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awearywritersworld · 7 months

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weakness

gojo satoru x reader summary: you make the strongest sorcerer weak w/c: .54k tags/warnings: domestic fluff with a suggestive ending so 18+, gojo is irrevocably in love with you, the feeling is entirely mutual, gn!reader, no use of y/n a/n: we truly do not deserve him masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

there isn't a single sorcerer in all of japan unfamiliar with the name gojo satoru. he's known that since he was old enough to understand the innate techniques etched into his body.

and what a lonely existence it was. being the strongest leaves you with little else besides power.

perhaps that's why he finds himself so utterly consumed by you— the only thing in the world that makes him feel weak.

whenever your eyes find his own, his hands tremble. and whenever you give him that crooked grin, his knees nearly collapse beneath him.

he can't even begin to understand it. how someone like him could be lucky enough to belong to someone like you. he knows that a million lifetimes of effort would still leave him pathetically undeserving.

that's probably the reason he hesitates before entering your shared apartment each night. he wants nothing more than to come home to you, and yet, fear tugs in his heart at the prospect of it all having been some long, drawn out dream.

how else can he explain walking into the kitchen, finding you there covered in flour, looking impossibly beautiful? how else can he account for the way your face lights up upon seeing him?

"hey love," you greet him warmly and your voice feels like the answer to every prayer he's ever had.

his long, strong arms wrap you up in an instant, his face burrowing into your neck.

"hey," he breathes out, the heat fanning across your skin.

"'toru," you warn. "you're going to get flour all over your uniform!"

"s'okay, baby. i don't mind."

it's only when you move to hug him back that he fully relaxes against your body.

"how was your mission?"

he doesn't answer right away, reveling in your comforting embrace for a few seconds longer.

"it was alright," he offers, untangling himself from you and standing back up to his full height. "missed you."

"i missed you, too." you peer up at him, your eyes swimming with adoration. his heart clenches painfully at the sight. "but i made your favorite!"

you turn on the oven light, so he bends down for a glimpse at the pastry that's nearly finished baking.

his expression softens and he grabs your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone delicately. "how can i make you understand how much i adore you?"

despite the heat that creeps up your neck, you let out a breath of a laugh. "'toru it's only a pie."

he hums, "made just for me by my most favorite person in the world."

your lips curl into that lopsided grin he loves so much before you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him. he deepens it, his arms finding your waist and tugging your body towards his own possessively.

after a few moments, he pulls away just enough to plant a kiss to your nose, then your forehead, and finally both of your cheeks, savoring the way you giggle at his show of affection.

"okay, i think i'm starting to understand, but i might need just a little more convincing."

he gazes down at you with a smirk, the look in his eye suddenly mischievous. "yeah? maybe we can make another pie together, princess."

"..'toru!"

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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starrystevie · 7 months

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18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3

it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.

or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.

steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.

it isn't long until he figures out why.

timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.

"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."

once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.

"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"

timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.

"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.

steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.

"what are-" he starts.

eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."

they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.

"eddie."

"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."

they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.

"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.

"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."

steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"

"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.

they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.

he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.

he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.

"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.

"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.

his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."

steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."

eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."

"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."

his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."

steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.

"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.

their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.

but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.

the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.

"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.

if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.

eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.

steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.

soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.

he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.

"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."

"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."

it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.

"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"

he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.

he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.

"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"

he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"

steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.

"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."

it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.

steve says eddie and it brings him home.

afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.

steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.

"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."

steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."

there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.

he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.

but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.

#this was going to be something entirely different but i couldn't stop myself so.... here u go #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #unedited so pls ignore any typos teehee

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astraystayyh · 9 months

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The alternative

Brother's best friend changbin x reader. Fluff and slight angst. (Han is the brother).

Based on my interpretation of The Alternative by Lyn Lapid (if u can, play it after the •••)

You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

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"Yn?" Changbin’s voice echoes clearly through the phone, and you startle, leaning away to check if you mistakenly dialed the wrong person. But there it is- Han's contact name illuminating your screen, confirming your intended call.

"Changbin? Where is Han?" you ask hesitantly, confused as to why your brother did not pick up his phone.

"He left his phone at home. I wasn't going to answer but I saw five missed calls from you, so I figured something might be wrong. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice softening at the last question.

His concern tugs at your heart, causing you to bite your lower lip forcefully. You've been sitting across from your date for the past two hours, and yet Changbin managed to pay more attention to you in the span of five seconds.

"I'm okay, don't worry about it," you reassure, trying your best to sound composed.

"Did you need something?"

"I just... I'm on a date right now and I wanted Han to come pick me up. But it's okay."

"Did they do something to you?" he asks, his voice carrying an edge to it that hadn't been present moments ago.

"No!" you quickly reassure. "I just... I don't know, it feels off but it's okay. I'm sorry for bothering you." The practiced apology rolls off your tongue effortlessly, without you having to think about uttering it.

You're accustomed to shrinking yourself, trying your hardest not take up space with your feelings. It has become second nature to you to bury your problems in a dusty box at the back of your mind, as soon as they threaten to affect those around you.

"Where are you?" he asks as you hear shuffling from his end, "I'm coming to pick you up."

"You don't have to," you murmur, regret already welling up inside you. You should've stopped calling your brother when he didn't pick up the first time.

"You are uncomfortable. That's reason enough for me."

You attempt to contradict him, but the words dissolve in your mouth, swallowed back down your throat. There's something about Changbin's unwavering voice that makes you pause. You don't have the strength to contradict him.

"Okay, thank you," you exhale a ragged breath in relief. "I'll text you the address."

You hang up, leaving the bathroom you were hiding in and sitting in front of your date once again. They resume talking, but you tune them out, your thoughts solely revolving around Changbin- the way the planets rotate unwaveringly around the sun. His concern made a pleasing warmth seep through your heart, like a sun ray piercing through clouds after a gloomy day.

You dig your fingers into your palm, desperately trying to banish thoughts of him- just as you’ve been doing for the past few months.

You met Changbin before you knew he was your brother’s best friend. In the campus café, where he almost spilled his drink on you. You thought he was adorable, apologizing profusely to you, a faint pink hue tinting his cheeks. And then he bought you a cookie, three to be exact, because he didn’t know which flavor you’d prefer. A token of his remorse as he explained to you. He was a year older, and you found talking to him as natural as being with yourself.

But for some reason, your brain didn’t register that this was the Changbin your brother told you about. Until you’ve visited Han’s dorm for the first time and there he was, opening the door for you. Changbin was never yours to begin with, a reminder you continually admonish yourself with, but you still felt as if you lost him that day.

You knew it wouldn't be wrong, per se, to date him. But the potential confrontations that would unfold from it made you recoil into your hiding. Loving Changbin holds within it numerous uncertainties, and you cannot venture into the unknown, regardless of how much you yearn for it. For him.

“Yn!” a loud voice startles you, and you snap your head towards the entrance of the restaurant where you find Changbin. He’s clad in grey sweatpants and a snug black t-shirt, standing out like a sore thumb in the high-end restaurant. He didn't take the time to change, you realize, his sole focus on reaching you as quickly as possible.

"We have to go!" he says, as soon as he's in front of your table, and your date glances at you curiously.

"You do?" they ask and you chuckle nervously. "We do?" You didn’t think of an excuse as to why you needed to leave so suddenly, and you hoped Changbin did.

"Yes, come on," he urges, outstretching his hand toward you. "There is an emergency… You know, with Han, very urgent."

"Who's this? And who's Han?"

"I already told you who Han is," you roll your eyes, grabbing Changbin’s hand and rising from your seat. "Maybe if you stopped talking about yourself for a second then you'd remember."

Changbin places a couple of bills on the table, a polite smile on his face. "For the dinner", he says, before pulling you outside with him.

"What was that?" you chuckle as soon as you're out. Changbin doesn't let go of your hand as you walk to his car, and you can't find it in you to drop it.

"What?" he giggles, "did you not like my acting skills?"

"Did you have to shout my name from across the restaurant?" you playfully punch his shoulder and he feigns a wince.

"I had to be convincing," he nods solemnly, opening the door for you. His hand rests on the top of the car, ensuring you don't bump your head while getting in.

"Here," Changbin hands you a pair of slippers from the backseat, and you furrow your brows in confusion. "I assumed you'd be wearing heels and your feet are probably tired, so I brought you this," he explains, and you are suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the car that's hiding your crimson blush.

"So, tell me, what did they do? Do I need to beat them up?" Changbin asks once more and you groan, leaning your head against the car window.

"They're so... pretentious. The only thing they care about is themselves, their career and their achievements. They even tried to downplay mine so they'd feel better about themselves."

"It's their loss honestly, for wasting a date with someone like you."

"You're the only one who thinks so," you smile sadly, trailing your fingers across your knee.

"What do you mean?" he asks, turning his body around to give you his undivided attention.

"This is my fourth bad date in a row. I think I'm just destined for horrible relationships," you try to joke, but it did weigh heavily on you. Was there something wrong in you that prompted everyone to treat you so lowly?

"You are very smart and witty and interesting. I like talking to you, especially about things you are passionate about. It's their loss for not seeing it. Doesn't mean you are any less incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine conviction.

A surge of emotion pulses through you, your heart beating wildly in your chest like a bird fluttering its wing to break free from its cage. You've always thought Changbin was all these things as well, but you never knew he held you with the same regard.

"Thank you," you beam at him, "for this and for coming to pick me up."

"Don’t mention it," he responds with a warm smile before sudden mischief dances in his eyes. "You know what? We should go on a date right now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"A fake date," he clarifies and your heart chips a little more at your foolish hope. "So you'd see how well you deserve to be treated."

"You don't have to do that," you shake your head. 'You shouldn't do that', you wanted to add, 'it’s hard enough to forget about you'.

"I want to," he insists, his assurance evident in his smile. He leans in, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt, bringing his face mere inches from yours. His cologne envelops you, trapping you in a web carefully woven by him. It was unfair- for him to smell this nice and not be yours.

"You look pretty," he compliments, his penetrating gaze locked with yours as the seatbelt finally clicks into place.

"Is this how you start all your dates," you chuckle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"No, I'm just saying the truth," he replies simply, starting the car and resting his hand on the back of your headrest.

"So, what are you craving?" he asks, and you sigh in defeat.

"Can we have fried chicken?"

"Of course, we can," he replies with a smile, shifting the car into reverse and leaving the parking lot.

•••••••••••

You hoped your time with Changbin would be horrible, you wished you’d feel bored or uncomfortable, just so it’d cement the idea that he wasn’t the one for you. But unsurprisingly, you had an amazing time. Your stomach ached from laughing so hard throughout the night, and there was a new found lightness in your steps as you walked around a picturesque garden.

You knew that you will revisit this night countless times, that you’d sift through every detail- every time your eyes met and every time you made him smile. That it’d keep you warm on cold nights when you’re all alone.

"Here," Changbin says, handing you a plucked rose. "You deserve a bouquet but I didn’t plan on this, I’m sorry," he smiles sheepishly and you giggle, taking it out of his hands.

"Thank you," you grin happily, before taking a step forward toward him. There, you tuck the rose behind his ear, smoothing down his hair in the process.

"I’m blushing, aren’t I?" he chuckles, bringing a hand to his flushed cheeks and you gleefully nod.

"You’re matching the rose," you point out and he shrugs happily. "Pink is my color."

You admired how Changbin didn’t shy away from his emotions, embracing them without reservation. It made you feel secure, in the sense where you’d never have to second guess his words and their truthfulness.

Changbin takes out his phone to play a soft melody, before putting it in his back pocket.

"Let's dance."

"Changbin..." you trail off. It feels bittersweet to get a taste of what you could have, of what you two could be. He'll move on, surely, going on real dates while you'd still be stuck on the way he makes you feel.

"It's part of the date package, come on."

You sigh, before grabbing his hand in yours. They fit so naturally together, and you think you can easily commit the sensation to memory- the coldness of his palm and the callouses on his finger pads. With a few more holds, you're certain you could recognize his touch among a thousand others.

Changbin raises your free hand and places it on his shoulder, before holding your waist gently, swaying you from left to right.

Being with him felt like pressing on a blueish bruise, a pleasurable pain you would willingly endure to have him by your side. You're already in his arms, you told yourself. Maybe you should tune out the thoughts in your head berating you, and finally follow what your heart wants.

You suck in a deep breath, before tentatively leaning your head on his chest. He immediately brings his hand to your hair, smoothing it down gently. His chest is broad, serving as a shield for the delicate emotions flowing within him. Because Changbin is gentle with everything he does and everyone he meets. And you'd settle for this, for being his fake date if it meant experiencing his gentleness for the rest of your life.

"Can I tell you something?" you say after a while.

"Sure."

"I think this is the nicest date I've ever been on. I wish all of them were like this."

"They could be if you want to."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always liked you, yn. From the moment I’ve met you,” he confesses easily, and his words feel like the hands of an expert violinist, tugging at your vulnerable heartstrings.

He likes you, you aren't alone in this feeling, and for a second, raw happiness courses through you at this thought. But it's fleeting, like the sugar rush you'd get when you eat too much sweets. And so it naturally wears off, as the consequences of his words dawn on you.

"Changbin, we shouldn't," you shake your head vehemently and he frowns. "Why?"

"Because you're my brother's best friend." The excuse streams from your mouth instantly.

"But I'm still Changbin. Your Changbin if you'll have me," he adds softly.

"Han will find it weird, and if we don't work out then your friendship with him will become strained and-"

"Why are you thinking about everyone but yourself?" He interrupts. "Don’t you want this?"

A few silent beats pass by, and Changbin doesn't stop swaying you around, his gentle place lulling your heart to calmness, clearing the foggy thoughts in your mind.

"I do," you finally admit, and a smile lightens up his face instantly. It's so bright that it makes you second-guess the words you're about to say. "But I don't want to risk our friendship too."

"Love is a risk, I understand, I agree. But what's the alternative, yn? if it's not having you at all then I'd risk it," he drops your waist, his hands cradling your face tenderly. "You are worth the risk to me."

You’ve stopped dancing, the music long forgotten by you. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

"What if we things don't workout?"

"What if they do, hm? we can never really know until we try. And i want to try with you. Please, give us a chance?" he smiles at you, his vulnerability on full display. He's offering you his heart on a silver platter, not caring if you'll safely guard it or pierce it through, as long as it's yours.

You gaze into his warm brown eyes, before glancing at his tousled hair and the rose tucked behind his ear. And your fear doesn't matter anymore, not in the face of the man in front of you.

"You have amazing convincing skills. Have you ever considered being a diplomat?" you tease and his eyes widen slightly. "Is this a yes? are you saying yes?"

"I am," you giggle, an uncontrollable smile drawn on your lips. "And... I've always liked you too. I think Han might've suspected it because whenever I brought you up, he glared at me," you confess with a laugh, as Changbin presses a soft kiss on your wrist. Right where your pulse is. Beating wildly for him.

"He’ll have to deal with it. Now tell me, is tomorrow at 6 pm good for you?"

"What for?" you giggle, as he waltzes you around once more, a cheeky smile adorning his face.

"Our first real date, of course.”

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

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Hey! Love your stuff! But i kinda notice you mainly do Vox and Al so...

Can you do like....... A husker x child!reader headcanons ? (Platonic ofc)

The old bartender finds a kid completely without adult supervision at a bar (their just drawing ) , goes up to them to find thier guardian only to realise they dont have any?

Husker wants to get rid of them but they ultimately grow on him and they become closer. The kid is sarcastic and they shit on alastor together....

And they draw a mocking pic of the radio demon and stick it onto the fridge of the hotel for everyone to see?

There is a LOT of Vox and Alastor in my inbox but I'm a sucker for Husk so-

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Unaccompanied minor in places a baby shouldn't be

Description: 👆⬆️

Sometimes Husk just needs a break from being a bartender, wanting to be the one being served

He wants to relax in his free time and just have a moment to himself

Actually starts to let loose when he suddenly feels a tiny hand tugging on his wing

Husk is so confused when he looks down to see a child staring up at him, clutching dirty paper and crayons

"Can you help me up, mister..? The chairs are too high..."

Sets you up on the barstool next to him, still too stunned to really ask why you're even here

He looks at the bartender as they pass him his drink, gesturing to you with a wtf expression

They just shrug as they give you a plastic cup with water in it, obviously used to having you around by that point

Finally snaps out of it once the bartender pushes a plate of food towards you

Don't look at him like that it's perfectly natural to be freaked out by a kid at a bar

You're just kicking your legs and drawing, munching on the food given to you

You shouldn't be in a rowdy place like this, who's supposed to be watching you??

"So uh...does your mommy take you here often?"

"No, does yours?"

Motherfucker you're already spilling your water on yourself-here let him help you-how are you so bad at this???

"Your papa then?"

"No, I don't have any parents but- *insert bartender's name* -is really nice and let's me hang out in here.."

You're breaking his fucking heart, kid

"Oh well...don't mind me then."

"Uh yeah, I won't."

Sarcastic for such a little squirt, aren't you?

His drink suddenly tastes sour and he's no longer in the mood for another, watching you unhappily

Starts seeing you every time he visits the bar, always keeping to yourself and oblivious to the things going on around you

At first, he's annoyed whenever he sees you, reluctantly keeping an eye on you and making sure nobody bothers you

Even if they do, you're so witty for your age that you leave just about everyone gobsmacked by the shit that comes out of your mouth

The whole point of coming where was to relax and instead he's worrying about some kid

Then that annoyance slips away to reluctant fondness as you worm your way into his old heart

He starts to look forward to seeing you and starts bringing little things for you like clothes, toys, coloring books

Listens to you babble about what you do with your days and how you've managed to survive on your own

Not the bartender developing a crush on him for it

Husk doesn't even realize how attached he is until one day he visits the bar and you aren't there, the bartender distracted and upset

You haven't shown up in couple of days

He immediately goes looking for you, frequenting all the places he's heard you mention

Is asking anyone if they've seen you, getting more frantic with each negative answer

Finally finds someone who knows where you are, leading Husk to where you've been hiding out

And now he knows why you haven't shown up

Husk gathers up your shaking, feverish body, hating the fact that you're so sick

"H-Husk..?"

You can barely even open your eyes, he can feel your little body burning up in his arms

"Hey kid..."

He's not leaving you here

He takes you back to the hotel so that you can be properly taken care of, leaning on the others when he doesn't know what to do

Charlie and Vaggie are the biggest helps tbh, they're actually good at caring for people

Alastor is entirely unhelpful except for the fact that he can provide medicine and other supplies

"My my~ Look at what the cat dragged in! Aha!"

"Shut up...you weird strawberry man.."

Even when you're sick you're still a riot

He tries to keep Niffty tf away from you but you think she's funny

He and Angel are your makeshift heaters, so fuzzy and warm that you want to cuddle them all the time

Angel complains the entire time though so you don't really prefer him

Mostly you want Husk with you and he sticks with you until you're feeling better

By then you're well acquainted with everyone at the hotel and they're all quite attached to you

Everyone agrees that you live there now and you get your own room even though you have a habit of sleeping in Husk's

It's okay, Husk looks forward to waking up to your adorable face and doesn't even mind when you kick him in your sleep

You play with Niffty and Angel, learn from Charlie and Vaggie, bother Alastor with your less than flattering renditions of him

You don't like that Alastor is so rude to Husk so you've taken to being a little thorn in his side

Kids pick up on their parent's emotions what can I say

Which Alastor absolutely hates but hides it behind a tight smile, he's surprisingly patient with you

And if those drawings of Alastor on the fridge suddenly go missing?? Husk can always ask you to make him another one

Husk finds himself thinking of you as his kid more and more often, surprised that you ever got this close to his heart

And you yourself slip up a few times and call him dad/papa/daddy/father/pops

You're always a little embarrassed by the chorus of awwws that follow afterwards but you don't really mind it anymore

And neither does he if he's being honest

He struggles sometimes to be a proper caregiver for you but you always seem to just love him more for his flaws

You're too fucking cute

You're definitely his kid

And don't worry Husk lets the bartender know you're safe and brings you to visit them after their shifts

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I LOVE DADDY!HUSK SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT TOO

#hazbin hotel husk x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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sturniolosstar · 4 months

Text

secret - matt sturniolo

this is part 2. find part 1 here

cw - smut, swearing, fingering, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, slapping, dom!matt, mean!matt, pet names, female reader

———————————————————————————

he increases his pace, jerking his hand up and down much faster.

he’s so close.

he lets his head fall back, a strained whine falling from his lips before he hears a knock at the door followed by your voice.

“matt?”

he chokes on a moan, his movements slowly coming to a stop.

fuck. “y-yeah?”

“are you okay?” your voice sounds so genuine, laced with care. he almost feels bad for what he’s doing.

almost.

“i’m fine..do you need anything?”

“can you open up? i need to talk to you.”

his heart is pounding out of chest, he’s pretty sure you can hear it from the other side of the door.

“yeah, of course. just give me a second.” his voice wavers as he quickly pulls up his boxers and jeans, buttoning them.

he turns his phone off and places it on the counter.

he swallows his pride, unlocking and opening the door.

you look up at him. his cheeks flushed red and lips parted, eyes focused on yours.

“what did you want to talk about?”

you blink a few times, bringing yourself back to reality.

you stare up at him for a few more moments, eyes gazing over his features before clearing your throat.

“are you mad at me?”

“what? of course not.” he frowns, face scrunching in confusion. “why would you think that?”

“you just seem a bit off.” your eyes flick from the floor to his. “you’ve barely talked to me today and you keep on staring at me as if you’re mad.” you shrug.

he swallows the lump in his throat.

“i’m not mad at you, y/n.” that makes you let out a soft breath, relieved.

his face softens as he stares at you, “can i be honest?”

“always.” you give him a reassuring smile.

"i like you. i like you a lot." he stares at you, after seeing the way you didn't react at all, he starts to panic.

"you don't have to say anything back, and i don't want it to seem like i'm pressuring you into anything. i just wanted you to kn-" you cut him off by pulling him in by his collar, colliding your lips with his.

his hands find your waist, tugging you closer to him as he walks you backwards into the bathroom, careful not to break the kiss.

he kicks the door shut with his foot and shoves you against it, moaning into the kiss as he grips your waist tighter, pushing his body against yours.

he pulls away, breathing heavily as he gapes down at you.

his hair is messy and his lips are kiss swollen, eyes hooded as he scans your face for any signs of discomfort. “are you okay with this?”

you smile up at him. “of course i am, matt. i like you too.”

his eyes light up, as if he’s shocked with this information. “really?”

you hold back a giggle before pulling him down once again, bringing him into another kiss.

he got his answer.

his hands reach for your back, finding the zipper of your dress and pulling it down, letting it fall off of your body.

he slips his tongue into your mouth as his fingers slip into the waistband of your panties, letting his two fingers slide in between your folds before pushing them inside you.

you whine at the sudden feeling, removing your lips from his as your face contorts into pleasure, head falling back against the door.

“yeah honey? that feel good?” matt asks, his voice dripping with false curiosity, already knowing the answer as he pulls down your panties completely.

you nodded your head to the best of your ability with matt’s fingers plunging into you.

he didn’t like that answer.

his hand wrapped around your throat, lifting your head up to meet his gaze. “words.”

“y-yes, matty. feels so good!” you slur out, quickly feeling your high approach.

he could tell you were close. the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your legs started to shake slightly and the way your hand gripped onto his arm, nails digging into his skin as your eyes furrowed, focusing on the pleasure to come.

“are you close, baby? gonna cum all over my fingers?”

god. the way he was talking to you was not helping.

you quickly nod once again before you feel a stinging across your cheek.

he slapped you.

“i said words, didn’t i?”

“yes, yes! god.” you groan. “i’m so close, matt!”

you feel your high approaching as-

he pulled his fingers away, making you whine loudly. you felt your high slip away as matt put his fingers into his mouth, licking all your juices.

“sorry, sweetheart.” he took his fingers out of his mouth with a pop.

“but i’ve been waiting too long for this to finish that quick.”

he unbottons his jeans, pulling it down with his boxers, letting his hard cock jump out and slap his stomach.

his tip was red and smeared with his precum.

he pressed the tip on your entrance, making you whimper.

“i’m on the pill.” you manage to mumble

“please just fuck me already”

“so impatient.” he tuts before slamming himself into your wet cunt, earning a pleased moan from you and a groan from him.

he lets his head fall back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he’s finally feeling your gummy walls around him. the feeling he’s been thinking, wishing about for months on end.

he places one hand on your throat, letting the other rest on your hip as he continues his rough pace, ramming into you.

“i’m so close. fuck” you whine, looking up at him, eyes glossy with tears.

“go ahead, baby. you were so good for me.”

that’s all you needed to hear before your head falls onto matt’s shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck as you let out the sounds you’ve been holding in.

your arms wrap around him as you clench around him, letting out a muffled moan as you finally let go, falling limp in his arms.

matt holds you against him, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his high.

it’s not long before he shoves his dick deep inside you, letting his cum fill you up as he lets out a satisfied groan.

he gently pulls you up, caressing your cheek with his thumb as the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a smile.

it’s safe to say you both like eachother.

———————————————————————————

authors note -

IT FINALLY CAME???

i hope y’all liked that.

love you all ❤︎

taglist: @btwsturn @thesturniolos @mattsbratt @stramboli4life @ducksturniolo @st4rhubz @eyelessdemon @sturns-posts @sturniolo14 @sturnioloenthusiast @ivonchetooo1239 @littlebookworm803 @bellas-de3d @abigailhillsblog @mattsneezing @chrisfavoritepepsi @jaylorswift89 @sturniofilmd @mayhem73 @bludisnot19 @athenamossymandella

#sturniolosstar #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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4ngel-inc · 3 months

Text

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — 𝑀𝒴 𝒩𝒜𝑀𝐸 𝒲𝒪𝒰𝐿𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒪𝒦 𝐵𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸𝑅 𝒜𝑅𝒪𝒰𝒩𝒟 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒩𝐸𝒞𝒦 ᰔ

notes: dazai replaces your favorite nameplate necklace with one of his own name—but that's just the beginning of him trying to make you his forever ‧₊˚ ⋅ 3k words.

warnings: fem reader. dc. yandere themes (but it's gentle). port mafia!dazai and port mafia!reader.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

dazai isn't sure when he first fell in love with you—he thinks it may have been the moment he saw you add an ungodly amount of cream and sugar to your coffee.

"y'want some?" you'd asked, handing him the sugar shaker.

he smiled, taking it from your hand. "sure." of course he does, sweet and weak—that's how he likes his coffee. he thinks maybe that's how he'd like you as well.

it was only a passing moment, a gentle brush of your arm against his as you returned the small creamer pitcher to its rightful place before moving on, but it was enough for him—enough to have him carefully calculating how quickly he could make you fall in love with him, how long it might take to break you entirely and mold you into someone who wanted to be his everything—someone he could die with.

the low buzz of the port mafia headquarters had faded to nothing around him in that moment, sipping on his little coffee as the world emptied, only looking at you—all the little partially-healed bruises decorating your face painting a map for his fingers, the way your skin gave away the slight bite from the cold you'd just escaped—you were just utterly gorgeous. his mind was circling—it was that moment, he thinks, he knew he wanted you to be his and his alone, forever.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

it's only been a few months since dazai fell in love with you, and although he was feeling confident when your relationship started, he now finds himself lost as to how to keep you. you've been distant lately, he can feel it in his bones—like you're a million miles away from him, and he doesn't like that.

"mmmh—dazai?" your sleepy voice always makes him melt. he brushes a few strands of hair from your face before kissing your forehead.

"go back to sleep, love."

"why are you staring at me?" your voice increases in volume the more you're tugged away from your sleep. you laugh a little, and he laughs with you—though he isn't sure why, it's almost just instinctive for his feelings to match yours perfectly. "you're so weird, babe."

"aww, don't say that, pretty girl—is watching my beautiful angel sleep really that weird?" he's pouting now.

"that face won't work on me, osamu. you were staring at me, i caught you." you giggle before resting your head on his chest once more, sighing deeply as your heartbeat slows—he can feel it against his chest, and it makes him think you're connected by something greater than just the endorphins and serotonin dancing around in both of your heads.

you're the one he fell in love with, the only one he'll ever give his heart to—he'd decided that the moment he saw you. but now he's scared—nervous. he's never fallen this deep into a relationship before. really, he's never actually had a real relationship at all. his numerous hookups never amounted to much, though he was never disappointed by the fact.

dazai admires the female form—he's been open about that. he's never been able to resist a beautiful woman, and though his intentions were never to hurt any of his previous partners, he knows he's broken a few hearts here and there along the way. but you, he could never hurt you—he'd rather die himself, but this newfound vulnerability has him feeling on edge constantly. maybe you aren't falling away from him, maybe it's just all in his head, he thinks.

"i could stare at you forever," he's talking to himself now, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest telling him you've fallen asleep again already.

as the room fills with quietness again, he eyes the little rose gold necklace hanging around your neck—he's always hated that necklace. truthfully, he loves your name—it sounds so sweet each time he hears it, no matter whose lips it comes from, though he'd prefer it to be his own every time.

my name would look better around your neck, he thinks. dazai doesn't understand how he's fallen so helplessly in love with you, it wasn't even a choice. the moment he saw you, making you his just felt like the right thing to do—like the only thing to do.

he moves slowly so as not to wake you, unclasping the delicate chain and slipping it from your neck. this doesn't suit you, darling, he thinks as he examines the nameplate pendant hanging from his fingers, his other arm tucked under you tightly, wrapped around you and squeezing you to him. we'll get you something better, yeah? something prettier.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

"i got you a little something," dazai places the little silver box on the dinner table, "for my pretty girl."

you wipe your mouth with your napkin, smiling brightly before reaching over the table to grab the box, "you didn't have to do that, osamu—what is it?" you're only being polite—he knows you're excited. it's been six months, after all—he can get you a present, right? it's not too much?

"just open it, love."

you open the box to reveal a silver nameplate necklace—the word "osamu" spelled out in delicate cursive letters. you gasp, "ah, it's gorgeous, 'samu!" your smile fades quickly though, and dazai thinks maybe he's fucked up. a wave of disappointment washes over him when you close the box. "i can't accept this, babe. it looks really expensive." the slight frown on your face has something ugly bubbling up in dazai's stomach, and he's not sure he likes it. don't you want everyone to know you're his? you're practically the apple of everyone's eye in the port mafia—he can't have anyone else thinking they have a chance with you.

"no, no—i want you to have it, angel. had it made just for you. you lost your last one, right?" truthfully, dazai practically runs the port mafia, and has more money than he can spend himself. a gift like this won't even make a dent in his bank account—but the thought of you carrying a little reminder of him with you everywhere you go, that much is priceless.

you frown at that, opening the box again and looking down at the necklace, your eyes sparkling as they follow the little diamonds decorating each letter. "ugh, yeah, i still miss it. i still don't understand how i lost it—i never take it off." he knows you miss it, it was a gift from your parents, one you treasured—you'd told him so. but that didn't stop him from taking it. you sound annoyed now, but your eyes quickly soften when you glance down at the necklace again. "alright, 'samu, i'll accept it. it is gorgeous."

he smiles at that, "shall i put it on you, then, love?" you nod and he circles the table, taking the necklace from you and delicately placing it around your neck, clasping it as you hold your hair up for him before he kisses the soft skin beneath your ear.

"how do i look?" you beam, letting your hair down.

"gorgeous. beautiful. sexy."

you roll your eyes, "stop it, 'samu. you think i'm better than i am."

"i know what you are—the most stunning person in the world." he leans down to kiss your lips softly, and you welcome the taste of him by wrapping your arms around his neck, nibbling his bottom lip softly before pulling away.

"thank you, babe. it's perfect. a little reminder of you everywhere i go, i love it." your smile is enough to comfort him even in his darkest moments—you've always been that way. he kisses you again, deeper and more passionately this time, cradling the back of your head as he groans and presses his tongue deeper into your mouth, intermingling with yours. he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. "bedroom," you breathe against his lips. "it's a special occasion, yeah? so fuck me like you mean it."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑

"dazai, it's our anniversary—why are you being like this?" he hates when you use his last name, it makes him feel even further from you than he already is in that moment—he never wants to miss a single beat of your heart, doesn't want a single breath to escape your lips without him—he wants to be there for all of your highs and lows, all of your happy and sad moments—everything.

and yet, you act like it's a bad thing for him to care so much—he only wants to keep you safe and warm, why can't you just give him what he wants? it was only a harmless question, why are you being so defensive? are you hiding something from him?

"being like what, exactly? you're covered in bruises, would you prefer i be indifferent to that? would that make you happier?" would that make you stay? his voice is so deep and hollow, it almost scares him how detached he feels from the world around him—he doesn't recognize any of it anymore. this isn't the life he wanted, this isn't the person you promised you would be. this isn't the person he swore he'd live for.

you told him you'd never leave, and he foolishly believed it.

it's almost as though he's not even living, but simply floating. "i guess loving so deeply is wrong in your eyes. . . perhaps you'd prefer i just not care at all." he feels utterly defeated, like he's talking to a mirror who can only stare back at him, can only replicate his emotions, but could never truly empathize with them.

he wants to die for a reason—that reason is because he's bored. he can't handle the indifference of everyone around him anymore—why doesn't anyone else realize we're all just playing a silly little game, afraid to show our true colors for fear our ugliness will have us sent straight to hell? this life is completely, and utterly, pointless—even more so now that he realizes you'll never truly understand him. he'll never have you the way he really wants.

it's tragic, really, how lost he feels without you. even still, he'll never let you go. even if you never love him the way he loves you, he'll stay—even if it means he can only share a few more breaths with you, that you'll only glance his way a few more times—he'll never, ever, ever leave you.

"it's not about the bruises, osamu—i've suffered plenty of bruises over the years working for the mafia. it's about the fact you think i fucked someone to get them." did you, angel? did you betray me? did you think of me when you were fucking him?

"they don't look the same as the other bruises you've had, that's all." he isn't looking at you now, he can't bear the look in your eyes—almost like you pity him, like you don't even want him in your world at all. is it all in his head, like all of the other times? he doesn't know anymore—he's lost, and confused, and it truly looks like you hate him.

"that's all you needed to say. you don't trust me, why? i've loved you with all of my heart, osamu—i don't know what else i can fucking do." you sound like you're on the verge of crying, and he doesn't understand why. you're the one leaving him, aren't you? aren't you the one who fell in love with someone else? or is he simply living in his head again, drowning in the nightmare he fabricated from nothing at all? "we can't do this forever, osamu. i'm tired. . . i'm just, so tired of this."

he's tired, too. tired of pretending. tired of hiding from you.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

"do you remember when we first met?"

"yes, of course."

"i wish we could go back to that." your voice trails off, and dazai's heart breaks at that. "what did you do, osamu? don't lie to me." your voice is commanding, but he's still too scared to tell you the whole truth—he's never lied to you, necessarily, he simply avoids the truth when he feels it could pull you further away from him. is he a bad person for doing so? he doesn't see it that way—it's just how his love for you pours from his veins by nature. what could be wrong with loving someone in such a beautiful and ugly way all at once?

"what do you mean, my angel? i didn't do anything." he didn't do anything he considers wrong, is what he means.

"yes, you did. you hurt someone."

"i've hurt many people. killed many people. it's never bothered you before." he doesn't raise his voice, but simply states it as a matter of fact—almost like it's something you should be numb to after over a year together.

"when we met, i thought you were the most beautiful person i'd ever seen. i knew you'd be the only woman i would ever love—that's what i remember."

"answer my question, osamu. or i'm leaving."

his heart clenches in his chest at the thought of you walking out, but he doesn't say a word in response—not because he doesn't have anything to say, but simply because he knows where this is going—and he wants to get it over with as soon as possible.

"he's my friend, dazai, and you hurt him." why are you calling him by his last name? do not you love him anymore?

"he hurt you," he responds flatly, as if he's done nothing wrong.

"it wasn't on purpose."

dazai doesn't want to hear any more claims of your partner's innocence—you got hurt on his watch, he deserves to die, as far as dazai is concerned. the only reason your partner got off easy was because dazai knew you'd be upset with him if he actually killed someone you care about. but actions have consequences, and hurting the person most precious to him suffers the most heinous—even when the perpetrator is one of his subordinates.

"i just want you to be honest with me," you state sadly. "what are you hiding from me?" your words surprise him as you step closer, "you should know by now, osamu. i'll love every side of you—the good and the bad. stop running from me."

"you don't want to see all of me."

"i do."

"you'll run, trust me, darling."

"i won't. i want you—i just want you, the real you."

how can he show you everything? how can he tell you everything? no one could love someone so cruel and heartless—so selfish and scheming and manipulating. ask any of his subordinates—he isn't a good man. he kills at the drop of a hat. he lusts after death. he disposes of those who are of no use to him. he loves you selfishly and disgustingly and desperately—taking all that you can give him although he knows he doesn't deserve it and never will.

"you took my necklace."

dazai flinches at that, "what?"

"you took my necklace, last year—i know you did."

he sighs at that.

"why? it was a gift, you know it meant a lot to me." you look confused and desperate, as if you've wanted to ask him this for a long time.

"because i'm selfish—because i wanted to claim you. because i want everyone to know you're mine. is that what you want to hear? i'm a disgusting person."

"dazai. . .?"

"i want to fuck you in front of my subordinates and let them all know you belong to me—i don't want anyone looking at you, i don't want anyone touching you or thinking about you or breathing the same fucking air that you do. shall i go on, princess? or have you heard enough?" he isn't angry, he's just tired, tired of pretending to be something he's not—tired of pretending he doesn't love you so much it rips him apart inside.

"no-" your voice stops him as he turns to walk away, "keep going. i need to hear everything."

"you're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart." he doesn't look at your face, afraid of what he'll see in your expression—fear, anger, resentment. he can't bear it.

"i need to know everything," your hand slips in his as you approach him, pulling his face to yours as your lips graze his, "i need to know you, osamu dazai—the real you. let me in, you won't scare me away."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓

dazai didn't think he could ever feel this good—not until this moment, when he's got you drunk on his cock and submitting to him the way he's always dreamt of—it's the filthiest sex you've ever had, and yet, the most gentle as well.

he has you bent in half in a mating press, something you've never let him do before—and your little body pinned beneath his, no way to escape even if you wanted to, has him rock hard, "ya like that, angel? y'wanna be mine, yeah? you're all mine."

"nghh- all yours, osamu. is this- w-what you wanted?"

"you're gonna love me now, yeah?" his voice is strained as he spreads your legs more, pressing deeper until he feels the gentle kiss of your cervix on the tip of his cock.

"g'nna cum again, 'samu, fuck." dazai is fucking you relentlessly—it's been this way for hours. once you told him you'd never leave, that you'd marry him and spend your life with him and die for him if he wanted you to. . . there was no hope left for him.

he can't get enough of you, he's never been able to get enough of you. he wants to breathe you in, wants to permeate your soul, wants to know what's going on in your mind—his favorite place to run and hide. he needs you, he lives for you, and in the end, he'll die for you.

"you're all i want, princess- nothing else, j-just you. . . just, fuck, love me. please love me. i need you to love me."

#— love notes: [dazai] ୧ ‧₊#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd smut #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons

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waldau · 6 months

Text

husband — lee seokmin | 1,220 words | fluff

this one is dedicated to lee seokmin's smile :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"no."

"what do you mean, no?" dokyeom asks, manspreading. the exasperated eyebrow raise you give him doesn't deter him in the least.

"no, i'm not sitting on your lap to watch a movie."

"there's not much place on this sofa, though," he says, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa to emphasize his point. he really can take up a lot of space if he wants to.

"the floor is all free real estate, as far as i can tell."

"there's no way i'm letting my sweetheart sit on the floor when i'm on the couch."

"this is how your sweetheart can do it," you say, simply sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and fumbling with the remote to find some good movie. you barely have two seconds of peace before he scoops you up in his arms and pulls you onto himself, so you're exactly where you said you wouldn't be.

"dokyeom."

he gasps. "my whole name?"

"be thankful i didn't call you seok—"

"can't hear you," he says loudly, one hand coming up to your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. you shut up for a second.

"ew," he says a moment later, taking his hand away from your mouth like it's on fire. "you licked it!"

"be thankful i didn't bite it."

"i'm thankful for you! isn't that enough?" he whines, hand returning to its place around your stomach.

your retort dies on your lips. you're still not used to how open dokyeom is with his words.

"i guess," you say. the remote lies forgotten on the floor.

"so," he says, turning you to face him, "why don't you want to sit on me?"

"i paid for this sofa, silly. i should be able to sit on it if i want to."

"but you know you don't have to pay anything for me. i mean, unless you want to," he adds with a sleazy wink, and it makes you laugh.

"what about functionality?"

"what about it?"

"the sofa's soft. sitting on you is like sitting on a rock."

"all that workout and you call me a rock? at least i'm warm!"

"okay, but what about a headrest when i need one?"

dokyeom guides your head down to his chest. "how's this?"

"hm. your heart's beating a bit too fast."

"that's because you're so close to me."

you let out a fake groan. "why did i have to get stuck with the cheesiest husband in the world?"

the moment you actually hear your own words, even mortified doesn't begin to cover what you're feeling. dokyeom lowers you down to the sofa and sinks to the ground on his knees, looking at you like you've given him the best gift he could've ever asked for.

"stop looking at me like that," you say, but you're not trying to bury your face into the fabric of the sofa. part of you wants to know what he thinks about your words.

he has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that's burned into your eyelids even when you close your eyes. it never fails to make you smile.

"i'm not looking at you like anything," he says, but one of his hands has snaked up to your face, tracing your cheek.

"you look like you're in love. it's embarrassing."

"you're the one that called me your husband. that's worse."

"is it?"

dokyeom looks at you with a softer smile before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. you loop your hands around his neck, pulling him back in for more. you never do get enough of him, even on days you spend all twenty four hours by his side.

"i think," dokyeom says when he pulls back, having kissed you to the point where you've forgotten your name for a few moments, "being married to you would be the worst thing ever."

"yeah?" you ask, tugging him up to his feet and letting all his weight fall on you. it's not often that he lies on top of you, and you're reminded of how strong he really is.

"mm. you'd have to change your last name to match mine."

"what if i don't want to?"

"i could always take yours."

you smile. "oh? and how would the wedding be?"

"we could run away and get married, just the two of us."

"and what, have seungkwan curse us for the rest of his life?"

"our lives," he corrects, propping his chin up on your chest. "we could have a beach wedding, though. or a wedding at our dining table."

"who'd be your best man?"

dokyeom shudders. "not facing that headache till we actually get to it. your turn. what kind of a ring do you want?"

you pretend to think. "an adamantium one."

"funny," he deadpans. "i was thinking we could get married on the moon."

"you were thinking about marrying me?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

"isn't that what we've been talking about all this while?"

"what else would be terrible about being married to me?"

dokyeom is the one who pretends to think now, his chin digging into your collarbone. not that you mind. "i'd want to be around you all the time. i'd make you call me your husband every time we meet someone. i'd spend so much time trying to find houses we'd like. terrible, no?"

you press a kiss to his forehead. "horrifying. would you marry me if i asked you to, right now?"

he looks at you for a moment more before hiding his face in your neck. "i hid something in the knife drawer that says yes," he says, voice muffled.

"the knife drawer?" you ask. "of all the places you could possibly..." dokyeom really does have the annoying ability to steal your breath, both with his kisses and words; your words dry up when you realize what exactly 'something' means.

"i learned it from the boys," he says, looking at you again, all proud. "you never know where to expect the mafia to hide their money."

you're not listening to him. it's the way he says it so easily. you were just joking about it, not even intending to say it, but the fact that he's had it in there since who knows when...

"kyeom, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

dokyeom looks up at you with wide eyes. "are you saying that just because i have a ring for you?"

you snort, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "no, silly. i love you. i know i don't say it enough."

"you don't need to," he says, gentle. "i know you do."

both of you lie like that for a while, your hand gently scraping through his hair.

"so if i ask you to marry me right now..." you say again, because you just want to hear his voice.

"ten more minutes and that ring is yours. but it's not adamantium."

"what a shame."

you can feel his grin against your skin. "what did we even want to watch?"

you can't be bothered to remember. "i don't know, but i want to watch you."

dokyeom snorts. "stop trying to be cheesier than your own husband."

you don't think you're ever going to tire of hearing that.

#bias wrecker ahh lee seokmin i love you and your smile so much #you have no idea how painful it is to see this sitting in your drafts for four days straight #lee seokmin #seokmin #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #dokyeom #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

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violetarks · 6 months

Text

fooled around and fell in love!

anime: ouran high school host club

characters: fujioka haruhi, suoh tamaki, ootori kyoya

summary: you have enough charm to make even a host fall for you! why haven't you joined the club yet?

a/n: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, reader isn't necessarily in love with them, they're just unintentionally getting the others to fall for them, but it can be read however you would like

↣ fujioka haruhi:

being the little plaything for the host club was not fun at all for haruhi. she would literally rather do anything else than this.

carrying four bags of food for the hosts, haruhi groans in frustration, "stupid rich people... why do they have to drink so many different brands of coffee?" she reaches into one bag, pulling out an order for hikaru. "he doesn't even like the ingredients in this. he just wanted me to say that long order for no reason..."

people watched the student struggle down the hall towards the host club room. haruhi felt a bit annoyed; didn't rich people have maids or something to do these things? a turn around the corner makes her stop on her tracks, nearly dropping the bags onto the floor.

a hand is held out to catch her elbow, steadying her feet. "sorry, i didn't see you." she apologises, holding the bags even tighter.

"it's okay." you retort, sliding your book bag onto your shoulder. you blink at her, noticing who she was. "oh, haruhi. good morning. you seem pretty busy already."

"good morning, y/n." she replies, nodding her head at you, "yeah, the host club needed a refill on a couple things."

"do you... need help?" you ask, tilting your head at her.

"oh no, it's okay." she spoke, shaking her head with a nervous smile, "i'm nearly there, and club activities are going to start soon."

you shrugged your shoulders, taking some of the bags from her hold. "it's okay, my meeting's been cancelled. i can help." you explain, giving haruhi a smile, "i don't mind spending a little more time getting to know you."

she held her breath for a moment as you led her to the music room that the host club occupied. you were well-known around the school yourself, not as much as the infamous tamaki but still. you shared world history class together and sat in front of her. she knew the sound of your voice by the end of the first month here at ouran academy, and it was no wonder why many of your classmates would seek your help for work. haruhi was good at reading people, so she could tell that you yourself didn't have any bad intentions.

you two became friends quite easily, and you had visited her a few times at the host club. you acted as a cool escape from the strange world of the rich that haruhi had to get used to. you spoke to her as if she was always a friend of yours, sweet and kind. she thought that, if you had tried to, you could knock even tamaki off of his pedestal.

"i heard from hikaru that your theme for this week is the opposite of a 'maid cafe'." your voice cuts through her thoughts, and she drags her eyes to meet with yours. heat rushes to her cheeks at the idea that kyoya had brought up to make a rise in sales. you chuckle at her reaction. "well, i'll have to make sure to stop by to see you."

haruhi rolls her eyes, looking out the window to her left. "please spare me the humiliation, y/n." she huffed out, frown tugging on her lips.

you only grin wider. "c'mon, haruhi, you know that’s the only reason i show up." you say, leaning forward to get a look at her face. she was burning even brighter, and it didn't help that when she glanced back at you, you were staring at her with that welcoming and heart-warming grin you always had for her. "should i switch to always visiting the twins, then?"

haruhi gives you a deadpan look, which makes you laugh. she knows you wouldn't, you literally only asked for her. but she couldn't help the feeling she experienced when you would say her name or look at her like that.

at the host club, you help drop off the bags as kyoya checks everything on his clipboard. at the bell, haruhi escorts you to the door.

"thank you again, y/n, for your help. i'll repay you." she says, knowing full well that all her payments were going to the host club for her initial incident.

you ruffle her hair a little with a smile. "no problem, haruhi. i'll always be here to lend a hand." you say, walking down the hall with your 'goodbye'.

haruhi spares you a wave, closing the door after seeing you turn the corner. when she looks back to her clubroom, she notices kyoya standing a few feet away, back against the wall. "oh, kyoya-senpai. i forgot you—”

“taking a liking to l/n, have we?” he taunts, clipboard under his arm. his glasses gleam with mischief and haruhi gulps. picking it up from the table, he hands her the costume for the day. “is that why they’ve become a regular now?”

she rolls her eyes and grabs it from him. “believe what you want, i’m not doing this out of pleasure.” she admits, hurrying to the change rooms. she passes the other hosts, all standing in the doorway and watching the two interact. haruhi stops on her tracks yet again, furrowing her brows. “what now?”

“what’s this? have haruhi and y/n finally begun dating?” the twins chime, wrapping their arms around haruhi as she begins to heat up, “the love story of the century, two pining young students unable to keep their affections a secret.”

kaoru glances to tamaki, who is fixing up his tie. “what do you say, boss? should we invite y/n to join the host club?” he suggests.

honey jumps up, holding his toy up in the air. “they would be so cute together, right taka-chan?” mori simply nods his head, looking indifferent.

“hmm. perhaps a new addition would spark some rivalry between haruhi and y/n.” tamaki concludes, “many of our guests would love to see the lovers battle to be the best! yes, that is a splendid idea! haruhi—”

turning around, he sees haruhi exit the change rooms in her butler outfit. she huffs back, shaking her head, “i am not inviting y/n to join the host club, you idiots.”

she walks passed them, ignoring the banter they were spouting and the arguments they had for you joining the club. in the end, it was a definite no.

she didn’t know what it was. maybe she just really wanted you to herself.

↣ suoh tamaki:

tamaki, like always, was surrounded by the girls of ouran academy.

if there were any sign that today was just going to be another day, it would be that. the sounds of screams and dreamy sighs, the voice of tamaki swooning them all, and the trail of hearts left behind. another day here at school for you.

but, like always, the club members would make fun of him for his eccentric ideas and whatnot. as they leave to go to class, tamaki stands in the music room with a disappointed look on his face. whenever he would put a frown on his face, the customers would come rushing in! hold his face, cling to his side! why must his friends be so disheartening?

when the door opens to the music room, he expects it to be kyoya to drag him back, and he throws on his frown again. "oh, kyoya! i'm so sad!"

"why is that, tamaki?" you ask, closing the door with your sheet music under your arm and your violin in hand. he blinks at you, obviously not expecting anyone other than the club members. "my apologies, i walked into the wrong room. why are you here by yourself?"

to play it off (although he has never seen you attend any club activities, only ever seeing you in his literature class) he stands up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. he chuckles out, arms thrown to his sides, "o-oh! don't mind me, i'm just a bit down. i didn't expect such a sweet maiden to make herself known at such a time! how are you on this fine day, mx l/n?"

when you tilt your head, walking closer to his spot at the couch. "a sweet boy like you should never be left alone to sulk." you state, sitting down across from him. he widens his eyes, gulping. "where are your friends?"

"uh... they are in, um, class!" he says as the end-of-the-day bell rings. you only smile. tamaki sighs, dropping his whole get-up and looking to his hands, leaning back against the softness of the couch, "i suppose they left me here while they went home."

"you don't want to go home yet?" you question. he shakes his head. you only exhale, placing your sheet music on the table and your violin next to you. "well, if that is the case, then i'd be happy to keep you company, my lovely."

he widens his eyes as he looks to you. a faint blush paints his cheeks. "you... would?" you nod your head twice. he then smiles. "truthfully, i have no business being here right now. kyoya had called off our club meeting because of exams coming up and the twins failing some classes. and if they fail, they can't be in the club."

"is that so?" you say, making conversation, "well, i suppose you can spend your time with me."

"do you not have a lesson to get to?" tamaki asks, concerned as he glances to your sheet music, "i wouldn't want to keep you—"

"would you like to come to my practice, then?" you offer, smiling softly that it makes him hold his breath for a moment. you were so charming, in such a different way than he was. it was enticing. "i'm sure you wouldn't distract me. not on purpose, that is."

your little joke at the end makes him nervously laugh. "oh, i... i wouldn't want to bother."

"you're not bothering me, tamaki." you honestly say. he unconsciously leans towards you, eager to get closer. you stay where you are, smiling at his actions. "and it seems you just can't resist me."

he catches himself falling. he almost can't believe it, but he then fixes himself and his posture, standing up straight. "r—right, well, i... you...!"

you chuckle, standing up and taking his arm linked in yours, "alright, prince, let's go."

he gasps as you guide him to your practice room, so confident through the halls. he's scared someone will see him in such a flustered state and his cool prince facade will fade. but luckily enough, you navigate your way easily and shut the door behind you.

except, it doesn't take you to the music room. no, in fact, you and tamaki end up on one of the balconies that overlook the quieter side of school — opposite side from the host club.

"i practice here during our breaks and study sessions." you admit, placing a music stand and clipping your sheet music to it. unlatching you violin, you glance to tamaki. "away from all your fangirls, that is."

he raises a brow, catching himself finding his confidence again, "jealous, perhaps?"

"what do you think?" you say, tuning your instrument.

tamaki blinks, staring at the ground as he sits at the bench in front of you. he states, "there is no possible way you could've gotten the wrong room, you know."

you raise your brows, looking back at him. a slow smile creeps onto your lips. "your club passed me in the hallway before i saw you." you admit, waxing your bow, "i just wanted to make sure ouran's pride and joy was okay."

his heart swells at your words. he doesn't know why, but all of a sudden birds sings for you, flowers bloom in your presence the breeze smells sweeter.

"thank you..." he hums, smiling at you sweetly, "may i hear something?"

you lift your bow, nodding your head, "yes, your highness."

his heart explodes at the first note.

↣ ootori kyoya:

if there was one thing kyoya was good at, it was analysing people's strengths and weaknesses. the smart one, glasses-wearing, everything. he was it.

but one thing he couldn't understand was why you were so popular.

you were a part of the school student committee, and as a part of your duties, you hd to do monthly check-ups on clubs to see if they were still eligible to continue. while the host club never failed, you would still drop by without a doubt.

today was one of those days.

kyoya could tell you were near by the increase in whispers and gasps around the hallway. once heard, he excused himself and walked off to grab the folder that held the statistics for their monthly report.

as if on cue, you enter, herd of admirers behind you.

"ah, good evening, mx l/n." he says, offering a bow, "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"it's good to see you too, ootori." you chime, bowing yourself, "is your report ready for this month? it is the 31st after all."

kyoya can almost hear the agonising tone in your voice, hidden by your politeness. but he doesn't waver, holding out the folder. "indeed. like always, we are right on time." he tells you.

you take it from him, opening it up and falting. kyoya raises a brow. "is something the matter, l/n?" he questions.

you look up at him with the faintest smile. "perhaps you're pulling my leg here, ootori. this appears to be last month's report." you chime, pinpointing his mistakes at its core.

he takes the folder from you and reviews the dates. you were correct, this was last month's report. he scans the room until he locks eyes with the twins, who shrug their shoulders innocently and walk off.

"i... apologise. it seems the twins have taken it into their own hands to file the report for this month." he sighs, fixing his glasses, "if you'll follow me, i will find it for you."

you agree, smiling as those you pass before you enter the side room with kyoya in front of you.

as the doors shut, you click your tongue, "oh kyoya, those two run circles around you, don't they?"

the host rolls his eyes, taking out the box of reports from the cabinet and setting them on the desk. he does miss how his name sounds on your lips. so soft.

"they are a pain, but we make do." he huffs, "must your enterage always follow you when you come see us?"

"oh it's not just when i come here." you state, hand on your hip, "it's everywhere."

you were so smug it made him scowl. he opens the box and notices that they are all out of order. he groans, "we have to look through every individual file, i'm afraid."

"luckily this is my last club for tonight." you sigh, taking out a couple folders, "i can help you organise these."

"but wouldn't your fanclub miss you too much, y/n?" kyoya speaks, doing the same thing and looking through them.

"you're one to talk." you chuckle.

"i truly don't understand how you manage to gather so many followers. you're merely treasurer." he complains, shrugging his shoulders, "do you like being followed around like that?"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic personality. you and kyoya had been friends for ages now, and it seems the popularity you acquire puts a strain on your relationship.

"i don't mind being followed, but i do like all of my friends." you state, flipping through pages, "i speak to all of them regularly."

"so they talk to you and you enjoy it?" he questions, raising a brow at you. the thought irked him. why did you speak to so many people? he could call bullshit. but you shrug your shoulders.

"everybody wants to be liked by the person they have a crush on." you say, knowing tone. every one of your "friends" have or have had a crush on you, which is why they speak to you in the first place. "it just so happens that i like making friends."

"that's preposterous." he huffs back, "i don't understand the severity. i don't feel the need to be liked by you."

"that's because i already like you, kyoya. we were friends since forever, after all." you state, putting one report into the correct folder as you glance at him working, "do you not feel the same?"

"frankly, it doesn't matter to me." kyoya says, ignoring how his chest felt at what you said. it was reassuring to know you still liked him.

"what, are you saying that you don't like me, kyoya?" you say, overdramatic voice on. you move closer to kyoya, tilting your head and jutting our your lip. he swallows his nerves "even after everything we've been through? i'm hurt."

"quiet." he grunts, pushing you away as you laugh. his face grows warmer. "just... find that report and get out of here. it's almost time for club activities to end."

you stare at him for a moment, watching red grow on his cheeks in frustration. your friend has always been this way, even though he acts more familiar with you in private, his embarrassed look never changes. you just see it more than anyone else. that's just how you were.

"okay, kyo." you chuckle, moving to the other side of the table and continuing your work.

kyoya sighs to himself, fixing his glasses and calming himself down. how could you be so... charming? and effortlessly so? is this why everyone fawned over you in a similar way to how they fawn over tamaki?

a few more minutes pass before you've found the file and managed to organise the rest of them. kyoya breathes in relief, putting the box away and silently cursing the twins out.

"thank you, kyoya." you hum out, tucking the folder under your arm, "i'll let you know what we come to."

he puts his hand on the door and before he opens it, he turns to you. "you're welcome. please do. it's the only time we ever... see you." he admits, seeing your raised brows.

your smile drops for a second before you sigh, patting his back, "i'll be sure to come and visit more often then. just for you."

when he opens the door, tamaki is trying to swoon your crowd to leave. he cheers and waves his hands, but to no avail. when they see you, they follow after.

"i apologise for extending my stay, suoh." you say, nodding at him as you stand in the exit, your crowd behind you, "i'll see you all soon."

with a wave of your hand, you leave, smiling at kyoya one last time. the twins turn to him immediately.

"so, how was your date with y/n?" they chime, leaning on his shoulders.

"it wasn't a date, you morons. you do realise how much trouble you caused." he says, a sly smile on his face, "seems like a punishment is in order."

the twins dash out of the room before he can say another word, the other members talking quietly amongst themselves about you.

but kyoya only looks down at his clipboard, once again counting the days til you come again for your monthly report.

#ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc #ohshc x reader #fujioka haruhi #fujioka haruhi x reader #suoh tamaki #suoh tamaki x reader #ootori kyoya #ootori kyoya x reader #anime #anime x reader

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

Text

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement.

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire.

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him.

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties.

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled:

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself?

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed.

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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pearlesscentt · 7 months

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love in the little things : svt hip-hop unit

── alternatively: the times when actions whisper softly, but the love speaks volumes.

svt (hiphop unit) x reader, established relationship, fluff , 642 words

vocal unit | performance unit

꒰ 🫧 ꒱ — there's a sense of calmness that SEUNGCHEOL feels when he drives around with you right by his side. whether it's the daily commute to work or a night out with your friends, he insists on being the one to take you there. "i find peace in it," he said one time when you asked him about it.

and sure, the experience of driving beside him is a joy in its own right, but what tugs at your heartstrings the most is his steadfast commitment to punctuality. you had mentioned to him once how being made to wait on your own makes you anxious; he understood this unease, that's why he never lets you experience that anxiety. it washes you with relief and comfort to see him patiently waiting for you when you get out the door.

for more of this, check out open road promises.

꒰ 🫧 ꒱ — like the pitter-patter of the raindrops, it became a pattern on countless occasions already. it was instinct for WONWOO that every time it rained; he would subtly shift the umbrella he was holding up for the both you, so that you would get more than enough shade to keep you dry.

whether it was a drizzle or a downpour, he would position the umbrella at an angle just to give you more shelter. every now and then, he would even steal glances at you to make sure you were comfortable, without a care for the rain-soaked shirt clinging to his arm. it was a gesture he never talked about and never seem to have to think twice about — his tiny habit that means so much to you.

in the midst of the rain, wonwoo never fails to wrap you up in the most beautiful kind of warmth.

꒰ 🫧 ꒱ — with his wholehearted belief that what's his is yours, MINGYU loves to give you the best bites of every food he eats. initially, you thought it was just a simple act of sharing, which was already sweet in itself. yet, during a cozy movie night at his place, the realization hit as you both were enjoying a bag of gummy bears. it dawned on you that he had been actively avoiding your favorite colors, making sure that you had them all to yourself.

since that moment, you grew more aware of it: the cheesiest slice of pizza, the fudgiest corner of a brownie, the juiciest chicken drumsticks, the scoop of ice cream with the largest chunk of cookie dough, and the portion of the corn dog with the perfect cheese-to-dough ratio, among many others. his smile that radiates joy and fulfillment every time he does it — a wordless testament to his love for you.

꒰ 🫧 ꒱ — you smiled as soon as you saw VERNON's name flash on your phone screen. though you never know what to expect, it was a familiar occurrence in your day-to-day — his penchant for sending you the most random texts in the most random times throughout the day.

"look what i just saw that reminded me of you!" one of them read, it was then followed by a picture of puddle in the shape of a heart. this has become a delightful routine that never ceases to make your heart jump every time you feel your phone vibrate, notifying you of a new message. but it doesn't stop with images of heart-shaped objects; he sends factoids ("did you know that honey never spoils?"), casual updates of what he's up to ("babe i spilled water on myself and now i look like i peed my pants"), little reminders for you ("don't forget to eat today okay?"), and your favorite of all, his tiny confessions of love ("i love you and i can't wait to see you later!").

the spontaneity of it is what you loved about it. the thought that during arbitrary moments in his day, his thoughts are filled with you.

svt masterlist | navigation ── reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated !

#svt #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt scenarios #svt headcanons #svt fluff #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #vernon x reader #scoups imagines #wonwoo imagines #vernon imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff

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ratstwond · 2 months

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Smiling Critters? As if the cartoon show?

Disclaimer: This is made for fun, there's no specific lore to them.

Warning: Bad English.

MC will be a Red Panda, since i did research about these little fellas and immediately fall inlove with them. But that doesn't mean i won't write for Lamb!Reader or Other animal!Reader.

Reblogs and comments are encouraged! Any kind of interaction are appreciated!

Pervious || Next

Confusion plastered on your face when you rolled to the side, expect to feel the hard, unforgiving cold floor. You were met with the soft patches of grass, tickling your skin, swaying slightly to the cool wind. Colorful flowers surrounded you as if they're concerned. The smell of fresh air assaulting your nostrils, lacing with a tint of newly baked pie. Sounds of laughters and happy squeals filled your eardrums instead of off-putting silence or screams that get you traumatized for days. Your body is light, relaxed, the backpack's absence seems to

Is this heaven? Or a dream? Was everything in Playtime.co just a nightmare? So many questions running through your mind.

Bird's chriping snap you out, you brush it off. More distracted by the newly surroundings, warmth envelopes like a weighted blanket as you squint in surprise when the sun light grazed your eyes. Unfamiliar with the sudden change of environment. Being in the dark for so long with makeshift lights and sunny sky had your body unconsciously adapted, naturals make you recoiled.

You feel like crying. You don't know when was the last time you bother to think about the outside when all you focused was trying to survive. Reality hit you like a truck and left you broken.

"Oh no no! Don't cry!"

In the midst of moment, hands reaching out to cup both sides of your face, tilting you chin upward gently. You can't help but jolt, quickly get on your feet and stood with your arms raised, tail puffed up and claws out.

You got a good look at the foolish soul that dared to touch you so suddenly and immediately you recognize the familar mascot. A bear. Who's equally as spooked as you, debating whether back off or calm you down. Red fur with some lighter tone of red, heart necklace dangling on its neck, signature blackened eyes with white pupils, and a stretched out smile. She is nervous, and you're too. Both of you had a stare off for what seems to lasted 3 minutes before the bear decided to cut the tense string.

"Hi-! My name is Bobby Bearhug."

You stared, Bobby took it as a sign to continue.

"I'm really sorry.. For touching you so suddenly like that. It wasn't a wise choice-"

"No-nono! It's okay! It's not your fault, i wasn't in my right mind!"

Now it's her turn to stare at you, unexpected as you fumbled, fiddling with your fingers nervously. Now it's her turn to jolted when you let out a short scream after you took a good look at your hands- er paws? Colored fur instead of normal human skin you once had. Panicked, you ran to a nearby river, glancing at your reflection just to be met with a whole new body. Built exactly like the critters, black conjunctiva with white pupils, unsual big mouth. A red panda. And oh you smell like old books-

You grabbed your own ear.

"Wah- hey!"

It was a bit stupid to tug it so harshly like that, the painful ache on your head is enough for you to know that this is real. You groaned in pain, sitting on the grass then get spooked by seeing your tail tucked beside you. Bobby, upon watching you - couldn't help but snort while you're busy freaking out by your own tail.

She shook her head, taking her seat beside you - who had done with their silly antics and is too tired to move - as she only smiled. You're still confused why all of the sudden you woke up in another- word? Yet, weird shits happened all of the time so you maybe will just go along with whatever came to you.

You told Bobby your name, which, the bear immediately brightened, smiling happily. She shakes your hand when you held out,

"You're silly." She added.

"Thank you."

#smiling critters #reader insert #x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smilling critters x reader #fanfic

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sorrowsofsilence · 3 days

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Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

#sorrows of silence masterlist #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian angst #angst #sad poem #bad omens angst #angst fanfic #desolate love

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forever-rogue · 9 months

Note

Hello there Bee, your writing for Miguel O'Hara was perfect, thank you so much for it 🫂

I was wondering if you could do one where he's so deeply in love with her but doesn't want to tell her because he's afraid of being rejected, he wants to protect her so they always go to missions together until one day she gets hurt and because he's afraid of loosing her, he finally tells her how he's been feeling for a long time

Thank you so much c:

AN | It’s been a minute but here we are with some more grumpy x sunshine! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Nondescript mentions of violence, Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Inhale. Exhale.

That's what you kept repeating to yourself as you approached the front doors to the Spider Headquarters. Your heart beat around your chest but you tried to push away all your worries and insecurities.

Well - the one major worry you had anyway. Most things didn't scare you anymore, you were well past that point in your life. It was one singular person that made you nervous. Miguel O'Hara.

The man that appeared to hate you more than anything or anyone else. You weren't even sure what you had done to bring on the hatred but it had appeared slowly at first and then all at once. Now you just tried to avoid him as much as you could, but in the event that you were faced with him, you tried to be as kind as possible. There was no reason to be mean, right? You hoped that one day Miguel might get that memo as well.

When you got inside, you looked around and tried to see if anything seemed out of place or…if there was some sort of chaos. But it all seemed utterly normal so you walked towards your little desk area.

"Hey there!" You startled at the sound of Peter's bright and happy voice, spinning around in your chair to find him watching you with an overly cheery smile, "how're you today?"

"I'm just peachy, Pete. What's going on?" The man's face flushed and you knew immediately that something was going on. He was so easy to read despite his best efforts.

"Umm…well," he waved his hands around for a moment, stammering nervous as you just stared at him, "well, I don't…your day might get worse."

"Oh?" You leaned back in your chair as you raised an eyebrow at him, "and just why is that? What do you know that I don't?"

"You're supposed to be partnered with…Miguel today," he said it so quickly that you almost didn't catch it. But the name stood out so clearly that you were immediately able to figure out what was going on, "just so you know, you know?"

"How do you know that?"

"Word spreads fast around here," he volunteered lamely, as you sighed at him, "and ugh, it might be my fault."

"What?!" He was afraid of exactly this reaction and flinched slightly, "Peter - why?"

"I have to be home today," he cleared his throat, "big family thing with MJ and Mayday. So…you know."

"Fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, "fine. Only because I love your wife and daughter as much if not more than you."

"I am so sorry," he grimaced, "I'll make it up to you somehow."

"It's…it's fine," you swallowed the lump in your throat. It did suck…but you'd live and would just be as kind as usual. And it would be over before you knew it, "this is going to be…fantastic."

“Just don’t kill each other and it should all be fine,” Peter kept taking a few steps back, creating a further distance between the two of you, “and then we can all resume our normal programming next week!”

“I don’t hate him,” your voice softened as a frown tugged down the corners of your mouth. You truly didn’t hate him and you hated the idea that people would think you did. You always tried to treat everyone with the same kindness and you were known for being a ray of sunshine, “I think… I think he might hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Peter shrugged slightly as you sighed lightly, “he’s just that way with everyone. He’s a huge douche, you know that.”

“As much as I appreciate your opinions Parker,” both of you froze at the sound of his voice. He sounded just as annoyed and frustrated as ever, “I believe you were supposed to leave already to get back to your wife and daughter, no?”

“Uhh, yup…that’s…gotta go!” he looked between the two of you before offering you a small grimace and turning to basically sprint away. You bit the inside of your cheek before turning your attention to the man in question.

“Miguel, I-”

“Get suited up,” he didn’t even spare you an actual glance. He merely caught your eye before turning around to leave again, “we’re leaving in twenty. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Miguel.”

“Don’t be late,” he was already walking away again and all you could do was sigh, “or I will leave with you.”

Yeah, okay, cool, cool, cool. This apparently was going to be the absolute worst; part of you was almost tempted to be late just so you wouldn’t have to go. You weren’t feeling very welcome but at the same time, your duties were important and you weren’t about to let him go alone.

“Well then,” you attempted to psych yourself up, “let’s do this…and get it over with.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel had been silent, to the point of it being almost eerie, besides giving you some instructions and directions. You'd tried to make some small talk at the start but the only responses you received were grunts or scoffs. It had definitely deflated your mood and after a while you gave up and remained silent.

"Hey," Miguel waved his hand in front of your face as you snapped back into attention. You hadn't realized you'd spaced out so much, "are you even paying attention?"

"Y-yeah…yes," you offered him a tight smile as he hung his head with a heavy sigh, "sorry. Could you just run that by me again?"

"I need you to focus," he caught your eye and there was a dangerous glint to him that caused you to swallow thickly, "otherwise I'll send you right back and this is the last time you'll get to go on a mission."

"That's not fair!" You hadn't meant to sound like a petulant child, but at least you hadn't also stomped your foot. His jaw twitched as he glared at you, "you've never said that to anyone-"

"Morales."

"He's a child," you ran a hand through your hair in exasperation, "this isn't fair, Miguel and you know that. Why do you hate me so much?"

If you'd been looking at his face you'd have noticed the way his face fell momentarily. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control the squeaking and stop the tears that threatened to well up.

"You're also so mean to me!" Alright. Maybe you were already sounding hysterical but it was a lot of emotions at once, "its always me! I try to be nice, Miguel. I don't like not being nice, it's just…not in my nature. But you make it so hard. A-and I'm not asking for anything spectacular, just a hello once a while or at least don't totally ignore me when I'm talking to you!"

“Are you finished?” his tone was the same as it always was: cold and calm and calculated. You tried to blink away the burning of your eyes.

“No,” you put your hands on your hips and stared him down, “if you’re going to be mean to me or act like I’m the worst thing in the world, can you at least tell me what I did to offend you so much? I mean - why even have me working with you and the rest of the team if you don’t trust me or think I’m worthy of being here! If I’m such a horrible person, just cut me loose and let me go so you never have to see me again!”

By the time you were done, angry tears had run down your cheeks which you hastily brushed away. You felt like you had just put your heart and feelings on the line and he didn’t seem phased. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow before sighing heavily, “if you’re done, we’ve got some bad guys to catch.”

“Y-you’re not even going to say anything to what I just said?” your lip trembled with effort not to cry further. He’d already turned his back to you and started to walk away. Only this time, you didn’t run after him to catch up, “fine! You know what? I quit! Do this yourself!”

You didn’t even wait for a response before turning on your heel and walking in the other direction. You were already out of sight by the time Miguel turned around and realized that you’d been serious. He ran a hand over his face in exasperation before stomping after you, muttering under his breath. He hadn’t wanted this at all; especially because this meant that he couldn’t keep any eye on you.

“Hey!” you’d been walking around for a bit when you finally heard the angry voice. Your shoulders stiffened when you realized that Miguel had found you. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of falling back to him, you kept walking with your head held high. But then you felt a harsh hand wrap your bicep and pull you back.

“What the f-”

“Finally,” oh. That voice definitely wasn’t Miguel. You slowly turned around and found yourself with…well, the bad guy. He looked at you with a wicked smile that caused goosebumps to well up all over your skin, “I’ve been looking for you, little Spider. Only I was hoping you’d be with that big, dumb guy.”

“Listen buddy,” you tried to pull out of his iron grasp to no avail, “I’m already having a shitty day and I don’t need you making it worse. The big dumb guy isn’t around, it’s just me unfortunately. And I recommend you let me go before I make you regret your decision.”

“You’re so funny,” he leaned closer so he was almost face to face with you. He smelled terrible and looked even worse; the worst realization of all was that he was a murderer…and you were alone with him, “you really think you could stop me all by yourself? So cute.”

He reached out and ran his hand along your jaw, instantly making you feel disgusting and gross. Your heart started beating rapidly and you willed yourself to regain your muster and strength. It should have been so easy to overpower him, but he was surprisingly strong. That was one of the worst things about dealing with other powered beings…someone always had the upper hand.

“Let me go,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” he took your jaw harshly in his hand turned your face to his, “help me catch Miguel O’Hara and I’ll let you go.”

“Nope,” you might not have been in the Miguel fanclub at this point but you weren’t about to betray him or put anyone else at risk. You figured that the longer you were able to stall, it might give Miguel more time to get to you and take him. You’d never hear the end of it, but it was better than nothing, “sorry buddy.”

“Bitch!” he let go and pushed you back before striking you across the face, causing you to stumble and trip over your feet. You feel onto your backside with a groan before touching your stinging face, “it could have been so easy! We both want the same thing - to get rid of the Spider!”

“I don’t want to get rid of him,” you tried to scramble to your feet as he loomed over you but your hope was quickly starting to dissipate, “he-he’s fine! The only person I want to get rid of you is you!”

“Too bad,” he cackled before shrugging his shoulders, “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll be getting rid of you…and eventually that big idiot will come looking for you and then I’ll have him too. A two or one deal - can you imagine? What a dream!”

“Hate to break it to you,” your hands before getting scraped up as you tried to pull yourself out of his reach, “but he’s not going to come looking for me. He doesn’t care that much.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” you couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped your lips as he stepped on your ankle and crushed it under his boot, “you’re a pretty face, that’s enough for most men to come running. It’s almost a shame to kill you but-”

The next thing you heard was a sickening crack before the pressure on your ankle was gone. You opened your eyes and looked around the alley, only to find your would-be murderer on the ground and bleeding. A choked up sound escaped your lips as you looked up to find Miguel standing over you.

You prepared yourself for him to begin yelling but, to your immense surprise, it never came. Instead you watched dumbly as he bent down and scooped into your arms and stood back up with you clutched to his chest.

He studied you for a moment before tenderly wiping away the little bit of blood that had trickled down from the corner of your mouth. You had never realized that he could actually have such a gente touch.

For a few moments he walked in silence before letting a heavy sigh and shaking his head, “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Your brow furrowed in surprise but you remained silent. Your head felt foggy and you weren’t sure you wanted to push anything just yet. All you wanted to do was go home and get some rest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since the incident with Miguel and you felt well recovered, except for the faint bruising that remained on your face. Really, though, that was the least of your worries. Ever since then, you’d been trying your best to avoid Miguel, while continuing to be surprised that he hadn’t booted you from the team yet.

“Hey,” you froze at the sound of his voice and turned around to find Miguel standing at the edge of your cubicle space. You swallowed thickly before squeaking out a response that made you cringe internally, “can we talk?”

“Umm…yes?” you looked at him and waited for him to make the next move. He turned and motioned for you to follow him. It felt like some sort of walk of shame as you trailed after him like a puppy. He didn’t stop, ignoring the whispers and titters from the other Spider-People as he beelined for his office. You kept your gaze trained on your feet and almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped, “oof.”

“Sorry,” you’d never heard him apologize before. Odd. He closed the door behind and leaned against it, “listen, I think we need to clear some things up.”

“We do?”

“Mhmm,” this time he found it difficult to look in your eyes as you hopped up and sat at the edge of his desk, swinging your legs, “I just…I don’t want you to think that I hate you know or ever hated you. It’s never been like that.”

“Could have fooled me,” you shrugged slightly, already having made peace with his dislike of you.

“I know, I…fuck,” he ran a hand over his face in exasperation, “It was supposed to be easier this way.”

“What way?”

“If you hated me,” he finally managed to get out as you blinked at him owlishly, “then it would have made it easier for him to keep my distance.”

“But I don’t hate you,” you shook your head, “I don’t hate anyone…and I could never hate you.”

“Even now?” he chuckled harshly, “when you definitely should?”

“Even now,” you confirmed you heard his small exhale of relief, “now I just…I guess I’m just confused as to how you do feel about me.”

“When you left me and I couldn’t find you and then…when you’d been hurt…I thought…” he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. You let his words sink in and tried to process the meaning behind him, “I didn’t know what I would do if anything had happened to you. All I could think about was beating that bastard to a bloody pulp.”

“Oh,” the gears were definitely turning as you came closer and closer to your conclusion. And then it hit you all at once and your entire face turned warm. You looked over at Miguel and could see that his cheeks were a darkened pink, “oh.”

“Umm…yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck nervously before nodding slightly, “I just never know what to do or say. I-I’ve never been good with words. Keeping people at a distance makes things easier. If there’s no attachment then there’s no room or heartbreak.”

“I understand that,” you agreed softly, “but that’s no way to live.”

“I’m starting to see that,” he allowed himself to meet your eye and the two of you exchanged shy smiles, “so I guess I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Is that all you wanted to say?” you felt a little bolder now, nerves buzzing with everyone he had said and things that were left unspoken.

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s a good starting point, I think.”

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, “I think so too.”

“Cool,” he ran a hand through his hair nervously, “cool. Listen, I…want to do this right. So can I umm, do you want to-”

“Yes,” you slid off the desk and almost skipped over to him, “I’d love to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #spider man 2099 #oscar isaac #spider-man

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hey love!! hope ur well. was wondering if i could request a steve drabble?? one where the reader maybe flinches in an argument kinda like the one with james. i know you’ve done a similar one with steve already so all good if you don’t wanna do it xoxo

hi I hope you're good too! some hurt/comfort for you!! ♡ fem!reader | 1.2k words

When Steve raises his voice it's not on purpose. He's infamous for having a short fuse. Far from unkind, he wasn't raised in a house where patience held much value, and it's something he's actively learning. He's good. He's a good guy, but when he gets angry he can't help it. You wouldn't hold it against him, almost everybody yells, though maybe you should've told him before how it can send you into flight mode.

You hadn't exactly been anticipating an argument today. Hadn't anticipated his stern looking face, his hand on the back of the kitchen chair while the other tugs through his hair restlessly. The argument, about his friend Dustin's role-playing game of all things, has devolved into accusations that aren't quite true.

You don't want to go. Steve, frustrated, doesn't understand why you don't like his friends.

"It's not that I don't like them, Steve, I just don't get the game. I feel awkward," you say, voice strained toward the end.

"Well, god forbid you feel awkward," he says dryly.

Which hurts your feelings a lot. Like being hit in the chest with something sharp. You grasp the ends of your shirt in your hands and frown at him. "Don't you think that's unfair? It's a game I don't play and a bunch of people I haven't gotten to know very well yet, and I'm not like you, Stevie, I'm not."

"You don't want to get to know them," he says. Unfairly, in your opinion.

"That's not true. Don't be an asshole," you name call, also unfairly. His face betrays how personally he takes it, worse when you say, "This is bullshit, you can just go without me."

"I don't want to go without you, for God's sake!" he shouts. Though the majority is said at a reasonable volume, it's 'sake' that peaks, loud and abrupt and enough to make you take a step back from him, flinching.

You remember your shoes are behind you a moment too late and slip, hands out and palms stinging as you hit the ground. You gasp at the sharp pain spiking up your back, your coccyx having taken the brunt of it.

Steve rushes forward to help you up. His sudden movement makes you flinch worse, disorientated from the fall, and he stops dead where he is.

After a second and a few hard blinks you raise your hands up, a silent ask for him to pull you up.

He ignores your hands and bends at the waist, pulling you up into his chest. "I'm sorry," he says over your head. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just slipped on my shoes."

"Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm- I'm a fucking idiot." His hand ghosts up the length of your aching back, his chest tight to your chest. It's a bit much, your heart still racing, and you push against his chest for some space to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You take a funny deep breath – it wobbles as you suck it in, catches when you exhale.

It's Steve, you think. Everything is fine.

"I didn't mean to…"

"No, I know," you say. Your voice sounds too high, not quite your own.

"I'm sorry."

You try to laugh. "It's okay. It's fine. You just surprised me."

"I scared you."

"No."

His eyebrows furrow as he looks down at you. Carefully, he brings his hand to your cheek. You lean into it and feel tension like a wound coil, his and your own, release. His palm warms your skin.

"I just… I get jumpy. I wasn't expecting it."

"Did somebody-"

You shake your head before he can ask. "Doesn't matter."

He looks like he wants to say, Well, it does matter. Of course it matters, but you wince and it steals his attention.

"Shit, did you hurt yourself?" he asks, hand moving down the curve of your neck to clutch your shoulder, the other on your hip like he might check you over.

"Bruised my backbone, I think."

He pulls you into his side and raises your shirt, looking over your back with his fingertips prodding carefully, so low down that you forget your worrying for a moment and start to feel shy instead.

"Here?" he murmurs, pressing into a quick-forming bruise.

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll get you an ice pack, okay?"

"It's okay. It's okay," you repeat as he starts to pull away, feeling peculiarly close to tears. You curl your fingers into his and frown. "Are we still arguing?"

He looks surprised and then softens. "No. You're right, I was being an asshole."

"I didn't mean it."

"You were right either way. You don't know them, and I don't expect you to-" he squeezes your fingers, "to warm up to my friends already. I really want you to like them, but it takes time. And I got mad when I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

You want to say sorry too but apologies always feel so clunky in your mouth, and you struggle to get it out, "I'm- I'm sorry. As well. It's not because I don't like them, Steve, I just…"

"I know. I get it."

You nod at him.

He smiles and kisses your cheek, quick and careful, "Let me get that ice pack, pretty girl."

"It's not that bad," you say after him.

"You're on bed rest," he says into the freezer.

He sweeps you up into a hug and walks you backwards into the living room, a huge space with an appropriately overlarge couch. He helps you down onto your front and kneels in front of you so he can hold the ice pack over your injury.

You rub your cheek against the soft fabric of the couch cushions. Steve tilts his head to mimic yours, the two of you looking sorry and fond and a touch embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," you tell him again. He's pretty and he's your boyfriend and it always feels weird after you argue, like you've messed with the balance of the universe.

He takes your arm into his hand and pushes his thumb into the skin, dragging semi circles that send a rush of familiar butterflies up the back of your arm. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. It was just a-" He searches for the phrase, says it all light and teasing, "a lovers quarrel."

"We are lovers," you concede, copying his drawling tone.

He smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, and his lips part before he talks like he's weighing each word. "You'll tell me eventually, right? Why you flinched?"

You sober up. "Yeah, I'll tell you. It's nothing to worry about Steve, I was being stupid."

He frowns at your attempt to minimise and closes in until your noses brush. "No, you weren't."

He kisses your lips and then the skin under your nose, the very beginning of your cheek and then the apple of it. His lips track warmth over your face until the tip of his nose bumps your earlobe. He holds you still and presses a great firm kiss underneath it.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things

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shiningqueen · 6 months

Text

Waltz

An attempt has been made to write Law. That is all. Rating: SFW / e for everyone. Notes: Fluff, pining. Not beta-read, we die like men here. Characters: Law x gn!reader.

The music is as vibrant and lively as the crew's energy, bodies flowing and dancing in a rare moment of reprieve from sailing. Most of them are drunk and that makes their attempts to dance to any sort of rhythm hilariously bad.

You arent dancing though. You're content to watch the ensuing free entertainment provided generously by the Heart Pirates. At one point, you see Penguin try to perform a headstand and promptly fall flat on his face, to the resulting guffaws of his fellows.

"You aren't going to join them, [Name]-ya?" Law's smooth tones pull your attention away, tilting your head obligingly towards the captain.

You shrug, "Probably not, I dont recognize whatever dance they are trying to do." A bemused smile tugging at your lips as you gesture to the unsteady swaying and wiggling of the crew. "What about you? Wasn't Ikaku trying to get you to dance?"

Law huffs and shrugs a shoulder, "I dont dance." He dismisses blandly and feeling bold, leans slightly into your shoulder. You definitely do not mind the casual proximity and hum in nonverbal acceptance to his excuse.

You weren't officially part of the crew, even though Law had offered you a position, but now he was sort of grateful you hadn't accepted. You were a useful ally to have on standby, not only for your skills in battle but your intel gathering had proven exceptional. Having someone with your freedom to prowl the seas and get in and out of Navy bases without stirring trouble was invaluable.

It also meant that he didnt have to worry about letting his growing attachment to you get any more serious than a passing fancy. Sometimes though, he wondered.

The music shifted into lighter, flowier melodies and that makes the gathered pirates try to hook arms together and sway messily. You laugh as Ikaku tries to coax Shachi into slow dancing with her.

"So," you say casually, "you don't dance or you can't dance?" Peering over at Law and - had he been staring at you? - there's a twitch in his brow as he swiftly glances away. Oh, was he bashful? That was really cute to see.

"Why is it of any concern to you?" He retorts dryly but lacks any kind of irritation otherwise, shoving hands into the pockets of his jeans and jostling against your shoulder from the movement.

More laughter bubbles up and you slide your arm through his, shifting your weight to tug him along with you a few steps. He stumbles with a curse at your antics, "Come on, I can show you a few steps. I took profressional lessons back home." You coax him and are delighted he doesnt really resist, especially since you're leading him a few yards out of sight from the crew. As if you knew he didnt want anyone else to see such a thing.

"[Name]," there's an attempt to complain but Law cant find it in himself to get upset, he feels a bit too warm under the collar when you reach to take his other hand in yours. "When am I going to ever need to know this?" He sighs but does not resist whatsoever when you place his hand on your waist. Was his heart starting to race? A slight quicken in his chest but he doesnt try to pull away.

You smile winsomely at him, "Dancing can help one with swordplay, dont you know?"

"I fail to see the similarities," he deadpans to try and hide the flustered squirm in his stomach.

You weren't going to tease him for getting all red faced and twitchy; there was a lot you had noticed about Law over the past few months of being acquainted with him. The tentative way he tried to get close to you, the slight touches, how he never turned you away from late visits in his office. Finding ways to disturb his calm, collected rhythm had become something of a guilty pleasure of yours.

"Just follow my lead," you reply softly, hand on his shoulder and your other clasped with his. Slowly you tug him into the first step, "I'll count, it's just a pattern. One, two, three." You go through the motions of a waltz, repeating the count under your breath to keep him on track.

Law finds the rhythm quickly enough after a dozen missteps and muttered apologies when he accidentally steps on your foot. He wont admit it outloud but it was nice to hold you a little closer than he normally allowed, circling and circling with his eyes trained on your face. His frazzled nerves werent so easily assauged though, he didnt really know what to say in the moment and just listened to how you whispered 'one, two, three' like it was a melody all of its own.

When you unwind your hands and stretch out to do a twirl, then slowly step back towards him, Law curls his arm around you and pulls you flush to his chest. Your waltz comes to a halt, with him frozen and you watching with a tender smile on your lips. If he leaned in just a bit more, he could kiss you, if he felt daring enough.

"You learn fast," you murmur and tilt your head forward just enough to touch noses with him. "What do you think of more lessons, Law?" Oh it was a lot of fun to see him blushing just from proximity and the hushed quality of your voice.

Law collects enough of his composure to release you and step away, clearing his throat and ignoring the burning of his cheeks. "Aren't you leaving tomorrow to scout ahead?" He deflects, hands back in his pockets to try and forget the warmth of holding you. (He wont forget.)

"Whenever I loop back with the gang, I can still teach you. No pressure," you answer easily with a shrug, mentally stamping down the fluttering in your own stomach. "I should probably head off to bed, gotta leave early and all that." The moment had passed and you knew better than to stick around and make things awkward.

Too many words stick themselves in Law's throat as you turn to walk away; how often you leave him speechless could be made into a damn bingo card. And you'd win that bingo over and over too.

"[Name]-ya," he manages to unstick his tongue, "I'll uh, think about it. Have a goodnight."

You glance back and salute him playfully, "Aye sir, goodnight."

#|lumi's tidbits|#|mine|#one piece scenario #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fanfiction #fluff

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