus powers through his pain and sadness but this is something unexpected because never in his years he’s ever thought that he’d ever have to witness Alec with someone else.

And it’s not just Alec standing or holding hands with someone, albeit he knows that watching Alec hold hands with someone is going to hurt more but this is excruciatingly horrible too.

Watching Alec’s arms wrapped around someone else, his head tilted sideways as the green-haired seelie kisses his neck, hand wounded in Alec’s unruly hair.

Magnus blinks a few times to check if he’s really witnessing this or if it’s his messed up brain conjuring something so evil but when he opens his eyes, Alec is still there, his hand inside the back of the seelie’s shirt.

Alec throws his head back and chuckles, but Magnus knows that it’s not his real laugh.

He’s seen when Alec laughs and making Alec Lightwood laugh feels better than whatever shadowhunters imagine must feel in the presence of Raziel.

Raziel’s powers have got nothing on Alec Lightwood’s smile.

So he knows it’s not a real laugh but that doesn’t matter when someone else has got their hands inside Alec’s pants because suddenly everything hurts so fucking much—and Magnus can’t do anything about it.

Anything logical that is.

He knows about Alec’s string of one night stands but the shadowhunter has never been cruel and throwing that in his face, has always find men that Magnus doesn’t know, at places that Magnus doesn’t go to. He has never tried to intentionally hurt Magnus.

Which makes what he’s going to do next worse.

Magnus snaps his fingers and within the span of five seconds, the seelie starts sweating profusely, his entire body itching and he witnesses and feels a sense of relief.

And so much self loathing for his actions.

It takes another thirty seconds before the Seelie separates himself from Alec and creates sone distance. The green haired man says something that Magnus can’t quite put but then the man starts walking towards the bar.

“Hello,” Magnus says warmly as he hovers over the guy behind the counter.

The man frowns before turning and then his eyes widen. “You’re Magnus Bane?”

“I am.”

“Is there something you want?”

Magnus’s smile widens, “Yes. I would like you to leave the club right this second. And never see that man again.”

The seelie turns and realises he’s talking about Alec and then gets a defiant look.

“Why?”

He knows it won’t be easy. Seelies are a tough crowd.

But this one seems young and inexperienced so Magnus snaps his finger and they’re almost dark blue.

His voice is chilled and deep with the next words. “Because I said so. You would do well with not refusing the Son of Asmodeus,” and the words leave an ugly taste in his mouth.

The seelie blinks before a wicked smile is on his face.

“So that’s the shadowhunter.”

“The shadowhunter?”

“The shadowhunter. The one who has Magnus Bane on his knees,” he adds. “I get it. He would have me on my knees in another five minutes too.”

The words sends a spike of anger and his magic turn almost black and he rages, “Leave.”

The Seelie puts up his hand in mock surrender.

“I will leave. I just need to say goodbye to him once. Or do you want me to leave him without a word?”

Magnus wants to say yes but he can’t be this cruel to Alec, doesn’t want him to feel more used and terrible lets the man walk back to Alec and watches their conversation from afar.

He sees confusion on his place before understanding dawns and Alec nods.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Magnus turns to find Catarina with a disappointed face.

He sighs and looks down. “I know.”

“Will you stop with this idiocy?”

I wish I could.

“He will find out someday, Magnus. And there would be no damage control after that.”

Cat berates him for another few minutes and then Magnus hears a glass break behind him, he turned to see what it was but there seems to be no one in particular except a hundred unfamiliar body and he frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. I thought there was someone.”

#these bitches might never have a happy ending lmao #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec fics #my writinf

59 notes · View notes

waltwhitmansbeard · 2 years ago

Text

go on, claim my heart: chapter seventeen

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Cassandra de Rolo is alive. Keyleth's mind can hardly process the information, so stunning is it. She has known Percy since he was a boy, flinching and haunted, and even though, as they grew together, he would eventually come to tell her tidbits of what he remembered of his lost siblings, it was Cassandra he spoke of the least. Keyleth could tell she in particular was a sore spot for him, and while she used to believe this was due to the fact that she had been the youngest of all the children, she now knows it was Cassandra's dying in his arms that has led him to keep her locked away in his mind all these years.

Except Cassandra didn't die in his arms—or did she? They are dealing with a necromancer, after all; Keyleth would be foolish to dismiss the notion that the Briarwoods resurrected the child after slaughtering her in front of her brother. Either way, the Briarwoods have kept her alive for over a decade, but to what end? Why keep one de Rolo child after so cruelly dispatching with the rest? Could she play some part in their larger schemes? And how does Vilya factor into all of this?

She is so lost in her own thoughts that she nearly misses the door to the cellar reopening and Percy and Vex's descent. She searches her oldest friend's face, and all she sees there is stunned despair. She knows the feeling well. As the two rejoin the circle, Keyleth reaches out and grabs Percy's hand. He meets her eyes, his shining and wild, and she says nothing. There are no words to say.

Chancellor Desnay continues their previous conversation. "You've said that you did research before coming here. What have you learned that might be of use to our cause?"

Pike, who is sitting on Grog's shoulders, begins. "I spent most of my time researching necromancy as best I could with the resources available to us in Syngorn. These magics are dark and forbidden, so much of my reading covered the prosecution of such arcane practitioners and the extent of their crimes, and not as much the magics themselves. I know that in addition to the ability to create undead, Lady Briarwood's abilities can bring about death swiftly and effectively." She frowns sorrowfully in Percy's direction. "She is...quite the efficient killer."

"They both are," he replies tonelessly.

"I wanna know more about this vampire," Grog interjects. "As in, how do I go about killin' 'im?"

"I think you're going to be a key part of that strategy, Keyleth," Vex says.

Keyleth starts, surprised. "Me? Why?"

"One of a vampire's greatest weaknesses is sunlight. I can presume that getting him outside of that castle in the middle of the day is unlikely, so we'll need to bring the sunlight to him."

Grog's eyes go wide. "Can you do that?"

Keyleth shrinks in on herself a bit. She has only done what Vex is describing once, when Gaben Finefirn attacked her and Vax in the middle of the night. She was terrified and desperate when she did it, and though she feels much the same way now, she doesn't know if she'll be able to call the sunlight to her hands as she did back then. "I...I don't..."

Vax's arms slide around her chest and hold her tight. "It is an option," he says to the rest of them, his tone making it clear that he will brook no argument. "Let's explore others."

The group goes on to share what they learned in their research in Syngorn, adding to it whatever helpful tidbits Chancellor Desnay can share. Desnay tells them that the remaining population of Whitestone is desperate for change, for relief, and Keyleth, though single-minded in her goal of saving her daughter, is eager to give it to them. No one should have to live under the kinds of oppression that these townsfolk have for over a decade. Her heart breaks for Percy, who has walked through a shadow of his home's former glory, has seen the ghosts of what once was in each cracked brick and dead flower.

She knows she must figure out how to conjure the sunlight that she created all those months ago in her chambers. It is not an option, as Vax suggested, but a necessity, something she must do to aid her compatriots and bring her daughter home. She wishes she were better at this, her magic, more confident in her abilities. She watched Pike charge forth to face down all those mindless undead and wield Sarenrae's power without hesitation, and it was a sight to behold. So far, Keyleth has had little success in using her gifts when not prompted by intense fear or anger, with the exception of some gentle magical encouragement for the plants in her garden back in Zephrah.

Vax has made more of an effort in his studies with Pike. His magic is far closer to hers, also bestowed to him by a goddess, and he has had an easier time of following her direction. Keyleth tries not to feel jealous, but she does wish that she had the guiding hand of a god to direct her talents.

As she listens to her friends and colleagues outline the difficulties they face in their aims, she cannot slow the swirl of despair that chokes her heart. Her baby girl is lost in this storm of death and darkness, and who are they to help her—a sheltered princess, a court jester, a holy woman, a councilmember, and a couple of guards? Who are they in the face of those who would wield the undead, when they have no idea what they want, what they're planning, what they're capable of?

There is a pair of lips at her ear. "Hey." Vax's voice is so low that he doesn't interrupt whatever it is Desnay is saying. She turns her head just enough to indicate she's heard him. "Are you with me?"

He is solid and warm behind her, and for the briefest moment, when she closes her eyes, they could be back in Zephrah, resting against the trunk of her mother's cherry tree. She nods. "Always."

"I cannot do this without you."

Despite her despondency, she smiles. "You'll never have to." She sighs. "I just wish we knew more, more about what they were up to, what they wanted with Vilya. Oh, to be a little thing inside that castle, something they couldn't see, something that could fly up and hear all of their scheming! I'd fly right in and learn all of their plot and then—"

Keyleth's imaginings are cut off not by another speaker, but rather by the fact that she no longer has the ability to speak. Vax's arms are gone around her, and where her own arms used to be, now there are leathery, membranous wings, which are flapping wildly to keep her afloat. She looks to Vax, who is suddenly huge and rather blurry and looking at her with his jaw nearly on the floor, and she tries to speak, but what comes out instead of words is a sharp, high-pitched chirping.

"Um." Keyleth spins in the air to look at Scanlan, who, like the rest of the group, is just as visibly gobsmacked as Vax. "So...the princess is a bat now. She just...is a bat. That is a thing we all saw?"

Keyleth flies forward, ignoring the others' breathless gasps, and stares into the reflective sheen of Grog's battleax. Staring back at her is a bat, about the size of Pike's foot. Keyleth flaps her wings, and the bat's wings move accordingly.

Oh. Well.

"My wife is a bat." Vax sounds on the edge of hysteria. "I...my wife is a bat."

She flies back to Vax, who watches her approach warily, and settles on his knee. She attempts to speak again, but more chirps come out instead. Annoyed and very much not wanting to be a bat anymore, she flaps her wings aggressively, hoping to shake herself out of it, and after a few seconds, the world is shifting rapidly, and she collapses in a heap of arms and legs in Vax's lap. "Oh!"

Vax quickly helps her right herself while everyone starts talking at once.

"How did you do that?"

"Did you know that was something you could do?"

"Can you turn into something that isn't a bat?"

"Hey...where did the bat go?"

Keyleth frowns at Grog and ignores his question, but then says, "I...have no idea what that was. Certainly that was never anything I'd done before...Pike?" She calls for the Mistress of Divinity hopefully.

Pike throws her hands up. "Do not look at me, Your Highness. I have seen much in my time, but that...that was new."

Keyleth looks to Vax, hoping he'll have some kind of insight, but he seems just as lost as she is. "You were a bat," he says unhelpfully.

"Right." There's an air of awkwardness in the room now, as no one knows what to say to the sight of a princess magically transforming into a bat, and frankly, the princess doesn't know what to say to it, either. What she does know, however, is how useful this ability would be for the very thing she'd been speaking about when she transformed. If she were a bat, she could fly into the castle under the cover of darkness and listen for the Briarwoods' schemes—or even better, to find where they are keeping Vilya.

Keyleth smiles slow and wide as the plan coalesces in her mind. She laces her fingers with his and squeezes tight. "What is it?" he asks, confused by what must be quite the manic look on her face.

"I know what we ought to do next," she says, "but you're not going to like it."

"I hate this."

No one is listening to Vax as they scurry up the hill leading away from the town of Whitestone and toward the castle. It is dusk, with the proper darkness of night quickly approaching. They move as swiftly and silently as they can; it was easy enough to avoid the army of zombies with Desnay's expertise, and now they are being careful not to draw the attention of the guards posted closer to the castle itself. The grounds are ringed with evergreens, so the group easily finds a place to hide while still keeping the giant stone structure in sight.

"I hate this," Vax hisses, pulling Keyleth to his side. "This is wildly dangerous."

Keyleth presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'll be fine. In and out."

"You've done this once, and you have no idea how long it lasts. What if you turn back while you're in there?"

"Twenty minutes," she promises, squeezing his hands in hers. "Surely it'll last at least that long. I will go in, learn what I can, and get out."

Vax's heart feels as though a fist the size of Grog's is crushing it. "If something happens to you in there..."

"It won't. It won't." They both know she can't know that, but he lets her say it anyway. She turns to the rest of the group. "You lot should spread out, stick to the shadows. I'll come back soon."

Vax presses a final kiss to her forehead, and then he lets go of her hands. Before she can do anything, Percy is there, pulling her into a hug. Vax can just barely hear him whisper to her, "If...if you see her..."

Keyleth smiles softly. "I'll let you know. I promise." She extracts herself from a hug, shrugs with a small laugh, and then, mystifyingly, his wife is a bat once more. She lets out a few squeaks so high-pitched they rattle his eardrums, flaps around his head—despite the unbearable horror of their situation, she seems to be having fun—and then takes off into the falling night, soon invisible against the blue-black of the sky.

Vax stares at the last place he saw her, not breathing. A hand slides into his and he jumps, glaring at his sister for scaring him. "She'll be alright," Vex assures him, and somehow, he's more inclined to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"How do you know?"

Vex shrugs a shoulder. "She's a mother. She's not going to stop until her child is safe."

Vax's brow furrows. There's something Vex'ahlia isn't saying, he's sure of it, but one thing he learned ages ago was never push her to say something she was unwilling to divulge. He thinks of their mother, how glad she must have been in her final moments that they were far from Byroden, far from the flames and the screaming and the terror. "That is what worries me."

"It shouldn't. We'll need her, her magic and her strength and her leadership, if we are to bring Vilya home. Brother, she must be able to call the sunlight to her as you described her doing in her chambers that terrible night. We need her to weaken Lord Briarwood so that the rest of us stand a chance of killing him."

Vax sighs. "There is so much of her magic she has yet to understand." He gestures toward the direction she flew off in. "Every day it seems we learn something new."

"Then let tomorrow be this," Vex insists. "I know how much you wish to protect her, but you cannot protect her so much she is afraid of her own abilities. She needs your support, Vax, and so does your daughter."

There are few things in the world Vax hates more than when his sister is right. He squeezes her hand. "Alright, Stubby. Presuming she makes it back here alive, I'll...talk to her."

Vex checks her hip into his with a smile and then melts back into the forest, leaving him to return his gaze to the darkened sky where his wife disappeared.

#critcal role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #tlovm #tlovm fic #my fair lady #go on claim my heart #my fic

11 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 2 years ago

Text

Everyone Leaves, Ch. 4: Virgil

Colorized version of Wolf-in-front-of-Moon, Clément Bucco-Lechat CC 3.0

Prev - Virgil - Next - All - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

Virgil appears and demands to know what Remus has done to Logan. He finds Logan happily sleeping, sprawled over Remus' lap. And a frighteningly happy Remus.

CW: intrusive thoughts, wolf bite, blood, swearing, unreality A continuation of @lost-in-thought-20's incredible story for the @tsspromptmonth 🌸 Spring Cleaning 🌸 event. ---

The door rattled in its frame, chunks of cement from the walls clattering to the floor in a dusty avalanche. “Remus!”

BANG BANG BANG BANG

The wolves whimper in the corner. There’s only one Side his wolves fear.

“Open the fucking door, Remus!” Virgil’s tempest voice shakes his bones but he ignores it. Virgil was all talk. He’s the one who should be afraid. “What’d you do? Impersonate him? Got him tied up in there?”

“Oooo, kinky!” Remus cackles as he waves the door open. “And keep your voice down, Emo,” Logan slept better with the sound of his voice. “The nerd’s finally asleep.” He stares into Virgil’s shadowed eyes, the black smeared with tear tracks. Logan's presence brought company but it also brought light. Dim, but enough to relish in the fear in Virgil's eyes. “Wake him and I’ll spend every night for the next year camped out in your little brain while you try to sleep.”

“Do your worst!” Virgil’s posture stays strong but there’s a warble in his voice and Remus knows his point was made. Anxiety knows better than to take his threats as mere words. “Just put Logan back to normal! Release him from whatever you did and let him go! We need him! Thomas is in a fucking police station getting fingerprinted right now.”

Remus sucks on the tip of his middle finger. “Hmmm… yummy. I always wanted to know what that ink tasted like. Sticky, bitter, kinda like—”

“Shut up!” The tempest voice shakes through his bones and Remus shivers, staring back with green glowing eyes. Virgil takes a deep breath to calm himself. It doesn’t work. “Look, you can have whatever you want, Remus, just let him go so he can fix this!”

“But this is what I want. Right here, in my arms, in my room.” He smiles, mouth stretched wide enough to touch his ears. If he stretched enough, he could even drop his jaw just like Janus used to when he asked.

Back when Janus stayed. Back when Janus gave a fuck.

Virgil’s steps falter and the wolves slink out from under his bed. “See? Even they’re not afraid of you anymore,” Remus reaches out to pet the closest wolf and its ears flatten against the top of its head and it sinks its fangs into his hand.

Remus smiled as he tore his hand from the beast’s mouth. It was then that Logan woke. “Remus?” He blinked, staring into Remus’ eyes.

“Logan, you’re alright!” Virgil dropped to his knees and reached for him. “We need you, we—” The wolves snarled the moment Virgil’s hand grazed Logan’s and he drew back.

Save for a single glance, Logan ignores Virgil and sits up facing Remus. “You are injured,” he frowns and holds out his hand. A large red box appears before him and he opens the case to reveal a perfectly organized first aid kit. He takes out supplies and begins flushing Remus’ wound with sterile saline. Like tears. Remus hissed under his breath, the water sharp and biting the wound.

“Logan? Wha—How did you do that? Only Remus can conjure in his room.”

“Falsehood,” he said without looking up from his ministrations. "I obviously just did and I am not Remus.” Wound irrigated, Logan began blotting his skin with a soft cloth, pristine white and clean like his room had never seen before. He worked silently for a moment, those laser sharp eyes staring at the puncture wounds on Remus’ hand like he fucking dared them to start seeping blood again.

“I will bandage your wound now,” he said, raising his eyes up. Logan looked at him with a softness Remus hadn’t seen since… Fuck Janus. He nodded.

“Do whatcha gotta do, Nerdy Wolverine,” he grinned, a little too widely. What was the worst that could happen? The bite was already starting to burn and throb. Logan’s nursing would only help, even if it hurt like hell while he did it. “I won’t fight you.”

“Yeah, right,” Virgil scoffed. “Be careful, Logan. I’m pretty sure I still have Remus’ teeth marks from that time I tried to get a chunk of glass outta—”

“I will be careful, Remus.” Logan didn’t get that Virgil was warning the nerd against what he would do and just trained those eyes on him, holding still with Remus’ hand twitching in his palm. “Tell me if the bandage grows uncomfortable and I will adjust it.”

Remus nodded, mouth hanging open but nothing would come out. The only other person who could shut him up was Dee and that was with his powers. Even Virgil finally shut up and just watched, all tense and coiled like he expected Remus to attack their resident logician.

After his wounds were hidden under layers of gauze and those little pads you get at the hospital, Logan pressed down on each of his nail beds, Remus watched, too, as tannish pink went white and then quickly returned. “I believe this dressing adequate now. I will need to change your bandage in a few hours to guard against infection.” The nerd looked up and actually smiled. “How does it feel, Remus?”

The wolf who’d bitten him slunk out from the shadows, head hanging low and her tail between her legs. She lay down in front of Logan, whining quietly. “Better, Lo.”

“That is a relief,” Logan murmured and laid one hand on the wolf’s head, instantly turning off that high-pitched whine.

“Okay, so you fixed the nightmare’s hand.” Virgil jumped to his feet and opened the door, eyeing the wolf like it had grown tentacles. That’s an idea. Would they be slimy like her insides, intestines flopping through her pelt and hanging to the floor? Or would they match her fur, like boneless prehensile tails sprouting from her back. With teeth.

Virgil was still at the door, reaching for Logan’s hand. “Come fix this mess with the cops! You belong up there with us.”

Logan stared between them and they all stared up at him, watching the cogs in his brain whir as he tried to decide. Even the wolf knew what was what and she slid her muzzle off his lap and stood between him and Remus.

Remus reaches for Logan. He is not going to let him leave, too. He can do what he should’ve done with Virgil. What he should’ve done with Janus. As soon as he gets close to the wolf, she lets out a low growl and clamps down on his hand, teeth piercing the skin like it’s paper. His blood drips to the floor and Logan’s shadow gets longer as he follows Virgil out to the hallway and—

“I am not leaving.” Logan’s sharp voice popped the vision and Remus stared. The wolf was still curled on his lap, tail swish-swish-swishing against the cracked cement. “Nothing has changed. If I am to return, you must listen to me.” She whined again and Logan nodded, scritching her around the ears like he was a fucking puppy. “And you must listen to Remus. Not…” he raised his other hand, silencing Virgil’s protest faster than Janus ever could. “Not to do everything he says, but to listen. He is half of Thomas’ creativity. Some of his ideas are worth exploring.”

“You’ve fucking lost it, Logan! First Nico and now this?” Virgil shoved both hands in his hoodie pockets. “Fine. We’ll figure it out without you,” he muttered and backed away out of the room.

“If you choose not to see reason, then that is your best course of action,” Logan replied calmly, fingers buried in the wolf’s fur. It looked soft like that, plush and comforting like one of Pattycake’s stuffies. The door slammed and Remus looked up. He hadn’t even seen the Emo leave.

#Everyone Leaves #ts remus #ts janus #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #sanders sides fic #tss promptmonth spring cleaning event #by lost-in-thought-20 and edupunkn00b

10 notes · View notes

jumbledqueerramblings · 1 year ago

Text

I was always the brunt of the joke. Until I was 19 years old, someone being in a relationship with me, much less intimate with me was the punchline. I can’t really blame them, It was definitely ironic that the Valentine’s baby had one eye bigger than the other, extra stomach and arm padding, and crooked teeth that had a gap in the middle. I wasn’t particularly charismatic either, so my personality didn’t help much. Of course, I, like any other unsupervised kid groomed on the internet, engaged in sexual roleplays and phone sex with my then “boyfriend” but…

The first time someone expressed overt desire toward me, I laughed in his face. The memory is so vivid to me despite being under the influence of some shitty drugs we picked up off the street and two liters of Everest beer. Of a group of 15 or so adults who’d snuck up to the hotel rooftop as the streets of Kathmandu buzzed and beeped rhythmically after midnight, we were the youngest by at least 5 years. As such we’d developed a sort of tit for tat cat and mouse game of banter. This night we sparred insults between drags of whatever shitty joint the frenchie’s had conjured up. Smoke wafted upwards as I choked down a laugh at a jab a friend had made about the two of us “looking cozy over there” I rolled my eyes and snorted before cursing him out and rolling my head back to look up at the stars. I blinked the sleepiness out of my eyes at some point and told everyone I planned to turn in. Others mumbled agreement and followed suit. He was in the room next door. He texted me shortly after my eyes finally felt heavy again, and I could almost hear the lilt in his voice as he sent over sweet nothings. I, at 19 years old, thought he was pulling my leg. It wasn’t until a few days later, when he told me my “hard to get” act was getting old that I realized he was serious. Sometime later we messed around and honestly one of the only things I can remember was a long silver necklace that dangled in my face the whole time. Was he attractive? Sure. But I never loved him, really I didn’t even like him, he was sort of just the easiest thing to cling to as we all ran away from our problems at home.

The point is… my body has almost always been a point of scrutiny, and it wasn’t until 7 years ago that I became aware that it could be something else.

So when you look at me like I hung the moon and painted the stars, I don’t know HOW to handle it. You, laughing gleefully when I finally relinquish control and my voice shakes and cracks and squeaks. You, when you grab, and pull, and bite, as if you’re trying to swallow me whole. Dragging your fingers along the top of my rib cage or the back of my thigh because you know it’ll make me squirm. Pressing melting kisses along the column of my neck where my collarbone meets my spine just to hear a breathy whimper. Whispering sweet nothings that become syrupy condescending somethings that I can’t quite decode because the edges of my brain are static. Telling me all the toxic terrible things I’m desperate to hear even though I know I shouldn’t want to hear them. Perfect. Delicate. Precious. Yours. I don’t have time to think about the way I look, I just want to hear your laugh again. Coaxing me to forget, to live in the moment, that I don’t have to change.

I love getting lost. Digging my fingers into your shoulders, into the sheets. Fantasizing about all of the different ways I could be yours. I don’t know how to be normal about this anymore. I don’t even think it’s about the sex I just want to be praised. Maybe that’s weird and selfish and stupid but when your eyes flash and your expression becomes almost cocky, all I want to know is how perfect you think I am. How good I am. How you’ll never tire of me and I’ll be yours. I don’t know how you could possibly look at me the way you do, with awe and adoration and lust, but god, I hope you never stop.

1 note · View note

deuterosapiens · 1 year ago

Text

So, about six years ago (seriously? I whisper, suddenly aware of the passage of time once more), I had tried to read William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist. I never finished it because college and reading for fun do not mix. I read Perfume for the first time that year, loved it. Not important.

I'm very much not the same person now that I was then. I realized that when I re-read Perfume and discovered how different my understanding of Jean-Baptiste had become since I originally read it. Which, I suppose, is not the best segue into this, but whatever.

It is eight-twenty-nine at night. My kitten Pazuzu is trying to steal my microwavable burrito. I just finished reading The Exorcist.

I think it says more about me than it does Blatty's writing, but I found this novel quite beautiful. It stems clearly from Gothic literary tradition, combining elegant prose with religiously motivated horror. And of course, in true Gothic fashion, Godly tradition is upheld to triumph over evil.

In a world where horror films, and religious horror films, are a dime a dozen (this book alone has five films, a television series,and an upcoming reboot Trilogy to its credit, to say nothing of it having a literary sequel), it's safe to say that a modern reader is unlikely to find it too frightening. Hell, I can easily see a modern reader becoming extremely bored while reading it. It's not the book's fault that modern audiences have The Conjuring Universe to occupy their religious horror endeavors, twelve seasons of AHS, and enough horror-themed mini-series and full-length shows with more edge and more bite to them than anything an eighties' R-rating can shake its one full-frontal nudity shot at.

I can't imagine now what reading this was like then, just as I can't imagine what watching the movie was like, then. When it was the most terrifying film ever made, and the most terrifying novel ever written. Horror, in our modern world, is such a commercialized gore-fest that smaller, more thought-provoking slow-burn drama gets praised by critics, torn apart by audiences, and ultimately is forgotten.

That's not to say that The Exorcist asks too much of its reader. This book isn't asking you to sit down, think, contemplate humanity and the ramifications of consumerism or anything. It simply wants you to sit back and be, just a little bit, frightened. There's depth, of course. After all, a simple fright with no real substance isn't worth much to most audiences.

There's a wonderful conflict that makes up the backbone of this story. A bit of driving question, which the novel takes up quite a bit of time looking into: is it psychological, or is it Satanic? I find it amusing that audiences now will simply accept that possession is part of the narrative, will simply accept that "yes, supernatural events exist in this setting, and yes, all of this evil can literally be blamed on straight-up The Beast, The Antichrist, Satan himself," but perhaps it says something that audiences then needed a bit more proving before they would accept that.

There's a funny factoid about how the "it was a dream" ending for The Wizard of Oz came about as executives weren't sure that audiences would accept that, yes, Dorothy did go to a magical enchanted land and now some of the most profitable properties are fantasy world which offer no such conceit. Yes, Westeros is a real place. Yes, the Continent is real. Yes to Middle-earth and so forth.

Reading The Exorcist reminds me quite a bit of that. The audience must be shown that there is no other explanation for these events beyond the simple reality of demonic possession. If you are not expecting it, I can imagine these conclusions will be quite unsettling to the reader.

Dear holiest of Hellfires do I love Blatty's prose here. It's approachable and elevated. It expects the audience to be gripped by this investigation and does a damn good job of making sure exactly that happens. I'm sort of reminded of Agatha Christie but as I've only read Murder on the Orient Express and that was (damn, holy hell) ten years ago, I cannot claim to know how strictly correct that impression is.

Possessed Regan's dialog is unintentionally extremely funny now. Like a PG-13 impression of a Twitch streamer who's just discovered that the word fuck exists. It might have been unsettling to hear a twelve-year old talking like that then, it's hilariously expected now.

You know how absolutely no one is frightened of Bram Stoker's Dracula now, and yet it's still praised to hell and back as a horror classic because it is legitimately good, even if horribly dated and unintentionally quite funny? That's The Exorcist.

I might not read it again, because honestly, the film is the exact perfect adaptation, but I'm happy to have finally finished it once.

#reading #rambling #the exorcist #reading the exorcist #william peter blatty #long post #books

0 notes

009720kakashi · 1 year ago

Text

libraryofeverything

"I understand that now." Kira assured. "And believe me, I don't blame you, I know that ANBU are very important to keeping Konoha safe. It's just, ANBU, for me specifically, have been something I had to be wary of. They are the last grains of sand in my hour glass, as it were and... I'm not ready to give up yet so I have to be at least a little cautious at first." She explained, hoping she hadn't offended him. "But, now that I know you're willing to listen, I won't run away." Though what came next was a complete shock to Kira, and it showed on her face. "Why... would my mother allow such a thing? I don't understand." She shook her head in disbelief then sighed in thought as she tried to answer his question. "No, my mother never said where my gifts came from. She said though, that I was a miracle baby. That I was meant to be born dead but was blessed with life and that I was given a gift. That's what she called my abilities, a gift." Kira explained. "Beyond that... I was too young to put together the pieces, or perhaps too naive because I never asked further even though... I thought she had just been exaggerating." Kira looked away with a frown in thought. Had her mother really kept such a shameful secret to herself? Did her father ever know? "I... don't know exactly how long I was gone. I wasn't able to see the sun rise and set every day. But based on my tally marks, I estimate I'd been gone for..." She thought hard to remember. "Maybe ten or more years. As for my captivity... it was strange. I wasn't always in his laboratory or... whatever it was. Sometimes I was in this other place too... anyway." Kira shook her head to bring herself out of the tangent. "I was supposed to practice this wood style jutsu. I guess it was part of what he experimented on me with when I was... well, whenever that was. But I couldn't. I could only conjure plants. I guess he thought that was curious or maybe he wanted to see if eventually I could do what he wanted anyway, but in any case, he gave me a Venus fly trap plant to practice on as well as several other plants but the point is, I was able to imbue my chakra into that Venus fly trap and over time he grew and grew and it was very difficult to hide him so he stayed underground after a while. Eventually, Taberu–that's his name– grew big enough to dig underneath us and make a tunnel for me to escape in the middle of the night." After she'd bowed, she sat up proper after hearing her scolding. "Yes, I remember." She said, her voice steady yet gentle like a summer breeze. "But weakness was the only thing that kept a piece of who I was before I was taken, otherwise... I'd be someone else, or a husk of myself. I'm no longer a Konoha shinobi, but I am still strong enough to have survived and soft enough not to hold on to any bitterness or regret I might have had. It doesn't work for everyone but... it has for me, and I've gotten this far, right?" She said with a soft, somewhat sad smile. "As for if he's still looking for me... I don't know... maybe. That would probably depend on whether or not he ever found a better vessel than I. Which is, unfortunately for me, unlikely." Kira said so not because she wasn't humble, but because her abilities were such a fluke that she found it unlikely he would have started the lengthy process to try it again when he already had one out and about.

He wouldn’t take her word for it. People said a lot of things but if it came down to living or dying previous words and promises did not mean a lot. Time would tell. Anyway he did not expect anyone to sit idle waiting for a death strike. Running or fighting were natural responses and she was absolutely in her right to try either or both.

Kakashi watched her face change. Her surprise seemed genuine. If she truly had not known and there were no other issues with her parents her motive for killing them had just vanished into thin air.

“That benefactor would have been Orochimaru then” he said. Also it apparently had not exactly been a gift. There definitely had been a price.

Now that sure sounded fantastical. However Kakashi had seen a lot of very weird shit in his life. A Venus fly trap playing digger was possibly not even the oddest thing he had come across.

“Where is it? Taberu” he asked.

The side note mentioning of Orochimaru wanting her to practise the wood style jutsu was maybe the best proof she had offered yet that she had indeed been taken. It was definitely not common knowledge that the Sannin had tried to revive the wood style jutsu.

He got what she wanted to say. The wording was perhaps a little clumsy considering who she was talking to. It made him smile with amusement. Arching one eye brow he turned to look at her.

“Did you just call me bitter?”

Considering that every Shinobi was ‘encouraged’ to quench weakness, ANBU most of all, she kind of had by saying that keeping her weakness to a certain degree had kept her from turning bitter and probably going down a darker path. It definitely had been indirectly and surely not intentional. Since Kakashi took a very weird pleasure in pushing buttons (Tenzō kept complaining about this habit) he could not let the opportunity go.

“Well he is out looking for new vessels constantly. It’s his most favourite hobby I guess. Does not mean he has found someone else or even if he has he still might want to take you as an interim host.”

Who knew really what was going on in that head.

“You did not reply the question about your parents. How was your relationship with them before they were murdered?” he asked.

She could have left that one out deliberately or by accident. For now he was thinking by accident. He had thrown a lot of questions into her face about a time that sure was very painful to her.

There was something else though.

“Do you want to come back? Being a Shinobi again? Civilian? If what you said is true you do have quite the reasons to grudge Konoha.” Like many. Kakashi himself being one of them actually.

A Mission for the Lost - RP

@009720kakashi

Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood up from his seated position behind his desk after he’d summoned the ANBU Captain Hatake, Kakashi to his office. Walking around to the front of the desk, he looked over to the door to ensure that it was shut from any prying eyes or ears before he spoke.

“I regret that I don’t have more time to check in with you, considering all that you do for the village, but I have a pressing mission that I can only entrust to you. This is a S-rank mission and yet I can only send you alone, which I will explain in a moment.” He said, sighing for a moment as he looked towards the window, which was closed off with blinds, then he looked back at the masked shinobi.

“I’ve kept information about this individual to a minimum thus far, but as new revelations have surfaced, I cannot allow their rot to spread into our village and endanger our people now knowing what form it takes. You are being tasked with the retrieval of a woman named Kitsune Kira. I will give you a picture of her likeness, although our only reference is from when she was just a child, in which she always wore a mask and cloak. Her eyes will likely be the most telling feature if you come across her.” Sarutobi explained, now handing the scroll of information to Kakashi, and the picture along with it. In said picture, was a nervous looking girl, clasping her small hands together in front of her with bright blue eyes and a short ponytail kept high with bangs framing her face despite a slate grey mask covering half of it and her hood hiding much of her hair besides a few clues of the style she wore.

“I assume you don’t remember her, but she attended academy during your years there as well.” Sarutobi didn’t go much more into detail on that topic, knowing it would likely not matter anyway. Instead, he continued on with the intel.

“It was long suspected that she murdered her parents before abandoning the Leaf Village at the age of nine. Suspected, though not confirmed. Considering she had not been heard or seen again, even after several tracking-nin were sent after her, I thought it might be possible that she ran off and took her own life after finding her parents dead. That is, until recent reports were brought forth. I didn’t know her well, but from the word of her teammates and squad leader, she was a gentle girl.” Sarutobi said, recalling the many testimonies to vouch for her, only to slowly turn into rumors instead when enough time had passed. “You are the first one to know this besides myself and a select few others, but her abilities of regeneration were the result of an experiment conducted by Orochimaru with her mother’s approval when she was not yet born. In theory, Kira is a living anomaly, as she was not expected to survive long enough to be born alive. The only prevailing theory about why she might have done such a heinous thing is that it’s possible Kira found out about the nature of her existence and something inside her broke.” As Sarutobi paused his speech, the air weighed heavy before he continued his briefing. “The woman is clever, if rumors prove true. Therefore, I do not want to send out a squad, it will attract too much attention. Not just that, but you’re one of the best tracking ninja the ANBU has, so I feel as though sending you alone should be enough to finish this.” He said, but there was a hesitance in his eyes as he was about to say his next statement, but it disappeared a moment later as he looked at the masked ninja.

“I need you to track down this ghost of Konoha’s past and put an end to it. I prefer that you bring her back alive once you find her, but if that proves to be an impossibility, then I will need you to bring back her body instead.” After a pause, he continued. “You may set out as soon as you are ready.”

#libraryofeverything #kira kitsune #hatake kakashi #no problem at all!#always take the time you need #I hope I remembered the stuff with the wood style jutsu correctly it has been some time since I watched the episodes #If you ever notice cannon mistakes or if I get something wrong always feel free to just tell me :)

67 notes · View notes

kookiecrumb · 3 years ago

Note

*jumps in * helloo there!! i read you jk brother's bestfriend smut and it was sooo good !! can u pls write a tae version ?? it doesn't have to be similar, only thing is tae should be my bbf !! thank you so much!! 💝🎈

KTH || The BBF

header by: @jjkeverlast

a/n: I'm proud to announce that I'll be making this a series with all the members. Next will be Park Jimin.

Definition: Brother's Best Friend.

After you broke up with your ex, something that started as a joke between Taehyung and Jungkook has the potential to become a sexy reality.

tags: pure smut. (18+)

warnings: bigdick!taehyung, exhibitionism, blowjobs/throatfucking, innocent!reader, unprotected sex*(don't do this), the word k*ll, praise kink, sneaky linking, reader has to keep quiet because her brother's next door, brother!jungkook

@koobsessed @kooliv @carolynanderson @angelwonie @justjefinner

It started as a joke. One day during sophomore lunch, the idea conjured itself in Taehyung's head. He was bored and he wanted to get a reaction out of Jungkook, so he started an ongoing joke that he was going to fuck his sister.

Of course it was all for shits and giggles at first, but you got all hot about a year ago. Suddenly, he couldn't keep it in his pants.

Still, he kept up with the gag throughout the years because Jeon's reaction was always too priceless to let up.

"Is your sister still with that clown of a boyfriend of hers?" Taehyung abruptly asks during one of their video game sessions, on voice chat.

Your brother glances back at you. He's thankful for his noise-cancelling headphones, ensuring that you heard absolutely zero part of that.

You're just watching him play on the bed.

He rolls his eyes. When he's certain you're not listening, he mumbles,"No, they actually broke up this weekend."

A smirk spreads on Taehyung's face as he grips his remote control a little harder. "Is that right? You know what that means, Jeon? I'm going to fuck your sister."

Jungkook shakes his head, concentrating on his next killshot, only slightly pissed at Taehyung's comment. "Whatever man. That stopped being funny in eleventh grade."

"What did?" You speak up, interjecting the conversation.

"Nothing. Taehyung's being a dumbass."

"Oh, okay," you dismiss, quietly returning to casually copying down your organic chemistry notes. It's such a comfortable night today.

It's not terribly dry or humid out, but it is warm, so your clothing is somewhat scarce. It feels unnecessary to overdress in such weather.

You don't have the energy to overthink your older brother's banter.

In fact, you're getting kind of sleepy. You reach over the bed for a glass of ice water.

"Ugh, fuck!" Jungkook exclaims. You jolt, causing you to spill at least half the glass on your hand. This infuriates you.

"Hey, stupid! What the fuck?!" You scream.

Jungkook releases one ear of his headphones, unbothered. "Either get used to me being loud or leave," he says, not once looking away from the glowing screen of his television.

You let out an annoyed grunt and gather your study materials and head out the door. You didn't want to watch him play Overwatch for the millionth time anyway.

Jungkook clicks his tongue and smiles. He's successfully gotten rid of you. Now he can continue his game in peace.

"What the fuck? You made her leave?" Taehyung immediately complains.

"Uhh, yeah. Why do you care? She was distracting us from the mission either way," he justifies.

Taehyung disconnects from the voice chat and logs off for the night. Five minutes later, Jungkook receives a direct message explaining that he needed to "get some sleep."

Much to Taehyung's delight, he bought it.

His true intentions for the night had yet to unfold.

After an hour of just doing assignments, you're about to call it a night. It's too early to fall asleep, though, so you're about to turn on some music and catch up on your latest read. You're right in the middle of a juicy scene taking place in nineteenth century England.

Out of the blue, your phone starts vibrating wildly. You shuffle your hands over the sheets in search of it.

Finally, you find it and answer it without taking a second look to see who it was from. "Hello?"

"I heard you're done with that piece of shit," Taehyung answers.

"...Uhm, yeah. It was a mutual decision, actually. Tae, why are you calling me this late?" You pivot.

He doesn't sweat it. "I know the way you look at me whenever we go out. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Taehyung leans back in his car seat, bringing his hips forward. He has always been assertive, so this attitude comes as no surprise to you. Something you don't know is that he's pulled up to the driveway.

"So what? It's not like we're even fucking."

"Would you like to be?" He asks.

"Tae, what?" You smile in disbelief.

"Your ex never liked the way I looked at you. If you want to prove to him that you've moved on, how about we link up? Right now."

Tempting.

Since freshman year, Taehyung had always come off as the aloof type. He didn't say much outside of his friend group and largely kept to himself. That is, until you got a boyfriend.

His stares got longer. His body tensed around the both of you together, especially when your ex showed you any sort of affection. It made you suspicious of his intentions toward you.

You looked back, your eyes seductive and open to him, as if tempting him to rip you from your then boyfriend's arms and place you on his chest. It was no secret you needed him, too.

"Where are you?" You search out the window, looking for any sign that he's nearby. "You need to sneak in before my brother sees or else he's going to kill you."

"I know. Don't you worry about it. I'm a smart man," he says before he hangs up the phone.

Moments later, there's a knock at your window. Taehyung gestures for you to open it as wide as you can. So, you kneel on the bed and sneak him in as swiftly as possible, without raising suspicion.

"What the fuck, how did you get here?" You whisper-yell.

"Drove," Taehyung pants, sitting with his legs crossed, across from you. He takes his shoes off and places them at the foot of the bed.

He leans back on his palms and smirks.

"You're parked in the driveway?" You ask, a bit calmer.

"Yes, so don't worry about it. Chill…" Taehyung glances over at your closed bedroom door. "He's still awake?" He gestures towards it.

"Yeah…last time I checked," you reply.

"That means we need to be super quiet…and super quick," he instructs you, gazing straight into your eyes. Excitement fills them.

The adrenaline hits and the realization of what you're about to do sinks in. Your cheeks get hot in anticipation. You're utterly embarrassed.

He notices. The last thing Taehyung wants is to make you uncomfortable. "Whoa…" he lulls, leaning forward to hold your face in his big hands. "We don't have to rush it, either," he reminds you.

You nod against it, smiling softly.

"Do you need me to strip first?" He asks, his eyes wide and reassuring. They comforted yours like no other and you felt a massive amount of guilt for it. How could something so taboo feel so good?

"Could you?" You affirm.

So, Taehyung carefully begins revealing more and more of his skin in the dark of your moonlit room. His shirt is peeled from his torso to reveal his chest, his stomach, and his arms. A silver necklace with a charm hangs from his neck. It is a white tiger.

He moves his hands down his torso and settles on his jean button, tugging it open. "Come help me with this," he sighs.

You come forward and quietly unzip him, your hands resting on your thighs. "That's a good girl," he hums, flexing beneath your touch.

He's so warm beneath you. It's impossible to resist mouthing at his tenting erection as soon as it's visible. You tug his pants down to his hips and immediately spread your tongue on his clothed cock, lifting your hips off the bed.

"Mmm," you breathe, your eyes lifting up to watch Taehyung's pleased expression.

"Don't be shy with it," he reminds, "I need your mouth." He shifts beneath you, his hands caressing your back.

You lift the strap of his boxers and attach your mouth to the tip of his cock. Taehyung groans softly in relief. He's so satisfying to feel on your tongue, the girth and warmth of his dick is utterly addictive.

"Look at you," he lifts your face up, his hooded eyes filled with insatiable lust. "I could fuck your throat raw to keep you silent."

You feel your cunt twitch at the thought. His dick is so big. Your poor throat couldn't possibly be fucked raw by him, but your imagination runs with the idea. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you sink down on his dick, hollowing your cheeks as you swallow him.

You breathe in through your nose, allowing his hands to guide your mouth on his dick as he languidly thrusts into your heat. Taehyung bites his lips to keep from any noise escaping him.

"Mmn, mmn, mmmgh," deep, honey-like moans vibrate from his throat. You spread your legs father, your panties are now soaked and you can feel it.

You bring your fingers down to split your folds apart as you finger yourself to the pace he's pounding into your tight mouth.

"You're wet from sucking my dick," Taehyung groans. "That cunt is mine…"

You pull off his dick and sit up, peeling your nightgown from your body and kneeling before him with your thighs spread apart. "Take it," you beg.

Taehyung's eyes fall on your breasts and then to your supple lips before settling on your pussy. He throws his pants on the other side of the room and leaps on top of you, pinning you to the bed.

"Don't make a sound," he demands, his knees prying your legs open. His thumb catches the cloth separating your cunt from him and pulls it off of you.

Taehyung presses his body to yours, attaching his mouth to your neck and sucking hard. You gasp sharply, "Tae~"

He hushes you and readjusts himself so that his shaft is flush against your drenched cunt. "If he hears us, we're both dead,"

You comply, your hands scratching his back lightly in pure bliss. "I won't, we won't, just get inside me," you whine.

He grinds himself against you, gripping your inner thighs so that you keep from squirming. "Such a needy little thing," he remarks. "I do it so much better than him."

The stretch is incredible. You miraculously are able to accomodate for such a big cock. Your cunt is filled with him up to your cervix, your clit throbbing for his touch.

Taehyung touches you with fumbling hands, his mind racing with need. He thrusts up experimentally, hungrily. You whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut.

He kisses your lips, encouraging you to hold on to him harder as he rocks the bed with his hips.

"Taehyung~" You bury your face into his chest and he smiles, kissing at your cheek.

The thrill in the pit of your stomach builds indefinitely. You're on the brink of a mind-spinning orgasm and by the feel of it, so is he.

You flinch, convulsing around him as pleasure erupts from your body. He cums hard inside of you, his body stuttering over yours, his lips clashing into yours.

The lights flicker outside of the bedroom. You both sit up, alarmed. He reaches over to his clothes. "I won't go until I've helped you clean," he says, keeping his eyes on the door.

He stays for a while, carefully cleaning you and holding you before he says he needs to go. "Your brother's gonna get suspicious," he adds.

He's right. Minutes after Taehyung leaves, Jungkook comes storming into your room with a suspicious look on his face. "What are you looking for?" You ask, rolling your eyes at him.

"...Nothing, I guess…" he mumbles, scanning the floor one more time before closing the door back up again.

Your panties are missing. Weird.

BONUS:

Jungkook is hanging out at Tae's, playing video games, a week after you two hooked up and he notices a peculiar item in his laundry basket.

"Is that…" Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "That's not…Y/N's, is it?"

Taehyung doesn't respond, smirking with his eyes fixed on the game.

"Tae. Taehyung," Jungkook presses him, shoving him lightly. Taehyung doesn't budge. Instead, he just smiles.

Jungkook is alarmed by his lack of response. "Noooo…" he says in disbelief.

"Yesss…" Taehyung finally replies.

"You are so dead."

2K notes · View notes

literallydontlook · 3 years ago

Text

Things could be different

Pairing: Captain Rex x f!reader

Rating: Mature/explicit (a lemon, if you’ve also been transported back to 2003, so no minors)

WC: 4k+

Warnings: pining and smut, unprotected PiV, oral (m receiving), fingering

Summary: Post-Saleucami Rex gets what he wants.

A/N: Y’all. Apparently your girl your girl wrote something. Listen, day dreaming about Rex, jotting down notes on my phone and thinking of reasons to buy this dress is a lot more accessible around nonstop family time than drawing smut, so here we are. I’m in as much disbelief as you. You can imagine whatever hot-ass outfit would make you look sexy AF but this is what I’m imagining. Did my best to make reader inclusive but if there’s something I screwed up on that front, please let me know!

Part 2 >

—

Rex really doesn’t want to spend his evening at 79s but Cody had somehow convinced him to help babysit keep the 501st and 212th in line. It’s too hot outside to be in a room that packed and he’s *tired*. The return from Saleucami left him with a blaster shot to the chest and his head swimming with confusing, selfish ideas about his purpose as a soldier and his worth as a person — Couldn’t he have one full night’s sleep to himself?

A familiar voice grumbling and swearing close by interrupts his spiraling internal turmoil, but he thinks he’s imagined it. Quickly looking around, he confirms the reality of your presence and Rex’s heart nearly beats out of his chest.

You’re standing in front of a restaurant angrily mashing the buttons on your commlink in a dress just barely skimming the middle of your thighs, shimmer silk cut to tantalize your best features. He’s always thought you were well dressed in professional settings, and Maker knows he thinks you’re beautiful, but he’s never seen you like this before. Even while indulging himself in the privacy of a deserted shower, imagining the feeling of your bare legs tangled with his or your lips wrapped around his cock, his own debauched fantasies never conjured up a picture of you looking this stunning.

It’s already been months - maybe even a whole year since Rex first started pining after you. He isn’t stupid and General Skywalker isn’t as sneaky as he thinks. There’s no reason a Jedi knight needs to meet with a senator this many times in a week, but Rex finds that their trips to the senate building coincidentally end in Padme’s office 90% of the time. And that’s how he first meets you: accompanying the general as he barges into your completely legitimate meeting with the senator to deliver an “important message from the council”. You looked a little peeved, but the senator - graceful as ever - took the interruption in stride, smoothly introducing you to the two men before asking for a private moment with the general.

Exiled behind closed doors, Rex apologized on behalf of his friend expecting a condescending lecture about respect typical of staff working in the senate building. He was surprised when you instead criticized his babysitting abilities. As if he exercised any control over the general - a karking Jedi.

“You can’t let him come by five times a week you know - he’s not subtle and they’re going to get caught.”

Rex huffed out something between a laugh and a scoff when you met his surprised look with an impish smirk, eyes sparkling mischievously. You broke the ice so casually Rex didnt even realize he was traveling the path forged through the broken, melting shards. He had never enjoyed such easy-flowing conversation or friendly banter with a civilian before, but your aura pulsed in time with his, glowing with a warmth that drew him in like an Alderaanian flare-wing to a flame. You were genuinely curious about Rex’s experiences as a clone trooper, but more importantly as a person. The earnestness of your questioning encouraged him to share stories from his time as a cadet and cherished moments with his brothers that not even the general knew about. You were so engrossed, laughing uncontrollably at a story about his first catastrophic day of jet pack training with Cody, that Rex was unable to reciprocate with his own questions before General Skywalker was collecting him to return to base.

After that first introduction, it turned out Rex had plenty of opportunities to ask about your role as Senator Amidala’s press manager and learn about your surprisingly privileged upbringing on Coruscant whenever he was planet-side. He could see how you were drawn to Padme’s politics and admired your duty to the galactic community - to use your skills, connections, and financial resources to help make life better for everyone, not just the Corusanti elite. Accompanying General Skywalker’s frequent trips to the senator’s office on “official Jedi business” afforded him plenty of these chance encounters and he began looking forward to meetings at the Senate building.

By the time Rex realized he was actively finding excuses to end up at the senator’s office with hopes of an accidental encounter, his cadet’s crush had fully evolved into something much more serious.

It was at a group interview and photoshoot you’d organized with the Coruscant News Network that Rex’s vode began raising eyebrows and shooting each other knowing grins. Padme’s proposed new bill granting clones personhood needed an emotional appeal - a way for the public to connect to the troopers’ humanity — so your friendship with Captain Rex and Padme’s close “working” relationship with General Skywalker made it only logical to conscript some men from the 501st to the cause.

Rex isn’t much of a Sabaac player and his soft heart radiated so warmly in your presence that if the way he so easily conversed with you didn’t betray his newly self-admitted feelings, anyone could see the adoration in his lingering gaze and stolen glances.

And this is where his problems began. Rex had hoped to keep this forbidden treasure for himself, hiding you away in his dreams to visit while off planet or in quiet moments of solitude. As a loyal Republic soldier, he’d accepted that his kind aren’t permitted to form romantic relationships with nat borns, but he figured that he could allow himself this one small luxury - one secret, unrequited crush to admire from afar, the memories of who he could use to fuel not just erotic but domestic fantasies in private. Rex had convinced himself that he could toe this line because his feelings only existed hypothetically, in a place that could be buried underground and denied if he were ever questioned. But as soon as his brothers had caught on, his secret was unearthed and he was unable to deny the reality of those feelings solidifying and knocking him on his ass: He was hopelessly smitten and Torrent company wasn’t going to let this go.

Despite the non-stop teasing, the boys were truly happy to see their by-the-books captain show some interest in someone and Fives in particular had made it his personal mission to get Rex laid.

“None of us would report you for asking her out you know.”

Rex stiffened. This was the first time any of his vode had addressed the issue so straightforwardly and even though he did his best to project a professional neutrality, the way he couldn’t meet Fives’ eyes betrayed the intense sense of longing he felt in his heart.

“Senator Amidala’s press manager and I are nothing more than friends. Our duty is to the Republic and anything that could jeopardize our loyalty to the GAR is tantamount to treason.”

But that was before Saleucami. And now…now Rex doesn’t know where he stands.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on this because you’ve suddenly looked up from your commlink, eyebrows still knit and lips in a pout but karking hells, your face actually lights up when you spot him.

“Well well well - look what the tooka dragged in. Fancy seeing you here, Captain.” You love addressing Rex by his rank in mock formality, and he always plays along. In the past, he’s thought briefly, hoped, that the playful way you banter with him could be flirting, that the look in your eyes might mean you feel something for him too. Not that he would or should do anything about it.

“Where are you headed this fine evening?”

Rex huffs out a laugh as he approaches, “I’d hardly call it a ‘fine’ evening — you looked ready to kill a man.”

You cross your arms while averting your gaze. “Yeah, well you’d be mad too if your date left you waiting for over an hour.”

Oh.

Something in Rex’s stomach drops and he visibly deflates; any small flicker of hope he’d ever dared to entertain snuffed out in a moment. Of course you’re seeing someone — of course. And the di’kut apparently doesn’t know what he has because Rex would never take your time and company for granted. He feels indignant on your behalf.

“Well then with all due respect, ma’am —he’s an idiot.”

You can’t help but laugh at the conviction with which he declares this and Rex can’t help the little swell of pride that makes his chest puff — that he was the one to bring you some happiness this evening. He flashes you a lopsided grin.

“I’m never going on a blind date again,” you chuckle while looking away in silent consideration, worrying your lower lip between your teeth before shyly asking, “Have…have you had dinner yet?”

With those two sentences Rex can feel his spirits lift, a little spark lighting the torch he’s been carrying for you. You’re not really seeing anyone, and what’s more, you’re sort of asking him on a date?

“Ma’am? Are you… asking me out?” He asks playfully, hoping you wouldn’t sense the desire burning within him.

Rex knows he shouldn’t even be entertaining this. He knows it’s against regulation, but fuck did seeing Cut with a family awaken new possibilities for him.

You smile at him with a look that’s both coy and uncertain and Rex can’t believe the next words out of your mouth.

“I guess that depends on what your answer is.”

—

You hadn’t been working with Padme for long before you met the handsome captain, moments after his Jedi barged into your meeting unannounced. Rex had the decency to look sheepish as he apologized later in the hallway and you couldn’t help but think he was cute. It’s not often you click with new people, but you could feel a chemistry with Rex as soon as he huffed out a laugh at your stupid joke.

It only took three more chance encounters in her office and a few of your less-than-subtle questions about him before Padme figured out your feelings towards Rex. You were both obviously aware of the restrictions surrounding romantic entanglements with clones, but the senator, herself in a secret, forbidden marriage, isn’t one to let regulation stand in the way of love — not that I love him, you thought to yourself (that would be insane - you barely know the man) but you think that you could.

Padme approached matchmaking like she did politics: with diplomatic strategy. In short, she was the ultimate wingwoman. Somehow, Rex and Anakin’s interruptions became even more frequent after she gently confronted you about your crush and her private conversations with the general seemed to last a little longer, leaving you and the trooper alone to socialize.

While you were beginning to gain some confidence that the captain may return your interest, you were nervous to make a move because of the highly illegal nature of such a proposition. Even with Padme’s help and encouragement, Rex was a well respected, loyal trooper and you weren’t confident he’d be willing to risk his rank and life for…what - a date? After several months, Anakin had been able to gather pretty definitive evidence that Rex had no intention of crossing that line.

Padme was the one to deliver the news and you did your best to keep the disappointment and hurt from your face.

“Why don’t I set you up? I know Senator Clovis has a few friends that you’d like,” Padme had gently suggested. “You’ll forget all about Rex after a few fun nights out.”

Five failed dates later and you found yourself being stood up by a senatorial aid in front of a swanky restaurant feeling one part humiliated and one part irate.

And then he was there - helmetless but dressed in full armor - and you couldn’t help how the sight of him made your heart flip flop in your chest. You’re not sure what gave you the courage to finally make a move but something about his energy was different tonight.

“Have…have you had dinner yet?”

—

“I’m sorry but this…this is disgusting.”

Rex looks truly repulsed as he stares at the slop on his plate before finally pushing it away. Not many respectable establishments on the surface serve clones so you’d opted to order in. Unfortunately there was a mix up at the restaurant and you ended up with someone else’s food. They had terrible taste.

“I’m never letting you pick the restaurant ever again,” you tease while setting aside your plate and turning your body towards Rex. What started out as a rotten evening was turning out to be one of the most fun nights you’d had in awhile. After the initial awkwardness of navigating being on a “date”, the two of you slipped back into your familiar, playful dynamic. Rex was as kind and considerate as always and you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he is. He had stripped down to his blacks after entering your apartment and Maker did he look good.

He pauses before turning to face you, his arm bent, resting over the back of the couch “…’again’ huh?”

Rex had meant for it to come out more playful but his voice betrayed the hope and longing gripping his heart.

You would normally fire back with something witty and flirtatious but you’re just now realizing how close he’s sitting to you. The energy between you has suddenly shifted; what was friendly and comfortable now felt charged with possibility, the air electric. Your mouth feels too dry and you swallow thickly before managing to nod once.

“Yeah…Again.” You breathe.

The seconds seem to stagnate, stretching to impossible lengths as he leans in slowly and licks his lips, eyes darting down towards yours before meeting your gaze again.

“Can I - can I kiss you?”

And just like that, the heat building between the two of you over the last year boils over and rushes straight to your core. You crash your lips into his and he snakes a hand around your waist while the other grips the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands rove the firm planes of his chest, traveling over his broad shoulders and then up behind his neck before scratching your nails over his scalp. He moans into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine and another flood of warmth to your center.

He chases your lips as you pull away momentarily to straddle his hips. Rex’s pupils are blown wide with lust as he cups your face and pulls you into another bruising kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth, hands moving to squeeze your waist and bunch the silky fabric in his fists. You breathe a desperate whine when he breaks away and you know you should feel pathetic, whimpering as he kisses down your neck and sucks a mark at the base, but your body is on fire and burning too hot to care. He pauses his lips above the dip between your breasts, eyes glancing up to you for permission.

“Is this ok?” He asks while rubbing soothing circles into your waist. Maker he’s so cute, you think.

“Yes,” you breathe, “you can touch me anywhere.”

Rex palms at your tits, swiping the pads of his thumbs over your pebbled nipples before pulling down the front of your dress and sucking a sensitive bud into his mouth and releasing it with a lewd pop. Your back arches as you grind yourself over his hardening bulge, whimpering for more.

“F-fuck I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls into your jaw as his hands travel the length of your thighs, sliding under the hem of your dress and bunching it up around your waist as he gropes the plush of your ass, fingers moving to tease the band of your panties.

You cup his jaw in your hands, tilt his face up towards yours and, pressing your forehead to his you whisper, “then have me.” His cock twitches as he takes you in — kiss bruised lips smeared with lipstick are parted, chest heaving, breasts exposed and heavy lidded eyes leave you looking completely debauched. You’re a vision plucked straight from his dreams and Rex reaches cautiously, hands trembling — as if any sudden movements could cause him to wake in his bunk, alone and painfully hard — to unzip your dress. And when you’re finally bare before him his breath hitches.

You lean forward, nipping at his ear and whisper, “Take me to bed, captain.”

Rex completely short circuits. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. He can’t believe you’re real. Maybe he actually died from that blaster wound on Saleucami and he’s gone to some paradise in the afterlife. Somehow he finds the wherewithal to grip under your thighs and lift you, standing as you mouth at his jaw.

Your apartment is small so Rex finds the bed room easily. He tosses you gently onto the bed and he pulls the top of his blacks over his head. Your eyes widen. It’s not like you didn’t know he’d have a body like this; after all, he’s basically a genetically modified super soldier and Maker knows you’ve fantasized about it. But you’re still shocked into an awestruck silence when you actually see him. Rex is built like a god — defined upper body, corded muscles under golden skin begging to be touched. You watch with bated breath as he peels off his bottoms, freeing his stiff cock and for the first time you thank the Kaminoans because fuck — he’s huge.

You must have been staring because he’s stopped undressing, eyes worried and eyebrows knit. He self consciously looks down at himself and back to you.

“Uh…is th – am I not what you expected?” He asks and the hurt that flashes in his eyes breaks your heart.

“What? No! I mean fuck, Rex,” you stammer out as you rise up to your knees and run your hand down his chest and over his abdomen appreciatively, “Maker, you’re just… you’re way hotter than I imagined,” you admit with a nervous chuckle. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, sinking back down until your face is level with his cock. You wrap a hand around the base and lick a stripe up the underside and Rex struggles to control his breathing. Without breaking eye contact, you take him into your mouth, swiping your tongue over the bead of precum leaking from the tip and his hands fly to grip the back of your head as he throws his head back and groans.

“F-fuck.”

You could get addicted to this kind of power. Rex, venerable clone captain of the 501st, falling apart and trembling because of your mouth. You take him in further until he’s touching the back of your throat and your nose brushes against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. You can feel him tensing and fisting your hair as he struggles not to buck into your mouth. Breathing through your nose you gag on his length before pulling off to replace your mouth with your hand and stroke him languidly.

“Maker — Fuck. C’mere,” he grits out while pulling you up into another searing kiss. Rex’s hands desperately roam your body, groping and feeling and squeezing, pushing you down gently to lay on your back as he crawls over you. He slides one hand down to your center and runs a finger through your folds.

“You’re so wet.” Rex moans appreciatively as he swipes a finger over your clit.

“Yes,” you whimper into his mouth, “All ‘cause of you. I want you so bad, Rex.”

He pushes two fingers into your hole and the stretch has you throbbing with need and sets your nerve endings alight. As he pumps in and out, you slip a hand down to rub tight circles over your clit.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as he adds a third finger, “you can come for me like this, yeah?”

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to your climax but you don’t want it to end yet. “Rex please — I want you…. I wanna feel you inside me,” you moan pathetically.

“Just give me one. Just give me one like this and you can have whatever you want.” He grits out and with that, he curls his fingers, hitting that spot that makes you scream. Your vision goes white and you fist the sheets as Rex fucks you through your orgasm, his fingers now dripping with your release. And when you finally come down from your high, panting and boneless, he crawls up onto the bed to kiss you sweetly, cupping your cheek in his hand and gently caressing the skin with his thumb. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes with an awe-struck look that melts your heart.

You huff out an incredulous laugh. “Wow,” you breath. Rex responds with a dopey, crooked smile and you reach out to cup his face in your hands. “Fuck me, Rex.”

His eyes darken before he crashes his lips to yours, tongue swiping into your mouth as he reaches down to blindly notch himself at your entrance and push in slowly. You can feel every ridge and vein as he breeches your tight walls and you both groan in unison when he’s buried to the hilt. You wrap your legs around him and dig your heels into his ass, begging for him to move.

You’d normally like to be fucked fast and rough but there’s something about the slow, deep way Rex thrusts into you that feels reverential, like you’re a goddess and he’s worshipping at your altar. The feeling clouds your mind and sparks something deep inside and when he threads his fingers through yours you feel like your heart could burst out of your chest. He kisses along your jaw and babbles incoherently into your ear.

“Th-think about you all the time.”

“F-fuck, mesh’la.”

“Feel better than I imagined.”

He picks up his pace, grinding into you when his hips meet yours. You never thought such vanilla sex could feel so mind meltingly good but the new pace he’s set, the way his coarse hairs rub against your clit, and his mumbled confessions send you to another plane of existence, building and building and building.

“Oh stars, Rex, please don’t stop,” you beg. “I’m so close.” You frantically reach around his back, nails sinking into his skin as the heat building in your core finally ignites and —

“Oh gods Rex, I—FUCK”

You’re sobbing his name as he ruts into you, fucking you through your orgasm and desperately seeking his own release. Your walls grip his cock like a vice and he follows soon after, choking out a strangled moan as he rips himself from your warmth to take himself in hand and cover your breasts in his release.

The moments that follow are quiet. There’s only the sound of your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as you come down from your highs, taking each other in. Your faces are mirrors of incredulity.

Did that actually just happen?

As the fog of lust dissipates, you remember the confessions he moaned into your ear. Could he have feelings for you too? Was any of that true?

You’re at a loss for words, stunned into silence until Rex clears his throat, “Ah uh where can I find —“ he motions at the mess he’s made.

“Oh,” you mentally shake yourself out of your stupor.

“Towels and stuff are in the ‘fresher under the sink,” you say as you prop yourself up on your forearms, “…thanks.”

He’s back in a moment with a warm, damp washcloth, gently wiping away his spend from your chest. His eyes make contact with yours. They’re full of adoration and uncertainty and he opens his mouth to speak just when the sound of his commlink chirps from the other room.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t massively disappointed when he reluctantly left to answer it; you can hear him being called away, an order to return to base immediately.

When he returns to your room, Rex is wearing an expression you can’t read. It’s serious but the way his eyebrows are knit together betrays a sense of…sadness? Regret? Your heart is in your throat. Maybe he’s realized what a massive mistake this was. That he could be court martialed if this progressed any further.

“So you’re being summoned. Duty calls?” You tease, trying to find familiar ground, an attempt to return to your old dynamic and calm your nerves.

“That’s right.” His voice is tight and he nods once in your direction before finding his discarded blacks and redressing. You watch him silently from your bed, admiring the shadowy outline of his muscles rippling in the dim light as he pulls on his top. He pauses for a moment and turns his head to look at you in consideration before walking out of the room. You hear the snaps of claps and the clanking of plastoid as he puts on his armor and briefly consider whether you should get up to see him out when he returns fully dressed. Rex nervously adjusts his vambraces before breaking the silence.

“Can I…see you again?” He asks shyly.

Your chest squeezes and you can’t help the smile that’s plastering your face.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that.” Rex’s face lights up with your acceptance and he thanks the Maker for the scar at the center of his chest, for the near-death experience that led him to Cut. For the Lawquanes. For opening his eyes to look past his programming and showing him that maybe…

Maybe things could be different.

—

Part 2 >

A/N: WOW my respect for fic writers on this hellsite has increased tenfold. Formatting in this editor is a bitch. Why are all the paragraph breaks different sizes? I can’t.

Tagging some Rex sluts: @djarinsbeskar @asta-lily @book-of-baba-fett @djarrex @rowansparrow

#captain rex x female!reader #captain rex x f!reader #captain rex x reader #rex x f!reader #rex x reader

579 notes · View notes