#getting up is gonna be such a pain though I can already feel my spine starting to hurt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nabitsun · 2 months

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SPINE BREAKER

fem! reader x nerdy! choso

᭝ synopsis : who knew you just needed good dick from a nerdy boy to lose that attitude.

᭝ tags: smut & little angst? uni (both in their 20s), reader is kind of a minx but you'll pick that up.. (well, all reader's friends are), oral sex (f), pussyjob, unprotected (pull out game 10/10), uhh sweet choso duh <3

᭝ wc: 11.5k ...

᭝ notes: t'was supposed to be a one-scene typa oneshot but got carried away - blame it on nerdy! choso. (i remixed that shit 4 times)

"shoko.."

"what is it?"

"no need to put these under my nose i've told you, i'm not coming." you slap her hand away gently, she's holding two entries for a random party in town.

"oh but you will." she smiles.

you know you will, you always do.

"c'mon i have two entries? i can't waste them."

"exactly, ask yuki to come with you."

"she also bought two entries, she's already coming with someone else."

you give her a quizzical look,

"i don't know any better, she didn't say."

"she's probably inviting aoi over again, God.. another reason to not come.." you shake your head at the sole thought of the man.

"who's that?" she says, switching up outfits in front of her as she ponders in front of the mirror.

"y'know that meathead eccentric guy who's like, super fan of her,"

"ohh, that one.." she hums in thoughts "mh, i doubt it though. the last time he was here, he didn't leave with that same smug face. if he keeps getting into trouble the way he does, I doubt she'll invite him back."

she's referring to the last time yuki invited aoi to one of these parties, not to sugarcoat anything but he definitely learnt the hard way to not be an arrogant show off.

"i hope not." you mumble

"stop trying to find excuses. you're coming with me, we're gonna have a good time, end of story."

you let out a crude laugh, "let me rephrase. you're gonna have a good time, and i am gonna get bored out of my mind." you can see her roll her eyes, "i don't even see the point of going there."

"because you don't try to have fun."

"if trying to have fun implies rubbing myself on some smelly drunk strangers with shitty ass songs in the background, then yeah i'd rather not try."

"you're no fun, it's not that bad."

"it's not that bad until you reach your fifth drink" you quick back as you cross your arms over your chest as if to withdraw from this endless battle that you know, will defeat you.

"aren't you being a little dramatic, now?" shoko barely looks at you with raised eyebrows. she knows as well as you do that beyond her tolerance limit she's no longer controllable, which is why you've spent many nights taking her home and trying - as best you could - to bring her back safe and sound. she won't admit it though.

you dismiss the (probably) rhetoric question, "since yuki's coming, why do you want me to go so bad?"

"what a silly question." she sighs as if she'd heard a child say the most gullible nonsense, "i like having you around, that is all."

"something is tellin' me you don't wanna end up third wheeling," you sing song.

"shut up.. you're coming anyway." she avoids your stare and lets out a heavy sigh, "you like the blue one?" she twirls the dress on its hanger around and turn over to face you, she tilts her head on the side as if to weight your future answer.

"i like the purple better."

"that's what i was thinking.."

.·:*��༺ ༻¨*:·.

being confided in the car with a loquacious shoko didn't help the growing headache you felt in the back of your skull. it had been a tough week.

your exams were approximately in a week and just thinking about it actively made your head hurt even more, and your throat tightened with culpability.

"hey, don't die on me now." shoko glares at you from the side as she's driving to the house. you feel her checking you multiple times.

"i'm fine," you sigh, rubbing your temples in an attempt to soothes the growing pain – that eventually worsened when shoko suddenly hit the brakes, a bit too abruptly to your liking, at a stop sign.

"girl, you either need a good night sleep or some good dick." she clicks her tongue, "look at you," she emphasizes by shaking her head as if the sole sight was too much for her.

"focus on not getting us crashed already."

"i'm serious though, you want some water?"

"no–no, i told you i'm okay." you look ahead of you, resting your head against the headrest for some support ; flashes of cars and traffic lights interacting in the night, "you drive like shit though."

"wow. okay, you'll show me how much of a good driver you are when you'll drive me back tonight, yeah?" she chuckles, taking a second turn on a new avenue.

"having you drunk in the back of the car is a constant fight of trying to not make you throw everything up, of course i have to drive nicely."

you see your friend nodding as she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, apparently at loss of words.

"mhm, thanks?"

you relax back with a content smile, "i prefer that,"

the house is not so far from your respective apartments, also not far from your university, which is around a fifteen minutes drive.

you can't really be mad at shoko for dragging you to those places ; the kind of places where she often ends up with a grain of lucidity to keep her half upright, while all the rest of her cognition makes her look like a psychotic out of an asylum. and even though you're practically always the one driving her back to her place, it doesn't exclude the fact that you need this sometimes.

despite your complaints of not wanting to go with her – for various reasons that you listed prior, but also because of your upcoming exams that are sucking the energy directly out of you – you still kind of look forward to the evening, if you're being honest. it gives you the opportunity to sit back and suspend the course of time for an evening, as ephemeral as it is.

the car stops at a red light as you think back to shoko's words, back in her room.

"yuki still didn't tell you about her special guest ?" you mindlessly ask as you fix your makeup by looking in the mirror of the sunshade, curling your eyelashes with the edge of your index to fix them.

"nope, i might have an idea though.." she pauses, you don't say anything as you wait for her to continue, "you know that guy she hangs out with sometimes? she's not like always with him but i don't think she'd invite anyone else, knowing her.."

"what guy?" you frown, you close the sunshade to look at her.

"uhh, black hair, pale skin, really quiet too. one of those snobs who behaves like termites by staying in their hole, you know. i don't even think i've ever talked to him, or seen him talk for that matter." she squints her eyes to reminisce old memories but the sudden shift of color on the traffic lights makes her focus back on the road.

"like what? a sorta depressed emo boy or something?" you scoff.

she laughs, out of mockery for your credulity it seems, "pretty close. but he's really.. the nerdy type y'know? the type to sit there and not say a word unless spoken to about some stupid nerdy shit, i guess."

"as long as he doesn't talk about fuckin' uni or something like that tonight, i'm good." you sigh at the thought as you close your eyes, clearly ignoring the silent warnings in her eyes.

"oh girl, you're such a fucking minx."

you ignore her offense when you continue your interview, "why would she invite him though? i mean why would he even come?"

"why did you?"

you keep silent.

"exactly," she states, "now keep your curiosity to yourself, you're about to find out."

after a few bends leading to the far end of town, you then remark the students crowding the lawn, stepping everywhere as some of them walk to the entry of the house.

no wonder you had to pay entries to get to some crackhead student party – you understood when you saw the size of the house and how many people there was. you silently hoped there was no one around as they would probably spend one hell of a night.

"not too far, i don't wanna have to carry you fifty meters tonight." you warn as shoko tries to find a good parking spot.

she sends you a hard glare and mumbles something inaudible that almost sounds like an insult. she seems to comply anyways as she parks not to far from the entry.

you were met with fresh air as you stepped outside the car, the extremities of your skin growing cold as well as your bare legs barely warming up with the strides you were taking. it was only eight in the afternoon and yet, you already saw wobbly people trying to walk their way out of the house. the two of you approach the path leading to the house, hearing the music as it gradually intensifies.

"there," shoko throws the car keys to you as you catch them hardly in your hands, "in case i lose them during the evening, you're in charge." you don't say anything, you'll have to drive back home anyways.

the calm atmosphere of an april evening was replaced without much transition as you walked past the open doors. the lights of the traffic lights now seemed far less stimulating in comparison to the sight in front of you. and paradoxically, your headache had disappeared, making you guess it was indeed, shoko's driving.

shoko turned around and took your hand to lead you through the numerous ponds of people hovering the place, talking, singing, dancing or even making out grossly. your steps grew heavier – whether from the combined heat of everyone weighing down on you or the vibrations of the boosted bass – it felt as if you were clearly reaching the pit of hell, both physically and symbolically.

and you could feel that with every steps forward, requiring the unsolicited touch of people brushing past you. the odors coming on play for less than a few seconds to merge with your own scent, just to disappear as soon as it entered past your nostrils. the lights changing from blue to purple to pink or even red, reflecting on the few skin shoko was showing with her slip dress as she was leading the way.

to say you were getting overstimulated was understandable. it was like getting thrown into a pit with only hungry lions to face; and with that dramatic metaphor you noted that the first lion you'd have to fight tonight, was the woman in front of you.

once you both reached what seemed to be the main saloon – though it was hard to decipher with the ton of people and the lack of furniture, beside some occupied couches. you didn't even know who was hosting the party to be fair, it seemed to change every other week like some sort of competition of who's gonna have the privilege to clean the big mess next morning – although you'd guess they probably have someone to do just that.

you were so focused on the environment you didn't even see the golden shadow passing by when a pair of fingers snapped you out of your illusion.

"you look like it's your first time at the zoo."

by the tone and voice you wouldn't even need to turn around. yuki looks at you with crossed arms in a sleeveless black turtleneck and flare jeans with a hint of a smile – out of friendliness or amusement, you didn't know.

"definitely feels like it," you smile back as you reach out to embrace her, which she welcomes.

"i see, shoko brought you here just to be her cab home then hm?" she tilts her head ignoring the way shoko snapped her head in her direction.

"hey don't say that! i wanted her company t–"

she gets interrupted by a loud noise, not seemingly coming from the music but by someone who just seemed to crash down on a wooden coffee table – one of the furniture you had such a hard time to see apparently because some people decided to stand on it. both girls in front of you roll their eyes almost in sync.

"well, looks like the alcohol's kicking in. you're coming with me?" yuki addresses to shoko and you.

"yeah i need to get something, i don't like how aware i am right now." shoko shakes her head in disapproval of the events.

the three of you approach the kitchen, where all the drinks stand upright and ready to use like weapons of war laid out on a table.

you don't venture into drink design, preferring to leave it to shoko or yuki, who apparently know best what they're doing since they're arguing over whether pineapple or cranberry would be more suitable to mix with vodka. once the ingredients are mixed, you all take a sip to mark the start of your evening.

"ew what the–" your body shudder lightly from disgust as you lower your hand over the counter, "tastes like piss seriously.." you whine and look at the wrongdoer.

"told you pineapple was a bad choice." yuki restates, but she's ignored by shoko, who takes the cup from your hand and pours the contents into her own cup.

"fuckin' alcoholic.." you breathe out in amusement.

"i paid for these, might as well make it worth my while." shoko rejoins and it makes you think..

"hey yuki, talking about entries, where's your guest?"

she takes another sip before answering through the music as she leans over, "he told me he wanted to use the bathroom, he went upstairs i think but.." she looks around, ".. i don't see him around, maybe he's stuck in there or something." she shrugs as if it were the most banal piece of information.

you naturally frown at the answer and at her lack of interest as to where her friend might be, so does shoko as she flicks yuki's forehead – earning an annoyed grunt from her victim.

"you can talk about me, you don't even care about your friend."

"he's a dude girl, if he's staying up there there's a reason. i'm sure he's fine," she shrugs once again with round eyes devoid of any remorse.

as they continue to argue mindlessly you sneak your hand on the counter, gliding it across the surface to grab discreetly yuki's cup, probably much tastier with cranberry, and retrieve it back to walk away and leave them to their incessant vindictive promises.

you're sure when you come back they'll still be on their feet – at least you'd like to put this much faith in them – as you rush through agglutinated people to get past the stairs. you don't really know why you're going, maybe you could say he picked your interest ; the thought of a guy like him in the middle of the evening just reminds you of a lamb around a horde of wolves.

you take a couple more sips from your cup and climb the stairs, squeezing past a heated couple making out in the middle of it. you follow down the corridor to find a multitude of doors, and one at the end of it that would be the perfect prototype of the bathroom at the end of a corridor. once you reach it you lean in to rest your ear against the door, trying to gauge potential noises, but nothing.

you smooth your denim skirt down and readjust your purse on your shoulder. you knock once, then twice – over the music you're practically not able to hear your own knocking – until your press your fingers down on the locker slowly, peeking through the door but you're only welcomed with pitch black.

maybe he just got lost among people, or maybe he was one of the ones you saw vomiting their guts out outside – which is less probable, but not impossible. you don't really feel like acting like a detective and exploring every nook and cranny, for fear of also finding yourself in front of people fucking in one of the rooms, so you prefer to turn back on your heels, giving up on the mission you thought would spark up your evening a little bit.

but it doesn't really go as planned actually. as you walk back towards the stairs, you notice a door open ajar, as if to let in a trickle of air, so you don't pay it much attention, but it's only when you start to look away that you see the previously motionless shadow, move.

it's quite honest to think that it's the first effects of the alcohol that are starting to take effect, a blurry vision in addition to poor lighting – results are not promising. you pause in your steps once more, tightening your fingers around your cup as you tilt your head so that you can look through the doorway without acting too much like a voyeur.

that's when you see him. rather tall figure standing up with the major help of big boots, black trousers with a black shirt – or maybe the colors are tainted by the darkness of the room, barely lit up by an amber light. and you do notice the signature buns with a few strands falling on his forehead.

his movements are so ever delicate you're having a hard time to decipher if the stability of your vision is playing tricks on you, or if it's really the slowness of his movements. one of his hands reaches over the shelf, he grabs a book and opens it. so careless.

"didn't know you were also a creep." you open the door without warning, with your cup in a hand and it makes you think that you probably look like some drunken mess barging in a room.

he drops the book on the ground.

"fuck!" his panicked eyes dart to you, pretty purplish eyes, "i'm sorry— shit. i didn't mean to pry." he picks up the book from the ground, bending his knees to grab it softly.

"if anything, i was the one prying." you comment, entering the room. and.. oh? what a sight you're welcomed with. it's a crime to not have seen this man on campus before – or maybe that's his crime to decide to stay inside his room with such a pretty face. his eyebrows are still brought near the center of his forehead, a faint look of worry that doesn't seem to disperse as the seconds pass.

it's also shoko's crime not to have mentioned the few silver jewels adorning his lips and eyebrows, or the charcoal mark layered upon his nose and spread horizontally along the length, covering both cheeks. and maybe there's another crime to add to your list when his tired eyes look away from you, trying to find some sort of distraction, anywhere but on you.

"i wasn't doing anything, i swear." his voice is coated with the sweetest tones though it's deeper than you'd expected – such a contrast with his face.

"careful, there's no better way to appear guilty than with this sentence." and you swear you can see a light frown on his face. you take a couple more steps towards him, he stands still, the book still in his hand as it's closed and tightly wrapped around his fingers.

you reach for the book lazily, and you take good care to not try any brusque movements. it's like you're walking on thin ice and you just start to realize how quieter it got in the room, with the buzzing of music barely heard and a few people chanting way too far.

he doesn't even try to fight it, the book slips past his fingers easily as you grab it, "The Picture Of Dorian Gray". classic. he looks down at you silently, a bit too long as if he's realized something.

"are you planning to come down?"

he shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting part of his weight on one foot in a slightly awkward manner, "i don't really feel like it."

"why is that?" you put the book right in the empty space, where you guess it previously was, squished between the other books.

"i don't really enjoy.. this." he nods to the door.

"what do you enjoy then?"

he runs his tongue over his piercing, wetting his lips and smothering the silver ring with it in the process as he ponders, then locks eyes with you finally.

"not parties at least."

"mhm, i would've guessed."

the room was strangely not that big compared to the house, a very sober room that must have been for guests, at least no personal decorations were visible. you approached the window to watch the racket outside and you found yourself glad to be upstairs at the sight.

"yuki was getting worried though." you know it's not true, but you're trying your best, you really are.

he turns around to face you, still not moving an inch from his initial position though, "oh so you're one of yuki's friend? the one she said would come?"

"it depends on whether she talked about a little pain in the ass or a cheeky cynic."

"she used the term.. « bothersome minx », if i recall."

you chuckle softly and put your cup down on the windowsill, gliding it on the side as you turn to look at him. he eyes you up and down, tapping his fingers along his thighs and you're not sure if you are in good shape due to the previous consumption or if he's just being the analytical man he's known to be.

"what's your name?"

"choso."

"choso.." you introduce yourself as well, he repeats your name just the same, "wanna sneak out?"

"what do you mean? like right now?"

"yeah, why not? i mean you can stay in that room as long as you want but i doubt you'll have much fun." he turns his head to glance at the door lazily, gauging the proposal.

"what are we gonna do?"

"i don't know, we'll see." you shrug with a smile and you're not sure if playing the russian roulette with him is gonna get you anywhere but you're too interested to play it safe.

"hm, i want to be back for yuki though, she's gonna need a ride home."

"you will." you say simply, but choso raises his eyebrows, waiting for more based arguments rather than a simple affirmation. so you continue,

"we can just take the car, drive for a couple of minutes and you'll be back here before you even notice."

there's a few seconds of silence where you both look at each other, expecting an answer. he sighs, lowering his head and you think he's about to decline your invitation but..

"alright, but just for some time."

you can't help but grin widely, you eagerly dig in your purse for the car keys shoko gave you and take quick steps towards the exit. as you wait for him on the doorstep you see him take a few strides, but towards the windowsill where you previously were standing. he grabs the drink you left dismissively, his jacket on the bed, and throws your empty cup in the bin just in the corner of the room as he walks back towards you.

he smiles gently at you and closes the door behind the two of you.

you practically had to fight your way through the crowd waiting for you downstairs. you thought the hardest part would be getting through to the front door, but once outside you found yourself in a quandary as you had to tiptoe to avoid stepping on any garbage, sticky liquids or dead drunks on the lawn.

choso asked you if you were able to take the wheel, you told him yes, of course – you'd only had one drink that had barely shaken you. he insisted on driving anyway.

the place where you had him taken was one of the only ones not too far away that was still open at this hour; and especially one that didn't look like a crowded bar.

a small café-restaurant run by a woman who was far too old to still be on her feet serving until late at night – but she always did it with too much care that you always resigned yourself to going there, even if the prices were higher.

the car ride had been remotely silent, with only a few instructions as to the routes to take and choso asking you if you wanted to put the heat on.

you took your seats on the colorful banquettes, waiting for the woman to come and take your order. the contrast was quite ironic, seeing you and choso dressed for some fancy evening in a place that was very reminiscent of that kind of little retro restaurant in the 50s, with the famous jukebox playing ballads from Elvis Presley, and the endless greasy hot dogs displayed on the counter.

"didn't think you'd follow a stranger blindly,"

he rests his forearms on the table and bring his eyes back on you as they were occupied scanning the place, "you're no real stranger, you're yuki's friend after all."

"oh i'm sure you were the kinda kid to enter some random white van." you say, more to yourself though as you look at the menu briefly. he doesn't say anything in return, and you don't look up either to see if he's looking at you or not.

"tell me choso," his name is like the ring of a bell, his eyes widen just a little, "how come i've never seen you around? you're on campus right?"

"mhm, i guess," he opens his mouth as if to start a sentence but he soon renounces by closing it immediately, he reaches for his nape to massage it, "i guess i don't really hang out around campus."

"majoring in?"

"computer science."

you would have bet your entire fucking fortune on it. you let a smile slip through.

"um, you're friends with gojo satoru too, right?"

the question definitely surprises you, everyone knows who's satoru, and that's not to his advantage as he's more or so known for being one hell of a jerk. you nod and he takes a deep breath, one that speaks volumes.

"i know what he says about me, you know. i just don't want you to think i'm like that." he admits and the sight almost makes you frown, you don't know if it's pity or empathy but you shake the feeling away.

"what do you think he says about you?"

he pauses for a few seconds, he's quick to bring his hands around his ear piercing, fidgeting with them as he relaxes back against the banquette, he finally crosses his arms over his chest.

"they say things that aren't necessarily wrong but aren't totally true either."

when he says they, he's probably referring to shoko, or maybe suguru if you think about it, though he doesn't seem to care about people's business that much.

you'll blame choso's inability to communicate properly for his ambiguous answers and not because he's trying to pull a series of enigma right now.

"mhm, and don't you think i have a mind of my own?"

his eyes almost pop out of their sockets and he once again leans against the table, clearly not settled on how to sit still, "no–no i didn't mean to say that ! i'm sure you do," he says softly, yet still very much alarmed.

you almost regret your choice of words but he's so goddamn sweet it would be a shame not to tease him a little.

"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me." his fingers fidgets with the salt and pepper shaker in front him.

you know you're in no position to talk, you even feel embarrassed if you're being honest, as you were not just about an hour ago making fun of him in the car with shoko – that, he doesn't know.

the old woman comes back to take both your orders and it's as if the bubble you were both in had just burst, bringing you back to the café as the music gradually came back to your senses. choso orders a strawberry milkshake and you take a blueberry.

the way he talks is so sweet, it makes you physically wince, and let's not talk about the way he looks at the old woman like she was cotton candy to the eye. you think it's all an act he's about to drop when she leaves but, even when she returns behind the counter he returns his eyes on you with the same look ; heavy lids – that you don't know if they are the consequence of a long day or if they're always like that – with shades or purple circling them.

"you'll know that the only time I take satoru's opinion into account is when I have to make a choice for lunch. you're okay." you assure.

he nods slowly and you see his face soften at your reassuring words.

"i don't know why you hang out with them." he says and it's so faint you're not even sure if he mumbled to himself or if he actually talked to you.

you tilt your head on the side with a frown, "what do you mean?"

he takes some time to answer, to gather his words or because he's hesitant you don't really know.

"you were always so nice to me," but you're still puzzled so he continues, "back in high school, you weren't hanging out with this kind of people, y'know."

you don't even pay attention to the way he's not so subtly trying to bring your friends down, you readjust yourself in your seat, visibly confused.

"i don't.. i mean, we were in the same class?"

choso shrugs, not really phased to see you don't remember him at all, "you had a lot of friends. plus, i didn't have these two." he points his finger up to show his hair attached in two buns atop of his head as if it could be the sole reason of your memory lapse. silly.

"i like this look on you. you look nice with them." you say as you look at the hairstyle thoroughly. the praise seemed to have gotten to him because you can see a small smile on his lips as he looks around impatiently for the drinks to arrive – or maybe he just needed to lay his eyes somewhere else than on you.

the drinks arrive shortly after, not surprising due to the lack of customers as it's practically just the two of you there. you don't really say anything much, comfortable in the silence you're both in as you grab your order to taste them. you don't really want to continue the conversation about your friends right now, and choso seems to have dropped the idea of it too.

choso watches you as you lean in to wrap the straw around your lips, elbows on the table to support your body on top. he also watches the way the milkshake climbs up the straw to pour into your mouth, away from prying eyes.

"you want some?"

his blurred eyes meet yours.

"huh?"

you smirk, only because you're enjoying the look on his face and you want it to worsen. you straighten up properly, away from that damn straw and focus on choso, who grows a little embarrassed, somehow – you see it, he backs down a little just at the sight.

"i know what you want," you say, almost above a whisper, stirring the straw with painful slowness.

"you just gotta ask."

choso doesn't say anything. he doesn't really know what to say actually as he flicks his eyes between your eyes and your lips. he's panicked, that's one thing anyone could notice if only they had their attention on him.

"you want a taste, right?" you say with such a languid voice he has to look around to see if you're putting on a show for anyone around, in vain of any spectators. choso raises his eyebrows, devoid of any answers.

"my drink, you idiot."

such a fool, his pouding heart slows back down quietly into his chest and it shows by the prior rapid breaths that are replaced by long and painful sighs. and what a disguised curse to be around you. he doesn't even seem to notice the degrading name he got assigned, you're not even sure he's got to hear the short sentence correctly.

"um.. yeah, sure."

you glide the drink forward on the table until it reaches his fingers which firmly wrap around the glass – and if you were from the police you'd suspect it's to hide his shaking fingers. he puts his own lips where yours once were and begins to sip through the straw. he doesn't have to look up to see you watching intently, he can feel it.

"there you go, how is it?"

"s'good." he nods.

the aroma melts on his tongue, almost sugarcoating the strawberry he previously ingested and the sour taste of a little humiliation.

"i wonder what's going on in that little head of yours. you're so analytical with everything."

"you make me feel like I have to be."

a head tilt from you is all he needs to know he has to develop his thoughts.

"be aware of my surroundings."

your answer gets stuck in the back of your throat when you hear the buzzing of your phone in your purse, you dig it out : a call from shoko.

you excuse yourself and choso simply nods, you bring the phone to your ears and you soon regret the movement as dissonant noises come to deafen your drums – urging you to pull your phone away from your ear.

"h-hey!! where.." the sentence is cut by another voice, and maybe some screams, you don't really know. you squint your eyes as you try to decode the semblance of sentences thrown at you, you call shoko but she doesn't seem to be on the line although the call indicates two minutes past.

choso continues to sip on his milkshake and he looks just as confused as you are.

"where r'you–" you don't need to ask her if she's drunk or not, you can hear it through the slurring of her words. you don't answer her question though, you know it will cause more damage than anything to say you'd preferred to leave the party to go sip on some milkshake with a man you're supposed to despise more than anything.

after five minutes of negotiation, you finally find out what shoko wanted - simple curiosity as to where you were, but also a call for help with the disappearance of choso, who was supposedly trapped in the toilet, according to yuki. you promptly hang up and finish your milkshake in a one go.

"she's in trouble?" choso gauges your reaction and imitates you, putting away his own things as he puts his jacket on.

"she's about to be if we don't come pick her up now." you place you purse back on your shoulder as you draw enough of cash to cover the bill and tip, "c'mon, let's go."

choso wasn't so wrong in the end, since you both arrived in time to prevent a tragedy from happening, one more on the list that shoko may not remember - despite the scale of it. you and choso agreed to take back your possessions – in this case yuki and shoko, who seemed to be standing on their own two feet only by some celestial force.

no need to to depict the end of the night, it was always the same when you went out with shoko. though something – or rather someone – during evening had told you it wasn't going to be the same ; that your tranquility was long gone, that you had now committed, whether you'd like it or not apparently, to be a fucking babysitter.

and he was fast with it, he didn't wait a week or so, he didn't even try to make it natural. the day after the party, choso went straight to talk to you, and the boy didn't even care if you were with your group of friends, the same that vehemently talked shit behind his back.

he didn't even try to wipe that smile off of his face, nor to calm the rosy tint on his cheeks that left little room for other interpretations. he didn't even try to cover for you when he gave you change for the milkshake you'd paid for – and God he didn't seem to understand that if you'd paid him it didn't mean you particularly wanted to give him the impression he owed you anything in return.

he also didn't notice that you didn't appreciate his refund, that you would have preferred to send him off, but that under the pressure from satoru and shoko, who were only viciously agreeable to him, you had to accept his exchange with a big smile.

you really didn't know whether his behavior was of the order of undisputed innocence or whether it was a means of publicly humiliating you.

in any case, the incident didn't go away, not with satoru and shoko around the corner, who were both just explaining the situation to suguru in the middle of lunch in the refectory.

"she left yuki and i alone with a bunch of freaks," shoko declares through the clattering sounds of the cantine while pointing her fork on you as she explains the evening, once again.

"you didn't seem to mind when i pulled you away from one that you were trying to dissect open with a knife." you insist, once again.

you stir the fuming food and distribute it homogeneously over your plate to let it cool down, ignoring shoko's words as she continues the story.

"it's kinda funny that you spent the evening with a guy who's a carbon copy of the type you say you hate." suguru intervenes and you sigh at the snarky remark. satoru keeps chewing on his food carelessly, clearly enjoying the roast you're subject to.

you shake your head at the statement, "spending an evening with someone and actually enjoying the time spent is different."

"mhm, clearly if i hadn't called you you'd still be making out with him right now.." shoko mocks and you swear you can see satoru's lips twitch in amusement.

"we just talked !" you half whisper, half scream, letting your food drop into your plate, causing your friends to shush you.

"c'mon just say you like him, we'll still be friends y'know?" you look deadpan at satoru, a look that doesn't require any words.

"i mean everyone knew he had a crush on you in high school, it wouldn't be surprising if it was still the case." suguru shrugs, you don't know if if he's being honest this time or if it's another joke. you choose to believe the latter.

you shake your head and look around the cantine to ease your mind from your shit friends, which doesn't seem to be the thing to do as satoru adds another weight to your already heavy shoulders.

"what? looking for your new pet? homeboy is probably hiddin' in his room right now. i mean, when doesn't he?"

you breathe out tensely, butchering your food with your cutlery as you clearly picture some detailed ways you'd like to treat the man in front of you.

"fucking assholes.."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

after what happened during the last couple of days you really tried taking measures. good measures. and it was kind of ironic how choso should've been the type to try and dodge any interaction with your friends, but now you were the one trying to sneak past him.

he was nice. you'll give him that.

but he was stupid. so fucking careless. and really naive because he surely did think an evening sipping on milkshake meant something along the lines of "will you marry me?"

anytime he spotted you in between classes he just had to walk in your direction. whether it was just small talk or not, he talked to you every. single. time.

but he was so nice. you couldn't just shove it in his face? could you? despite shoko's encouragement to drop him there's something that just.. didn't feel right. and may God forgive you, but you know this is certainly not the advent of your good morals.

though all of that clingy attitude really pissed you off, you did find yourself thinking about that evening and how Elvis Presley was so annoyingly being repeated in the background. how his eyes, despite their darkness and exhausted features, never ceased to display the most authentically pure emotions you've ever seen.

"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me."

you sigh, heavily. some conflicted parts of you wanted to know more, an evening wasn't enough to just send him off right away, right? who was he? who does he claim to be? and the fact that you don't remember him, no, you can't remember him doesn't help either to your curiosity. because you did search through your yearbooks and to see his face didn't help you bring back lost memories.

shit maybe you just need someone to ring some senses to you but you also don't want shoko nor satoru to do it, as much as you hate to think about it they'll taint your vision more than they'll clear it out. in some ways choso was right ; their judgment might have their part to play in the way you think. in some ways only.

or maybe you're trying to blame your friends for your shitty behavior which only makes you feel ten times worse. you let out a grunt as you get up from your chair, going to the library to study with a clouded mind wasn't a good idea and even more at the end of the day.

failing to have a cigarette you can borrow from shoko right now, you choose to take a walk around campus. it's not the best sight but the air is far more fresh outside.

oh and how ironic was it when your feet led you upstairs to the dorms. it's not like you even planned your itinerary, it was like second nature to you, plus the air definitively felt a lot more breathable.

out of all the rumors you've heard, you knew at least one was true : choso was an orphan ; he stayed in the dorms right above the college structure.

and how absurd that was when you feet planted right outside his doorway – you can say thank you to the floor tenant files that didn't seem to care about the resident's personal information.

the thing missing though is your speech. you didn't have anything in mind. fuck what are you thinking? you're not even sure you'd want to see him at all, despite your evident location. before you could produce another stupid thought your fist met the door to knock twice.

it was about six seconds of wait that felt like half a minute as you just stood there outside. the door opened slightly ajar, and it reminded you of the first time – well not counting high school – that you saw him.

long strands of black hair dangled in front of the doorway before he stepped closer to fill the gap with his width. of course his eyes widened. they always do when they meet yours.

"oh, hey," he quickly looked over his shoulder, behind him and lowered his eyes to take a look at himself.

it was an agreeable sight, you will not deny. his hair were hanging loose at shoulder length, wearing only an oversized white t-shirt (was it oversized or just his actual stature ?) and gray sweatpants. you almost felt like diverting your eyes away as if you were prying on something you shouldn't see.

"hey."

silence.

"are you okay?" he stays still, swiping his tongue inside his lower lip while playing with his ring piercing you presume ; a habit of his you've noticed. you don’t really know if he's asking to be polite or if you genuinely look like you need help.

"mhm," you nod, "can i come in?"

"uhh, yeah" he takes another look behind him and you're starting to think maybe you came at the wrong time. "yeah, of course." he opens the door wider and steps aside, you enter and to your relief nothing crazy's going on.

the room is neatly organized to your surprise, not that you were imagining a slum, but you were expecting something more akin to the prototype of the homebody student. you avoid looking too much everywhere, you didn't come for that anyway.

choso retreats to his desk where he leans against it, his hands on the length of the edge to support his body.

"looks serious eh?" he escapes a small laugh, almost a scoff actually as he scratches his forearm and you suddenly want to leave the room because of how miserable you feel.

"we have to stop this.. thing here." you point to him then yourself.

you almost feel bad for him. almost, because of the way his hand previously on his other arm stops in the previous scratching motion, because of the way he only stares at you for a few solid seconds.

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i mean," you sigh "i don't even know why you suddenly want to talk to me anyway," you shake your head and look down. it's not even something you're blaming him for, you're really wondering why he'd want to talk to someone who plays on both sides with him.

"it's not.. that sudden. i've always wanted to talk to you." he tells you softly, "have i done something wrong?"

he's too nice with you it makes you audibly grunt.

"do you have a crush on me or something?"

silence again. a longer one this time. you didn't really mean to blurt it out like that, you'd envisioned something a little more subtle but frustration got the best of you.

his body shifts, his hands move closer to his body and he crosses his arms over his chest, tapping his biceps with his finger repeatedly. he stays silent.

"it's a yes or no question choso."

he pinches the bridge of his nose just where his mark is and breathes out a small "fuck".

"alright. it's ok if you don't wanna use your words, you certainly don't fail showing it to the whole fucking world anyway."

he takes a step forward rapidly, a single step but big enough to be closer to you nonetheless.

"i'm sorry, shit, i didn't know it would make you so upset. i'm sorry." he apologies. and you don't know if he realizes how upset he looks in the situation, he runs a hand through his hair in distress and you can see how agitated he is.

his face is right above yours, you don't really have to do anything but to look up to meet his panicked eyes. and it's a complete contrast how your eyebrows almost hurt from the frown while his face is contorted in worry.

and you'll blame your beating heart on your irritation and building up anger and definitely not because of his sole proximity. you try to commit to that thought at least.

"you're insufferable you know that?" you hug yourself as you readjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looks away for a flitting second before bringing his eyes back on you, or your lips ; he's very indecisive poor boy doesn't know where to look when he has you this close to him.

"i.. i didn't know know how to tell you i'm sorry i just–"

"oh shut up,"

you practically throw yourself on him as it's the only way he'll eventually stop apologizing, one of your hands quickly wrap around his neck, to the base of his nape pulling him closer as your lips crash onto his. choso stumbles back at the contact and his hands reach instinctively on your waist for support, his body hits the desk where he stood prior and he escapes the faintest gasp at the harsh contact.

you wouldn't even have dreamed of doing this – fuck if shoko would come to know about this she'd probably laugh at you. but he's so gentle in his every moves, his every words, so naive about your motives it would be a damn shame if he knew what kind of crap person you really are. if the two of you really had to stop talking like you stated, your only wish would be to at least do this before.

choso's fingers grip more tightly on your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt practically playing with the hem of it. he pulls you closer and parts his lips to kiss you back avidly while your nails dig deeper around his nape at the feeling, before sliding them back along his jaw to orient his head at a better angle. you feel him exhale through his nose as you slow down your pace, slowly detaching your lips from his.

"y'taste good." he whispers against your lips, his forehead is practically touching yours and it's only now that you realize how much his features have changed within seconds. his eyes are blazed, breathless and fingers shaky around your waist. you'll blame the taste of your lips of the cherry gloss you're wearing – and he's wearing too now that his lips are shiny from it.

you're no better though, you swallow as you catch your breath, your heart is pounding in your chest so much you also hear it through the buzzing of your ears, coating the sounds around you.

"yeah? what is it, never kissed before?" you smile, you'll never get tired of teasing him, not when he always gives you the same look.

"not like that," he pants and smile back at you, a little smile that soon turns into a frown, "i.. shit, i wanna make you feel good. can i?" his voice is so low it makes your head spin.

"then do it," you kiss him once slowly and you feel him shudder at the new sensation, "make me feel good." you kiss him twice, even slower this time.

no need to say it twice for choso, if it's not you latching on him right now he definitely doesn't feel like backing down, he takes your answer for words and his hands find your cheeks instantly, cupping them as he puts a lot more pressure, making you step back. your hands lower down on his shoulders and your purse slip down your arm until it reaches the ground harshly ; not your priority number one right now.

he presses his body even closer to you and you don't need an explanatory drawing of what's happening down his pants as you feel his hard on pressed against you. you put your thigh forward, adding your own pressure against him and the moan that escapes his lips is enough to make your skin shiver and your panties tighter. much tighter.

still glued to each other, he guides you to his bed, just behind and it takes a couple steps back for your calves to hit the furniture, your body drops down the bed as you look up at him and you think he's about to slouch his own body on you, but he kneels down right before you instead.

you put your hands on the bed behind you to push yourself farther against the wall but to your – second – surprise he puts his hands flat on your knees.

"i need you right here," he soothes as he taps your knee lightly, making you stop in your movements. you don't know if he's about to do what you think he's about to do but your questions get quickly answered.

"can i?" he asks as he flicks his eyes onto your skirt, asking permission to touch it you guess. you nod eagerly and he leans back slightly to take your mary janes off instead, right foot, then to the left foot so ever carefully and putting them aside on the floor. you watch him and notice how steady and focused he looks despite his torso heaving up and down rapidly, you see it.

he straighten up on his knees and the sight has you gulping down, you're on his bed, he's on the ground just right in front of you, his eyes scan your face thoroughly you almost feel overwhelmed by it. your skirt gets pulled down easily, oh but so slowly, you prop yourself up on your elbows to make it easier for him.

"so pretty." he breathes out, he discards the piece of clothing on the floor and places both of his hands on your hips to bring your body closer to him as he easily glides you.

he leans in and his face is only inches away from your crotch, he glances at you before returning back on your clothed cunt. his thumb circles the hem of your panties as if he's admiring the sewing method and your breath hitches when his thumb drops a little lower, down where you clit hides beneath the fabrics.

"don't have all day, choso" you gulped, your hands bawl into tight fists in apprehension.

"okay–okay." he coos and immediately grant your wish ; he pulls your panties down and you're now bottom naked on his bed. it gives you a real reason to be embarrassed for sure because you didn't really "plan" on being that drenched from a single quick make out session. and the more he stares at your exposed cunt the more you grow impatient.

"choso.." you try to warn him but it comes out as a whine instead. he shifts as he gets closer to the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands under your legs to grab onto your thighs firmly.

"gonna make you feel good ok?"

"jus' do it–" you choke on your own words when you feel his tongue on you. a single lap and you're already panting in the room like a mad woman, "ffuck." you whine and your hand reaches immediately down to get a hold of something – his hair in this case which is being in his vision doesn't stop him nonetheless to complete his mission – as it's the only way you'd call it due to how devoted he looks between your legs.

he gives you a few more laps, down from your entrance to the very top on your clit, and he's diverse in his moves you'll give him that – he goes either way from the right side, then the left side, until he decides to flick his tongue against your pussy from side to side this time. you'd honestly thought the man would go down on you as his first time, his first experiment but it looks like you're the one experimenting for the first time his tongue skills – that, you don't miss to point out.

"shit- where the fuck did you learn to do that?" you pant, you push his hair back the best you can though it still falls atop of your pussy, giving you extra tingles on the way.

the sounds are purely gross, the room is nothing but a space for filth, hearing liquids collides whether it'd be his saliva on you or your slick on him. doesn't help from your restrained moans nor from his own whimpers that resonate lowly against your skin – it's almost as if he's being louder than you are.

he props your legs up onto his own shoulders when he leans down further into your pussy, getting better access while your thighs are in the air, tensing and quivering at each touch.

you start to seriously lose it when you feel pressure on your clit, getting even more stimulated your head starts to feel dizzy ; his thumb brushes against your folds to gather your juices before going up to your clit while his tongue starts to push down your entrance.

he mumbles something but you can't understand either from the pounding in your ears or because he factually has his mouth buried in your cunt.

"you feel so– fuck!" you almost cry out when he accelerates the pace on your clit "so fuckin' good shit," and before you get hold of the situation your muscles contract, your thighs wraps even tighter around choso and you're not really in the mindset to care if you're hurting him right now when you're nothing more than a trembling mess under him.

when you release the grip you have around his head with your legs, he slowly backs down and wipes under his chin with the back of his hand, breathing heavily as if he had just come flooding back from the water after a long dive. the sight has your brain rebooting from the start, simply short circuited.

"t'was okay?"

you almost feel indignation for his own self when you look at him in disbelief, "okay? thought i was losing my mind over there," you slowly sit up as you look at him with heavy lids. you probably look like you got run over.

"want me to get something to–"

he stops once he sees you getting your top over your shoulders, taking it off and throwing on the chair near his desk. you get closer to the edge of the bed, still sit up on it as you cage him between your legs since he's still kneeling on the ground.

"well.. i guess you have other plans..?" he murmurs under his breath, he doesn't even try to hide the fact he's staring, the man is practically glued to you like when kids stand too close to a tv.

"you're a perceptive one aren't you?" you leaned down to slip your fingers under his shirt, near his hips to take it off too, "unless you don't want to?" you whisper, stopping your movements to get his approval before starting anything but oh don't you dare take your hands off of him because he'll put them back on their original place.

"no–no, i do. i want you." his eyes meets yours and it's as if repentance was just knocking at your door and you don't know if you're willing to open the door because of how good he ate your pussy or because you really feel like you should do it.

"good."

you knew choso was introverted, a little shy even, the kind of men to be a little prudish even, the ones who'd rather stay indoors, the ones who's rather not get touched by anybody, even less when those places are under their clothes. you thought he was that kind of man when you'd first met him.

you got fooled. once when he mastered the technique of his tongue on you a few minutes ago that got your jaw dislocating in pleasure. but twice now that his shirt is past his torso, up to get through his head and you see yet another pair of silver jewelry. one on each of his nipples.

and your reaction is suited honestly, you just drop your arms and leave him struggling with the shirt on his own as his head is still tangled inside of it, you swear under your breath as you look at the two shiny buds. and maybe he did it as a distraction, getting two silvery eyes up his breast might be one hell of a surprise when you're trying to look at his whole torso ; but even in that case you wouldn't get why on earth you'd need to be distracted from his upper body, because what a fucking view.

once you see choso's head pop out of his t-shirt you're so turned on you're scared if you move you'll just leave the biggest pond of your slick on his covers ; you're feeling genuinely embarrassed to say the least.

"come here, get on your back." you tap on your left to show him the way on his own bed, he executes your demand without much more convincing. he lays down where his pillow rest, propping his head up a little as he still supports his body on his forearms, watching you.

which is not such a bad thing as it gets his whole upper body tensing up from the position, and you realize you got fooled thrice because of how defined his body is, muscles tracing his skin in the prettiest way.

you crawl closer to him and take his sweatpants off, throwing them along with the other remaining of clothes on the ground.

you straddle choso, only in his boxers now and he's always on the lookout for your next move, eyes traveling along every part of your body standing so close to him. you lean in to kiss him again, a simple kiss this time, not heated, nor passionate as you'd intended earlier, almost too intimate to your liking. you feel him relax under you, no, melt. he melts under your kiss, his back rests totally flat on his bed now and his hands travel along you jaw, touching you like porcelain if it were to break.

"it's only fair i return the favor, right?" you tell him as you lean near his ear, and if you chose to ignore the bulge in his underwear when you got him out off his pants you're certain you can't now. it's entirely poking through the fabrics to lean oh so perfectly against your entrance you have to fight back a moan just at the feeling. how embarrassing.

"fuck, please do." he moans, his hands get back on your hips slowly, pressing his fingers into your skin lightly. though you'd rather take some of your time, if you're in this might as well do it right.

you kiss your way down his body, from his lips, to his jaw, on his neck a few times — just because you love watching his adam's apple bobble up every time he gulps when you touch him — near his collarbones, on his torso and why not on the twins piercings he's got on it too.

at the contact of your tongue swirling around his nipples choso instantly throws his head back on his pillow, earning a deep breath from him along with a "fuckk" he couldn't bite back. at the same time your hips start to grind, slowly, cautiously, you wouldn't want to get off on his boxers now would you?

your hands reach down his boxers, under it to grab his dick but... maybe you got fooled fourth time. or maybe the saying is right, the quietest got the biggest and he's a living proof of the statement, you can attest. you break the contact on his sensitive buds and sit up correctly to look at it lay flat on his stomach, curved and strained in its own blood flow. you really have to close your mouth to not drool on it directly and you mumble something unintelligible.

his hands rest on your thighs, they try to guide you forward, they really do and you let them. you bring your hips forward, pussy gliding – as it's the only way it would be described, you're soaked – on his dick, just slipping through your wet folds, enough to mold him on the way forward, then all the way back when you return to your position. you let your hands fall on his abs, you're not even tired, you just need the support right now or else you're afraid you'll just collapse right onto him.

"God, you feel so good," you whine, grinding slowly along his cock and you honestly don't know how he's handling it down there 'cause it feels too fucking good for you.

"n-need you right now," he painfully gulps, he looks at the friction with a frown and he lowers his head back on the pillow, "shit..." he whimpers, such a wobbly voice yet he's not even inside of you thus far. you don't know who's winning the embarrassing contest but he might win over you if you keep giving him good pussy.

"so sweet. you're too fuckin' sweet y'know that?" you praise and choso's hands come directly to grab at your tits, cupping the roundness of them with both hands as he massages them slowly, pinching your nipple between his index and his thumb.

you're done with being patient actually as it is your cue to wrap your fingers around the head of his cock. you brush your thumb over his tip and his whole body jerks off from the touch, you slide your whole hand down the base of it as you pull yourself up on your knees.

you thought you'd reached the epitome of pleasure when he was between your legs just now, and you don't know what other seventh heaven you landed on when he entered you, but it was just as similar.

the head of his cock has just slipped through and you're already full of it, full of him. and you have no doubt when you look at choso that he's feeling it too. you both moan at the new feeling, a feeling you were too puerile to treat with such disdain when you looked at him, a feeling you'd never come to know if he didn't slightly hurt your ego with his kindness.

"holy shit, so fucking tight f'me.." he purrs through the whole process, his hands help you go down, steadily and slowly at your pace when more than half of his cock has sunk into you. your legs shake slightly when you've reached the end, you start to bounce up and down lazily, hearing every gushing sounds of both of your slick as they disperse through your organs.

he can't help it, you don't know if it's because you've teased him so much pior that he can't hold it in anymore, but the grip on your hips gets tighter, the bouncing up and down his cock gets messier, and even though your thighs start to feel numb you soon understand that choso has your back. his hips starts to buck back into you to meet your hips halfway, skin to skin as they collide rapidly.

"f–fuck, choso, you're gonna make m–"

"i know, i know." he soothes, you lean into him, chest to chest as you put your hands on his shoulders. and you can't help but be extremely grateful right now as you're practically laying down on him, he's fucking right into you with the help of his hands pressing down your hips as he moans in your ears softly.

"wanna make this pretty pussy mine– fuck. wanna make you mine." he whimpers and you can hear the way his throat tightens that he's close. you wouldn't wanna lie saying you're not – to be honest you've been wanting to come as soon as you hoped on his thighs.

you don't know if it's the heat of the moment, because you're taking his dick so fucking perfectly inside of you that the thought of being with him doesn't really repulse you that much, for it actually seems pleasant enough to imagine it.

"fuck–fuck-i'm gonna cum!"

and you sincerely hope nobody is in their dorms right now because you're sure the whole floor knows what their nerdy resident is doing to some resentful student on campus. he's so vocal you wouldn't have it any other way, specially when every each one of his moans reach your cunt before your ears.

you feel your legs tremble and your nails dig deeper into his skin when you reach your second orgasm, and not one for the weak ones as your pussy clenches so tightly you think you're sucking choso's dick whole with the suction. your hips get pulled up on spot when choso releases his own shot in between your bodies, his dick springing out from where it was caged. you still tremble on him when he breathes heavily, coming down to his high.

you both stay silent for a couple of seconds and reality hits you back.

"you're too good to me." he murmurs as he wipes some of the mascara under your eyes with his thumb, you head is still near the crook of his neck, you don't move.

oh only if he knew.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"can you believe nerdy boy got laid?"

you turn to shoko almost too rapidly, "what?"

"i know, who would do that.."

you don't say anything. you don't really wanna say anything for now, but you know shoko isn't saying that just to make the conversation when she waits for an answer. a valid one.

©nabitsun !

thank you for reading :D

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plussizeficchick · 1 year

Text

Taste of Heaven | Sugar Daddy!Gojo x Bimboish! Chubby Reader

Warnings: (Smut; oral, fingering, vibrator, light impact play, ‘toru’s a bit mean in this one)

Gojo loves your smile.

He loves the way your cute, chubby cheeks lift. How he can actually see stars in your eyes when your lips curve upwards.

It really doesn’t take much.

New Jimmy Choos here, Telfars different colors and sizes there. He barely made a dent in his pocket yet you thought he was spoiling you.

He hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of spoiling you.

How you met was of pure chance. Gojo felt there was something, someone lacking from his life. He had all this wealth, yet no one to share it with. As he was browsing through the various expensive clothes in front of him, he hadn’t bothered to pay attention and bumped into you. You were trying to decide which mini skirt would go with your bubblegum pink top. “Oof- Hey, Mister? Which do you think is cuter, light blue or dark?” Satoru almost didn’t catch your question because he was too busy gaping in awe.

The only way to describe you was angelic. Gorgeous eyes that he could already feel himself getting lost in, pouty, plump lips that he could only imagine felt like pillows, cute, pudgy tummy that complimented your bodycon dress deliciously.

Pure heaven.

He let out an awkward cough before answering, “Why not both?” You let out a soft giggle, “I can’t get both, silly! I’m already buying a bunch of stuff.” Satoru smiles, peeking over his shades, “That’s not a problem, Angel.”

— —

“Are you sure about this, ‘Toru?” You murmured, glassy eyes staring back into light blue ones. He gave you a loving squeeze as a smirk made its way to his face, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “Of course, Angel. Has daddy ever been wrong?” You shake your head, pressing a brief peck to his lips before moving to check yourself in the mirror again, Satoru raking his eyes up and down your figure.

You looked great, you always do. Satoru decided to splurge, once again, treating you to a shopping spree and now dinner. You decided to wear one of the many Armani gowns that you’d bought, though this one hugged your curves impeccably. You paired it with your sleek black Louboutin heels, which made your thighs look even more yummy than they already do, and Satoru can already feel himself getting hard. But he can’t get ahead of himself.

You’ve got a cute baby blue vibrator nestled in your cunt just begging to be tested out.

So for now, he’ll put his desires aside and sit through dinner.

— —

You’d made it as far as the door before both you and Satoru lost your patience.

He pressed you up against the door, his tongue swirling in tandem with yours as he hoists you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, soft whimpers spilling from your lips. “On. Turn it on, ‘Toru.” You whine against his lips. He abruptly pulls away from your lips, pushing you back as you chase after him. He delivers a slap to your cheek, not enough to hurt, but enough to know he means business. “Since when did you start telling daddy what to do?” He says, carrying you over to your couch. He takes his time peeling away at your clothes, leaving you bare while he remains fully clothed. A shiver runs down your spine as he lays you across his lap, kneading your ass cheeks. “Seems like someone needs to be reminded of their place.” He muttered before reeling his hand back and delivering a harsh slap to your ass. You whine at the pain, but your cunt clenches at the slight pleasure that comes afterward. “You’re my cocksleeve, love. A dirty. Fucking. Slut.” He says, delivering a slap between each pause. Your body shifts as he spanks you, and it doesn’t take long before he realizes what you’re trying to do.

He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you up so you can really hear him. “I see you trying to get off on my thigh, fucking slut. Since you wanna cum so bad, I’ll let you cum, but you’re gonna cum for me all. Fucking. Night.” He sits you up so that you’re straddling him before he reaches for his phone. He taps his chin, almost as if he’s in thought. “Hmm, should I make you work for it, or should I just put it on the highest setting?” He contemplates, though he already knows his answer. He turns it on the highest setting and you yelp, startled by the intense vibrations in your cunt. “How about both?” He smirks, snaking a hand down to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’re gonna make me cum, Angel. You’re gonna make daddy feel good then he’s gonna make you feel even better. How’s that sound?”

You try to whine out an answer, but the thrumming of the vibrator in your cunt is just too intense. You’re taken aback when Satoru delivers another slap to your cheek, gripping your chubby cheeks between his fingers. “Answer me.” He grumbles, flicking your clit with his middle and forefinger. “Good! Sounds good, daddy. Please!” You whine. You’re so close! “Cum, Princess. Cum for daddy.” He grunts into your mouth as he presses a hot kiss to your swollen lips. You whine as your orgasm washes over you, your body practically conditioned to cum at his command.

He lowers the speed as you come down from your high, though doesn’t completely turn it off. He takes to lowering his pants before giving you a quick kiss. “Make daddy feel good, yeah?” You nod, lowering yourself so that you're faced with his cock.

You run your tongue along the veins of his cock, before lapping up with drops of pre oozing from the tip. You moan at the taste and Satoru takes that as invitation to grip your hair, forcing you to take more of him in your mouth. “That’s it, pretty. Suck that fucking cock.” He orders and well, you’ve always been a submissive little thing.

You swallow more of his length, crystalline tears building up in your eyes, and Satoru thinks you just look so gorgeous with his cock stuffed down your throat, your cute chubby cheeks just waiting to be stuffed with cum. It’s with that thought he starts to feel his climax building and when you notice the slight jerk in his legs, you take to fondling his balls, knowing that’s just what he needs to push him over the edge.

Satoru cums with a shout, thrusting deep inside your mouth as his seed slides down your throat. You hum at the taste, savoring his flavor.

He pulls you up by your chin and plants a sloppy kiss to your lips, groaning at the taste of him in your mouth. “Fuck, Angel. Let daddy taste you, hm?” You nod, eager to cum again.

Satoru slowly makes his way down your body, pressing wet kisses and nipping at the soft skin along the way. He shuts the vibrator off and carefully removes it from your cunt. You hiss at the feeling but he soothes you by laving his tongue over it, paying special attention to your clit. You whine, running your hands through his hair and giving a slight tug at the root. He grunts before sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take long before your hips start bucking against his face, chasing your orgasm for the second time that night. “Gonna cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum for daddy?” You nod, breath getting caught in your throat. Satoru speeds up his movements, moving to press two fingers into your cunt. “Cum for daddy, Angel. Make a mess f’me.” You barely manage to make out his name as you cum, cunt spasming around his fingers as he milks your orgasm for all its worth.

He trails soft kisses along your body once more before planting a sweet kiss to your lips. He hums against your lips, content being so close to you. He pulls away slightly to look you in your eyes. “Want more, daddy.” You say, grinding your cunt against his steadily growing cock.

He can never say no to his Angel.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

#x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader #anime x black!reader #gojo x reader #gojo x chubby reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x chubby reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #chubby reader #anime x reader

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Note

I saw something on Twitter, about Price.

It's nsfw 🔞 but looks very good 🫠

https://twitter.com/sofftxddies/status/1626443619518259200?t=oX_ciPHgKspPVktwBiyKzg&s=19

I hope it didn't bother you that I sent something like this... 👉🏻👈🏻

AGEGAJBAIA you didn’t bother me at all omg now I have to write a little something based off this thank you for linking that

Smut (18+) mdni, fingering, little bit of praise in there, softdom!Price, squirting

The room was full of wets sounds and strained moans as you tried your hardest to stay quiet. Cigar smoke hung in the air and choked you, making it harder to breathe than it already was as the air was stolen from you from push into your sore cunt.

Your body jerked with every thrust of Price’s long and thick fingers as he pushed the deep inside of you. A whine escaped your throat as he curled his fingers and pushed against that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. It was incredibly sensitive now after having been toyed with for what felt like hours now. You weren’t sure how many times you’ve cummed on just his fingers alone but it was enough to have you writhing against his desk.

“Needy little thing.” Price had a smug smirk around the cigar in his mouth as he kept a steady pace with his fingers and watched your exposed chest heave.

“John…” You breathless as you dug your fingers into his wrist as the pain of overstimulation hit you. “Too much.”

“You can handle it.”

A ragged moan escaped your lips as he began to massage your clit and you clenched down on his fingers. Pleasure raced up your spine and you could feel yourself already getting close again, causing you to try to close your thighs.

Price pressed his hand into your thigh and pushed it down against the desk, opening you up further for him as he drove his fingers into you at a faster pace. He chuckled around his cigar when you squealed and didn’t let up even as you tried to push him away.

“This is what you wanted.” He teased you in the low voice of his and leaned closer to your face. The cigar smoke made you eyes water as you stared up at him with hazy eyes from the pleasure he was giving you. “Be a good girl and take my fingers, eh?”

You couldn’t say anything as you nodded and clenched around him so tight that if it weren’t for the fact that you were dripping slick onto the desk, he wouldn’t have been able to loved his fingers.

“That’s it. That’s my good little slut.” He praised and you moaned loudly.

Price put pressure on your clit as he massaged it and continued to curl his fingers up inside of you at a brutal pace. His eyes never left your face as it contorted with pleasure as the pain of overstimulation gave way to something so heavenly you weren’t sure if you were inside your body anymore.

You could hardly breathe as you felt yourself on the very edge of your climax.

“I’m-I’m gonna-“ You couldn’t even get the words out as you moaned and whined.

“That’s it, love. Cum for me, give me one more.”

Pleasure snapped inside your stomach your body jerked on top of the desk. Your eyes rolled back and your thighs shook as you gushed around his fingers onto the floor. You couldn’t stop the moans that left your mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm until you desperately clawing at him to stop.

Price grinned as he removed his fingers and stared down at the messed you made in his office before he began to undo his belt.

You whined and shook your head, though you opened your legs wider for him. You weren’t sure how much more you could take as he grabbed both of your thighs and pressed the tip of his cock at your throbbing cunt.

“You can give me on more, love.” He slowly slid his coke inside of you, causing both of you to moan. “Wanna make more of a mess.”

A/N: pure filth that I’m not entirely sure I liked but the drawing got me so lol

#captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #price x reader #mw2 price #john price mw2 #john price

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14dayswithyou · 1 year

Note

I find myself under massive pressure because of my finals.

So I find myself horny.

May we have some whimpering/overstimulated, tied up [REDACTED] after getting his brattiness fucked right out of them?

(I'm sleepy, tired and depressed. Not sure if I wrote this ask correctly cuz It's not my first language so, um, sorry)

✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaaa I hope your finals go well!! <3 You can do this (if you haven't already!!) ^^

NOTE: Angel is gender neutral (as always) but they have a pp in this one!!! It can be a real one or a strap on -- whateva you prefer!

"F-Fuuuuck."

He practically whines into the open air, dark hair pooling underneath his head as [REDACTED] languidly shifts his hips against your length. He almost loses composure (or what's left of it) the moment your hands descend upon his chest — though once they start to travel lower, he's all but buckling against the bedsheets and slinking away.

"Ngh— Shit," He almost bites his tongue, "Wait!"

Your mind registers his words, though your hands continue their descent until they tangle themselves in a patch of dark, thick curls. Admiring the way [REDACTED]'s face morphs into strained pleasure, you brush past his weeping cock in favour of pushing his legs up to meet his chest and sinking deeper into his inviting heat.

"Oi! I said wait! 'M still—" He keens out when he feels the heavy weight and stretch of your shaft inside him, making his body ache in all the right places. "—Can't. 'M still sensitive... Give me a secon—"

His head falls back when you start to thrust once more.

"I can't! 'M gonna shoot blanks!" Your dark-haired hacker lets out a shaky laugh before trying to cover his reddening cheeks with his arm, only to realise that they were still tied to the headboard by his belt. "Ah! F-Fu—"

You try to soothe his slight discomfort by pressing hot kisses against his collarbone and neck, though that only seems to encourage him to writhe on your length even more and whimper about how overstimulated he's feeling. Yet despite the pain, your dark-haired boyfriend can't help but surrender himself to your affection — immediately leaning into your kisses and shamelessly rutting his hips despite the ache.

It seems that despite everything, he could never refuse your touch.

"Feels good..." He rasps out, "Feels s'good. Please."

He's not sure what he's begging for. For you to speed up, to slow down, to go harder — his mind becomes a hazy mess of you, you, you, as you fuck him through yet another orgasm for the night.

He doesn't mind that you're not giving his cock any attention, instead letting it bounce between your bodies as he comes undone on your own.

"I'm gonna—" He's babbling now, mouth hanging wide open as his eyes roll back, "Gonna cum again— Gonna— Ah!"

Your name falls from his lips like a mantra as the hacker's back arches off the mattress. [REDACTED] was right when he said that he'd start shooting blanks soon, because if it weren't for the look of ecstatic bliss on his face and the drawn-out moan, you wouldn't have known that he just came again.

A satisfied sigh falls from his lips as he blinks away the tears, and he can only look at you with soft eyes that beg you to come closer and rest your heartbeat against his.

Indulging him, you lean up to remove the restraints around his wrists, peppering his face with soft, kitten kisses and gentle nuzzles as you go along. You can feel [REDACTED]'s lips curl into a soft smile against your skin, but not before he playfully bites down on your neck and sends a shiver up your spine.

Oh?

Taking that as your chance to lean back and look at his smug expression, you send him a mischievous grin of your own before spreading his legs wide open once more.

"Still feeling bratty, are we?" You pull back, "Luckily for you; I didn't get to come yet."

#not proofreading this i am ✨embarrassed✨ sdngkgjksg #but wahhh I hope you did well on your finals Mei!! ^^#I hope this suffices (or at least makes up for how long it took me to replyskghds)#and seeing as you're the leader of the [REDACTED] love club; he's got no choice but to fight your teachers if they give you a bad mark <3 #💌 — answered.#🔞 — woohoo zone.#💖 — about ren.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — sai writes.

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sillybucket · 11 months

Text

“I’m here” { Johnathan Ohnn/Spot x g/n reader }

Dude - this guy conquered my heart ever since the first scene of him stealing the ATM machine got released !

I can’t get enough of how chaotic and adorable the Spot is , so I thought it would’ve been fun to write a little fanfic for him :D

As always I apologize for eventual ooc moments , and if someone already wrote something similar to this know it’s not my intention to copy anyone !

🍃 Warnings 🍃 : some depictions of the Alchemax accident are present at the start , nothing too graphic but still look out if that’s something that could make you uncomfortable !

This story features Johnathan waking up from a bad dream about his transformation with the reader comforting him … I just really wanna give him a hug :,( ❣️

⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . … a sudden bright light …

… the deafening noise of the Collider exploding …

… the rumbling of the building falling apart …

Johnathan’s heart was pounding in his chest , his breathing sharp and frightened as he held on to his experiment with shaky hands while desperately trying to make his way outside the room , constantly tripping onto the pieces of the collapsing lab …

… why … ?

… why was this happening … ?!

Suddenly , the sound of glass shattering pierced through his ears , and as he looked down he realized …

“No … ! NO !!”

The capsule had broke , and when the dark matter contained inside it surrounded him and entered his body he couldn’t help but let out a terrified scream :

… the pain …

It felt like holes were forming on his skin , making parts of it disappear into nothingness …

And his face …

Johnathan could clearly feel his features vanishing , from his eyes , to his nose , to his mouth and even his ears …

All gone in an instant .

The man fell to his knees in agony , his body shaking as he tried looking at his hands …

They looked … bigger … unfamiliar … they didn’t feel like they were his at all , they didn’t even look like a part of him anymore .

“No … no no … nono no no no plea- no … nono …”

Johnathan sobbed uncontrollably , covering his now empty face with his arms , and everything around him seemed to become blurry and faded …

…

“Johnny … ?”

…

“Johnny , love …”

That voice … he knew that voice …

Slowly Johnathan woke up and got up in a sitting position on the bed , looking around the room while taking a few shaky breaths :

he was home … he was safe in (y/n)’s apartment , and they were right there next to him … that thought immediately managed to comfort him .

“(Y/n) … ?”

, he whispered , moving one hand towards their face to caress their cheek , almost as if he wasn’t entirely sure if what he was seeing was real .

“Yeah I’m here , I’m right here …”

They gave him a sweet , tired smile while holding his hand in theirs , suppressing a yawn .

“Did you have the dream again ?”

Johnathan nodded in response , the vivid memory of his transformation sending a shiver down his spine …

The man just didn’t seem to be able to escape it , no matter how much time had passed … he had even found himself a loving partner who accepted and cared for him despite his … unusual looks , and yet the events of that day were still haunting him , tattooed in his brain and following him wherever he went .

“It’s okay though , I’m good now . You should get back to sleep while you still can , I know you have work tomorrow …”

(Y/n) shook their head , moving closer to hold him in their arms while gently caressing his back .

“I’m gonna stay awake with you until you fall asleep , Johnny … I’ll be okay tomorrow , don’t worry .”

, they replied , burying their face in his chest .

Johnathan remained silent for a moment before hugging them back , slowly laying down with them on the bed once more . Their warmth immediately calmed him down , and as he placed his forehead against theirs he couldn’t help but smile to himself …

“Thank you (y/n) …”

After a while , they both fell asleep in each other’s arms , and no more bad dreams came to bother their peaceful slumber .

⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ . ⚫️ .

Thank you so much for reading this little fanfic until the end ! :D

I’ll definitely be writing more for the Spot , I just really enjoy coming up with cute , fluffy scenarios with him :,) ❤️ Feel free to leave some feedback if you feel like it !

#across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot atsv #atsv the spot

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presidentbungus · 5 months

Text

“I think you should kill Scout,” comes hissing, turning whispers by his armchair, as soon as he plunks down, settling in and flipping through his book to find the page he left off on.

Tavish ignores the voice, but it continues, that little nudge on the weakest part of the barrier around his mind. “Jus’ slide my blade through all that mushy stuff between his ribs, wouldn’t that be nice? Hear him gurgle, watch my tip come out shining red on the other side—“

“Eyelander,” Tavish firmly announces, defiantly licking his finger to turn a page because he’s sure Eyelander can damn well see it even though she’s five feet away on the floor. “Can a man nae sit down five bloody seconds before ye have to go start with this shite?”

There’s the ghostly equivalent of a heaving sigh, that Tavish almost feels across the back of his neck. “You haven’t taken me out in so long, Tavvy.” Two coughs, and a pathetic, rasping gasp, and Tavish starts wondering where he could find a big hammer and, just theoretically, really go to town on a, in this hypothetical, long thin piece of metal that thinks it’s a lot funnier than it is. “I’m practically dying. I dunno how much longer I can go on like this.”

“I was cuttin’ heads with ye four hours ago, you dull, butterknife, ugly, hackit, numpty fuckin’ butterknife.”

“You said butterknife twice.”

Tavish harrumphs, and says no more.

“Please, Tavvy. It would be so fun. Don’t you love mindless bloodshed? It used to be your favorite. Just think how fun it’d be. Doesn’t even have to be Scout, you know. What about Engie? He keeps pissing you off. You know between you and me I saw Sniper using your toothbrush since he couldn’t find his and if you had to ask my opinion—“

“I’m nae gonna stab somebody—what if I gave you a burrito, would that shut ye big barmy mouth?”

“… I can compromise.”

Tavish breathes a sigh of relief—that leftover half a burrito in the kitchen fridge has been sounding pretty good for a while now, and he supposes this is two birds with one stone. “Why don’t ye just ask for the burrito? It’s gotta be easier.”

“Killing’s just a little tiny bit tastier. I’ve got a good head for business, I know what I’m doing.”

Tavish puts down his book—he already knew that was a lost endeavor before he started, to be honest, and he quickly leans over and wraps his fingers around the hilt—and he feels something snap in his head as something other than him pushes through that barrier around his mind, forcing its way into his limbs, filling his veins like antifreeze, and all of a sudden he’s standing up as somebody else starts working his muscles and tendons.

A deep breath and he fights his way back into control, movements becoming impulses as all of a sudden he’s thinking for two.

Never gets old, comes a voice that’s now in his head, snickers cascading down his spine. Don’t suppose I can convince you to slam your foot in the door a few times?

“You’re already pushing yer luck—"

And all of a sudden his leg kicks to the side, hard, and the front of his foot hits the corner of a dresser and he yelps as a bolt of pain fires up his legs and his head’s filled with whoops and hollers. WOAH MAMA! That was a good one!

Tavish hisses: “You’re goin’ fucking back."

Sorry I’m sorry look I’m being so good now. And just like that, the other presence moves to the back of his head, receding from his limbs.

“That’s what I thought.”

#tf2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 eyelander #bungus headcanons #I LOVE EYELANDER!!!!!! expect some posts here because i have some Thoughts about how she works #i don’t think this makes any sense but that’s ok. send me asks about eyelander btw

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lxinesux · 1 year

Text

when i sink my teeth, (your skins not so tough)

Relationship: Peter Parker x Green Goblin!Super Solider!Reader

Summary: Peter reacts poorly to your attempted sacrifice. He seeks to let you know just how much you mean to him.

Warnings: Panic Attack, guns, PTSD, gore, violence, blood, and implied torture. Slight dubcon kissing that becomes very con lol Frottage, love confessions.

A/N: *screech* this has been rotting in my google docs for WEEKS and i’ve been editing it ova and ova and it’s still not up to par, to me. So I give lol. I really love this reader so- you may see her again. ONWARD!!

Peter very gently sets you on your shaky feet, trying to keep hold of your waist while he maneuvers out of the window.

You're already bleeding through the layers of webbing he used instead of a bandage and it’s soaking through the spandex of your costume. The wound itself doesn’t hurt, the adrenaline making sure of that, but you’re hot and cold and shaking and are pretty sure you're gonna vomit-

You tear the mask off your face, grunting as a few stray hairs are ripped from your scalp. You’re coated in sweat and grime but you’re freezing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Peter says from some faraway place.

You press against the wound just under your ribs, shuffling to the cluttered couch in the far corner of the living room. You fall onto it and shut your eyes.

There’s that pain from earlier. It’s hot, white lightning in your stomach. It makes you mean. “Fuck off-“

“Let me see it!”

“No, fuck off Pete!”

“You just want me to let you bleed out on the couch!?”

“Yes!”

Talking is too much right now. You can hear Peter’s mask drop onto the cluttered living room floor. Hear the soft thack thack thack that means he’s crawling on the ceiling.

Away from you, thank fuck.

You press your cheek against the jersey couch cover and try to ground yourself while your wound gains a heartbeat.

You really should’ve just let him get hit. Asshole. Truthfully, you’d rather die right here than have to explain why exactly you took a literal bullet for him.

It was all so embarrassing.

His back was turned, his reflexes delayed while he dealt with the rest of the villains of the week’s goons. You were too far away to get the gun away, and you could just tell, from the aim-

It might’ve killed him. Gotten into his spine. Paralyzed him in a way his dumb healing factor couldn’t fix.

Yes, he’d been shot before. Yes, he’d gone through worse. But what if this was the one time he wouldn’t heal? This split second, the moment the bullet left the chamber and burrowed under his skin-his life over, forever.

You couldn’t risk that.

So you jumped in the way.

His life was more important than yours, anyway. Everything Spiderman represented: hope, justice, protection, was worth more than anything you could do. That wasn’t the entire reason.

You couldn’t risk losing Peter. He was the only thing you had left, the only good thing. He was the only person in your life who didn’t think you were a freak or a monster.

He taught you how to be good. And if he were gone, your source of goodness would be gone with him.

At least if you died, it’d be martyrdom.

You can hear the thack, thack, thack return. It reverberates in your wound and between your ears. Pain, heat, pain.

He drops down in front of you, you can feel it through the cool air his descent leaves. He’s on his knees.

“Please,” he says.

“Can’t-”

He sighs, “Okay. This might hurt though. I’m gonna cut off this webbing, okay? It might peel off some skin so just-”

“Get on with it.”

Peter oh so gently peels your tacky, bloodied hands away from the wound. You’re locked in a fetal position from the pain, your knees up to your chest. You can feel the blood clotting though, a sign your much slower healing process is beginning.

Thank you, Goblin Formula.

It’s less painful and more irritating. The skin around the wound is tender and angry. Peter lets out a tense intake of air. It must look awful but you’re not gonna peek. You can handle blood and gore, just not your own.

“I’m cleaning the area now. It might sting,” You hate how his voice sounds so soft, so sweet, “You’ve stopped bleeding, but you’re gonna need stitches.”

You let out a pathetic whimper the moment the anti-septic touches your skin. You nearly arch up in pain. Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“That hurts!” You squirm, trying to get away from the source of the agony.

“I told you it would! Hold still!”

“Stop!”

You try to jerk away, but he holds your wrist. You open your eyes then, to glare at him. But he’s looking up at you, his brows furrowed and those hazel eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

The tenseness of his jaw says he’s angry. You’re familiar with his anger. But not the sadness. Not the fear that his eyes are showing you. You want to shut your eyes again, to get away from the onslaught of overwhelming emotions directed toward you.

His eyes move swiftly back to his work, “Just…just hold still okay? Stop squirming…”

And you do hold still. You make eye contact with the streetlight through the window. Because it’s easier than looking at him.

“I’m gonna sew you up now. You might want to hold onto a pillow or something. I promise…I’m not trying to hurt you. I’ll put on some numbing cream but you might still feel it…”

You nod stiffly. His hands are gentle on the flesh around the gash. You’ve thought about his hands a lot. How shapely they are. Beautifully made. And strong. You’ve felt them on your body before, but never in the way you envision. It almost hurts; this is how he touches you, only when you’re wounded.

The numbing cream doesn’t stop the feeling of your skin getting pulled. He’s pulling your skin together as if he made you. Like you’re a stuffed toy or his suit after it rips. At this you whimper, you squirm at the unnatural feeling. He waits for you to stop moving before he starts again.

This feels too intimate. Your blood is on him, the blood you lost trying to protect him. He’s putting you back together, taking care of you. His breath is on your skin, his warmth near you.

Life is unfair.

If you weren’t so broken, if you were softer, if you were more like the girls at the Bugle-maybe he would touch you when you weren’t bleeding out. Maybe he would look at you with something that wasn’t fear and anger.

You both sit in silence as he bandages the fresh stitches. He swallows.

“Do you…do you want me to wipe you down?”

“…Just bring me a washcloth.”

“…Y/N..”

“Please, just…don’t. Not right now.”

He brings the washcloth, a bowl of warm water, as well as your favorite pajama pants and one of his shirts. He’s brought you a pillow too, and some clean sheets.

He knows you. He knows you and it sickens you to your core.

Ultimately, it means nothing. Of course, he’s seen your behavior. He’s lived with you for months now.

But it still makes your heart stutter in your chest that he knows which pair to fish out of the pile on the bathroom floor. Understands without saying, you need to be alone.

“Yell if you need anything,” He says.

You nod stiffly. God, would he just leave you to suffer this embarrassment alone? You needed to stew in your bitter juices.

He looks at you one last time. And you know him just as he knows you. You can see on his face, the tenseness of his jaw, he wants to refuse.

You want him to stay.

He goes to the bedroom. Your gunshot wound isn’t the only thing aching.

You dream of him.

Those dark eyes on your body, his hands on your skin.

His pretty, soft lips on the ugly scarred parts of you. He makes them beautiful, makes them almost worth the pain that put them there if he just keeps lavishing them with kisses.

You can only imagine what his kisses feel like. What his hands feel like in your hair.

You love him. Fuck, you love him. You can admit that here, in the comfort of your brain. Here, you can press your fingertips into his shoulder blades. Feel the warmth of him pressed against your naked body.

You’ve thought about his cock often. You’ve felt it against you more than once. In the mornings, you felt it press aggressively, almost pleadingly, against your ass in that tiny twin bed you share. In the evenings, you imagined it in the grey sweats he wore around the house.

He thrusts in and out of you, slow and deep. His tongue swipes up your jaw and swirls around your ear.

“I love you,” He pants, “I love you so fucking much.”

He would never love you if he knew all that you’d done. You couldn’t even remember how many lives you took, how much blood you spilled.

You were a weapon. You were never taught lust or love. You never felt them, or their lack.

You’d never even thought about sex until you moved into his apartment and started sharing his bed. All you craved was skin, heat, and the soft intimacy of just holding each other. Then those urges gained an edge. A hunger grew in you that frightened you. It would gnaw its way through you if you’d let it.

You can’t say it back, but you don’t need to. He knows. In this reality, he knows. He knows and you know and all that matters is that you’re together. It’s safe and warm here.

Here is a bloodless place. A woundless place.

There’s no pull of stitches as he contorts your body into the position he needs you in. You’re so close. He has you on your knees, back arched. He reaches between your legs, rubbing at your clit in slow circles.

You make noises that you’d never make in real life. Your body betrays itself, and surrenders to the blinding pleasure.

You're gone, your knees locking, your head thrown back, and then-

It hurts. Dear fucking god, it hurts.

How the fuck did you manage to roll off the couch? During your sex dream, no less. And landed perfectly on your fresh wound.

“Ow.”

Your pride is what hurts the most. But the new irritation on your stitching sends waves of nausea through you. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. Allow yourself a few deep breaths.

You force yourself upwards and immediately regret it. It’s dizzying and fills your mouth with the runny vile you swallow.

So sexy. Very en vogue of you.

You move Peter’s shirt out of the way. Your flesh is irritated, and bright red from your unexpected trip to the floor. But the stitches held. Peter had stellar handiwork.

The morning sun peaks its head across the Brooklyn skyline. The only nice thing about this shit-hole apartment was the bay windows. It allowed for perfect post-patrol viewing, right on the floor.

You feel gross, despite your bird bath last night. You wonder where Peter is. You take a moment, more breathing, to rest against the couch leg.

You need a proper shower. Your hair is heavy with sweat and smells like soot.

At Oscorp, they would’ve laughed at your complaint. Correction, you would’ve never complained. You and your filthy hair were simply meant to serve a greater purpose. They’d give you a public shower with a sad, pale, foamy bar of generic soap and no hot water.

Figure it out yourself, Asset.

You weren’t an Asset anymore. You very gently touch your stitches again. Wince at the tenderness of the wound. You never felt anything before Peter. No pain, discomfort, hunger, or thirst.

After him, you are Human. Unfortunately, repugnantly, aggressively human. With limitations, with discomforts.

You miss the days of numbness. Peter brought out feelings you never wanted and were better off without.

You would give this man anything he wanted. You would do whatever he asked, no matter the price. It terrified you, this deep loyalty. It was as though your programming flipped, from the Osbournes and your handlers to Peter Parker and Spiderman.

You stand up on shaky legs. Finally, it seemed like the pain was abetting. Your stomach gurgling stabilized. Your feet pad across the hardwood, using autopilot.

You turn your head briefly. The bathroom was attached to the tiny bedroom you shared. The only small blessing that brought was confirming Peter was home, he was still bunched up under the covers. Judging by how early it was, he’d probably be asleep for another few hours.

You shut the door, careful to move it along its fickle framework. You slide your shirt off, gently place a waterproof bandage over your gash, and start the water.

Of course, you’d decide to make as much noise as possible right when he was getting to sleep.

He groaned, half-heartedly throwing his arm over his eyes.

You were okay though. You were alive.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, you almost died last night.

It all comes back to him, the memories stabbing into his brain like a million knives. God, you were being stupid, and reckless, like you didn’t care if you lived or died-

But you were okay now. You were alive, alive, alive. He could go into the bathroom right now, and you would be there.

It’s too late.

His body trembles. He bites down on his lower lip, trying not to cry out. He squeezes his eyes shut, but hot tears still burn down his cheeks. Shit, shit, shit. Waking up in a panic attack was common but not something he would ever get used to.

He digs the palms of his into his eyelids. His flesh was going against him, muscles tensing, chest tightening. His burning, screaming lungs weren’t getting any air. He just kept seeing your blood. On his hands, on the concrete, on your costume.

You could’ve died. You could’ve wound up in the ground. Just like his parents. Uncle Ben.

Gwen.

“Hey.”

His ears are filled with cotton. His hands are pried away from his eyes. Under the sheen of tears, he can see your blurry outline.

“Hey.” You repeat, pulling him toward you. Your skin is wet, your hair dripping onto his bare shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here, Pete. I got you.”

His hand finds its way into your wet hair, the other gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. His heart beats painfully against his ribs. If you weren’t a mutant, he would’ve crushed you instantly. He had forgotten his strength.

“Don’t do that again,” he pants into your hair, “I swear to God. I’m not worth that. I’m not-I can’t handle more blood on my hands, more sacrifices-”

“Peter, I’m not-”

“You’re all I have, it’s my job to protect you.”

You want to say that it’s the opposite, that it’s the least you can do, protect him.

You rub his back, trying to help soothe him through the episode. You did this. You started this. You gave him this episode because of your stupidity.

What feels like hours pass before calms fully. His body goes limp in your arms. He trusts you so much. He’s so vulnerable. It makes your stomach flip. It’s more than you deserve.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hm?”

“Your gunshot wound?”

“Oh. I fell on it this morning,” God, how embarrassing to admit that, “But it’s fine now. It’s starting to heal. Might need to take the stitches out early.”

His face stays pressed against your neck, his warm breath against your jugular.

You feel something press against your neck. Soft, unsure. Then again, a little more urgent, harder. Then again, moving up toward your ear. Leaving small, but not unpleasant tingles in their wake.

It takes your brain a moment to realize what’s happening. You freeze, every molecule in your body standing at attention.

When you’d heard the telltale whimpering coming from the doorway, you’d thrown on his bathrobe. It hadn’t occurred to you until this moment that you were very, very naked underneath.

He moves away from you when your body tenses.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Adrenaline.” You say. Do you want to believe that? No. You want to believe that Peter was kissing your neck because he desired you. But that wasn’t rational. “You were having an adrenaline rush, your mind was seeking comfort and I’m the closest warm body-“

“Do you think I see you that way? A warm body?”

His eyes are boring holes into yours. He knows you won’t answer truthfully, so you don’t waste your time answering.

It was how you were programmed to think. It was useless to fully go against your programming.

“If I lost you last night, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“That’s because it goes against your code of ethics. You want to protect humanity-“

He looks as though you’ve slapped him in the face, “Do you know why I wouldn’t let you go into SHIELD custody?”

You don’t.

“I could make up a lie and tell you it’s because you wouldn’t have been safe. I don’t trust SHIELD nor the Avengers but they would’ve kept you safe. I could say that I think you may be able to secure more information about my parents, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know all the answers. I’m not even sure if I want them anymore.”

“Stop, stop, don’t go any further-“

You don’t want to give yourself hope of what he might say. Of what he might do. Of any sort of future that would be dashed before your eyes once he knew what you were.

He grabs your wrists, “You are all I have. You’re all I want-“

“You don’t know what you’re asking for!”

He pins you down with your gathered wrists, his legs on either side of yours to keep you there. You’re belly up, your brain screaming to right yourself-your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s stronger than you, but only just barely. The bones in your wrist pop as you squirm.

“Get off me.”

“I love you.”

“No,” You hiss, “I won’t let you. I won’t allow it-“

His teeth hit your bottom lip, then scrape against your enamel, before his tongue unceremoniously slides into your mouth.

And you bite him.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but a warning nonetheless. It’s enough to startle him, enough for you to subdue him. For you to get him on his back, both of you panting hard.

Your robe is open far too much, your wound is stinging from exertion, but your mind is still in combat mode. Watching him watching you.

His eye lock on yours. The skin underneath them purple and still puffy. You can see the tackiness of dried tears on his cheek. The faint hint of a bruise on his hairline from the night before. His beard tentatively trying to grow back before he shaves it again.

That hunger is trying to stir again. You want to kill it. But it’s already made its way down. You’re pressed tightly against him.

You know he can feel you getting wet.

Your lip twitches. This was supposed to remain in your head. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. You were trying to protect him again. And again you were failing.

His cock gets semi hard underneath you and it really doesn’t help. A moan claws its way up your throat before you can cut it off.

“Fuck,” Peter says.

You don’t know how to initiate anything further. The soldier in you is confused. This goes against programming. Your body gets hot like the after effects of your wet dreams. Functionally, you know how this works. You know it feels good. But this is reality, not a dream.

It feels so much better than a dream.

You want to move. Not away, but toward. So you put your hands on Peter’s chest and move your hips, slightly, minutely.

“Oh m’god,” He breathes. His hands, his perfect hands, move to your hips. He’s so careful not to touch your wound that it hurts a little anyway. Like it’s trying to remind you who you are.

He guides you against his sweats, a little faster than your pace. Your clit is throbbing against this soft fabric and the hardness underneath it.

You want to tell him about the mess going on your head right now. Your horny confused brain, the hunger it feels. How this is fucked up and you should just get off. Not get off but get off of him. Fuck.

But all that came out were tiny desperate, embarrassing noises. You weren’t being seductive. To yourself, you sounded like a squeaky toy.

His hands move from your hips in the rob to your back, to your ass. He presses you down even harder. The jolt of wetness makes your face burn.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y…yes…”

Peter keeps you rooted there. You try to move again but he tsks, holds your sides again.

“Pete…”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your mind feels mushy. Your one singular goal moving out of reach. Your limbs suddenly feel too long, too shaky. Your cunt is throbbing, hole closing around nothing. There’s an ache, an emptiness so intense you think you might fall into it and die.

“Peter, please…” You don’t sound like yourself. You can’t even hear yourself. Your head is too full of blood.

You feel that firm pressure against your neck again. You lean into it instead. His arms wrap around you then and you feel so dizzy.

Chest to chest now, the robe somehow made its way down to your waist. Your nipples brush against his skin and how are you meant to keep calm? It’s too much, it’s all too much.

Your hips move without him telling you, without his help. Faster, sloppy, erratic. Your stomach hurts. There’s a tightness in your chest that needs release.

“There you go, baby. Look at me. Look at me.”

He’s in your ear. Tears prick up behind your eyelids. If you look at him, you’ll lose your nerve. If you don’t, he might stop you again.

You do look. His hand cups your face. His eyes are shimmering with the same hunger you feel. Only, his isn’t shameful. On him, it looks terrifying, but erotic.

“Let me kiss you,” He groans, “Properly…let me. Please.”

You nod frantically. You’d agree to anything, the depth of your desperation was so great. His tongue swipes against your lips. You’re mouth opens quickly. You don’t know how to kiss. You’ve only ever seen it in movies. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like electricity is running frantic under your skin like your lungs are shriveling up.

It’s not supposed to melt your brain, not supposed to turn your organs into liquid. Liquid that’s quickly running toward your pelvis. Fast, so fast. That ball in your chest unwinding with breakneck speed.

You cling to Peter’s sweating back, your fingers marking pretty purple-red spots along his shoulders. Your head jerks away from his.

Oh, God. Oh fucking, God. Too much. Too much. I can’t-

Peter presses back up against you. Your whole body quakes. You think you scream, you must scream. The force of your orgasm tears through you fast and without end.

Your body is still trembling when you come back down. You slump against Peter. His hands move over your body, petting your hair, rubbing your back.

“So good, baby. You did so good.”

“‘m sticky…”

He rumbles out a laugh, moving to lay you both on your sides. His sweats were a mess.

“You came in your pants,” you observe.

Another snort, “You were very hot. It would’ve been impossible not to.” He kisses you again, tongueless and sweet.

Something warm and sweet settles into your bones. Love. The physical feelings of love, belonging. Peter's fingers are gentle as he moves hair out of your face. He’s smiling and it feels like sunlight pouring on your face.

Maybe you do deserve this. Maybe it all doesn’t have to be rational.

“You wanna finish showering with me?”

You nod. His fingers intertwine with yours as he helps you up.

Maybe this could be good.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #spiderman smut #x reader smut

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absurdthirst · 8 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 30th

Day 30: Double Penetration, Hotdogging, Gape/Fisting

Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Mentions of anal, lubrication, anal stimulation, mentions of foursomes, dirty talk, fantasy talk, frottage, cum, anilingus, cunnilingus

**Hotdogging refers to the act of rubbing the penis between a partner's butt cheeks, but not penetrating the anus. This activity involves no penetration.**

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“You cozy, sugar?” Jack runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass in a long, loving stroke. “Need a pillow under your stomach? I want you to be comfortable.”

He’s eager, downright giddy to show you what this is. Hotdogging. Something that he had said would get you used to having someone touch you there, make you feel good even though the sensation isn’t what you would imagine.

“I’m good.” Your body is pliant, loose. Limbs almost heavy from the times that Jack had made you cum with his tongue, his fingers, his cock. Despite Ginger’s throwaway comments about his prowess, you had found him to be a very generous lover. His theory was, he was always going to cum, unless there was something seriously wrong. You, however, it was his duty to make you feel good and duty was something that Agent Whiskey of Statesman Intelligence Agency took very seriously. “You aren’t going to put it in, are you?”

That was probably your biggest fear. You’ve heard horror stories from other girls about guys who just stuck it in. They had said it was really, really painful. You don’t want your first experience with anal to be screaming bloody murder.

“Not even the tip.” Jack promises. “I would slip in that little plug I bought you, but I want you to feel my cock rubbing against you.

He had a plan. Mapped out for your approval, on how to introduce you to these pleasures. He was going to rub his cock through the cheeks of your ass, basically jerking himself off like that, something similar to thigh fucking, to get you used to having him there, so you don’t try to stiffen up on him. Then he would finger your ass, use a plug or beads, ect. Working you up to where you are begging him to fuck you anally.

“I got that warming lube.” Jack leans down and kisses one ass cheek before biting it playful and swinging his leg over yours to straddle you. “None of that cold shit for my girl.”

There’s a touch of pride in his voice, and you almost instinctively stick your ass up. Cunt clenching as you think about him sliding that hard, thick cock into your pussy, even though his cock is still wet from your cum. Addicted to his cock might actually be a thing.

Chuckling to himself, he grabs the lube and spreads your cheeks apart to stare at the little puckered hole. Groaning when he sees you clench and imagines how tight it will be. He’s gonna make you love it. Make you want every kind of sex with him that you can have. So fucking grateful that he’s found a girl so willing to experiment.

The lube is already warm on his fingers, Taking his time as he smears it between your cheeks enough to slick you up. Knowing that your cheeks aren’t going to gush like your little pussy does for him.

Leaning over you more after tossing the lube down, Jack kisses your shoulder blade. “Gonna show you the world, sugar.” He promises, taking his cock in his hand and just above where he would position to slide into you, he starts to push through your cheeks slowly.

To say it’s weird would be an understatement. It’s not something you are used to feeling, his thick cock rubbing though your cheeks, but it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel bad. It’s odd, but your ass lifts and he groans, stopping his hips immediately.

“Don’t do that, sugar.” He hisses. “Could accidentally poke it in and you aren’t ready.”

Biting your lip, you nod, showing him you understand and drop your hips back down. You’ll have to stay still for this, somehow.

Jack stays on his knees behind you, pushing your ass cheeks together tightly and pushing them down a bit. Making sure that he has plenty of room to pull back before he could hurt you if the angle changed. Groaning at how good it feels, the underside of his cock scrubbing against your little hole.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty.” He huffs, “Gonna be my little dirty girl, sugar?” He twitches as he rock his hips, the lube keeping his thrusts nice and smooth. “Let me debauch you every way I can?”

He enjoys the dirty talk, always has, and when he’s thrusting against some parts of your body, the filthiest ideas come to mind.

“Gonna get Tequila and Rum in here one day to share you.” He pants, knowing that he would never do that. He’s not good at sharing a woman, and he would never share you. It’s just a dirty little fantasy that you both enjoy.

You moan softly and he chuckles. “You like that, don’t cha?” He teases, watching as the head of his cock slips out on the other side of your ass cheeks, pushing through your crack. “Maybe I’ll let Rum suck on your tits and Tequila can lick your pussy while I fuck your ass. Would you like that, sugar?” He leans down and drops kisses along your back. “Work you up to fittin’ three cocks inside your holes while you whimper and whine like a good girl for us.”

Jack has never done threesomes, and you both admitted that you wouldn’t like it in practice, but pretend is never a bad option. Your moan makes him grin, head turned and pressed to the sheets. “Yes.” You agree quickly. “Let all three of you fuck me full. Fuck my thighs, like- like you are now. My tits.” You pant out. “Cover me in your cum too.”

He groans, twitching again as he imagines it. “You’d be our little slut? Let us use you?” He asks, continuing to rock his hips and he feels the way that your little hole has started to pulse, knowing your cunt is tightening down too. You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would.

“Fuck Jack.” you whimper, closing your eyes. “You know I will do anything you want.” You promise breathlessly. Ironic since you had hard limits, but it’s fantasy.

“Good girl.” He grunts. “Letting me rock my cock against that little hole. Imagining pushing inside you. Feeling you clench down around me. It’s gonna be so sweet. You’re gonna love it.”

You hum, gripping the sheets as you imagine him fucking you like that. Experiencing something new with him. Because of him. Your life is so different from what you imagined because of one crazy cowboy sliding into your life like he’s sliding his cock against your hole. “You gonna cum, Jack?” You ask. “You gonna cum on my back? Or are you gonna slide inside my pussy to cum.”

Jack groans again, twitching again as he steadily thrusts into your push together cheeks. You aren’t tensing up in fear, you’re trying to rock back. Obviously enjoying yourself or just enjoying working him up. “Cum on- on your back.” He groans. “Then I’m gonna tongue fuck your little pussy and that hole.” He promises. “Make you cum again.”

He’s never pressed his tongue against your asshole, but the idea doesn’t sound so bad right now, making you moan. “Whatever you want.” You huff in agreement.

“Good girl, fuck, you’re so good to me.” Jack moans. “Letting me do this. Wanting to have me shove my cock into every hole you have and claiming it, claiming you.” He’s possessive, but he always makes you feel good. Even if it’s just using the things that he knows works for you.

“Cum, Jack.” You whine, pushing your hips up slightly and enjoying the way his fingers dig into the meat of your ass. “Want you to eat me out again.”

He chuckles breathlessly, ramping up his thrusts as he tries to comply. “It feel good, sugar? I bet that little pussy is drippin’ right now, soakin’ the sheets under you.”

You moan, nodding. “I need, next time, I want a toy inside.” You gasp out, making him twitch even more at the idea of making this a thing. Adding this to the filthy, non penetrative things you can do. There are times you want to cum, but you don’t want his dick inside you. He completely understands and was delighted making you cum but rubbing your clit with his cock the other month. It’s what gave him the idea to do this.

“I’m gonna cum, sugar.” He pants. “Gonna paint your pretty skin with my cum and let it drip while I lick you.” He presses down on your hips, dropping his own as he starts to quickly fuck through the little crevice your cheek make around his cock. Desperate to cum now. “You want that?”

“Yessssss.” You hiss, feeling the way his pace is stuttering and knowing that he’s close. Despite not being able to cum like this, you love the way it feels, how it makes you want to beg him to just shove his cock into your ass.

Jack’s pace falters and he starts to groan, rocking his hips shallowly as his cum starts to spurt onto your lower back. Thick, hot jets of it splattering on your skin while he rocks through his high. Groaning your name sexily.

You moan at the feeling, about to make a comment about how Jack can cum anywhere, when he’s pulling away. Making your eyes pop open in confusion until he’s grabbing your hips and dragging them up. His tongue diving into the crack of your ass to probe your hole greedily before sliding down to your cunt.

“Oh, oh fuck, Jaaaaaack.” your eyes close again, moaning over how good it feels, even as his cum starts to cool on your skin. Hotdogging had been interesting, but you much prefer the eagerness of this cowboy’s mouth.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfiction #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you

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mukuberry · 5 months

Text

Trial 3 cover song wishlist

With trial 2 basically done, I want to make my last wishlist for covers... these aren't predictions because Deco hates me and won't let me be happy ever ^u^ there's quite a few songs I wanna see be covered but since we'll only get one per character, I've forced myself to just choose one each....

youtube

Haruka - Relationship Scramble

You know, we'll end up love's prisoners, hurt each other,

And say farewell no matter what, right?

In that case, isn't the right answer the twisted one?

What a pain! This pain is so great it's lingering even now.

Searching for legitimacy

Cost me so much that I fell apart.

youtube

Yuno - Rabbit Hole

If you get lonely, find anybody, just get lucky

I loathed to love but it gave me life, gonna be a smitten mitten till the day you die?

So why don't you kiss up and shake your cottontail?

A bad dance, why don't you drown in it?

Fake out! I like you! Ugh, can't take it

youtube

Fuuta - Chimera

Oh, 1 like, 2 likes...

Your face is like a wolf in sheep's clothing

But watch your step, the evaluation is using a point deduction system

Don't be greedy or you'll drown in poison

Wow! 100 likes, 1k likes!

Your face looks like you're trying to suppress your ego

youtube

Muu - Theory Of Negativity

It's not like you'd ever understand, so I'll just keep my mouth shut and make a fool of you

As long as people have secrets to hide, I'm invincible

I can be a good girl through the tears I shed

"Shall I just die"- even while making wishes like this,

I accidentally said "I want to live"

youtube

Shidou - Ghost Rule

No statute of limitations for my crime,

Robbed of forgiveness for that thievery of mine,

Things don't look any better today,

Unable to keep up this deception the way I'd hoped

Slowly lapsing in depravity

I hardly realise what has already become rotten

youtube

Mahiru - Cosmic Rendezvous

I wanna dance with you, forever, I wanna poke fun and play, forever

This sucks so bad, this countdown to bye-bye, not long until it runs out, fuck

Hey, take me with you to the other side, "together forever" like on a playground, laugh around

But seriously, what's up with my wish not coming true, fuck

youtube

Kazui - We The Hostages

I can't drag you along. I can't drag you along, so let's say goodbye.

No matter how much you love me, all I do is get itchy

So give me back the version of me that you own

The memories you want to forget are hostages

So you have to be prepared to kill them at any moment.

I knew too much, so I wish to forget

I only like your exterior. After all, I want to make you my servant

youtube

Amane - Poison Apple

You make me laugh with your "sorry", serves you right, always self-centered

On a different note, your tear-stained face, it kinda tickles me the right way

No more, not any more, you really should stop.

No more, not any more, I'd get so ripe, I just can't

Poison check that love, mmm tasty, yummy

Spine shivering sweetness, I wanna feel it, I can't forget that flavour

youtube

Mikoto - Nocturnal Kids

I want to sleep but I won't- today is still all right.

Though we've transmitted our voices to each other over and over again, and it's lasted so long,

Let's stop. Let's run away. It's okay.

You can sleep now. I'll protect you diligently, after all.

Let's say "good morning" and make it "today" again.

youtube

Kotoko - 118

Not to mention, the fact that you don't even seem to feel any remorse for your actions is just so pathetic

My iron heart has already been melted down and broken

From all the love and affection that was jammed into it

Hearing the words "I love you" just makes me hate you

Where has our happiness been hidden away?

#milgram #NOT HAPPY WITH SHIDOU. hate him but i can't think of any other song he'd cover....#i can think of so many for miko but ill never stop pushing for Nocturnal kids. sorry #also kazui. but i gotta choose only one sadge #be warned I'll change my mind on all of these in a month #all the lyrics i got from the vocaloidlyrics wiki btw :3

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heyidkyay · 1 year

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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Sixteen

A/n: Heyo:) Sorry for the lack on updates, been proper sick:// But hoping you enjoy this next bit! Also recommend rereading the last section of the part 15!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Angst, just yeah...

Masterlist

“Maybe it’d be best if you two take a walk, yeah?”

I inhaled sharply at Ross’s words and tried not to grimace at the fire that ripped through my torso as I did so. Ross’s eyes darted back towards the fort for a very brief second and, even though I could barely form a coherent thought, I grasped what he was seemingly trying to avoid here.

And I had to agree with him, so I tugged my dressing gown tighter around the t-shirt I currently wore beneath and glanced up with a tiny smile when Ross took my uninjured arm in his and helped me into my slippers.

“You gonna be alright?” He asked me discreetly, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

I swallowed and casted a cautious look over towards George, who hadn't moved an inch from where he stood near the doorway. I took in his peaky expression and shifty eyes but ultimately gave Ross a small dip of my head.

“Just, make sure Matty stays here, yeah?” I told him quietly, turning my face away, “And if Lee pops by, can you just tell him-”

I stopped myself abruptly and was quick to shake my head, thinking better of telling Ross that I’d yet to take my morning medication. They could wait a while longer, I could deal with the pain a little while longer.

“What?” Ross prompted me but I just shook my head again, waving his worries off.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Ross’s expression tightened slightly but he didn't push me further on the subject, simply dipped his chin and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of my head when he pulled me into a hug.

I practically felt the chilly glare he sent George from over me, as if warning him not to fuck up anymore than he already had. And so I just patted the bassist’s shoulder softly when we parted ways and gifted him a small but grateful smile.

As I turned back towards the door I tried to walk a little quicker than I had been as of late- mostly to appease George- but that was quickly cut short due to the splintering sting that rippled up my spine.

Alright then. Fucking hell, I've got it! No more of that then.

It'd been a stupid move anyway.

I huffed inwardly at the thought and made it a point to ignore the worried gaze George casted me at the grimace I must’ve been making, his eyes bleeding into the side of my head as I stepped through the door, walking at a much more sedate pace now- even if it still killed.

I heard Ross mutter something shortly to him under his breath just before the latter followed me out, but with my ear still the way it was I couldn’t quite make out what it’d been.

I wanted to scream a little in that moment and the feeling only escalated when I found myself stuck with George, who looked almost as worse for ware as I did, in the ward’s silent hallway. Apparently it was still rather early and the nurses had yet to even switch shifts.

I made a small noise in the back of my throat, mainly to break the tense quiet we’d been living in but also because it was as close to an actual cough as I was going to get this morning. I’d already resigned myself to it, in fact. The pain so far was utter torture- as I'd typically come to expect each morning now- and I only hoped that it ebbed sooner rather than later, but I supposed that’s why I wandered a bit away from my room and over into the next hallway so that I could take a seat.

Sitting was a whole lot easier.

George turned the corner just as I collapsed into the cushioned bench which rested against a yellow wall and looked out at a larger pane of glass. He doddled there for a moment before he finally hiked up his metaphorical trousers and braved sitting beside me.

I would’ve rolled my eyes at him then but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his face. The dark shadows, his scattered stubble, those chapped lips.

He looked like shit, to be honest. And I told him so.

“You look like shit.”

George’s eyes darted away from where they’d been glued to the window and over towards me, I heard the audible sound of his swallow before his gaze skittered away again, he merely shrugged in reply.

I clenched my jaw. Was this really what I'd waited over a week for?

“Almost as bad as me.” I added in hopes to get some sort of a rise out of him. He had yet to utter a single word, even when Ross had been stood there with us. “Smell a bit too, I reckon. When’s the last time you had a shower?”

His dark eyes, only made darker by the blueish hue sat beneath them, narrowed a tad.

Still didn’t fucking answer me though, did he?

“You going to, I don’t know, say something?” I gritted out with a glare of my own. That anger and upset I’d been feeling for days on end now pooling in my heart before it finally flooded my chest. “Maybe give me an answer to where the actual fuck you’ve been this past week… Let me in on what could’ve been so important that you didn’t even have the time to shoot me a text to ask if I was still alright- alive even.”

George’s stare didn’t diver. He kept his hands completely still. But I saw the slight twitch in his neck.

In truth, I really could’ve fucking screamed then.

“George.” I said, watching him.

“George.” I called again, sharper.

“George!” I all but shouted as I leant in closer.

And when he finally answered me his voice was a dry rasp, either from disuse or a prior screaming match I hadn’t been made aware of. But I didn’t make it a point to ask.

“What?”

I almost laughed at his one word answer. But I was too shocked.

“What?” I scoffed at him instead, “What the fuck do you mean, what?”

He made a face, and oh God, fuck the screaming I wanted to smack him over the head. He still wouldn't even spare me the curtesy of a mere glance.

“Are you having me on?” I bit out, irritated now.

“The fuck do you want me to say, Y/n?” George grunted at me before I watched his head fall lazily into his hands, harsh fingers pressed into either temple. The skin on them was what caught my eye though, all cut up and torn, his knuckles bruised too.

“Well, first you can tell me what happened to your hands.” I replied, squinting a bit to get a good look just as he ripped them from view. He went back to staring out the window again and I huffed. “Alright, can you can tell me where the hell you’ve been then, Mike Tyson?”

He didn’t answer me, just chewed on the insides of his cheeks.

In pain and questioning why he had even bothered to show if he was just going to give me the cold shoulder, I could only sigh as I slumped further against the wall.

If I angled my back a certain way my ribs usually didn’t act up, but even then, I had to be very careful- knowing my luck, I’d puncture a lung or something simply by moving.

I couldn't really guess as to how much time passed by with the two of us just sat there. Him burning a hole into the window’s thick glass and me only growing more nauseous by the second. But the sun had almost risen and the pain I felt had almost doubled.

I found myself desperately wishing that I'd just taken my fucking meds.

I was tired. Tired of hurting all the time. Tired of waiting around. Tired of fighting with George. With the world, really. It was just one thing after the other with me. Always had been.

And besides, I think I had more than enough reasons to be tired. Wasn't as though I was giving up though, was it? Not just yet.

With a small huff, I let my eyes slip close as I attempted to gather my thoughts, trying my hardest to ignore the current agony I was in. I had to get back to the room before Lee did, or worse, before Matty woke up and came looking for me…

But having just had that thought, I supposed it would be that exact moment in which George decided he had something to say. Because why wouldn’t he?

I gave an internal sigh at the sound of his voice and lolled my head against the wall towards him, peering through lidded eyes.

“I’m being a right cunt, I know that.” He muttered to me, still staring away. And God, if that wasn't the truth... “But I just don’t know what to say to you, alright? How I meant to act.”

Exasperated I tried to keep a level-head. Even though I wanted to fucking wring the idiot's neck, I could sort of understand where he was coming from. If it'd been him, I don’t know what sort of mess I’d have been in. Though, I would quite like to hope that I wouldn’t have immediately gone off the grid and done a vanishing act. I had a little more composure.

“Like you usually would, please?” Was the reply I settled on, my voice quiet to keep from straining myself much further. “I mean, everyone's been so off with me since…”

George winced, but I didn’t question his reaction. I knew why, he’d seen the accident happen, or so I assumed. And it probably wasn’t something a person wanted to relive, whether it’d been a complete stranger that had been hit, or someone that close to you.

It also felt a little weird talking about it right then. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to or… maybe it was because I didn’t want to talk about it with him. I didn’t want to have his pity, or even his disregard. I wasn’t too sure. But either way, I wanted to just forget it all. Right then, I just wanted to forget.

All of a sudden I hissed and my hand abruptly flew up to cradle my side whilst I struggled to keep the rest of my body absolutely still. My chin was now high up in the air and my jaw was tightened by the bite of my grinding teeth. I didn’t dare make another sound.

“Y/n? Y/n?” I heard George call out, but my eyes were already wound tightly shut, squinted in my torment to keep the room from spinning anymore than it already was. “Birdie? Babe, come on, what’s wrong?”

The pain I’d been feeling since having left my room grew so suddenly in that next moment, it radiated across the length of my torso and pulsed wickedly in my veins. It honestly felt like my blood was on fire, burning and blazing its way under my skin and destroying what little else it could of me. I was desperate to cry out, to bargain a plea, but I was too terrified to even breathe. Let alone speak.

“Birdie?” George’s voice stressed, now taking on a higher pitch, worry and anguish worming its way into his tone. I felt his presence right there beside me, the way his hands must’ve been reaching out to help me but too scared to actually touch.

He was in a frenzy, confused and bewildered. I wanted to tell him I was okay, but we didn't lie. Or we weren’t supposed to. So I kept quiet and bit down on my tongue.

“Nurse? Anyone?" He called out helplessly just before a fist pounded on the wall above me. "Fucking hell, we need some help here!”

I think that was just about the time I passed out.

—

“Are you shitting me? Or are you that much of a twat?”

I frowned at what could’ve only been Matty’s voice, shifting slightly in the darkness that now surrounded me.

“Oh piss off, would you? It’s not like I meant for it to happen!”

And that was definitely George. Guess, he’d stuck around then.

I wanted to open up my eyes, find out what had happened. But there was also a much bigger part of me that still felt a little out of it and was intrigued to see how this would play out without my interference.

“Maybe you two should keep it down, hey?”

“Shut up, Ross. Why the fuck did you bring him here in the first place?” Matty snapped back at Ross’s softer tone of negotiation, and I could hear the anger that fuelled him. It made me wonder what’d gotten him so worked up. “He’s been MI-fucking-A this past week, doing God only knows what! And you’ve just let him swan right back on in here without an explanation for any of it.”

“Well, I didn’t think it’d turn out like this, mate.”

Matty spluttered. “What did you think would happen?”

“Not this!” Ross retorted hastily, “Besides, we all wanted him here. I was just the one to drag him in.”

George had to be dragged here to see me? I mean, thanks to Ross and all- him carrying the ginormous twat in surely must’ve been a right sight- but what the fuck?

“Yeah, I wanted him here- days ago! But he was nowhere to be fucking found then, was he? Just pissin' it up and ignoring the lot of us- ignoring her, whilst she laid in a fucking hospital bed!”

Matty seemed to pause then and I heard a slight scuffle from the right side of the room. “Matty…” Ross warned, but evidently Matty hadn't appeared to have even heard him.

“She was in a coma, you know that? A coma, George.” His voice was like thunder, a total contrast to that of his usual lilt and I found it much harder to keep pretending I was still asleep. “As in, we weren’t sure when she’d wake up, if she ever would. It was touch and go for too fucking long and where the hell were you, G? Nowhere to be found when we had doctors and all sorts in here, day and night, just checking that she was doin' alright, to make sure that she wouldn’t crash again.”

There was a brief pause and the room suddenly felt so stilted. Even I startled at the admission.

“Crash?” Came George’s strained voice.

Matty simply scoffed at him. “You wouldn’t know nowt about that though- ran off before the ambulance could even pull away, didn't you G? But what a fucking guy! The best, our George! Gone before they could even give his missus a sodding hospital gown! Give him a round of applause everybody for doing absolutely fuck all!”

“Fuck you.” George spat right back at him.

I found then that I didn’t really want to hear much more.

“You lot just about done?” I questioned quietly as I sat up further in my bed, wincing when I found myself reattached to the IV I’d lost a couple days ago now. “What even happened?”

Matty was the first to rush towards my bedside. “You alright, love?” He asked me, eyes scanning and checking me over for any signs of discomfort. I rolled my own, but not unkindly.

“Peachy, Nightingale.” I replied cheekily, which made him crack a small, very tiny smile. His previous anger mollified and replaced by an immediate worry. Matty was now in full fretting mother-mode it seemed. “How is my favourite nurse anyway?” I quizzed, throat dry.

It was his go to roll his eyes at me then, but he was especially cautious when he took perch on the side of my bed. Though he tried not to make it too obvious.

“Peachy.” Matty mimicked me just as his fingers met my casted hand. “Gave us a bit of a scare though, dickhead. What were you playing at?”

I huffed at him and proceeded to ignore the question, instead gave the room’s two remaining occupants a quick glance. “Ross, will you tell me what happened?”

Matty went to answer the question but the look I gave him quickly shut him right back down, when I turned back towards the bearded giant I noticed him wearing an amused smirk.

“Pushed yourself too fucking hard.” Ross told me simply, his arms crossed over his chest where he leant against the windowsill. “Or in medical terms, you overexerted yourself, mate. Forgot your meds, didn’t you? Ended up feinting like a big wuss and pulling some stitches as you went down.”

My mouth pressed together as I internalised the information. But apparently that hadn’t been the end of it.

“Erm Lee also mentioned that they wanted to keep an eye on your blood pressure and hydration levels too.” Matty added in a know-it-all sort of way. “’S why you’ve got the drip again, darling.”

“Right.” My gaze skitted over towards the far corner then, to where George was still stood apparently. “Stuck ‘round this time then?” I couldn’t help but ask and the look of surprise that flashed across his face only gave me a very brief feeling of satisfaction.

Sadly, he didn’t offer me a reply. But that was also when Hann decided to make an appearance.

“The fuck’s gone on?” He immediately asked us all as he bulldozed through the door, appearing half flustered but mostly just agitated. “I had the hospital on the phone, telling me how your vitals have rapidly depleted and that I should probably get down here. Only to then see Lee in the lift on the way up and have him give me the rundown on what utter idiots the rest of you have been. I mean…”

Adam’s fatherly rant came to an abrupt end at the sight of George. And I guessed that Lee hadn’t filled him in on everything then. Though, that nurse and I would soon be having words.

“Why are you here?” Hann questioned George and I honestly think that it was the first time I’d ever seen Adam both so utterly bewildered and furious at the same time. He was typically so well-spoken, so levelheaded, but then, well let’s just say I’d hate to have been George in that current moment. “Well?”

“Came along with me this morning.” Ross stepped in to inform Adam as he kicked away from the wall to almost stand between the two bandmates. George just kept on staring straight at Hann though, unable to look away from the brunt of Adam’s full-focus.

“Weren’t asking you.”

Matty and I shared a wide-eyed look at Hann’s sharp quip, and I didn't dare intervene. Matty though...

“Um, Hann mate?”

But his attempt was cut short by the hand Hann held up to him, eyes still honed in on George.

I would’ve laughed, I really should’ve, but I’d been so shocked by it. It seemed like Matty was sailing in a similar boat.

“I think I asked you a question.” Hann spoke and everything seemed to dull then, as though it was only him and George left in the room.

George’s jaded eyes divered between Adam’s green iris's, left right left. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, a tell that let me know he was nervous.

“Got a lift with Ross, didn't I.” Was what he decided on, but to Hann it’d been the wrong answer.

“I didn’t ask how you got here, George. I asked why you were here.”

A silence dragged between the five of us then, Hann had taken a small step forward and Ross seemed to tense at it. But George did nothing, not until his eyes fleetingly skidded over towards where I was laying. That’d seemingly been another wrong move on his part.

Adam all but jumped to shield me from his view and I felt my own eyes widen at his next words.

“Don’t, mate. I just wouldn’t.”

“Don’t what?” George prodded, eyes hard all of a sudden, and he clenched his jaw as he shifted closer. “Come on, Hann. Don’t what, mate- look at her? What, is that not allowed now?”

Matty’s hand squeezed the pads of my fingertips, but neither of us, nor Ross dared say a thing.

“Yeah. Exactly that, actually. Why should you even be allowed in this room? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you’ve done nothing to warrant you even being here.” Hann ridiculed, and we all heard the blatant venom in his words.

Adam and I, we’d always been friends, close but not as close as me and the rest of the boys. We were just an awful lot alike whilst simultaneously being a total contrast to one another. It was a strange concept, yeah, but that was just how it’d always been.

Growing up, Adam had never really had much to say, to share. He’d come from a good family, did well in school, never got into much trouble, done alright with the girls. But he'd never liked drama, and me, I had drama woven into my DNA.

That’s why it was such a shock to have him, out of everyone, stand up for me. Especially like this. He was all fired up, exhausted and irritated, and clearly so done with George's bullshit, it seemed.

“Piss off, Adam.” George grunted with a shake of his head and a scowl. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to see her.”

“Why? Why then do you get to just waltz back on in here after everything, ey?” Hann retorted, angling his head to further his point. “Oh, is it ‘cause you were the one who phoned the paramedics? Wait no, sorry, that weren’t you, was it? My bad, mate. But oh, you were definitely the one who jumped in the back of that ambulance, right? Ah, shit! No, that wasn’t you either.”

Adam pivoted just enough to gesture over his shoulder towards us, his eyes still trained on George even as he directed his next question to Matty.

“Matt, who was the first one down here when we got the news? No actually wait, out of everyone, which one of us never left her bedside?”

Matty looked a whole lot more lost than he had a second ago, mouth agape slightly and alert eyes darting back and forth between the four of us whilst he struggled to find a suitable reply for Hann, “Me?”

Adam gave a strong nod.

“Thought so, and who was it that fought all the nurses for information when she was in surgery?”

Matty blinked at him, “Um, me.”

“Right.” Hann pressed his lips together, “And who got us in here to see her even when we were told it wasn’t possible? Had to be the same twat that almost got themselves thrown out ‘cause they wouldn’t leave her by herself those first few nights, right? Who slept by her bed, night and day. Who had to watch her fight for her life. Who witnessed her seizing and code, again and again.” Adam looked over at us then, “Who was that, Matty?”

I squeezed Matty’s fingers as best I could, tears blurring my vision and stinging my eyes. I didn’t know how else to react, I hadn’t been told half of this.

“Me.” Matty choked out.

And then Adam turned away from us and shrugged once at George. “Where were you?”

George said nothing, though his eyes were glossy and his face betrayed every emotion he felt.

“Where were you!” Hann all but shouted at him, and even Ross couldn’t come to George’s defence.

I’d never seen someone look so defeated. So wounded. I wanted to reach out and tell him it was okay, that it would be soon. But they wouldn’t, would they?

He’d messed up, bad. And he’d not only hurt me, but the guys as well. It was a scary thought to be reminded of how highly they all seemed to hold me, that they would call out one of their own for me. If the roles had been reversed I knew that I’d act the same, but to have proof of their loyalty, their love… That was something I knew that I would never find again. They weren’t just my people, they were my family.

Only, now I didn’t quite know where I stood with George.

And it hurt. He’d hurt me more than any car ever could’ve by not being here. By having left me when I needed him the most.

But there had to have been a reason for it. For all of it. There had to have been. Because George, my George he only did what was best for me, even if it’d ripped him in two. And the look on his face, the tears that he wouldn’t let fall as I observed closely him from the other side of my hospital room… That look told me that he had a reason. A reason for all of this.

And I was stubborn enough to also believe that I’d get it out of him. One way or another. He’d tell me everything and we’d make things right again.

Because we had to. Because he was my George and I was his Birdie.

There was no other way this could work out. Right?

Part seventeen>

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emeriethevalkyriegirl · 4 months

Text

Carving away the nightmares- (Hazbin Hotel tickle fanfic)

A/N: How many of these have I written so far? Only 2? Well what can I say, I LOVE THESE TWO! Time for part 3 everyone! ENJOY YOU LOVELY SINNERS!

Summary: Charlie has a bad dream so she rushes to her father's room looking for comfort. She gets more than what she bargained for. (in a good way)

Lucifer groaned when he heard his door burst open from his room. It was past midnight and he had just climbed into bed. After working on the latest duckling, he'd only wanted one thing in the world. To sleep for at least an hour. He knew that another meeting was calling to him really soon and his sleeping schedule was jacked with having to watch Charlie after....Lilith.

No. He wasn't gonna think like that. If Lilith wanted to leave, that's fine. He just hated that she left without a trace or the fact that he was left to pick up the peaces with his daughter. Not that she ever cared to check on them.

Now, Lucifer was taking care of Charlie himself. He didn't mind. He loved his daughter. However, there were times that he'd have to put his foot down with her. He didn't want this time to be one of them, but his grumpiness combined with his tired head was making it difficult. The fallen angel already knew that Charlie was the one that stormed into his room. No other servant dared to do it without permission.

"Charlie, I love you my little apple, but if you don't go back to bed this instant-Oof!" Lucifer was cut off as he felt his daughter wrapping her arms around his neck and felt silent sniffles along his blazer that he unfortunately slept in.

All the anger that threaten to take form had disappeared, his daughter's sadness completely taking over his parental vision. "Woah woah, hey Charlie-lee-lee. What's wrong honey apple?" he asked as Charlie cried in his blazer. "I-I had a b-b-bad dream!"

"You did?! Oh, baby c'mere." Lucifer replied, his arms now cradling his little princess. The King of Hell began slowly rock his daughter, saying comforting words to stop her crying. It wasn't until he finished singing a soft lullaby that the crying had finally stopped. Lucifer expected the song to put her to sleep, but Charlie was still very much awake. Though, her tears have dried. "You wanna talk about it, LeeLee?" he asked softly, using his little nickname for her.

Charlie sniffed and rubbed her nose. "A-Angels were c-coming to get us." Lucifer felt a chill down his spine but allowed his daughter to continue. "You were fighting them. You told me to hide and said that you'd find me....b-but you n-never did!" Lucifer could sense that his daughter's cries were about to continue, so he gently shushed her while giving her a kiss on her forehead. "Sweetie, that is never going to happen. You know why?"

"W-Why?" Charlie asked as Lucifer wiped away her tears. "Cause no matter what happens, I'm always gonna be there for you." Charlie gave him a tiny smile at his words. Lucifer raised his brow at that, wanting his daughter to not feel any more pain for that horrible nightmare. "Plus," he started before surprising Charlie by tossing her in the air and catching her with ease. Charlie squealed and giggled once her father's hands reconnected with her petit body. "It's gonna take a lot more than an army of angels to take daddy out." Charlie giggled more, her tiny hands covering her mouth. "Really?"

"Uh, like duh." Lucifer replied earning another giggle from his daughter. "I would blast those angels to oblivion. Going all 'pow pow pow ka-boom'!" Lucifer said, mimicking sound effects while also wiggling his fingers along Charlie's sides every time he said a sound effect. The princess laughed trying to swat away her father's sneaky hands.

"Oh oh and then one angels swoops in and I go, 'Hey betcha didn't see this coming.' And then I..." Lucifer purposely trailed off for a dramatic effect before swooping down to plant love bites all over Charlie's neck. Charlie balked as she felt her father's love bites. "Dahahahahahahahaddy!"

"And then, the real fun begins." Lucifer says as he booped Charlie's nose and summoned all 6 of his wings and engulfed both him and Charlie inside a little bubble. Lucifer smirked giving Charlie a kiss on her cheek before he covered up his eyes. "Just when the angels think they've won, daddy's gonna hide in plain sight and pull off a super scary face to scare them back to Heaven." Charlie couldn't respond because on of Lucifer's wings was tickling her feet. Only the sound of Charlie's giggling allowed Lucifer to know that Charlie was still there. "And it looks like...this!"

Lucifer uncovered his face, crossing his eyes, making a fake pouty face, and sticking his tongue out as the cherry on top. Charlie's laughter went up an octave as she stared at her father's silly face. "Thahahahahahahahat's silly ehehehehehehehe daddy ehehehehehehehehehe!!" Lucifer couldn't help but chuckle himself but he wasn't done yet. The fallen angel covered his face again. "Where's daddy Charlie? Where is he?" he didn't get answer for Charlie was still giggling her head off, the wing now making it way to her toes. "Peekaboo!" The fallen angel declared, uncovering his face to find his happy bubbly daughter still giggling her head off.

This gesture went on for a while until the King of Hell covered his eyes once more. "Where's daddy?" Again he asked but this time, he didn't immediately reveal himself just yet. He unlashed the wing that was tickling Charlie's toes and allowed her to breathe for a moment. Charlie rolled over and crawled her way over to her father, even going as far as climbing on him so she was at eye level with him. "Daddy, come out!" she giggled as she pulled on one of his fingers. A moment later, noting happened until- "Peekaboo!"

"AH!" Charlie let out a cute squeak as Lucifer lashed onto her and toss her in the air again. "I gotcha, I gotcha!" he chanted as he watched his daughter completely lose it in his grasp. Lucifer held his daughter in a tight embrace as he gave her a kiss on her forehead. Charlie unexpected repeated the gesture, kissing her father under his chin. Lucifer blushed at his daughter's affection but before he could thank her, his little apple gave out a very tired yawn. Lucifer chuckled. "Bed time Charlie."

"Daddy." Charlie said before Lucifer could get up to take her to her room. "Can I sleep with you? Please?" Charlie gave him her please eyes. Lucifer's blush refused to falter upon seeing this. He gave her a smile before saying, "You never have to ask for that." With that, the King of Hell snuggle up against his daughter and went to turn off a lamp that he accidentally left on. The two Morningstar's snuggles together throughout the night, neither of them wanting to separate from the other.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer #charlie #ler lucifer #lee charlie #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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Hi 🙋‍♀️ it’s me again

Thank you for being lovely, I’m so glad your requests are open!

Little backstory, I have undiagnosed ✨ spinal issues ✨ which give me chronic back and neck pain. Despite this, I really like the feeling of pressure on my neck and back. Like someone’s firm grip on the back of my neck, or them snuggled up against my back. Idk just that contact makes me feel better.

Lately, my neck has been worse than normal and hurts whenever I do not have it rested against something like a pillow or headrest to help hold it up for me.

I was hoping it would be okay to request a little blurb or something of everyone’s favorite soft bad boy Frank Castle offering to give you a little neck massage?

hi my darling! thank YOU for being so lovely, and thank you so much for the request. you can absolutely request everyone's favorite soft bad boy whenever you want.

I apologize this took longer than I expected to get out, but I hope it brings you the comfort you need! i've dealt with back problems for years (nothing even close to what you're dealing with though, my poor angel) so I totally get how much it sucks when nothing seems to help. I hope today is a better day for you, and you're not in too much pain. if I could snap my fingers & make frankie appear in your bedroom with his magic hands nonnie, I totally would. I hope this helps. ❤️

there's really no warnings for this except frank being cute and sweet as hell. also i'm not sure if the glitch with dark mode has been fixed or not but if you're on dark mode, you may have trouble viewing this. I apologize for any inconvenience reading in advance! word count: 1.5k

magic hands.

A soft whine of discontent slipped past your lips as a surge of pain shot down your spine. You gingerly rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to alleviate some of the distress that was plaguing your entire spinal cord. No matter what you did, the pain didn’t go away. If anything, the more you tried to soothe the sting, the more the discomfort spread throughout your neck and back. Soft pillows and heating pads seemed to provide a little help, but not enough to where you felt like you could function normally. Hell, even holding your own head up was sometimes unbearable.

“You alright?”

You jumped slightly when Frank’s gruff voice cut through the silence of your bedroom and winced when you turned your head a little too quickly for your body’s liking.

“Shit, I didn’t even hear you come in. You have to make noise when you get here, we talked about this. You’re seriously gonna send me into cardiac arrest one of these days.”

Frank had snuck up on you one too many times, and you were certain that’s how you were gonna go. Death by shock because your boyfriend likes to test how prepared you are for a surprise intruder. You’d think by this point he’d have given up on his lessons, but if anything it made him double down even harder on them. Frank didn’t budge when it came to your safety and preparedness.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your form, and you quickly removed your hand from your neck despite the lingering burn. Your relationship with Frank was still a bit new, and you weren’t sure how to approach certain topics without feeling a twinge of anxiety. You hated hiding things from him, but you also weren’t sure how to bring it up. Frank was already very overprotective, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt he would never make you feel like a burden like others had in the past, but it was still nerve wracking. You two were still in the “honeymoon” phase of your relationship where everything was fresh and exciting and new; everything a chronic illness wasn’t. You wanted to stay in your little bubble outside reality for a while longer. You wanted Frank to keep feeling the excitement of something fresh and new too. You wanted him to keep feeling that “honeymoon” way about you.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t look fine. What’s botherin’ you?”

“My neck’s a little stiff, that’s all. Think I slept on it wrong.”

Frank arched one of his dark brows quizzically, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom as he folded his arms over his chest. He nearly took up the entire frame. God he looked good today. Well, he looked good everyday. It really wasn’t fair. He probably didn’t even take five whole minutes to get ready this morning. It must be nice to be able to just wake up and-

“You’re a shit liar, you know that?”

You gawked at Frank’s blunt admission, your mouth hanging open slightly as he stared over you with a light smirk tugging at the edge of his month.

“I am not.”

“Are too. You got no poker face, sweetheart. You couldn’t lie to save your damn life.”

You mirrored Frank’s actions as you crossed your arms over your own chest, wincing slightly as the motion pulled at the furious muscles in your back.

“Well, excuse me for not being good at being shady.”

Frank’s smirk dropped the second he caught your wince. He let out a deep exhale as he made his way over towards you, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and placing his large hand on your knee.

“C’mon honey, talk to me. I can see you’re in pain. Don’t bother lyin’. What is it?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. There was no use trying to argue with Frank when he was adamant about something. He would get what he wanted out of you, by whatever means necessary. His other methods would be deliciously tempting if your body weren’t actively betraying you.

“It’s…my neck, and my back. They’ve been bothering me a lot lately, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to make it better. I’ve seen so many doctors about it, and I still don’t really have any answers. I kinda just…have to wait for it to pass.”

“Why didn’t you say somethin’ sweetheart?”

Because I was scared you wouldn’t think I was new and exciting anymore.

Because I was scared you would think I was too much.

Because there’s nothing sexy about chronic pain.

“I…guess I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“Bother me? Why would somethin’ you can’t control bother me?”

It sounded stupid when it said it out loud, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“What can I do?”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked at Frank, noticing the sincerity swirling around in the depths of dark brown.

“What?”

“What can I do to make it better?”

“Oh…um, I’m not sure. I’m still figuring that out.”

Frank rubbed at his chin with his palm, eyes scanning over your body like he was looking for some kind of invisible clue.

“What’s it feel like? More of a soreness or sharp sting?”

“Uh…little bit of both. Kinda depends.”

“What’s it feel like right now?”

“More on the sore side, like I just got hit by a truck hauling a bunch of other very large trucks.”

Frank tried his best not to laugh as he shook his head slowly, kicking off his boots as he looked at you with a warm smile.

“Okay, I can work with that. You mind if I try somethin’?”

“Not at all.”

Frank carefully moved to sit behind you against the headboard, stretching his legs out on either side of yours. His large hands hovered over your shoulders as he leaned in to speak quietly into your ear.

“If this hurts at all, even a little, tell me and I’ll stop, yeah?”

You nodded slowly as you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Frank’s strong chest pressed against your back. You found yourself instinctively leaning back into his embrace, finding relief in the warmth of his body heat and the pressure of him pressed against you. A loud sigh flew from your mouth when his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck and applied a bit of pressure. He halted immediately, and you could feel his heart thrum against your back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, that felt really good.”

Frank squeezed the back of your neck gently, rubbing his thumb in slow circles and applying a little more pressure every time. Gradually he began to massage at your shoulders and the top of your back, kneading his fingers into your aching muscles. His hands were so warm and the force behind them felt divine. Your body hadn’t felt this relaxed or loose in so long, it made you want to cry.

“How you doin’, pretty girl?”

“Feels amazing, Frank. Please keep going.”

“Sure thing, honey. Whatever you need.”

Your head dropped between your shoulders as Frank worked out every ounce of tension in the angry tissue covering your neck and back. It seemed even your body couldn’t deny the magic of Frank Castle’s hands as the vengeful pain succumbed to the sweet relief of his affection. You lost track of how long you sat there in his lap, but you could have sat there forever. It wasn’t just his hands that made the discomfort melt away. It was him.

It was the comforting pressure of his presence, being able to feel the strength of his heart’s rhythm against your skin, and the blazing warmth that radiated from deep within him. It was the thrill of having his hands on you, knowing exactly what those hands were capable of, and reveling in the juxtaposition of how rough and heavy they felt on your skin with such delicate motions and care. It was the spicy earthiness of his cologne that draped over you like a blanket, lulling you further into the safe haven that was simply Frank.

“You have magic hands.”

Frank chuckled lowly as you settled further into his chest, brushing his nose along your cheek before pressing a sweet kiss in the same spot.

“That right?”

“Mhm. I mean I already knew that. You’ve proved to me plenty of times you’re good with your hands. But you’re really good with them.”

“Glad you think so, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Better. So much better. Can we stay like this for a while longer?”

“Course. Only place I gotta be is right here with you.”

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher request

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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legitimately fuckin obsessed with the avatrice football au my dude. that last snippet brought me pure JOY im tellin you what

[well here's some ava pov while i procrastinate ch3 plot lol, s/o to @unicyclehippo for the worst/best gay pun of all time, love u. honestly this is long enough to put on ao3 so ... i'll do that in a footy au series i suppose for context... justice for chanel lol]

///

waking up from your first surgery is a blur, mostly an inexplicable terror when you can’t feel your legs, when you can barely move your fingers. tears leak from your eyes and you can’t wipe them, can only let them roll down into your temples. but then there’s a hand in yours, and chanel’s comforting touch, her voice soft.

‘it’ll be okay, ava,’ she says.

it won’t be okay, you’re certain of it, because you’d been taken straight from the field to the hospital, and then right into surgery, your kit cut off so that they didn’t move your spine more than you already had. you love football; you love football, the feeling of being so at home in your body, the feeling of going fast and the delight of the burn in your muscles, of not being afraid of anything.

‘i’m really scared.’ you look at chanel, showered and gorgeous, in a team issued bomber that seems impossibly elegant, even now.

‘yeah,’ she grants, swipes her thumb against your cheeks and into your hair, catching your tears. she grabs a tissue and wipes your nose, which, from anyone else, would be absolutely horrifying, but she does it with so little fanfare and you’re in pain and also not pain — the worse option — you can’t even really care. she’s your favorite teammate: kind and brave and funny. she’s your friend. ’you’re gonna get through this, though.’

‘i don’t — i don’t want to.’

you don’t even quite know what you mean, still out of it because of pain meds and anesthesia, but chanel sighs gently.

‘you will. one day, you will.’

you don’t, not for a long time. after your fifth surgery you kind of tell yourself that you’ve definitely given up on football; they move you to a long-term rehab facility specifically for spine injuries, which is better than the hospital for sure, but it’s still hours and hours of physical and occupational therapy that leaves you feeling discouraged more often that not. once the inflammation starts to go down in your spine, you start to, at least, regain some function in your arms and hands, and after your sixth surgery, things are, you’ll admit, more hopeful. at the very least, you’ll be able to do things like use a manual chair and cook and type emails.

you’re not great at texting yet; your occupational therapist is always telling you that if you worked on writing, and holding cutlery, and even more boring, pointless shit like pick up sticks, you’d have an easier time, but, whatever, you can type with the pointer finger of your right hand and it gets the job done. chanel visits as often as she can, most days in the late morning, which feels particularly generous in the off season when she could be being glamorous somewhere else, probably invited to paris fashion week or something. she brings makeup — expensive, beautiful makeup — and doesn’t seem to care when you clumsily fuck up lipstick or poke your eye with a mascara wand. you know she brings it so you actually do your occupational therapy exercises, but she also brings you changes of comfortable clothes and washes your hair gently every few days. she lies back in bed with you, long limbed and beautiful, and watches matches when you don’t feel too sad.

a few days after your eighth surgery, your last, according to your neurosurgeon, you wear a giant back brace over your beatrice xin jersey, your favorite player to watch, and your physical therapy team gets you strapped into this harness that connects to the ceiling so you can try to walk on the treadmill and for sure won’t fall. it kind of feels like you’re doing a stunt or something, and chanel stands there and indulges you with a smile while you make all of your best ‘strapped into a harness’ jokes.

and then — you do walk. it’s slow going, the treadmill barely moving, and your legs feel sluggish and so weak and almost not like your own. it’s been two months since you took a step and it feels like a fucking miracle. chanel wipes a tear or two from her own eyes, even though you can only walk for five minutes and are sweating kind of profusely — it’s a fucking miracle, and she understands it too.

‘what are you frowning at?’

she rolls her eyes and pockets her phone, easily pedaling with insane resistance on the peleton next to you while you struggle to get your legs to listen to your brain and pedal at all. ‘idiot bros on twitter. “trans women don’t belong in women’s sports” and all that bullshit.’

you stop trying to pedal because you’re already entirely unsuccessful today and now you’re not able to focus at all. ‘fuck them.’

she grins. ‘yeah.’

‘i’ll beat them up, just you watch.’

it makes her laugh, and you think she knows you really would physically get into a fight — on or off the field — if anyone ever said anything to her.

‘plus, i can take you 1v1.’

‘in your dreams, silva.’

‘i’m going to, again. don’t even think i won’t.’

chanel pats your hand; you feel it all. ‘i’ve always known you could do it. i’ve never thought you wouldn’t, ava.’

you duck your head, unused to genuine praise after all this time stuck in the same boring, discouraging, painful rooms at the spine center, even though all of your doctors and nurses and therapists had been nice.

‘but,’ she says, ‘first you gotta pedal on this bike.’

‘it’s hard,’ you whine.

‘you’re just distracted.’

you look at the game you’d turned on, beatrice xin currently with two goals and two assists, and sigh. ‘i’m horny.’

it gets the biggest, best laugh out of chanel, and you feel a little something like pride bloom in your chest: you love making people you care about laugh.

‘fine, fine,’ you grumble. you look down at your feet, your quads and calves so small and pale compared to six months ago; you try to breathe through the immediate fear and the tiny bit of shame that pops up. but you focus, feel your feet firmly on the pedals, think about how you know how to ride a bike; you know how to stand up straight and put on pants and kick a ball. the back brace you have on feels tight, feels restricting — but you focus on activating your quads, then your hamstrings, and you eventually get the pedals to move.

‘hell yeah,’ chanel says.

‘if you try to give me a high five right now i think i’ll get all scrambled if i try to move my hand.’

she laughs, reaches over and pats the top of your head instead.

‘ava silva,’ chanel says, and you grin; you can’t help it. she holds her phone at a, thankfully, flattering angle as you walk along the beach — slowly, but steady: you trust you won’t fall, that you’re strong enough and getting stronger. ‘what does freedom feel like?’

chanel has like… three million followers, and she loves social media, something that your old club has always been thrilled about. they hadn’t renewed your contract, but you’d understood; they’re still paying for all of your medical care, so you don’t really feel upset, just a sense of loss you’re not quite ready to name. but chanel loves you, and she’s so, so happy for you — even if you never play again, you’re walking and even starting to run now; you’re in pain but it’s manageable. it’s okay.

‘it feels —‘ euphoric; devastating — ‘like a miracle.’

you flop down on chanel’s neatly made and extravagent bed; you’ve been staying in her guest room — which she had turned into her closet, so it’s still kind of packed with all of her beautiful clothes, although there is a very expensive bed for you — and training until, hopefully, you can get signed somewhere. she doesn’t even look up from her ipad when you sigh. ‘hello, ava.’

‘i have a favor to ask that i actually think you’ll be interested in.’

she pauses whatever she’s doing, then looks up. ‘i’m listening.’

‘well! okay, so. as you know, i’ve basically only worn hospital gowns and sweats for the last year and a half, and before that, i was, like, a child.’

chanel perks up, and you can practically see the wheels in her head turning already.

‘and now, wherever i get signed, you know, people are gonna care, and want interviews and all this stuff. so, in small part, i want to feel good about how i look for this next chapter of football.’

‘i love it,’ she says. ‘and what’s the large part?’

you flop back again, just for the dramatics. ‘i am… so horny. like, you don’t even understand.’

she laughs. ‘JC is nice though, right?’

‘yeah,’ you say, because he is. ‘but, like, girls.’

she pauses for a second, a happy smile on her face. ‘so, you want to look… more… bisexual?’

‘i mean, i do already? because i am? right?’

‘well, of course, ava.’ it’s gentle and reassuring but still a little amused.

‘but — yeah. like, i want to pick stuff i love, my clothes and my hair and whatever, gain back control, blah blah, everything my therapist is always going on about.’

‘your therapist is great, you love her.’

‘sure.’ she is; you do. ‘so anyway, i just — i guess i just want to feel like myself.’

‘now that,’ chanel says, ‘is a favor i love.’

‘you’re sure?’

‘it doesn’t matter if i’m sure,’ chanel says, sitting in the hairdresser’s chair next to yours. you have the salon to yourselves; she’d booked you a private appointment with her hairstylist immediately.

you turn to said stylist, dimitri, with their chic and very neat fade. ‘are you sure?’

‘like chanel said,’ they say. ‘it only matters what you want. we don’t have to do anything big.’

you look in the mirror; you hadn’t had the real opportunity to get a haircut in a long time, being in the hospital and rehab and then spending as much time as you could training after that. you haven’t, really, taken the time to deeply care for yourself, something your therapist has been bothering you about. you want, so badly, to live as big as you can. as much as you can.

‘well, i’m sure, as long as you think it’ll, like, be good for my face shape or whatever.’

chanel and dimitri share a quick glance and then chanel rolls her eyes. ‘ava, you have to know that you’re beautiful, right?’

you pause for what you feel is an appropriate amount of time. ‘yes.’

‘but since you asked,’ dimitri says, ‘i do think this will be great for your face shape.’

‘alright,’ you say, feeling suddenly very excited and a little buoyed. ‘let’s fucking do it, then.’

chanel cheers and dimitri grins; they wash your hair gently, and you feel a little panicked until chanel starts talking about the threesome she had a few nights ago, which is delightful and grounding enough you stay, fairly easily, in the present of this beautiful, outrageously expensive salon, the control you get to have. not that you’re thrilled about your therapist being completely 100% correct, but… she was right.

dimitri dries your hair and then combs it out patiently, divides it and then clips up the top part. ‘ready?’

‘definitely.’

chanel grins and it’s easy, so much easier than you knew it would be, to sit and watch yourself become. you’re filled with a sense of joy, this tiny seed that grows as dimitri cuts your hair to your chin precisely, and asks you about your plans for the day, and food you love, and chanel talks about her latest modeling contract — in addition to football, which amazes you in a way that makes you feel proud in the very center of your chest, this incredible person who showed up and helped take care of you. you feel your shoulders relax; you feel your feet firmly in the new sneakers converse had sent you, comfortable and cool; you even take time to feel your butt in the chair with the knowledge that you don’t need to do any pressure reliefs or weight shifts because, when dimitri is done, you’ll be able to stand up and walk and dance and run and even play football. and even if — even if — one day, you couldn’t, you have your friends and your teammates and your life.

‘you look hot, ava,’ chanel says, very genuinely, after dimitri finishes with a leave in, then shows you how to dry your hair and recommends a light oil.

‘go ahead,’ they say, ‘run your hands through it, all that jazz.’

to touch; to feel. you think you might cry, all of a sudden, with your soft hair that you picked, that you wanted, and chanel takes in your wobbling bottom lip and then tuts and pulls you toward her. because of your height difference, your face is basically smooshed into her chest and, even though you do cry, you laugh too, wet and messy and alive.

‘this probably my favorite place in the world,’ you say.

chanel shoves you playfully and you grin up at her.

‘thank you.’

she waves you off, as she always does when she’s a little overwhelmed too. ‘don’t thank me yet. now we have to go shopping.’

it’s not as bad as you’d feared; despite the fact that chanel only wears the most elegant designer clothes — her closet is full of gucci and bottega and, of course, chanel, and a whole shelf of louboutins — but she also loves you and knows you, deeply, and so when her driver pulls up to a row of a few very cool-looking thrift stores, you have to hug her again. she gives you helpful feedback on pieces and outfits and you feel, quite genuinely, happier than maybe you ever have. you buy crop tops and high waisted, loose jeans and a few sweaters you love; some silly earrings and a necklace and a cap that chanel laughs at, but fondly enough you know it works. you find a men’s button up with a bunch of flames on it and she rolls her eyes but you put it on anyway, knot it at your waist so it feels just above your shorts.

‘do i look bi?’

‘you look a little bit crazy, but i definitely wouldn’t think you’re straight.’

you’re practically shaking with excitement: ‘it’s… flaming. i’m flaming! get it!’

chanel groans. ‘ava,’ she says, but wraps an arm around your shoulders and throws it on the growing pile anyway.

you feel happier than maybe you ever have until the next morning, when you come back from a silly game of football on the beach with her and JC and a few of your other friends, your hair spilling out of the tiny bun you’d managed to get it into, which had made you laugh, and sit down to have some burrata — another one of your favorites that chanel indulges in getting for you from time to time, even did while you were in the hospital and she had to put it on little crackers and feed it to you herself — and then accept a call from your agent. you step inside to take it, close the door softly.

after it’s done, you yank the door open this time, burst onto the patio. all of your nerves are alive; in your shorts, your legs look strong again, tan and muscular and capable.

‘good news?’

you’re almost too excited to explain that you’re getting signed by your favorite club, $6 million for the year, with, if all goes well, an option to extend your contract another season after. a bonus: they just hired dr. jillian salvius, one of the best sports specialists in the world. all of your care will be, of course, included.

chanel starts to cry, which makes you start to cry, and she hugs you to her tightly.

‘i am so happy for you,’ she says. ‘and i’m really gonna miss you.’

‘i’m gonna miss you too,’ you tell her.

she backs up and puts her hands on your shoulders, a smile sneaking up her face. ‘you know, i happen to remember your favorite player in the whole entire world playing at a certain club.’

you hadn’t really thought past football and then six million dollars, but — ‘fuck.’

chanel laughs, face beautiful and delicate and rich in the sun. ‘i can’t wait to show her pictures of you in her jersey.’

‘oh god, are there any on my instagram? i have to go check.’

she just keeps laughing, and it’s all brimming, so wonderful, right at your fingertips.

you sign a few days later, your hands steady.

‘well,’ chanel asks, lounging back in bed on zoom, ‘how was day one?’

‘oh my god.’ your hair is still wet from the shower you took at the training grounds; you had raced back to your new apartment to make sure you were on time for your call. ‘i got there early, to play a little bit, get the nerves out, you know. and guess who was there and wanted to play 1v1?’

she grins. ‘no fucking way.’

‘i got schooled, obviously,’ you say, think of the way beatrice xin had moved with the ball, how surely she went into tackles, how precise she was. ‘i did score twice, though, and nutmegged her once. greatest football moment of my life, i’m pretty sure.’

‘what’s she like?’

you think chanel is probably humoring you, but you don’t care. ‘beatrice is… beautiful.’ it’s really the only word you have: her neat bun that stayed in place perfectly other than a few errant strands by the end of the session today; her clipped, lovely accent; the way her calves had looked while she was sprinting; the delicate lines of her face; her freckles and her eyes; how she had been serious and professional but kind; her strong back, muscles rippling under her skin in a way that made you shiver, in the locker room when she had untucked her quarterzip and pulled it over her head; how she seemed lonely, despite it all. ‘she’s really beautiful.’

it’s a while later when the sheer mortification dawns on you, but then beatrice, in her weird, hot, hilarious way, seems to dissipate the extreme embarrassment you’re going to be faced with by being embarrassing first.

‘hello, chanel.’ she reaches out her hand very seriously, in her favorite linen jumpsuit and a very expensive pair of off-white dunks and black, cat eye sunglasses that are honestly cooler than you expected, in front of her favorite nice brunch place. chanel shoots you a glance and then shakes bea’s hand firmly while you both try not to laugh.

‘hey, it’s great to meet you.’

‘you, as well,’ bea says. ‘i — before we sit, i just wanted to extend my admiration, for the work you have done both on and off the field for trans equity in our sport.’

it’s so serious, and so genuine, chanel seems a little disarmed and a little affected. ‘thank you.’

bea nods once, seriously. ‘and, maybe more importantly, even, my deep gratitude, for caring for ava. she’s spoken so highly of you, and it means — i love her,’ bea decides on, after a pause. ‘i’m glad, immeasurably so, that she has people who love her too.’

chanel suspiciously sniffles. ‘can i give you a hug? is that weird?’

bea smiles, a real smile, your favorite, and opens her arms. you resist the urge, passionately, to make a joke about how the two hottest (sorry, lilith) women you know together is really gonna do it for you during your alone time later, which is honestly a fucking feat.

‘well,’ chanel says, ‘i made a presentation of every embarrassing thing ava has done that you should know about.’

‘oh no.’

bea loops her arm with chanel when she gallantly offers, and bea says, ‘oh yes.’ you trail behind them, feeling short and small and bursting with happiness. chanel orders basically the entire menu for you to try and she and bea laugh at your expense when chanel opens her phone and does, indeed, have an entire canva presentation of you being embarrassing, but you don’t really mind at all. the sun warms your shoulders and you drink champagne that costs way too much money, the bubbles bright on your tongue. chanel laughs and bea puts her hand on your thigh, just like that: you feel it all.

#avatrice fic #avatrice #footy au #wn #warrior nun fic #anyway completely missed opportunity on the show to have chanel be the STAR OF THE SHOW lmfao so here she is in all her glory i love her #i WILL put it up on ao3 just in a hot minute lol

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