#Animal was picked as her cover and I don’t know how to feel about it

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

#good thing I like talking about tears :DDD #one of my faveourite links tbh #love him soooooo #moss✦answers #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #linked universe #lu tears #self aware au #self aware loz #🐰 anon

[pekabloooop]

This again

#mu kusunoki #mikoto kayano #amane momose #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #Amane s door is out! #The door looked amazing #I can’t wait for the purge march #Animal was picked as her cover and I don’t know how to feel about it #The lyrics feel to inappropriate for her but they will probably change the context #Wonder what they’ll do for the insumental mix up #Also I may do more heartless suff but idk #I want to but I might forget about it and not do anything but who knows #Also Simone give me a suggestion for the titles I am running out of things to say #I have no creativity when it comes to funny names #milgram #yes I May or may not have completely forgotten to put the milgram tag on hear till the last second and am to lazy to put it at the top

[deadghosy]

Hi! I hope you're doing great!

So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?

Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller

And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!

P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival

HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER

Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!

Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.

The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….

I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.

“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.

Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️

You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.

You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.

I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”

“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.

You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.

I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.

No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.

You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..

You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.

“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.

“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.

Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.

I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.

Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆

You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨

You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.

You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.

Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.

I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭

lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.

“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”

They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.

When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends

You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.

Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.

Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho

I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.

LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭

I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along

Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-

So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.

After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.

Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers. 

HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH

#bendy and the ink machine #batim bendy #bendy and the dark revival #bendy x reader #hazbin hotel x bendy! reader #x bendy!reader #bendy!reader #baby bendy #ink demon #hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x platonic!reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

#BREEEEDDINNGG KINKKKKKIJGDJGR NOWWWWWW #lian woulf so give me baby fever like thats my baby #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader

[cinnbar-bun]

Kiss the Swordsman (Mihawk x Reader)

Summary: Inspired by "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid.

Perona is frustrated that Mihawk won't confess his feelings for you, so she hires Zoro to take part in a scheme to get Mihawk to admit his love for you.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Rating: SFW

You can read this on my AO3 here!

Perona glared deeply at you and Mihawk, who were quietly sitting and eating breakfast. You passed him the butter without him asking, and he refilled your cup while you were cutting your food. 

Zoro raised a brow as he stopped shoveling his pancakes into his mouth. “Why’re you so angry?” 

Perona’s frown grew fiercer as she crossed her arms. “I’m mad Mihawk hasn’t made a move!” 

Zoro glanced at Mihawk, who was taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I dunno, he looks like he’s moving just fine,” Zoro shrugged. Perona smacked his shoulders. 

“Not like that, idiot!” She shouted. Zoro picked his ear and continued to eat. 

“Dunno what you mean then.” 

“Ugh! You’re so clueless!” Perona pointed at you and Mihawk. “It’s so obvious they like each other!” 

Zoro swallowed another pancake whole and shook his head. “I know you didn’t just say that while I’m eating.” 

“Well I did!” 

“Ugh… whatever,” Zoro sighed. “Besides, what are you talking about? They don’t like each other.” 

Perona narrowed her eyes and forced Zoro to look at Mihawk. “You’re blind. Look at how he looks at (Y/n)!” 

Mihawk, at the moment, was focused on his breakfast and Zoro grit his teeth. 

“He’s not even looking at them…” 

“Y-you just missed it!” Perona’s cheeks turned red as she wagged her finger. “Trust me, he stares at them a lot!!” 

“So what? Maybe (Y/n)’s just got a stain or something. What do you want me to do about it?” Zoro tiredly responded. 

“I’m not asking you to do anything ab-,” her eyes lit up as she gasped loudly, making Zoro jolt. “That’s it! You’re a genius, Zoro!”

“I am…?” He asked, unsure if he was going to like her next few sentences. 

“Mhm! You just gave me a new idea! We go make Mihawk confess his love for (Y/n)!” 

“But does he even-“ Perona cut Zoro off by placing her index finger to his lips. 

“Shhhh… trust me. It’s foolproof.” 

---

“So, tell me again how this is supposed to make Mihawk confess?” Zoro asked as he held the shovel in his hand. 

“Duh! (Y/n) will just fall into this hole and maybe get injured or something,” Perona proudly smiled as she covered the hole with a net of leaves. “Mihawk will swoop in and realize seeing the love of his life fall into a hole was too much, then he’ll look into (Y/n)’s eyes and be so emotional over their safety and have to confess!” 

“I don’t think that’s gonna pull a confession out of him.” 

“What do you know, lughead?! Have you ever dated someone before?” 

“No,” Zoro scratched his chin. “Neither have you.” 

“Well that’s just- um, ah- just hush! Shhh! I hear them coming.” 

Perona dragged Zoro behind a tree to peek out and see her victims. Mihawk and you were clad in your usual farming attire, with you carrying a bucket of compost for your garden. Perona rubbed her hands and chuckled, waiting for the glorious moment to come when… 

“Oh, wait, Mihawk, there’s something over there,” you pointed out. 

“Hm? Ah…” Mihawk hummed in acknowledgment as you both began walking away from the path where the hole was. Perona gawked and gripped the bark of the tree. 

“No! Those two-!” 

You and Mihawk noticed a small burrow close to the field of root veggies. “A rabbit, I believe,” Mihawk murmurs, crouching down to the small nest. Before he can even take a look, a grown rabbit bolts out of the hole and dashes under Mihawk’s legs. 

You jump as the rabbit runs past you, and Mihawk recovers to quickly chase after it. The swordsman is fast and swift, able to keep up with the animal, while you’re struggling to close the gap due to the heavy bucket in your hands. 

“And, got you-“ Mihawk leans forward to grab the rabbit, but as he does so, his foot makes contact with the nest of leaves that Perona hid the hole with. “Agh!” 

Mihawk lets out a loud yelp as the rabbit slips from his fingers and he plummets to the bottom of the (thankfully) shallow hole. 

You drop the bucket and rush over to him, looking down at him inside the hole. 

“Mihawk! Are you alright?” 

He dusts himself off, examining how his white shirt is now stained with brown mud and crumbled leaves. 

“Yes. I’m quite alright,” he answers smoothly, as if he didn’t just fall face first into a hole. 

“Do you need a hand?” You ask, extending your hand to him. 

“Thank you, (Y/n),” he accepts, pulling himself up with ease. “Are you alright? You’re not injured, are you?” 

You shake your head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t the one who fell into a hole, anyways. I’ll go check on you back at the castle.” 

“Much appreciated. But first-“ he craned his neck to Perona and Zoro’s hiding spot, causing them to shriek and fully hide themselves behind the trunk. His hawk eyes narrowed at them as he slowly made his way over to them. 

It all happened in a blur, as suddenly the two were lifted by their collars as Mihawk made them face the fields. 

“Since you two love playing in the dirt so much, I’ll allow you the opportunity to till each and every field today. And while you’re at it, fill that hole again,” he stated coldly, his voice giving no room for argument or interpretation. 

Perona and Zoro gulped at the massive garden. 

“If you two try this stunt again, I will have you become fertilizer. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes, Mihawk,” Perona and Zoro nodded and weakly gave in. Given how Mihawk could be, this was perhaps his form of mercy to them. Mihawk dropped them and walked back to you, examining your hands. 

“Ah, you have a small mark. Next time, I’ll carry the bucket for you,” Mihawk commented. 

“It’s not a problem, Mihawk. I can do it just fine,” you chuckle. “Come on now, let’s go make sure you’re not bleeding.” 

“I most certainly would not be injured from that small of a hole.” 

---

Perona growled as she crossed off yet another idea from her list. 

“Maybe you should give up,” Zoro stated nonchalantly as he was taking a sip of his drink. 

“I can’t! I can’t, because if I don’t, Mihawk is never gonna do it and he’ll die alone like a boring old man!” Perona sobbed. “He can’t keep hiding his feelings! I just don’t get why none of these have worked…”

“Gee, I wonder why injuring (Y/n), burning books, breaking glass, and ruining dinner would make Mihawk not confess,” Zoro deadpanned. 

“Shut up, smartass! I just… I just know that deep down, (Y/n)’s the best thing in his life, and I’m not letting them walk away thinking he doesn’t care!” 

“That’s surprisingly caring of you.” 

“I’m gonna get violent!” Perona stomped her foot. 

“Just take it easy! You’ve been bombarding them nonstop and making us have to do so many chores. I’m not gonna clean any more dishes because of your matchmaking.” 

Perona huffed and nodded. She was exhausted from all the punishments Mihawk gave her after the many stunts she pulled, and manual labor was so not cute. She slid to the floor. 

“This is hopeless…” Perona mumbled. Zoro saw how dejected she looked and sighed. 

“Look, I’m not a romance expert, but why don’t we try something a bit smaller? Ya know? Something that doesn’t end up with (Y/n) or Mihawk getting something broken?” 

“Like what?” 

“Well, I dunno, I figured you’d tell me what people to be romantic. Damn, if only I had that cook here…” 

“Cook?” Her eyes lit up. “Cook! That’s it! We can make them a candlelit dinner!” 

---

Another of Perona’s shenanigans. Mihawk sighs as he opens a letter that tells him to get dressed and be outside in the courtyard. 

“Why did she sign it as (Y/n)…” he asks himself, confused why Perona would think he wouldn’t recognize what your handwriting looked like. Regardless, considering she seemingly put so much effort into this, he plays along and does as told, careful to “dress up nicely” as Perona so eloquently wrote. He fixed his hair and made sure to brush his facial hair before heading to the courtyard. 

“Now, Perona, I hope you have a good-,” he stops when he sees you’re the person standing, waiting in the courtyard. You look breathtaking, elegantly dressed up in an outfit that fits you perfectly. For a moment, Mihawk forgets what he was doing and trying to say. You chuckle and step closer to him. 

“You got her letter, too?” You ask. Mihawk nods. 

“I’m not sure what she’s thinking now.” 

“Neither do I. But it’s been a while since I wore something like this, it’s a nice change of pace.” 

Mihawk stares at you unemotionally, and you’re worried he thinks poorly of what you just said or how you look. 

“Yes… it’s a lovely change of pace,” he adds, his face softening. “You look stunning, (Y/n).” 

The compliment makes you smile, and he feels his face get warmer at seeing your gorgeous smile his way. 

“Come, let’s take a seat, I’m sure Perona has some plans for us,” he offers his hand. You take it and he glides swiftly to the small, white table with a beautiful candelabra in the center. Mihawk pulls out your chair and helps you sit, like a true gentleman. 

“I’m honestly surprised she’d done all of this,” you comment. “I wonder why.” 

“I could hazard a guess,” Mihawk replied, before Zoro arrived in a tux. 

“Evening, you two,” he states, holding a notepad. “The uh-“ he flips through the notepad and you and Mihawk see an obvious script that Perona wrote for him. You hold in your laughter while Mihawk looks unamused. “Y-yeah, sorry, the dining room proudly presents… your dinner!” 

Zoro turns around and makes a motion to grab something, only to grab air. “Wait, where’s the food?” 

Mihawk pours you a drink as Zoro fumbles with the notepad and flounders to find the cart full of food. 

“It seems there’s been a technical difficulty,” Mihawk mumbles. 

“Oh, be easy on them,” you tease. 

Perona stomps to where Zoro is and smacks his head with the notepad. 

“I told you to put the cart there!” She hisses, you and Mihawk are able to hear her perfectly. “Now they’re going to have their dinner ruined!” 

“Hey! I’m sorry! I thought it was here!” Zoro whisper-yells back. He thankfully finds the food cart this time and pushes it towards the table. He then places a silver dish in front of each of you and removes the lid. “There we go! Dinner!” 

“Appetizer,” Perona corrects. 

“Appetizer,” Zoro amends. 

“Thank you. May we have some privacy?” 

“Ohhhhh, of couuuurse!” Perona nods, too obvious in her scheming. She grabs Zoro as the two of them hide in a nearby bush. 

“They do realize we know where they went, right?” Mihawk whispers to you so they can’t hear. 

“Just let them have this. They worked very hard for it.” 

“I understand, but their behavior is quite…” 

“Intrusive?” You add. 

“Very much so,” he sighs as he drinks. “It took me until Perona broke three cups to understand this was deliberate.” 

“For a bit, I thought they were trying to kill me,” you joke. 

“They’d know better than to try such a thing,” Mihawk shakes his head. 

“Although, knowing they’re trying to pull this off makes it a bit sweeter,” you comment. 

“What do you mean?” Mihawk raises a brow. 

“It’s sweet that they’re trying to do this for us. It’s rare we get to spend time together like this nowadays. Usually it’s us taking care of them and training them, but now they’re making us a candlelit dinner.” 

Mihawk’s lips curl into a grin. “You are correct. Even though I would not have done it like this, it’s still rather charming.” 

You and Mihawk quietly chatted throughout the three course-meal. Occasionally, you heard the grunts and arguing between Perona and Zoro from their hiding spot in the bushes. Mihawk would urge you to ignore them as you two laughed and reminisced throughout the evening. Seeing Mihawk relax more and more as he continued talking to you was a treat for Perona and Zoro. 

“I think… I think I’m starting to see what you mean,” the swordsman said. 

“See! Told ya!” Perona smirked. “Look at how he’s melting at their words and smiling.” 

“I didn’t think he could do that,” Zoro replied, impressed at how you managed to make Mihawk’s lips form a grin. 

“They’re almost done eating, now for phase two!” Perona pumped her fists and shot up from the bush. You and Mihawk glanced at her as she floated towards the woods, with Zoro following after her. 

“What do you think they’re up to now?” 

“I feel as if I really do not want to know,” Mihawk sighed. You two waited patiently, until Perona and Zoro came back with a pack of Humandrills. Your eyes widened as you gasped, while Mihawk stayed silent, waiting to see what would happen next. Perona forced the Humandrills to stop before she pulled out a box from a nearby bush. 

“Now do what we said!” She demanded as she shoved a violin to a Humandrill. The Humandrill began to make disapproving noises at her commands. She gave a few more Humandrills other instruments before she pointed at Mihawk. 

The Humandrills looked up the Warlord and then forced a nervous grin and nodded, beginning to play their instruments in sync. You were amazed as they played a slow, romantic song. 

“I…I didn’t know they could do that,” you mumble. 

“Neither did I,” Mihawk stared in awe. You were so entranced by the makeshift orchestra that you didn’t notice Mihawk looking at you, as if debating with himself. He heard Perona and Zoro clear their throats and glanced to them. Perona and Zoro pointed at you and nodded. 

“I guess this was their plan from the start…” Mihawk whispered before he stood up and cleared his throat. “(Y/n).” 

“Hm? Yes, Mihawk?” You asked, looking into his eyes with an expecting expression. He extended his hand to you. 

“Would you like to dance?” He inquired, his eyes briefly moving away from yours. A bright smile was on your face as you nodded and took his hand. 

“I’d love nothing more,” you answer, and for a second, you think you notice a red blush appear on his cheeks. 

You two head to the center and Mihawk gently pulls you in closer, an arm around your waist as your other hands are clasped together. He sways with you, careful to not be too forceful or rough. The Humandrills are getting more excited, along with Zoro and Perona, as some of them begin to hum and vocalize. 

Your smile is bright and beautiful as you look radiant, even in the night sky.

“I hope you are enjoying tonight.” “I am, very much. I won’t forget this night for a long time,” you reply. Mihawk closes his eyes and nods. 

“I don’t think I will, either.” 

He twirls you around as you let out a laugh from the thrilling motion. You two continue to look into each other’s eyes, the unspoken feelings you have for the other clear to the both of you. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, Mihawk finds the feeling rather enjoyable. Having you in his arms, dancing underneath the stars to some beautiful music after a lovely meal- he hasn’t felt this carefree in a long time. You lean closer to him and Mihawk enjoys how you’re trying to get his attention. But you already have it. 

He stops dancing, keeping you both locked in an intense eye contact with his arm around your waist. It’s only you two now, as Mihawk gulps and slowly leans his face to you, silently asking for you to reciprocate. You close your eyes and do the same, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss. 

It’s not lecherous or sloppy, but a gentle kiss with you that says everything he cannot verbalize. 

He loves you, loves you so much that he can’t help but be so gentle and yearn for you. How he wishes to protect you and continue to have your presence within his life. How he loves your smile, your voice, your words, your everything that makes you, you in this lonely world. 

He wishes to say more through touch, but the need for air arises as you both move away. 

“I love you,” you say first. He presses kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, too.” 

Perona and Zoro clap at your confessions and Mihawk remembers that he’s in front of others. 

“Perona, Zoro,” he calls, his voice low. The two jolt nervously, unsure of what he’s going to do. His lips curve upwards as he glances at them and says a simple phrase, “Thank you.” 

#one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #divider by saradika #x reader

[spacebarbarianweird]

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #dhampirs of the sword's coast

[avocado-writing]

I saw some of your BG3 headcanon and I got to say I love it. 💕

I hope it okay to ask what would BG3 companion would react if the reader is a selkie 🦭💕

how cute! hope you enjoy, anon!

Astarion

sort of glad he isn’t the only “afflicted” of the group (even though you consider your selkie-dom a blessing and not a curse like his vampirism)

you spend long nights discussing how you adapted to “normal” life after the tadpole. he doesn’t need to hide from sunlight, you don’t feel the pull to constantly be near water.

makes jokes about stealing your sealskin when you annoy him, in return you threaten to stake him. just girly things 💕💞💓💗💝💘💖

when you finally get the confidence to transform in front of him he is transfixed. you are beautiful.

“what do you think?” nervous eyes, picking at your fingers.

“you’re wonderful,” he says, uncharacteristically sincere, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

Gale

super duper fascinated.

asks you a billion questions, ones you didn’t even think about the answers to!

”so how does it feel when you actually slip into your seal form?” “?? Normal I guess? Idk, Gale!”

he watches you transform and swim around, making lots of notes to start with — but he gets distracted and just watches you play.

when you flop up onto the bank next to him, covered in water and out of your seal body, he gets lost in the sweet depth of your eyes.

when he kisses you for the first time it’s the most sure he’s ever been about anything.

Karlach

“oh my GODS that’s so cool!”

also asks a billion questions too but not like… smart ones.

“have you ever eaten raw fish?” “yeah of course, Karlach!” “haha ew how did they taste?” “pretty good actually!” “AMAZING”

can’t stop looking at your, stroking your cloak when you’re in kith form. she knows how precious it is to you and wants to keep it safe.

she submerges herself in water and heats it up like a hot tub, you turn into your seal form and float around lazily enjoying her heat. ❤️

Wyll

gobsmacked but honoured you shared this side of yourself with him.

we know our lad likes fairytales, he’s swept up in the storybook aspect of it all.

(secretly you’re both thrilled at the idea of being a knight having a romance with a selkie. it’s so perfect and sweet! 💕)

always checks in to see if there’s anything he can do to make you feel more comfortable - finding you water to relax in or getting you some fatty food to enjoy.

perfect partner. respectful and doting. no notes!

Shadowheart

surprised, but pretends she knew all along (she didn’t, she just doesn’t want you knowing how taken aback she is)

I think you being a selkie helps her get the courage to try and swim.

maybe it’s you in bipedal form holding onto her and leading her into the water, or maybe you turn into a seal for extra buoyancy.

either way, she’s squeaking “don’t you dare let go!!”

she eventually gets more comfortable with this side of your life and there is nothing she enjoys more than just floating with you, holding your paw or your hand 💕

Lae’zel

doesn’t really understand.

you have to explain the concept to her a couple of times before it sinks in.

”this is a confession?” “yes…” “I do not understand why you believe I would think any differently of you. you are still the source of my joy.”

her honest acceptance of you, all of you, is enough to make your soul feel sweet.

you kiss her. there is simply nothing else for it.

Halsin

my man wildshapes, so he’s pretty used to people being in animal forms - even if it’s a bit different for you.

the two of you talk at length about changing into beasts and how it feels, what joy and freedom it brings.

let’s be real. we’ve all seen the bear scene. the two of you probably both turn into seals and get freaky. it’s great.

he likes to curl up in his bear form around you as a seal and drift off to sleep on the shore. you feel so safe next to him. he’d never let anything hurt you.

#gale of waterdeep x reader #Gale of waterdeep x tav #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #my writing #Long post #bg3 imagine #Gale x reader #Gale x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #companions x tav

[rahhhbananas]

IT GIRL ★

- male reader!

- fandom : atsv!

- pair(s) : miles morales x male reader

- warning(s) : not proof-read!

“How long is this going to takee???”

Pavitr whined, he sat on the fire escape stairs, mindlessly fidgeting a rock. Gwen leaning against the bars smiled, “Come on Pav, it’s Y/n. He takes hours and I mean hourssss— To get ready.” Pav groaned at that statement alone, no longer bothered about how long it would take them, but how long it take to get something to eat.

“You talkin ‘bout Y/n, the hell Miles at? ‘Is got a good sense of fashion, but not good enuff to take this long.” Hobie groaned, his own stomach growling, Gwen snorted, her eyes crinkling from how large her smile was “This is only scraping the surface of those two. Once you’ve know them for a year or two, you start to prepare ahead of time.” Gwen reached into her bag, handing the two a bag of chips. “There, that should hold you guys.”

The two thanked their prepared friend, before their attention was draw to the window that had just opened. Miles walked out, he wore a black baggy jeans, a white shirt, and ontop of it navy blue varsity jacket, with white air forces. He smiled, as if he hasn’t been making the entire friend group starve for the past 20 minutes “Miles, my guy!!!”

“Oi! I trademarked that!”

“What?”

“I’m surprised you did anything involved being in the same room as a government official.”

“Yeah, ‘ve gotten real desperate after the last situation with Pav.”

“That wasn’t my faulttt!”

“What situation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Okay..ignoring that totally normal..conversation, where’s Y/n? He’s glamorous and all, but taking this long? Is outrageous.” Gwen asked, sneaking a chip from Hobie’s bag.

“I’M HERE!! ★”

The group looked up, seeing Y/n on the set of stairs above them. He wore a cropped pink jacket, baggy jeans, white air forces, and on his back was a hello kitty backpack “So, where we feeling? Chinese, Pizza, BBQ? Oh, or Ice cream!” He rambled, not noticing the few irritated looks he got from his friends. “ANYTHING!” Pav screamed, using his hands to cover his face, “Anything, please.” Miles smiled, leading the group down the street, they chatted still deciding on their snacking spot.

“Oh! That cat café!” Gwen suggested, her eyes lite up at the thought of being surrounded by cute animals while enjoying a meal.

“Nah, ‘m allergic to cats.”

“And you care about your health for once? Shocking.”

“You don’t get it, bruv. My eyes swell so much I start thinking I’m in a kaleidoscope..”

“How does that even work?”

“We traveled through universes to get here, and that’s what you wanna ask?”

“Why don’t you say that louder, Pav? Maybe some crazy scientist will hear and try to kill us.”

“That’s so outta pocket.”

“lol.”

“Wow.”

“I have never heard someone say ‘lol’ in real life..that’s so— icky.”

“Pheww, good job, Gwen. Y/n has a new ‘ick’. Bravo.”

The group walked into the restaurant. It seemed to be based off the heros of Brooklyn, “Ugh, why’d we have to come to your restaurant?” Pav groaned. Hobie snorted, picking at the small figures of Spiderman, Miles’ black and red suit somehow blending with the restaurant aesthetic— he even noticed a few figures of the original hero, his merchandise in a corner that formed a sort of mural. The cashier took their orders, before they sat down at a booth near to the window.

“Do they have some of my merchandise!?!” Y/n looked around, his eyes searching the brick walls for some bit of pink. He sighed, giving up, slumping down in his seat, “Hey look, I think I saw some pink over there!” Hobie pointed, Y/n blinded by joy looked at where the teen was pointing to see a piece of chewed up bubble gum stucked to the floor, “…Why do I feel like we have issues, no matter the universe.”

“Hey, the people want what they want. And it’s clearly not you.”

“Wow, no consistency, or manners. Red flag there, Hobie.”

“Yikes.” Pavitr mumbled, sipping from his drink. Hobie however shook it off, relaxing more into his position. Miles took out his phone, snapping a few pics of the group waiting on their food, before the waiter arrived, handing out the dishes efficiently.

AN HOUR LATER!! ★

“Man, I am stuffed!” Hobie cackled, getting up from his seat. Gwen rolled her eyes, before looking at Y/n, he took his card and receipt back from the waiter. Joining his friends at the exit, the sun was starting to go down. “Damn, sundown already?” Hobie looked at his watch, noticing how late it truly was. Gwen laughed, “We left pretty late, because of two certain people.” Gwen jerked her head towards Y/n and Miles who were mindlessly talking about something while holding hands, the way they childishly would swing them every once and then looked somewhat endearing.

“We should head back to our universes though. Miguel set a curfew for a reason.”

“Or, we could brea-“

“Nope, the guy looked like he wanted to blow a vein last time I saw him. And I’m not looking to get chased on all fours, likes Miles.”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t catch us!”

“Hobart, no. We’re leaving.”

“Miguel not catching us? Hobie you are HILARIOUS!”

Gwen grabbed Hobie’s wrist, who although didn’t oppose the gesture physically, he looked to be doing it mentally “You’re lucky ‘m tired, Gwendy.” Gwen rolled her eyes, before throwing the lanky teen into the portal, waving goodbye to the two. Pavitr jumped through as well, shooting finger-guns at Miles before falling into the colorful abyss.

Miles smiled, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulder. Making their route to his apartment. The couple chatted on their way home, talking about nothing important, but what’d they do when they got outta highschool, you know, the norm. Until they arrived at Y/n’s apartments, Miles walked him to the stairs, his eyes focused on Y/n’s each move.

“Thanks for buying our food today, especially with how Hobie and Pavitr ate. I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Miles mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. Y/n smiled, grabbing Miles’ arm “No. don’t worry about it, you guys are my friends. I’d spend much more money on all of you If I could.” Miles laughed, “Yeah. But I’m starting to think Hobie’s allergic to paying for…well, anything.”

Y/n laughed loudly “And what you said earlier, I don’t have a lot of ‘icks” Miles scoffed, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief at the statement. Y/n groaned “I’m serious! You’ll never have to worry about icks, because you’re perfect.”

“Really? Thanks. 😏”

“You know, except that.”

“A smirk!?!?!”

“Yeah, it makes you look like a Sonic character.”

“What??”

“But I should go, my dad’s probably already made lunch.” Y/n kissed Miles on the cheek, before walking into the apartment doors.

“Wha? You can’t walks away like that!!”

“Is it a sonic character you hate??”

“What? No, i love Shadow!”

#male reader #cute #across the spiderverse #gay #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #miles molares #marvel x male reader #miles morales x male reader #black male reader #1610 miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #kinda refrencing my spider plush fic #first post after my hiatus #i feel asleep before I could post it last night

[buckyscombatboots]

꒰ঌI’ll wait, Angel໒꒱

Pairing: Boyfriend!Ari x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: virgin!reader, no p in v, size kink, scent kink, reader is waiting till marriage, coming in between her folds, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, overstimulation, fluff, mentions of Hockey player!Ari, Beefy!Ari (6,4), Soft!Ari, sickeningly sweet

Nicknames: Angel, Doe eyes, Doe, Bambi

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: This idea came from @junipermuses when she wrote this request 🫣

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀༺

“I Need you Angel.” The desperation in his tone is unmistakable as he tosses down his gym bag and hockey stick at the entrance of the bedroom. His hair is still a little bit damp from the shower he routinely takes after practice and he seems exhausted, yet his wandering gaze full of lust tells a different story. You let you own eyes wander, raking your gaze over his exposed beefy arms and then further down to his grey sweatpants where a prominent tent is forming between his thick thighs.

You lean over and place your phone on the nightstand, picking up the two bunny plushies Ari had bought, Hops and Thumper, and also placing them on the nightstand, but making sure to turn them around. They didn’t need to see what Ari was about to do to you “How was practice?” You ask innocently as Ari stalks closer, peeling off his grey sleeveless crew neck, throwing it in a corner of the room.

“It went well. Curtis got knocked onto his ass by Bucky, he was pissed. Steve’s been teaching Buck to be more assertive, he almost kicked all of our asses today.” He recounts in a low whisper, crawling across the mattress towards you. He looms over you, raking his eyes over every part of your exposed and unexposed skin; he licks his plump, pink lips like an animal preparing for a meal. His eyes linger at your clavicle and neck before falling to the swell of your breasts, then down further to your hips and exposed thighs. “I outskated Steve today, probably a fluke, but it felt good to finally have a one up on him and Ransom didn’t show up again, he’s gonna get kicked off the team at this rate.” You chuckle at Ari’s small victory, he’s always trying to one up Steve. They act like siblings half the time.

“I’m glad you had a good day. Wish I could have seen Steve’s face when you beat him.” You knew you’d congratulate him better later on, but at the moment Ari seemed preoccupied with his own mission. He runs his giant hands over the white lace that borders the camisole tenderly, before moving to stroke across the silky baby pink material of the rest of the nightie tracing the outline of your body with his hands till he reaches the hem half way down your thigh.

“It was great. But do you know what’s better? You. Your body. I’ve been thinking about you all day, Angel, and to come home and see you in the middle of our bed—in this sexy little chemise is making me feel even better than when I won against Steve. I need you so badly, little Doe.” Ari growled, his large hands bunching your night dress at your hips—as he bends your knees so he can open your legs—revealing your lacey, white underwear with an incriminating damp spot on the silky fabric. Ari takes two fingers and teases at the wet patch, pressing and stretching the fabric with his fingers. He sandwiches your clit between your fingers squeezing it lightly, before rubbing his thumb against the covered button making your insides ache at the promise of the fact that his thick, deft fingers would soon be plunged deep within you. You squirm away slightly from his pleasurable touch, covering your face with your fisted hands and attempt to close your thighs around him. Ari only needs one of his powerful hands to keep your thighs open as he uses his other hand to take a handful of your ass and drag you back towards him “Don’t run from me, Doe eyes. Take all the pleasure I give you.” He pulls you panties down and tosses them to join his crew neck in the corner.

His fingers stretch your tight hole and he inserts them, you’re soaking for him “So tight for me, Angel, always so so tight even when you’re naughty little hole is dripping for me.” He cooes, angling his fingers to rub against the sensitive spongy spot within you. He targets that spot as he fucks his fingers into you. Your pussy sucks his fingers back inside as he pulls them out, not all the way, stopping when the tips of his fingers are the only part remaining inside you. You let out a choked needy sob; pushing your hips against Ari’s stationary fingers, beckoning him to move. “Please Bear!” You keen, your core fluttering around his fingers. His cock twitched at the nickname and he obliges driving his fingers back into you with the addition of another, the burn his thick fingers stretching you open made your nerves buzz. The heat in your tummy builds until your body convulses as you reach climax. Your back arches off the bed; you grab at the pillows behind you squeezing them in your tight grip, your knuckles turning white as you wail and hump his still postponing fingers “So good Ari” you choke, coming down from your high. He takes your hand into his, placing a kiss on the promise ring on your finger and brushes your soft skin against his beard.

“I’m gonna fuck your folds now, Angel, okay?” He thinks for you, running his bulbous, leaking head through your silken folds. Ari bites his lower lips in concentration as he holds the fat base guiding his length, using all the willpower inside of him to not slip inside you. Just imagining how tightly your precious little hole would clamp around him was enough to push him near climax “God, Angel, I can’t wait until I can actually put it in you. It’s gonna go so deep, it’s gonna fill your tight little hole so well.” he briefly rubs the head against your clit and you whimper at the teasing motion. He moves forward slightly, just enough to rest the base of his cock at your enterance and hover his whole cock over your stomach “Fuck. It’s so big compared to you.” Ari holds your face in his hand, the cool metal of the promise ring pressing against your hot skin as he does, and strokes his large thumb over your reddened cheeks. He lowers his face to yours and places a gentle kiss on your lips “I bet you can’t wait either, right my sweet Angel?”

You run your tongue over your lower lip and nod timidly “Can’t wait to be with you forever.” You whisper next to his ear, nuzzling your nose into the area under his jaw, the edge of his thick beard tickling your cheek; you take a deep breath in letting the scent of Ari replace all the oxygen in your lungs. He smelt strongly of magnolia and vanilla, with a tinge of musky sweat that remained from hockey practice. The image of Ari in his hockey gear enters your mind; his muscular frame straining against the mesh of his jersey, the size of his already big hands exaggerated by the bulky, padded gloves—you remember the time he let you try them on, two of you fingers fit in one of the finger holes— Going to any of his games was a struggle, he always had you sat in the front and you had full view of your boyfriend as he glided across the ice with ease; dominating the rink and intimidating the other team, when he came at them at full speed while defending. You could barely focus on the game, only on the face Ari made whilst in a state of extreme focus—it made your whole body burn seeing just how skilled he was, just how hot he was in his gear. Your mind elsewhere, as you wonder about which jockstrap he was wearing under all those layers.

You’re pulled out of your fantasies, by Ari pinching and twisting your nipples that had stiffened into hard peaks. You whine as props himself up on his knees and slots himself fully between your legs, Ari pulls down both of the straps of your nightgown and holds your breasts in his two hands “Perfect size Angel. You drifted back to me from your little imagination yet?” Your moan in response doesn’t satiate him “Speak to me Bambi.” He demands. That nickname… all because you looked like a newborn deer when he first tried to teach you to skate.

He squeezes the soft, warm flesh of your tits in his hands “Ari, want you to move pleaseee.” You cry rolling your hips into his dick that’s resting between you puffy folds, he obliges dragging his length through your dripping lips his heavy balls slapping against you ass as he quickens his pace, ensuring the head of his cock stimulates your throbbing pearl with every thrust. Something about the debaucherous wet sounds of his cocksliding through you folds made it all seem so sinful, you were so happy that Ari was surprisingly fine with waiting till marriage to go all the way with you; but by God if he didn’t make it hard with the way that he completely destroyed you without ever even entering you. Your thighs shake slightly and jostle into Ari, he hisses in response “Bear, are you okay?” You ask, moving your legs away from the spot they had just come in contact with.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Bucky just bashed into me a little too hard during practice” your eyes glance down at his hip and you see the beginnings of a bruise blossoming on his slightly tanned skin “Don’t worry I’ll be fine, you should worry about yourself right now though, Bambi.” Ari’s thumbs roll over your pebbled nipples as he rolls his hip slowly, relishing in your soft moans before driving his hips into yours vehemently a growl leaving his lips when he catches on your hole, it doesn’t slide in only nudges it and you wail in response the action making you even more plaint under his touch and stokes the pleasurable fire, burning hotter and hotter inside you.

You feel Ari’s cock twitch as he rubs against your clit. He takes his length into his hand, fisting his cock as he rubs your clit with his other hand. Your eyes glaze over as you feel the pressure building in your belly yet again. You whine as the coil within you breaks, raising your hips off the mattress like a woman possessed, and shoving your face into the pillows to muffle your cries as your legs shake with the pleasure wracking your body. The sight of you coming undone below him sends him over the edge, Ari throws his head back “Fuck fuck fuckkk.” Letting out a guttural string of curses as he comes, hot ropes of cum spurting out onto your mound and in between your folds. Through hooded eyes he looks down at the mess he made, smirking at the glistening white come decorating your cunt

“So beautiful Angel, like heaven.” He groans, Ari’s head dips between your legs, as he begins to lick and suck the mess of both your arousals out of your cunt; the bristly hair of his thick beard scratching the supple skin of your inner thighs as he laps at you. His tongue grazes your sensitive clit and your hands fly to his hair in an attempt to pull him away from the area; but he takes the bud into his mouth and sucks, looking up at you through his lashes as he does. You gasp as he suck’s ferociously at your clit, you can’t take another orgasm but you were still overly sensitive from your last orgasm. He burrows his tounge inside your, devouring your still clenching hole moaning as he slurps and sucks yours and his juices. He returns to your clit, flicking his tongue against the abused nun before taking it back into his mouth. You see plasmic stars burst behind your eyelids, turning everything behind your eyes into a white abyss as you squirt on his face. He lets go of your clit with a pop, a devilish grin spreading across his reddened, wet lips “You’re sensitive aren’t you little Doe.” Your head is so addled by pleasure that you barely hear him, but you squeak out a yes and he rises from the apex of your thighs and lays down on the bed beside you. He cuddles you close to his chest and uses his long arms to retrieve both bunnies, placing them above your head on the pillow. Ari strokes your hair with his hand as you nudge impossibly closer into his hairy chest, breathing in his scent trying to memorise it.

His warmth envelopes you completely as you lock your arms around his strong back, brushing your hand over the corded muscle of his broad shoulders “I love you, Bear.” Your whispered confession muffled by his chest, he heard you.

“I love you too, and I’ll wait as long as you need, Angel, even after marriage. Whenever you’re ready.”

Tag list: @alina02 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @cevansgurl @getwellsoontana @bval-1 @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @flamefoxxrecs @savstranger @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar

#soft dom!ari levinson #softdom!ari levinson #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson x f!reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson #the red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort #chris evans smut #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans #smut #fanficfion #smut fanfiction #beefy!ari levinson

[soft-mafia]

Risky [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, sex in a public area, risky sex, cream pie, squirting, Buggy being horny

a/n: I just realized I’m making a lot of smut posts. I need help I’m too obsessed with Buggy😭 the plot is kind of sloppy but I really wanted to write some smut so sorry about that lolllll

Buggy had no idea what was wrong with him today. He had locked himself in his office, he lost count of how many times he had came, jacking off for hours at the thought of you.

When a crew member knocked on his door they were met with nothing but harsh curses and shouts from him; not knowing that their captain had been rubbing one out into a rag. His jaw clenched, teeth grit tightly as he tried to conceal his grunts and groans. He was huffing like a damn dog thinking of Y/n.

Maybe it was the lack of actual sex over the past few days that got Buggy so riled up, they’ve just been so busy setting everything up as soon as they got back to bed they both just tuckered out.. but damn why the fuck was he so horny now?!

After what seemed to be his 5th cum of the day, Buggy came out of his quarters, his makeup smeared, and he looked a bit disheveled. He put his hair up into a ponytail as he walked to the green room, going to see what his girlfriend was up to. She preferred to work back stage and behind the scenes, mainly on the contraptions and the lighting.. much to Buggy’s disappointment— he would love for her to be another accessory to his acts, not take up the entire spot light, but.. serve as some kind of eye candy for the audience.

With the way she bent and moved for him she could easily be a good contortionist.. fuck he was hard again.

Buggy’s muscles tensed as he saw Y/n talking to Mohji. The blue haired man seemed to physically restrain himself from grabbing Y/n and dragging her off somewhere to get some sex.

“Stop letting Richie come in here— we can’t use these lights anymore because he chewed them all up, and he pissed on the costume wigs.” Y/n said as she chewed out the beast tamer. As much as she was an animal lover, working with Richie was… a chore to say the least, but it was mainly to blame on Mohji for his poor animal management skills. “Y/n.” Buggy grunted out as he walked over to her, standing at her side and putting a hand on her waist, “Are you busy?” He asked, his voice a bit lower and gruffer than usual.

“Umm.. not right now, no.” She said, looking up at him. Buggy then turned to Mohji and made a tilting motion with his head, that told the man to ‘get the fuck out’, which he quickly obeyed.

“Are you ok?” Y/n looked up at Buggy, noticing his smudged makeup and how slightly sweaty he was. He smelled a bit muskier than usual, and he hadn’t covered his scent with cologne like he usually would. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Buggy said under his breath, his hands roaming all over her body now that they were alone, which she noticed. Buggy shuffled closer to her, pressing his body against her side as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “God I wanna fuck you so bad.” He growled. Y/n could feel his boner pressing into her hip, his hands squeezed at her sides.

“Buggy..” Y/n whispered, biting her bottom lip, “Wait not in here—”

“I don’t care, I really don’t give a shit.” Buggy grumbled and looked around, trying to find a closet or something, “We haven’t fucked in a good week, I need this.” He huffed, then slapped Y/n’s ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

Y/n yelped and blushed at that action, pouting at Buggy before she pulled away and walked over to the large crate wagon that the crew just used to haul a bunch of props covered with a huge tarp, “Here, we can take some of this stuff off.” Y/n said, moving some of the props out and to the side. Buggy rushed to her side, throwing off some stuff as well; god he felt desperate.. I mean yeah he fucked Y/n like it was a hobby but he was literally throwing things so he could get some pussy.

After they had gotten most of the stuff off and made some room, Buggy picked Y/n up, making her squeak before he laid her down on her back, immediately getting on top of her and throwing that blanket over the both of them. “B-Buggy..” Y/n whispered, looking down and seeing Buggy’s rock hard boner press against her crotch.

Truth be told she wasn’t as pent up as Buggy was.. she had been so focused on making all of his shows perfect for him, sex wasn’t the first thing on her mind— but now that she was pinned down like this, she was starting to feel that same heat.

Buggy yanked her shorts down below her hips, sitting on his knees before grabbing her ankles and pulling her shorts and panties off completely and dropping them to the side. However, he took her panties and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply and groaning, “Fuck that’s good..” he growled.

Y/n blushed, already sweating from the enclosed space, Buggy’s heat radiating off of his body. He tossed her panties on top of her shorts before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. She watched him with eager eyes; she didn’t know why but she found it so attractive watching Buggy get his cock out, the way his forearms and muscles flexed with each movement, jerking his belt until it was open so he could get his throbbing, sensitive dick out.

He was already so sensitive from how much he had been jacking off.. the fabric of his boxers squeezing on his boner had nearly brought him to his knees as soon as he walked in here.

His hard cock bobbed upon being freed from his underwear, he groaned and jerked it a bit, making it leak a little pre. Y/n reached down between her legs to grasp at it, wrapping her hand around his length and rubbing it with him. “Yeah, that’s it baby..” he grunted, his abs already clenching at the feeling.

He hunched over her, one hand keeping his balance and the other held onto her hip as he started to guide his penis into her cunt, his tip swiped against her wet clit a few times before he slid in; eliciting moans and groans from the both of them. Y/n’s arms wrapped around Buggy’s neck, whimpering and mewling like a kitten just how he liked it, her pussy twitched around his cock, struggling to take him after so long without a good fucking.

Y/n squirmed, making Buggy squeeze her hip, “Take it.” He growled as he began to thrust; he was rough like always, but there was more force behind it this time, more desperation on his end. “B-Buggy..!” Y/n whimpered, trying to be as quiet as possible. Buggy was not trying to be as careful as she was, grunting and growling like a beast as he plowed into her like they haven’t fucked in decades. “Mmm..~ Buggy..~” Y/n moaned softly again, making Buggy’s cock throb inside of her, urging him to thrust even more; it felt so good.. hearing her say his name while he was going in, balls deep. Fuck.

The hand on her hip slid up to rest at the side of her neck, gently squeezing before he tilted his head and gave her a rough kiss, groaning into her mouth. His hips slammed against her crotch in a rough, rhythmic motion, growling and snarling, probably drooling all over the poor girl. He was a fucking mess.

Though the stubble scraping across her skin made her feel a little itchy, the burning sensation of pleasure from Buggy hitting her cervix easily overpowered the stubble itching. With the way Buggy was fucking into her she was not going to be able to walk properly for days, again.

Buggy’s groans and growls got louder and rougher, he moved his lips down to the nape of her neck and began attacking it savagely, sucking and licking at the skin, the sensation made Y/n let out a loud mewl, her legs wrapping around his torso as his movements sped up.

Both of his hands moved down to cup the sides of her ass, squeezing it as he continued ravaging her. Y/n gasped, her walls fluttering and twitching around him as she came, squirting lightly due to the sensation, “A-Ah~!!” She moaned.

“I’m close baby, I’m so fucking close.” Buggy grunted, squeezing her ass harder and slamming his hips into her even rougher, making her jolt and whine. It wasn’t long before he was spilling his seed into her, coating her walls with milky cum. They were both panting and moaning heavily. Buggy’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his muscles were twitching; this was what he needed.

He threw the tarp off the both of them, the cold air instantly hitting their warm, sweaty skins. Y/n was still panting hard, an arm folded over her torso as she leaned her head back. Buggy sat on his knees, still deep inside of her as his cum leaked out around his cock. He smirked and let out a breathy laugh, “You’re so fucking hot.” He panted as he rubbed Y/n’s side. “Yeah I feel fucking hot. Jeez.” Y/n groaned, sitting up on her elbows and looking down at Buggy’s cock still inside of her, that dark blue tuft of hair down below that trailed up, fading out slightly below his belly button.

Buggy pulled out, then moaned lightly as he watched his cum leak out of his girlfriend’s pussy. He lifted her thigh up slightly to spread her wider and get a better view. “Wait- stop, it’s gonna spill everywhere.” Y/n grumbled and attempted to close her legs, Buggy kept them spread wide though. “It’s fine I’ll clean it up, babe.” He whispered, watching her pussy leak until it was all out.

After getting cleaned up and putting all of the props back, Buggy watched as Y/n put her panties and shorts back on. He eyed her up, finding her body so god damn attractive.. he walked over to her once she was finished and put his hands on her waist, “Hey, you hungry? There’s a buffet down town in this area and I’ve been meaning to take you there.” He said, hands moving over her body, over her belly button then resting at her sides again.

Y/n smiled and looked up at him from behind, “Yeah, sure!”

#one piece #buggy one piece #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy headcanons #buggy imagines #one piece x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #buggy smut #opla #opla buggy #one piece live action

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XIII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of a small accidental cut on reader's hand and broken glass.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII

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

“Are you sure you don’t want me to heal it?” Shoko was covering a cut on your hand. “I’ll get it right this time.” She had disinfected and treated the small cut, and now she had secured the bandage tightly around your palm.

Shoko had found you fumbling around in the infirmary for something to cover your cut with. She was still just starting to dive in the possibilities of her healing technique, but when she held your hand with such care, you had no doubt: She will make a great doctor.

“Are you sure you don’t just want another test subject for your technique?”

She smiled. “I have plenty of those,” but her smile faltered as she saw your eyes fixed on your injured hand, “so don’t make it a habit of showing up hurt. I don't need more practice, okay?”

When your eyes flickered back to her, you saw her gaze was softer.

The cut in your hand was not deep, and it was not the work of a curse of any sort; in fact, the reason was pretty mundane: a crystal-made object had broken in your room, and you had hurt yourself accidentally when trying to pick the pieces up. That was what you had told Shoko, and that was what you were going to tell anyone who asked.

Although that was a summarized version of the truth. Something had been broken, yes, but that had been Gojo’s fault, or so it seemed, but you were not sure. In his words, it was an accident.

You wanted to believe him. He was not the type to break things when upset after all. However, it felt as if your friendship was breaking apart as well, and that, you did not know how to mend.

***

Satoru had been odd around you for the last couple of weeks, and he had been particularly upset after you showed up a few minutes late to his birthday lunch, as if he himself did not show up late everywhere, every time. Then he stopped by your room to invite you to the arcade with him and Suguru as if everything had been perfectly normal.

“What’s this?” He was trying to peek into the paper bag sitting on your desk while you were looking for a sweater that was warm enough. “Late birthday present?”

“Why do you think everything is a present for you? I already gave you one for your birthday”, was your response as you finally pulled the sweater you had been looking for from your closet. “Don’t touch it, it’s frail.”

That made him arch an eyebrow.

You narrowed your eyes in his direction as a warning. Satoru was nosy, always had been. When he was a kid and you refused to tell him something, he would sulk until you gave in. Telling him you knew something he did not know was an easy way to tease him, and he had not changed much.

You stood next to him and took the contents out of the bag, taking off the wrapping that was meant to protect it, and held it up to him. A pretty crystal figure you had gotten during your last outing. The item could be considered a collectible of an anime you liked, but it was nicely shaped, and it had been the way it looked in the light what had caught your eye at the store where you got it.

Satoru was not a fan of that same anime, but even he recognized it was a pretty thing. He was about to grab it when you said “A bit pricey too, but Haruki helped me buy it.”

You did not notice how his smile dropped.

“So I guess it technically belongs to both of us, but he said I could keep it.”

It had been a most generous gesture. When Haruki had seen how much you wanted to take the figure home, he was more than willing to pitch in a little despite your protests. You assured him you would pay him back as soon as you could, but he said it was fine; he liked that franchise too, so it was not a loss to him.

Satoru’s hands were redirected to his pockets. “That was nice of him.”

You nodded and put the figure on your desk, admiring it. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

He hummed in response, and you said “Well, we should get going if…”

“I thought you didn’t like it when people bought you stuff.” Gojo’s gaze was fixed on the figure you had just put on your desk.

He was recalling the gifts he had presented to you through the years. More than one had been “overpriced”, “too much”, or “too lavish” for your taste. You had always been too ready to decline anything from him, but you had no issues with accepting someone else’s help?

“And I do not,” you tried to decipher his expression, “but I paid for it too, and it’s different.” You were going to pay Haruki back, no matter what he had said.

“Because it’s him?” Satoru’s eyes focused on you.

“Huh?”

“Is it different because it’s him and you just do whatever he says?” His tone was calm, so much that it reminded you of the way Suguru sometimes reverted with the snarkiest remark while sounding completely disinterested.

It’s rubbing off on him.

“What do you mean I do whatever he says?”

Satoru knew he should bite his tongue before saying anything that could backfire, but he did not.

“If he says you will like something, you try it; if he tells you to accept something, you take it; and if he asks you to stay with him for a little longer, you’ll do it even if it means you’ll ditch your friend on his birthday.”

All right, he had said it.

“I said I was sorry for being late. How many times do you want me to apologize for it?” You understood why he could have been upset; you really did. But why was he fixating on it so much?

Sure, you and Haruki shared a lot of interests, so his recommendations were often good. And he had been so intent on helping you buy that figure that refusing him would have been rude, and yes, you had been with him that day you were late for Satoru’s lunch, but that had not the reason, and the main event was going to be his birthday dinner anyway (because yes, Satoru insisted on having a birthday breakfast, a birthday lunch and a birthday dinner). You could take the blame for making it late one time, but he was taking it out of proportion.

He sat down on the chair at your desk. “I thought you were not going to come.” Satoru sounded deflated.

Still…

“Satoru, I wouldn’t…”

“If you had to choose, who do you like better…” You thought he was looking at the crystal-made you had gotten, but he was actually looking at the small, framed picture behind it that portrayed two kids. Satoru tried to remember if it was from four or five years ago.

Before high school, you had never attended the same school. Satoru’s family did not allow it, but he was able to sneak out a handful of times when you invited him to your school festivals.

Maybe their last year of elementary school or the first of junior high?

He remembered how you pulled him around all day, introducing him to your friends and showing him around your school.

“Don’t you have to be with your friends?” he had asked referring to your classmates, who seemed to be expecting you join them on a walk around the stalls.

You looked at them and declined with a smile. “No, they are fine without me. Besides, I like you better.”

And when a friend of yours offered to take a picture of you with the camera she had borrowed, you pulled him closer to you and smiled brightly. If he focused, he could hear the shutter sound of the camera.

“Why would you ask me that?” You tried to look at his eyes behind his glasses. You thought he should know the answer, but it was not a fair question, so you settled for just stating the facts. “Both of you are my friends.”

That single phrase seemed to have slapped Satoru on the face and he turned his head to look at you.

“True, but you are not just any friend. And you know it, don’t you, Satoru?”

No, Ikeda. You were wrong.

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered.

“Would you be able to pick between me and Suguru?” You were not meaning to irritate him, but that should give him some perspective. Whenever he was not with you, he was with Suguru. It was evident he cared deeply for him.

He frowned. “It’s not the same. You like him too.”

“Because I gave him a chance. You never gave one to Haruki.”

Satoru shook his head, standing up. “And that makes us the same to you?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Of course not. You are like no other.

Could you really tell him that? It did not matter, he did not give you the time.

“Fine... I really don’t get you sometimes.”

“You don’t get me?” you scoffed. “You are unrecognizable. Why are you so pissed out all the time these days.”

He sighed, took off his glasses and put them on your desk. “Just…”

You were right. He had been uneasy since that chat with Ikeda (not that he had told you about it), but he had gone there because of you. He did not need that guy trying to get in his head, telling him he liked you, or that he was a coward. He did not need any of that.

What a terrible idea that was.

If he had not gone there, maybe he would not feel as confused, as if he needed to scream something but not knowing what it was.

Now you were looking at him with a question in your eyes, but he was not sure he could answer.

“Just...you should head out, okay?” he finally said.

“This is my room.”

“I mean, Suguru will be waiting for us.” He scratched the back of his neck.

You knew he meant ‘I don’t want to fight you now.’

“Fine.” You turned on your heels and walked out with Satoru following you but left him behind quickly.

Always a fast walker when they are upset, Satoru thought.

He was about to close the door of your room when he membered he was forgetting something.

There, his sunglasses were sitting on top of your desk. He rushed to the side of your desk and grabbed them, and maybe it was the swift motion of his arm, or he might have bumped the side of your desk lightly, but as he was running back for the door, a shattering noise reached him, and next thing he knew, he was looking at a bunch of crystal pieces on the floor.

Shit.

Satoru’s heart rate picked up as if he were about to fight a curse as he walked out and closed the door slowly. How was he going to tell you?

His hand was still on the doorknob when he heard your voice. “Satoru?”

You were coming back for him after realizing he was not following behind. “What are you doing?” You looked at him. Why was he holding your doorknob and looking at the floor?

He turned to look at you, but he did not move his hand. “I will replace it.”

“Replace it?”

“I’m sorry.” He turned the doorknob and the door swung open.

You passed him by to enter your dorm. “What are you talk-?”, you did not finish the question when you saw the mess next to your desk. Your crouched down in front of it. It had shattered entirely; you picked up the base, the only piece somewhat still recognizable.

“You are going to get hurt. Let me…” Satoru was crouching next to you.

“Are you hurt?” You moved away from him.

“[name]…”

“How?” Satoru thought he saw tears forming in your eyes. He avoided your gaze.

“It was an accident. I came back for my...”

“Are you hurt?” You were not looking at him anymore but at the million pieces scattered in front of you.

“No.”

He saw you bite your lip and nod from the corner of his eye. “Then… You should go. I’ll clean this up.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No.”

“I can pay for it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay to have broken it.” You wiped away a stray tear. Was it anger or sadness?

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Satoru defended.

“Wasn’t it?”

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“Okay. Then let me clean it up. Please tell Geto I’ll join you next time.”

Satoru did not feel like you believed him, but still, he stood up. “I really am sorry.”

He saw you nod and headed out.

He only left because he knew you. You were probably too angry to talk to him now. He would beg for forgiveness later and try to make it up to you. Perhaps he could ask Ikeda where you had gotten the item, but he really did not want to talk to him again.

Even if you could just take the money for it, would that make things right between you and him?

Boy, what a mess.

***

“He snapped at you too?” Shoko grinned at Suguru.

Geto just rolled his eyes and sat by her side.

“He is in a bad mood.” The dark-haired boy shrugged. “Is there any way you can ask [name] to hurry? I'm starving.”

“I doubt it.” She sighed and looked wistfully at the food in front of them and then at Gojo, who had left the table for the third time to wash his hands. He was fidgety when he waited, especially when he waited for you.

She was not going to call you. She had tried that, but your phone had probably died. Maybe if she prayed silently, her wish would reach you.

Hurry up, [name]. Annoying birthday boy won't let us eat until you are here.

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

Note: Sorry for not updating sooner (sigh...what a week). It might happen again but as always, thank you for reading!

Next: Part XIV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk drabbles #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #pay it no mind

[hwan-g]

I WAS ALL OVER HER. (bang chan)

pair. ex soldier! chris x fem! reader | genre. attraction at first sight, bartender mc, angst, smut | warnings. smoking, profanity, mentions of trauma, mental struggle, flawed characters, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus | word count. 5.7k

synopsis. you get off exactly at two o’clock every night. chris is patient—he drinks, and watches. you don’t look very happy where you are. he wants to change that, wants to know why. he’s not happy, either. but he could be, maybe. with you. for you.

Every man in there has been flirting with you.

You appear oblivious to it, and maybe that’s exactly it—a pretense, a hoax, because this is how you pay the bills and keep your job, and now Chris sees you under a different light, no more the deer in the headlights, but rather the car heading straight for the poor animal, foot on the gas, unyielding.

Not quite so innocent, and nothing about this place is. Lee Minho’s own bar, his pride and joy, bleeding reds and yellows, a jukebox from the late eighties bought at an auction placed aesthetically by the window wall with the neon sign and the street lamps outside. It’s all very purposeful, very strategic. A house of cards, if you ask the man sitting at the bar, sporting a whiskey-on-the-rocks in his strong hand, but what isn’t? Everything collapsing, all at once, constantly—he’s seen that, too, a thousand times.

His rib cage feels restricting, his breath hitches. You’re bending over the ice cooler, and he can clearly see the trace of your underwear underneath the black linen skirt. Your ass curves deliciously, and his palms are suddenly itchy. No, Chris is no different than the men polluting this establishment, nor has he ever claimed to be. He’ll show you a good time if you’re up for it, but he won’t beg, won’t even pick up the courage to flirt his way into that sinful fucking skirt. Black suits you.

He doesn’t stand a chance. And he’s not a creep, not for the most part, at least.

He’s been a regular, though. You know his name and he knows yours. He heard about your grandma passing and that one time your car broke down in the middle of nowhere and you had no one to call except for your boss. He almost volunteered that night; almost opened his stupid mouth, muttered something he would never be able to take back—you can call me, I’ll always come—but he didn’t, because there had also been a boyfriend for a while back then, too. Tall and lanky, covered in tattoos and bad decisions. Chris knows all about those, but what he didn’t know—

What you saw in that guy. How he took you home once and then kept taking you, in multiple ways he supposed, burying between your legs, kissing your lips and laying a claim on you everytime he got the goddamn chance—he’s glad the fucker’s gone, but not glad for the broken heart and the tears. Oh, and the shots. You’d been too drunk to stand, could barely talk. Still, Chris wasn’t the one to take care of you then, either, though he’d jumped out of his chair the moment he saw you swaying. Hands as fists, teeth clenched, he saw Minho carry you to the back, then called for Jisung to come and close the bar for the night.

He’d been an observer his whole life. And when he wasn’t—when he showed up, took initiative, buzzed his hair and made a choice—it all went to shit. Two years of goddamn sand, sunburns, bullets scratching past his thick fucking head, innocent civilians dying before his eyes, his own arms raising a rifle, pointing, threatening. Killing. Lots of that, mostly that, and orders. So many fucking orders he could recite them in his sleep, if he had any of that. Insomnia was a hell of a bitch, as it turns out, and she’ll see you know that. She’ll make sure of it.

Sergeant, take your comrade and go back! This is an order from your captain. Do you fucking hear me? It was a suicide mission, for fuck’s sake—

But enough of that. He does a lot of remembering on his own. He’s there to forget about it all for a while. He’s there to look at you, to observe your hands fixing other men drinks, to fantasize having those same hands wrapped around his cock, to feel how they would work him over the edge, how much or how little you’d squeeze, if you’d take him in your mouth, how your lips would pucker to suck him in, his head falling back, breathing rugged, his entire body in full attention, very similar to his training days, mud up to his knees—

It’s only been six months. You’ll go back to normal in no time, they’d said. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to give us a call on our office number. He had a lot of those. Concerns. Mostly about the dead people behind closed eyelids, how they moved and moaned his name even though he never told them, or just the simple fucking question of his mind—it’s all jumbled now, it replays memories like a broken record, and cannot seem to shut the fuck up, not even for a single moment. Chris feels like he’s drowning, most of his days. Neck deep in water, surrounded by bulletproof glass, no way in, no way out. What to do about that?

Leave a message after the beep, apparently. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.

He’d like to flirt with you. He’d like to say one thing and then keep pouring out, keep saying, keep talking, if only to have your eyes on him, to keep your gaze trained on him, to have your undivided attention. But to hear your voice reply back, to invest in him, to listen and have words for him. He craves your words, the way your mouth would curve around the syllables, how your lipstick will coat your sentences, so that when they travel they reach their destination sweeter than ever.

Chris is starved. Of many things, yes, but of what you have to offer him. Of what he wants to ask of you. It’s a specific hunger, wanting you, one that’s hard to shake. So, he doesn’t. He couldn’t possibly.

The men continue ogling. He considers it a mercy to let them—to his friend, but to you, also. ‘Heaven knows I’m miserable now’ starts playing on the old piece of junk in the corner, the guy responsible for the choice of song going back to his booth, cherry cigarette glinting amongst a rain of color. Chris tries not to smoke in front of you, you’ve probably inhaled enough of it to last you a lifetime, but it’s times like these, times he can’t seem to stand himself—

“Really, Al?” You ask the record player, and the man shrugs, lifts his glass your way.

“It’s one of those days, doll.”

It is, indeed.

“And you?”

It takes Chris a full five seconds to realize you’re addressing him. Why? Which God should he thank? And how to form coherent sentences when your eyes are piercing through him like a million knives? He wraps his hand tighter around his drink, hoping you don’t notice how undone, how completely in your web he is now—a caving man, ready to fall on his knees for you. You could do anything you want, you could spit at him for all he cared, kick his sorry ass out, as long as you didn’t take your eyes away.

His voice comes out raspy, distorted. Alien. A false sense of confidence.

“What about me, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks are flushed, your eyebrows knit together as if you don’t quite understand what he’s asking. His eyes travel to where your shirt has ridden up to reveal the soft skin of your waist, though he doesn’t let himself indulge too long. Chris would love to have you under him, to guide your hands over his bullet wounds and his own down the hills and mountains of you. But how to get you away from here, how to take a girl like you from this impenetrable tower he’s locked you in. He laid down the bricks, he cemented you in place to keep you out of his life, when all he’s ever wanted to do was let you take over everything, let you annihilate, destroy, build anew.

He really can’t fucking stand himself.

“You look sad, Chris.”

I’m sorry. His fingers search for the pack in his jacket, slipping a stick between his teeth, bringing the flame close, and inhaling. You blink and busy yourself with wiping down the counter, but he can tell you don’t like it when he smokes, him in particular, a question mark he’s burning to know the answer to. Do you care? Do you care like I do?

How simple it’d be, to be sad. A state that will pass, chemistry of the brain that can easily be overturned, switched with a quick fix of serotonin. It almost makes him laugh. No, what he is—wretched, forlorn. A rotting corpse somewhere in the Middle East. If he were to guess, he came back, some fucking semblance of him, only for you. And he’s fucking it up, he’s letting you slip right through his very hands. You’re single now, but for how long? How fucking long will it take for him to grow the balls and tell you straight up?

Tear me apart and put me back together. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. I’m all fucking wrong now, but you can fix me. God, I’ll let you. Say the word and I’ll let you.

His lips quirk, a bitterness enveloping him. “Yeah? Is that what I am?”

You turn your back to leave a beer to the man on the other side of the bar, and he misses you already. Chris obliges you when you look ready to make small talk with him. He’s even cracked a joke or two on occasion, just to feel that constricting feeling in his chest again, the one that warms his bones and makes his ears ring. The sound of your laughter is intoxicating, unlike anything he’s ever heard, but much like a bomb. Devastating. Impossible to ignore. Today’s not one of those days.

The clock on the wall reads one-fifteen. He’s faintly aware of the sputtering on the window, the rain that’s coming or is already here. He’ll have to go home soon. He wonders if you’ll come. He wonders if he’ll ask you to.

When you turn around, he thinks the rainbow’s already out. The worst has passed.

And then you lean in. Towards him. The cigarette in his mouth stills, his heart stops. He can smell you, the sweetness of you, the warmth of your hair, and he’s surely dreaming. You’ve never done that before. He’s never let you. But you’re here now, so close he could exhale in your mouth, so close there’d be a misunderstanding, could be considered an invitation—

“I’m here if you need to talk, you know?” Your eyes are real empathetic. They make him sick to his stomach.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Brick after brick.

“There’s nothing to say, baby girl.” Tell me what shampoo you use. Do you have trouble sleeping at night? What are you doing in this bar?

Let me take you away. Come with me.

You don’t believe him. “Promise?”

The side of his mouth curves again. He muses at the cherry between his thumb and index. “Scout’s honor.”

You walk away from him, time and time again. Angel hair framing, devil’s body swaying, those fucking lips taunting.

“If you say so, Christopher Bang.”

What do I know, sweetheart. What do I fucking know.

He waits. He’s real good at waiting, too.

Chris thinks about your proximity earlier and can’t seem to let it fucking go. In that same sense, he could do anything, and he ponders over that leaning against the exit, knowing you’re in the background of him, sweeping, putting chairs up, washing the glass his lips have touched, and isn’t that a closeness as well, a different one, one that matters more than anything else or ever?

He feels like he’s on the verge of something tonight, and for once he’d like to know what it is. He wants to screw concepts like control and restrain and just grab you—hold you—press his nose against your cheek. You’re such a vague emotion for him, he doesn’t know what to do with you, how to start, he just wants, he just craves, and that same hunger stirs again, the one that never goes away, the one that started the first night he ever set foot in this place, the soft opening, and he saw you, and you looked at him, and he was gone.

Have you ever felt that way? Do you want to? Is it even a sane feeling to have? It never ends for him, never stops. Not the war, not you, not the orders, and maybe control isn’t so overrated, maybe he still has time to pull it all together enough to walk to his car and go sleep it off on his empty bed with the colorless sheets and the humidity that clings on and to and from everything.

His waiting had a purpose, though. He has to go through with it.

Hyunjin, your little helper on Saturday’s, comes out the door with a backpack strap on one shoulder, cig drooping between full lips, brown hair falling out of a loose bun. Chris barely glances at him, before tapping his boot on the cobblestone underneath him, and focusing his gaze back towards the light coming from the street lamp on the other side of the street. It’s drizzling now, but he wishes to see that magnificent lightning crack once more, to feel thunder under his skin, the water pouring down on him like karma from times passed.

Some sort of punishment, surely, he deserves. He fought for a country that won’t even acknowledge him, lost friends he’s known since he was four years old learning how to ride a bicycle, and his mind is somewhere left behind trying to dig itself out of the thick of it, and for that—surely, surely for that—redemption will not come, but cruelness? Cruelness must. It has to.

“She’s been sleeping with Minho, you know,” the pretty boy says exhaling clouds of smoke. Chris watches them morph then dissolve into nothing.

He knew that. It was bound to happen at some point.

“You come so often and yet never say anything at all, man. What do you think she’s gonna do? Wait?”

There’s humor in that, he supposes. Wait, yes, one option. He has, he thinks, for so long. It’s never crossed his mind to stop, to look elsewhere, to find someone else. It’s who he is, it’s how it works with him. But were you anything else besides a princess locked in a tower with a dragon, a tower he’d build you, and it keeps coming up because it’s true, it won’t seize just because it doesn’t fit the narrative in his stupid head. He has no right to feel anger, no reason why he should feel wronged. Minho is your boss, you’ve worked for him for a good while, you’re pretty, beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon, and Minho’s cunning. Handsome. Successful.

Why the hell not? No, he doesn’t fault you. He can’t.

It doesn’t sting less coming from someone else.

Chris asks what is obvious. “How’d you know? About me?”

Hyunjin lifts his hands in front of him. “Tunnel vision. It’s like you see no one else,” he pauses to take another drag of what looks like a Camel. “Kinda obsessive, don’t you think?”

Yes. If I knew better I’d walk away right now. But he won’t. Because he doesn’t care that someone else has you, has had you, will eventually have you. It’s you he wants, not the pretty packaging, no matter the fantasies and hard ons. You, he wants to talk to you, bring you in his car and dissect you, learn about you, hear you speak, let you address him how you do—Christopher—his full name taking shape, blooming, transforming into something else just because it came out of your mouth.

He’s never let himself think about kissing you, not really. But, God, would that feel a resurrection.

The door opens again.

“Hyun, what—oh.”

The boy smiles, dips his head at Chris and walks away, two fingers up and swiftly moving as goodbye. Your phone is pressed on your ear, and you look tired. He was wrong to sit there and demand. He was wrong to expect, to assume. Embarrassment creeps, and the back of his neck feels hot. He bites on his tongue and tastes metal.

“I’ll call you back,” you say to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, no, maybe not tonight. Okay,” your eyes on him. “Okay, bye.”

He can’t help himself. “You had plans.”

Your lips curve, and your skirt is so fucking short. He could bend you over right then and there. He could have his way with you, and walk away forever. Get you out of his system, strip you from him. How easy it all sounds.

“I have new ones now,” you simply say, and take a step towards him. “Why are you still here, Chris?”

You’re begging him for the truth. This time he thinks he can give it to you. “Because you’re here.”

You blink and shift on your legs. Your boots are black, leather. Tall. Still not taller than him. You look into him like you know him and it pisses him off. He wants you so badly his insides twist and turn against him. He could die with this want, he almost has. Move closer. Reach out. Keep your eyes on mine.

I could fuck you so good. Almost as good as you fuck me.

“And that means?”

He swallows. He doesn’t think. “Whatever you allow it to mean.”

Your huff is bitter, your gaze manic. You’ve had a few drinks, laughed with a couple customers, let them slip you tips and led them on until you couldn’t, and he watched it all. He won’t say it out loud, but you’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you. If so, why don’t you give out? Why must you starve him like this?

He lights another cigarette just to see you care again.

You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth, and glare at him. He grins. You shake your head, and cross your arms, fake mad. Look how good you’re playing this game. What if you played forever? What if you played it in his bed or his car?

“I’ve fucked your friends,” you admit, but he thinks it’s supposed to hurt, because there’s an edge to your voice. “Jisung still has my clothes. Minho thought we were gonna fuck in the back after work yesterday. I almost let him. His fingers were inside my cunt for the longest.”

I could kill them. I could wear the arms that aren’t mine and pick up a gun again. But you want this reaction.

“Is that so, sweetheart,” he says carefully, concealing any sign of acid jealousy running rampant inside of him.

“You didn’t come yesterday.”

You do care. I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“You are a blind man, Christopher,” you scorn him, eyes turning vile.

He’s losing you before he’s even had you. You told him loud and clear, and he still won’t dare lift his hands from his ears. This needs to be something more. He needs to make it so, build on it. The smoke burns his eyes, burns you. Let it burn me alive. He had you, somehow. He walked the line, treaded carefully, and found you in the middle, like a mirage. Where you weren’t before, you appeared suddenly. It had been like that for a while, and he’d never dared lift his head up, in fear you disappeared, in fear of missing you.

“Show me, then,” he rasped. He watched your hands as you locked the entrance, as you hesitated to turn back. “Come with me.”

You were hurt. “And let you become one of them? You’re not one of them, Chris.”

You’re right. They’ll never want you like I do. But to go from one point to the next—something needed to give.

“I won’t touch you,” he licked his lips, stepping back, stepping down. “I swear it.”

Something he didn’t expect you to do—snatch the Marlboro right out of his mouth, stick it in yours. Your saliva mixing, the tobacco running down your throats, blackening your lungs. He was staring. You looked back just as defiantly. The rain was nowhere to be seen.

She’s testing me. Measuring up.

“Fucking liar,” you accuse. “Say that again and look at me straight.”

Chris started walking, instead. You exclaimed and laughed triumphantly. But if you followed, he didn’t check. He almost didn’t want you to, couldn’t trust himself with the promise he made, and isn’t that how he mostly gets himself in trouble—words that can’t seem to match his actions. He’s fucked himself over too many times like this. Surely there’s some sort of award for that.

“You have been nothing but a coward and that’s why you’re running away, even now, even knowing what you know.”

The need to make you shut up was raw and primal. It made his teeth grit, his fists clench. It also made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What do you know about running away, baby girl?” He spat, turning his head half way. “You think it’s easy?”

He heard them, then. Your footsteps.

He almost smiled, the crazy bastard.

“Yes, I do,” you retorted stubbornly. “My ride is gone and I stayed. What do you think that means?”

Don’t love me. Don’t get in the same pit, six feet under.

“You’re playing with me.”

“No more than you are with me.”

It took exactly three strides to reach you, to bury his fist in your hair and bring your face flush against his. Your breath hitched, your eyes grew wide, wild—he’d caught you off guard, he was rough, angry, furious. If he passed his forearm under your ass you’d shoot your legs up and around his waist in surprise, perhaps desire even, that was simple to calculate, but—what then?

Chris would fuck you tonight. He knew fuck all about anything else that had to do with you, but your very scent spoke to him. You were turned on, you were fucking wet. For him. Your knees squeezed together, he felt it against his pants. He bets you can feel him, as well. He wanted you to.

“Dangerous path you’re treading there,” he mumbles against your mouth. His fingers dig deeper in your scalp, he wants to feel your heartbeat over his, he wants it to accelerate, to make you dizzy, to surrender, to give in, finally, for fuck’s sake. “We’re not very good at bluffing with each other, are we, baby girl?”

You did something, then, something he hadn’t counted on—you leaned in, you let go. Chris almost flinched away, almost locked you back in that room, in that tower, away away away.

“You should kiss me,” barely a whisper, barely a command. “I want you to kiss me.”

There was no logic behind that, if that were to happen he’d— “I’m not gonna stop,” he warns, pleads. “I have—I have been starving for you…for so long, (Y/N). If you know what you’re doing, know I’m not gonna stop.”

You blinked, and then you smiled. “No one’s stopping you.”

He continued, entranced, drunk, insane, “I’m not going to fucking be one of them. You’re gonna stay with me. We’re gonna give this a try.”

“You’re delusional.”

You kiss him first. You end it first.

His car is right there, so close, so far, but he’s clutching your shirt, your hair, your face, your hip, and it’s so fucking hot, no, you are, you’re the hottest thing he’s ever touched, he could burst into ashes and smoke right there if it were possible, perhaps he wants to, perhaps making the first move was never an option for him—

Your teeth click against his and it hurts but it feels good, like violence, like the battlefield, and he wants to show you—what the bullet feels like piercing the skin, what hands as guns are capable of, how truly terrifying it is to not be in control of your own life, of your own destiny; Chris is sure you’re holding that red string for the both of you. You could snap it, twist it, break it. Maybe you should. Maybe there’s still time to put a full stop to this, the what if’s are too many, his head is spinning, his cock is fully erect, he’s—

Fuck him, he’s really holding you right now, isn’t he? He’s backtracking you to privacy, he’s looking for the keys in his back pocket, and you’re going along with it like you would’ve all along. It pisses him off. He wants to tear you apart, limb from limb, not quite aware of how dark that sounds, only the insistent pulse of hunger present.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathe into him. He staggers, scared of your thought-reading abilities. “Not for my sake.”

There’s one bone chilling moment where he pulls back and stares at you. In the feverish dream, he could pretend this was all make believe, that he had most likely passed out on the bar stool waiting for you to close, or even further, that he was still choking down sand next to dead bodies and machine guns—to actually—actually think you craved something like this?

After all the pushing and pulling? After Jisung’s embarrassed unanswered calls, Minho’s obnoxious smirk, Hyunjin’s shame inducing comments?

“You want this,” he tests, stricken. Confused.

You dare roll your eyes at him, closing the door after you. You’re properly straddling him now, your core pressing where he needs you most, and his hips buck, instinctively, his arms steadying you unconsciously. He wants to do it again, goes for it, but you meet him halfway, and it’s as good an answer as any. What comes out of your mouth, not quite a moan or a quiver—heaven, it must be, the gates opening, welcoming.

“I’m here, Christopher,” you say, and—

Say it again. Say it again and again and again. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.

“Isn’t that enough? Get it through your head or I’m leaving.”

He does. He tries. He undresses you slowly, whatever he can reach, whatever’s accessible, and you let him, you stroke his shoulders, relax them, tense them to the point of fucking stiffness, but he can’t tell you that, he’s got one chance, he’s fucking taking it, he won’t miss, he won’t back down.

When he goes in to kiss you again, you press your naked chest over his thin tank top, and even then, he feels it—your pointing nipples, how hard they are, asking for attention. His hand comes out to reach for your neck, creating space by pushing you back, his tongue quickly wrapping around one bud, nibbling, sucking, teasing. You shudder, and his dick twitches. Holding you like this, applying just enough pressure to induce pain but making it manageable, he learned it for other purposes, it was never supposed to be for this, never for this—

He thinks he can begin using it for pleasure now. For something softer, more innocent. For you. On you.

You slip his thumb past your lips, licking over it, and he looks up through dark eyelashes, watches you do it, fantasizes about that mouth and how it would feel in other places, but he doesn’t want that from you now. He’d rather bury himself between your legs. He’d like to think you’ll have more time for everything else, more miracle chances.

Chris can smell your arousement. You’re practically soaking his pants with how you’re dry humping his thigh. He loves watching you losing yourself, he’d just love it even more if you were doing it with his cock inside you. His nails dig into your waist, his wanting unbearable, uncontrollable.

He’s shaking with the sheer force of it, though he would never truly admit it to himself.

You release his finger, and he brings you back, hand getting lost at your nape, holding you there, boring his eyes into yours, searching, asking, verifying. You’re so warm, his girl. The girl he’s wanted for so long, he’s dreamed of, has fought for in a silent war—before he even knows what he’s doing, he pulls you in for a hug, forgetting his own flesh, his desire.

You’re warm. Are you always this warm? Will you let me have this? I’ve been cold for so long, so fucking long…

“We’ve waited too long, don’t you think?” You mumble in his ear. You fall into him, relax your weight. Crush me. Let me feel you. “Do it, Chris. Please.”

Yes. Yes, you’re right. “I want you to know,” he starts, voice cracking, full of emotion. “I’ve lived through Hell wasting all that time. I’ve thought about death and addiction, and about how none of that could ever fucking compare to having you, like this, one day. You’ve kept me straight, sweetheart. Sane.”

It takes only a second for the words to register, before you’re unbuckling his belt, unzipping, hand getting lost, and he holds his breath through all of it, holds you even tighter, and when you finally, finally, have him in your hand, he pulls your panties to the side and guides you over, slams you down, on him. You bite his lip to keep from screaming out and he only digs deeper in your cunt.

“Take them off,” you cry out, trying to move by your own volition. He won’t let you. “Take them off now.”

He reaches behind your back and rips the thin fabric off you, throwing it on the driver's seat. Then he’s fucking into you full force, pistoling his hips up into your warmth, feeling you squeeze around him, your mouth sucking on his neck, the car heavy with your breathing, windows smudged. When he’s not guiding your hips, he’s gripping your ass, he’s abusing your waist by smacking you down on his length, hard, forcefully, painfully by the scrunch of your brows, but the way you take it all—the way you’re blossoming over him, hungrier than he is, a slut dripping for him, for his cock, for the way it fills you up, the way he fills you up—

Chris is convinced your pussy was made for him, he fits so perfectly inside it. Your rhythm is manic, chasing, brutal, but you’re so wet, so fucking wet, it feels so good, he needs you to know, he needs you to hear it, something else other than his cock burying, fuck, fuck, baby girl, your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt, I wanna be inside it forever, I’m gonna fill you up so good, look at you, look how you’re moving on me, let me see you, sweetheart, let me taste it, I bet you taste incredible; God I could fuck you all night, I could ruin you, I want to, you’re gonna fucking kill me.

“I’m going to cum,” you rasp, breathless, turned on beyond belief. “Chris, I’m going to fucking cum, fuck, just like that, please, don’t stop, faster, please, please…”

He drills into you one last time, two, three, before his arms fully wrap around you and envelop you, bodies shaking, releasing. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and you’ve made a mess of his car seat. He could give less of a fuck about the stain, it’s the smell that’s driving him crazy, his musk mixed with yours, the desire stirring in the pit of his stomach, the way he wants to throw you in the backseat and to take you from behind as well.

His cock empties itself inside you in aftershocks, and your rocking hips against him are not helping. He wants to pin you down but can’t bring himself to do it. It feels overwhelming, good as fuck, to know you want him this much, even if just like this, it’s a start, it’s something he can work with.

“Never fucked in a car before,” you admit, dazed, giggling.

The sound tickles him.

“Took your first time, then, didn’t I?” He retorts, aware of how ridiculous it sounds.

But then you lean back, your gaze grows serious, you stop squirming. He listens, he tunes in.

“Wish you had,” you say. “My first time was in a back alley of a club. I was drunk and left to find my own way back afterwards… Not quite a decision I’m proud of.”

Chris’ heart dropped. “Consensual?”

You nodded. “Not to worry.” But the smile you threw at him didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I wonder how it would’ve been, though, if it was you from the start. You joined the army so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

His worst mistake. Something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Chris gently lifts you from his lap and lays your upper half body on the seat next to him, quickly propping one knee where he was sitting, grabbing your hips and passing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal, hands clutching at your chest, as you watch him.

He boyishly grins your way before digging in your pussy, slurping away, cleaning you dry. The sound that came out of your mouth upon contact, fucking hell, he’ll never forget it. His cock rose in full attention again, his heart melted right off his goddamn chest. And you kept making it, kept giving it to him, sending him straight to his grave, moaning his name like that, his full name, as his tongue lapped, his nose nudging your clit.

Fuck no, you weren’t cumming. He wouldn’t let you. Not yet.

He withdrew his mouth, lowering you gently but still having a forearm under and across your waist. You kept your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in quick motions.

“Now I can take you home.”

Your hand in his, he brought you back to his lap, held you until you calmed down. He kissed your lips and let you taste yourself. He looked at you and looked at you and looked at you.

You weren’t going anywhere.

“This could be something,” you muse quietly, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Chris bit down a chuckle, nodded softly in agreement.

“Let it,” he responded. “Let it be.”

You didn’t move an inch. A minute or a year passed, it was hard to tell. Then, ever so agonizingly slow, you tilted your head.

You smiled.

Fuck me.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @streetlight-s, @amnmich, @imtoooyoungforthisshit.

#stray kids scenarios #bang chan scenarios #skz scenarios #chan scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #skz fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #—mine.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

reader getting upset over a prank the boys pulled on her and boyfriend!remus trying to make it up to her

not sure how i feel about this one, but i started writing it thinking i was writing a blurb then it just spilled out; i hope you like it! it was a fun one

pairing: Remus x reader

word count: 1.5k (not proofread, sorry)

“Y/N?” Another knock. “Y/N, c’mon, love. Please open the door.” He’d been at it for a while, and you finally go to your door. You open it, flip him off, and shut it in his face again. “I get that you’re upset, okay? We messed up, but I swear we thought it would only last a few minutes!” You open the door again, glaring at him, and make an aggressive shooing gesture. You’re shutting it again, but Remus puts his foot in the door to jam it. “Hey, sweetheart, c’mon, let me just talk to you, okay?” He looks like he’s approaching a feral animal as he scoots his way into the room with his hands up. With how angry you are, he might as well be. 

You stomp over to your desk and write something on your notebook. You hold it up for him, and it reads, I CAN’T talk you moron!

He chuckles. Bad idea — if your seething glare could kill him, it would. You throw the notebook back on the desk, stomp over to him, and attempt to push him out your door. He’s much stronger than you, and though he lets you jostle him, he doesn’t leave. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry; I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve laughed, lovely. I’m sorry,” he rushes. You stop trying to push him over the threshold. 

“We had an oral exam in Herbology today, you complete arsehole!” you yell at him, and —you’d been holding out hope that it wouldn’t — but your voice comes out just as high and squeaky as it had been all day. You sound completely ridiculous, like you’d just inhaled unreasonable amounts of helium. It makes sounding angry impossible, and you can tell Remus is fighting back a laugh. Not being taken seriously when you’re so upset drives you even further into your rage. You groan frustratedly, and worse, you do something you tend to do when you’re angry: start crying. You cover your face and turn away from him. “Fuck. Hey, don’t cry, love.” He comes toward you and puts his hands on your shoulders.

You push him away and snap, whispering this time in the hopes of sounding less silly (you don’t), “I’m not sad; I’m angry, okay? And you’re stupid prank doesn’t even let me show you that! You ruined my exam, Remus! And I’d been so nervous about it; you know how hard I worked to prepare for it! But how could she take me seriously sounding like this? And I kept getting flustered by and it and, and,” you start breaking down, and now you are crying from both anger and sadness. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a complete idiot,” Remus says, and your head snaps up at him at hearing this — he sounds like you. You just stare at him in shock. “Wow. I sound ridiculous,” he giggles. “What the fuck, Rem?” He holds up a little empty vial. “We’re in it together now, love. As long as you sound like this, so do I,” he informs you with a silly determination. You give him a little shove. “Remus! That doesn’t fix anything!” “Yes, well… I’m working on that.” 

“What?” “You’ll see,” he says. Then, “I hope,” more softly. You’re staring confusedly at him. “Okay, what do you want me to do? Come up with the most embarrassing thing, and I’ll do it. Who should I talk to sounding like this? McGonagall? The entire Great Hall? I think most people are still at dinner. Take your pick, Y/N, and I’ll go make an arse out of myself.” “You’ve already made an arse out of yourself,” you say, the edge in your voice softening. Remus notices, and he clings to the signs of your letting him in again. “Yes, well, being in love will do that, you know? I just love you so much.” “Save it,” you say, rolling your eyes. “It was worth a shot,” he concedes, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “And I do. Love you, I mean. Even though I’m an arse.” “Hm,” is all you give him in response, but your lip is quirking slightly. He ventures a step toward you, and you let him.

“I really am sorry, Y/N. We should’ve been more careful.” You glare at him. “Okay, okay,” he holds his hands up in surrender at your look, understanding immediately. “Okay, we shouldn’t’ve done it at all.” You nod. He adds in a whisper, “to you..” You try to glare at him at this, but you can’t help finding it a bit funny, and you snort mid-glare. He gives a full laugh, and taking his chances at your thawing demeanour, wraps you in a big hug. You groan but don’t pull away. “I’m sorry, lovely,” he says into your hair, placing a kiss there. “I’ll fix it; I promise.” You pull back to look at him, but don’t move completely out of his embrace. 

“How?”

“Well, I have my two best guys on that as we speak,” he offers with a mock-seriousness that sounds hilarious in his current voice, making you chuckle. “What are those two idiots doing?” “What I told them to,” he says with fake-authority. “Mhm. And why aren’t you fixing it yourself?” “Because.” He gives you a squeeze. “I had the most important — and dangerous — job of the three: apologizing and comforting you.” “Well, you’re not doing a great job,” you respond, but there’s a lightness to your voice that wasn’t there before. “How can I make it up to you?” You shake your head and sigh a sigh of defeat. 

“Dunno,” you whisper. “Can you take go back in time and not do it at all?” “‘Fraid not.” “Then there’s not much you can do.” You shift out of his arms and go sit on the edge of your bed. He follows and wraps an arm around you, rubbing your arm soothingly. He looks behind him at your bedside table and reaches over to it then settles back in next to you. You notice he’s grabbed the novel you’re in the middle of. He opens it and starts reading to you. It sounds absolutely ridiculous, and you’re laughing before you can stop yourself.  He looks over at you with the warmest smile, seeing you a bit happier melting him.

“I think I make it sound quite cool, actually.” 

“Oh, you do, do you?” you snark. “You sound absurd.” But you’re smiling subtly and leaning into him. He reads a couple more paragraphs, and you finally stop him, closing the book in his lap. “Okay, okay, stop, Lupin. You’re going to ruin it.” 

“I thought you liked it when I read to you?” “Because I like the sound of your voice, you idiot. Your normal voice. This… this is the opposite of soothing.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “I like the sound of your voice no matter what you sound like.” You squint at him like you don’t buy it. “I mean, your usual voice is a bit sexier than this, but hey, I’m sure I can make this work, too, if I need to, in the heat of the moment.” He jokingly runs his hand up your thigh, and you shove him away with an eye roll. He keeps laughing and reaches for your hand. When you let him hold it, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it. 

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs makes you look up. Sirius and James rush into your room. They both seem a little out of breath. Remus stands up, not letting go of your hand, and asks them, “Well?” At the sound of his voice, both boys crack up. 

“Keep it together, you idiots! How did it go?” Remus urges them, but he’s laughing too at the sound of himself. James tosses him a little vial, and Sirius offers a self-satisfied smirk. 

“That,” James says, pointing at the vial, “ought to undo it immediately.” “And,” Sirius continues seamlessly, “Professor Sprout —thanks to my unbelievable charm — ” all three of you glare at him, “and Remus’s offer to help her sift the fertilizer this weekend,” he adds in a quick whisper at which Remus can’t help but wince, “has agreed to let you retake the exam tomorrow.” You jump up eagerly, squeezing Remus’s hand, your eyes wide in excitement.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” you say, and when James and Sirius start laughing at the sound of it, you join them. Seeing your reaction, Remus lets himself laugh too. 

Still giggly, you grab the serum from Remus and unceremoniously swig down half. 

“The three of you are idiots,” you try, and unlike your voice, the squeal of excitement that comes out of you is high-pitched and piercing. You’re back to normal. Remus reaches for the vial, but you snatch it further from him and put it behind your back. 

“Uh-uh, lover boy. You’re going to have to earn this.”

 You give him a cruel smirk, and over the sound of James and Sirius’ increased laughter, you hear his defeated but still hilarious voice say, “Fair enough, love.”

P.S. i know sprout was probably after their time, but whatever

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #sirius black #james potter

[essentiallyleaf]

day 22. daddy kink. with. sakura.

758 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, futa!idol x female reader, daddy kink, cockhungry reader, somewhat rough sex, i’m not feeling very funny tonight.

notes.

they just keep getting shorter! i swear it’s not because i’m procrastinating writing until 12 a.m. though. exhaustedly, leaf.

You met the girl in a mall, she was reading Kafka with the most peaceful, relaxed air, like there was a desert around her, when in reality it was so crowded and loud that you couldn’t hear your friend talk to you from across the table at the coffee shop. She later told you she likes to hear the sound of the artificial waterfall beside the escalator while she reads; you told her, go to the river; she told you, it’s not the same, people go to the river to relax, I don’t read to relax; you asked her, what do you read for?; she answered you, I read to understand what the writer is like in bed. Anyway, you went up to her and asked whether she knew if there was a library in the mall - you knew there was one right around the corner, but pick-up lines aren’t your forte; whose forte are they, if truth be told? - and if she had a book to recommend. “Well, it depends, what do you like?” It’s very easy to make conversation, if you think about it: you can start anywhere you want, and it’s like tributary streams, at some point you always end up channeling into your common interests.

It’s just following the course of the river that leads to her writing down her number on the paper towel you’d gotten with your coffee - “It’s Sakura, by the way, but you can call me Kkura,” she said with a warm smile, like she loved her name, like she had chosen it herself - to the two of you meeting again (neither of you used the word date, but in retrospect, well, yeah) in a bar downtown. They didn’t call themselves a gay bar, but the place had queer written all over it; I mean, Monthly Murder Mystery Monday? Really? To the two of you seeing each other four times in the next week, to her asking if you wanted to come to her house to have a drink after the fourth, cause she wanted to show you her wild animal plushie collection. One thing that surely was wild was the sex, that night. Kkura was plunging into your pussy from the back as you were bent over her bed, ass in the air, and she felt huge inside you. Your face was sunk into the soft light gray-brown fur of the sloth when it escaped your mouth.

“Ngh- ahaadhd- …addy!”

“What did you just say?”

“I- Nothing, I’msor-”

“Again.”

The thing about a river’s delta is, it splits very gradually, just one extra fork at a time, so you don’t really notice how wide it has spread until you’re already deep into it. You start calling her daddy every time you’re hungry for her cock, and she feeds you (the unholy sound of your slurps fills the room like there’s three girls sucking it at the same time, but no, it’s just little old you), then every time you’re hungry. She’s the sweetest girlfriend, you know she’d always get you whatever you’re craving if you asked nicely. You call her daddy when it’s just the two of you, then if there’s close friends around. They still smile jokingly when it happens, but they understand, they know what it’s like; not to be with a girl whose rod that can rearrange your insides, but to be lucky enough to be next to someone that you love and to not be afraid to show it. You almost have a slip up the first time you meet her parents: “Dad- Da… Dadaism was, pretty… wacky, wasn’t it? Duchamp, what an eccentric soul, haha!” Even the save is embarrassing, but it’ll be a great story to tell your kids; ok, maybe not your kids, maybe your friends.

She’s your daddy when you sit on her lap and start grinding on it while she’s having breakfast, when you lay your head on her shoulder and she gropes your tits, only covered by a thin beige t-shirt, while you’re watching Worlds, when she fucks you missionary and slaps your thighs until they become red like your cheeks at her parents’ house, and her fingers gently wrap around your throat, and she kisses you like her throat is burning and only you can help relieve it. You can’t separate freshwater and salt, once you’re out in the sea. It’s all mixed together, as one. And it’s not good or bad, it’s all just part of a natural cycle. Sakura, Kkura, daddy; any name, any place, any time.

-

footnotes.

my favorite shirt from Raygun is the one that says ‘Iowa: flee to flourish’. friedly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x female reader #le sserafim #sakura #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim smut #sakura smut #miyawaki sakura smut #le sserafim sakura smut

[virq-qgo]

Listen before I go// Simon (Ghost) Riley

Reader kinda sounds like a wattpad (y/n)- listen I tried to make the reader not sound so stupid but- y’all I’m flabbergasted from how wattpadish this sounds 😭

Pt.2

Warnings: ooc ghost, reader kins (y/n) wattpad. Reader is referred as “you” but use’s she/her pronouns, angst, my writing, character death? Violence, love confessions? Oh, and no editing :))) 🫶❤️

Angst below the cut

“I’m in love with you.” Who knew those five words could’ve brought you so much pain. You were so sure that Simon had returned those same exact feelings. Or why else would he be so kind and heartwarming to you yet stone cold to anyone else.

A trickle of blood escapes your lip as you chuckle. God you hated yourself for confessing to him, otherwise he would’ve still been here and would’ve helped this hidden ambush. But he wasn’t, and you couldn’t take out an army of men all by yourself. But you’ve managed to escape, with a few bullet wounds to say to the least.

And now you were here, sitting against a gratified broke wall bleeding to death. Remembering that you had previously turned off your intercom, you turn it back on. You hear your name being called countless of times, asking for your whereabouts or your status. But with your head being so fuzzy, you don’t know if you talk even if you tried.

“She’s fine guys, I was with her last.” You hear ghosts voice through the little radio. Both of your definitions of fine were different, his was if you got shot you’ll be fine, just a little wound. But yours, well you weren’t really sure. It was more than a gunshot wound, that was for sure.

“What is your status? We’re going to be heading back on the plane shortly.” Prices asks, you can tell he was getting a little impatient.

You cough, more blood running down your dry lips. “Don’t think I’ll make it this flight. Can I catch it later?”

“What are you talking about?” It was now soap talking. “Where are you? We’ll come to find you.”

The line goes silent before you hears ghosts voice once more, this time in more of a panic.

“There’s blood everywhere. Hopefully it’s from these men you’ve slaughter (name).”

“Yeah, you could say that. Say, Simon you wanna make me a promise?”

“A promise?” He seems confused, you noted.

“Don’t blame yourself okay?”

He stays silent, almost hesitant for his next choice of words. It was almost as if he didn’t believe you. “What’s your surroundings?”

“You’re not going to make it in time Simon. It’ll be too late by then.”

“What is she talking about Ghost?” Price asks. To be honest, you totally forgot all about the other four.

But Simon doesn’t respond. His hearts racing, there was too much blood, too many footsteps to even count. And your empty gun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ghost hisses, “I’ve could’ve help you!”

You flinch at how loud he was. Who knew that a little radio could pick up the sound of anger in a persons voice. “Could you not bitch at me, I don’t need it right now.”

“When I find you it’s going to be more than being bitched at, (code name).”

Ouch, he must be pissed off if he was bringing out your code name. A sigh leaves your lips as you bring you hand to your face, wiping off the blood the kept dripping from your lip. He wasn’t going to find you in time, it wasn’t like you cared. It was going to save you from the future embarrassment of him seeing you in such a weak state and right after you confessed to him.

“Again, that is if you make it in time.”

Simon growls, “can you stop fucking saying that like you’re going to die?”

“You never know, I’ve been out here for awhile now. Never know if some animal is going to eat me for dinner.”

“Well aren’t you in luck, don’t think you’d be a subtle appetite to them.”

“Fucking hell,” you mumble. Your eyes were drooping from all of the blood that you loss. You were dying and you could really feel it now. “I’m by an old building. Not far from where you’re at, just keep going straight until you find a broken down wall with graffiti covering it.”

Simons end of the line was silent, but you assumed so. He was going to try to search for you all by himself because that’s what he does. If it didn’t hurt to chuckle, you would have. Cause it certainly didn’t take him too long to find you. You see the all to well know mask running towards you.

“Hey Simon,” you barely speak into the speaker, “I meant every word I’ve said.” Your hand falls to your side and your eyes roll back. You’ve done your best trying to keep your body going, but every has their weaknesses. Just as your eyes droop shut, Simon screams out your name.

There weren’t any moments where Simon feared life anymore. He lived through all terrifying moments of his life but nothing compared seeing your weak unconscious body. Simon could only run faster, hoping that he could beat death itself.

The man couldn’t afford to loose you, especially when he has something to confess too. God, his self hatred only grew when he turned you down harshly. Truth was, he was just scared. Scared that this was all of some sick joke one of the boys dared you to do. Scared that if he confessed right back, you’d laugh straight in his face and tell him you’d never feel the same way. But now that it hits him, you would never do that. You were too kind, and would never hurt him even if that meant hurting yourself.

“C’mon.” He whispers, his hands are on your shoulders. But when Simon pulls back to examine your body he wanted to puke. There was so much blood, he wondered how you could’ve even possibly walked a far or a distance and stayed on the line while waiting for him.

“Get the plane here now!” Simon yells into the radio, “I found (code name) but she’s unconscious!”

“Rodger that.” A voice responds, Simon doesn’t know who’s it is was but he frankly doesn’t care. He wanted you to wake up so he can tell you that he loves you. So he could tell you that he didn’t hate you, he was just lying.

After what felt like hours of requesting for the plane it finally came. Simon carefully lifted you up into his arms and boarded the plane. He ignored the worried looks of his teammates and gently laid you down on the cot so the medic’s could immediately get to work. Soap placed a hand on the man's shoulder and attempted to pull him away from the scene. 

 

“Ghost,” Soap called out, his grip was getting a little tighter. “Come on, let them have their space.”

 

But Simon didn’t respond, he was stiffer than a board. He feared that if he were to leave you behind once again, you wouldn’t make it. 

 

“You’ll get to see her once they save her, okay?”

 

“What if they don’t?” 

 

Soap stays silent, watching over the girl too. His hand still on Simon’s shoulder. “Give her hope, it takes more than a few gunshot wounds to take her down. Just give’er a few days and she’ll be back up and bouncing.” 

 

“I hope you’re right.”

#angst #hurt/comfort #cod mwii #mwii #mondern warefar 2 #mw2 imagine #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost x reader #cod imagine #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost x reader #fluff

[oneforthemunny]

orrr maybe earlier in the relationship with Janitor Eddie, they go through a haunted maze/haunted house together

falling |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: a "haunted house" looks a little different at hawkins elementary's fall festival. apart of my spooky stories series <3

“Are you scared?” Eddie muttered, hands rubbing down your arms sweetly. 

“Terrified.” You grin, turning to look back at him. “Think I should use the bathroom now? Might pee on myself, I’ll get so scared.” 

A laugh bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest, dimples deepening with a stretched smile. “Yeah? Jeez, babe, now you’ve got me worried.” Eddie looked at the entrance of the small gym door- the old gym, from years and years before. The school still kept the building, used it for parties and storage- for the Haunted House during the Hawkins Elementary Fall Festival. 

“Didn’t know your kids were this scary.” Eddie hummed, stepping up slowly as the line moved. 

“Terrifying. You didn’t know?” You teased, eyes sparkling the way they always did when you joked with him. It made Eddie swoon. “Steve’s a lot braver than me. Offering to work it this year. He’s a Saint for that.” 

“Yeah, he is…” Eddie muttered, hands balling in his leather jacket pocket. He definitely did it out of the goodness in his heart, and not the thirty dollar bribe Eddie gave him so he could spend the night with you. 

“I’m excited to see it though.” You chirped. “They’ve been working so hard in art. We had to cut bats out the other day- do you know how hard it is to cut a bat with kiddie scissors?” 

“Never tried, but I can imagine.” Eddie smiled. “I don’t know how your fingers even fit in those. My hands cramp thinking about it.” 

“Years of practice.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Pretty much an entire semester in college. I swear, all we did was cut construction paper and make arts and crafts for different projects. It was the best and the worst class. My hands were sticky for a semester.” 

“That’s… wow, actually now that you say that, I do remember Steve taking that class.” Eddie laughed, curls bouncing with every soft shake of his head. “He was always covered in glitter. Just unexplainably glittery.” 

You laughed, that crystal, beautiful laugh that had Eddie’s knees wobbling. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

It was your turn next, stepping up to the small box where a student and chaperone sat. Amanda, from your class. “There’s just two of us.” You grin at her. 

Her eyes flitted back from you and Eddie, grinning with her own excitement. “That’s two tickets.” She held her hand out, taking the tickets eagerly. The chaperone handed her the stamp, a scaredy cat outline in purple ink. She hesitated on Eddie’s hand, stamping it on his un-tattooed knuckles. 

You waved goodbye, arm snaking around Eddie’s, pushing the streamers to the side. “Guess the secret’s out.” You mutter, the stamp glowing in the black light of the dark room. 

“Guess so.” You could feel Eddie tense slightly, a shaky breath. “You-You’re cool with it?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly. “Eddie, I don’t care what my fourth graders think about my love life.” You shake your head. “We’re gonna be a hot topic at recess, that’s all.” 

“Yeah? Kinda boosts my ego.” Eddie puffed his chest out playfully. 

“I can tell.” You giggle. “Head’s getting bigger already.” 

“Could be my hair.” Eddie ran a hand down his curls. “Kinda hot in here. Think my curls are starting to frizz.” 

“I think they look good.” You hum, smoothing a sweet hand down the curly locks, still soft and clean from the shower he took earlier. His hair was damp when he picked you up, from a rushed shower and too impatient to let it dry all the way; too excited to see you. 

“Enter if you dare,” The dramatic, scary tone of Steve Harrington- in his Dracula ensamble- floated down the hallway. “And don’t touch, ok? Hands to yourself. Have a good time.” Steve nodded, letting the kids down the hallways, dark with animated, age appropriate scary sounds courtesy of the Halloween Screams CD playing on a loop. 

“Hey, you’ve been in here three times, and you only have one stamp. You sneaking in here or just not leaving?” Steve frowned, stopping the boy in the Donatello costume. 

You laughed, pulling Steve’s attention to you. He rolled his eyes. “Just- Last time or get in line like everyone else, alright?” Steve nodded towards the Ninja Turtle. 

“What? You’re not doing the voice for us?” Eddie grinned, brows raised in amusement. 

“Shut up, Munson.” Steve muttered, pulling the plastic fangs out of his mouth. “Shoulda charged you more.” 

Eddie glared at him, eyes cutting to you. You were too busy looking at the decorations, waving to your own excited students. “Wow, Harrington. This is very scary.” 

“Yeah? You jealous? Want to switch with me?” Steve snorted lightly. 

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “I would never want to deprive you of this. You’re really in your element.” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you two. You’re doing the Christmas party. You think candy is bad? Wait until it’s candy, and hot chocolate, and winter break. See who’s laughing then.” Steve quipped, an eye roll that had both you and Eddie laughing, leaning in to each other. 

“Alright, go in. Don’t touch anything. These decorations are barely hanging on.” Steve pulled the curtain. 

You clung to Eddie’s arm- for your students, you told him, so they would think you were scared. Eddie didn’t mind, of course. He was more than happy to have you on his arm. Watching your exaggerated expressions, the kids' dramatic scares and giggles that followed when they saw it was you. For once, whispers following when he passed down the hallways didn’t bother him. They were different from the ones from years before, when he was in Hawkins Elementary as a student, a lanky, skinny boy with holes in his clothes; who never had a Halloween costume unless he made one, and then the kids made fun of him. 

He would have killed for a teacher like you. Someone who would’ve been kind to him. You brought in extra costumes, bought from the Salvation Army, put them in your treasure chest for the kids like him, who didn’t have a costume. You picked up shifts at Melvald’s to pay for extra things around the holidays, working on weekends and nights when you could for some extra money. Gave up your own time so your kids could be happy; it made Eddie’s head spin in the best way. 

You sat across from Eddie on the wooden picnic table, cradling the plastic tray of cut apples and caramel sauce. “So what’s your fall snack?” You ask, head tilting gently towards him. 

“My what?” Eddie blinked. 

“Your fall snack?” You grin, wiping your hands on the thin napkins. “Y’know, like when fall comes, what’s the one thing you crave? Like caramel apples or pumpkin bread…” 

Eddie smiled, he could feel himself blushing. He didn’t even know why he was blushing, yet the heat still rose from his chest and crept up his collarbones. He hoped you couldn’t see how flushed he was under the streetlights. 

“Uh, I don’t really… Oh, wait.” Eddie grinned. “Fried apple pie with vanilla ice cream.” 

“Fried apple pie?” You lifted a brow. 

“With vanilla ice cream.” Eddie nodded. “You ever had one?” You shook your head. 

“Oh, baby, I gotta take you. When I was little, Wayne would take me to this Amish grocery store out past the quarry. He always got a pie there for Thanksgiving, and he’d get me a fried apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I don’t even like vanilla, but with that? Life changing, baby.” Eddie grinned, sighing. It was heavy but not sad… nostalgic. 

“That sounds amazing.” You grin. “I love vanilla ice cream.” 

“I know.” Eddie smiled. He had remembered that. This summer, after a movie date, he’d taken you to an ice cream parlor. You’d sat in the booth, giggling over melting cones- your vanilla, his chocolate. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take you sometime.” Eddie nodded, eyes cutting to you carefully. “If you want to.” 

“Yeah,” You smile, nodding. “We should go sometime. Bring Wayne back a pie.”

“God, he’d love that.” Eddie laughed. He’d love you even more than he already does, Eddie mused. The old man was already egging Eddie on, better buy her a ring, boy, she’s a keeper. Eddie knew you were. He’d started saving for rings after your second date, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” You hum, your own smile small, a little shy. “I know this isn’t like a great date or anything, but my kids like to see me. I like to see them.” 

“No, it’s… I had fun- I’m having fun.” Eddie stuttered, a little nervous. Did he look like he wasn’t having fun? Fuck, he was, he really was. Maybe he should have played it up with the kids, he just didn’t want to take away from you. They were your kids and he’d never want to step in front of you, steal your moment. 

“Yeah?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Eddie nods, brown eyes wide, curls bobbing. “I’m having fun with you too.” Eddie thought he might pass out. 

“They were so cute, all their little costumes.” You smile, chin resting on your palm. “They get to dress up two times so I know they’re just over the moon.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Halloween party is Tuesday, right?” Eddie asked. He knew when it was, he was going to have to clean overtime for all the Halloween parties. 

You nodded. “I can’t wait for you to see my costume.” You grin, brows bouncing playfully at him. 

“I can’t either.” Your smile is contagious to Eddie, leaving him grinning and swooning. “You gonna go all in?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “Just a costume. Nothing fancy. The kids like it, so…” You trail off. “It’s not new or anything, I wear it every year, but you’ve never seen it so new to you.” 

“I can’t wait.” Eddie smiled, knee bouncing under the table. 

“Are you going to dress up?” You asked, lashes fluttering towards him sweetly. 

“No,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “I mean, I wasn’t going to. Don’t really have anything. Guess I could wear my Michael Myers mask with my coveralls?” 

You laugh. “Yeah, think you’d really scare the kids.” 

“That’s the point, right? What you’re supposed to do, right? Scare the shit out of them.” Eddie smirked. 

“Might get fired, but worth it, right?” You jest back. 

“Definitely worth it.” Eddie nodded. “Maybe I’ll wear the old coveralls in there. Say I’m dressing up as Sal.” 

You laugh. “That would be really funny, actually.” Your eyes shone under the lights, bright and dazzling back at Eddie. 

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll do it then.” Eddie nodded. “Sorry it’s not a surprise.” 

“That’s ok. Mine will be more than worth it.” You smile confidently at him. 

“I know it will be.” Eddie said quickly, eyes widening. Fuck, had he said that outloud? His eyes widened slightly, watching you carefully- bracing himself for the inward cringe, the snarl, things he was used to in the past. Not from you. No, all that came was a shy smile, chin ducking down to hide your flushing face. 

“You want one?” You ask, breaking the silence with the slide of your tray towards him. 

“I’m ok.” Eddie shook his head politely. 

“C’mon, I know you want one.” You press lightly. “You paid for them.” 

“Yeah, for you.” Eddie countered, giving you a pointed look. “But if you insist.” He hummed, grabbing a green apple, scooping a glob of caramel on it. 

“Would never want to deprive you.” You wink, and Eddie nearly chokes on the chewed apple he’s swallowing. 

One of your kids passes by, waving goodbye, holding their tired mom’s hand. You wave back politely to both of them. 

“Hey, uh,” Eddie starts, sweaty palms rubbing down his jeans. He knows it’s the end of the night. You don’t have any plans further, not yet anyways. “Do you- You like scary movies?” 

“Depends.” You hum, tossing the empty plastic away in the trash bin. “How scary are we talking?” 

“Not crazy.” Eddie slides in beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. The rides and music are dying down, the Hawkins’ PTA lingering behind with large trash bags, loading station wagons. “Pumpkinhead?” 

“Never seen it.” You shrug lightly. Eddie’s shoulders deflate, heart racing- should’ve said Carrie, he fuckin’ knew it. 

“But I’ll watch it with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Your eyes meet his, grip tightening around your shoulders. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie falters. “I mean, I was just- we don’t have to.” 

“No, I think that sounds nice. Very on theme for the night.” You smile, leaning into his side, your steps in sync. “One condition, though.” 

Anything. “Yeah, what’s that?” Eddie swallowed, trying to fight back his smile. 

“I get to put M&Ms in the popcorn.” You point at him playfully. “Non-negotiable, Munson.” 

“Done.” Eddie shrugs, fishing for his keys. “M&Ms in popcorn, huh? You’re that typa girl?” Unlocking your door, pulling it open for you. 

“You know I am.” You quip, sliding under his open arm, tossing him a wink before he shut the door. 

Eddie was buzzing with excitement, a dopey smile on his face, too lovestruck to even care. An hour later, you were pressed into his side, head on his shoulder, a bowl of hot popcorn with M&M's scattered inside between the two of you. Eddie hoped you couldn’t feel how he got hard when your hands brushed in the bowl.

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