#ignore the shitty ass chair

[helluvadyke]

what a mighty fine chin rest ya got there

#emphasis on the ‘mighty fine’ #ignore the shitty ass chair #look out for part 2 where alastor interrupts them huehue #my wifey #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel x reader #rosie x reader #my art #iris the hellhound

[capslocked]

HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she knows. 

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

-

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things. 

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it. 

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'. 

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?” 

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast. 

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken. 

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips. 

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more. 

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow. 

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked. 

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face.

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss her if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"You can remember I'm only who you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors. 

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees. 

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get. 

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic

[foli-vora]

too close

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: more porn, idk what to say lmao. i want him to be cold and rough and i want it to hurt, y’ know what i mean?? anyway, here’s a supremely pissed off joel — enjoy! x

word count: just under 3.1k

warnings: swearing, very brief violence/mention of weapons, a close call, clicker attack, joel being a hero and being annoyed af about it, angsty vibes, the king of emotional constipation, SMUT 18+ ONLY: brief hand job, being restrained by being held down, unprotected p in v, very rough sex with bit of pain, no orgasm for reader coz punishment, cum shot over da assss

He hadn’t spoken.

Nothing. Not a single damn word since it happened.

Your heart still thunders in your chest, pounding in your ears and threatening to break free from its bone cage. The adrenaline has long worn off, leaving you with a tremble in your hands you can’t quite seem to get under control.

The weight of it still lingers on your body. The inhuman high pitched roar of it still circles your mind on an endless loop. The overwhelming rush of fear had paralysed you, frozen you under its brute strength and your touch had been numb around your weapon. That should’ve been it for you—done. Dead. Torn to fucking shreds right there on the filthy, muddied floor.

But he’d come out of fucking nowhere. 

A body had rushed in from the side, the clicker barely able to turn towards the noise with a wailing screech before a weight spear tackled it and gave you the chance to roll back onto your feet. You had watched, through dazed eyes, as Joel had wrestled with the creature before firing a few bullets into its sickly orange flared head with his own roar of fury.

The snarl hadn’t left his face as he stood, glaring down at the clicker, almost daring it to fucking twitch, before he spun for you, tugging harshly at your arms and collar to look for any marks. He’d shoved you away after his hurried check, uncaring as you stumbled back from the unexpected rough touch and seemingly satisfied with your untorn skin.

He had ignored your shaky thank you.

Though he doesn’t talk, he still touches. His hands cover any sharp surfaces you pass, his forearm presses into your chest to keep you from moving forward when it’s too risky, his palm pushes at your head to ensure you get through the tunnel without hitting your head—

Little things.

Little things that let you know he’s not about to throw your ass out onto the streets of the QZ for being such a fucking idiot… you hope, anyway.

The silence remains, thick and uncomfortable, all the way back until you finally reach your quarters undetected. Joel dumps his pack on the floor without a care, striding straight for the bottle of shitty homemade booze left out on the table. You hang back, nervously fiddling with your fingers as he downs a generous mouthful, ignoring the drop that escapes his lips and melts into his patchy beard.

You swallow, tongue sweeping over your dry lips, “Joel?”

He doesn’t react.

Instead, he tears a chair out from where it’s tucked under the table and allows himself to drop into it with a sharp exhale, one hand brushing down his tired features. His eyes focus beyond the floor, the slosh of the amber liquid the only sound in the dark room as he nurses the bottle slowly.

“Joel.” Firmer. Harder. “Can we talk ab—”

“No. No, we cannot.”

The pure acid in his rumble of a tone burns. You shrink from the force of it.

“Joel, I… I’m really sorry—”

“Oh, well shit—that just makes it all better!”

“I’ll be quicker next time, it just took me off-guard, bu—”

“‘Next time’?”

It’s incredulous, spat through tight lips as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever fucking heard in his life. His wild eyes suddenly focus on you and your breath sticks in your throat. They zero in on where you stand, still hovering by the door, nervous to take a step further into your shared dwelling.

“There ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ ‘next time’. Your ass is stayin’ in the QZ—permanently.”

“What? Joel—”

“I do not want to hear it,” he snarls. “The hell were you thinkin’, huh?! It fuckin’ had you!”

It all comes back. The feeling of it hitting you, grabbing you, forcing you to the floor and screeching in your face. Death had been mere inches from you, death had had you in his damn grasp. The shadow of it brings a shiver along your skin.

“I know.”

It’s weak, pathetic.

“You can’t afford to freeze like that! Not out there. You get one chance to not fuck up—one fuckin’ chance! If I hadn't been there… Jesus Christ.”

He shifts to lean forward, resting an elbow in the upper crease of his knee as his fingers press tightly into his eyes and rub. You step lightly towards him, crossing the space between you and carefully reaching out to run a hand along the arch of his back, feeling the muscles jump under your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, carding your fingers through his dry, mussed strands and softly working through the slight knots sitting there, “I really am—”

He bitterly knocks your hand away, jerking away from your touch like you’d burnt him, and it cuts into your heart, tearing through muscle and spilling a vicious icy ache through your chest.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he mutters stiffly, standing from his chair and walking away from you.

You bring your hand back towards your chest and swallow the thickness building in your throat before you can choke on it. The rejection stings, and the tears that build along your lash line are automatic.

They blur your vision of him standing at the window, back to you, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He’s rigid, posture hardened by the mix of emotion filling him. You know better than to approach him again, and instead sink down into the chair he vacated.

Silence returns, the tension rolling from his shoulders in waves reaching you despite being across the room. You pick at your skin, peeling the flakes of dried mud from your hands and pulling at the stray threads loosened from your sleeves.

Was there any way of coming back from this? It had taken you weeks to wear him down enough to even think about taking you out of the QZ on a small run, and now? He’d never go for it again. You’re back to having the mile high walls as your prison, your cage.

You’re more capable than this, you’d just been surprised is all. Surely you weren’t the first person to have been taken off guard by their appearance? To wonder how the hell something like that could come from a human? You’d never seen one at that stage before… couldn’t he just understand?

There were others, a quiet voice rings through your mind, only they never made it to the other side to think about it, to question it.

It could’ve killed you, it could’ve killed Joel, and that was all on you. All the work, all the planning, all the potential earnings… gone to shit, because you couldn’t keep your head straight the second you ran into trouble.

“I’m sorry for ruining the run,” you mutter, quickly swiping away the hot tear trailing down your cheek, “I’ll find extra work and get you the ration cards you’ve lost from this.”

He slowly turns to face you, a deep scowl carved into his stone set features and his arms drop to his sides, his hands clenching into fists. You fight the urge to curl in on yourself and remain stiff shouldered, returning his glare with a shakily stubborn gaze despite the few remaining tears that slip free from where they gather along your lashes.

“Christ. Is that what you’re thinkin’ about right now?” He’s quiet, but the rage still simmers away beneath the surface of his tone, causing the already deep drawl to roughen. “I don’t fuckin’ care about the damn cards.”

“Then why are you so fucking mad at me?” You cry out, “I said I was sorry! I made a mistake, everyo—”

“I almost fuckin’ lost you!”

You freeze at the sudden volume of his voice, the low simmer now a full boil. His shout bounces off the cracked walls and brings a whole new kind of silence to the room, the sheer ferocity of it bringing your heart into your throat.  He shakes his head and turns back towards the window, saying nothing more and leaving his words to hang in the dark.

The little thing between you and Joel had never been defined, and probably never would be. He just wasn’t like that. Sweet nothings and declarations of feelings had never, and will never, leave his lips. You weren’t even sure he liked you most of the time. You’re almost positive you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him, merely there to fill the deep void of loneliness the disaster of a world brought upon everyone.

But his words have your mind racing. Would it have bothered him that much? Does he see you as something more than an annoyance? Was it just as a companion, or maybe it ran deeper? Do you dare let the small bud of hope growing in your chest blossom into something stronger?

“Joel—”

“You should get some sleep.”

There’s no room for argument.

You give a small nod and stand, shedding the thick jacket draped from your shoulders and kicking your boots off. He doesn’t acknowledge you again, never moving his attention away from the window as you do a quick once over your dirtied skin with your damp rags before slipping under the thin, patched together blanket draped over the bed.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask quietly, eyes following the curve of his side profile illuminated by the hue of street lighting seeping through the glass.

“No.”

Swallowing the discomfort starting to constrict the back of your throat, you give a strangled, “Okay,” and roll over, turning your back to him and burying your face into his pillow to hide the tears that escape when you squeeze your eyes shut.

He does.

Sometime in the early morning, your hand brushes against his back and it’s enough to bring you out of your troubled slumber. You’re careful not to jolt the bed too much as you shift closer to him, pressing up tight against his back and carefully smoothing a hand along his side.

You soak in the warmth his body provides, inhale the familiar waves of dirt and sweat that constantly roll from his skin. If you focus enough, you can detect the faint traces of mint that linger beneath the grime from the bar of soap it had taken you weeks to save for. You knew he liked it.

He’s awake—you can feel it. The tension is still wound tight in the muscles of his shoulders, his body still practically trembles from anger, but at least he doesn’t push you away again. Your hand wanders further, smoothing down to run over his stomach and up to his chest, resting over the heavy drum of his heart.

“Are you still mad?”

Silence follows your question. Did he hear you? Maybe you’d been wrong in your earlier observation and he was, in fact, asleep. Or he was just simply ignoring you, but then finally—

“Yeah,” he answers in his thick exhaustion riddled drawl, the word rough on his tongue.

“Oh.”

There’s nothing more to say. What could you say to make it better? Nothing. It had happened, and now you simply had to wait it out until the rage started to seep from his system. Would it take days? Weeks? Your hand starts to wander as you think, and you pay no mind to the paths it makes until you feel him stiffen under your touch.

You feel your fingers brush along the waistband of his jeans and your heart jumps in your chest, beating just that little heavier. He still doesn’t push you away. Maybe there’s nothing you could say, but maybe something you could do? Give him an outlet, a chance to work the anger from his system—

Heart pounding, you let your fingers slip beneath the denim and rake through the thick patch of curls there before finding his soft cock and carefully taking it in your grasp. There’s not a whole lot of room to work with the unforgiving stretch of his jeans, but you settle for what you can do, keeping your strokes light and restricted.

It doesn’t seem to matter.

His cock swells in your hold, the soft flesh thickening and hardening until it strains against its confines, throbbing heavily in your hand. The feel of him responding to your touch lights a fire in your core, every shallow jerk you make over his cock sending waves upon waves of warmth through your system until it builds in the pit of your stomach.

This could work. This could—

A hand curls around your wrist and tugs, tearing it out from inside his jeans and throwing it back towards you. Your stomach twists at the harshness of it, a brief flutter of panic shooting along your nerves as Joel tears the sheet away from his body and turns on you.

“What the hell are you doin’?” He demands in a rough grumble and you’re rolled onto your stomach before you could even think of uttering an apology, pressed into the unforgiving mattress by the weight of him straddling your upper thighs. “You think jerkin’ me off will make everythin’ better? You think it’ll make me forgive you? Huh?”

“N-no—”

“No?” He parrots gruffly, taking a wrist in each hand and pressing your hands into the bed. “That’s what it fuckin’ feels like.”

“That’s not—” you shift under the weight of him, attempting to adjust his grip on your wrists only for him to briefly tighten his hold, “—Joel, I—”

“You think I’m gonna soften on you just coz you’re touchin’ my cock?” He continues as if you hadn’t said a word, pushing himself roughly off your wrists and curling his fingers into your waist until it stings, forcing your ass up until he can curl over you and shove a hand to the front of your pants, “Think again, girl.”

He tears them open and straightens, fingers digging under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear before tugging harshly at them until your ass is bared to him. He doesn’t bother taking them completely off, merely shoving them down enough out of the way so he’d be able to reach your cunt.

It’s a rush. Your heart thunders in your ears, your nerves wind tight in anticipation. He’s not gentle. Your skin burns where the denim had been yanked down, his hands grab and squeeze until an ache follows his touch. 

You’re barely able to comprehend the faint sound of a zipper before the blunt head of his cock is suddenly pushing between your thighs and nudging at your folds. It’s instinct to tense, knowing you’re not even slightly ready to take him, but you find yourself arching into him nonetheless.

He lines himself up, probing at your entrance before letting his hips slam forward in one savage thrust, forcing you to take the entire thick length of his cock and crushing you into the mattress. Your cry of surprise, pain, melts into the bed; your hands scramble across the bedding in search of something to hold, something to steady yourself with as he starts to move in earnest.

His pace is brutal.

It’s quick, hard.

A clear punishment, and you take it all eagerly, muffling the various noises he rips from your throat into the bedding. Arousal steadily builds as you flutter and clench around him while he takes what he wants, the feeling of him hitting a spot that feels almost too far in your cunt shooting right through your system until you feel tears sting your eyes. 

Every hit to that spot is blissful agony, your body jolting and twisting from the feeling of having him practically in your stomach with every upwards thrust. The more you try to squirm away from him hitting so fucking deep, his hands tighten and tug you back, pressing you into the mattress and unable to move away from the steady force of his hips.

A hand curls around the nape of your neck, pushing and pushing you further into the bed and keeping you completely still and at his total mercy.

It’s too much. It’s fucking perfection.

None of it is for you.

Your swollen clit throbs from the lack of attention, the ache in your core only growing wilder and wilder as his cock continues to pound into you with no end in sight. There’d be no edge, no release. Only Joel and the way he seemingly tears you apart from the inside out, forcing your body to take the weight of his fury, the weight of his fear, again and again.

The cry that leaves your lips is sharp when he eventually rips himself away, his broken exhale mingling with a downright obscene grumble of a moan doing nothing to temper the relentless fire birthed from his aggression. He finishes over your ass cheek after fisting his cock and giving it a few firm jerks, painting your skin with his hot cum and letting the weeping tip of it slide through the mess as he comes down.

You pant into the bedding, your fingers still clutching the sheets for dear life. They ache when your grip finally loosens, your joints protesting the sudden relaxing of the digits. You hurt. You throb. You tremble from the rough fucking, your cunt quivers and weeps for more despite your walls feeling tender from his merciless entry. 

He rolls off of you to sit on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his now wild hair and drawing in a few deep breaths. Your eyes begin to flutter, your body heavy where it sinks into the mattress. He leans forward and braces his forearms on his thighs, barely sparing you a look at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he warns lowly, bringing you briefly out of the haze coaxing you further and further into an inky black abyss, “do you understand me? Never again.”

The words go unspoken, like so many had done before—I can’t lose you, too.

-

everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories​, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks​, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair​, @alexxavicry​, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist​, @outercrasis​, @thisshipwillsail316​, @toxicfrankenstein​, @hotchlover​, @ew-erin​, @mishasminion360​, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp​, @woodland-mist​, @pedro-pastel​, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell​, @1andthesame​, @elegantduckturtle​, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @sleep-tight1​, @musings-of-a-rose​, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23​, @frasmotic​, @songsformonkeys​, @loonymagizoologist​, @aynsleywalker​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @what-iwish-you-knew​, @princess-djarinn​, @totallynotastanacc​, @girlofchaos​, @pjkimrn​, @bangaveragewhitewine​, @trickstersp8​, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate​, @ms-loverman-066​, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1​, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt​, @tusk89​, @withakindheartx​, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance​, @titabel​, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo, @loveslide​, @artsymaddie​, @untitledarea​, @sukunababe​, @emiemiemiii​, @your-slutty-gf​, @wisecolornight​, @emilianamason​, @justreblogginfics​, @marcmurdock​, @everythingisspokenfortbh​

joel miller: @jujuliaispunk​, @joelmiller67​, @tubble-wubble​, @uwiuwi​,

plus my two gorgeous babes who i think will enjoy: @charnelhouse & @frannyzooey

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #pedro pascal x reader

[velvetures]

Doesn't Crease

A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)

Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.

You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.

“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.

You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.

Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.

You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.

“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.

“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.

“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.

Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.

“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.

“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.

Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.

“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.

“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.

“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.

“One and the same.”

Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”

For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.

You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.

The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.

Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.

“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.

Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.

Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.

-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

[byeoltoyuki]

Remedy

↳ Pairing: Minho x reader

❧ Genre : established relationship / fluff / smut

❧ Words : +2k

❧ Warnings: oral (f) / orgasm denial / hair pulling

❧ Summary : You were his best and favorite remedy.

❖❖❖

You came back home as soon as you received Jisung’s text. No matter that you were in the middle of a family dinner. Family mattered of course, but when the said message mentioned your intimidating, yet lovely, boyfriend, you had only one thing on mind: get back to your shared home and take care of him. Fortunately for you, your family knew how deeply you loved and cared for Minho; they didn’t question your sudden need to get back. No, instead they shook their heads, gave you a hug and hoped to see you soon.

“Hey Y/N.” Jisung was the one to greet you, looking exhausted and barely holding it together. You guessed the business meeting didn’t go so well after all. He eyed you from head to toe and whistled, impressed. “You look good.”

You did. Since you had a dinner at an expensive restaurant, your dad’s choice, you made an extra effort to look good. You wore a simple black, long sleeve dress that hugged all your curves perfectly, along with high heels. You flipped your hair, playfully and smirked. “I know.” Then, you pointed at him, “You, on the other hand, look like shit.”

Jisung palmed his face, already in pain, and shook his head. “And as lovely as ever.”

You blew him a kiss. “Where’s the grumpy man?”

Jisung glanced over his shoulder at the closed door to Minho’s office. Of course, he would lock himself in his office when things didn’t go his way. Not that a door could stop you from getting to him.

“You should leave him alone.” Jisung advised. He knew you wouldn’t listen, not when it came to Minho, but he still tried.

You walked towards him, smiling. “Yet you sent me the message. You wanted me to get home and deal with him.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

“I know.” You winked at him.

“Insufferable. Just like him.” But Jisung smiled.

That you were.

❖❖❖

Minho’s mood was sourer than you thought. He sat in dead silence and in full darkness in his office – it still didn’t dampen your spirit. You switched the light on, unbothered, to have a proper look at your boyfriend. Minho watched you from his chair, his legs spread, his eyes dark and deadly. You appreciated his attempt at scaring you, but he knew better, after three years of dating, nothing could faze you anymore.

“Hi babe.” Your mouth curved into a smile as you studied him from your spot. When Minho was upset, there were only two possible outcomes; either he would ask you to leave him, which was fine even if you wanted to help him, or he would nicely use you to get rid of his frustration. And quite frankly, who were you to say no to this outcome?

You approached him, slowly, your eyes locked. He still hadn’t uttered a single word, choosing instead to observe you and see what you would do, daring you silently to do something.

“Heard you had a shitty day.” You said as you stopped right between his spread, toned legs.

Minho chose to ignore this comment; he didn’t want to talk about his day and definitely not about the meeting. Instead, he straightened up and put his hands on your hips. “How was dinner?”

“It was nice.” Nice could mean a lot things. It could be really nice, or it could be your way to say you were bored but it was still nice.

Minho knew it and easily guessed how you truly felt, yet he still decided to tease you. “That’s why you came back so early?”

Feeling particularly bold tonight, you leaned closer and cupped his chin, lips hovering over his. “No. I came running home when I heard my lovely boyfriend got upset.”

That earnt you a gentle slap on your ass – not that you minded. Quite the opposite even. You smiled, satisfied with his reaction and pecked his lips before pulling away.

“What a nice girlfriend you are.” His mouth twitched, not so moody anymore. His hands hovered over your ass until he slowly started stroking your legs. Gentle, feather-like touches that sent shivers down your spine. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Aren’t you a lucky man?” You teased and put your hands in his hair, playing with his locks.

Minho hummed in response but his attention was fully on your legs as his hands slowly hiked up your dress, exposing more of you, more of your smooth skin. Such a beautiful sight, how could he resist? With one swift movement he lifted you from the floor and put you on top of his desk.

“Someone is eager tonight.” You laughed heartily. You spread your legs a little more for him to settle in between, his hands resting on your thighs.

“Can you blame the man when his girlfriend looks so good tonight?”

“Smooth. Very smooth babe.” You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him harshly so you could claim his mouth. Kisses with Minho, no matter how sweet it was at first, always turned into a battle of dominance – that you always lost. He was stronger and hungrier and full of passion that consumed you every single time. Tonight was no exception.

Minho was first to break the kiss, but instead of pulling back from you, he pressed his forehead against yours and kept his eyes closed, savoring the sweet moment, savoring your warmth.

“Touch me, please.” You pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

It stunned you how easily Minho gave in. It should have been your clue that it wouldn’t go your way, not so easily. Slowly, he slid down. Minho didn’t hesitate and hooked your legs over his shoulders as he knelt before you. He pressed soft kisses along the inside of your thigh, slowly, too slowly. You needed more.

“Minho.” You urged him.

“What’s wrong?” He kissed the fabric of your underwear making you whine.

“Not enough?” He teased, knowing damn well it wasn’t enough. “Tell me what you want, come on.” He looked at you from between your legs, looking smug and evil. The temptation to just grab his head and pull him against you was so strong, but it would do you no good.

“Is it my tongue?” He pressed his lips once more against you. “Or do you want my fingers?” He played with your panties, pulling at them before snapping them back. “Or is it my cock?”

“Anything. Just please.” You begged

He tsked in response, unsatisfied. “So needy.” Still, he pushed your panties aside, exposing your flesh. “What should I do with you, hm?”

You didn’t answer that and fortunately for you, he didn’t mind, for once. The first lick of his tongue was all it took to make you throw your head back and moan softly. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what made you squirm, what made you jolt, what made you moan his name over and over again.

You gripped the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white as Minho played more with you, teasing you with every stroke of his tongue. He took all his time with you, slow yet precise just to drive you crazy.

“Minho.” You moaned, your legs shaking.

“Hmm?” He hummed, never stopping.

You tried to move, to rock your hips against his tongue, wanting more friction, wanting to feel more of it – he didn’t hesitate. He growled and pinned your hips to the desk. One look was all it took to remind you who was in control.

His tongue delved inside and you gasped, trying to hold to your sanity. You were so close, Minho could tell.

“Fuck, Min, I’m so close.” You cried out at the press of his tongue. “Please.”

So close and yet Minho ruined it all by pulling away.

“Minho!” You whined, desperate and incredibly frustrated with your ruined orgasm.

Did it faze him? Not even a little. Instead, Minho smirked and got back to work. Once, twice, by the third ruined orgasm, tears pricked your eyes. You were shaking and panting.

“Minho, please, I can’t. Let me come.” You begged and tried to reach for him. With no use. Minho pulled completely away from you and straightened up to face you, smirking like the jerk that he was. “I fucking hate you.”

A dumb thing to say, you knew, he knew, and yet in your frustrated state, it was the only thing you could come up with.

Minho grabbed your throat, his grip strong, almost bruising. “Say that again, come on.”

But no words left your lips. Not when he was putting pressure on your throat. Not when he was looking at you with so much lust in his eyes and so much fondness. He loved watching you fucked up because of him – and he wasn’t even done with you.

He leaned over, his lips lightly brushing yours. “Not so bold anymore, are you?”

Minho pulled you from the desk only to bend you over it, loving the sight of your exposed ass. He couldn’t resist it; he spanked your ass, once, twice, every slap strong and precise, making you bite on your lips to prevent your moans. He admired how easily your skin turned bright red.

“So damn pretty.” He stroked lovingly your bruised ass, soothing the pain. “And all mine.”

Minho hurried to pull out his cock. Despite being the one in control and all the teasing, he was slowly losing the self-control. Still teasingly, he slapped his cock against your center making you shiver and whine in pure need.

“Please, please, please.” You begged, unable to hold back the tears of frustration. You needed him, badly, him and his cock.

Minho showed you mercy by burying himself deep inside you making you both moan. He stilled, letting you time to adjust to him, to the fullness, to the delicious stretch. Minho tried to resist the urge to simply pound into and seek his release; his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin. He was breathing hard.

“Fuck, you feel so good, babe.” He groaned. He leaned over you and pressed gentle kisses to your shoulders, to your back. Maybe it was to distract you, maybe it was to distract himself.

He pulled out slowly before thrusting back with more strength – his thrust making your eyes roll back in your head.

Minho set a strong and fast rhythm. He delved deeper into you with every thrust, reaching all the spots that made your toes curl, that made you cry out his name.

“Shit, babe, feels so good.” You mewled, pushing back against him.

“You were made for me.” His hand found its way to your hair and he yanked them hard, forcing you to arch your back and press yourself harder against him, “Nobody can make you feel this good.”

“Only you.” You agreed in your delirious state.

“That’s right.” He growled, lips latched on your neck, leaving bright red marks. “Only mine.”

His possessiveness was what drove you to your limits – your body shook as you convulsed around him, crying out his name. Minho kept pounding into you, drawing out your pleasure and trying to reach his own climax.

Minho groaned as he came inside you, spilling into you. He collapsed on top of your back, breathless. “I’m a lucky man.” He managed to say. He peppered your back with small, loving kisses which made you giggle even in your exhausted state.

“I know.” You turned to face him. He looked much more relaxed now, a pretty smile on his beautiful face – you melted. “I’m lucky too.”

Minho chuckled and without hesitation lifted you bridal style. He carried you outside of his office. “Hell yes. I should just marry you and make sure you never leave my side.”

“What a terrible way to propose. I expect better.” But despite his attempt, you laughed heartily, your heart swelling with love and fondness for this man. “But it’s a yes.”

Minho halted, stunned with your admission. He stared at you, opened his mouth and closed it right away. It wasn’t his intention to propose, not now and definitely not like this. But just maybe, you drove him crazy enough to forget his initial plans. He shook his head in defeat, and chuckled.  “I love you.”

“I know.” You didn’t hesitate and pecked his lips.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #lee know #lee minho #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #remedy

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie’s Memory Log Day 1:

part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here

(ao3 link here)

The only reason Steve volunteers to keep a journal to track Eddie Munson’s skim-milk memories, is because of the twerps.

They have school, they can’t commute to the government-protected hospital that’s all the way in the city. That, and they gave Steve this well-rehearsed, tearjerker performance about how grateful they would be.

About how grateful Eddie would be.

Pfft like shit on a stick, he’ll be grateful. The dude doesn’t even remember how old he is, how the hell is supposed to be grateful for Steve Harrington jotting down notes in binder?

But those kids have been through Spielberg-level disaster shit. Steve has too, but they’re just kids.

So he’ll do it. He’ll do it for them and only them.

Eddie knows his name today.

He’s pissy - he’s always pissy cause Eddie is battered up beyond belief. But still, he’s extra pissy today because Dustin is his favorite visitor and he hasn’t stopped by in almost a week.

Eddie knows Dustin’s name today too.

And guess who’s his least favorite visitor?

“Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, mouth full of lime jello. “Who paid you to be here today?”

Remembers Steve’s name… last name.

“No one.” Steve makes himself comfy in the vinyl armchair. “Call me crazy, but I’m not too big on taking lunch money from sophomores.”

Speaking of which…

“Do you know you know how old you are?”

Eddie crumples the plastic jello container. “You’re a patronizing sack of shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, starts to write down:

Eddie doesn’t know his age.

“Twenty.”

Eddie does know his age (20).

“Swell.” Steve fakes his amusement. The kids are much better at cheerleading Eddie along in this process. But Steve’s poker face is nonexistent. Sarcasm and assholery occupy every seat in his brain these days.

They go through a few more questions before Eddie begins to get tired. He’s tired a lot, even though the coma knocked him out for almost four months.

Guess holding hands with Death really takes it out of a person.

Eddie doesn’t know his birthday.

But Eddie does remember it’s in the winter (has a memory of seeing leafless trees from an early childhood birthday party).

Eddie remembers his uncle’s name.

Eddie doesn’t remember which street he lives on.

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

“I’ll let you rest.” Steve folds the binder shut, sort of desperate to do anything to get Eddie to stop whining. Seriously, he thought this guy was funnier pre-bat attack.

Eddie doesn’t remember he has a sense of humor.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Eddie settles into his pillows.

Steve shrugs, puts his hands behind his head. “I took the bus from Hawkins today. The next one doesn’t leave for another few hours.”

“Still… it’s a city, right? You can go explore or whatever. Be a tourist.”

Yeah Eddie’s persuasive skills aren’t completely back either, it’s all very half-assed.

“Been here before.” Steve lounges deeper into the squeaky chair material. “I’m good.”

“Probably haven’t seen everything is all I’m saying -”

“Do you want me to leave that bad?”

Steve doesn’t shout, but his tone takes up space. Makes the room feel crowded with accusations and cutthroat honesty.

Eddie stares back hard. Sometimes, he doesn’t look like Eddie Munson - he looks like this war victim with knotted-up hair and sulky brown eyes.

Like a John Doe cadaver - tagging his foot with the possibility of Eddie Munson.

Anyways, that’s how he looks right now as he stares at Steve. Barely Eddie.

“Just. I don’t know you.” That’s a shitty ass comeback for someone with a memory-tank that’s perpetually blinking with the low-engine light on. 

Eddie continues with his weak argument. “Were we close enough back home that you’d stay here while I sleep?”

Eddie doesn’t remember Steve ignoring him in high school for four years.

Steve finds no reason to lie. “No. We weren’t close at all.”

“Right.” Eddie nods once. “So why do this? What are you getting out of this?”

This is a complicated situation to explain to anyone, let alone to someone with fuzzy comprehension abilities. But Steve gives it a whirl:

“Look, we have mutual friends that are… younger. Dustin’s age. And whether I like it or not, they’re like siblings to me now - I’d do anything for them. But they’re in school, they can’t be here every day like I can.”

“Why can you be here?” Eddie asks.

“I lost my job.”

Eddie attempts sympathy. “Sorry.”

Eh, Steve gives him a B-minus.

“Didn’t like it anyways.” Steve reassure him plainly. “The point, I’m doing this for them. For you too, but they’re the anchors in this.”

Eddie thinks for a moment - readjusts to laying on his side, facing Steve. “Won’t you need a new job eventually?”

“Nah. Trust Fund Baby.” Steve points both thumbs at his chest.

“Yeesh.” Eddie rolls to the other side, away from Steve. Disgusted by his comment, yet still chuckling very quietly.

Okay… Eddie does remember he has a sense of humor (just a teensy bit).

His breathing becomes long and hard - sleep heavy breathing. It doesn’t take long, sleep seems more natural to Eddie right now than being awake.

Steve watches him for a moment. There’s always the ghostly-distant fear that Eddie might stop breathing. He’s done it before - four months ago and once more while he was still at the hospital in Hawkins.

Max is still asleep. Steve hates thinking about that detail because it’s cruel. This twisted game that the universe is playing is truly unjust. 

Like an Almighty Asshole rolled Eddie’s stupid dice and decided, ‘I’ll let one of your friends wake up, but he won’t remember that he battled along side you in the trenches of darkness. Take it or leave it, douchebag.’

Steve will take it.

Eddie is still sleeping when Steve decides to head out - the bus will be arriving soon and he’s gotta get a window seat. Needs control over the window cause he gets carsick way too fucking easily these days.

“Heading out?” Eddie mumbles, eyes not even open.

“Yeah - sorry.” Steve doesn’t know why he whispered that. “Didn’t think I should wake you.”

“I gotcha. I’m assuming you’ll be back tomorrow?”

Huh… Steve thinks there might be a hint of implication that Eddie wants him to come back tomorrow. Interesting.

“Your memory isn’t as shitty as you think it is.” He’s overly smug when he says it. 

Eddie gives him a closed-lip smile. Only Dustin and Wayne receive those.

“Want me to pick up some food on my way in?”  Steve decides to give generosity a try, since Eddie is tolerable enough to give him a smile. “Get you off of this lousy hospital meal-plan temporarily?”

The smile is gone. “Nah, you don’t have to do that.”

Right.

Eddie definitely remembers how to be Stubborn with a capital ‘S’

But Steve is a Trust Fund Baby, so he’s unfazed with difficult behaviors. He can match difficulties all damn day if he wanted to.

Which he does.

“Suit yourself, Munson.” Steve acts so uncaring. Very uppity and douchey. “I’m thinking Chinese takeout for me personally.”

“Cool.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow then.”

There’s a pause, so Steve takes that as his sign to turn the handle, get the hell out of here.

“Steve?” Eddie calls weakly just before he shuts the door behind him.

He cracks it open, peeks his face back in. “Yeah?”

Eddie sighs. “Kung Pao Chicken.”

“Excellent choice.”

Eddie gives him another closed-lip smile.

Steve grins wildly, with all of his teeth. “In fact, I think I’ll do the same.”

And as Steve claims his middle seat on the bus, he pulls the binder back out of his backpack to add one more note for the day:

Eddie remembers that he likes Kung Pao Chicken.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #post s4 au #trying to decide if I should make this a thing or not #I’m not even sure if this is any good so please ignore if it is incoherent #my mind is being cruel today so if it’s bad pretend it never happened 🙂

[credince--writes]

I just found your blog and holy shit the size kink fic with König hits different! Your work is so good, I'm glad I stumbled across it!!

I was wondering... Would you be able to do the breeding kink part as a continuation?? Please 🥺 It's totally cool if you're not comfortable with it!!

Ask, and with nearly a month-long wait you shall receive.

Hands (2)

Prompt:

Continuation of the Breeding Kink (mildly) explored in the shower scene of part 1.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - AO3

König x Fem!Reader

Oh, how pitiful.

I mean, look at you.

Look at how you sat there, on that chair in that shitty little office scribbling away at paperwork whiles your eyes came so close to shutting on their own. Drifting off to sleep while you should be working.

Sitting back in your seat and raising your hands to your face, rubbing against your eyes in an attempt to chase away the drowsiness that seemed to be working to glue your eyes shut.

Glancing down, noticing how even your handwriting had started to become sloppier with your drowsiness you decided that yea, sure. You'd accept the defeat against your exhaustion and trudge back to your room.

Setting the pen down, bunching the papers together, and pushing them into a folder to be tucked away for the next morning. Standing from your chair, pushing it in, and turning off the lights to the office you made your way, slowly out into the hallway headed in the direction of your soon-to-be cavern of slumber.

Aka your room with that shitty little cot and the light that made the horrible buzzing sound.

Trying to ignore the few other people buzzing about you couldn't help but try to walk that much quieter as you walked past your boss's door.

There was no way he could see you, the blinds were shut.

Just a few more steps-

The sound of the handle turning and the door sliding open- "Hey! Well, aren't I luck I caught you. Deliver this for me?" Extended in his hand, a folder.

You wanted to tell him to shove it.

You really did.

That awkward, 'i know you're tired but I'm your boss so do what I say' a smile plastered on his face.

You sigh.

Nodding.

Extending your hand out and grabbing the folder, nodding a little bit while he thanks you for glancing down at the paperwork and turning around to begin walking in the new direction to deliver the paperwork.

...

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Come on."

"Just a little bit more."

"Please?"

"I'm talking to a fucking storage room."

"Who makes these fucking cubbies?" You snarled, leg extended with one awkwardly lifted up and pulling yourself up by your left hand, extending outward trying to stuff the folder in the correct receptacle.

"God- fuck!" Your hand slipping, sending you sliding back, your foot going over your head and sending you tumbling to the ground, landing ass first on the cold cement floor.

You groaned, thankful for the fact no one had been there to see your fall.

The sound of the door pushing open, and a male voice calling out. "Hello? Is everything all the right?"

König.

Your face burned. Shameful, bright red.

And you stayed silent, hoping that by not responding he would simply leave.

So you sat, looking like a dumbfounded puppy with a folder of papers scattered to your side, still awkwardly sitting on your ass with the twinge of pain in your rump from your unruly fall.

But the sounds of his boots against the floor coming closer-

"I'm alright!" You squeaked out.

"Oh, Ärztin." You could hear him exhale, shoulders slightly relaxing as he glanced down at the scene before him. "Why did you not responded to my callings a moment ago?"

"Kind of hoping you shut the door and didn't investigate." You sighed out, awkwardly laughing, tilting your head up to look at him. "As you can see I have had a fall."

"A soldier who would not investigate those sounds has no place here." He scolded lightly. "Now, Ärztin, up you go."

Because you could protest, he reached down, large hands grabbing around your waist. The hands engulfed around your midsection as he lifted you as if you weren't as much as a duffle bag to be tossed over his shoulder while he marched through the halls.

"Oh-" You gasped, suddenly being upright and back pressed against his chest. "Thank you, König." You paused for a moment, looking down and realizing his hands were still wrapped around you, holding you by your midsection, and your back was pressed up against his chest.

"Of course, Shatz." You could hear the smile from under his hood- the snarky little tone dancing around in his smug words. "Now why had you fallen?"

"Just, um. Getting this." You motioned to the folder. "Up there." You motioned to the too-tall cubby.

"Ah, leave it to me." He said, releasing your midsection and grabbing the folder, easily lifting his arm and placing it into the cubicle with no problem.

"Gonna have you file the paperwork from now on." You joked.

"Ah, I prefer my work on the field. Thank you though. Good night." He curtly nodded his head and left as quickly as he had arrived. Leaving you puzzled- embarrassed- and lingering on the feeling of his large hands wrapped around your waist.

...

At this point?

It was not innocent anymore.

Your cheeks burned as you laid back in bed. Hand reaching down past the soft expanse of your tummy and pushing through your waistband.

Just thinking of it being him.

König sliding his hands around your body- feeling you. How his hands could envelop all of your arm, the majority of your thigh, how they slid up against your breasts and one hand completely reached around your fragile little neck.

The light squeeze gives the warning to behave.

Pulling you up into his lap, his legs folded at the knee as he leaned back, pulling your back up against his chest just as he had you lifting you off of the ground. Hand wrapping around your neck and the other hand snaking around and diving down.

The single, large digit would dip between your folds and gently tease at your entrance collecting all of the evidence of your excitement, dragging it upwards, and slowly circling your clit.

The sound of his breath, hot and heavy against your ear and neck as his hood would be lifted, just enough for his teeth to graze against the tip of your ear.

Arching your back and releasing a whine, his hand leaving your clit and grabbing hold of your hip. The large hand grabbed hold of the flesh and bone and pulled you back onto him, stilling your movements and proving any resistance against his intentions wouldn't be tolerated.

"Are you going to be good for me, Shatz?" His voice was breathy- husky. Deep as he growled the words into your neck, moving his hand back down to slip a finger into your tight pussy.

"Yes, please. yes, I'll be so good I promise-"

"You sound so sweet." He compliments, before pushing another digit inside of you, hand reaching up and pushing two fingers into your mouth- stretching out to your tongue and pushing down against it holding your mouth open in the process.

You let out a choked moan sound, the heat in your abdomen at the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you- another outstretched and rubbing smooth circles into your clit with he pad of his finger.

You could feel the saliva gathering in your mouth, tongue fighting against his fingers and closing your mouth, sucking on the digits and swirling your tongue around them.

He chuckles, softly but in that deep dark tone that feels as if it's vibrating out of his chest as he removes his fingers from your mouth and leans forward. Attaching his mouth to yours and breaching your mouth with your tongue.

His fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, wet sounds filling the air and mingling with the soft moans of your heated makeout session. Feeling his tongue invading your mouth and pushing up against yours, the feeling of his spit mingling with your own in your mouth.

Pulling your head back, a thick string of saliva bridging off of his tongue into your mouth. Lifting his hand from your pussy he pushed them into your mouth- not even in a gentle manner. Pushing them inside of your mouth and collecting yours and his own spit and pulling them back before pushing three fingers into your cunt.

"a-ah... Ah." You cried out, the feeling of his fingers stretching your pussy open causing a slight burn as he slowly pumped them in and out.

"Doing so good for me. Need to make sure you are ready. Do not want to do the hurting of my sweet little Ärztin, do I?"

You nodded, mindlessly bucking your hips down onto his fingers as he began to pump them in and out with more purpose.

Against your thigh, you could feel it. You were sure of it- his large and hard cock pressed up against you straining against his pants.

Your hand reaches down, trying to grab his waistband but his hand snags your wrist quickly and pins it to your waist.

He tsked, curling his fingers in a way that made little spots of white appear in your vision. Body falling forward as a moan escaped your lips.

"Oh, does that feel good?" He mocks teasingly. She knew that if she could turn around and see his face it would have that snaggle-toothed grin. The evil little glint in his eyes. A monster holding its prey ready to devour.

"Yesss....." You whine out. "I want you, please."

"You do, do you?" He asks, mock innocence as he continues to push and pulls his fingers from inside of you.

"I do. Please König."

You could feel the shuffle of his hand reaching for his waistband, pulling his belt with a metallic clatter and the zrrrt of his zipper. The sound of rustling fabric as his pants were dropped and his boxers pulled down.

He gripped his cock, rubbing the head of it against your thigh and smearing the bead of precum that had accumulated on it. Rubbing the sensitive flesh against the soft skin of your thigh.

His breath shuddered behind you, as he brought his hips back lining his cock up against your cunt and pushing forward slowly.

His hand wrapped around your front, stabilizing you and bringing his finger forward to rub slow circles into your clit as he continued to push his cock into your tight wet hole.

He groaned- in appreciation would be the only explanation as he bucked suddenly, the feeling of his cock raking against your walls sending you into a tailspin.

"Come on soldier, fuck me." You half whined- half ordered.

His hips and breath stuttered before snapping back and forward as one hand held your throat pushing your back to his chest, the other wrapped around your hip and dipping down rubbing against your clit.

"I will, Shatz." he hisses out, pulling himself out completely and thrusting himself back into the base.

The coil in your tummy pulled tight, the sound of your moans becoming higher pitched while his fingers continued their onslaught against your clit.

"You gonna cum? be a good girl and cum on my cock?"

"Yes- yes I'm gonna-"

"Then be a good girl, cum on my cock while I fill you up."

You moaned the feeling of his jacket against the skin on your back, the slight scratch of some kind of velcro on his pants, and the hot feeling of his finger on your clit sending you over the edge. The fluttering walls of your cunt gripped onto his cock as he continued to snap his hips back and forth into your wet pussy, the squelching sound of wet skin and the slapping of his thighs against yours.

He huffed, grunting, then grunting again before removing his hand from your clit and neck. both hands reaching down to your hips, holding you in an iron grip, and pushing his cock as deep as it could as he came inside you.

His body snapped like a rubber band, wrapping around you as his head fell on your shoulder, feeling his chest heaving behind you as he kept his head rested against you and hips pushed as close to yours as he could.

He lifted you, sliding a hand down to your pussy and using two of his large fingers to push his cum back inside of you, fingering your oversensitive pussy in the name of keeping his seed inside of you.

God,

his hands.

You glanced down, staring at your knees and the sound of the bedside lamp making the strange buzzing sound that would keep you up at night if you forgot to turn it off breaking you from your trance.

You sat, ass resting against your calves with your hand dipped down, fingers curling up into your pussy while you dreamed of him splitting you open on his cock. Holding you up by your waist with his big hands.

Two fingers inside of you, what would it feel like if it were his real fingers? The ones you'd inspected so many times. You could imagine the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers-

But his cock?

Oh, that was a mystery you'd remain to dream of.

#König x reader #König x reader smut #Konig x Reader- Hands

[flashbangstars]

Monday Miscommunications N.J.M

Pairing. Jaemin x Female reader 18+ wc: 2021

Summary. I really liked writing the roommate series so I decided to try and write a extended/expand upon the original post. Basically you are Jaemin's roommate and you two and he's insufferable and sexy. brain rot from domestic roommate Jaemin.

Genre. Suggestive, ready and Jaemin get a bit hot and heavy... in a video game chair. fluff/suggestive

Warnings: mentions of violence in a joking manner, suggestive

I went a little haywire with the elipses in this so ignore that.

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

You two were about 7 months deep and you swear you got more confused with him the more time you spent together. Given the fact he lived next door to you all last year, it was confusing that he was the same person who would greet you in the morning.

Things were weirdly coming to a peak as of late, He had been extremely touchy MORE than usual, and was spending way more time in the apartment than he usually would. He now opted for his friends to come over instead of him going to them, and he was now making an effort to introduce you to them when they were over . This afternoon was no different.

Things were weirdly coming to a peak as of late, He had been extremely touchy MORE than usual, and was spending way more time in the apartment than he usually would. He now opted for his friends to come over instead of him going to them, and he was now making an effort to introduce you to them when they were over . This afternoon was no different.

You opened the door to the apartment and dropped the keys into the bowl. Feet dragging, eyes sagging today fucking sucked. You had dropped your phone the screen had shattered and your computer died during a three-hour lecture… 45 minutes in, you needed either alcohol or for someone to take you out of your misery at this point.

Standing in the kitchen you rested your head on the counter and closed your eyes. The cold surface pressed against your forehead and the heating in the apartment lowly humming. You needed to eat something and then pass out.

The door opened and you heard a second set of keys being dropped into the bowl. Lifting your head from the counter and turning, there was Jaemin walking in, kitten sweats and bucket hat in all their glory.

“Hey! Oh!..you look like shit,” he said with that pretty smile and pretty teeth.. bastard.

“Fuck you” you mutter dropping your head back to the counter. You hear his bag drop to the floor and his shoes get kicked off to the side, the Converse with the backs of them folded in because for some reason he doesn’t like to put his shoes on.

His socked feet pad across the wood floor and stop next to you in the kitchen, you watch as his feet inch closer to you and then you feel an arm lay across your back, and then a hand settle on your waist.

“I’m sorry baby, did something happen today?” Jaemin coos in a higher-pitched-up voice. Despite the day being so unbelievably shitty, the only thing you were able to think about was; the multiple bright red flags going off as to what just happened in this right here kitchen.

His hand was burning fucking hot on your side (not really you’re just insane!) and the proximity was something that wasn’t normally common for your dynamic, was he a freak? Yes! But this was a bit much. You didn’t know whether the right thing to do was to now stand up, or to stay in this position because you were tired, and a little coddling never hurt anyone. You decided with the first because you're a grown-ass woman who didn’t need any man and you stood up and blinked a couple of times refusing to turn to face Jaemin.

Now standing though, the closeness of you two was a lot more apparent, his hip was touching yours and his hand stayed behind you. He tilted his head in front of you to catch your eyesight and asked again if you were okay.

“I’m fine today was just a lot, I just need it to be over haha” Did you just verbALLY say HAHA?

Turning around so your butt pressed against the edge of the counter you started rubbing your hands on your face out of exasperation. Missing the movement from your side. Opening your eyes to Jaemin having moved to be standing right in front of you with both hands on the counter behind you.

Oh honey, what is this!?

He stared this time into your eyes and you could feel the slight blush coming up from your neck and you forced yourself to make eye contact with him. “Well if you need anything please let me know, I’m sorry you had such a bad day,” he said in a grossly endearing tone (you thought that shit was hot) and then stood up, patted your hip, and walked to his room. He is so mistaken if he thinks you won’t get on your knees in this damn kitchen! Jesus Christ DECORum!

Now you weren’t even upset about your day, you were upset about whatever the fuck that was. Jaemin and you had known each other for 2 years now and you had never gotten the vibe he wanted to fuck you? But this now domesticity and nurturing agenda he had was fucking with your head and your vagina. Who just casually acts like that? OUT OF NO WHERE?? You stood in the kitchen, and then consequently decided to not stand on business. Marching your way down the hallway to Jaemin’s room Opening the door, Jaemin was sat at his Gamer ass desk set up. Upon hearing you enter the chair swiveled around, and Jaemin smiled widely seeing you.

“Hi sweetheart, what do you need?” He asked uncrossing his legs. Sweetheart?!?? You walked closer and stood crossing your arms “Can you explain what happened in the kitchen just now?” You huffed leaning in and pushing your index finger into his chest disapprovingly. His eyes searched yours and then morphed into a devious look. Before you could lean back both of his arms shot out, grabbing your waist. Spinning you and placing you back down in his lap. HUHHHHH???

“I was just making sure you were okay! It makes me feel terrible when you look so upset. If you want something to do, I’m setting up my online calendar and you can just sit here and look pretty while I do so!” he said in a sweet but fast voice, not letting you get a single word in, He spun the chair again and pushed you both into the desk.

You felt the redness creeping up your neck, and your face was burning hot. I think… I think he’s going insane… that is the only answer to this. Using your brute woman strength, you put your arms out and pushed both away from the desk.

Not yet leaving his lap due to the one arm swung around your waist (and also like it was comfy, sue me!). You angle your head and slowly turn to face him.

“Did you hit your fucking head or something, cause what the fuck is this?” you say grabbing his wrist off your waist. You say a little bit more annoyed this time. Jaemin’s demeanor faltered for a split second, his eyebrows falling into a pout for a millisecond, but returning to the very toothy smile Inching closer to your face “Well a little birdie told me that you had been talking about your hot roommate, and how never would think he would go after someone like you” Jaemin taunted a bit, his voice lilting towards the end of the sentence in a faux pout.

Suddenly like That’s So Raven it all hit you, the conversation you had with Jisung on the bus about your little crush on Jaemin was replaying on loudspeakers in the theater of your mind. You had mentioned how you found Jaemin very attractive but could never see him going for someone like you due to his track record.

Determined to not lose to Jaemin in whatever battle of strength this was, you relaxed a bit “Oh well now I have to kill Jisung I guess” you said keeping eye contact with Jaemin. Despite your efforts to come out victorious, folding immediately as a hand comes up and brushes your hair behind your ear making you tense up again.

“And you didn’t even try to deny it,” he said with a smug look. …. Well damn.

“ Wish you would’ve said something, do you know how hard it is to live with someone like you? Smart, Pretty, determined to be oblivious to every single move I try to make” Now you two were an inch away from each other's face

“I…am not… oblivious,” you say your voice raised a bit above a whisper in protest of his claims on your character. Your hands were probably shaking now, and in any minute You think you were going to explode probably if this continued for I don’t know, maybe 5 seconds more.

“Yes, you are. You know people ask if we are dating? Jeno and Jisung have been making fun of me because no matter how hard I’ve tried to get you to notice, you just don’t, But now I get home and treat you extra nice, and all of sudden you are sitting in my lap so what am I suppose to think?” Jaemin said lowly his voice rasping from beside you, but to you, it sounded like he was screaming straight into your clit. Your awareness of your position in his lap feels like a bucket of ice water.

Staring at him you tried to collect your thoughts as to what would be your next move. On one hand, you could engage with the enemy and follow through with the sinful acts he is proposing. Or you could stand up and walk away and laugh about this whole thing tomorrow!

But like… what fun would that be?

Mustering up the strength, you relaxed a bit into his hold and let your weight rest against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice,” you said shrugging. Jaemin tightened his hold once he felt you relax and his fingers were now pressing into the soft flesh of your side, slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt.

“It's alright, I think we both are on the same page now, am I right princess?” Tilting his head so now you two were dangerously close to each other. Leaning in extending his eye contact to almost asking for permission, you nodded.

Jaemin pressed his lips against yours softly and his grip around you tightened even more, one of his hands moving up to tilt your chin to give him more access, parting your lips and deepening the kiss, silently thanking god you had had a piece of gum in before you got home. Your hands go up to press against his chest. His hand on your side moved up and now creeping along the hem of your bra, teasing the strap your t-shirt now shoved above your bra.

He got more intense with his movements, and you felt the arm of his desk chair pressing into the middle of your back reminding you of the situation you were in. Pushing against his chest and separating you two from each other before he succeeded in devouring you.

“It is 3 pm…. On a Monday… hold on” you said between breaths. “And…?” He asked with his annoying pretty smile.

“I need a second…” Staring blankly at you as if expecting something Jaemin didn’t move “I like you…I promise..I just need to go uh… send Jisung a death threat and maybe a thank you card and go and scream into my pillow, then we can continue this..on the bed.. hopefully,” you promise nodding your head surely at the end of your sentence.

Standing up and straightening out your pants… and… pulling your shirt back down over your boobs. You bowed a bit and left his room. WHY DID YOU BOW? You heard a soft laugh come from the same video game chair you had just been almost fucked on and didn’t dare to turn around again. Going straight down the hallway to your room.

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

Thank you for reading! if you guys are interested in more of these from the roommate series pls let me know!

#nct #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct suggestive #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream suggestive #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #jaemin fic #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin suggestive #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin fanfic #jaemin #na jaemin

[melminli]

Devil's Advocate

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quite amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 2k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part II

"What a fucking nightmare." You muttered to yourself in annoyance as you got out of the car that had driven you up the hill. You slammed the door behind you and didn't bother to look back as the car drove away, your eyes glued to the huge hotel in front of you. You looked grimly at the building for a short while until you finally decided to walk to the door. "Someone's going to get fucked if he's not in this shitty hotel, I swear to God."

Your hand was about to knock on the door when, to your surprise, it was suddenly yanked open. You hadn't even had a chance to touch the wood with your knuckles. "A new guest! Hello! So nice to meet you. My name is Charlie!" Shouted an enthusiastic voice with stars in her eyes as she excitedly grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. She didn't even give you a chance to give her a reaction. "Vaggie! Look! Look, I told you I had a good feeling today! And that good feeling is actually here!"

Her girlfriend looked at your figure with puckered eyes. Vaggie looked at your most prominent features one by one. Cat-like, four eyes, and a fifties style...oh no. "Charlie? I think that - " she began, slightly worried, but didn't get to finish her sentence.

"I'm just here for a visit." You quickly announced before things could get any more difficult and saw the princess's happy mood drop at your words as she let go of your hand at the same time. "I apologize if I gave the wrong impression but you don't happen to have a pussy working around here?" You asked with interest, looking around the room as your eyes landed on a bar. Well, this couldn't have been made easier for you. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you only spotted a spider-like figure on one of the chairs.

"Well, only if ya talking about our good-looking Husky." He said with a big grin on his face and pointed behind him. You could then hear a deep voice swearing. Still, he didn't give himself away, and you sighed at his childish behavior as you stepped closer to the bar. "There's no reason for you to hide anymore. You've already been exposed." You said as you narrowed your eyes at the empty space until he finally appeared. "Fuck you, Angel..." he grunted out.

"Why don't ya do it for me ~ "

You all ignored his flirting. Charlie, out of her own curiosity, decided to move closer to the scene as well. After all, it could still be the case that you would eventually decide to give the hotel a shot. She didn't want to completely rule out this possibility, even if it was a small one. "Oh, so you're here to see Husker?" She asked you, finally seeing the resemblance between the two of you. Well, you both had a cat-like appearance, after all. "Oh! Are you two siblings?"

You laughed. "No. At this point, I'm even doubting whether I'm even friends with this fucker." You answered her when your mood turned sour and you hit the table angrily with both your fists. "Where the hell have you been! I've been looking all over the place to find your ass!" You yelled out, causing the others to flinch slightly at your tone.

"...look, it's a bit difficult to explain. I didn't think about telling you where I am because - " he tried to explain himself when you interrupted him.

You waved your right hand in the air, uninterested. "Yeah, I don't give a damn where you are. I'm not your mother." You said and then crossed your arms. "What I do care about is when your stupid little friend kills my employees to steal my fucking money." You said as your eyes darkened. "And you know how I feel about my money."

Oh, fuck me.

Before the conversation between you could continue, you were interrupted by another voice that wasn't afraid to intrude on the conversation. "Oh my, do we have a problem here?" He asked with a broad smile as he appeared out of nowhere.

Charlie looked at the scene a little nervously. Why am I starting to get a bad feeling? She was briefly interrupted by her worries as Vaggie leaned closer to her so she could whisper something to her ear. "I couldn't tell you before, but that woman over there is the person who owns the banks in hell. Like, all of them. I only heard of her until now." She murmured to her. "As you can guess, she's somewhat of a big deal...they call her She-Devil."

Well, I suppose that's why. The Princess of Hell looked between your irritated figure and Alastor while sweating a little. Two powerful demons in one room couldn't be a good sign, not in this hotel. She tried to calm down and stay positive. Maybe nothing will happen? Maybe they will become friends.

You blinked a few times before looking up and down at the unknown figure to take in his appearance. Then you turned to Husker and pointed your thumb at the guy. "Who the hell is this smiley freak. Do you know him?" You asked, annoyed, and even though you lowered your volume a little, everyone in the room could still hear you clearly enough. Well, it wasn't like you were trying to be subtle or anything, you didn't really care if they heard. "Hey Knuckles, is that your hair or your ears? I can't quite make it out." You laughed as your tail swung comfortably behind you.

Oh no. Everyone in the room looked a little worried at your figure, not really daring to say a word, let alone laugh along.

Alastor's smile looked a little strained as he turned his head robotically to the side. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Alastor. Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. Quite the pleasure." He said, holding his hand out in front of him, and you shook it without a care in the world. Now that you had heard his name, it sounded familiar. "Alastor...aren't you that Radio Devil?"

His eye twitched slightly. "Radio Demon, to be exact."

Oh.

A slight smile graced your face. "Didn't know you were back in town. Does that mean you're coming back to the radio business? 'Cause I hate that podcast of the 2D face and could use some good entertainment." You asked him and saw Husker give you an annoyed look. He's trying to tell me something, but what is it...

You thought for a few seconds and looked back at Alastor until you finally realized it. You looked back and forth between the two of them, and Husker raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, you finally got it?

Oh.That Alastor.

After your comment, the Radio Demon seemed to be in a better mood. "Oh, thank you, my dear. You got quite a good taste there, which is getting harder and harder to find these days." He replied with his familiar smile. "But to get back to your question, I guess I have to say...I'm not called the Radio Demon for nothing."

Of course not. "Good." You say and turn back to the bartender. "Now, where were we? Oh right, I was about to fuck you up." You announced and were about to climb over the bar to let your fists do the talking, only to be stopped by the many arms of the spider next to you. "Whoa, calm down Kitty Kat! As much as I'd love to see the pussy fight between ya two, why don't we hear the man out first, huh?"

You groaned. These people wouldn't let you do your job. "Because we're in hell? And nobody gives a shit?" You rub your forehead, exhausted. "But whatever, talk then."

Husker's head slowly looked up from behind the counter. "...remember how I said that Larry is a very good friend of mine who you can trust completely and that you can therefore give him a job in your company without worrying?" He said carefully before continuing. "Yeah, I lied about that. I lost to him in a game a long time ago, and I owed him a favor."

You looked around the room. "Did you hear that? Are you happy now? I just wanted to punch him in the face and call him stupid names to get it out of my system, but now I'm not only angry but also disappointed...he doesn't even bother to apologize." You said and sat down. You interrupted him before he could say a word. "Just make me a drink since it's the only thing you're good at."

This could have ended worse. Charlie took a step towards you so she could stand next to you. "Well, now that you're here, I can tell you about the concept of our hotel! I'm sure you won't want to leave once you've heard it." She announced cheerfully, unable to read the room at all. She was also just pretty desperate to get more people into this hotel and had a hard time dealing with the fact that the only one who she got in wanted to leave again.

Her girlfriend was about to tell her that maybe this was a bad time to bring it up, but surprisingly, you didn't mind talking about it. "Oh, you don't need to. I've already heard a few things." You began giving the girl hope as you didn't have that demeaning undertone that other people usually had. "You're planning to rehabilitate sinners here, no?"

"Yes! Do you want to give it a shot?"

You shook your head. "Not really." You replied, unknowingly shattering her dreams. Your hand reached for your drink as you turned to the spider next to you. "And the last time I checked, they don't let gay people in there, darling."

Angel Dust rolled his eyes. "Well, ain't that good fucking news. Does that mean I can stop being clean? 'Cause I don't wanna to stop sucking dick." He said and acted dramatically. Tears came up and were about to run down his cheeks when a single beam of light shone on him as he leaned on a chair with his chest. "Ya guys know I love sucking dick."

Panicked, Charlie waved her hands aggressively in the air. "No, of course not! There are gay people in heaven!" She shouted out until she realized she wasn't so sure about that. She needed to do more research on the rules up there. She turned to her girlfriend, looking to her for support. "Isn't that right, Vaggie? There are gay people in heaven?"

She assured everyone in the room. "Of course, there are gay people in heaven."

"Okay, good," Charlie pronounced as she let out a relieved breath with one hand on her chest. She then happily turned back to Angel Dust. "So, you can continue to stay clean then, Angel."

He had a bit of a disappointed look on his face while he sluggishly held his arm in the air to celebrate. "Yay, woo..."

#x female y/n #x female reader #x reader #x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #vivziepop #hazbin hotel husk #fanfiction #funny shit #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[noroi1000]

Nah i just saw the first episode of jjk season 2, then stumbled upon your cat imagine of gojo and geto as well and omg i LOVE IT <3

It git me thinking and if you have time to write, just imagine this:

Geto x reader, where he likes the reader and low-key flirts with her, but she is kinda ignoring it??? And he's just really trying his best to get her to notice him in a more romantic way, but bc of Gojos constant flirty nature (he knows of getos crush and likes to make him jealous, he finds it hilarious how getos face scrunches up like he has diarrhea) she just assumes that Geto is like that as well and that he is just teasing her (HE IS NOT).

So one day geto and gojo had to go on a mission and for some reason gojo was hit by a curse, causing him so morph into a smug little shitty cat, still very self-aware.

So geto trudges back to school (gojo on his shoulder bc he refused to walk even a centimeter and just obnoxiously clawed himself into getos pants and so geto put him on his shoulder), and the reader sees them and runs up to greet geto and ask about the mission and gojos whereabouts, when she sees this cute ass cat perched on his shoulder and picks him up and smootches all over his dumb little face (i mean omg a cute cat, and we all know gojo would be the cutest cat ever) , leaving pink glossy lipstick marks all over his white fur.

She holds him up like simba before turning him around and holding him to her chest, giving one last kiss between his ears, and that little asshole just looks at geto with the smuggest look a cat could have while snuggling backwards in between her boobs 💀.

Geto just looses it and grabs gojo by the nape and throws him away cuz bro??? That's my girl??? And he explains to reader what happened and then at the end confesses when she asks about his anger at gojo and it's just fluffy and they kiss and everything... <3

PS: Shoko and Gojo are now wheeling along, and they hate it. Like?? Stop cuddle-napping underneath the trees like a cute couple??

PSS: At night, Gojo regrets ever being born. Those..... noises from his best buddy's room just won't stop.. please someone help his poor soul, God knows he needs his beauty sleep.

~♡

This is my girl, f*cking cat!!

Summary: For months, Geto has wanted to tell you that he loves you. To show you that he cares about you. But there was always Gojo trying to piss him off, and he made you believe that they both liked playing flirty jokes on you. If Gojo was smaller, Geto would gladly throw him away to be left alone with you. And suddenly he turned into a cat. He is smaller. So...

Warnings: Mentions of sex at the end

"You changed your uniform skirt, right? You look lovely in this."

You turned to look at the dark-haired man in the bun who was sitting in a chair at his table in the classroom. Your eyes met his purple ones. There was a soft and kind smile on his lips that made you smile too.

You don't want to have a winter uniform in the summer. You will sweat more than you will walk or run. Even the amount of exercise you do won't matter if you wear winter clothes in the summer!

"Thanks, Suguru-kun." you gave him a small grateful smile for that little compliment.

"(y/n)." He called out as you moved forward to sit in your seat which was behind Gojo's.

You turned to look at him.

He saw how your eyes looked at him curiously. You waited for him to contact you.

Maybe this is finally the moment when he will be able to ask you out on a date and Satoru won't bother him?

It got boring and very irritating when every time he started being next to you, his friend had to interrupt him. He knew exactly that he liked you. And that's why he kept coming out of nowhere and interrupting his time alone with you.

It wasn't because Satoru was jealous of him having you. He just liked seeing his friend get angry at his innocent jokes. Or when he was jealous.

They all knew it when Gojo Satoru comes up to you and makes very flirty jokes.

Flirting with you to see the big grimace on the dark-haired man's face. Because he knew exactly that the white-haired man was doing it on purpose.

And that made you think that they both have very flirtatious personalities and like such jokes. That's why you never took his compliments very seriously. Which were actually sincere. And it's all the fault of a white man named Gojo Satoru who showed you everything that made you think that they, as best friends, joke about such things..

But that wasn't true! Suguru likes you. All compliments and invitations are sincere.

But...

Whenever he wants to show you this sincerity, Satoru shows up and always ruins everything!

He has terrible timing as always!

It appears out of nowhere and steals your attention! All to piss him off!

Because he loved seeing the jealousy of his usually more serious friend at school!

Of course, Gojo wished him the best. Love in life and happiness.

But the sight of his face when you look at him as he holds his hands on you or makes you smile is just priceless. As if he was about to jump on him and bite his throat out.

You could never choose between them because you like them both. They are both your friends. But you take Satoru's advances less seriously, as I'm sure he likes closeness, but it's playful.

Besides, you see how Suguru reacts. And you also see Satoru looking at him as if victorious as he wins a friendly hug from you.

You don't know if they have a profession in getting your attention or what... But given their nature, you can't take their flirting seriously, right?

"Would you like to go out this evening?" The dark-haired man asked as he got up from his chair and stood in front of you.

You looked up at his nice looking face.

"...Cinema? Shoko wanted to see one movie you can watch today!" you said.

"No, I rather meant something else..." his eyes briefly turned to the door, searching for the white danger.

It's a bit difficult to date a girl you like... He was a little nervous and excited that he could finally ask you out and confess his feelings!

"Something else? "Suguru?"

"I wanted us to go. Together. The two of us. Just us–" as he began to explain slightly nervously, the door opened.

"I heard something about cinema! (y/n)-chan, you like movies, right? We go? Shoko wanted to watch a horror movie, if you get scared, don't worry, you can catch me!” Satoru said loudly and placed his hand on your head, pulling you slightly towards him.

When you looked at his hand on your head, they looked into each other's eyes.

And when their pupils connected, it meant war.

A pleased, playful smile with a twinkle in his eye. And on the other side, an angry, irritated, jealous grimace.

The dark-haired man's hand reached for yours and he pulled you towards him.

"I can be the one to let her hold my hand when I'm scared!" He said firmly.

Your cheeks warmed slightly as his right hand pressed your head against his chest as he spoke to his friend.

"Oh yes? She has two strong and quite handsome friends who can protect her from the monsters on the screen. Maybe she will choose the one she wants?"

"Satoru you little–"

"Suguru..." You said, slightly pushing yourself away from his warm chest.

His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red.

He let go of you quickly, and you didn't expect this reaction.

You were more thinking that he would push you away from him and smile because you were slightly shy.

Because they both liked to flirt with you for fun, right?

You saw the vein on Geto's forehead throb as his hand reached for Gojo's collar as he glared at him with murderous eyes.

You were more or less: what's going on here now?

Your views were shared by the second person who entered here.

Yaga, seeing this farce with an angry Geto and a laughing Gojo, also got angry and had to separate the two by force.

Even though it was Geto who wanted to kill him this time and Gojo just stood there.

If only he were smaller, he would gladly throw him far. So that he can be alone with you for at least an hour!

"Enough of that! I don't know what you're talking about again! It's time to calm down or you'll get extra duties!" Their teacher shouted, pulling the dark-haired boy away from Gojo, who was sticking out his tongue at him.

And then the older man looked at you.

Exactly... He didn't know what it was about. About the same as always...

Why does everyone know that Geto has real feelings for you, but you only think that he has a funny flirty nature just like Gojo?? Everyone knows Geto loves you! Only you think this is for fun!

"For what you're doing here again, I have a mission for you!" He pushed them away.

You placed a hand on Suguru's shoulder, checking if he was okay after the chokehold your teacher gave them.

Suguru was closer to you than Satoru.

"... Why, even if it's him, do I have to get punished like him?!" Gojo screamed even though he knew it was his fault.

"Because for what you do, you deserve something like this..." the teacher muttered.

"Huh?" he groaned when he couldn't hear.

He wasn't supposed to hear it.

"You are in this together! Just as guilty! You're leaving soon! I don't want to see you in the dorms until 5pm!"

If only Gojo were smaller, he would throw him so far that he would be calm for at least an hour...

Their dream came true.

It was supposed to be a short mission. You were waiting for them on a bench near the courtyard between the buildings. The trees allowed you to avoid the sun, and the slight breeze made it pleasant to wait for them.

When you saw a figure walking on the sidewalk between the trees, you smiled.

And when the trees showed you your dark-haired friend, you saw that Gojo was not there. Have they argued again?

You saw a cat standing on his shoulder!

You couldn't help but notice it because it was a white cat sitting on a dark uniform and leaning against Suguru's black hair!

You stood up and walked over to him, smiling when you saw him.

"Suguru! How was the mission? Where did you get this adorable cat?" she asked quickly and you reached out your hands to the white furball on his shoulder.

"You don't want to know what happened there. (y/n) this is–." before he could say, he saw you pet his head, smiling as you felt the very soft fur.

"Where's Satoru?" you asked before you picked up the rather heavy and large cat in your arms, hugging it.

Geto didn't speak and looked with a grimace at the smug, shit-eating smile of the cat that was sitting politely in your arms.

As soon as he heard you asking about Satoru, he remembered that the cat with the stupid smile was his friend. He wasn't sharpened enough and the curse turned him into a cat... The fucking furry didn't even want to walk on his own! Such a cheeky, lazy and self-satisfied cat!

And he smiled because now he will have to be with him all the time because they don't know when he will be human again! And because of this, he can't confess his feelings to you again!

Gojo Satoru, the stupid but sweet cat!

And also, he knew you would be pleased with his soft fur! And he had the plan from the very beginning to be that soft, sweet kitten who likes you very much!

"Suguru?" you called out when he didn't answer.

His eyes turned to you as you lifted the cat like Simba into the air, showing him its pink and extremely clean paws.

"Can we keep him? Does he have an owner?" You looked at him with puppy dog ​​eyes.

You brought the fluffy animal to your chest, placing a kiss on its snow-white fur. The slight pink from your lips lingered there.

Purple eyes turned to your lips which were shiny thanks to the pink lip gloss you were wearing.

He wanted to kiss you...

"What's wrong, Suguru?" you asked, slightly worried that he was so quiet.

Holding the cat with its back to your chest, you moved closer.

The white cat purred in your arms. And when he looked at him, he saw the most contented look Gojo could have as a cat as his head moved, cuddling against your breasts.

A vein on the dark-haired man's forehead popped out and he reached for the cat, grabbing it by its fur.

He glared at him.

And his dream came true. If Gojo were smaller, he would love to throw him far enough that he would have time for both of you.

"This is my girl, fucking cat!" He thought and showed it to him with his eyes before swinging and throwing the cat into the sky and into the forest.

The only thing left of the white cat is the long meowing sound it made while flying in the sky.

"Suguru!" You screamed, terrified and surprised by his behavior. "It's just a cat! Why did you do that?!"

You tightened your grip on his jacket, unable to understand why he threw the cat like that.

"This cat is Satoru! Some fucking curse has hit him and he's going to be a cat for a while!" He said, somehow calming you down.

"But why did you throw him so hard? And why... If it was Satoru, then–." He crossed his arms over your chest, remembering how the cat cuddled against your breasts. Your face is hot.

"I don't want him to bother me again."

"In what?"

"Listen... For so long, I've wanted to show you something... Say something. But that fucking idiot was always in the way! He made you think what I was saying was just flirting jokes!

"So you don't..."

"No! Absolutely not! I would never joke about something like that! I like you! I like you very much!" he said and turned his head slightly with a little embarrassment.

Did you see that Geto Suguru blush a little?

"You'll be my girlfriend...?"

You looked into his hopeful eyes.

Well... He's just a teenager, just like you...

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you hugged him.

"...Yes...Suguru..." you replied, holding onto him tightly.

A smile appeared on his face that he never thought he would have. Very pleased but also gentle.

"(y/n)." he exclaimed and lifted your chin to look at him.

He leaned down to reach your lips. And he placed his lips on yours, pulling you into the kiss you both wanted.

You didn't pay attention to the cat that was sitting next to the tree with a dissatisfied face.

Ps. Karma comes back. Especially to someone who interferes with love.

A few months after he was a cat, he began to regret being alive at all.

He experienced sleepless nights because he couldn't close his eyes all night long.

Instead of silence, he only heard the bed in the next room hitting the wall or creaking. And your cracking voice and all the moans that came out.

For all the torment Suguru had to go through because of him, he didn't even bother to keep a secret. That's why he wanted you to moan as loudly as possible so that Gojo couldn't sleep.

During classes, when Suguru is glowing after a nice night, you are tired but smiling, Gojo is simply worn out by lack of sleep and starts sleeping during classes.

Just to get punishment for it from your teacher.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #geto suguru #geto jjk #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

[aesthetic-bbyg]

might I request 🫣

an Usopp x ditsy y/n where the reader is.. 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑚, busty, to say the least, and always clings to him (sort of like how Nami does), albeit unaware that the behavior seems to always fluster him

And maybe they end up paired together when everyone splits up to fight someone or whatever, and Uso pulls them aside to hide, obviously, but in a bit of tight spot?

you can edit this however you like, thank you for reading!!

A DAMSAL IN DISTRESS - USOPP

usopp x ditzy,fem!reader

IN WHICH you can’t help but cling onto Usopp, he’s just so cute.

nattie speaks!: AHHHHH I’m so sorry for the wait, I felt so bad that this took way longer then expected so some parts were a bit rushed and a bit shitty🫣🫣. Also, I gave the reader this power, basically like a banshee, she screams and it’s a weapon. It’s only included in a small portion bc I wanted to stay close to what the anon requested!!

USOPP WASNT SURE IF HIS BAD habit of lying constantly was currently a blessing or a curse. You took interest in him after he’d rambled on about escaping the large beast of the sea, the Kraken. Since then you’ve been—he didn’t want to be rude and say obsessive, so..clingy. He’d somehow managed to capture you’re attention with his false stories. You nodded dumbly with big eyes as he dramatized yet another tale, waving his hands around like a maniac while you just giggled.

“Uh-huh, what after?” You leaned closer across the table curiously, your cheek falling to rest on the palm of your hand.

“Then, I took my sword and I sliced his ass from head to toe.” Usopp smirked triumphantly, sucking in a deep breath and releasing as he fell back against the chair. “And that’s the story of how I defeated the monster of the Blue Lagoon.”

“No way!” You gasped, eyes wide with such content, completely unaware of how close your tits were to spilling out of your top. Truth be told, Usopp had dragged out the story as long as possible to see the moment a nipple peaked out. He swallowed before he chuckled, eyes flickering between your bright smile and bouncing breast. “You’re so brave, Uso.” You stood from your seat, walking over to give him a peck on the cheek. “How ‘bout I go get food for my brave Captain, hmm?”

Usopp never nodded his head so quick, both out of being very hungry and because he needed a breather. You had made him so ridiculously flustered, he nearly forgotten to take in air with how close you were. The moment you footsteps faded to enter the kitchen he let out a large sigh. His senses struggling to regulate, all he could think about was you. The sticky gloss that clung to his skin, the sweet scent you left behind, the echo of your giggles in his mind.

He needed to get a grip before he literally exploded. The next few days to Arlong Park would be hell if he couldn’t learn to control himself when around you. But he just couldn’t figure out how it was possible to do that when you pranced around in such low cut shirts and tight bottoms. He didn’t have much time to think about it before you were back, holding two servings of food. You placed it on the large crate that laid between the two of you.

“What did Sanji make?” Usopp questioned, mustering up to the most normal smile he could give.

“Some sort of pasta, dunno, wasn’t really attention.” You shrugged casually, handing him a shimmering silver fork. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you went unaware of the stolen glances Usopp took of you. He paid far too much attention to your features, especially your most prominent one..but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

You were close to opening your mouth and breaking the silence before Zoro came up, plopping a whiny Buggy between your plates.

“Usopps turn, I’m done.” The swordsman muttered annoyingly, walking away without another word.

“Hey—what!” Usopp shouted back to Zoro, his calls being ignored as the the blue-haired clown chuckled.

“Hiya, pal, nice to see you!” The clown exclaimed with an overly happy tone. “Tell me, have, have you boned pretty babe over here or wh—“

Usopp clamped his hand over the clown mouth, embarrassingly looking over at you, your eyes held an innocent confusion as you stood. “I’ll go ahead and take these to the kitchen, be back!”

Usopp nodded with a smile, waiting for you to be out of ear shot before uncovering Buggy’s mouth. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Shut up.” Usopp mumbled with a flushed face, hiding it by fiddling with his slingshot.

“Oh, c’mon, she’s totally into you and it super fuckin’ obvious in case you couldn’t already see.” The clown commented, “And, hey, I’m not one to give relationship in advice here but you should bone her—“

“Can you stop saying that.” The man snapped quietly as he noticed you approaching. You didn’t sit down, instead placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

“It’s getting dark, Uso, ya wanna head in?” You asked softly, eyes glowing curiously in the moonlight. You shared a space with Nami, but ever since she left you’d didn’t liked sleeping in that empty bed. Instead, you slept next to Usopp every night.

It came as a surprise at first. The midnight sky had caused a dark hue to blanket over the ship. The moon hidden behind indigo clouds, only a few strings of light guided you down to the boy’s chambers. You’d pushed Usopps door open, thankful that it didn’t creak loudly, and slowly entered. You footsteps patting against the hardwood floor, hands out in front of you to navigate the darkness until you felt a soft cushion. You peeled back the blanket and climbed in, without a care in the world except for finding some warmth.

Usopp had felt the bed shift, covers shuffling without him moving which is what caused him to fully awake. He panicked at first, not moving an inch as the person beside him got comfortable. It was until he felt you soft hands caress up his bicep, bare legs entangling with his own, then a sweet sigh that tickled his neck. After a few moments he heard nothing, just your deep breaths as he laid there, completely clueless on what to do. Should he hold you? But that would wake you again wouldn’t it? He chose to go to sleep and see what the next morning held.

And if Usopp wasn’t flustered enough already the next day he was practically dead. Your position had switched in the middle of the night, and so did his. Ass against his hips, his arm draped over your waist, and you back against his firm chest. He wasn’t sure how you two needed in this position but every morning now was like this.

Usopp determined that the best way to continue this routine was if Buggy’s head was shoved into a empty barrel and left there for the night.

“You better bone her if your leaving here—“ The clown angrily shouted before his voice was muffled by the lid sliding over the open top. Usopp let out a sigh, walking over to the sleeping quarters below deck where you’d already gone to get changed for bed.

Your head quirked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, smiling softly at the sight of him. “We’re nearly there, Uso. It’s best that you get some sleep for the rest of the journey.”

Usopp nodded in agreement, removing his shirt like he always did before bed and climbing into the covers. You shouldn’t be so excited as you are each time you cuddle close to him. It shouldn’t be so rewarded to feel him so close to you as you drift to sleep. Usopp was suppose to be your fellow crew member and nothing more. Yet there was an undeniable feeling that made you cling to him. It made you giddy.

Unbeknownst to you, these feelings struck Usopp tenfold.

“LAND HO!” USOPP EXCLAIMED, ARM raising to point to a spec of land from afar. You lifted your head, squinting to see the bundled up islands from you spot. As you got closer it looked like nothing almost, and when the boat docked it was even worse. The small village looked abandoned, old homes falling apart and grey in color. Most of the plants around were dead, drained of their natural color. One home was even raised above the grown, ripped from the floor and left to rot mid air.

This is when things started to blur together. One moment, you watch in fear, clinging onto Usopps arms. He’s a brave warrior, you thought, surely he’d protect you against the strange atmosphere that this place brought. But the next you were sprinting into the woods, just behind Usopp as a fish man with strangely large lips chased after you.

It was a fight you had no idea on how to win. They were fishman, some of the strongest beings of the world, and here you were running away from one. Even worse, the fish with the huge lips was able to spit out fire with just a sip of his hard drink. There was more than enough evidence to prove that you were screwed.

The boy in front of you turned around, quickly tugging your arm and pulling close, ducked down, rolling to hide behind a fallen tree. You fell atop of Usopp, panting heavily as fishman’s spits barley flew over your head. All went quiet, weirdly quiet but you didn’t dare even blink loudly.

“Hey.” Usopp whispered as you lifted your head from his chest. “Ya think you can scream for me, pretty girl?” You swallowed thickly, nodding, the pure terror of the approaching footsteps muting your voice. “Then wait for my signal, ‘kay.”

Usopp shuffled from under, making it more comfortable for the both, well, mostly you. Being within such a close proximity of your soft skin made him nervous, no amount of comfort was able to calm his nerves. But he ignored the squeezable skin that pressed against his chest, ignored that your core that was hovering just above his dick, ignored the grip on his bicep. He looked at you, waiting for the right moment to give you the sign so the fishman went down once and for all.

You were terrified, that was for sure, but you mustered up some courage to pull the plan off. You felt a tap on your hand, causing to rise up and stare directly at the fishman. But before he could open fire you let out a ear piercing shriek. A wail so loud it launched the fish man backwards. Far enough so he was too distracted in getting up and gaining back his senses to realize that Usopp was sneaking in.

You watched, wide eyed as the fishman sat up, bottle still tightly in his clutch. Usopp loaded in his new invention into his slingshot and directly hit the alcohol. A loud explosion followed, smoke clearing to reveal a motionless fishman.

You laughed in a relief, standing up and slowly approaching the scene.

Usopp shouts in excitement, proudly chuckling at the sight of the smoking body laid motionless on the ground. “Yeah! Take that! The Great Captain Usopp fells yet another notorious villain!” He swallows back his heavy breaths, glancing around. “And..no one’s around to see it.”

“I saw it, Uso!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him with a giggle. The sheer force of your excitement gave you enough strength to drag him down into your chest. His whole face making contact with your tits while you rambled in content. “Just as brave as you tell in your stories! Gosh, I can’t wait tell everyone how you saved me.” You pull his head up, planting kisses along his cheeks.

The boy puffed his chest out pridefully, smirking despite the blush that littered his cheeks. “What can I say, a great Captain like me never fails to save a damsel in distress.” He hooked an arm around your waist, gazing down at you.

“A reward is much needed after this.” You Pat his chest, smiling softly with such a innocent yet antagonizing look. Without another word, you’d pulled away, waking back in the direction Arlong park.

Usopp stared at your fading figure with furrowed brows. “A reward?”

OMG THIS TOOK WAY TO LONG BUT I WAS LITERALLY GOING BACK ND FORTH W THIS FIC BC I FELT LIKE IT WAS SOO BAD. But I need to release smth so this is it!! I really hoped this lived up to the request, ik i added some of my own elements but ignore that🫣

(sucks dick coquettely)

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #straw hats #usopp x reader #usopp #jacob romero gibson #Jacob Romero #agent 00 lookin ahh #but he’s so fiiiine #i’m actually losing it #I need him #he needs me #HIS BICEPS BRO #LIKE I WANT TO LICK THEM #UGHHH #send help #one piece imagine #captain usopp

[queenofallimagines]

Can you do Blue Lock Sae x female reader x Rin? The brothers are fighting for her love.

A/N: I SURE THE FUCK CAN!! The itoshi effect is hating them both and then post backstory explanation coming to like them both a lot😔

TAGLIST: @priv-rose

Sae & Rin itoshi:

- okay so boom

- Had another OC though of being like a counselor at blue lock bc none of them boys is right in the head😭

- You have previous connections to Sae bc you were a counselor for another team he was on and his manager liked you so he would schedule private sessions

- Ended up in you leaving bc he’s so frustrating but alas fate has other plans

- You show up to the U-20 match bc DUH

- Anri doesn’t have any money to hire a manager also so you’re taking over that role

- Sorry😔

- Anyway rin comes to respect you for dragging him by his eyelashes about his trauma

- “So are we gunna start with hating yourself and thinking you’re not good enough to prove a point to your shitty brother OR are we working on your material conditions that stem from that today?”

- “…..off yourself”

- Like he can’t say shit back bc you got em!

- Comes in often enough now that he doesn’t schedule sessions he just shows up to spill the tea

- (Isagi and bachira are the same. the spies on the inside that tell you how the others are doing)

- He comes in and flops down in the chair

- “I’m not looking forward to seeing him. Why the fuck did they call HIM to help the team? His ass should have stayed in Spain!”

- “Oh I hear ya, I’m not looking forward to even making eye contact with his ass either. I’m counting on yall to win.”

- “The game-“

- “I want yall to crush him. I have my own personal beef with him.”

- “…….im not asking how.”

- You’re being restrained from jumping over the divider during the game to go swing on Sae

- Like did you see that?? THE AUDACITY

- DID NOBODY ELSE IN THE WHOLE STADIUM HEAR THAT SHIT??

- Yeah I would have swing on his ass right when the final whistle blew

- Better than me for him to get that mess out his mouth about isagi

- Would have stood up and clocked his ass

- When they’re all jumping all over each other celebrating you can feel the bad vibes coming from rin

- It’s suffocating

- You run to the locker rooms to catch him and bump into sae(accompanied by shidou)

- “……”

- Glaring at his ass

- Give him the dirtiest look ever

- And then turn to Ryusei smiling like you saw a puppy

- “Hey Ryu! Wonderful performance you put on today. You definitely stole the show.”

- Like lmao just ignore him pls

- After saving rin from going off the deep end; bc baby I’m so sorry that an ugly ass bitch would say something like that to you

- Their two week vacation starts

- Rin is surprised to see you in not work clothes chilling like a regular person

- Ends up hanging out with you a lot bc you’re the only one who he can speak freely to

- Unfortunately his brother is also back in the country

- Running into Sae while hanging out with his brother was NOT on your vacation bingo card but here we are

- “You’re here?”

- “I could really say the same to you. You haven’t gotten citizenship to stay your ass over there yet?”

- Flashback✨ y’all had a casual thing back in the day because when he’s not closed off he can be pretty fun to be around

- Then he let a white man get in his feelings and refused to talk about them and lashed out on you

- So he just kinda got these feelings and nothing to do with them

- Didn’t think he’d ever see you again to be honest so now stuff that he buried ages ago is in his face

- Can’t tell you sorry. Doesn’t know how.

- Sees you smiling and doting on rin how you used to him and can’t help but get jealous

- Makes sure to approach you when rin isn’t around

- You go to the kitchen to get water boom he’s there too now

- “Jesus Christ do you ever announce yourself?”

- “You’re in MY house”

- “Is it your house if you only show up one a year?”

- Can’t help but start arguments when he just wants to talk regularly

- Rin already picking up what his brother is trying to lay down and he’s not having it

- He’s already developed a crush on you like you CANT leave

- Gets nervous bc if your past with sae that he might snatch you up too

- Not letting his brother take something else away from him

- So all of a sudden he’s a lot more touchy with you

- Trust me inside he’s screaming and throwing up bc he’s never done this before but he will try

- You can feel his stiff ass hand around your waist😭

- Poor baby

- The silent itoshi beef isn’t missed by you but you don’t know that they’re competing off the pitch too

- “You sure you don’t want to go do something? Like we watched horror movies in your room all day yesterday, I had errands to run-“

- “Well I wanted to start the final destination franchise so you gotta watch all 5 of them there’s a new one coming out”

- “Yeah in 2025! That’s like 3 years away!”

- “Shhhh, the movie starting🙄”

- Hoards you all to himself in his room because you’re surrounded by HIM and less chances for Sae to sneak up on you in public and steal you away or join your date outing together

- Thinks you look cute wrapped in his blankets and tries not to blush when you cling to him

- “I swear to god-“

- “My bad forgot there’s a jumpscare here I’ll warn you about the next one promise.”

- He won’t

- Sae rolling his eyes to the back of his head bc you just always in the house now and Rin hanging off you like a sad puppy

- Sae is more strategic where rin is impulsive

- So he’s the type to do shit from the past that he knew would make your heart flutter and run will be blunt and impulsive with his actions

- Sae will touch your lower back as he comes up behind you to grab a class from the cub board and hand it to you

- Sae will bring you home your favorite snack when he knows rin wont see him give it to you

- Rin will grab your hand in public and not let go to make sure you don’t get lost on a crowd

- Rin will clumsily press his lips to your forehead when you are most distracted

- Both are very annoying

- And after a good WEEK of getting mixed signals from both of them you’re ready to stay your ass at home for the rest of the vacation before it’s back to work

- Monday morning Rin invites you on a morning run

- Which you obviously say fuck NO to bc the sun ain’t even up

- But he shows up to your front door at the asscrack of dawn telling you to get dressed you have no say in the matter unfortunately

- The jog isn’t so bad and he has the decency to buy you breakfast afterwards so that’s nice

- Decent conversation surprisingly

- When he drops you off back at your home he kisses you before literally sprinting off

- He was working up the nerve to do that all morning

- Can’t even say thanks or whatever yet before he presses his body close to you and lifts your head to slot his lips against yours

- Puts all his feelings into that kiss before managing to get out “bye” before his throat completely closes up

- And then sprints off before you can even blink

- Clown

- Giggling and kicking his feet when he gets home

- Sae is packing for his trip back to Spain at the end of the week

- When he catches you leaving his house after another Rin spontaneous all day movie marathon

- Offers to drive you home because it’s dark and he remembers the address

- Didn’t really offer so much as grab his Keys complaining about how you know better than to be outside this late

- Sir 🫤🫤

- The ride is kinda tense until he forces a conversation

- Unsurprisingly e vividly remembers all the right buttons to press to see that smile he’s been dying to see

- Don’t even notice he took the long way back to your home

- Puts his new number in your phone and tells you to stop being stubborn and answer when he texts you

- He’s a gentleman before all else so he walks you right to your front door

- Man barely hears a word you said before pulling you closer by your neck pressing his lips to yours

- Remembers you like the back of his hand the way his lips fit so familiar with yours

- Ends up with your arms around his neck and your back pressed into the front door

- Clearly wanting to come inside he pulls away because he’s fond of the chase🙄😒

- Wishes you a good night before kissing your forehead and going back to his car

- both of them have laid their cards out on the table

- Just up to you to make a choice I’m afraid

#my writing #x black reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock #bllk scenarios #bllk #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #rin x reader #bllk rin #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #I had a whole different direction for this originally #but I was like actually you can’t have both this time #a choice must be made #anon asks #anon answered

[sytoran]

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓.

completely and entirely based on 'taunt' by lovejoy.

──── ☕ pairing. wanda maximoff x gn!reader

──── ☕ cont. high school/college!au, gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, implied sexual references, homophobia, "best friends", unrequited love, vision's an ass, you deserve better, but i had to do it, wanda's nose-scrunch is a recurring theme, look me in the eyes and tell me i'm wrong for that.

──── ☕ note. my angst brainrot with wanda maximoff. she's kinda-but-not-realy-but-yea homophobic (???) i'm so sorry, for once i capitalize my words but only this time for uniformity

masterlist / AO3

The first time you see Wanda Maximoff, you think she’s taunting you.

She's always asking, "Am I alright?"

As if auspicious or in my pint

She stares at you from across the classroom. Iridescent, mischievous, calculating. You blink slowly. What do you want? Your eyes ask. Hers don’t answer.

I'll find the answer or a good night

Thank God the time is short

The moment ends before your brain can wrap itself around the situation. Those eyes flicker away. You swear you’re hallucinating, but it was the Wanda Maximoff that just stared at you for a moment too long, right?

Popular but in a cool way, dark but humorous, casual but breathtaking — that Wanda Maximoff, right?

And, yes, you always do that one thing

When you wrinkle up the nose bridge

The next time you see Wanda Maximoff, she’s not standing that far away at all. Instead, right up next to you. Almost delving into your personal space.

She’s just curious. That’s all, you tell yourself. It was a coincidence that she sat there, a matter of circumstance.

Her books have crossed that line of boundaries, chair a little too close. Her elbow is merely an inch from yours. It’s really nothing.

You shrug it off, because Wanda hasn’t said a single word to you.

The redhead’s response comes in nothing more than a nose-scrunch.

I'm trying to figure out what that meant

Wrinkling her nose bridge, eyes narrowed in a bitten-back chortle, glimmering with amusement. You follow her line of vision in silent contemplation.

You freeze when you see her fingers tracing the pride sticker on your file.

Fingertips, scratching the already fading sticker. The nose-scrunch doesn’t seem that friendly anymore.

A rainbow becomes a sea of black. A coldness washes over you.

I took it as a taunt

After that incident, the two of you never did speak for nearly five months. High school graduation happened soon after, and then Wanda Maximoff tasted like a distant memory.

Remember way back then in school?

It’s less history, and more present. Truth or dare, college classes.

You never thought you’d see her again, to be honest, but life swung by however it pleased. Apparently, life swung towards inexplicably alluring women.

Of course, Wanda being Wanda, had taken the dare for nearly every single round.

Oh, did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

A drinking challenge, with Steve Rogers, who tapped out three rounds before her. Done.

Did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

A tattoo, from the shitty parlor down the street. Done.

And I don't think I have a clue

The word ‘kiss’ falls from Valkyrie’s lips before you can help it, because it’s Wanda’s turn again and you’re a hopeless fool.

Wanda’s been dared to kiss you.

'Cause, well, did anybody ever say no to you?

‘Levitating’ by Dua Lipa has never felt heavier. The music is ringing in your ears. Cheers turn into wolf-whistles, turn into chants. Your skin prickles.

Oh, did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

You couldn’t say no to her.

Before Wanda can brush off with a charming smile that no, you’re not comfortable with it, or before her eyes can bring up bitter memories from three years ago — you pull her into a kiss.

A hand resting on her annoyingly soft cheek. Your thumb finds the divine urge to run over her flushed cheeks and sharp cheekbones, but restraint pushes you back.

When you break from the kiss, your eyes are unsettled, because why did that feel good? You ignore the hoots from your friends, instead send a slow smile to the flustered mess that was Wanda.

You could taunt her as well.

You're always trying to leave the table

Phone calls, toilet breaks, unstable

Wanda Maximoff is not fine.

She has not been, since she started dating Jarvis. You don’t care, you really don’t.

But when he drops her hand and brushes her off mid-speech, you think you might find the strength in you to break a neck.

I’m fine, Wanda insists. I’m happy, so you can leave me alone. For once. Just ‘cause you’re gay doesn’t mean everyone is, alright?

Swallowing down a lump in your throat, you walk away with defiant eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

Wanda’s a good liar.

And don't you think that we can all tell?

You're insecure, you're insecure

Wanda Maximoff, to you, is shitty diners, and expired bubblegum, and late night car drives to quiet lakes.

Under the prerequisite of friends, that is.

I guess I always do that one thing

When I get too drunk and jump in

You don’t mean it, you really don’t, when your fist flies and happens to knock into Jarvis’ nose on a hot Wednesday night.

He’s just been such a bitch to Wanda, and she’s just your best friend, you know, but there’s a line — there’s a line that you have every right to cross when he forgets her birthday, and she starts crying, and he gets mad.

To figure out what makes your brain tick

You don’t hold yourself back from spitting a snarl of foul words when Jarvis shoves past you. Wanda’s yelling at you, but you’re too tired to care.

Even Tony, so obstinate and so proud, gives you a sympathetic smile.

You’ve never hit a harder rock bottom.

I'm a listener, I'm a listener

When Wanda breaks down into your arms later that night, body wracking with heavy sobs and gasps for air, you listen.

You let her punch your shoulder, then you stroke her back, and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. It was all you’d ever be.

Until she pushed you down onto that rackety bed, meeting your lips along the way. Iridescent, mischievous, miscalculated.

Forget the number for the cab call

As you're dashing out the front door

The next morning is a rush, with Wanda grabbing this after that, saying that she was sorry, and she’d make it up to you. She also calls you a reliable friend, and you want to sink into the depths of darkholds.

She was halfway out the door before you opened your eyes.

You claim to try to dodge the catcalls

Exactly one week later, when you see Jarvis pushing Wanda up against the wall, your heart collapses in on itself.

She was your first love, and you were her little taunt.

Thank God the time is short

Weeks fly by, but it feels strangely quick. You’ve grown numb to the sights of Wanda and her stupidly pretty boyfriend.

And, yes, you always do that one thing

An informal college graduation party, at the same shitty diner with the same shitty pop music.

You don’t really know what you’re doing when you pull a pretty girl into a kiss, after about five minutes of flirting and fifty minutes of alcohol.

'Cause when you throw and drench me under your drink

Cranberry juice stains your white shirt in a few moments. You break away from the kiss, hardly surprised to see Wanda Maximoff with her face redder than her flaming hair, a now-emptied glass about to snap in her hands.

I'm trying to figure out what that means

You can’t feel, not when she was everything to you but you were nothing more than a friend.

“What’s the big issue?” you had drawled, eyes narrowed as you surveyed Wanda with a painfully indifferent expression. “Friends can kiss each other, right?”

The silence is loud.

Wanda’s nose scrunches, a painful imprintment into your godforsaken memory, and a dagger is stabbed into your gut because this time, because you know she's trying not to cry.

Her nose is scrunching, not because she's taunting you, but because she's blinking back tears, and her bottom lip is trembling so much. So, so much.

It’s stupid, the way you’re holding back tears yourself — you want to shout, and scream, because what did you fucking do to deserve the way she treated you.

But you join in with your friends on the cruel laughter, because you don’t know what else to do. Because she was never yours.

The last time you see Wanda Maximoff, you know she’s not taunting you, but you so desperately want to believe she is.

I took it as a taunt

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @matchasrad @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 wanna be added to the taglist to see more works like this? leave an ask in my inbox! if by any chance you want to be removed from the taglist, also leave an ask in my inbox.

i was not fine when i wrote this. i'm going through my depressed arc because i'll never be truly accepted by my parents (bawls)

the fancy line breaks are from @u-uwin

masterlist / AO3

#marvel women #marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader angst #wanda maximoff angst #wanda angst #gender neutral reader #x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff x y/n #gxg #wlw

[aalyssah]

Eat, Cuddle, And Sleep

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 748

Summary: After a long day of work, all you want is the comfort of your lovely girlfriend, Natasha.

A/N: Not a fan of this, but Hope You Enjoy!

You let out a sigh, walking through the front door. You threw your keys in the dish bowl and hung your coat on the hanger. Today at work was very stressful.

Your boss yelled at you just because you had a late assignment, you had to work overtime, and this blonde bitch, has been spreading rumors about you because she is jealous that you're dating Nat.

You wanted nothing more than to be with your Nat, but she had already been stressed with work herself. You walked upstairs going to the bathroom to wash up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, not noticing the tears running down your cheek. Natasha heard the keys and the door slam.

She excitedly snuck upstairs and grabbed your shoulders. "Boo!" She started laughing, but then stopped when she heard sniffles and saw your body shaking. "Y/n?" She turned your body around and saw your face. Red teary eyes, mouth in frown, hugging your body.

You looked like the time Nat said no to a stuffed animal at the store. "Baby, what's wrong?" She held your face in her hands looking into your eyes. You pushed yourself in her chest, hugging her tightly. "Work has been a pain in my ass." You cried, once more. "Tell me about what happen, little one." She's trying to make you slip and it might work. "You remember that girl, Rachel?"

Nat nodded her head waiting for you to continue. "She told the boss that when I was cleaning his office, I threw his files away, so he canceled my promotion and he gonna make me work overtime next week!" You sobbed, once more, thinking about all the hours you'll have to spend at that shitty workplace.

"It's okay baby, I'll fix it, but for now, what do you want to do?" You could feel yourself slipping into your little headspace. "I just wanna eat, cuddle, and sleep! I'm tired of all this big girl stuff!" You huffed out, putting your head in her neck. "Okay baby." She picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

She set you on the counter while she got a bath ready. You watched as she added your favorite soap and got towels and washcloths ready. "Go ahead and strip and get in, I'll be right back." She walked out the room, leaving you alone. You stripped from your clothes, feeling sore and tired.

Your body hurts from sitting down in an uncomfortable chair all day. You lowered yourself in the hot water, feeling relaxed instantly. The hot water eased your muscles as you went deeper in the water. This was all you needed. Natasha lets you soak in the bath while she orders take out and get the bedroom ready.

Shelaid out your clothes and walked back to you. "How you feeling, baby?" You hummed in satisfaction and nodded your head when you felt her hands come to your shoulders. She began massaging the tense knots she felt as you flinched. "These knots are hard! They're overworking you, Baby!" You ignored her scolding, loving the feeling of her hands on your body.

She stood up and started stripping her clothes off. "What are you doing?" You asked, curiously. "I'm gonna join you." Was all she said, after pulling you up to sit behind you. She let her hands roam your body, splashing the soapy water on you and tickling you just to hear the laugh she loves the most. "Are you ready to wash off?" You nodded your head, already feeling sleepy.

You took the water drain and showered like normal. You got out and went downstairs, not feeling like changing. Plus, you were in comfort of your own. Nat grabbed the food off the porch and warmed it up. You were on the verge of sleeping, head resting against the table.

"Come on, Love. Take a couple of bites for me and we can go to sleep, yeah?" You agreed, opening your mouth. She held the sand to your light before taking a bite of her own. She fed you and held a drink to your mouth until it was all gone. "You did, so good." She praised, throwing everything away. She noticed how sleepy you were, not even trying to leave your eyes open.

She carried you upstairs to the bedroom and laid you down under the covers. She put on SpongeBob SquarePants and spooned you. She gently ran her hands through your hair.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #marvel fluff

[writingsfromhome]

Shedding Memories

A/N: just a quick fic of running into Harry when you both need a friend. I wrote this p quickly so ignore any mistakes. Happy holidays everyone :)

———————————

The part I liked about getting the closing shift was that I could put on my music and completely zone out.

Dealing with the public was a shitty job, no matter the capacity, and zoning out let me compose myself before heading home.

But tonight, a customer stays hunched in the corner seat. I had called out to everyone 15 minutes ago that we were closing in a half hour and by now nearly everyone was gone. The last few people pack up, yet corner guy remains.

“Hi,” I say from behind him. “We’re closing very soon just wanted to let you know.”

“Yep. I’ll be off soon,” he says. His voice is rough and low, a slight accent to it. But he kinda mumbles so I could be imagining it.

But he’s not off soon. I put up all the chairs, lock the doors to anyone new, and wipe down the tables. It’s officially 10pm but the guy’s ass is as glued as it was when he first sat down.

I don’t know how long he’d been here for actually. I got in at 5 and he’d been there with a steaming cup of something. But he just stayed there save for one refill, all evening.

Was he homeless? I examine his hoodie and baggy jeans. They seemed more stylish than survival.

“Hi s’cuse me sir,” I drop the customer service voice a notch and stand next to him. He was really putting a wrench in my evening plans. “I’m sorry to kick you out but it is 10 which is when we close. So I do have to ask you to leave.”

God I hated this shit. Why couldn’t he just leave like a normal person!? And tonight of all nights I’d told my closing partner he could leave early for a date night. I wish I hadn’t. It would’ve felt safer kicking this guy out with another dude around.

“Sorry,” the guy says. His face is mostly covered by his hoodie and he turns away to pull something from his pocket. I watch wearily but it’s just his phone. He sighs and puts it face down. “Is there any chance I can stay here while you clean up?”

“I’m sorry no.” I wasn’t allowed to do that. “Is your phone dead? You can use ours if you need to call for someone?”

He sighs again, like he alone was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and I just wasn’t being understanding enough.

Stop judging so much, I chide myself. Maybe he has a tough life.

“Look, I…” I stop mid-sentence and my mouth stays in the shape of the vowel as he lifts his head up. Is it just me or did he look like global pop-sensation and former boy band member Harry Styles!?

He notices my expression and grimaces.

Okay, it had to be him. And I was acting like a total freak right now.

“Sorry.” I take a step back and bump into the broom I’d balanced on the chair behind me. It clatters to the floor and I jump.

“It’s alright,” he leans down and picks it up for me. Harry Styles was handing me the broom I was meant to close with. I was dreaming. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Are you…in trouble?” I couldn’t wrap my head around why a guy like him would spend the whole evening in the corner of a coffee shop, staring at the wall. And then ask to stay while I closed.

He looks at me for a beat, his eyes are every bit intense as I assumed they would be. In real life, his beauty is a lot more breathtaking than photos. Or maybe I was just having some sort of breakdown. And he’s at least 7 inches taller than me, so he towers over me and I feel nothing but intimidated.

“Fuck. Sorry. Wait.” I shake my head. I have to look away from him. I had to clear my head!

I walk with the broom to the register. “Stop acting like a weirdo!” I whisper to myself.

Harry Styles was in my coffee shop. I was alone with Harry Styles in my coffee shop. What the hell was this? Wattpad?

I turn back around, but he’s looking out the window.

“Sorry. I’m being super weird right now but I wasn’t expecting…you. To be the guy I’m trying to kick out!”

“It’s fine.” He turns back to me.

“I don’t want to be nosy and pry but um, is everything okay? Did you need…help?”

His face loosens a bit with a small smile. I look past him so I can continue having this conversation and not require an inhaler for the first time in my life.

“It would help if I can stay here while you clean up actually.”

“Yeah! Okay…I mean I’m not supposed to but you’re like, Harry Styles? I’m sure my manager would not mind a single bit. She plays your songs all the time it’s basically part of onboarding. By the time we know all the drinks on the menu we also know all your lyrics and I….I’m gonna shut up.”

I turn back with the broom and start sweeping. Was I too awkward? Was I even sweeping like a normal person? Oh god was I being too stiff. Did I forget how to sweep???

I pause.

Maybe I should ask him another question. Maybe-

“I don’t want to get you in trouble uhm-,” I turn and he’s speaking to me 10 feet away. He squints at my name tag.

“Y/N.” I say it for him.

“Y/N. I can leave if I’m gonna get you in trouble-“

“No. No it’s okay! Seriously just sit wherever. But I will put on my own music while I close up, and you’ll have to suffer through it.”

“I don’t consider listening to music suffering.” He jokes. He makes a joke! With me!

“Well then you’ll love Baby Shark,” I joke back. He tilts his head—the joke doesn’t land. “Bad joke. Nevermind. I’m a Phoebe Bridgers fan so just prepare to be in your feelings!”

“I love her,” Harry nods approvingly. “Play on.”

As Phoebe’s distinct voice plays through the speakers I find myself relaxing, mouthing the words, and getting lost in the closing up routine. Of course, I never forget Harry Styles was sitting in the corner. If I did I would be belting the songs out loud. But it starts to feels less dreamy and the randomness begins to flatline to normal.

“Okay, I’m just gonna toss these out.” I shake the unglamorous bags of trash in my hands a half hour later. “And then I’m kicking both of us out.”

“Let me give you a hand.” Before I could protest Harry freaking Styles takes the trashbag from my hand and walks to the back door.

“Whaaaat,” I whisper to myself before scurrying behind him.

He tosses it with ease. I’m sure he had amazing arms under that baggy hoodie of his. He could probably toss me as easily—

I needed to chill.

“Do you have a ride?” I ask as we wash hands. “I can give you a lift somewhere? Unless your car’s outside? Um. Yeah. You probably have your own car nevermind.”

He’s silent, maybe I needed to shut up and stop blabbering.

“I take it you haven’t seen the news.” He leans back against the counter, drying his hands.

“News? Do people still watch that?” Bad joke. Stop talking.

“Uh,” his eyes crinkle slightly. “Social media. Whatever.”

“Nope. Been a busy day.”

“Right…”

“Something happened right? That’s why you’re hiding out here.”

“Yep,” he nods.

“Did your nudes leak or something?”

He looks at me, one brow raised. Fuck! I feel the blood rush to my face.

“Sorry! I am so out of my depth right now and I don’t know why I said that! That was bad. It’s just the worst thing that came to mind I-“

I register his shoulders shaking at first and then he’s doubling over laughing. I stare at first but then I chuckle with him. I’m too nervous to actually laugh at whatever’s happening even though I know looking back I definitely will.

“That’s alright,” he’s grinning when he looks back up. I would be mesmerized by it if his hood hadn’t slipped back to reveal no fucking hair.

“What…is that…?”

“What?” When I point to his head he touches it. He seems to remember himself. “Oh. I forgot I’d done that.”

“That’s new? Is that what’s out there? Is that why you’re hiding?”

“It’s not really new. I cut it all off yesterday-“

“I think you did more than cut it.” It was basically buzzed.

He laughs again and I feel bubbly inside. The bubbles fill me with a weird energy—just as long as it didn’t bubble up out of my mouth and come out in babbling I didn’t have to worry. I cover my mouth to contain any nervous words just in case.

“Why are you covering your mouth? Is it that bad?”

He looks into the warped reflection on the coffee machine. It didn’t look bad.

“It’s different. You’re known for your hair y’know? It’s not bad…just wow. Different.”

“Different’s not bad?”

“No! We’ll just need to get used to it. Honestly you kind of pull the whole buzzed look off. I bet if you grew out like a proper moustache it could be really…”

Thank god I stop myself this time. Because I was going to say a word I would definitely be mortified by.

“Really?” He smirks.

“Cool.” I finish lamely. “So um. Anyway. Are you good or should I drive you somewhere? Are you in trouble with the police or something?”

“I could use a ride…” He says with a slight cringe. “Is that something you’re alright doing?”

“Yeah! I was just gonna go home and stuff my face with leftovers before falling asleep in front of like, Gilmore Girls or something.”

“That’s a good show. That sounds like a nice time actually.”

“Does it? Because I regretted saying it as soon as it came out of my mouth.”

“Do you have a filter?” He asks but he smiles, he wasn’t annoyed. Not yet at least.

“Usually. But I also don’t normally have casual conversations with people I only ever see on the news or on my phone.”

“Do people still watch the news?”

It dawns on me slowly, he was making fun of me and repeating the question I asked earlier. I cover my face with my hands and he laughs. It’s such an intoxicating sound. And I really want to stop feeling like an idiot.

“I’m just bothering you,” hands come down on my wrist and oh my fuck he was touching me! He tugs at my hands and I drop them, still unable to meet his eyes.

I stuff my hands in my pocket. “I know. I’m probably going to lie awake for hours tonight thinking about every embarrassing thing that’s come out of my mouth.”

“No look,” he steps in front of me. He puts his hands on his chest and I notice the rings on his fingers, his tattoos. This was really Harry Styles in front of me.

“No look at me.” He tries to get my attention again. “See, I’m just a person. Just like you. Yeah I sing and shit but I’m just a guy.”

“You say that like I don’t have the world’s worst history with guys.” I finally make the push to look up into his face. I had an even worse history with attractive guys. “But I understand what you’re trying to achieve. And I appreciate it. You’re just shmegular and I can stop being a weirdo.”

“My phone works.” He says suddenly. “I just turned it off because I have a million people calling and texting me for some sort of response.”

I don’t reply, unsure where he was going.

He didn’t really have to make all this effort to make me comfortable but I recognize why he’s doing it; trying to bring himself down to earth for me. And it’s sweet and endearing and I want to tell him he didn’t have to do that. That I would help him out even if he wrote me a note, simply because he was Harry freaking Styles. But I just stay quiet for the first time tonight.

“Someone leaked pap photos of my girlfriend cheating on me.”

I gasp, I can’t help it. “I’m sorry. Harry. I-That’s an awful fucking way to find out.”

“It…” he glances around as if we weren’t the only two people around. “I shouldn’t be saying this but. It was just for show. The relationship, I mean. The guy in the photo’s her actual boyfriend so I don’t really care. Never wanted to do this fake shite in the first place but I was kinda forced to by my management. It promoted my new single, and her new show or whatever.”

“Oh.” I guess that’s the way his world worked. My world was begging my coworker to change shifts with me so I could have my weekly mental breakdown in private.

“Yep. So everyone is expecting me to give a statement, play the part of jilted boyfriend, but I can’t be arsed by any of it. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”

“So you holed up in the corner of this coffee shop, and stared at that wall for the last like…how many hours?”

“I lost count.” He shrugs. “And I did have a book I was reading. I wasn’t just staring at the wall.”

I shrug, “I’m not judging. I stare at the wall a lot. Especially on my breaks.”

He laughs again, and it breaks the serious air around his story.

“So where am I taking you if you’re avoiding everyone? Do you have a hotel room or?”

“It’s probably swimming in paps.” He sighs.

“So wild idea. I have a couple roommates who are supposed to be out tonight. Do you want to stay at my place until you feel like answering your phone?”

His face looks so hopeful for a second. “No. I can’t do that to you.”

“Remember when I detailed my evening plans? It’s honestly nothing.”

He gets all broody as he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to drag you into it-“

“Look you’re in disguise. I live far away from whatever hotel you can afford that no one will see you. And I can drop you off on a street corner tomorrow morning whenever you want.”

“Like a hooker?”

“Yeah. We can play reverse pretty woman.”

He smiles. I stare.

“Fine. Yeah. Alright.”

“Alright! Let me turn out the light and we’ll go.”

So that’s how I find myself driving Harry Styles to my apartment, realizing the closer we get to home how filthy I had left my room.

“Don’t judge please,” I say in the elevator up. “But our apartment is not magazine worthy. It’s just home.”

“Home sounds nice,” he says. His hoodie’s back up and covering most of his face. It feels silly talking to him like this.

“Stay here,” I instruct him when we walk in. I zip into my room, it’s not as bad as it could be but I move all the dirty laundry to the hamper, gather the papers on my desk in one pile, shove my makeup back into a drawer, and gather as many empty cans and glasses into my hands to take back to the kitchen.

When I go back to him he’s standing exactly where I left him.

“Okay. So I only have leftovers. Chinese. Are you hungry? I can order us something else or-“

“No that sounds perfect.”

“Does it?” I tell him to come in and he follows me to the kitchen, sitting down at the island as I pull plates and containers out. “Okay just fill your plate and I’ll heat it up. Are you sure this is alright?”

“You’ll be surprised at my diet when I’m on tour. It starts out good but by the end of it I want to get my stomach pumped for all the shite I put into it. This looks delicious.”

I dish out dinner for us and decline his request to help. I try not to be hyperaware of him watching me move around our small kitchen, and focus on thinking of him as a guest. That’s it.

“So um, why the haircut?” I ask as I carry the plates to my room. I had the biggest room in the house and by biggest that simply meant I could afford a queen sized bed and my closet could fit all my clothes. I’d been living here for the last year and a half with my two roommates.

“Eh,” he runs his hand over his head. I was really tempted to do it, see what it felt like. But I refrain. Obviously. “Turning over a new leaf? In a lot of cultures, hair symbolizes a lot. I felt like starting fresh, and getting rid of all of it would just help.”

“Yeah I’ve heard of that. Like the hair that’s grown has witnessed everything over the last few years—at least if you grow it long enough to last a few years.”

“Hm yeah,” he says between bites. I can’t believe Harry Styles was eating last night’s leftovers with me. “Exactly.”

“Maybe I should chop most of my hair off.” I muse. “I could use that new leaf shit.”

“Why?” Harry asks bluntly. I nearly choke on a piece of broccoli. “Sorry. I’m being the nosy one aren’t I?”

“No,” I clear my throat. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“You don’t have to answer.” He smiles, god did he have to look so charming? “But I’d love to know what memories your hair holds.”

Damn. He had a way with words.

He’s an artist, I think. Duh.

“Let’s see.” I hold the bottom few inches. “Quitting my fancy job because I was burnt out and going through an existential crisis.” I climb higher and hold the next few inches. “Traumatic breakup with my long-term guy. How could a lawyer date a barista after she’d been a doctor y’know? A power couple can’t include a lowly job like a barista.” I roll my eyes like I wasn’t going to cry all over again, and hold another inch. “And this here is me grieving everything I thought my life was going to be.”

He’s silent for a bit. I think I’ve actually shocked him into silence. I almost laugh.

He puts his plate down and leans over, topping the top of my head. “This?”

The spot where he touched my head thrums. I think about the last year of my life. “Realizing my identity isn’t my career. And that for the first time in my life I can pursue my passions.”

“Hm.” He nods. “That’s a good realization.”

“Yeah, it really was for me.”

“I don’t have any boundaries between my identity and my life…” he goes silent again. I know he’s thinking so it doesn’t feel awkward. I go back to my dinner.

“So what’s the passion you’re pursuing?” He asks. Probably to change the subject.

“Well…” I put my plate down and walk to my closet, sliding open the door. I point to the floor. His face scrunches and he gets up to get a closer look.

“Do you sing or something?” He asks.

“God no!” I laugh. I guess he would think that seeing the blanket, laptop table, and microphone. “I started a podcast and it’s soundproof in here. I love this little space actually.”

“A podcast?!” He looks at me, impressed. I try not to blush. “What about?”

“Um, well I do know my medical shit—studied it for years and all. But it’s about taking care of ourselves, giving advice to people, burnout, identities, everything I learned leaving my job. All that.”

“Wow.” He nods thoughtfully. “That’s amazing.”

I shrug and go back to sitting on my bed, taking another bite of my dinner.

“Do you get a lot of listens?”

“I have a couple hundred listeners.” I tell him. “Actually. At first I was obsessive over the numbers. I’d spent the last couple decades obsessed over numbers—grades and all that. It was a habit.”

“And now?”

“Well I had to force myself to never look at my numbers for the first while and it helped me focus on the content itself. Make sure I was making something I put my heart behind, not just something I thought would do well. It’s been half a year now, and I’m just starting to look at them again.”

“Wow. Half a year that’s amazing. Good for you. I know we barely know each other but…I’m proud of you for figuring that all out. It’s inspiring.”

He was right, we barely knew each other. Yet somehow I knew he was genuine about what he was saying. I feel a warm tingling sensation in my stomach. “Thank you Harry.”

“Yeah. Wow.” His eyes flicker over my hair. “There is a lot of memories in that hair of yours.”

“Yeah it’s like, was it Mean Girls? My hair isn’t big, but it’s so long because it’s filled with secrets.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “That’s a good line.”

“Maybe I should cut it off,” the more I thought about it the more I liked the idea. Why was I keeping it this long? “I should cut it off.”

“Uh I don’t know…”

“No!” I get up again, firm in what I wanted. The only reason my hair was always long was because my ex had told me once he liked it long. And now that I thought about it, I’d unconsciously kept it that way since. Fuck that! I wanted to get rid of these memories, “I want to turn a new leaf and all that bullshit.”

“I feel like I’ve been a bad influence.” Harry says softly.

“You’re cutting my hair Styles-“

“I don’t know how to!”

“C’mon we’ll watch a youtube video. You play guitar I’m sure you’re good with your hands.”

An awkward silence stretches and he coughs out a laugh.

“Oh my god not like that!” I take his hand and try not to think of whatever image he had just thought of. “Bathroom, scissors, phone. Let’s go.”

I queue up a video as he follows me. I shut the door and shove the video in his hands. Meanwhile, I turn the bathtub tap on and dunk my hair in it to get it wet so it would be easier to cut. Like the video said.

“Y/N,” Harry says wearily. Hearing my name out of his mouth is weird.

“Did you watch it?” I rummage through the drawers and come up with a pair. “Here.”

“They use an electric-“

“Just do it with the scissors!” I encourage him. “If it’s uneven that’s okay! I can get it fixed later in the week.”

I turn back to the mirror and everything slows down as I take the scene in. Harry Styles in my bathroom, standing behind me and eyeing me nervously. Me, with my too-long hair, flushed and determined to get this all over with, to shed the memories I’d been holding on for too long.

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking me dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Yep! I’m 100% sure.”

“Don’t kill me if you wake up tomorrow and regret this.”

“Just cut it.”

“So bossy,” he smiles and begins combing my hair down like the video had. I watch him, it’s endearing how much concentration he has as he perfects my strands and begins to measure. He’s slow, and deliberate, and I know I picked the right dude because I’d guessed correctly—he was a perfectionist.

When the first big chunk is removed and he deposits it in the sink I tear up. I feel the weight of it removed and it makes me think of everything it witnessed.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” I reach out and touch the hair that was attached to me seconds ago. It was just hair, but it also wasn’t. “Continue.”

His hand brushes my neck again and I try not to lean into his touch. Try not to think about how close we were. This was Harry Styles, not just a random dude. Get it together. Nothing was going to happen here as intoxicating as his touch was and whatever cologne he wore.

When he finishes my hair, it barely brushes my shoulders.

“I.” I turn around and face him. “Love it!”

“Really?”

“Really!” I turn back to look at myself again and I see his shoulder settle down. He watches me turn my head every way in the mirror.

“It looks good on you. The short hair.”

It did. My ex never saw me with short hair. It was like I was a new woman.

“I feel brand new.”

He smiles behind me. “That’s how I felt yesterday”

I turn back to face him, forcing myself not to think too hard about the foot of space between us. “Thank you. I know this isn’t how you thought your evening was going to go. But I needed this. So…thank you.”

Something flickers past his face. His smile grows smaller. “Yeah. This actually made me forget all about what’s waiting for me. So I should say thank you for distracting me.”

“No moping,” I open the door to the bathroom, grateful to get more space. “There are drinks in the fridge if you’d like. I’m going to wash out my hair quickly and then you and I are watching Gilmore Girls.

“I’ve only watched the first season.” He backs out into the hall.

“Perfect. We’ll start at season 2!”

When I get back to my room, jammies on and ready for a cozy night in, Harry’s already looking half asleep.

I tell him where to sit—I’d set up my room so that my bed is against the wall and the set of pillows turns it into a day bed. On the opposite wall I’d left it blank to allow my projector to play anything from my laptop. He settles onto one side and I sit beside him, making sure to leave a foot of space between us.

As I navigate my laptop to pull up the show, I feel fingers on my hair. I turn to him.

“It actually suits you. Look really nice.”

He rubs a strand between his fingers.

“I feel lighter.”

He drops his hand and rubs it over his own head.

“Me too.”

We smile at each other, a bond tying me to him. I hoped doing this could be like a last step before I can fully move on from the last chapter of my life. I’d already done so much of my healing but I still found myself crying at 2ams and staring at my bedroom ceiling at 2pms. I needed this—talking to a stranger about it all, and shedding the weight physically.

Now all that was left was to cozy up and watch my favourite show.

“So how many Gilmore girls are there?” Harry whispers as I press play.

“You did not just ask that question. Are you sure you watched season 1?”

“A couple years ago yeah.”

“Then just watch.” I pull my blanket up and feel Harry shift slightly, our shoulders touch.

“Thanks Y/N,” he whispers after a while.

“Thank you,” I tell him. Whatever we did for each other tonight felt like fate had put us in a blender and pressed power. I mean, me and Harry freaking Styles were together on my bed at 1am, watching Gilmore Girls and falling asleep halfway. I guess we’d both needed a fresh perspective and a friend, and this was a good a way as any to make some new memories.

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles hair #this fic is qd #baldrry #lmao at these being tags

[tinydeskwriter]

Dirty Tricks

A/n: Just something I had in my drafts… it’s kinda of angsty…

word count: 974

After what felt like a lifetime she raised her eyes from the dark wood table, eyeing the people around before her eyes landed on the man sitting next to her boyfriend of two years—fiancés, she remembered looking at the emerald ring on her finger— she never had na kind of feelings against him… until now. She couldn’t even look at the other woman siting at the table with them. She felt… ambushed in that position, all by herself, with no one on her side—this wasn’t about her career after all, she was there only as Harry’s significant other—not even the man with whom she shared a private life.

She narrowed her eyes, the big eyes the world seemed to love so much, and looked at the member of the team who had voiced the idea with disdain—which everyone seemed to have been previously briefed about, but her— she scoffed before giving them a predatory grin.

“So… the movie is so shitty that it has to resort to dirty tricks to sell?” She asked no one in particular.

“Y/n…” She held up two fingers at her boyfriend’s manager, fixing him a medusa glare.

“I’am talking, Jeffrey, wait your turn.” She said with bite, her eyes finally going to Harry, she was furious with him for being put in such a position. “Let’s talk H, is this what you think is best for your career?”

“Maybe this is not the place…”Jeff tried to say.

“He’s a grow ass man, Jeff, let him talk for himself.” Her eyes didn’t move from her uncomfortable boyfriend. Harry hated confrontation, worst of all a public one. “I am going to repeat myself: Is THIS what YOU think is the best? Pushing ME to the background of your life, for a bullshit stunt you don’t need? Is it what you honestly believe is the best your career?”

“Jeff believes…” Harry started, finally looking at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes scoffing at his answer.

“I am not asking for Jeff’s opinion Harry.” His face fell as he looked at her, his usually calm fiancee looking livid, properly furious, in a way he only had seen her while acting. 

“Babe, this isn’t what I want, you know that, but the team believe is going to be good for the movie and for my image, and I trust my team.” He tried to appease her, placing his hand over hers, only for her to take it away. “It’s fake, Y/n, not that different from you flirting with your co-stars in interviews.”

She looked at him shocked. “It’s very different Harry, and if you can’t see it…” She was done being there, it wasn’t her career, it wasn’t her choice, she had a photoshoot to attend and a interview to give.

She git up from her chair and gave them all a diplomatic smile, she took the emerald from her finger, placing it in front of Harry on the table, ignoring his shocked expression, “I have the shoot for my Vanity Fair cover, and later I am going to a meeting with Mark, I will either stay at his guest house or the Marmont.” She said looking exclusively at Harry. “You have till tomorrow to make a decision, if you want to go forward with this, fine, as I said, it is your career, but I don’t want your stuff at my place when I get back, Jeff can help you finding a new place.”

She adjusted her jacket over her shoulders and placed her Dior sunglasses on her face. “Jeffrey, it was good seeing you.” she said sarcastically, before turning her back and leaving. 

She was followed out of the room by Harry. He grabbed her arm, preventing her from entering the elevator.

“Lovie, let’s talk about this…” He tried, his hand going up and down her arm. In her heels they are almost the same height.

“There is nothing to talk about Harry, you know where I stand, I won’t stand by and watch my fiancé acting like he’s in love with some other woman,” She looked him in the eyes. “it is hurtful that you’re okay with keeping me a secret like I am a embarrassment to you,” Y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, “honestly, I am a critical acclaimed actress, and your management treat me like I don’t matter, she’s a B-list actress no one cares about, and they are dealing with her like she’s gold, and you agree! Because you’re willing to keep me as your hidden dirty little secret, and show her off to the world pretending that you love her, and you know that we won’t be able to be seen together in public while it is going on, and I will be the man-stealer no matter what when this shit ends.” Y/n refused to cry in front of him. “And you knew this is what was going to be talked about, and you let me come in blind, you let them ambush me.”

Harry was at loss of words.

“It hurts when the man you’re planning to get married to, treat’s you like second best…” She paused for a minute to control o sob that threatened to come out. “You really showed me were I stand in your list of priorities.”

She pulled away from him and pressed the elevator button.

“Treat me like and option and I will leave you like a choice.” She told him with a bitter smile. “I love you H, but I don’t need you, it will hurt like fucking hell, but in a month I’ll have moved on.” She said getting into the elevator, feeling sad that that may be the last time she sees him. 

Harry always let himself be controlled by his management, he wasn’t a push over but he didn’t enjoy confrontations and ‘Jeff knows best’.

PART II

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