#this was his favorite and he wouldn’t hear otherwise

[bobluvbot]

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic. 

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together. 

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous. 

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius. 

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson. 

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly. 

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself. 

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through. 

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth. 

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment. 

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss. 

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea. 

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between. 

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy. 

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically. 

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support. 

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies. 

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair.  An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back. 

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that  laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly. 

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room. 

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back. 

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs. 

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest. 

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.” 

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day. 

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head. 

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland. 

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids.  “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?” 

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard. 

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.” 

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.” 

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see. 

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming. 

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal? 

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges. 

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay. 

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart. 

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only. 

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear. 

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily. 

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.” 

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

#siriusblack #sirius black one shot #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black blurb #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black fic #sirius black x black!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x yn #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #marauders era #marauders fluff #dad!marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp marauders #jily fic #sirius black

[theamazingannie]

I’m a sucker for musical parallels and referencing an old song in a new song but I feel like this TTPD lead up is not just a “this is how I used to feel and now I’m using those themes to show how I feel now” and more of a “those feelings were never real and actually those love songs that were so beautiful before are actually about a bad relationship and full of red flags” cuz it’s honestly ruining my feelings on those old songs. Like Taylor’s whole thing is letting us interrupt the songs and apply them to our own lives and now it’s like even she is encouraging us to only see them through the lens of her most recent breakup and it really sucks tbh

#like when it was just fans being swifties I could ignore it and keep believing they were good love songs #but now that those Apple Music playlists came out and these songs are being sorted through different lenses #it feels like she wants us to look at those beautiful love songs differently and I hate it #taylor swift #ttpd #like I’d make jokes and talk about her personal life #and look at her songs and be like hmmm maybe that’s what she meant by this #but mostly her songs were always separate from her real life relationships #(otherwise I wouldn’t be able to love the speak now era love songs lmao) #I apply her songs to my characters #sweet nothing was the perfect song for one of my ocs who got famous and felt like he couldn’t be himself anymore #expect when he was with his bf who didn’t see him that way #and now I listen to it and I hear all those tweets saying ‘omg he didn’t love her and didn’t care about her and THATS what she was saying’ #and having lover being one of the top wedding songs of the 2020s #and the ‘at every table I’ll save you a seat’ now going from ‘I want you by my side always’ #to ‘I have to save it but you don’t show up cuz you’re never there for me’ #and lavender haze going from ‘we don’t need to be married to be in love and I just want to be with you #and I wish people would stay out of my private life’ #now being ‘I actually did want to get married and this was me just being in denial’ #it SUCKS #things were much easier when I was just playing my thoughts here rather than following fan pages on Twitter #I’ve met a lot of great people and learned some fun stuff but this is exhausting #I just want to listen to my favorite artist without analyzing every line to figure out if she really meant it like that #I love her for her ability to tel stories I can relate my characters to #that’s all I really want to do with her songs #makes me want to leave the fandom and just listen alone #but also doing that before made me miss album announcements and vault puzzles and other news #idk I’ll probably stay but it just really sours the whole experience for me #and I wish it didn’t

[lovebugism]

omggg im craving a halloween themed , rockstar!eddie x shy!reader at a halloween party , matching costumes and everything & he sees a ton of guys hitting on her & is like ???? my baby?

here you go lovie! hope you like it! — eddie takes his girl to a bar on halloween and gets jealous when guys hit on you like you're not already his (shy!reader, rockstar!eddie, established relationship, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The world didn’t know you before today.

You’ve been just Eddie Spaghetti’s girlfriend for so long — but now you’re Eddie Munson, up-and-coming rockstar and lead of Corroded Coffin’s girlfriend. The title carries a certain weight with it. You wear it with pride, but it weighs you down just the same. 

What’s weird about tonight, though, is you’re not sharing Eddie with the rest of the world like you thought you would. He’s having to share you, because everyone and their goddamn brother’s been all over you all night. 

Apparently, your coquettish rendition of The Bride of Frankenstein is making everyone else as crazy as it’s making him.

“God, go save your girlfriend, Munson,” Gareth jokes across the booth, laughing into his drink as he watches yet another guy stop you at the bar. “At least one of these assholes is gonna steal her from you.”

“She’s not property, dude. She can’t get stolen,” Jeff scolds from beside him, then flashes Eddie a sheepish glance. “But, yeah, the odds aren’t in your favor, Eds.”

Eddie pays no mind to his friends’ teasing — or the anger swirling like fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Nah. She’s alright…” he mumbles into the rim of his glass. The whiskey burns his throat going down. It doesn’t match the flame rising in his chest at the sight of his precious girl talking to some douchebag dressed like Elvis Presley.

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think you weren’t a hundred percent fine. These bozos aren’t trying anything with you — hell, they can barely make conversation with you. You’re just entertaining it because you’re the sweetest thing on the earth.

It’s laughable more than anything.

He’s humored by it all. Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.

“Yeah, who’s the famous one here, again?” Jeff’s girlfriend jokes. She’d left to go to the bathroom with you but came back alone when you got stuck with dollar-store Elvis. She points to the rest of them with a long, manicured finger. “It’s you guys, right? Because I can’t really tell.”

“Fuck off…” Eddie grouses, forcing a grin while the rest of them laugh.

You return then, with a drink in hand and a frown on your face at the sight of your suddenly grumpy boyfriend. “You okay?” you wonder quietly, smoothing down your skirt when you slide into the booth.

The boy moves over to make room for you. “‘M fine,” he answers with a mumble that makes you assume otherwise. 

You reach a hand to his face, smoothing fluffy curls behind his ear. His cheek is warm against your palm. His faded seafoam Frankenstein paint job smears on your wrist.

“‘M sorry for taking so long. Some guy stopped me on the way over. I didn’t wanna be rude.”

Eddie shakes his head. Not a single part of him blamed you.

“It’s okay, babe. Not your fault.” 

He’s full-on beaming now. Just because you called that asshole “some guy.” It feels good to hear you say that, to know that that’s all he is to you — just some fuckin’ guy. You won’t remember him later, if you still do even now.

Honestly, you’ll be lucky to remember your own name at the end of tonight.

“He get that drink for you?” Eddie asks, nodding to the frosted glass in your fist.

You shrug. “Yeah. He bought it, but I watched the bartender make it, so it’s fine.”

He nods, proud and sparkling with it. “Good.”

“What is it?” Gareth wonders, squinting across the table.

“An Old-Fashioned.”

“You hate whiskey,” Eddie laughs, licking the alcohol from the plush of his bottom lip.

“Well, yeah, but he asked what I liked, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him your favorite drink,” you ramble, all mousy, as you drag the falling sleeve of your corset back up your shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention.

Eddie’s grinning something fierce beside you. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks he might burst.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest fuckin’ thing?” he singsongs with a rosy grin, wrapping the ripped sleeve of his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

Then he kisses you. Like, really kisses you. 

It’s deep and intimate and sloppy. He opens your mouth with his and slithers his tongue inside. He tastes like bitter-sweet alcohol. You get drunk on him accordingly. 

The rest of the table gags.

Your lips click audibly when Eddie pulls away. His smile glistens with a mixture of your saliva, lips a deeper shade of pink and slightly swollen. You wipe your chin with the back of your mouth — some of Eddie’s face paint comes with it.

“Where’s he now?” the boy asks with a mischievous squint in his deep chocolate eyes.

You shrug, totally uncaring and just wanting to be kissed. “I dunno.”

“Still at the bar,” Gareth answers for you, snickering to himself. “Giving your girl the sex eyes.”

Your face screws up in disgust. “Sex eyes?” you repeat, nose scrunched.

The group laughs.

“Think you can get him to buy you a round? You know, for the table?” Eddie asks you. His fingers trace shapes on your bare shoulder. You have to fight back a shiver.

“You want me to go talk to him?” you gape, like you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I want you to go get us drinks, sweet thing. Work your magic, you know?”

He’s not in the most right headspace right now. You know this. He’s still high on the post-show adrenaline and mellow on the alcohol.  He’s jealous and in love with you and aflame with hatred for bootleg Elvis Presley. He gets rash when he’s raging, risky and unpredictable — a deadly concoction.

“Eds…” you hum quietly, brows scrunched like the idea pains you. “I don’t wanna make you mad…”

“You won’t make me mad, sweet thing,” Eddie assures, squeezing your shoulder. He presses a sanguine peck to your waiting mouth, then his voice gets all low. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll reward you after.”

He smacks one last kiss to your buzzing lips.

You blink at him until your senses return to you. You slide out from the booth and saunter back to Some Guy, who’s seemingly been waiting on your return this whole time. 

There’s a sudden sway to your hips now, but it’s not for him. 

It’s for Eddie.

The boy with the wild hair back at the booth, missing splotches of his face paint and wearing your lipstick knows this too.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

[arieslost]

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld

#full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fluff

[ghostfacd]

I’D BE THE MAN. | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. in which yn receives an unbelievable amount of hate, but she knows that if it were the other way around and she was a guy, they would praise her for being “the man”

installment of this au | read it for context!

ynuser tsitp behind the scenes!! 💌 sean and chris thought it was soooo funny to carry me at random times (thanks guys! very steven and conrad of you) 🤨🤨

tagged @/sean.kauf, @/chrisbriney_, @/thesummeriturnedpretty

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user1 anyone lwk think she’s a slut lol

➥ user2 no bae you’re so right cus why is she letting 2 different guys carry her when she’s literally dating tom

➥ user1 LMAOO real shes so ungrateful, if tom was my bf, i wouldn’t be around other guys

➥ user3 it’s literally?? for?? her?? work?? are you guys deluded, hating on successful women is crazy

➥ user 4 last time I checked, working does not = to whoring yourself with other guys

sean.kauf not our fault you’re easy to carry miss ella fisher

chrisbriney_ fave part of working on set is carrying u and hearing u scream

➥ user5 EVILLL

user6 the way she isn’t even replying to her cast mates are crazy, wake up! you’re not that famous

➥ user7 tbosas being #1 for movies says otherwise but ok!

tomblyth YN!!! My sweet, funny, and incredibly talented girl, congratulations for all you have accomplished. It’s been so much fun with you on the set of TBOSAS, and it’s been absolutely even more endearing to sit behind the scenes and watch you act for TSITP!! Ella Fisher is my favorite Fisher anyways :’)

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser TOM!! I love you.

➥ user8 only 4 words? oh she hates him 😭

➥ user9 when you would die for tom blyth to post you but y/n avocot doesn’t gaf when he posts her

➥ user10 literally not true? i’m sure she just doesn’t wanna put everything online, we can all tell that she loves him

rachelzegler you guys are the cutest!

➥ user11 is yn holding you hostage??

sean.kauf always love having you on set man

➥ user12 yn’s bf vs yn’s side guy LOL

➥ user13 knock it off, i bet tom wouldn’t like his “fans” disrespecting his gf and her cast members

user14 she never posts him istg this is so one sided

user15 she’s lucky she’s pretty cause she can’t act or sing for the life of her

➥ user16 not even pretty LOLLL

ynuser since everyone thinks i’m so ungrateful, TOM!!! Thank you for always being there for me and comforting me when i’m sad. You’re my best friend and the best boyfriend I could ask for. I love you my love.

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user17 LMAOO yn called y’all out!

tomblyth i love you in every universe, the haters are LAMEEE!!

➥ user18 YOU TELL THEM TOM

VOGUE New Interview And Photo Shoot With New Star Y/N Avocot OUT NOW! The New Actress And Rising Music Star Shares Her Recent Favorite Song — “The Man” By Taylor Swift!

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user19 the man by taylor oml she’s going through it

user20 idk how anyone could hate her, she’s so sweet and gorgeous

user21 miserable ppl on the internet after hating on a girl for no reason other than that she’s close to her cast members

ynuser thank you for having me Vogue!

ynuser if i was a man, then’d i’d be the man!

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iloveyn PURRR YN I LOVE UUUU

tomblyth hell ya u would

sean.kauf queen i miss u, come back to film szn 2

➥ bellyconklinsgf WAIT SZN 2???

➥ sean.kauf oh shit..

➥ ynuser HAHA SEAN THE DIRECTOR AND JENNY HAN ARE GONBA KILL U

user22 so she replies to sean but not tom?? 🤡

➥ user23 LET IT GOOOOOO

user24 i love to see successful women not letting haters tear them down

user25 we love you yn!!!

rachelzegler ID BE THE MAAAAANNNN

#we love successful women!! #Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day ten

kink: voyeurism with jeongin

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. jeongin is a bit of a creep. slight sub!innie. afab!reader.

jeongin was an amazing roommate. he was a perfect roommate, by all means. he cooked and cleaned up after himself, he never walked past the foyer with his shoes on, he left little notes for you all over the place with badly drawn foxes on them. he watched your favorite shows and cuddled you when you were sad, even though he claims that he doesn’t like skinship. 

he never does anything to make you uncomfortable, easing your worries about living with a guy. he respects your boundaries, and apologizes immediately if he ever breaks them accidentally. the only problem you could think of was your insurmountable crush on him that would never amount to anything, but you were doing your best to get over it. despite never bringing anyone else home, he never showed any interest in you. 

or, so you thought. 

you had found it a little weird to masturbate when you had first moved in together; you had never had a roommate before, so you didn’t really know the social cues around this kind of thing. as long as he didn’t know, it wouldn’t be a problem right?

you had started doing it only when he wasn’t home, and while you weren’t addicted to orgasms once every couple weeks wasn’t enough sometimes. you’d wait until he went to sleep, but he had the annoying habit of needing to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were always scared when you heard his footsteps outside of your room as he was stumbling to your shared bathroom across the hall. eventually, you got comfortable enough that you just did it whenever you pleased, knowing that if he caught you the only thing that would happen was a teasing remark here and there about it. 

sometimes his footsteps would pause right outside your door, like he was checking to see if he had accidentally woken you up. you thought it was kind of sweet, at first. but he would linger, to the point where you thought that he could have been sleep-walking. you would pause with your dildo halfway inside of you or frantically turn off your vibrator and wait with paused breath until he walked away, and you would sigh into your pillow. it felt wrong to continue, but the fight between your embarrassment and a potential orgasm usually ended up with the latter as the winner. 

you think you knew what he was doing far earlier than now, but some sick part of your mind liked it too much to fully identify it. he was listening to you, he probably had his ear pressed up to the door to hear the way your breath would catch when you twisted your dildo just right or the whines you couldn’t hold back when you finally came. 

you suppose your lack of confrontation made him a bit bolder, because his steps started getting a little louder and you began seeing the shadow of his feet under your door. 

you waited, day after day, for him to slip up so that you could finally catch him in the act, wanting to reveal him with his hands painted red. the opportunity came on an otherwise unassuming day, with you lying on your back with your hands between your naked legs and your shirt bunched up under your neck - his phone pinged. a loud, lingering bell-like sound that seemed to echo through your room. you hear him curse under his breath and move to do what you hope is turning off the sound of his notifications. he doesn’t move, both of your breaths are held as you wait for something, but he lets his out earlier and remains at the door. 

you slide off the bed, leaving your dildo on the sheets that you’d definitely need to wash after this and padding to your door on socked feet. you’re quiet, your steps not making a sound as you creep your hand to the door and wrench it open to reveal jeongin almost leaning up into the space the door just was in. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his eyes walking down to your bare legs and the hem of your t-shirt just covering your dripping pussy. 

he shifts on his legs, eyes widening a bit as the shock of being caught settles in. 

“i-” he starts, his words getting stuck in his throat. what would he even have to say about this? how could he possibly explain this violation of privacy, even if you weren’t nearly as bothered by it as you should be?

“what are you doing?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was up to but wanting to hear him say it himself. 

“i was,” he clears his throat, a red flush making its way up his neck. “sleepwalking?”

“hmm, i don’t think so,” you wave your hand towards him, gesturing to the way he was clearly very aware of his surroundings. “do you know what i think? i think you were being a creepy, disgusting man and listening to me while i masturbated. and not for the first time.”

“shit,” he squeezes his eyes shut, tight like he was trying to cut his vision of you off permanently. the two of you sit in excruciatingly silence for a moment, him opening and closing his mouth a few times, scrambling to find something to say. “i’m so sorry-“

“do you want to watch?” you ask, cutting off his useless apology, the words leaving your mouth before you can think about what you’re offering. “i didn’t finish.”

“what?” he asks, the disbelievement overriding the panic on his face. “you just found out that i’ve been a creep and you’re offering me to do that?”

“i’m going to come with or without you,” you eye his crotch, his cock tenting up in his sweatpants, and you can almost see the timer in his head run out before he brushes past you into your room. “and give me some credit; i’ve known about you for weeks. you’re not as sly as you think you are.”

he ignores you in favor of crashing into your desk chair, a place he’s sat in several times before but never for this. you crawl back onto the bad, resuming the position you were in before. you keep your shirt further down this time though, covering you until your lower belly. 

you felt so exposed like this, despite him having heard you do this before it was different having him see it, witness you sliding your dildo into your hole right in front of him. the fit feels tighter, the give is harder as you fit it inside of you - was it nervousness? you’ve never had trouble with this particular toy before. 

when it bottoms out he whines, his hand moving to his crotch before moving away, like he was looking for some kind of permission. cute, you think, now he’s looking for approval. 

“you can touch yourself,” you say, words catching on your own pleasure as you begin to pump the dildo in and out of you, faster with each thrust. there’s a wet patch shining through his sweatpants now, and you feel a little bit of pity for him. “take your cock out and show me how hard i make you.”

you don’t know where these words are coming from, you’ve never been this bold in your life, always relying on partners to bring dirty talk to the table, but he had this way of bringing out sides of you that you never thought were possible. 

“fuck,” he takes his cock out, stroking it a couple times before rubbing his thumb over his slit to collect the moisture there. “i can’t believe i’m doing this, feels like a dream.”

“try harder,” you groan out, throwing your head back when you twist your wrist just right. 

“think about you all the time,” he says, almost babbling, his eyes never leaving your pussy as he strokes himself faster. “want to do so many things to you, can’t get you out of my head.”

“tell me,” you breathe out, the idea of him thinking about you making your head spin in circles. 

“do you know how fucking hot you are, walking around without a bra all the time?” he sighs, his hand not losing pace on his cock. “i want to squeeze your tits, whenever i want. when i walk past you, when we’re sitting on the couch together, when you’re asleep next to me, fuck.”

you want to say do it, i want you to, it’s all i want, but he keeps going. 

“when you wear those short, the tiny ones,” his eyes stray to your thighs, the soft, unmarked skin there. “want to pull you down into my lap, leave bruises on your legs that last for days.” 

“keep going,” you all but beg, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you’ve lost control of the situation but you don’t really care. “please.”

“when- when you’re in the shower, and you make those noises,” he’s visibly affected by how close you are, by the way you throw your head back when you move your free hand to rub at your clit. “wanna get in there with you, want to hear you moan and whine and press you up against the shower wall-”

you cut him off with a gasped out fuck as you finally come, wrenching the dildo out as your hips buck up. you keep your fingers circling your clit as you ride it out, but you keep your eyes on him so you can see him come except -

he doesn’t. his hand is off of his dick and he’s clenching the armrests of the chair like he would pass out if he wasn’t. you fix him with a look when you come down from your high, confused and a little offended. 

“i didn’t want to-“ he starts, looking away with a flush to his cheeks. “i didn’t know if i was allowed.”

“oh, honey,” you melt, emotions bubbling up in your chest. he’s so cute. “of course you’re allowed. but wouldn’t you rather fuck me instead of your hand?”

--

kinktober masterlist

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #kinktober 2023 #stray kids x y/n #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you

[laenordeservedbetter]

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians

[iliektehhaxs]

Cockwarming with the MK1 boys

Kuai Liang

Cockwarming? Never heard of it.

You have to explain it before the visual clicks in his head, and it’s only then you see him nod in agreement.

Surprisingly receptive to the idea, it doesn’t take him much convincing. He enjoys the idea of close intimacy.

When would you like to start?

“Now? If you say so, little bird.”

There’s a peace that blooms in him, despite the salacious position you’re in. Hands rubbing into your bare back, nose buried into your neck as he inhales your scent, the hitch in your breath as you adjust yourself on his length.

It would be relaxing, if the feeling of your pussy wasn’t currently driving him up a wall. Everything is heightened this way, every breath making you clench against him, every movement making him shudder in bliss, a repetitive loop of sensations that keep the both of you trapped in each other’s embrace.

You move, he follows. You whimper, and he tastes the sounds on his tongue. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where he wakes up and the first thing he feels is the warmth of your cunt.

Bi-Han

Confusion is painted on his face when you tell him your idea.

Eyebrows raised, he didn’t know you to be the type to be so forward, surprised at just how eager you were.

“Hm, seems simple enough.”

At first he didn’t understand the appeal—if you wanted to have sex he could easily hold you hostage to the bed.

But fine, he would indulge you.

As it turned out you are far more creative than he gives you credit for. He might enjoy this newfound position more than he thought.

Every time you squirm, it’s another slap to your ass. The sound rings loudly in your ears, the clash of skin only dwarfed by your whimpering.

“Bi-Han, please—“ you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, scared to move anymore in fear of your husband’s wrath. “Just a little bit, I need more—“

Another hand comes down on your backside. You jump in response, then shiver when Bi-Han’s cold hands soothe the aching flesh.

“You decided the rules darling, no moving.”

You almost want to argue, but the look in his eyes freezes you in place. You’re forced to obey, shaking with anticipation for the moment Bi-Han finds you ready and fucks you like you need.

Tomas

“You want to what?”

Poor Tomas, his face turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He has to ask you to repeat yourself to make sure he heard you correctly.

When you do he becomes even more flustered, but it does spark a certain…curiosity.

He’s open to anything when it comes to you, and he would be a liar if he said otherwise.

As sweet as Tomas can be, it’s like he’s a different person when you’re like this—possessive, greedy even. He holds you by your ass and refuses to let go, kissing at your face when you shudder at the feeling of his cock inside you.

So big, so fucking full.

“Is this what you had in mind?” He grunts, barely stopping his hips from forcing you to bounce on his length. You can see it in his eyes, the barely-held back urge to dig his fingers into your skin and fuck you like he wants to, it’s only your pleas that keep him complacent for the time being.

You see shades of the sweet man you’ve come to love, almost overshadowed by the lust that pools in his very being. He wants to cum so bad, but more than that he wants to be good for you.

Johnny Cage

“You’re not kidding right? Please tell me it isn’t April.”

He’s over the moon, he’s actually thought about it before but was worried you wouldn’t be up for it.

But hearing you ask for it? You’ve given him far too much freedom, and you might regret that in the future.

Safe to say that it becomes his new favorite pastime.

Johnny was the one who invited you over in the first place, something about “needing to focus on his newest script.” A very obvious lie, but you suppose that hindsight is 20/20, especially where your boyfriend is concerned.

Instead of focusing on memorizing his lines, he instead memorizes what makes you tick, what buttons he has to press before you’ve become a writhing mess in his arms, how far you fall on his cock before your legs start shaking.

“Can’t help it baby,” he says, rutting into you softly. “You’re just feel too damn good.”

You almost want to beg him to fuck you, but you know him better than anyone—if Johnny says he’s going to keep you on his lap, he means it. So even if he’s barely focused on the script in his hands, you can be sure as hell you’re going to be sat on his cock until he’s had his fun.

Kenshi Takahashi

He laughs a bit, entertained at the thought.

You, sat pretty in his lap? It makes his heart beat faster.

He asks if you know what you’re getting yourself into, asking him a question like that, but your excited nod is enough of an answer for him.

“Okay then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Kenshi feels the heat that spreads through your body, a benefit of losing his sight. He knows all your weak points, his heightened senses aware of every reaction you have to his touch.

He knows you better than you know yourself, even without sento he knows how desperate you are to move.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

He coos in your ear, tattooed hands rubbing circle against your shaking hips, a gentle squeeze reminding you to keep still. You nod in reply, but it doesn’t stop the soft noises leaving your lips.

Raiden

Turns into a shade of pink you didn’t know existed

Lost for words, it takes him a moment to register what you’ve said before responding

“Well, if you’re interested, I wouldn’t mind…”

Poor man, he doesn’t know how to express himself, but he is very on-board!

He tries his best, really he does, but how exactly is he supposed to stay still when you pulse around him so deliciously?

He knows he’s supposed to enjoy this, but being unable to move is driving him up a wall. You have to scold him like a child every time his hips try to move higher.

He stares at the ceiling, head tilted backwards in an attempt to calm down his racing heartbeat, afraid that even the sight of you will make him lose control. In, out, his breathing is labored, your voice doing nothing to quell his urges.

“Relax baby,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “We still have the rest of the night.”

Kung Lao

You’ve never seen him smile that wide before.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

If you didn’t ask him, he would’ve. He’s just glad you saved him the effort.

The moment you two walk into the bedroom he’s pawing at your pants. He’s impatient, and can you blame him?

“Kung Lao, calm down!”

You try to plead with your boyfriend, but it goes in one ear and out the other. What was meant to be a relaxing past time is now a struggle to keep his wandering hands to himself.

“Come on, don’t you want me to touch you?” He teases. His lips find their way to your nipple, lapping at the pebbled nub while his fingers slide between the two of you.

“This wasn’t the plan,” you whine in response, unknowingly pressing yourself into his greedy fingers. “I wanted us to enjoy this…”

“And we will,” he promises, circling your clit with a twinkle in his eye. “Just want you to feel as good as possible baby.”

Liu Kang

He’s heard of the act before, but never really gave it any thought.

“You sound like you’ve thought about this often, darling.”

He can’t help but tease you a bit, but he’s completely in agreement.

When he has a moment of free time he invites you to sit on his lap, grinning when his fingers dance across your skin.

For a god, Liu Kang sure can be a tease.

In his private quarters he keeps you close to him, one of the rare moments where he has no obligations and can simply enjoy himself. You thought this would be a perfect time to act on your little suggestion, and he thought the same.

Where you erred however, is misjudging a god’s patience.

Two hours ago you eagerly stripped for your husband, and in those two hours you’ve been left teetering on the edge, every time you close your eyes for a moments peace Liu Kang finds it fit to let his fingers remind you of where you are.

A repetitive cycle with no end in sight.

Your clit throbs with an incessant need, but you’re unable to do anything except take what he gives.

Syzoth

Beg your pardon?

You literally see his pupils dilate at the thought

“Really? Are you sure?”

He has his own misgivings about the idea, still ashamed of his ancestry as a Zaterran. It took him a while to become intimate with you but this…

You assure him that this is something you want, and he eventually agrees.

You gently coax Syzoth onto the bed, making your hips flush with his. You can see the doubt begin to flood his mind, until you drag his hands from the bed and onto your body.

“There’s no rush baby,” you murmur, resting your head on his chest. “Let’s just stay like this, hm?”

You hear his heartbeat return to its natural rhythm, his hands slowly brushing against your spine. Tentative, testing the waters, as if you’d shatter if he held you too tight. As the minutes pass he becomes more comfortable with your position, the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

“I admit, there is something very peaceful about this…” he hums. You make a noise in agreement.

#is this late because this is a day after valentines? yes it is #let’s just pretend I posted this on time <3333 #robo writes #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #subzero x reader #scorpion x reader #liu kang x reader #syzoth x reader #raiden x reader #tomas x reader #kenshi x reader #johnny cage x reader #kung lao x reader

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Who hurt you?

— yandere dad-ghost x gn teenager reader

Summary || You come home bloodied and bruised from school. While getting patched up by your dad, you reveal things

A/N || This is one of my favorite fics atm. Idk why but seeing soft dad ghost?? Yeah. That's how to do, my heart is. Anyway, enjoy 😉

Warnings || details of being hurt/bullied, blood, hints that ghost kills, and comfort.

Copper and sharpie. That’s all you can smell. The stench has embossed itself on your clothes, your flesh, and inside your nostrils. It was embarrassing really, coming home after being chased by bullies. 

They slapped you to the ground. Laughed in your face as the girls kept you from getting up, sitting directly on your chest. They pulled out permanent markers and drew foul things on your face, arms, and legs. 

Knead your stomach and kicked you. All you wanted was to hang out with them.

Silence settles between the bathroom, hearing your dad — Simon Riley, Ghost or a big Kodiak bear you like to call him, go through his bedroom, the sounds of his drawers opening and closing as he huffs loudly.

You heard the cruel rumors of your reputation. It was a gnawing sort of feeling of betrayal. One that ate away at your very soul and left nothing but pain in its wake. The action alone may not be the worst thing in the entire world. But what made betrayal ache was that in the past, in its place, was trust.

The rumors of you spread like a disease; whispers in the school of ‘slut’ and ‘freak’. Everyone looked at you like something else. Even teachers scoffed at you. You thought you could handle it, until today. It’s expected for your favorite shirt to be stained — again. 

You didn’t want to hear your dads voice. Him being incredibly disappointed in you. 

You leaned your head on the back of the toilet, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to come in. It was long, just like the torture you’d endured hours before. 

“What happened?” 

You stayed quiet, continuing to look up at the white ceiling before turning your head to the side, looking at him in the doorway with half-lidded eyes. He’s leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest; almost like he’s disappointed. But his voice says otherwise. 

“Kiddo, what happened?” he re-asks, his boots creaking with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space toward you. 

You stayed quiet, making him stare at you before sighing. 

He opened the bottom of the sink, grabbed the med kit and seized the necessary items before turning on the faucet, grabbing another dark rag due to the one you’re holding already used; stained with markers, blood, and some snot.  

Your dad clicked his tongue, “What the hell happened?”

“M’ don’t wanna talk about it,” 

“You worried me,” your dad voiced, using your name. You considered his words carefully, staring at your lap, legs, and arms littered with all kinds of marks. 

“You also worry too much,” you pointed out, watching him kneel before you. 

He steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn’t speak; at first, silence hangs between you, once again as throws it away; grabbing the cloth into the sink. Then, he soaks it until it’s dripping, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint color and standing out against his pale skin.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he directs, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. “I thought something happened. Which did.”

You stayed quiet for a second. “… I didn’t mean to scare you,” you whisper. 

You can see his brown eyes narrow, his mind occupied by something. Clearly, he’s angry. And who wouldn’t? Finding your kid barely able to stand up, laying against the wall for help covered in bruises and blood, was a frightening sight. Especially with his type of job, anything is possible. 

The pressure of the cloth against your face is so delicate, almost like he’s appearing afraid to hurt you — gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline as well as the drawings. He shakes his head gently, considering your words. “Not your fault, kiddo.”

He then grabbed your arm, rotating your wrist as he examined the bruises and forming – you watched his face fill with fury.

“Who did this to you?” he seethed, voice deep and low, a tone you’d heard not so much before. 

You shook your head, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. But it didn’t satisfy him, he called your name, demanding you to look at him. Tears were already falling before more words curled out of his mouth.

At long last, finally with the adrenaline and frightened state going away, you let your guard down, letting tears pour down your eyes. It stung, face hurting more than you’d like. But you didn’t care. You needed to cry.

Your hands went up to wipe away the tears, but before you can hit your sore cheeks, he’s capturing you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. He doesn’t say anything, letting your head rest on his shoulder. All you required at this moment was to be held, to know you were loved. And that he wasn’t mad — never at you. 

He rubbed your back, kissing the side of your head as you cried out more — sobbing turned into occasional hiccups and gasps, then sniffles and permanent hiccups that he would occasionally let out a chuckle on. 

“Ready to talk about it, kid?” He asks cautiously, prodding but patient. You only sigh softly before looking up at him, quickly noticing the snot and tears stained into his gray hoodie. 

“It’s just…” you pause, trying to find the right words to say. “Things have been rough, lately. School has been hard. Everything seems to be going wrong. Especially with the other kids.”

His eyes squint as he listens to you speak, the hazel color meeting your own, leaving you choking in your words. He’s your dad. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling him. But what if—?

“—And I know that being a teenager is hard. But, I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to see them.” you trail off, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as you feel your eyes swell up once more.

His thumb catches them before they fall, however, and you smile at him for a moment before continuing.

“I’m scared to go back,” you whisper brokenly. 

For a moment, the bathroom is silent, but all at once your dad’s arms are tightly around you in a hug. All-encompassing, it only makes you cry once more. Your head slumps over, forehead pressing into his shoulder – his hand pressing against the back of your neck.

“How long has it been happening?” 

You shrug your shoulders, digging yourself deeper into his shoulder. “Long enough, I guess…”

“Kiddo…” he starts, sighing out of defeat. “Shit- I’m sorry for not noticing. Le’s keep you home, mkay’?” 

“Okay,” you whisper, but that’s good enough for him. His hands started rubbing your back, before reaching over for the rag on the counter — continuing to clean up the stained marks and your irritated cheeks.

“Do you need me to do anything?” he says, his tone hardened. From the looks of it, he had a plan. But, you knew or not. His face was unreadable at times. 

You shook your head, before hissing out at the soaped cloth on your cheek. He gently moved your hair out of the way, just enough to expose the wound near your eye. 

“Sorry. Need to make sure it won’t get infected.” 

Before you know it, he was done. Already putting the first aid kit back under the sink and throwing the used cloth into the wash. “Tell ya’ what,” he says, making you raise your eyebrows. Though, he pulled his cracked-screen phone from his pocket, the exact one he’s had for years and the one you’ve begged to get a new one. 

He offers it to you, already on the phone on. More often or not, he didn’t let you snoop through it. Licensed files detailed in the phone. Plus, the last time you played a prank on him with it, he grounded you — for two weeks. 

“W-hat do you want me to… do?” you stammered questioningly, hesitantly grabbing it before looking at the screen. Then back at him.

“Order pizza. Get whatever you want.”

Your eyes widened, a smile widening to which he chuckled at. “There you are,” he says fondly, hand brushing your hair back. “You get whatever, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say, the first true smile forming today.

You got up, eagerly running out of the bathroom and downstairs as Simon yelled a small ‘watch it!’. As he gets up from his knees, he walked into his office – making sure to hear that you’re calling the pickup line before ringing Price.

He immediately answered, asking what he needed. From the way you described their name-calling, the images of you sobbing as he held you, anger filled his veins, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist with rage. 

“I need a favor.” 

And weeks later, the news began talking about a murder spree – snapping you out of your thoughts, only to see both of your ex-friends, and those teachers on TV. A pang of guilt set through you. But, beside you, your dad had a huge smile; one that was promising to never let anyone hurt you.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

#the icons are not mine #they belong to their rightful owners #kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere ghost #dad ghost #yandere ghost x reader #yandere simon riley #yandere mw2 #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #yandere x teenager reader #platonic yandere mw2 #yandere platonic #ghost mw2 #ghost x kid reader #ghost x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #mw2 ghost #cod x reader #platonic mw2 #ghost x gn reader

[luverboychris]

HATE ME PT. 2 | MATT STURNIOLO

IN WHICH.. things are complicated when two friends in the same group like you. one being your secret fuck buddy.

dom!matt x fem reader, secret fuckbuddy, fingering. — 2850 words

read part 1 if you haven’t already

nerves rush to your core as you prepare yourself for a long and excruciating night. you got stuck in a ‘double date’ with cole, and matt bringing along the girl from the bar. not only did you know you had to contain your jealousy all night, you had to be nice and friendly to matt to not cause further problems.

you were all going to an arcade with drinks, games, and your absolute favorite— pool. what could go wrong? you knew you were strong enough to go one night without getting jealous, without daydreaming about how matt talks with his veiny hands, the way he fixes his hair at any giving moment….

“after you m’lady.” cole says while opening the door for you. you nod your head and flash him a smile as you walk inside the arcade.

cole trails right behind you before he gets shoulder to shoulder with you. “they have to be here already, and matt probably finished all the points we have on the card.” he laughs.

you cross your arms, attempting to warm up your chilly body because too many thoughts were running through your head. and of course, every thought had something to do with matt.

you wonder what he decided to wear tonight.. if he's flirted with this girl yet.. if he's thinking about you instead when he hears her laugh. because you know one time matt mentioned that he craves to make you laugh..

cole points and smiles when he finally sees matt across the arcade “ahh there he is!” he exclaims. you attempt to pause your thoughts, looking to where he is pointing.

there. there was matt and the girl playing pool together. this shouldn’t have had made you as mad as it did. maybe it did because he knows how much you adore playing pool. or maybe because you see them laughing away when she accidentally hits his ball in. god, this sight physically pained you.

you try to calm yourself down by interlinking your arms with cole’s as you walk over to the pool table. before you or cole were able to let out a word to get their attention, matt looks up from the table to you both. you catch his eyes go from you, down to your arms that were now inked with his friends. matt licks his lips, fidgeting with the pool stick in his hand.

“happy you guys made it.” matt throws out into the air. was he really happy though? because his facial expressions said otherwise.

cole unlocks your arms so he can dap up matt. “sorry for being late.. y/n wouldn’t come out of her dorm.” he laughs. you playfully roll your eyes. it wasn’t your fault you were trying to look good tonight.. but for the person who wasn’t your date.

and fuck why did matt have to look so good? matt purposely wore this exact baseball hat tonight because he remembered the time you told him it turns you on. and it was working.. the way his brunette curls were popping out on each side of his hat was your favorite part about the look.

but you couldn’t even talk because you also purposely wore something that you knew matt would get riled up for. a pair of jeans that you own that are matt's absolute favorite. he loves how it hugs your hips.. how your ass looks in them. he just wants to slap it any chance he can get, and it was killing him that he couldn’t do it right now.

you and cole join in on the pool game, playing against them. you grab the pool stick and bend down towards the green fabric table, finding a good position to get your striped ball in.

“wait here, do this..” cole says, walking behind you and wrapping his arm over yours to assist you. you feel his whole body pressed against your back, making you turn your head back to look at him because you weren’t expecting it.

the moment his arm went over yours, matt’s face went entirely red as he paced from side to side. he licks his teeth, causing a tsk to escape his pink lips. he was fucking furious, raging with jealousy.

“like this?” you ask. you didn’t mean for it to come out seductively, but it did. and of course matt heard the tone of it, making him even more mad.

“exactly like that y/n.” cole whispers in your ear. the way matt wanted to rip cole’s hands off you immediately, he was getting sick to his stomach seeing this.

“i think that’s enough.” matt snaps, “i’m pretty sure she knows how to play.” he adds with such snark.

possessive matt. so damn attractive.

cole says nothing but laughs, walking backwards from you. you lift your eyes up to see matt across the pool table. the lamp above making his jawline stand out more than usual. your low cut white shirt making your chest openly exposed for his eyes only. it was making him go absolutely crazy. he wanted to pull all your clothes off and fuck you on the pool table right then and there.

his brain was honestly about to explode at this point. he thought you looked so sexy playing pool, especially when you pull your arm back and hit your ball directly into the pocket.

“damn babe!” cole exclaims, going in to kiss your cheek. while matt is poking his cheek with his tongue, trying to hold himself together.

“ya, nice shot y/n.” matt mutters. you throw them both a thank you. but you weren’t dumb, you know all of this was getting to matt and you were thoroughly enjoying it.

matt’s date takes her turn, having difficulty in holding the pool stick. you would think matt would help her like cole did with you in order to get back at you for your flirting.. but he didn’t even move from his spot.

instead, the kindness of cole helped her out. cole was into helping her, as they both were deeply concentrated on the game. you watch them, then matt starts to creep his way to stand next to you. you look up to give him a quick glance before focusing back on the game.

matt couldn’t help but bite his lip, you were turning him on without even trying at this point. his intrusive thoughts got to the best of him as he sneakily brought his tattoo’d arm down to your ass. you flinch at the contact, throwing him a widened eye gaze.

“let me.” he whispered to you. you look around, seeing everyone engaged in their own conversations and playing arcade games. you switch your eyes onto cole and matt’s date.. seeing him still help her.

you gulp, looking down at the floor. he keeps his hand there, gripping your ass before smacking it lightly but still enough for you to feel the burning sensation from his big hands.

“you fucking tease.” he mumbles, as he goes in to slap your ass again. he wanted to do this all night.

“stop it before someone catches us.” you mutter to him.

“look me in the eyes and tell me you actually want me to stop.” he says. his hand still pressed against your ass. chills form all over your body with how flustered you were.

you don’t look at him, still watching the game trying not to cause a scene around you two. he grins, “look at you.. not even able to make eye contact with me.” he whispers.

“matt.. shut up.” you say through your teeth. his hand makes his way up to your waist, rubbing your skin underneath your white tanktop.

“absolutely not.” he says. he just knew exactly the right buttons to push when it came to you.

you started to become anxious, actually feeling like one of them would catch him being all over you. so, you grab his hand from your back and pull it off you.

couple hours later after, stuffed from all the food and tired from all the arcade games you played.. it was finally time to leave.

“i had so much fun.” matt’s date says. you didn’t want to come off mean so you smiled and agreed. but, you hated her guts. any girl who was remotely close with matt, you hated.

you four walk out of the place, standing in front of the arcade. cole intertwines his fingers with yours, as he looks at you.

“i’m really sorry but i have to drop something off at my parents before i take you back y/n, is that okay?.” cole says.

“that’s totally fine—”

matt cuts you off, “you know, i can take her back to her dorm. not a problem with me.”

“wow you sure man? thanks.” cole replies, patting matt’s shoulder with a smile.

“no need to thank me.” matt says. if anything, matt wanted to thank him for finally letting him have the opportunity to be alone with you.

you all walk to the parking lot, saying bye to cole before he drives off. matt exchanges goodbyes with his date.

finally. what matt was waiting for all night.

you sit in the passenger seat while matt starts his car. before he turns his music on, he looks to you. “what did i tell you about having other guys have their hands on you?” he says.

“matt seriously? that’s what you have to say?” you scoff.

“i fucking told you. i told you you’re only mine and you still went and let another man put his hands on you.” he says, “oh, not only that.. you let him hold hands with you and he fucking kissed you on the cheek...” he adds.

his face was getting back to that familiar red you saw earlier.. it was attractive to say the least. “im sorry.” you say.

“and don’t even get me started with your outfit.” he says. he was getting hard just replaying you being bent over the pool table earlier.

“i could say the same shit. look at you with that baseball hat. you know how that makes me feel.” you snap.

“how does it make you feel?” he teases.

“you can’t do that. stop.” you say.

“baby you don’t want me to stop, you love it.” he says, “now tell me, how does it make you feel?”

you sigh loudly, giving in to matt and his teasing ways. “it makes me want you.. makes me wet for you.” you say. matt’s famous smirk comes back on his face after he heard the truth.

“hmmm.” is all that comes out of his mouth. he takes his hat off, fixing his post messy hat hair quickly. he sticks his hand out and puts the hat on you.

“you want me to fuck you while you have my hat on baby?” the way he said it wasn’t even a question, it was as if that’s what he was set on and you had to be down for it. and of course you were into it. you were into anything with him.

“now look how sexy you are wearing my hat.” he says, licking his upper lip at you. his seductive blue eyes looking deep into yours, his pupils easily increasing in size with how infatuated he was with you. all of his vocalization towards you was making you become more wet for him by the second.

you quickly hide your blushed face from matt with your shaky hands. he soon grabs them away from you so he can take a good look at you. “don’t fucking hide that pretty face from me.” he demands. you obey his commands and keep your hands to your side.

“good girl.” matt says.

you couldn’t lie to yourself any longer, you were soaked from all of this sexual tension in the car and you just wanted him to throw his hands around your neck and kiss you.

you realize matt started to babble on about things from tonight, but you completely cut out his voice and only focus on his lips. how beautiful they look with the moon shining through his car window.

“matt..” you whisper.

matt stops midsentance, “what?” he cluelessly says. it was funny to see him be like this since he was so cocky and dominant 99% of the time yet he was acting like a teddybear.

“just kiss me already.” you reply. now he was the one who obeys your commands and wasted no time to lean in to connect his lips to yours.

if felt as if a magnet was attaching your lips because neither of you could pull away. you open your mouth to give his yearning tongue the entrance of heaven. he then intertwines his tongue with yours before letting his teeth bite your bottom lip. you love when he teasily bites your lip, your lip quickly bounces back to its relaxing position and the feeling of swelling rushes to your mouth.

“i just wanted to kiss these lips throughout the whole fucking double date.” matt whispers in between sloppy kisses. you let his veiny hands explore the body he truly desires as he grips onto your clothed thighs.

“want my face buried between these.” he whispers again, lightly slapping the outside of your thighs.

“i want it too baby.” you moan out. you loved how him slapping any part of your body felt, but especially your ass and thighs. and of course that was his favorite thing to do.

as matt attaches his lips back to yours, he sneaks his hand up to the top of your jeans and quickly gives it a tug. you nod into the kiss for consent, making matt unzip your jeans with his eyes still closed taking them off you. you wiggle out of them completely, leaving you in your white tanktop and laced thong.

both of your eyes remain closed with passion while making out with one another, he brings his left arm and rubs you through your underwear going up and then down.

your thong being completely wet by how turned on he was making you throughout the date and now feeling each other up in his car. he teases you for a little before fully sliding your thong to one side and letting your pussy on display for him.

he rubs your sensitive clit in circular motions, causing you to let out a high pitch moan. “fuck, don’t make those noises around me. i’m already too horny for you.” he groans.

his full attention was on your clit now, looking down with his mouth slightly open due to how in love he was with the sight. he rubs it one last time before sliding down the smallest amount until his two fingers go fully inside you. you gasp, and matt looks up at you for reassurance that he was doing a good job.

and he was.. you loved his fingers inside you. you wanted them in you at any time of the day. you always thought he had the sexiest hands known to man, and you stood by that.

he lets your walls adjust to his fingers being inside you, and then gets the signal that he can start going as fast and deep as he wants. he knew exactly what he was doing, keeping a steady pace and rhythm that you simply were obsessed with.

“mmm, fuck matt keep doing it just like that.” you moan. he licks his lips, doing exactly as you told him and stays fingering you exactly as he was doing prior.

“just like that baby?” he reassures himself. you give him a nod with your bottom lip tucked in your top teeth because you were overstimulated with pleasure. he absolutely loves the validation of knowing he was doing a good job on making you feel good.

“no, say it.” he mumbles, his fingers fucking you just a tad faster.

“y-yes, yes. i said just like that fuck.” you whimper. he grins at you, still fingering you like no other man has.

he thought you looked so hot while whimpering, with your eyebrows knitted together and your face flushed a crimson red. he couldn’t help himself and go to kiss you all over while his two fingers were still going in and out of your pussy.

“matt, i’m about to..” you cry out.

that makes matt start to suck on the delicate skin on your neck, making a dark hickey appear. the pleasure from two places sent you over the edge, causing your walls to clench up on matt’s fingers.

“finish for me baby.” he groans over your skin. and those words were your last straw, making you finish while his fingers were still in you.

moans escape your lips and you feel matt smile while hovering over your neck. he was proud of himself, but he always is because he makes you finish every time you two are alone.

“i love how i can make you finish even with just my two fingers.” he flaunts.

you slap his chest playfully, your cheeks going that familiar red that they always transform to when you’re with matt.

“shut up.” you laugh. matt leans in to kiss your lips again.

“make me.” he teases.

─── aid speaks ᝰ.ᐟ ───

╰┈ ⌞₊˚ est. march 14th, 2024🗒 ˎˊ˗ ⌝

ahhh i was too lazy for them to fuck sorry please love me. not proofread i couldn’t be asked. i hope u guys enjoyed idk why i really am attached to this plot and how matt acts in this story.. hes sooo aksksowwk anyway. tags and ppl i love:

@slvtformatt (my star hi) @breeloveschris @recklessmatt @plasticferal @sturniololol @sturniolopepsi @mattshands @mattslutt @strawberrysturniolo @gamermattsgf @lustfulslxt @stazsi @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @whatrulookingat11 @strtuniolo @8blonded @mattslolita @mattsmad @haleyms @m9ttsverse @alexosllurr @imwetforyourmom @chr1sgirl4life @mayhem-72 @valeriestromboli @blahbel668 @whicked-hazlatwhore @roostersforevergirl @pepsiluvr0209 @strtuniolo @hearts4chris @matthewsfilmsss @madisonsslut @obsessivekniss @st7rnioioss @mattybearnard @ireadstoriss @lilsstvrn @creamoncreamoncream2 @angelic-sturniolos111 @robins-scoop @sturnioloss @mattybsbitch @rozariah51911 @m4ttslvr @christurniolomyman @septumchris @carolinalikesthings @eroticsturn @jjmaybankswifes-blog

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #smut #fem reader

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons I wrote instead of sleeping

Sometimes the boys forget that Nimona isn’t human 

Like they’re used to the shifting into animals aspect of Nimona because she does it as often as she breathes

But sometimes she’ll do some really creepy shit like make her arms longer to reach something when she’s too lazy to get up

One time they shifted just their neck to be like an owl so they could turn their head 180 degrees instead of just turning around cause that was “too boring” 

Or he’ll mimic people’s voices without realizing it 

Sometimes he’ll tell a story and suddenly he’s using Bal’s voice 

The first time she did this Bal searched the whole house cause he was convinced that Todd has snuck in

Or she’ll grow an extra arm to hold more shit and they take a moment to realize “oh yeah we adopted a little weirdo” 

They get used to it after a while and the arguments surrounding it are always funny because both the boys will complain and say “I don’t sound like that” and they have to be told “No love you do you really do” 

You know those videos of babies reacting to their parents shaving their facial hair or putting on glasses 

That’s Nimona's reaction every single time the boys change their appearance even the smallest bit they cant shave or wear their reading glasses because if they do he freaks out 

Talking some “help me Nemesis I heard bosses voice but I can’t find him” while Bal was standing right in front of them 

It was the first time he shaved his face in years and he’s never doing it again 

Mostly cause Ambrosius kept telling him he looked like a teenager and it was freaking him out 

I feel like Bal and Ambrosius are those kinds of people who will tell people about the little injuries but neglect the big ones 

Like Bal mentioned that he thinks he sprained his ankle during the fight at the institute but he won’t mention that he’s pretty sure he got a concussion 

(BECAUSE THIS MAN HEAD-BUTTED TWO PEOPLE WHEN HE HAS A METAL ARM) 

(I’m bout to wrap this man in bubble wrap and give him a helmet because wtf) 

Ambrosius will complain the whole day about the fact that he has a paper cut

But will completely neglect to inform his doctors “Oh yeah I can’t move my left arm higher than my waist without pain and I can’t see that well out of my left eye or hear that well out of my left ear do you think that’ll be a problem?” 

It isn’t until Nimona makes an off handed comment about how this super weird that the laser did basically nothing to him that he told both of them

They literally dragged him to the ER because “Who thinks those symptoms are normal Nemesis what is wrong in that pretty little head of yours!!” 

When Bal tells Nimona she’s being a bit of a hypocrite (cause who refers to an arrow as a splinter?) she turns to him and says “I know you’re not saying something Mr. Human battering ram” 

It took literally everything in Ambrosius not to break down laughing

After that she forces them to have frequent checkups with the doctor because these dorks wouldn’t go otherwise

Honestly I'm fully convinced that some people in the kingdom don't know who Nimona is and are constantly confused why they let this little weirdo follow them around 

And finally the curiosity will eat away at them and they’ll finally ask 

Sometimes the boys will give some “normal” answers like “Oh that’s Nimona” and they won’t elaborate at all

Sometimes they’ll give funnier answers like “Oh that’s a raccoon we found in the garage who turned into a person one day” “I don’t know they just showed up in our living room” and their personal best “You see her too?” 

And their favorite that they only started using a couple of years down the line “Oh that’s our kid”

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I just know these accident-prone dorks don't go to the doctor #which i respect because neither do I #Ambrosius would rather memorize the eye chart than admit he needs glasses #and that is a hill I will die on #I feel like NImona freaks out at changes in appearance because it reminds her that things don't stay the same forever #she's immortal the boys arent #she forces them into frequent checkups because she doesn’t want to find out too late that something is wrong #she wants to know that they did everything in their power as soon as they could of something does come up #and best case scenario they live very long happy lives #but I like to believe that they get reincarnated and find each other in every life #because I'm sappy like that #excuse my sleep deprived rambling #I’ve found so many issues with this post

[zriasstuff]

Final blow- Mattheo Riddle x reader

Mattheo Riddle oneshot; including a classic wizarding duel, tension filled atmosphere, and a cute ending <3 (SFW)

“For our next duel, I’m asking Mattheo Riddle and Miss Y/n to please step up onto the platform”

The words from professor Snape echoed through the duelling practice room, and as of right now everyone was staring at you two. It didn’t come as a shock to you when you were picked. Both of you were pretty much on the same level, with the exception of course that you had way less of an ego than Mattheo.

Defense against the dark arts was your favorite subject, especially when it came to doing hands on things. Duelling just happened to be one of your favorite things to practice. The tougher the opponent, the sweeter the victory, you believed. With Mattheo, you had to make sure that you would fight till the last moment, and to not go down without a proper fight.

“C’mon, go up!”, your friends encourage you, “You got this!”. They all believed in you, and told you that your chances were good, making you feel more secure in your skills. Through all the encouragement you got, you start moving towards where the showdown would take place.

As you go up, you look at Mattheo, who seemed confident to say the least. He knows he’s good and everyone else knows it too. Moreover, all the quidditch training certainly gave him a strong and muscular body to work with.

Before the duel begins, you scan the crowd one more time for looks and chants of support. “MAKE US RAVENCLAWS PROUD!”, you hear someone yelling amidst all the people. That you were extremely thankful for, since you could really use all the positive reassurance you could get. You quickly say thank you back to the crowd.

At the same time, the Slytherins must’ve seen this as another competition and started yelling all sorts of things in support of their representative too. Together, they sure looked like a mean bunch.

“YOU GOT THIS MATTHEO!”, his friend Blaise hollers loudly. Draco, right after, shouts out “YEAHH, DESTROY HER!”.

What a gentleman you mutter to yourself, and Mattheo must’ve heard it because you hear a slight chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Nervous”, he quietly asks you.

“Not at all”, you respond in the most self assured manner that you can muster.

He himself didn’t look nervous at all, but rather excited to have a “play partner”. Frankly you weren’t either, but you also knew that going up against him wouldn’t be easy.

Mattheo keeps looking you in the eye with a slight grin, so to match his energy, you hold eye contact with him too and make sure that your posture is straight. If you don’t look capable from the beginning, you are never going to make it to the end.

To commence this duel at last, Snape retells the rules of combat and announces that “only magical acts can be used as a form of offense or defense. You may disarm or harm your opponent, but must not seriously injure them.” Otherwise Madam Pomfrey would surely throw another fit at you “immature rascals”.

You were counting on disarming Mattheo to be your tactic. His fatal flaw was, noting from your past observations, being too aggressive, and not fully protecting himself. Besides that, he was flawless.

All eyes on you guys now, you start off by bowing to each other to pay your respects. “Good luck”, he whispers to you while you’re on eye level. “Same to you”, you reply, to make him know that you weren’t scared.

As Snape was counting down from three, you calmed yourself down once again, telling yourself that it would be fine. When Snape reaches the final number three, Mattheo immediately goes into the offense and casts several stunning spells, which you block with your shielding spell. You had practiced that one so often, that you could confidently utilize it at any given time. Mattheo keeps trying to push you back further. One after another, his attacking spells are blasted at you. And one after another you block them. It was a back and forth dance between you two, neither one of you budging yet.

He came alarmingly close though. One of his spells had caught your shoulder, sending an electrifying shock through your body. Another one had hit your torso straight like a bullet. That one had caused you the most pain. You grunted and held your hand over the wounded area, but it was still bearable. You just had to fight through the pain.

Both of you kept going, at this point recognizing that victory wouldn’t come easily to either one of you. Mattheo, looking forward to making things a little more playful, cheekily calls out “holding up pretty well for someone like you”. You knew he was trying to get you off of your game by sounding condescending. He was well aware of your capabilities. Therefore you clap back by saying “that shouldn’t come as a surprise, and you’re not as good as you think you are”.

Having said that, you hear a few murmurs amongst the students. Snape takes the time to remind you to keep the personal bashing to yourselfs until the duel is resolved. Mattheo seems to take it quite personally though, now casting out especially aggressive spells.

Even by then you are able to hold up, but there was still no opportunity to really harm him. The back and forth kept going to the point where neither of you saw an end to this.

After a while, having been so concentrated on defending yourself and managing your pain, you hadn’t even looked at Mattheo anymore to see how he was doing. You just saw his spells shooting at you. So, when you finally did look, you noticed that Mattheo was getting a little riled up himself and losing his edge. He always tries to keep his cool, to not show any signs of weakness. Yet, there you were, taking hit after hit, and not backing down. It made him frustrated to see his efforts not meeting his expectations.

After more exchanges of non sufficient spells, you are getting way too tired, and you decide it’s time to put this exhausting duel to an end. You just had to wait for the perfect moment.

In Mattheo’s mind, he was also just waiting for the perfect moment, hoping for you to retreat.

When you glance at the audience again for just a second, you see the gawking mouths of some of the Slytherins. Instantly, it boosts your confidence. If even they were stunned by you, then all was going right, and you knew you got this. If you could really defeat Mattheo, his ego was probably going to be bruised for a good several days at least.

Between further dodging spells, and shielding yourself, it was really difficult to find the perfect moment, though you had a feeling it would come soon enough. Mattheo was getting even more frustrated. His spells weren’t as accurate anymore. His arm was losing strength and going a little limp. And most important of all, his confidence became tainted.

While trying to catch his breath for a second, Mattheo simultaneously lowers his arm. During that one scarce moment, you decide to deliver the final blow.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”, you call out. Everyone’s eyes were wide open, seeing exactly as the spell hit Mattheo, causing his wand to fly across the platform, all the way into your hand. You catch it with precision, and watch his look of disbelief. You couldn’t even fully believe it yourself. He was done for.

“Wanna wave the white flag now?”, you cheekily ask him now, as he’s still trying to catch his breath. It was a little mean, but he could handle it.

Mattheo still can’t believe what just happened based on the look on his face. You see him scrunching his eyebrows, and mouth hanging wide open.

Although he knows he’s got nothing left, he still replies with “never”.

“As you wish”, you say with a wide grin, because in the next second, your final spell sent him flying across the room. Mattheo falls off of the duelling platform at the end, all the way onto the ground.

As his body hit the hard floor, all students from every house, except the Slytherins of course, started cheering for you. You felt as if you were on cloud nine hearing all their chants. Your heart was still beating rapidly, as if it was going to explode any second. A little part of you can’t believe that you just sent Mattheo flying across the platform, but the bigger part was gloating with pride.

You watch Mattheo prop himself up and walk back onto the platform to go up to you. He warmly, to your surprise, meets your gaze and brings out his hand to shake yours.

“Looks like you didn’t need luck after all”, he congratulates you. You’re taken aback for a second because this behavior of him wasn’t what you expected at all. He clearly notices and goes on to say “I rarely lose, but when I do I try not to be a sore loser”.

When he goes to his friends, he turns back and winks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. Winning was already quite the event, but Mattheo being a perfect gentleman weirdly made your insides churn.

…

You wait for everyone to leave the room after enough duelling was done for the morning. The reason was because you saw, from the corner of your eye, that Mattheo was also taking his time. You didn’t even know exactly why you were waiting for him.

Not that it was your planned intention, but you decide to go up to him and tell him that it was a great, although stressful, duel. Perhaps that would fuel some kind of conversation.

“No need to gloat”, he throws back at you. He didn’t sound all too happy, and maybe he did take the loss stronger than he showed at first. Your mind starts to spin and look for kind words. You definitely didn’t mean to insult him, so you quickly stutter out

“No- that’s not what I-”

Before you could finish that jumbled sentence though, he chuckles out loud, his eyes giving you a look of sympathy. His entire demeanor has changed now, the upset look from before just having been a facade.

“Chill, I was just kidding”, he cheerfully says. Seconds later he adds “You won fair and square, I’m actually really impressed with you”. It sounded like he meant it genuinely.

That compliment wasn’t something you expected. Relieved at his relaxed attitude, you choose to go along with his joking manner and respond with “I’m definitely going to hold that over your head forever”.

That earned you yet another precious chuckle from him. His laugh was truly contagious because shortly after you start laughing too. You had actually never expected that talking with Mattheo could feel so carefree and fun.

“Y’know I actually thought you were a lot more arrogant”, you honestly admitted to him during your talk. As far as the truth went, this was it. You could see that it had certainly been a little presumptuous of you to assume that about him.

“Well that’s because you don’t really know me and make pointless assumptions, but I don’t blame you”, he boldly calls you out on your prejudices too.

Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you imagined, but definitely still cocky.

Suddenly he puts his hand on your shoulder, which makes you jerk back at first. The sudden contact just came as a surprise. He also takes notice, but when he sees that you don’t mind after the initial shock, he just kept it there. “So, wanna get out of here?”, he suggested. “We could talk and you could get to know me better”, Mattheo proposes, obviously referring to your previous statement.

“Well, how can I say no to that”, you comply while flashing him a gentle smile.

And with that, both of you leave the room, with Mattheo’s hand still wrapped around your shoulders.

#harry potter #oneshot #slytherin #slytherin boys #fanfic #mattheo riddle #ravenclaw #drabble #wizarding world #harry potter oneshot #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle oneshot

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your Naga Lord saves your Mother

A/N: I've had this oneshot sitting in my drafts in a while, combining some old asks

Naga Lord (Leander) x F Maid reader

Word Count: 6K

General Plot: You and your family are staff in the house of a Naga Lord. Things go sideways when your childhood friend's father falls for you mother.

W: Description of murder, yandere behavior, spitting, otherwise sfw soft yandere fluff

More SFW fics here

“Hurry up now,” your mother said brightly as she ladled a bit of porridge into a bowl for you to eat. “Master Dervin will be cross if you're late with his breakfast.” 

Though the two of you were mere servants in the Naga Lord’s home, she always fed you first before you had to do your duties for the morning. 

She glanced up as you scarfed down your breakfast, her eyes warming as they met your father’s. 

“Good morning, my favorite ladies,” he said, kissing her and ruffling your hair. 

“Papa! I have to work!” You pouted, but he just snickered, stealing your spoon and taking a bite of your porridge. 

“Don't bother making yourself neat for that snake bastard,” he chuckled as his hands slid around your mother’s waist. 

“Charles, please. Someone might hear, and we'll be out on the street!” 

He shrugged. As you finished your meal, your mother arranged the morning dishes for the Naga family on a silver cart, taking a moment to smooth and repin your hair before you were to serve them. 

Your father was sure to spit in Dervin’s bowl when your mother looked away, making your eyebrows jump. He put a finger over his lips, winking at you. 

“I'm off to the stable,” he said, grabbing an apple as he went. “Have a nice day, my pretty girls!” 

You blinked at the contaminated bowl, wondering if you should throw it out. 

“What are you staring at?” Your mother chided, pushing the cart towards the door. “Get along; I can hear them coming down the stairs.” 

You hurriedly fixed a pleasant but distant look on your lips as you wheeled the cart into the dining room. 

“Good morning, Mr. Leander,” you said to Dervin's only son, as he was the first to enter the dining room.” 

“You’re radiant this morning as always (Y/N),” he beamed, taking his spot at the table. “but stop calling me ‘mister’ you never used to.” 

Your ears heated as you placed his breakfast in front of him. 

“It's not appropriate, sir. We were children then. You're to be the master of the house and will be married soon. I'm sure your fiancee wouldn’t appreciate-” 

He cut off your words with a sharp hand. 

“Don't speak of unpleasant things,” he grumbled. 

“Apologies, sir.” 

“Stop calling me-” 

The arrival of his mother cut off his own words. She was a lovely Naga, sharing Leander’s white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Like his, her tail was a shocking electric blue.

“Stop prattling with that servant, Leander,” she snapped. “She has work to do. You're bothering her.” 

Mrs. Elanore was not a pleasant woman, but she didn't like you servants to be harassed by the males of the house. Whether it was actual concern or jealousy, you didn't know, but your mother, especially, appreciated it. 

Dervin, her husband, took every opportunity to corner her, trying to ply her with gifts and sweet words. Your mother was having none of it, which is why you delivered their meals, not her, and why your father spit in his food. 

You nodded, thanking Elanore as you served her the tea she liked. 

“Where is that imbecile?” she muttered, referring to her husband. “There are so few things I ask of him, but he can't manage the simplest tasks. He is to arrive on time for every meal. There must be some decorum in this household! 

Her sharp blue eyes flicked to you. 

“Go get him (Y/N).” 

Leander slid in front of you like a vibrant  blue flash before you could even respond. 

“I'll go, mother. (Y/N) has her work, as you said.” 

She gave him a tight nod, and you took the opportunity to finish setting the table for their return. 

“I should fire your family,” Elanore mused. “your father would be happier, don't you think?” 

You glanced up for a moment to find her eyes traveling over your form. 

“You and your mother are too pretty to be maids,” she snorted. “You'll only cause trouble wherever you go.” 

“Our family has served yours for generations,” you muttered, scared she might put you all on the street. “My grandparents died here, and so did theirs.” 

 “Just like a human,” she hissed, baring her teeth. “Servile and obedient. You’d think you’d have found something else to do in all those years.” 

“Apologies, ma’am,” you said, looking at your shoes. 

She waved a dismissive hand at you, sipping her tea. 

“It’s in your nature. There’s nothing to be done. You and your mother are good at your jobs at least.” 

Your cheeks warmed at the backhanded compliment. It was different when Dervin or Leander complimented you. She acknowledged the skill that had been passed through generations, not how you looked. You and your mother knew how to run a house. Your masters needed structure to maintain their dignity. With little to do, they would become depressed slobs if you didn’t keep everything running efficiently.  At least, that’s what your grandmother told you. 

Slithering through the wide doorway, Dervin and Leander settled into their spots at the table, and you took your place in the corner, waiting in case one of them needed something. The two male Nagas looked very similar in their features, handsome with a strong jaw and wide shoulders, but Dervin’s hair was jet black, as were his eyes. They always appeared blank and cold, which frightened you. Elanore wasn’t warm, but her gaze reflected an expressive nature, not a monstrous stillness. 

Your eyes watched him take a bite of his breakfast, trying to hide the disgust that roiled in your stomach. 

“Where’s your mother?” he snapped after a few big bites. 

You didn’t speak at first, your eyes drifting to Elanore for permission. She answered for you. 

“She’s in the kitchen where she ought to be. The servants are my business as the Lady of the house. Don’t bother yourself with their whereabouts.” 

“I pay them,” he barked, but she ignored him, turning her attention to Leander. 

“You’re to visit Iris today, Leander. I’ve purchased a gift for you to bring your fiancee.” 

She snapped her fingers at you, and you hurried to her side to take the small package and walk it around the table to her son. 

“I don’t wish to bring her any gifts,” he snorted, not even taking the gift from your hand. “She’s not my fiancee.” 

Elanore rubbed her temples. 

“The two of you are infuriating, you know that? You have one job, Leander. You have to marry well and produce an heir.” 

She waved a finger at you. 

“You can keep your little maid as a comfort doll if you like, but you will do as I have arranged.” 

“I’m a grown man, mother. I don’t have to do anything.” 

Electricity crackled between their eyes as they engaged in a silent power struggle. You stood awkwardly to the side, still holding the gift. 

“I’m sick of this! I do my very best to advise you two idiots on the proper way to conduct yourselves, and you act like spoiled children!” 

Her tail snapped faster than you could see and struck Leander across the cheek with a crack. Blood dribbled down his pale skin, and his eyes hung on her, the warm blue turning to ice. 

“I should have never married a common husband like you,” she snarled, turning her ire toward Dervin. Vulgarity and Mediocrity are in your blood, and you’ve infected your son!” 

Dervin’s black eyes flashed. 

“My mediocre blood saved your foolish noble family from destitution. Thanks to my benevolence, you are able to live in the house your family has owned for generations. If not for me, you’d be begging on the streets, pleading with your relatives to take you in as a servant.” 

“Fools,” she snarled, picking up her tea and slithering out of the room. 

“Bring your mother to me,” Dervin demanded when she was out of earshot.

You let out a trembling breath as you thought up a lie. 

“She went into town this morning for groceries, sir,” you said, knowing he’d never lower himself to search for her in the kitchen. 

You screamed as the bowl he was eating from sailed across the room, shattering beside your head. 

“Father!” Leander shouted. 

Dervin gave him an amused but cool smirk before turning his attention to you.

“Send her to my room when she returns,” he barked and stormed out. 

You leaned against the wall, panting as you mentally checked yourself for harm. Leander’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, looking you over. 

“Did he hurt you?” he asked. 

Your gazes met, but words wouldn’t come, so you shook your head. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his warm arms wrapping around you and pressing you to his chest. 

You inhaled the spicy scent of the soap he used mixed with his own natural fragrance. 

“I won’t let any harm come to you.” 

When he pulled away, you found yourself looking at your feet, trying to avoid his gaze. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I dropped the gift,” you muttered, picking up the broken box. 

You plucked the pretty hairpin from the shards of ceramic, seeing it was still whole. 

“I’ll find a new box,” you said, trying to slide around him. 

He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, curling the other around your fingers. 

“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not marrying Iris. My mother has no say in the matter, despite how she likes to posture.” 

Your gaze shifted to the red slash bisecting his cheek. 

“Let’s get this cleaned for you, sir. It will be a problem if it gets infected.” 

He frowned but followed you to the kitchen. 

“Is everything alright?” your mother asked as you pulled the first aid kit off a shelf. 

“Good morning, zhingha,” Leander said, greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The word meant “mother” in the Naga’s old language. He had never considered his biological mother his; when he was a boy, he got quite attached to yours. He spent most of his time in the kitchen with you, playing and avoiding Elanore’s tantrums when you were children. The two of you had made the pantry your fort, and you’d put on little shadow plays while you lay on the floor together. 

Your mother’s eyes focused on his wound, and she clucked. 

“Poor thing, come bend down where I can reach you. You’ve grown into such a tall man,” she said, taking the kit from you and pulling out the correct supplies. 

You hopped on the counter, swinging your feet as you watched her disinfect and bandage the cut. 

“What mother in their right mind would do such a thing to their son,” she muttered as she worked. 

She already knew who’d done it because she treated Leander’s wounds often. When she was done, she patted him on the head like when he was a little boy. 

“That’s better.” 

“We should go into town today,” he said. “My father is looking for you.” 

She frowned, a flash of fear streaking across her face. 

“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be visiting Iris. We can take the carriage, and you can visit with your friends instead. Go have Charles ready it.” 

She nodded, giving him a wan smile before she hurried to find your father. You hopped off the counter and headed to do your chores while your mother was safely out of the house. 

Before you could make it out the door, Leander’s thick, electric blue tail coiled around you. 

“Ah, ah, you’re coming too, saiya,” he cooed, dragging you into his arms. 

Your heart thumped at the silly nickname he’d given you as a child. The word meant “little bear. " When he was young, he was fascinated with your round ears compared to his, which pointed at the end. As they had so often back then, his finger traced the arch of one as he hummed his pleasure. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t,” you whispered, but Leander was too pleased with you in his arms. 

He dipped his head, nibbling at your ear. 

“I should eat you up, sweet little thing,” he whispered, making your body explode in butterflies. 

He carried you out the back door to the stable, where your father was busy arranging the horses to pull the carriage. When he saw you tucked behind Leander’s large biceps, he frowned. 

“Put my daughter down. She’s not your doll,” he said, his tone more curt than he probably should have been with a family member of the house he served.  

Out of only politeness, you were sure, he set you down. Your mother let out a light, silvery giggle, patting your father on the shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t be so strict, Charles,” she said. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it.” 

As Leander tugged you by the hand into the carriage, you heard your Dad lower his voice, so he thought the Naga couldn’t hear. 

“I don’t like those snakes touching her. They are far too familiar. Miss Elanore’s grandfather would never have allowed him to fondle her the way he does. Things were the way they should be when he was around.”

Beside you, Leander snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“He also drove the family to bankruptcy,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Listen,” your father went on as he helped your mother onto the seat next to him, and still unaware you could hear him quite clearly. “I’ve been talking with the Willards about (Y/N).” 

“The Willards?” she asked. “The tailors?” 

“Yes, they have a boy about (Y/N)’s age. Apparently, he has taken an interest in her, and his father approves. He thinks a girl raised as a maid will make a dutiful wife. I think we ought to consider it. We can visit while we’re in town today.” 

You remembered the Willard's son Joshua from when you were sent on errands to pick up clothes for Elanore. He was a handsome young man, though a little on the skinny side. He seemed nice enough. Still, your cheeks burned, and you folded your hands tightly, hearing your parents plot your marriage. 

“I don’t know, dear,” your mother hummed. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?” 

He let out a grunt. 

“I’d do just about anything to get our girl away from that snake. He’s only going to ruin her, string her along, and throw her away when he’s bored. They’re all the same. The Willard’s can give her a good life.” 

You felt Leander stiffen beside you. As the carriage took off, his tail wrapped around you so tight you whimpered. He glanced down, his face darkening to a cool blue. 

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, loosening his muscles but not letting you go. 

He gently unwrapped the hairpin, clutched in your palm, and busied himself fastening it to your hair. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, greedy eyes eating you up. “I won’t let anyone else touch you (Y/N).” 

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. You’d always liked Leander. He was very handsome, and as children, you’d been inseparable. However, you also realized the massive gap between your two worlds. You were just a maid, and he was the only son of a wealthy lord. It wasn’t meant to be. Your father had explained to you many times before that Leander only doted on you because he was immature and unwilling to grow up. He thought he could still play make-believe with your life, and he warned you to be wary of him. 

Feeling raw and confused, you tried to keep your eyes out the window, focused on the passing countryside as you made your way toward town. When your father stopped to park the carriage, he nodded to your mother as you climbed out. 

She held out a hand to you. 

“Darling, I need you to come with me. We’re going to stop at the tailor’s,” she said, carefully avoiding Leander’s gaze. 

He, however, would not be tricked. 

“How convenient. I need to stop there as well,” he said with a grin, tugging you back towards him with his tail. “(Y/N), keep me company as we walk so I don’t get bored.” 

Your father gave him a deep grimace but was silent as he finished tying up the horses and escorted your mother by the arm down the busy avenue, walking a few steps ahead of you. You watched the two of them whisper to one another as you made your way to the Willard’s shop. 

“Greetings!” Marshall Willard said with a grin when he saw you and your parents enter the shop. 

His eyes jumped to the large Naga next you, and he winced just slightly before calling his son.

“Joshua! Come greet our guests. I’ll help the customer.” 

Joshua appeared from the back, giving you a pleasant smile. 

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/LN). It’s wonderful to see you,” he said politely. “Can I offer you some tea?” 

Meanwhile, his father greeted Leander. 

“Young Lord Szake! What can I help you with this morning?” 

You moved to follow your parents to the kitchen with Joshua, but Leander pulled you back by the shoulders. 

“I’m here to buy (Y/N) some dresses,” he said, pushing you gently in front of him. 

Everyone in the room looked at you, and your cheeks burned. 

“What? Why, my lord?” you stammered. 

He tipped his head at you.

“If you’re to be my personal attendant, you can’t follow me around in threadbare wool dresses. You ought to represent the Szake family well.” 

“Personal attendant?” you parroted, confused. “But I’m just a maid.” 

“Not anymore,” he declared. “Every Lord has a personal attendant to handle the paperwork and their calendar…those sorts of things.” 

“But isn’t that normally a man?” Mr. Willard asked. 

Leander beamed at him, a cold smile full of hate. 

“(Y/N) has known me since I was just a child. She knows everything about me. I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else with my personal affairs.” 

Your father frowned. 

“Nonsense,” he barked. “(Y/N) is going to be married and have a domestic life, as she should. You’re a wealthy Lord; I’m sure you can find a qualified candidate.” 

Joshua nodded beside him. You looked up at Leander, eyes large. 

“I can’t be your personal attendant, sir,” you added. “It’s not proper. What will people think?” 

He smirked at you, his long, strong fingers pinching your chin so you had to look at him. 

“Fine…If your father insists you have a domestic life, you shall.” 

Your shoulders wilted with relief, and you let out a breath. 

“Oh, thank goo-” 

“As my wife.” 

Everyone in the room’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

“What?!” they all said at once. 

Leander gave Mr. Willard another bitterly cold grin. 

“Measure her for dresses fitting the station of a Lord’s fiancee.” 

“Absolutely not!” your father said.

“Lord Szake will never allow of this!” Mr. Willard pointed out. 

“She’s to be my fiancee!” Joshua hissed, taking an incensed step towards Leander. “My father has already approved it!” 

Leander’s gaze shot to him, danger reflected in his irises. 

“There are not words on this plane to describe how little I care about whatever arrangement your families have worked out. (Y/N) will marry me, and you will dress her properly.” 

He sank into his coils, pushing you in front of Mr. Willard, snapping his fingers. 

“Now.” 

You saw the man’s jaw tick, but refusing Leander’s request would only be bad for his business, so he pulled out his measuring tape and approached you. Not sure what was happening, you gave him a pleading look, begging him to say something. Reading your confusion and fear, his stare shifted to one more gentle. 

“Lift your arms, please, miss,” he said quietly. 

The room was dead silent while he did as he was told. Joshua and your father glared at Leander, who seemed entirely unbothered, while your mother appeared uncertain. You watched her suck in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before she approached the Naga, speaking in hushed tones. 

“Sir, are you sure this is wise? I’m not opposed to this match. I-I know…I can see you love her…I’m only worried for (Y/N)’s safety. Such arrangements between classes rarely work out well. Your fellow nobles will never accept her. Would you subject her to their cruelty?” 

For a moment, he seemed to be considering her words, eyes sliding to you. 

“My family has never been accepted into our peers good graces. You know my father was a common merchant. My mother married him out of desperation. She traded her noble title for his fortune. People’s opinions are only that. Opinions. (Y/N) and I will face the same prejudices together. Do you wish your daughter to continue her life as a maid or-?” 

He gave Joshua a dirty look. 

“Or become a servant to a husband who can never love her as I can?” 

Your mother sighed. She lifted her hand and smoothed a bit of hair that had come out of place as if he were her own son. 

“Please…for me, be serious about this if it is what you intend to do.” 

He tipped his cheek into her palm. 

“I will never betray your daughter zhingha.” 

Your father let out a strangled noise, marching out the front door, slamming it behind him. 

Joshua, who had been pacing in place, stomped over to you, grabbing you by the arm to face him. 

“Is this what you really want (Y/N)? A snake for a husband?” 

Before you could answer, Leander’s tail shot out, jerking him away from you and tossing him into the wall. 

“Don’t touch her!” 

The young man climbed to his feet, clutching his ribs. 

“You nobles can’t just take whatever you like! (Y/N) belongs with us!” 

Leander slid across the room like an elegant blue river, lifting Joshua up by his throat. 

“Do not address my fiancee by her first name again. If I see your eyes on her, I will gouge them out!” 

Joshua’s furious face told you he didn’t plan to back down. His father dropped the measuring tape, hurrying to rescue his son. 

“Of course, he wont’ My Lord,” he said. “You’ve made your intentions quite clear. Yes, Joshua?” 

He gave Leander another long look before he gave in. 

“As you say, My Lord.” 

Leander dropped him, returning to his seat near you, and jerked his head at the tailor. 

“Continue,” he snarled. 

“Go to the back and help your mother,” Mr. Willard said to his son.

Joshua gave you a last lingering glance before he disappeared. 

–

You arrived back at the mansion in a very different dress than when you'd left. Leander had insisted on buying you and your mother matching readymade dresses from the shop window while you waited for the fourteen others he ordered to be made. The soft peach satin fabric was the nicest thing you’d ever worn. 

The first thing you heard as you walked in the black door was the smashing of ceramic. 

“Stay here,” Leander said. 

Your eyes quickly flicked to your mother, who grabbed your hand and pulled you into the pantry, peeking out through a crack in the door. 

“Father?” Leander called, opening the door to the dining room. 

He ducked as a vase flew past, smashing to pieces on the stove.

“That bitch!” You heard him screaming. 

He shoved past his son, dark eyes jerking around the room. 

“Father! Calm down! What's happened?” 

“Where is the human woman?” he snarled. 

You and your mother slipped back into the shadows, trying to be as silent as mice. 

“Father! She’s not back from shopping yet. Please, tell me what’s happened.” 

His eyes narrowed, but seemed satisfied with his answer. 

“It’s your mother,” he snarled. “She’s gone.” 

“Gone?” 

He bared his fangs at his son. 

“Don’t parrot me like a dumb animal. The damn woman left! She stole the gold in the safe and disappeared! No one’s seen her!” 

He paced on his thick tail. 

“She must have paid off the townsfolk. No one will tell me where she’s gone!” 

“Has she made off with our fortune?” 

His father glanced up at him. 

“Of course not; I keep the majority of our money in the bank. Only you and I can access it. I planned for this possibility but never expected her to do it! She only got off with our emergency fund…but it was enough to live well for a long time. When will the human woman return?” 

“I don’t know, father,” he said. “But whatever you need, I can help you with it.” 

He waved a clawed hand. 

“I don’t need anything done! I’m going to marry the woman. I should never have agreed to marry Elanore. I won’t make that mistake again. An obedient human wife will suit me better.” 

Leander let out a cold chuff. 

“She’s already married, father!” 

“Easily fixed,” he hissed with murder in his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious!” 

He tried to push past his son toward the door leading out to the stable. Leander blocked his way, his icy irises determined. 

“I can’t let you do that, Father,” he said, his tone low and even. 

Your father came marching through the door a moment later, unaware of the drama playing out. He froze where he stood, eyes immediately focused on the two Naga, staring one another down. 

The opportunity in front of him was too tempting for Dervin to resist, and his tail shot out, a victorious smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay the scream that erupted from your throat, your mother rushing past you to protect her husband. 

Dervin’s focus shifted to her, and Leander lunged at the same second. Caught off guard, he threw his father to the floor, and they quickly became a writhing ball of tails and arms. 

“You’d betray me too, son?” he gasped as he tried to overpower Leander. 

You smelled the coppery stench of blood as sharp nails scraped each other's skin. More than willing to help, your father picked up a heavy cast iron skillet, making his way around the hissing Naga, quiet on his feet. 

There was a resounding crunch as the skillet descended on Dervin’s head. He flopped to the floor, limp. Blood leaked in a pool around him, but he still dragged in a wet breath. Before anyone else could move, Leander snatched a kitchen knife from the rack, jamming it through his chest. Dervin let out his gurgling last breath and then was still. 

You and your mother clutched one another, sinking to the floor. Neither of you knew what to say or do, but your father and Leander didn’t need any prompting. 

“Help me with him,” your father said, slipping his arms under the dead Naga’s. “We’ll bury him under the pig pens.” 

Leander grunted his assent, lifting the majority of the weight as they maneuvered the body outside. 

“Come,” your mother whispered, trembling. “The blood.” 

You nodded, filling the mop bucket with water before pulling every towel from the cabinet to mop up the mess. 

“What now?” you found yourself whispering, though there was no reason to. 

She shrugged. 

“That’s for Leander to decide. He’s the Lord of this house.” 

By the time they returned, you’d scrubbed everything to a sparkle, the only blood left staining your new dresses and the towels.

“Take those off,” your father said. “We’ll burn the linens.” 

The two of you nodded, slipping the heavy dresses over your shoulders until you only wore the thick shifts underneath. Leander helped you out of your shoes and slipped the red-splattered stockings off your feet. 

Your father gave you and Leander a long look before he spoke. 

“Take your fiancee to bed,” he said. “She shouldn’t have seen all this. I trust it won’t happen again.”  

Leander returned a tight nod, and something passed between their gazes. They’d forged a silent agreement. 

It wasn’t until your mother and father left out the back door to burn the rest of the evidence that the tears came. It was a relief Dervin was gone. He would have killed your father and hurt your mother, but it was still horrific. 

“Shhh,” Leander hummed, scooping you up in his arms. 

He carried you upstairs to his bedroom, curling into a tight ring to settle you in the center. His arms wrapped around you, and he pressed your head into his chest. 

“Everything is going to be okay now,” he said softly, carding the strands of your hair with his long fingers. 

“Lei, are we all going to jail?” you sniffled, his childhood nickname falling past your lips all on its own. 

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling when they met yours. 

“No. My mother did us a favor. If anyone asks, they’re touring the countryside until they're entirely forgotten.” 

“What happens now?” you asked. 

He tipped your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to slip his lips against yours. They were so warm that you felt your jaw's tension melt away. His eyes searched yours when they parted, carrying a lightness you hadn’t seen in many years. 

“I’m going to marry you, and your parents will move out of the servant’s quarters. Your father and mother have earned their place in the Szake family. We’ll find some new staff.” 

You nodded, his hair forming a smooth curtain blocking the world. 

“Sleep now,” he hummed. “All is as it should be.” 

Despite how you wanted to keep your eyes open, they slid shut against your will. 

—

“Would you like lavender or rose tea, Miss (Y/N)?” your new maid asked as she opened the tea box in front of you. 

“Rose,” you said, turning your attention back to the catalog in front of you. 

You sat comfortably in the rose garden, enjoying the sunshine as you planned your wedding. It had been a month since the terrible night that Dervin died. When Leander had informed the merchants of the town that he was getting married, they’d sent piles of samples and booklets for you to look through. You’d never realized there were so many options! It was a little overwhelming. Since you’d come from humble beginnings, it felt strange spending so much money on decorations and lace, but Leander informed you it should be a grand occasion and not to spare a cent. 

“Um…Miss (Y/N)?” one of your maids said, looking slightly frightened. 

“What’s wrong, Lily?” you asked, concerned. 

“Well…there’s a Miss Iris at the door looking for you. Should I bring her?” 

Leander was out for the day, meeting with one of his importers, so you weren’t sure what she could want. 

“Of course, bring her here.” 

A minute later, an elegant Naga came slithering into the garden. Her curly violet hair was pinned in a pretty updo and she wore an elaborate pink dress, covered in ribbons. 

“Hello, Miss Iris,” you said, waving for her to take a place at the table. “Can I offer you some tea?” 

Her brow was drawn, and she looked you up and down. 

“So…you’re who he picked,” she pouted. “Over me.” 

Your ears burned, realizing you were speaking to Leander’s former fiancee. 

“There’s no competition,” you said. 

She snorted. 

“Obviously not.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, and you expected a verbal lashing. You were a mere maid, after all. It was absurd Leander would take you as his fiancee. She sucked in a deep breath, and her expression suddenly softened. 

“How…How did you do it?” 

Your eyebrows jumped, confused. 

“Do what?” 

She looked around, uncomfortable. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You took a breath as your maid politely poured her a cup of tea. 

“I suppose so…If you’d like.” 

“I’m relieved.” 

“Relieved…why?” 

She sipped her tea, thinking before she spoke. 

“Because I don’t particularly care for Leander. In fact, I don’t like him at all. He’s…very…intense. He kind of creeps me out. He only spoke of you when we were out on dates; it was incredibly boring and awkward. Not to mention…the way he talked about you…He was fixated on all of your little ticks. Did you know he carries a lock of your hair around with him? And sometimes your stockings! He showed up one day elated because you’d accidentally sneezed on him and used his handkerchief to wipe your nose! He was cuddling it like a treasure!” 

Your ears heated. Where had he gotten a lock of your hair? You’d never given it to him. 

“He what?” 

Iris waved her previous statement away. 

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t. He’s just…too much like a Naga male. Once they have something in their mind, they get…obsessed. 

Our parents arranged our marriage. I hate that tradition. I’d never force my child into a marriage without love. That’s how you get murdered by some enterprising mistress!” 

You blinked, unsure if you should be offended or not, but she went on.  

“Honestly, there’s…someone else who has my interest. Only…he’s not a noble Naga.” 

“Oh! That is a puzzle, isn’t it?” 

She nodded, stretching her hand across the table to touch yours. 

“That’s why I need to know how you did it! How did you win over Leander’s parents? Maybe if I can tell Joshua how to do it, I can…I don’t know…” 

You giggled. 

“Joshua…Willard?” 

Her violet irises flared. 

“You know him?” 

“Ah…yes…but not well. He seems like a very nice man.” 

Her eyes glazed over, wistful thoughts playing in her mind. 

“He’s so kind and considerate. I’ve never met anyone like him, so gentle. A few weeks ago, I went to pick up a dress, and he helped me. His hands were so soft, and his voice was so sweet. Every night since then, we’ve been meeting in secret! I know he’s the right one and he thinks so too! 

I don’t want to brute of a husband. I want a kind person who I can talk to. That’s why I have to know how to convince my parents not to marry me off to some…stranger!” 

You weren’t sure how to answer. 

“I think…You should do whatever you must to protect your beloved,” you said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do because it will be different for you. We’re all different in different circumstances.

She looked a little disappointed. 

“What I do know, though, Iris, is that if you love one another, you will find a way You two are adults, not children. No one can make you marry someone you don’t want to. It’s only a matter of how far you are willing to go, what sacrifices you will make to have the life you want.” 

She nodded, thinking. 

“But…” you started, pausing to sip your tea, “What if your parents went on a little vacation?” 

“A vacation?” 

You shrugged. 

“Once you’re married, you’re married,” you said. “Maybe by the time they return…if they return… you’ve sorted your affairs.” 

The two of you shared a knowing look, and she brightened. 

“I like you (Y/N), you’re very clever! You’ve given me hope! Is there anything I can help you with in return? I want us to be friends!” 

You smiled, picking up one of the catalogs. 

“Yes, actually. I have no idea what is proper for a lady. Can you help me? We can plan our weddings together.” 

She beamed at you, taking the catalog. 

“Of course!” 

A few hours later, Leander came slithering through the garden. 

“Iris? What are you doing here?” he asked, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought I made it clear…” 

Iris snorted and waved him away. 

“I’m not here for you,” she said, raising her nose at him. “(Y/N) and I are planning our weddings.” 

“Your wedding?” he asked, and she grinned. 

“Yes! And now that you’re here,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “I think I’ll be off.” 

She leaned down and kissed your cheek. 

“Thank you for your advice (Y/N). I’m going to talk to Joshua,” she said before sliding past Leander without saying goodbye. 

“What was that all about?” Leander asked when she was gone. 

You shrugged. 

“True love, I guess.” 

He pulled you into his coils, peeking over your shoulder at the catalogs on the table. He ran a finger over the things you’d circled. 

“Lei, can I ask you something?” you asked. 

“Anything, love.” 

You twisted around to look at him, narrowing your eyes. 

“Did you tell Iris that you were excited I sneezed on you?” 

“Ah…noooo,” he lied, his whole face darkening to a deep blue. “Wh-Why would she say something silly like that?” 

You giggled. 

“Of course not,” you said, patting his chest. “I must have misheard her. Can I borrow your handkerchief? It's a little warm out here.” 

He passed it to you and you daintily patted your forehead, handing it back. His eyes widened at the little scrap of fabric in his hand and he hastily stuck it in his jacket pocket. 

Leander might be a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

#monster romance #monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #yandere fluff #monster fluff #yandere male #x reader #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere #yandere blog #yandere community #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #soft yandere #naga x reader #naga #naga fluff #x maid #monster bf #monster lover #monster x human #teratophillia x reader #terato #yandere monster

[s0ulryo]

König with a Medic S/O Scenario *:･ﾟ

[König x Reader] Synopsis: König getting patched up by his favorite medic —you. Tags: Soft, konig lovers we rise, established relationship (i forget to put this tag on a ton of things whoops), mentions of distress (?) Notes: Prolly ooc, not proofread, his voice is so mmmmm, also my brain blanked so many times while writing this so im vv sorry for the wonky formatting

Thank you @uselsshuman for letting me write about this!

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

König dislikes a lot of things. He wouldn’t say he hates anything but the list of dislikes has grown over the years. For example, König dislikes crowded places, the smell of cigarettes, getting injured, having to go to a medic to treat his injury, having to see you — who is a medic to treat his injury, having to get chewed out by you for obtaining an injury — you get the point.

So here he sits, listening to you freak out about the injury he obtained while being deployed. He knows you don’t mean any harm by it; you’re just concerned for his safety — König appreciates it, he really does — but he’s also a little stressed out by your current commentary.

“Oh my God — König, how the hell did you manage to do this?”

He honestly doesn’t think it’s that bad; sure, the wound looks terrible — but it doesn’t feel too horrible, so it can’t be too bad, right?

Wrong.

“König, are you listening to me? König, are you alright?”

König’s very thankful for you. He thinks you’re awfully nice and very understanding about his feelings, and in all honesty, he’s not sure how he managed to get with someone like you, but he’s not going to question it — he’s just going to enjoy it.

“Sorry, could you repeat what you just said?” König mumbles out sheepishly.

He can’t help it. You’re exceptionally attractive, and König now realizes his arm is in an exceptional amount of pain — and bleeding tremendously. ‘Things like attractive S/O and immense amounts of pain due to physical injury usually make it difficult to focus,’ he reasons to himself.

Sighing, you shake your head. “König, please try to avoid getting injured — this is the second time this week….”

Nodding softly in acknowledgment, König continues to watch you gather the supplies you need to patch his arm up; his eyes flicker around in discomfort, bouncing his leg up and down to keep his mind occupied. Sure he’s sustained worse injuries than this, but getting patched up has always made him anxious.

Swallowing thickly, König tries to place himself out of this situation – somewhere nicer than your medical workspace that smells like antiseptic – anywhere else than here.

He watches you set to work, his eyes closely following the movement of your hands on his arm, cleaning the wound gently, trying to make the process quicker and easier on him.

He’s vaguely aware that his breathing got heavier or how he’s feeling light headed, heart in his throat – vaguely aware that you’re calling his name.

“…ig” “…önig”

He can see you talking, but he can’t hear you very well; bouncing his leg more rapidly, he tries to say anything to tell you how he feels, but he can’t get any words out.

“..ey…hey big guy – look, I’m here, you’re alright – okay?” You try to get him to focus on you, not necessarily your words but just on you.

"Try to take a big breath, big guy – yeah, just like that – breathe in, breathe out…You're doing great König.”

Following your instructions König (tries) to take a deep breath in and out, focusing on what you smell like and your voice. König feels a little stupid, he’s gotten shot – almost killed before, but he can’t take a little doctor's visit? So yeah, it's definitely a critical hit on his ego; he’s just glad it’s you with him.

After calming down a bit König bites the inside of his cheek, diverting his eyes to the door to the far left of the room. He considers bolting out of your office – he won’t have to get patched up, and he won't have to face you, so it’s a win-win situation—

“König dear, don’t try to run out of the room,” you tell him firmly, more so for you than for him – if he decides to make a hasty exit, you conclude that you would not be able to catch the injured man.

“…Am I that obvious [Name]?”

“Yes, dear…You are pretty obvious.”

The silence in the room was deafening, not super awkward – just a bit tense.

König sighs, visibly deflating in his chair; he mutters an apology, watching your figure look in the bottom drawer of your desk. He feels like he’s back in primary school when kids would make fun of him, leaving him all embarrassed.

Well, in this situation, he feels more ashamed than embarrassed.

He continues to watch you shuffle through the drawer until you find what you were looking for – suddenly, you turn to him, smiling triumphantly, motioning for him to stick out his hand to take what you were holding.

“What is it [Name]?” König asks, reaching out for the unknown object in your hand.

Upon further examination, König realizes the object is made of solid metal and cylindrical – resembling a car transmission.

“It’s a fidget toy! I like that one personally because I like the feeling of the transmission shifting gears – but I have some other ones if you would like.”

König stares at you dumbfounded. Diverting his eyes to the small toy in his hand, he starts to mess with it.

“König, I’m going to continue patching you up, alright? Please let me know if you need anything….”

Nodding, he continues to mess with the toy in his hand, gnawing at his bottom lip to suppress a smile.

König, a man that stands at six foot ten inches, just received a fidget toy from his medic S/O – how could he not smile?

“König, I’m done cleaning the wound, but you’ll need some stitches, alright? I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”

König continues to watch you work while shifting the fidget toy from first gear to sixth gear, grateful for the newfound distraction from the distressing environment he’s currently in. He’s also immensely thankful that you are walking him through everything you do – even though he’s not entirely listening.

“Finished! All patched up, big guy – how are you feeling?” You say, tying off the final stitch on König’s arm.

“Better – I feel better,” König says, fumbling with his words, speaking with such haste, appearing as if you caught him off guard.

“Great, I’ll write down the care instructions for your stitches, so you don’t forget – come back here in two-ish weeks to remove the stitches, alright?

Standing up, he shyly extends his hand out to you, offering to return the toy you graciously lent him.

“Oh, you can keep that big guy – you seem to like it…So you can have it.”

König stares at you dumbfounded again, shifting his gaze from you to the small toy in his hand, back to you.

“…You sure?” König asks you quietly.

“Positive.” You respond, pushing his extended hand back towards him. “I want you to have it.”

König thinks he’s going to combust.

His awfully nice, exceptionally attractive S/O just watched him break down, patched him up, and gave him a gift. He’s not sure what he has ever done to be treated with such care, but if he thinks about it any longer, he might start to cry.

Bending down, he mutters a ‘thank you’ into your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“König..?” He hears you say softly, “Can we stay like this for a while..?”

Humming in approval, he pulls you closer to him, slightly swaying side to side, putting more of his weight on your body to keep you in place.

You don’t know what injuries König will acquire the next time he’s deployed, but for now, your mind is here – at this moment, with König holding you in his embrace and the steady beating of his heart proving that he’s alive and that he loves you.

#s0ulryo #s0ulryo writes #könig #könig cod #konig #konig cod #könig x reader #konig x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #modern warfare x reader #warzone 2.0 #warzone #call of duty modern warfare #konig mw2 #call of duty warzone

[bbytamaki]

more random obey me headcanons >:)

content: sfw headcanons, scars mentioned (from piercings), belphie has depression, all family love <3, not proofread >:((

note: i haven’t done any dateable hcs yet :(( might do some soon

— lucifer can’t stand bananas. it’s just a thing. even the smell will have him pressing his handkerchief over his mouth like a sick victorian man. does satan use this to his advantage? possibly.

— has very feminine hands. he covers them with gloves so he doesn’t have to hear asmo’s jealous whining. if anyone brings it up he’s not above strangling them with his dainty, girlish fingers.

— flexible. like shockingly. it doesn’t really come to light that often but every once in a while lucifer follows single mom yoga videos on the weekends.

— mammon has the prettiest facial features ever. like his eyes and lips look so good in candid photos. his magazine covers are the bane of asmo’s existence.

— bird tendencies. like i mean squawking and jumping like 3 feet in the air when startled. in his demon form he’s just a big parrot. he does the head tilt thing when he’s confused.

— if anyone stands in front of him for longer than a minute he’s picking lint out of their hair and fixing their clothes. his brothers have gotten more than used to his “preening” and either avoid standing around him for too long or just take it. lucifer does this too and sometimes they’ll just stand and fix each other’s clothes for like 5 minutes straight while everyone else is like “???”

— levi is tall. very tall. he’s just so scrawny and lanky and his posture is awful so you wouldn’t even notice until he actually straightens up to his full height. this rarely ever happens unless he’s in his demon form. when it does he is scary.

— cosplays online. his cosplay friends are some of his favorite people. he already sews his own costumes (as we’ve seen), and he’s really good at makeup. one of his future plans is to meet up in the human world to go to a con with his friends.

— screams like a little girl. one time mammon accidentally walked into the bathroom when levi was showering and he shrieked. lucifer ran to see what the commotion was because “how did a human child find their way into the devildom??” levi has never felt more embarrassed.

— satan watches trashy reality tv in his private time. bad girls club, keeping up with the kardashians, you name it.

— can sing the whole periodic table song by tom lehrer forward and backward. i think satan is actual really good at science and it would be his best and favorite subject.

— he just likes animals in general. he has a thing for bunnies after visiting a human world petting zoo.

— asmo has an abnormally long tongue, like surpassing attractive and approaching freakish. he usually keeps it in his mouth but once every so often decides to creep solomon out just for fun.

— has soooo many stripper friends. if you’re wondering how his hair and makeup stay in place the whole day, he learned from the best.

— he definitely designed an entire line of lingerie but only made one of each design. they’re ultra rare collectibles in the devildom and worth more than you could imagine.

— beel can french braid and make friendship bracelets like he’s going to a girl scout camp. nobody can tell me he didn’t hand make the necklaces he wears.

— speaking of martha stewart beel, he can crochet and makes blankets and cute plushies for belphie all the time.

— luke is actually his little brother and no one can convince him otherwise lol they go back and forth over nothing all the time and stop talking to each other until one of them says “what do you want for dinner”

— belphie is the king of doing his own piercings at home because why pay $50 for something he already knows how to do? he ends up taking some of them out before they heal because he gets tired of them and ends up with a bunch of scars on his face and body.

— you and beel are his dream journal. he texts the attic club gc after every nap to tell you guys what his latest dream was about. (you’re the two people that show up in his dreams the most.)

— goes absolutely dormant during depressive episodes. the complete opposite of his twin brother (beel has to keep busy at all times to stay distracted). asmo carries him to his private bathroom and lets belphie pick his favorite soaps and lotions (he likes the ones that smell like sandalwood, they remind him of taking naps in his brothers’ rooms).

#obey me #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

[tasteracha]

brother’s best friend

word count: 2.4k

warnings: possessive behavior, reader is called sweet girl, afab!reader

synopsis: you told your brother chan that his 25th birthday would be eventful, a true milestone, but even you couldn’t have prepared him for the mess that unraveled. or alternatively, minho, your brother's best friend, is your friends-with-benefits-but-with-feelings.

you and chan have always been more of best friends than siblings. having such a small age gap meant you always had the same teachers, the same hobbies, the same circles of friends - of which included lee minho. 

lee fucking minho. 

the man has been in your lives for longer than you can remember, since you used to ride around your neighborhood on your pink tricycle and him and chan would chase behind you like the young boys they were. the older you got the less annoying he seemed to you - you found yourself seeking out his company instead of shying away from it. it was different than the rest of chan’s boys. hyunjin and felix were your comfort, the ones you went to when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a hug to make all your problems disappear if only for a moment. changbin and jisung were chan’s right and left hands, or wings as they liked to call it. you couldn’t find your brother without those two anymore, it’s a good thing you like them so much otherwise you would go insane with their constant presence. jeongin and seungmin were the two youngest, snarky and pouty and your favorite thing to do was to smother them with cuddles and kisses just to hear their complaints. there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them.

minho somehow managed to encompass all of that. his comfort, his constant presence, his aversion to touch from anyone that isn’t you. it’s no wonder you ended up making out over the console of his car when he drove you home from a party last year. 

and again in a dingy club bathroom, away from prying eyes and secret-spilling lips.

and again under the tree that you used to climb together when you were younger.

and again. and again. and again.

the amount of times you’ve hooked up are more than you can count on both of your hands, now. you both know you’re exclusive even though neither of you have talked about it. there are too many feelings, too much history for it to be anything other than love, even if you’re unwilling to admit it yet. 

which leads you to now - sipping a fruity cocktail that’s probably more liquor than juice even though you can’t taste it. you’ve been nursing it for so long that the ice has melted and the condensation is dripping off your fingers, but it serves as a nice distraction from the guy that’s been trying to chat you up for the past hour or so. 

trying is the key word. he’s incredibly dull, and for every thirty words he’s spoken you’ve barely gotten in one. he’s been telling you about some business his friend is starting with him, and he reaches out to touch your shoulder when you finally catch sight of minho across the room. he turns towards you as if he feels your gaze on him, and his eyes harden when he sees the guy’s hand on you. 

if eyes could kill, the guy would have two burning holes smoking on the back of his head right now. you gently shrug the guys hand off of you, taking a sip of your drink as minho stalks across the room and slides up behind you, snaking an arm around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. his fingers are digging into your skin and you can feel the tense set of his jaw, and you waste no time twirling out of his hold.

“min,” you hiss. your grip on his arm like a vice as you drag him to the kitchen, flirty boy left behind with his hand still outstretched. if minho wasn’t wearing a jacket you’re sure your nails would be digging into his flesh right now. “what are you doing.”

“i’m just showing everyone here who you belong to, or have you forgotten?” he purrs out, not caring for a second how irritated you are at him. did you say you were in love with him? you take it back. not an ounce of love is present right now.

“you know we can’t,” you frown, knowing that his actions are because of his emotions, not because he wants to mess with you or chan. “not here.”

his eyes narrow and he lets out a breath, crossing his arms like a child. 

“if one more of those brats looks at you wrong, i won’t be able to stop myself.”

you didn’t know if it was a threat or a warning. maybe it was a promise. 

the night goes on. you try and stay glued to chan’s side the entire night, knowing that minho wouldn’t try anything with his best friend standing right there. it also helps that chan is always surrounded by his friends and not random guys that showed up because they heard about the event, so there was no opportunity for Jealous Minho to show his face. 

shit goes a little sideways when your bladder catches up with you and you have to use the bathroom, alone in your trek up the stairs where you know the cleanest one was. 

the flirty guy whose name you don’t remember is waiting at the foot of the stairs when you return, his insanely white smile glinting from the fairy lights you helped hang up earlier. 

“i thought i lost you,” he said, blocking your escape from the hallway. “i wanted to get your number? if that’s okay.”

before you could come up with some way to politely decline, minho reappears as if summoned by someone other than him giving you attention. he moves his body physically between you and the guy, baring his teeth like a cat. 

“she’s not available,” he almost growls, standing at his full height. it’s somehow intimidating even though the guy has a couple of inches on him. 

“whoa, okay,” the guy says, holding his hands up in surrender as he backs a foot away. “i didn’t know. no harm right?”

“there was definitely harm-“

“all good,” you interrupt minho, poking your head out from behind his shoulder. “nice meeting you, but you should probably go.”

he walks away and you expect minho to deflate, but he still stands with his hackles raised like a predator. 

“i was going to handle that,” you pout when he doesn’t say anything, honestly a little turned on by his caveman-like behavior even though you would never tell him that. he knows you can fight your own battles, even though he decided to step in. it’s a matter of him showing the guy who has a bigger dick, rather than him being narrow minded. 

“i’ll show you what you can handle,” he grumbles, gesturing at you to follow him as he stalks away. 

you follow him like a helpless moth to a flame as he leads you into the guest bedroom on the main floor. you let him, the fight inside of you having not left but waiting for the right moment. not in front of everyone, your brain supplies helpfully. 

“what, you didn’t want to use chan’s bedroom?” you ask as he closes the door behind you. “really seal in the deal, since there’s no way he doesn’t know about us now-“

he cuts you off with a searing kiss, his hands ember-warm on either side of your face as he holds you close to him. 

“do not talk about your brother when i’m about to fuck you,” he murmurs against your lips. 

oh. 

“who says i want you to?” you back away, false bravado coating your words. of course you want him to. you never stop wanting him. 

“you’re telling me you’re not wet right now?” he arches a brow at you. “i saw how you were looking at me. you forget how well i can read you.”

the unspoken sentiment of you can say no, it’s your choice is hidden in his words. you know him just as well as he knows you, well enough to be able to read between the lines that he’s laid out for you. 

but he’s right - you are wet. the feeling gets more intense as he steps back into your space and you let him, meeting his lips with a sigh. 

he kneels to the floor when you part, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down with your panties inch by inch. he presses fluttering kisses to each bit of skin that’s revealed until your legs feel weak and shaky. he tosses the clothes to the side once they’re off, not showing them a fraction of the reverence that he shows you as he stands and helps you to lay onto the bed, cushioning your head onto the pillows. 

he drapes his body over yours after dealing with his own pants and boxers, leaning his head down to kiss and bite at your neck as he slowly grinds against you. 

“mine,” he mumbles into your skin, making your skin flush and your entire body sing. 

“yes,” you breath out, tilting your head back for him. he jerks at your verbal confirmation, growling into your neck before leaning up on his forearm to look at you. 

“come on, my sweet girl,” he says, letting the head of his cock slide through your folds in an infuriatingly teasing way. it catches in your clit with each swipe and you have to bite your tongue to hold back the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth. the sounds coming from your bodies are already obscene enough. “show me who you belong to.”

“fuck, i’m your-“ your sentence can’t even make it out before he sinks into you in one full strike, his hips connecting with yours. a gasp leaves your throat and he smirks, a satisfied glint swimming in his eyes like there always is when he pulls out a reaction from you. 

“let me hear you,” he says, rocking into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him dragging in and out of you. you slide your hands into the back of his shirt and dig your nails into his muscle, letting out a moan when he pushes his hips even deeper. 

“yes, yes,” your voice is strangled, your breath is punched out with every push of his cock. you’re so full of him, he’s covering every inch of you and yet it’s not enough. “please, more?”

his eyes go soft when he looks at you, and he presses a kiss to your cheek, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. 

“how can i say no when you ask so nicely?” he says, voice soft and just bordering on condescending. he picks up his pace, the headboard rocking back and forth with your bodies as he rolls his hips in a steady rhythm. 

you’re letting out little staccato bursts of breath in tune with his movements that morph into thready moans when he switches his angle just so. he’s hitting that spot inside of you just right, making your entire body feel like it’s on fire and doused in ice water all at once. you feel the pressure building in your lower belly, too soon even though it feels like he’s been fucking you for hours. 

“come for me,” he pants out, the exertion catching up to him even though he doesn’t pause even for a moment. “please, baby, i need to see you fall apart for me.”

so you do. your legs shake as your orgasm takes over, clenching around him over and over and you can’t even keep track of the noises spilling out of your mouth because it feels so good. 

he keeps going, even as you begin to twitch in the pleasure-pain of oversensitivity until he’s pulling out and spilling onto your thighs. he collapses next to you, pulling you close so he can bury his face into your hair as you both come down from your highs. 

“i love you, you know that right?” it’s the first time you’ve said it to him. the timing is wrong, the location is wrong, but you couldn’t let yourself leave this room without telling him that. he jerks away and blinks as you, once, twice, three times before kissing you until you’re breathless again, not giving you any time to regret your words. 

“i love you too,” he says when he pulls back, his lips red and shiny where they’re pulled into a helpless smile. his hair is a mess and his eyes are watery and tinged a little pink but he looks beautiful. 

“well, lover,” you grin, pressing one last peck to his lips. “clean yourself off of me, please.”

his smile drops into a scowl but his eyes stay soft as he rolls off the bed to find a towel. he cleans you up gently and helps you back into your clothes, contrasted by the way he swats your butt once you’re both dressed. 

“my shirt is wrinkled,” you whine, looking down at the mussed up fabric hanging from your frame. 

“it’s a party, everyone’s shirt is wrinkled,” he says, smoothing his hands down your sides. “no one will notice.”

but when you return to the living room it’s not your shirt that you have to worry about. most of the party had left, leaving only seven of your closest friends. 

seven of your closest friends that are now staring at the two of you, all conversations paused when they notice you there.  

“really? minho?” chan says, arching an eyebrow. he looks stern, but you know him; it’s a show. he’s not really mad. a breath of relief rushes out of your lungs. “of all of them, minho? you couldn’t have chosen seungmin?”

“hey,” seungmin pouts from across the room, looking offended. you can’t help the laugh that bursts out of your lungs at the put-out expression on his face, and it’s like the tension in the room deflates. everyone relaxes, even minho, who sags against you a little bit.

“trust me minnie,” you start, shrugging. “if it was a choice i could make, i would have chosen you in a heartbeat.”

seungmin’s blinding smile is overshadowed by minho’s affronted shout, followed by a chorus of laughter from all the people you love. 

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n