#apparently this is exactly 1.7k

[crplpunkklavier]

can we perhaps get an apollojustice analysis🧐👉👈

he’s rude he has no volume control he cries in court he punches his clients he’s my sonsband he’s the light of my life. greg davies vc its LITTLE APOLLO JUSTICE

alright so i don’t know that i’d call any of what i do here a character analysis. i know you sent this in response to my post with klavier writing advice, so i’ll try to do the same here. this is a collection of things i try to keep in mind when i write apollo.

1. he’s rude

this one’s great. followers may know this about me, but i am also rude. it’s come up in my posts sometimes, because i actually have such poor manners that it becomes a problem for me every now and then. i swear a lot! it just comes out of me. sometimes, i have to write characters who don’t swear, or who swear very little, and that’s hell. that is hell for me. it’s a miracle i haven’t cursed yet in this post. just makes it easier to express shit, you know?

but apollo swears. i promise you that. apollo justice swears like a fuckin sailor. i…… will be honest i can’t be assed to find it, but there is a post on here where a lovely tumblr user broke down the speaking styles of various aa characters in the japanese original. if anyone wants to go find it and let me know, be my guest!! but what i remember about that is that apollo justice has a pottymouth. and ever since i’ve read that, i have clung to it with all my might. look me in the eyes. let apollo justice say fuck.

he also has no social skills. he isn’t rude on purpose! although i think sometimes he can be. i think he can be a mean little pissant when he doesn’t like someone. you know he would have ended daryan crescend’s life then and there if they hadn’t been in court.

but anyway, i think sometimes he is also just pretty bad at talking to people. he’s a lawboy! he’s built to practice law! he doesn’t know how to do anything else!! when he sees that vera is scared in the detention center, he makes the perhaps worst attempt at smalltalk we ever see in the entirety of the series. he doesn’t know how to be tactful, and he isn’t going to learn, because aside from law apollo is also all about truth. he sees lies, and he’s a bad liar himself, but sometimes lying is expected of you in social situations, and he’s not going to do it, and he won’t like it when other people do it. he’d rather be rude. and he will be. he will be very rude.

2. he has no volume control

as a person with adhd. very nice to write. i’ve never uttered a quiet sentence in my life. everything i’ve ever said i’ve screamed at the top of my lungs. also not on purpose! it just comes out that way.

if you write apollo justice, just remember to make him scream now and then. whenever he’s remotely excited about anything? scream. have him animate it with his body too! apollo’s sprites don’t just slam the desk, he hits it with both fists! he jumps back in surprise when something happens, and he pokes his big old forehead when he has to think. he’s an animated guy, and whatever reaction feels exaggerated to you in the moment is probably the one to go for.

3. he cries in court

and now, for something completely different.

he’s a little softie. :] we all remember apollo being in tears when he thought trucy had been kidnapped, even though he barely knew her then. he also mentions journaling in canon, where he goes back and leaves intricate retellings of his adventures in his diaries. also!! he really enjoys lamiroir’s music. for all that he’s loud and brash and impulsive, at the end of the day, the man probably sits down with a cup of tea and a soft-lit desk lamp to write about his day.

i would also like to take this moment to remind everyone of his reaction to meeting plum kitaki.

???: You, kid with the hair. You want something? Apollo: Urk! M-M-Me? No, not a thing! Bye! Trucy: Apollo! We can't leave without questioning her! What if she knows something! Apollo: B-But th-the Kitaki Family...! (They're the biggest organized crime syndicate in town!) ???: If you're going to ask something, ask it. If you're man enough. Apollo: Waaaaugh! R-Right! Trucy: Yay! Way to whip him into shape, ma'am! Apollo: (Does she know no fear!?) Plum: I'm Plum. Plum Kitaki. Wife of the fourth head of the Kitaki Family business. Friends call me Little Plum. Apollo: I-I'm l-little Apollo Justice, attorney at law. *gulp*

that’s right. he’s little apollo justice. :) cmaaahn. he’s just a little guy, and it’s also his birthday.

4. he punches his clients

ok, he punched one client.

i’m bringing these up in this order though because i think apollo’s impulsiveness is a really fun juxtaposition to him shaking and sobbing at having to speak to a woman on the street and in broad daylight, across from an active police scene swarming with cops no less, just because her name is kitaki. because i still think he IS impulsive.

i’ve had klavier bring this up in exorcism because it’s still one of my favorite apollo bits:

Klavier: Let us imagine you are walking through the park. You see two men facing each other. One with a pistol trained on the other. ...What would you do, Herr Forehead? Apollo: Well, I... I guess... I would try to stop them. I'd probably shout, "Stop!" Klavier: And you, Fräulein? Trucy: M-Me? Well... I'd probably scream, "Eeeeeek!" [a bit later] Stickler: Tossing the pistol aside, he fled from the scene. Apollo: [Hold it!] You didn't try to apprehend the criminal? 

i just… i mean, who would. who in their right mind would “try to apprehend the criminal.” i’d shit my pants, klavier, that’s what i’d do in that situation.

but apollo seems pretty sure that he would intervene, and you know what? i believe him. i think if apollo justice walked through a park and saw a guy shoot someone and then take off, he would fully chase after him like a fucking rabid dog, and then he’d probably jump him and call the cops, and when they’d get there they’d find bite marks on the guy for some reason.

he just also gets really scared when he sees mafiosi, instead of attempting to arrest them. essentially i just think, apollo sees something, anything, and reacts to it in the biggest, wildest way possible. a mafioso will have a normal conversation with him and apollo will scream and cry. a passerby will hold a knife to someone’s throat and apollo will single-handedly beat him to a pulp. phoenix wright will smile at him and apollo will uppercut his childhood hero. it doesn’t have to make sense. it just has to be batshit.

5. other stuff

two more things i’ve thought about a lot while learning to write apollo are his loyalty and his confidence.

loyalty first: there is not an ounce of misplaced loyalty in this man. once it became clear that kristoph was the borscht bowl club killer, apollo was on him, and he took him down. i fully believe that if phoenix had been the killer, apollo would have done the exact same to him. there is one moment in turnabout succession when kristoph first takes the stand, where apollo kind of gulps and thinks that this still feels like he’s his mentor, but he gets over that PRETTY quickly lol. and he wasn’t thinking about sparing kristoph for being his mentor, he just remembered to stand up straight and be a good lawyer in front of him.

confidence second. i get. SO bothered. when people write apollo without it. you listen to me. this five foot nothing freak thinks he is the best thing since sliced bread, and as a german person it’s difficult for me to say this about bread, but he’s right.

apollo thinks he’s fucking fantastic. he’s VERY proud of his vocal routine, he thinks it’s GREAT that he screams every thought he’s ever had. he’s really nerdy about law, he tells plum and trucy that he loves long and boring procedures as a lawyer, shamelessly. he very firmly believes in his hairstyle. everything you see apollo justice do he does on purpose. (which also makes me think that he knows EXACTLY what he does when he rolls up his shirt sleeves every morning. whore.)

the few times we see all of this slip is when he has to deal with rock star klavier. there’s a couple of times where he thinks that he wishes he could be as cool as klavier, but i’ve honestly never read that as apollo suddenly becoming self-conscious. i genuinely think he’s just annoyed that there’s someone whose shtick (being a very weird very loud lawyer but tall and with a guitar) looks cooler than his own shtick (being a very weird very loud lawyer but short and with no guitar). apollo thought he was hot shit before he met klavier and he continues to think he’s hot shit after he’s met klavier, but now he also thinks that he should be rich and famous for being apollo justice because that would make him even cooler. and, again, i kind of agree.

i think that’s mostly it? he’s a good guy and i like him. he gets annoyed with his clients for being weirdos sometimes, but there is that underlying theme in aa4 where all of apollo’s clients did commit a crime, just not murder, and apollo never drops them for it. he is an almost exact replica of hercule poirot in that he is short, weird, REALLY sure of himself, and doesn’t care if people commit crimes except if it’s murder, in which case he cares so much that he becomes a feral animal. all he needs is a mustache. and he’d probably think he’d look really cool with one too.

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[targaryenluvs]

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

[jjunieworld]

UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOM TREE ˒˒ 최범규

it’s confession day and you want nothing more than to receive a confession from your longtime friend, beomgyu.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi beomgyu x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 yeonjun, soobin, and yeji from itzy

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining but you both are oblivious, highschool au ???

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ literally watched beomgyu’s cover and music video and was struck by sudden inspiration and motivation and i just had to write something based off it! ❀ so here is a super cute little drabble in honor of beomgyu’s cover, i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1.7k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was a day you both loved and absolutely hated—confession day. the day where you confess your feelings to the one who you like most.

the hallways were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help being lured to the feeling. everyone was alight with what the day could possibly behold. as you made your way to your locker to put your bag away, you heard various snippets of conversations:

“i’m scared to open my locker! what if there isn’t any note inside?” “—and he wrote for me to meet him on the football field after school!” “who do you think yeonjun will confess to? i heard from hana that he was eying her, but mina said the same thing!” “well i heard hana say that jake was going to confess to her today on the rooftop!” “—to meet near the school gates!”

a soft smile made its way onto your lips. confession day—at least the start of it—was always one that made you happy inside. you loved seeing other people finally confess their feelings to to each other. it was also fun for you and your friends to make bets on who would confess to who.

just as you reached for the lock of your locker, you friend yeji ran up to you with a thrilled expression, her black hair flying into her face as she came to a sudden stop. “it’s confession day!” she squealed repeatedly, brushing her hair out of her face and linking her arm with yours once you got your books out. “who do you think will confess to who later today?”

“apparently hana has many suitors,” you shrugged and the two of you giggled slightly as you walked the halls slowly to your homeroom. suddenly yeji turned to you, a playful grin lighting up her face with a scrunched nose. oh god, you thought, what is she about to say?

she tickled your side, making you squirm away with a laugh. “do you think beomgyu is going to confess to you today?” she asked. you swatted her hand away, heat creeping up your neck as you looked forward to try and hide how flustered the question made you. you shrugged again, hopeful smile curling your lips.

beomgyu sat at his desk surrounded by his two friends, yeonjun and soobin. he shifted a sealed envelope from hand to hand, “to y/n” written on it. the red striped tie and dark blue blazer of his uniform suddenly seemed so constricting. “—and tell me exactly what you wrote in the letter,” he heard the tail end of yeonjun’s sentence.

beomgyu had already told soobin just minutes prior and he sighed softly as he dragged his eyes up from the letter. nerves flowed through him as he recounted the letter again for yeonjun.

dear, y/n

would you meet me under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks after school?

beomgyu

it was a very simple letter, really. beomgyu had wanted to give his confession in person to you rather than through a letter or any other means. yeonjun’s face contorted in thought. “maybe spice it up a little?” he suggested.

“i like it. it’s simple and right to the point. besides, he said he wants to confess in person,” soobin cut in before beomgyu could. yeonjun hummed before nodding slowly. “i guess it could work!”

just as yeonjun finished talking, the homeroom door opened. you and your friend—yeji, who he’s come to know of—stepped through; arms linked as you leaned into each other to whisper something he couldn’t hear. a low laugh emitted from you and beomgyu swore it was the prettiest, most melodic thing he has ever heard.

the sunlight from the open blinds of the classroom cascaded down onto your frame, illuminating you like you were on a stage. beomgyu just couldn’t believe how pretty you were. your eyes connected with his, that bright smile of yours still on your face, and you waved your hand slightly to wave at him. your bright smile turned sheepish as you quickly looked away and you and yeji made it to your seats.

from just one look, beomgyu could practically see your future together. he wanted to be yours and you to be his so desperately. he wanted to do simple day to day activities with you, like helping you with homework and putting your books into your locker. he wanted to take you to the movies and talk about what you decided to see and walk you home after, fingers just barely brushing past each other. you were just so cute.

“look at him, there’s literally hearts in his eyes,” beomgyu distantly heard yeonjun say. his eyes were still on you until fingers snapped in his face, startling him back to reality. soobin pulled back his arm with a laugh and beomgyu rolled his eyes. he glanced back to you briefly, small smile forming on his face before returning his attention back to his friends.

beomgyu looked down again at the letter in his hands. he had meant to put it in your locker this morning before you arrived, but chickened out at the last second. that’s why he was here, enlisting the help of his two idiot bestfriends to ensure everything goes off without a hitch.

soobin laid a hand on beomgyu’s shoulder and patted it comfortingly, “you got this, man! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeonjun nodded in agreement. beomgyu sighed and tucked the letter under his books. he hesitantly let their words fill him with confidence and hope. i really hope she does, he thought.

you turned slightly and looked over your shoulder, just barely catching a glimpse of beomgyu. you turned back towards yeji with a lovesick smile. “it’ll happen, don’t worry! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeji comforted you. you just sighed and directed the conversation to a different topic. i really hope he does, you thought.

when you were grabbing your bag from your locker, mid conversation with yeji, a small white envelope fluttered to the ground at your feet. yeji gasped as you bent to pick it up with wide eyes. yeji drew closer to you, hiding the letter from the view of the other students making their way towards the entrance of the school. “open it, open it!” she exclaimed.

with a deep breath you carefully opened the envelope that had “to y/n” written on it in familiar handwriting. carefully you opened up the delicate letter and read the contents, yeji beside you taking in every word as well. you froze in shock for a split second before a wide smile broke out onto your face and it took everything in you to keep from jumping up and down.

“he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks…” you breathed lowly, shock still reeling you. you repeated yourself, each word getting louder as you turned and grasped yeji’s hands with excitement and almost crinkling the letter, “he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks!”

you had gathered the attention of the students walking by and heat suddenly spread across your face and immediately calmed you down. unfortunately, just as you shrunk into your locker, your eyes briefly connected with beomgyu’s bestfriend and resident golden boy of your school—choi yeonjun.

he looked in your direction and you just barely managed to catch the smile he gave to beomgyu’s other bestfriend—choi soobin—and the words forming from his lips.

your grip on yeji’s hands tightened as you quickly pulled her towards the girls restroom. “oh my god!” she exclaimed and began jumping the two of you up and down. excited giggles left both of your lips and echoed off the walls of the restroom.

“oh my god,” yeji repeated, suddenly serious. “he means meet him now. you have to go, like, right now!” worry suddenly broke through all your emotions at the possibility of beomgyu thinking that you wouldn’t show. yeji started pushing you towards the door of the restroom.

“oh my god!” you worriedly repeated yeji’s words. in response, all she repeated was, “go, go, go!”

you booked it out of the restroom and out of the school, running all the way until you saw the familiar cherry blossom tree down the hill in front of where the school sat. distantly, you saw beomgyu’s figure waiting for you and you inhaled deeply as you made slow strides towards him. you held the letter close to your heart and tried to control your nerves the closer and closer you got to the tree.

at your incoming footsteps, beomgyu turned to you and you gasped softly and how beautiful he was. a flustered—and somewhat sheepish—smile spread across your face and you stepped just mere inches from where he stood. “i got your letter,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.

the falling cherry blossoms around beomgyu’s head and soft afternoon light framed him perfectly and it made you wonder just how lucky you were that you were the one he chose to confess to.

beomgyu opened his mouth, only to close it and have a matching sheepish smile overtake it. just as he went to open it again, a cherry blossom fell onto his head, caught in the dark strands of his hair. he looked up, just as you did as well, and you both chuckled. “can we start seeing each other?” beomgyu ask you quietly, plucking the flower from his hair and holding it out to you.

if it were even possible, your smile widened and you accepted the outstretched flower. from the corner of your eye saw yeji, yeonjun, and soobin huddle together behind a bush directly across from the two of you. yeji nudged them out of the way to get a good look but accidentally ruffled some of the leaves of the bush. you saw the three of them drop down quick as lightning behind the bush before you or beomgyu could see them.

you nodded and softly spoke, “i would really like that.” a toothy grin spread on beomgyu’s lips. finally, the one he adored the most was his.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @rapmonie2047 @jeonghaniehaee @nxzz-skz @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Hiii I love your account! 🐇 with Rafe please and “You’re so annoying” and “you look pretty like this” if I can pick two hehe

Omg thank you so much!! Of course you can pick two! I hope you like it! Thank you to my angel @babygorewhore for beta reading🖤🤭

This is for my 1.6k celebration🎀🖤

Warnings: Reader is Topper’s sister, enemies to fucking?, blow job, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, a lil bit of degradation. 18+MNDI!! W.k: 1.7k

Rafe has been driving you nuts since, well, as long as you can remember, but he’s driving you especially insane today. All you wanted to do was lay by the pool with your fruity little drink and read your dirty romance novel. But no, apparently Rafe didn’t want you to have a moment of peace while you were home from college for the summer. Why your brother had to choose him as a best friend and then also choose to stick with it for this long is beyond you. So he was just always around and it seemed like lately you couldn’t escape him no matter what you did.

The minute they got to the house with beers you asked Topper if they’d fuck off and chill inside but Rafe insisted they hang out in the back.

“It’s nice out, and I just can’t pass up this view.” He smirks at you as he leans back in one of your mom’s plush patio chairs, his eyes drinking in your barely there bikini.

“Rafe, that’s my sister man, how many times do I have to tell you that she’s -“ Rafe cuts Topper off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“She’s off limits, yeah, yeah, I know the fuckin’ drill Top.” That doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you every ten seconds. Sending you subtle little winks over Topper’s shoulder, practically fucking you with his eyes and you hate how much you like it. You can’t stand how much your body betrays you when it comes to Rafe fucking Cameron. He makes you want to rip your hair out, he’s arrogant, rude, and a classic spoiled preppy frat boy in every way. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so god damn sexy.

“The fact that you guys are being so fucking loud that I can hear you with my music on full blast is actually insane to me.” You slam your book shut as you dramatically pull your headphones off your head.

“Maybe you should stop being so fucking boring and come chill with us then.” Rafe blows out a hit as he holds the bong towards you. “Wanna hit?”

“You? Never.” You scoff, crossing your arm as you glare over at him.

“You think you’re reaaal clever, huh? I know you’re lying, you want me so bad.” Rafe snorts, setting the bong down on the table before leaning back in the chair with his arms behind his head and his legs spread. Fuck.

“You know what? I’m over this. Bye.” You shake your head as you grab your things, making sure to send Rafe a death glare on your way inside the house.

You’re inside for maybe five minutes when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Fuck off, Top! I’m changing, I don’t wanna hear how sorry you are for how much of an asshole Rafe is for the millionth time!”

“Exactly how big of an asshole am I? Huh, princess?” The sound of Rafe’s voice on the other side of your door has you practically growling as you storm towards it and rip it open.

“You’re so annoying, Rafe, you know that!? You’re like a fucking fly or some shit, always buzzing around with no real thoughts in your head!!!” You glare up at him as your eyes meet his own, stomping your foot in frustration.

“You look pretty like this, ya know?” He rests his hand on the side of the door frame as he smirks down at you.

“Like fucking what, Cameron!?”

“All pissed off at me n’ shit.” He chuckles, leaning down further so his face is only a few inches from your own. His breath smells like weed and beer but his lips are so fucking kissable that it actually just pisses you off more. “I think you’re just mad because you wanna fuck me and you’re in denial about it.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t even know if you believe yourself because you sound so full of shit.

“I mean, yeah. It also doesn’t hurt that you still have on that tiny little bikini…” He wets his lips with his tongue as his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. He drags his thumb across your glossy bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “I don’t hear you denying it, baby.”

“I - You know what? Fuck it.” You practically lunge forward to lace your fingers into the material of his shirt using the grip to pull his mouth down to yours in a bruising kiss. He grips onto your hips, pulling you until you’re flush against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth and practically devours you before pulling away with a fucking smirk painted on his face.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew you wanted me.” He bites his lip while he looks down at you like he won the fucking lottery.

“Shut up, don’t be a fuck boy about it or I’m not letting you anywhere near my pussy, Cameron.” You glare up at him with your lips set into that irritated little pout that makes him want to shove his cock between them.

“Your pussy? Shit, baby, you gonna let me fuck you? I’ve been wanting to wipe that bratty fuckin’ look off your face for years.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I wanna wipe that cocky fucking look off of yours.” You grab onto his hand, pulling him through the doorway, practically slamming it closed behind him. You push him up against it before dropping to your knees and making quick work of undoing his shorts.

“Shit, been fuckin’ dreaming about that pretty little mouth around my cock nonstop.” You pull his cock free and you can’t even hide the shocked look on your face at the sight of it. He was fucking huge. Long and thick and so fucking hard, god you can’t stand him.

“No wonder you’re so fucking arrogant, you would have a fucking monster cock.” You roll your eyes as you look up at him and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to say some smug bullshit so you grab onto his shaft and spit on it.

“Oh fuckkk, yeah, get it all fuckin’ wet.” He laces his fingers through your hair with a groan when you start to jerk him off. You pump him a few times before smirking up at him and taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. “God damn, baby, knew you had a mouth on you but shit.”

You pull almost all the way off of him, just sucking his tip as you swirl your tongue around it, flicking it along the slit. You work the rest of him with your spit slick palm as you look up at him. And god. He drives you insane in every fucking way. He looks so hot, you hate him for looking so hot. His mouth is hanging open as grunts and profanities leave it. Those ocean blue eyes keep rotating between boring down into your own and rolling in the back of his head, that stupid ass button up he’s wearing is riding up a little and showing a sliver of his waist and his shoulders fill it out so perfectly.

“Take this shit off.” Rafe uses the hand not in your hair to grab onto the top tie of your bikini top and pull the knot loose. “Fuck, fuckin’ knew you had perfect tits.”

You pull off of him with a pop, a string of drool still connected to your lips from his cock. When it breaks it drips down onto your chest between your tits and the sight makes his cock twitch in your hand.

“Yeah? Bet you wanna touch them sooo bad.” You mock pout at him as you bring your free hand up to fondle your tits.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, princess.” Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens and it causes you to let out a breathy moan. “Oh? You like it rough? Open your fuckin’ bratty little mouth.”

You stick your tongue out for him and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back down to his cock. He glides it across your tongue a few times, hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You wrap your lips around his cock and swallow causing your throat to constrict around him. He starts to thrust into your mouth while you continue to practically swallow his cock, swirling your tongue while you finally take what he gives you.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, little brat, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” When you reach up to fondle his balls he throws his head back and his free hand flys to his hair, tugging at the strands almost as hard as he’s tugging on your own. “God damn, keep doing that - fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

“Yo Rafe, where you at!?” Topper’s voice travels up from downstairs and Rafe’s grip on your hair loosens as his thrusts abruptly stop. But you’re not having that, you start to bob your head up and down, giving his balls attention as you deep throat him.

“Baby - shit - I’m gonna cum down that slutty little throat, don’t stop.” You don’t, you suck him off like your life depends on it, drool dripping down his balls, down your chin, all over your tits. God, your tits, they’re bouncing so deliciously and you look so fucking hot with your mascara running down your eyes like that, it has his cock twitching in your mouth. His cum spurts down your throat and you swallow every drop. “That’s it, good girl, fuckin’ swallow that shit.”

“Where are you man? You better not be fucking with my sister again dude!” You hear Topper’s footsteps coming up the stairs and Rafe turns to lock the door.

“Yeaaah, it’s a little too late for that, Top.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs you by the hips and throws you on the bed causing you to giggle. “I suggest you fuck off if you don’t wanna hear her screaming my name though.”

“Dude!”

“Goodbye, Topper!! Get away from my fucking door!!” You hear him scoff before his footsteps recede back down the stairs.

“Now, where were we?” Rafe smirks at you while he wraps his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

[ohbo-ohno]

Prompt requests: 1) Price x Reader - abandoned farm / waking up in a random room with no idea who/where/why/how you got there 2) Soap x Reader - forest / dealing with strange natural (or not-so-natural) phenomena 3) Ghost x Reader - the only other car in the abandoned parking lot / being followed

1k game here

i went ahead and just did one of these! i've got several requests in my inbox still, but i might come back and add another one you had later :)

1.7k of your ex-boyfriend ghost catching up with you. no smut!

The car's been tailing you since you left work.

It's a discreet car, and you probably wouldn't have even noticed it if you hadn't run several errands before starting to head home. The driver isn't even trying to be subtle - he never parks more than a spot away from you and he never lets another car get between you and him on the road.

You already know who he is. You hate to admit it to yourself, but you know.

Ghost always was possessive. It's not a leap to think he'd be pissed at the idea of anyone getting close to even your car.

Plus, he probably wants you to know he's following you. He always was a sadistic bastard, always liked the see the pain he was causing.

There's no one you can call for help. You didn't rat him out the first time you ran, and you're not going to now. There's no way you could get the police to keep you safe without telling them all about Ghost and his secrets, and you'd be better of just surrendering to Ghost's wrath at that point.

You take a deep breath and tighten your hands around the wheel.

You can't get help.

You can't run - he's tailing you too closely for that.

You can't fight - you don't keep your gun in your car, and you've never been a match for Simon hand-to-hand.

You pull into a dark parking lot, one that's almost entirely empty save for a few people waiting at the bus stop. You take a few deep breaths as you pull to a stop as far away from the bus stop as you can, trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

The car parks a spot away. Just seconds later, he's climbing out of the driver's side and striding towards you.

You knew it was him. He'd never send a henchman after you, even all these months later with so much distance between the two of you.

He's clothed entirely in black - like he always is on the job, apparently black hides bloodstains best - and comes to a stop right in front of your window, so your just staring into a wall of darkness.

You roll the window down, the awkward silence heavy.

The first thing you notice when he ducks down is that he's wearing the mask. Not the one sewn onto a balaclava, but one with the skull pattern printed onto the balaclava itself.

"Get out," he grunts. His first words to you in nearly a year and they're a command.

You scowl. This is exactly why you ran in the first place.

"No." You try to infuse as much confidence into your voice as possible, but you know you fail.

He huffs. "Love, c'mon, I'm not playing games. Get out of the car."

You shake your head, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white.

"No! I don't have to listen to you - especially when you've been stalking me all day-"

He sighs loudly, and before you can complain he's reaching through the window and opening the door for himself, quickly ducking into your car.

"Hey, stop!" You try, batting away his hands when he unbuckles your seatbelt, pulling you up by the waist until your standing unsteadily against him. "You have no right-!"

"Baby. Shut up." He growls, reaching around you to tug the key out of the ignition, the hand around your waist affording you no wiggle room.

"Don't you tell me to shut up!" You complain, pushing against his chest as he starts to nudge you in front of him. "I haven't had to deal with you in nearly a year and the first things you think to say to me are an order and shut up? Fuck you, asshole!"

There's a low chuckle at your back, and he turns you around to pin you to the car. Your breath hitches as he presses your chests together, ducking low enough that you can't look anywhere but his eyes.

"I missed you," he says, low and secretive.

God, you wish you could hate him. Everything would be so much easier if you hated him.

"Let me go," you say, forcing sternness into your voice.

"No."

"I'm serious," you try, pushing at the center of his chest. He only uses the pressure as an excuse to lean closer, draping himself over you.

"I'm serious too, love. You're never leaving my line of sight again."

You shut your eyes against the wave of longing that brings. He used to talk like that all the time, back before you realized how deep he was in his life of crime.

Gonna keep you forever, love.

Might chain you to the bed. Keep you safe at home, make sure I always know where you are. Little fuckdoll waiting at home for me, hm?

Never letting you leave me. Never.

I can't stand to be apart from you, love. It feels like I'm missing a limb.

You can't leave - you know that, don't you? I'll hunt you down, baby. This isn't a relationship you can get away from.

Simon was always a little possessive, a little controlling. Sometimes it got you off, and sometimes it scared you. In the weeks leading up to your escape, it did a lot more of the latter.

"We're broken up," you say on an exhale, looking back up at him. He's tugged the mask up to his nose, and his warm breath ghosts over your face. "I left you. We're not together anymore, Ghost."

He nearly flinches at that name, stiffening against you. "Don't call me that."

You don't correct yourself, and one of his hands comes up to collar your throat.

"I'm not joking. You don't call me that, understood?"

He applies just the slightest bit of pressure on either side of your neck and you fold like wet cardboard. Nodding quickly and taking a big deep breath in when he stop squeezing.

"What do you call me?" He bites, leaning closer until you're almost brushing noses. You try to flinch back but can't make it very far. "Say it. What do you call me?"

"Simon," you blurt out, nearly a plea. You haven't been near his intensity in so long, it's hard to handle now. You drop your eyes shamefully, unable to look at him.

"Good girl," he purrs, hand moving upwards to cup your chin and tilt it up. You can't help but meet his eyes, and the softness there nearly breaks your heart. "I'm never Ghost for you, only Simon. You got that?"

"You hunted me down like a dog."

He smiles at that, leans close enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. "I got you back. You're the one who ran away, love. It's a scary world out there, I can't leave you all alone."

"I don't need you to help me."

"You will. You'll need me again. Everything will go back to just how it was, and you'll see how good it is again. I'll take care of you."

That makes your heart beat a little faster, makes your breath quicken.

The first few months with Simon were... well, not heavenly but certainly good. Things were at their best when you first moved in - when he was still eager to dodge work for you, and when you didn't realize how violent "work" really was. Things only started getting bad when you started putting the pieces together.

"You can't protect me from your world, Simon," you whisper, tilting your head towards him just enough to bump your foreheads together. That's the whole reason you had run in the first place - nearly getting kidnapped and having a gun held to your head had been more than enough to scare you out of his world.

"I can," he growls, pressing closer to you. "You just have to let me. You didn't know before, but now you do. Now I can make sure you know how to keep yourself safe when I'm not there."

"But I shouldn't have to!" You exclaim, tears welling in your eyes. Why can't he just understand? "I don't want to always be looking over my shoulder, always waiting for someone to hurt me, or to hurt you-"

"That's not going to happen."

"You don't know that!" You explode, shoving at his chest as he tears slip past your waterline.

"I do," he snarls, the first hints of anger painting his words. "I can keep my woman safe. I can keep what's mine safe."

You sniffle as you look up at him, bottom lip quivering.

You're not even sure what to say at this point. What else is there?

He seems to realize you've run out of words and deflates against you, curling both of his arms around your waist and holding you as close as he can while resting his chin on top of your head.

"It'll be okay, love," he comforts, swaying side to side. "I get why you ran, alright? I know you were scared, and that's my fault. It won't happen again. But it's time to stop running and to come home. You know that's where you're meant to be."

You sniffle against him, blinking into the dark fabric of his shirt.

"You scare me," you confess quietly, safe without his eyes boring into yours.

He only stiffens for a moment, then goes soft against you again. "I know."

One hand moves up to pet over your hair, stroking across your head in the exact way that always makes you feel a little loose limbed. It works now, and you give him a bit more of your weight.

"You're scared because you're smart. I'd be worried if you weren't scared. I shoulda known before that I couldn't keep my job from you, and that's on me. If I had told you, you might not have run."

"I would have."

He snorts, tugs a lock of your hair. "Shush. I promise, things will be different this time. Better. All cards on the table."

Your hands tentatively wrap around him, linking at the small of his back. You've always loved how big he is compared to you, how protected you feel in his shadow.

Even now, knowing what you know, you still feel that way.

It's that thought that has you finally breaking down, leaning into his hold and squeezing him tight to you.

"Oh, love," he sighs, squeezing you as tightly as he can without hurting you. "It's alright, you're okay. Just get it all out. Everything's going to be alright."

As much as you hate it, you think he might be right.

[redocity]

ooo what about buck & reader at maddie and chimney's wedding and buck's trying to coax reader into dancing but they're a lil shy and it's soft and cute and you can decide whether they're already together or not!!

TAKE MY HAND - E.BUCKLEY

buck has an inherent knack for involving you in absolutely everything even if you’re happy to sit on the sidelines, and sometimes you question whether it’s just coming from a place of friendship.

WARNINGS: alcohol, swearing

evan buckley x gn!reader || fluff || 1.7k || requests open!

a/n: now this is what i’m talking about 🤭 thanks for the request ml <33

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

The porch light you’re sat under serves as both your respite and your downfall.

It’s strong enough to light your phone screen and make your prosecco glitter in a way that makes your tipsy brain extremely satisfied, but it also lights you up like a glowstick as you avoid the terrace turned dance-floor like the plague.

You’re more than content to sit with your sparkly drink and watch as the rest of the team joke and dance under Maddie and Chimney’s lead, their house transformed into the perfect reception party venue with the help of Hen and Buck’s manual labour.

It really was something to celebrate, two people you’d come to consider as family being joint together under an eternal promise of love and sole devotion to each other.

But apparently your form of celebrating wasn’t ‘celebratory’ enough for a certain someone.

“Come on, time to dance,” Buck plucks the flute glass from your palm, replacing it with his left hand instead to pull you to your feet.

“Oh no I’m good-” You shake your head with a small laugh as you tug a resistance against his hand, intent on remaining firmly sat in your chair.

It did not matter how much you’d had to drink, the idea of dancing in front of a group of people, your honorary family or not, made you want to dig yourself an early grave.

“Come on, we’re at a wedding reception, we’ve gotta dance,” Buck had decidedly had at least a few more drinks than you had, although you’re sure you’d be in a similar situation even if he was stone cold sober.

He always made an effort to include absolutely everyone, which mostly meant you.

Actually it always meant you.

It wasn’t like you were being left out or anything, you just didn’t have the outgoing nature of the rest of your team when it came to being out of the fire station, which often left you in your own little bubble off to the sidelines.

It wasn’t like you weren’t content with that either, and that was something that Buck knew.

But he still made an effort to get you directly involved anyway.

Buck’s gotta Buck you suppose.

He gives a soft tug on your hand to try and prompt you to stand again, and you give it another bout of resistance with your lips pressed into an awkward line. “You can go and dance if you want,”

“No no,” Buck takes it upon himself to finish your glass by tipping the whole thing into his mouth, to which to gesture outwards in mild exasperation. “We are going to dance,”

“I am not drunk enough to dance in front of a group of people, and you just downed the possibility of that happening,” You shake your head in feigned disapproval as he puts the glass back down on the table, and he mirrors it himself, completely undeterred.

“We can get you another drink,” He gives your hand another tug, a little harder this time, his usual boisterous behaviour only amplified under the low buzz from his alcohol consumption. “You gotta have fun,”

“I am having fun,” You allow him to pull you to your feet this time, making a show of exaggeratedly sighing as you meet his eyes with your own.

“Not enough fun in my opinion,” Once you’re standing upright, he takes it as an open invitation to pull you onto the makeshift dance-floor, taking both of your hands in his own to ensure that you don’t try to slip away on the way there.

It’s innocent enough, and not exactly revolutionary in the land of Evan Buckley’s casual affection, but under your slightly alcohol-induced haze, the brushing of his fingers against your palms makes a warm feeling shoot up your arms and settle in your chest.

“I don’t even know how to dance-” Your tone comes off as mildly self-deprecating, something that Buck does not take lightly as he wedges the two of you into a small area that hasn’t yet been taken over by your drunken coworkers as they sway and jump around to the pop-rock song playing in the background.

“Dancing is subjective,” The way he furrows his eyebrows suggests that he’s offended at you even suggesting that you’re not good at something like being able to dance, and he tugs and pushes at your arms gently in alternation to put the two of you into a rhythm that matches the beat of the song. “As long as you are having fun, it doesn’t matter what you look like,”

The motion is enough to break a small smile onto your face, a short chuckle escaping your mouth as you entertain his musings by returning the push and pull motion of his arms with your own.

“Plus,” He bends his elbows to bring himself a little closer to you, leaning to speak against your ear over the music. “I think everyone’s too drunk to tell you have sloppy dance moves,”

“Hey-” You open your mouth in feigned astoundment, a sharp laugh joining the gasp that leaves your mouth.

“You’re so stiff,” Buck finds great enjoyment in laughing at your inherent lack of ‘grace’ when it comes to dancing, his hands sliding up your forearms to hold your elbows and try to loosen up your joints by massaging his fingers into your skin. “Relax,”

“You are way too excited,”

“My sister just got married to one of my closest friends, of course I’m excited,” Buck tilts his head to the side slightly, the warm overhead lighting hitting his eyes in a way that makes them look like he’s standing in front of a sunset.

“And you’re also completely shitfaced,” You can’t say much considering the four glasses of prosecco you’d had yourself, but you could just tell that Buck was going to have a hangover tomorrow.

“So?” He tilts his head downwards ever so slightly. “I’m having fun, drinking, eating good food, dancing with my best friend, just— soaking up the good vibes you know?”

You can’t really argue with that.

“Uh huh, right,”

“I am right,” Buck gives you that over-confident smirk, the one that’s become his trademark, and the one that has so much more of an effect on you right now than it ever has before this moment in time*. “All just good vibes*,”

You can hear the song fade out underneath Buck’s rebuttal, with the next song being remarkably more calm although still just as bright as the one before it.

“Here’s what I’m talking about,” Buck gives a nod in satisfaction at the new tune. “Let’s teach you how to dance,”

“What?” The word leaves your mouth more as a laugh than a question, and it’s like Buck ignores you completely as he lays your hands onto his shoulders and slides his down to rest gently against your sides, right over your ribcage.

It truly was remarkable how he was always so gentle despite himself, and it was not helping the way you were already perceiving him tonight.

“Now, dancing is really just swaying if you think about it,” He uses his hands like an example for his conclusion as he guides your movements with them, literally swaying your weight between your feet as he mirrors you in doing the same. “That simple,”

He chuckles like he’s just told you some revolutionary secret. and you honestly can’t be sure whether it’s the alcohol talking or just Buck being himself.

Either way, it’s enough for him to break out into a soft smile, one that washes over his features like waves on the shore and settle into his muscles like water into sand. “See? You’re doing great,”

“I’m not doing anything,”

“Sure you are, you’re letting me push you out of your comfort zone,” He tilts his head forward towards you a little, smile ever present on his face. “That’s something,”

You let out a small breath, lowering your head to rest it against his shoulder momentarily. “Whatever you say,”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” His eyes chase yours for contact once you pull back enough that he can see your whole face again. “You should let me do this more often,”

“How about no?”

“You know you can’t resist me,” Buck chuckles at your denial. “I always get you in the end,”

“I suppose you do,” You let your head tilt to the side as your expression slowly mirrors his in the content smile you have washing over your face. “Maybe I’m just a pushover,”

“Or maybe,” He leans forward a little, halting your swaying for a second so he can put emphasis on his words. “You just like spending time with me like this,”

“That too I guess,”

Buck chuckles at your response, something you reciprocate yourself as you rest your head against the curve of his shoulder once more with a sigh.

He was right. Dancing is fun. Although probably only because he was the one you were dancing with.

Either way, you knew you were going to be leaving this reception party wondering exactly what you meant to Buck, and more importantly, what he meant to you.

But right now, all you needed to focus on was the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your sides and the gratified look in his eyes.

Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

[writingstoraes]

sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about:  The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched. 

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously. 

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet. 

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand. 

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off. 

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand. 

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you. 

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle.  He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves. 

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little. 

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles. 

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little. 

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied. 

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds. 

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.” 

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down. 

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug. 

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you. 

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show. 

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you;  as if you and his heart had a binding agreement. 

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane. 

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug. 

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

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

[satoruhour]

geto and reader sneaking out from jujutsu high school

have good day/night ! :)

a/n: apparently geto doesn’t have a least fav food bc he consumes curses so often that he’s content to eat anything. sigh. / 1.7k ☆ / @crysugu @lvlybee @na-t0

“nah, you’re lying.” it wasn’t peculiar for geto to hang out in your room after classes (if you could even call them that with gojo usually interrupting them or him getting called out of class to complete a mission). it’d be left with the two of you, and while shoko is not opposed to participating in the (vastly different) insanity you two would usually bring, she prefers to watch from the sidelines with a burning, shortening cigarette and an amused smile.

“like i— for one, love pineapples on pizza and, cherry tomatoes, but i just hate it when they don’t choose the right ones, you know?” geto leaves you to ramble until you realise your voice is simply countered by low hums and nods, “you don’t have any food you hate, do you?” you sit up on your bed after a long time of quelling the loud beats of your heart, looking incredulously at him still lying down, long legs going past the footboard, long hair and all. it grows faster in the summer, you realise — jet black hair that flows like a blackened river right down to his nape — and you find you’ve noted it down in your head a bit too often.

the repetitive memory is paired with reminders to give him the silly star clip you found at a corner side store and plain black hair ties (you steal them sometimes, he doesn’t ask for you to return it). it all but muddles your focus, these thoughts, all because you find it terribly difficult to look away from geto suguru’s unprecedented beauty. the graceful slant of his eyebrows to his hair, right down to the stubborn strands of feelers on the left side of his face that won’t stay in his bun—

“i’m not lying; i really don’t,” the dark-haired sorcerer laughs breathlessly, and he doesn’t notice your daze or the way you jerk at his chortle. his eyes come to rest on you, looking soft and gentle, a gaze even he doesn’t give gojo, and you think he looks the prettiest when his spread out locks converge as he sits up to rest on his elbows.

but besides the warmth of these domestic scenes through rose-coloured glasses, you can make out the underlying sorrow that pools beneath the light-hearted laugh. sometimes you can feel its heaviness, weighing suguru down more than it could ever do to you, and though he’s never lets you in, you had an inkling on what exactly tears at his mind.

it’s how every curse geto exorcises ends up in him, tainting his system with the harrowing taste similar to a rag that’s used to wipe up vomit and feces. it’s how he stifles gags each time a mission is completed, swallowing the curse with scrunched up eyes and a permanent frown. it’s how he’s ingested curses so much that he would be content with any type of food.

“then… let’s go out and find what food you hate then. process of elimination,” you offer softly with a giggle, pushing his legs off your bed before getting up yourself and stretching your limbs. it was late afternoon after all, causing the room to bathe in a general laziness and orange hues to prepare for sunset. you pull on his pants, leaning over him that teases the line between love and friendship.

geto mumbles, “like… right now? don’t we have a meeting with yaga-sensei soon?” and you’re prepared to get rejected with that reason (“oh shit, i forgot—”) until he takes your hand in his and surprising you with the idea that he’d disobey authority for a stupid idea of yours. he thumbs the back of your palm like he’s done it a million times before — c’mon, he says, and then the walk out is silent, hand loosely clasped in his as he skillfully manoeuvres through the traditional architecture of jujutsu high so well you’re convinced he skips classes.

it’s like you undo the tiring climb up the foothills of mount mushiro when you’ve finished an early morning mission, feeling the tug of geto’s hand on yours. it feels like it goes on forever too, but you bask in his occasional turns to look at you to check if you were still there: as if your hand in his isn’t enough, as if you were a reverie in his eyes, as if he didn’t have the sun in palm of his hand, in all her glory in this late, blinding glow. there’s a familiar manifestation of a stingray about three quarters through, the little creature floating beneath suguru’s hand.

“won’t you get caught by the school?” you laugh, but you climb onto it anyway — there’s a small humming sound that emerges from the curse and your stroking, ghosting hand only draws more pleased exclamations from the stingray.

it’s here where he sees how his akaei reacts to your touch and voice that geto thinks maybe collecting curses isn’t so bad. it’s on days like this where he think it might be worth it if little moments like this could clear the tainted, blurry cataract that mixes up who he should be protecting in this fucked up world.

the akaei jerks you forward and you let out a little yelp, face resting just inches from suguru as you clutch onto a fin of the creature — geto swears he hears a cackle from the curse and simply clears his throat, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the way he could smell cherry lip gloss on you. he wouldn’t put it past you to get cherry tomato flavoured lip gloss, but he imagines no matter how much you liked the vegetable (fruit?), you probably wouldn’t be putting that on your lips.

“shall we go?” 

beyond the school, he realises he’s not sure where you want to take him and he dispels the curse, already thinking of the lecture he’d get but instead he’s allowing you to drag him out of the heavy foliage and into the humble shops lining the bustling town. with this, geto is able to see your person without feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, pushing down words that he wasn’t sure you’d reciprocate whenever you turned around to point out the stores you would frequent.

and geto certainly is able to get that little piece of heaven and normalcy that he craves, letting someone he cherishes pull him through throngs of people to find his least favourite item, just because. he lets you sift through convenience stores and family businesses, eating with the unforgivable rays of the setting sun dancing through your features and his bowl of wanton noodles at the chinese shophouse that it convinces him any type of food could be his favourite as long as you’re stuffing your face with waffles or initiating a brain freeze with a 7-eleven slurpee.

and years later, geto somehow still has a bit of trouble categorising foods into ‘favourites’ and ‘non-favourites’, a sorting system that’s black and white, years later. he much rather place (almost) all of them in the grey simply because experiencing dessert and starters and main courses now with your mere presence was enough to make everything delicious against his repulsive palate.

“still thinking?” geto’s thoughts are interrupted by you as you call from across the table, a hand reaching out to hold his. 

he only nods with a languid smile, reminiscent of the mornings when that’s all he has energy for — and except maybe your teasing and lovesick voice. he’d have all the energy for that. “i’ll have what you’re having.”

you giggle, “again? okay… don’t blame me if you spit out the escargots like you did on our last date.”

geto stifles a laugh and only sends the confused waiter off with both of your menus and soon he’s pulling lightly on your hand and he makes you burst out laughing like he usually does, “what did you order again?”

the food turned out… mediocre to say the least. for such a renowned restaurant, you’d expect phenomenal tastes and combinations, except they were overrated too much by critics with only the plating to praise — but still, the night doesn’t end when the bill is hastily paid and geto buries you in his embrace.

“coat’s warm,” you smile. it’s the winter, he’s got you engulfed in his large coat as your nose crinkles at the snow brushing upon your cheek — unbeknownst to you, you wouldn’t have this reality in another universe where christmas was so near — but you would die before you let geto slip from your grasp again. you hoped it would be like this for every other time someone such a yourself crosses path with a certain dark-haired, lovely and kind person like geto suguru: in love, holding his heart in your hands, like sending out a message (“i’ve got him — have you?”) to all the you’s in every other realm.

“what do you say we finish the leftover pizza in the fridge?” his grin is blinding, something you never thought you’d see past high-school, but slowly, you’ve picked up the pieces and cleaned off its rough edges. you’ve polished them and melded them back together bit by bit. in the 55 by 63 refrigerator at your small shared dorm in your alma mater, all of geto’s pineapples were littered messily over your side of the dough, ingraining that dramaticized display of how, to geto, pineapple on pizza tasted worse than swallowing curses.

though, it was one of the favourite foods he’s developed a taste for after eating it with you a few times. sure, he at first hated the sweetness that contrasted with the saltiness of the dough, although seeing the fullness of your cheeks and how well you ate; it was simply that, that made him love it — but he’d never tell you that, not while you also loved it, because if anything meant more than his rediscovered love for food, it was your love for the same exact things that would make him order all the hawaiians in the world.

as geto’s lips meet with yours (smelling like cherry tomato lip gloss, he stands corrected!), he thinks that lecture and temporary suspension from his old teacher was worth all the days spent with you — pineapples and (right) cherry tomatoes and all.

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

There’s only one bed

Summary: you and Nat go in a mission and there’s only one bed

Word Count: 1.7k

fluff

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Natasha's POV:

Fury Just called me into his office to have a mission debriefing. Normally we'd have the brief with all the Avengers but, this is an undercover mission and let's just say majority of the team aren't very good at that. They blow their cover all the time and can't persuade people to save their lives. Ironic because that's exactly what it does on missions, save their life.

I've been told I'm going with someone but a name hasn't been given yet. I hope it's not an Agent from the academy. They're all newbies so I'll have to hold their hand the whole mission because they're clueless. As I'm walking I bump into Wanda.

"Oh hey, good luck on your mission!" she cheerfully said.

"Thanks also, do you know who I'm going with? I mean like any details about them?"

"All I know is apparently she's very popular among her fellow students, and by that I mean, she's hot."

"Students?! Great, so she's from the academy?"

"Yeah but, Fury wouldn't send her with you if she couldn't handle it."

"I guess your right but they can be really annoying needing to be walked through every single step of the mission."

"I guess you're right but, rumour has it, she's the best of the best. Your level even."

"Ha, I've heard that one a hundred times before, no one's better than me c'mon Wands you know that."

"Haha, yeaah I know Nat but just give her a chance?"

"Fine, I will but, I got to get to Fury now, I'll see you around."

"Bye, good luck!"

We parted ways and I gave her a smile. I walked into Fury's office and was welcomed by the sight of a beautiful woman with wavy y/h/c and shining y/e/c eyes. I going to be honest Wanda wasn't lying, she's perfect. Oh my god, I can't be thinking about these things she's my mission partner! She was already sat down in a chair opposite Fury when I came in so I took the chair beside her.

Fury started talking first, "Thank you for both making the time to be here, as you know this is an undercover mission so, pack a bag that'll last at least 2 day and 2 nights. We can never predict what'll happen at these kind of events."

"Speaking of, what event is it and why exactly are we going?" I questioned

"Well I'm glad you asked. It's part organised by Darren McHugh, not a big name in any industry but filthy rich. Attending the party is Lauren Emerson, your target. All you need is information from her about a weapon Hydra is developing. Her father has every Hydra scientist and engineer in his pocket so, she'll know a lot. Now, she's interested in women which is why there is no men on this case with you. I need you y/n to seduce her and get intel while Natasha watches your 6 and looks for another possible target who, isn't confirmed to be there, but there's a good chance he will be.” Fury explained.

"What's the other guys name?" the other girl asked Fury responded, "James Scott."

"Is that all?" I ask

"Yes that's all. Here's your personal copies of the file and be ready at the quinjet in 30 minutes."

With that we both left but I couldn't help feel a pang of disappointment shoot through me at the thought of her flirting with other people. Damn I really need to snap out of this.

I got up to my room and pack my things. I also put in my red dress and black heels for the party and go to the quinjet. As I'm walking I see her already standing there. She catches me staring as I walk towards her and she extends her hand.

Reader POV:

I look over and see Agent Romanoff coming towards me, eyes trained directly at me. I offer my hand for her to shake and she does. "Agent y/l/n, y/n y/l/n."

“Natasha Romanoff.” She responds

With that we both boarded the ship, settled down and engaged in conversation. It was a long flight and we were going to have to spend the next 24-48 hours together so, may as well get to know each other. This conversation however turned into shamelessly flirting with each other constantly.

Time skip to when the ship lands and they get to the hotel (still reader pov):

We get the the hotel and Natasha asks for our reservation at the front desk. While she's doing that I take a minute to really take in this place because it's massive. There's a chandelier on the ceiling and art all over the walls. The architecture is beautiful and it has gold accents along every wall. It also smelt like vanilla, don't know why that's relevant but it smells nice.

I hear a 'thank you' and 'enjoy your stay' so I assume that Nat has got the key so I begin walking to the lift (elevator). I step in and so does Natasha just a bit behind me. She presses the button to the 5th floor and we stand in a comfortable silence for the short 10 second ride. The doors open with a ding and we step out and go look for our room. Natasha takes the lead and goes straight to our door and opens it with the key card.

"Wow Shield really outdid themselves with this one ay?" I think aloud

"Yeah, they really did." She agreed

As we were walking around the both of us were quick to realise something.

"There's only one bed." Natasha pointed out

"I was just thinking the same thing. I'll take the sofa I don't mind at all." I say trying to come up with a solution.

"No, it's okay I can." Natasha instantly tries to shut me down

"Honestly I'll sleep there it's fine." I repeat

"Look uhm, you don't have to but to save ourselves a very polite argument do you wanna just share it. I mean it's a double so..?" She nervously asked

"Yeah sure I mean, if your up for it?" I half mumble

"I'm the one who suggested it dummy of course i'm up for it."

I chuckle at her response and put down my bags by the bed. If I was being honest with myself I couldn't help the butterflies that formed when thinking about sharing a bed with her. Goddamnit, she's my superior I can't be thinking like this.

Natasha POV:

I brush my teeth and get changed in the bathroom whilst y/n orders room service. When I walk out she was getting changed so she only had a bra and pyjama trousers on.

"Oh.., oh! I'm so sorry!"

No sorry it's my fault I should've told you I was changing."

"It's fine, I mean we're both girls right? Nothing we haven't seen before."

"Yeah, yeah you're right, both girls."

"Never seen a girl with abs like that though."

The blush spread on her face faster than a forrest fire. She was flustered and I took great pride in knowing I did that. I made my way to the kitchen so I'd be ready for room service when it came.

Three knocks at the door alerted me that the food was here. I thanked the staff and put the food on the counter.

"Hey y/n tea's here!" I yelled to her. (It depends where your from but tea is just how we say evening meal, like dinner)

"Thank god, i'm starving." She gave me bright smile before plating everything up.

We sit on the sofa with our food and watch whatever trashy TV shows are on. We laugh at parts of it and it gives me butterflies, her laugh has quickly become my favourite sound. It's just so beautiful and care free, it also means she's happy which makes me happy. I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear her softly say.

"Hey you okay? Lost you for a second there."

“Yeah, oh um, yeah I'm fine just thinking."

“About what? You were very focused."

"Nothing don't worry about it. Anyway, it's late we should go to bed."

"Your right I'll take the plates into the kitchen."

While she was doing that I went to the bedroom and set up the bed. I was laying down when she came in, she tentatively lowered herself o to the bed and layer down facing me.

"You sure it was nothing?"

"It wasn't really nothing and I'm about to talk a lot and I don't want you to talk till I'm done okay?" I respond with a hesitancy in my tone.

"Go for it." she says.

"I like you, like really like you. I know it's wrong because I'm your superior and your not even out the academy yet but I'm 25 and your what like, 20, 21 give or take so it's not like it's weird. Also can you blame me? You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Even though we only just met I can't help falling for you y/n. I'm sorry if I've just ruined the friendship we built today but I really needed to get that off my chest."

I look her deep in the eyes for any kind of reaction to what I just said. After a couple seconds of processing she smiled at me. Probably the biggest smile i've ever seen her have. She still hasn't said anything so I speak up. "Well?"

She doesn't answer me, instead she gently grabs my face and kisses me softly. Our lips dance against one another as second nature. Once air becomes a problem we release from each other's grasp.

"I like you too, if that wasn't already clear."

She giggled like a school girl when I grabbed her waist and started peppering kisses all over her face. She stopped and snuggled closer to me and buried her head in my chest.

"This woman is the one for me" I thought to myself as I held her safe in my arms. Although I really wasn't looking forward to this mission now.

[shadowsndaisies]

hangman meets 'thena

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: word is, there's a new pilot on board carrier air wing nine, and she flies for the VFA-14, the Tophatters.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the highly requested hangman and athena meet blurb, let me know what else you'd like to see from this universe, especially things that exist outside the storyline. or even if you just want more of certain characters. This serves as a precursory understanding to Jake and Athena, it probably doesn't answer every question about them, but it might help you see their foundation a bit better. but special shoutout to @djs8891 @tgmreader @rory-cakes and @fanreader75 for asking specifically about hangman and athenas dynamic (mentions at the end as well)

You’d heard of him, everyone active had. The only active aviator with a confirmed kill, never mind that your dad had two.

Hangman was exactly what you expected if you were honest.

Phoenix, who had taken an instant liking to you as soon as you’d been reassigned to the Tophatters, had filled you in on all the Lemoore gossip. Phoenix flew with the VFA-41, the Black Aces, also based out of Lemoore, and in fact, on the same carrier as you, Commander, Carrier Air Wing Nine. Her first order of business was getting you caught up on the carrier, that included learning the players, and while she was happy to introduce you to different Naval officers, the only one she warned against was Hangman.

Someone really should have told her that at your core, you were your father’s daughter.

Let it be known, you did not go looking for him. He appeared in all his Ken Doll Aviator glory as you were doing a morning check on your F/A 18E. Apparently he also flew an F/A 18E, ‘Nix on the other hand had an F/A 18F, as she normally flew with a WSO.

He approached, full of cocky attitude, and maybe it was all the years being raised by both Ice and Mav, but when he spoke it was like you could understand him just as fluently as you did with them. You could see where Nat was coming from with “honestly, Athena, Hangman in two words? Texan Douchewad.”

“Well, Howdy, darlin’, scuttlebutt was that there was a new girl on board, glad to meet you, name’s Hangman,” was his introduction.

You couldn’t help the smirk when he said girl, “Isn’t the hallmark of a proper southern boy, that he’s, well, proper?” you shoot back, eye brow quirked. “I’m a woman, not a girl.”

It was fun, watching the way his smirk melted, how his brow furrowed, as he tried to catch up.

“You-”

“Phoenix gave me a run down, but to be honest, I’ve always preferred forming my own perceptions,” you shrug, as you continue your check.

As you brush past him, you aren’t surprised to hear him following after you. “Ah, so my reputation precedes me then?” he muses, and you can see the way he uses his charm and humor to cover, a shield of bravado, too bad he didn’t realize you were raised by bravado.

“Not exactly, though I did see your plaque at Top Gun, to be fair, I saw Phoenix’s too,” you shrug again.

“So you’re the fresh blood, huh?” he prompts, and finally you turn and smile at him.

“I guess fresh blood is better than being called new girl. Name’s Athena, you’d do well to use it,” you tell him, smile in place.

“Athena? As in th4e Greek goddess of war and wisdom?” he asks, brows furrowed down.

“That’s the one,” you nod, moving to check the landing gear.

“Athena as in, the Naval Aviator who climbed through the ranks and had two separate stations before she went to Top Gun?” he follows up and you turn.

You turn to face Hangman, and now your brows are pulled, “How’d you know that?”

“I keep tabs on things that pique my interest,” he shrugs, and your lip curls on the end. “Rumor was you had Admirals arguing over who got you under their command…”

“Nice to meet you Hangman,” you decide finally, climbing back from under the plane, and offering him your hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Miss Athena,” he smirks back. “It true your old man flew too?” he tacks the question on as he shakes your hand.

You can see it in his eyes, nepotism, you know it’s where is brain’s gone. It’s like you couldn’t escape it, everyone assumed that’s how you got as far as you have, as quick as you have. They were wrong.

“Yeah, mostly f-14s though, nothing with the juice of my baby,” you straight up lie, so what if your dad was still flying? So what if he was probably flying f/a-18s or something experimental? No one but you needed the specifics, and you’re pretty sure it wouldn’t help you fight against the nepo-baby claims. Too bad no one realized how much of a detriment being attached to Maverick actually was. It made most of the higher ups uneasy about taking you on, unsure if you’d inherited your father’s need for speed and reckless streak, you had, but you were just better than him at keeping it in check, if Ice taught you anything, it was that — “ice cold, kiddo, no mistakes.”

“Must’ve been nice, having a leg up like that,” he’s still smiling as he talks down at you.

You match his smile and catch the flicker of confusion in his eyes as you walk up closer to him. “It was, see, it prepared me for a lifetime of dealing with cocky naval aviators and their inflated sense of bubble wrap bravado.”

“That all?” he presses, staring down at you, the two of you now face to face, staring hard at each other, but you caught the little twitch of his eye at your term.

“No,” you smirk before turning and walking away, “but I’ve got a hop to prep for, see you around Hangman.”

…

He finds you in the Mess later that day. You’d just returned from morning drills with your squad, and was eating with Phoenix.

“Ladies,” he greets, setting his own tray down in the seat opposite you.

“And I’ve officially lost my appetite,” Phoenix decided, standing up. “Athena, I’ll catch you later, I’d say it’s nice to see you, Bagman, but we know better,” she states, grabbing her tray, patting your shoulder and walking away.

“You sure know how to clear a room, Hangman,” you note, eyes flicking to Phoenix over Hangman’s shoulder, Nat was clearing her tray and pauses to look back and roll her eyes dramatically as she looks at Hangman’s back.

Your lip twitches and you lift your glass of water to cover up the smile threatening to split your lips.

“Bubble wrap bravado,” Hangman repeats back to you, echoing your statement from yesterday.

“What about it?” you challenge.

“Explain it to me,” it’s not a question, not in how it’s phrased, but you understand that he is asking.

“Protective to an extent, easier to pop than you think, so long as you apply the pressure properly. Problem is, everyone knows when it does, it’s usually a bit loud,” you explain, and he seems so incredibly focused on you.

You didn’t mind the hyper-focus though, you’d coined the term a long time ago. It had originally been for a different boy, one with a temper, but who you’d watched grow up. Ice had thought it an apt descriptor, he’d even taken it to describe a few officer’s he’d interacted with over the years.

“Hmm,” he hums, eyes glued to yours.

“You disagree?” you ask.

“No. I think you hit it on the head,” he admits and your lips curl up just the slightest bit, at least he seemed honest… cock sure and stubborn too, but honest.

“A naval aviator for a father was a lot of things, Hangman,” you admit, hesitating for a moment, deciding how much you wanted to say. “It was limited time, and firm goodbyes. It was getting behind a yoke for the first time when I was 12. It was learning ranks at the same time I was learning how to do multiplication,” you say, and you study how his expression changed which each revelation. “Having a Naval Aviator for a father might have given me a home field advantage, but that’s all it did. The rest, the wings, the assignments, I earned those,” you tell him seriously.

“Sure you did,” he nods along condescendingly, but his eyes betray his curiosity, and for now, that was enough for you.

You smile again at him, though this time it is a bit sour. “You don’t believe me, that’s fine, fair even, to be skeptical. But you should know, you’re gonna eat crow when you realize how wrong you were,” you tell him seriously, before standing up with your plate and glass, and walking away.

…

You get your chance to prove him wrong just a few days later when the Tophatters get assigned to a drill with both of the other squadrons on board the carrier, the Black Aces, and the Vigilantes. Meaning both Nat and Jake are in the air with you.

After is the first time Jake looks at you with something other than cocky contempt. As if seeing you fly up close resolved some of his concerns, but there’s still something there. He was waiting for the other shoe, too bad no one told him that you’d had both feet firmly on the ground since you signed your life to the Unites States Naval Services.

You get paired with him about a month and a half later for a cover assignment for an emergency evac of a SEAL team.

Normally assignments were set within squads, but it was an emergency evac and the carrier was docked. You and Jake had been the closest to the carrier at the time who were qualified, and so you were the two who were sent off. You flew south into South America, and while a lot of the details were later labeled as redacted, Jake never questioned your ability after. Nor should he. You saved his life.

He did however decide that meant you were friends, much to the immense annoyance of one Natasha Trace.

Considering the entire mission had been classified and redacted, you weren’t able to explain a lot of it to her, but when Jake started choosing his words a little more carefully she did her best not to start anything either. When he started sitting with you in the mess, she eyed him carefully. And when he started following you around in any downtime that lined up, she kept her mouth shut.

She found a new case study in the two of you, the outward and obvious differences between Hangman with Athena, and Hangman without. Her eyes jumping from how easily you let your guard down with him, and how utterly soft Hangman could be when he thought no one was paying attention.

Natasha, to her credit, had tried, desperately tried, to get more information out of you regarding your budding friendship, but all you would ever offer was a simple, “people tend to be more complex than what meets the eye, ‘Nix, I’m proof of that. So is he, and so are you.”

She decided then and there, you had way too much tact and patience, and maybe, just maybe, that was what Hangman needed.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @whoismurphyslaw @kee-0-kee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid @youdontknowe @burningcoffeecupp @mrsevans90

...

[luvkyu]

hii can you please make a enemies to lovers jaemin fluff?i would really appreciate it 😔

ego ( na jaemin )

jaemin x male!reader

after jaemin gets hurt in a fight, someone unexpected takes care of him

content : 1.7k words, angstish to fluff, university!au, mentions of fighting and blood, egotistical jaem

( a/n ) just finished this so sorry if it's rough !!

y/n sighed. he looked around impatiently after knocking on the door of his friend's dorm room. donghyuck had called him earlier in a panic, concerned about his roommate who came home after apparently getting into a fight off campus. y/n wasn't surprised when he first heard this. donghyuck's roommate, jaemin, was not exactly a nice person. at least not in y/n's opinion.

donghyuck opened the door in a hurry before pulling his friend inside.

"oh my god, thank you for coming so late at night."

"i still don't see why you can't just take care of him," y/n complained.

"i don't like blood. or violence." donghyuck handed him a first aid kit and pushed him toward jaemin's room.

"i better be getting paid for this," y/n muttered. he carefully made his way into the bedroom to see jaemin holding an ice pack against his head. y/n sighed again. jaemin didn't look nearly as bad as donghyuck described on the phone. just some bruises and a couple cuts on his face.

"what are you doing here?" jaemin questioned as he lowered the ice pack. he sounded more rude than he intended, which made some guilt flood his chest, especially when y/n didn't answer. but, of course, he definitely wouldn't let y/n know that.

jaemin watched y/n sit down on his bed and open the first aid kit, setting out some of the supplies before looking up at him. jaemin felt himself instantly tense up when y/n examined his face. his injuries were nowhere near serious, but it'd be safest to go ahead and clean him up so he could heal well.

"you didn't have to come," jaemin said. he tried to sit up a bit, but ended up sinking back into his pillows because of the bruises he'd earned.

"well i did." y/n's voice was sharp, short from irritation.

"but you hate me."

"correct."

"but you're helping me anyway?"

"correct again. good to know you haven't lost any braincells up there."

jaemin rolled his eyes and turned his head to look out of the window, annoyed. he winced after trying to take a large inhale.

"where does it hurt?" y/n asked.

"i'll be fine, you can go."

"jaemin."

jaemin's eyes flickered over to y/n, whose face was blank as he waited for jaemin's answer. he didn't know how y/n managed to scare him, but he did nonetheless.

"..my side," he finally responded. y/n watched as the male's hand went to clutch around his ribs.

"i'm gonna lift your shirt a little, okay?"

jaemin nodded. "i knew you always wanted to see me shirtless."

y/n stopped, giving him another blank stare in disapproval. jaemin gulped.

y/n resumed lifting his shirt to begin inspecting around his torso. he could see a large bruise purpling around the bottom of his ribcage. other than this, his skin was flawless. soft and tanned beautifully. y/n quickly avoided staring any further at his skin and abs.

"how'd you even do this?" y/n's fingers drifted cautiously over the growing bruise. jaemin shivered at the chill from his touch, although he almost thought he might've liked it.

"fighting."

"like, fist fighting? ..why?"

"hyuck's ex has been bothering him."

y/n looked up to meet jaemin's eyes. "so you fought him?"

"fucker was coming around here too much. it was annoying for both me and hyuck. i didn't plan on fighting him, i just wanted to tell him to stop. the fight just happened."

y/n stayed quiet. that was somewhat acceptable, he supposed.

"i still won though," jaemin added quickly as if anyone was keeping score.

"well, he also landed some points on you didn't he?" y/n countered, gesturing to the cut on his eyebrow and his slightly busted lip. jaemin didn't reply this time. y/n smiled to himself. he liked when jaemin's ego took a hit.

y/n lowered his shirt back down gently. "your side should be fine. it'll probably keep bruising a little and the color might change. just don't do anything too strenuous and it'll heal."

"what about working out??"

y/n returned his attention back to the first aid kit, preparing to clean up the cuts on jaemin's face. "your call, i guess," he answered.

jaemin groaned. he hoped his trips to the gym could continue as usual, but he wasn't so sure with how little he could move.

"now let me look at these," y/n's voice sounded through jaemin's thoughts. he leaned closer to the male's face and took his chin gently. tilting his head to see better in the light, y/n looked over the slit in his eyebrow.

jaemin swallowed hard. his eyes skimmed over y/n's face. they'd never been this close before. his heart was racing and he couldn't seem to look anywhere else. he was beginning to realize just how attracted to y/n he was. y/n, who had always just been donghyuck's quiet and slightly rude best friend, but now all jaemin really wanted to do was kiss him.

"don't get in another fight. i don't wanna have to patch you up again," y/n said suddenly. jaemin hadn't even noticed that he was already cleaning the small wound on his eyebrow.

"maybe i should get in a fight every week just to see you."

y/n froze. he couldn't have heard that correctly.

"are you flirting with me?"

"maybe," jaemin replied quickly. y/n scowled at his confidence.

"well you can forget it. i'm not flirting back."

"why?"

"cause you're-.." y/n froze again for a moment, resulting in jaemin's unscathed eyebrow twitching upwards in intrigue.

"i'm..?" he urged.

y/n found himself looking directly at jaemin now. his view drifted over the male's lips for just a second before shaking his head and returning to his cut brow.

"a jerk," y/n finally finished.

it was quiet after this. y/n continued cleaning jaemin up. he was slow and careful, insistent on making sure nothing would get infected. he secured a tiny strip bandage over the first cut before pulling away. jaemin's lip still needed seeing to, though.

"so you're telling me you're not even a little attracted to me?" jaemin broke the silence between them.

y/n stifled a chuckle, "why would i be?"

"cause i'm hot. obviously."

y/n couldn't seem to think of a good response to this. he just kept to himself and began wiping some of the blood from jaemin's lip.

"you aren't denying it," jaemin persisted. y/n sighed for the nth time. his grip on jaemin's chin tightened.

"stop talking. i can't take care of your lips when you're moving this much."

"i can move my lips somewhere else if you want."

y/n instantly stood up to leave at this response. a large huff of air left his chest before jaemin rushed to grab his hand.

"no! i'm sorry, please stay. i'm sorry," jaemin pleaded.

y/n turned to look at him. he felt pretty unconvinced, but the sudden seriousness written on jaemin's face made him sit back down. he picked up where he left off, cleaning the other's bloody lip. jaemin's hand hadn't left y/n's, which the latter only noticed after a minute or so. but he decided not to say anything about it.

time felt slow now. y/n finished with the second cut and set everything back into the first aid kit. jaemin hadn't said another word. his demeanor was almost completely different. y/n was surprised and even a little worried.

he finally sat back with a fulfilled exhale. jaemin looked at him, eyes wide with admiration. with thanks, even. y/n wondered where this jaemin came from. his line of sight drifted over to see jaemin's hand that was still clutching his bruised torso, making his brows furrow from worry.

"you can move right?" he asked.

"huh?"

"your side. you can still move right?"

"oh! yes, don't worry. it hurts but i can move," jaemin answered happily.

"hm, okay.." y/n still felt unconvinced. more so because of his sudden change in attitude rather than his injuries. "i can come back tomorrow to check on you again if you want."

jaemin quickly nodded at the idea, smiling largely. the stretch of his mouth made a little more blood seep from his bottom lip, resulting in y/n quickly grabbing a rag to stop the bleeding again.

"thank you," jaemin said softly.

y/n's heart skipped. he wasn't sure why. out of all his time knowing na jaemin, he'd never gotten a sincere word from him.

"you're welcome. don't be so stupid from now on."

jaemin nodded. "i promise."

as the silence fell on them again, their eyes locked before eventually moving to each other's lips. it was clear to both of them where this was going, and y/n was in disbelief at himself. was he really leaning in to kiss someone he'd always hated?

jaemin's hand left it's clutch on his side to instead cup y/n's face, their lips finally meeting.

after pulling away, jaemin squeezed the other's hand as if reassuring himself that everything was real. he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him and hold him for the rest of the night, but he knew that'd be a little too hard on his injuries at the moment.

"is there a chance we could do this again tomorrow?" jaemin asked. the tone of his voice had changed to a cute, happy one.

y/n rolled his eyes, but jaemin could see the smile he was harboring before he got up from the bed again.

"you should get some sleep. i'll, um.. i'll call you in the morning and i'll try to come over after classes."

jaemin's face brightened at those words. "really??"

y/n nodded, still trying to hide his own happiness. "sleep well, jaemin."

"goodnight, y/n!"

jaemin watched him slip out and close the door gently, already missing him.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

what a woman enjoys

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Naoya Zen'in x Fem Reader ɞ

───────────────

❥Summary: You are in an arranged marriage with Naoya Zen'in. He's never cared about your pleasure before, but one argument leaves him wondering what you enjoy in bed. He decides to find out what the answer is.

❥Word Count: 1.7k

❥CW: fem reader (reader has a vagina, referred to as "wife" and "girl"), smut, fem masturbation, penetration, creampie, voyeurism, possible dubcon since reader doesn't choose to be married to Naoya

────── ♡ ──────

"So this is what my little wife enjoys, huh?"

You swallowed thickly, fingers still rubbing incessantly on your clit. You were too nervous to look at him, choosing instead to keep your eyes squeezed shut.

"I asked you a question, and I expect an answer."

"Y-Yes! I… I like this…" you replied hesitantly, beyond embarrassed by your current predicament. You were bare naked on your shared bed, Naoya sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed while you sat in the center. You were spread eagle, allowing Naoya to watch you play with yourself, doing just what he demanded.

You wish you knew exactly what had caused this situation. You had heard some gossip from the maids about a conversation (or, rather, an argument) between Naoya and his cousin, Jinichi. Apparently, Jinichi had taken a woman to bed, and she was being so loud that Naoya had heard her when he got up in the middle of the night. Word has it that Naoya teased his cousin for "inviting a macaque" into his bed, and Jinichi replied by accusing Naoya of not recognizing a woman's screams of pleasure. This led to Jinichi accusing Naoya of not knowing how to please a woman at all, which of course led to a sparring match between the two that was less than lighthearted. The entire exchange was quite scandalous to the ladies who worked at the Zen'in estate, and they were chattering about it all afternoon.

You could only assume that your husband's pride had been severely wounded by the entire altercation. There was no other plausible explanation for why he would've stomped around the estate all evening up until you prepared for bed, no other reason for why he would've ordered you to strip naked and show him "what you enjoy in bed."

None of this was for you—you knew that—but you couldn't ignore the pleasure that was building in your core. You could feel your fingers begin to cramp up from how frantically they toyed with your clit. You were panting softly, trying not to make too much noise in your silent bedroom, fearing that your voice would travel through the thin fusuma. The last thing you needed was for someone to hear you in such a state.

Your fingers traveled lower, two digits pushing inside, searching for that gummy spot that made your toes curl.

Naoya had never bothered to please you in bed before. In his eyes, it was your job to please him, not the other way around. You were merely a warm hole for him to plant his seed; there was no purpose in bringing you pleasure (not that he could in the first place). It was safe to say that this situation was very random to you, completely out of nowhere (aside from his rumored conversation with his rugged cousin). If he had not acted like his usual stern self, you would've sworn he had gone mad.

You huffed in annoyance, unable to reach your g-spot with your own fingers. They just weren't long enough to reach that sweet spot inside you. You pulled your fingers out of your cunt with a sigh, moving them back to your clit instead. Your husband noticed your disappointment, resting his chin against his fist.

"What's the matter? Are your small, delicate fingers not enough?" Naoya teased, a smug grin spreading on his face.

"N-No… they're not…" you replied timidly. Naoya clicked his tongue in false sympathy.

"Poor little wife. Can't do anything without your husband, can you?" It took all your strength not to roll your eyes. He took your silence as an answer, chuckling quietly before leaning forward, patting the edge of the bed. "Come here."

You swallowed your pride and followed his command, scooting closer to the edge, your feet threatening to slip off the bed. Naoya hummed as you looked away in embarrassment, his hand trailing up your thigh as he examined you. He brought his hand to your cunt, his index finger pushing into you without warning, making you gasp.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you this wet before," he commented, pumping his finger in and out of your sopping cunt. "Is… is this normal for you… when you enjoy yourself?" he asked, the scarcest amount of insecurity in his tone. You sighed shakily when he added a second finger, nodding your head.

"Ye-Yes… yes, it is…" Naoya watched you closely before his eyes went back to your cunt.

"Hm. Strange." His fingers curled momentarily, making you gasp. Naoya took notice of your reaction, repeating the action, curling his fingers up into your g-spot again. You let out a moan this time, clenching around his fingers. Naoya's eyes widened, his gaze zeroing in on where his fingers disappeared inside you. He pushed them in and out of you for a few moments before adding a third finger, spreading you wide and making you keen. Your fingers kept working your clit all the while, moving faster, chasing your high.

"You're quite eager, aren't you?" He didn't wait for you to reply, pumping his fingers into you faster. "Sucking in my fingers like a cock-hungry slut. Who knew that my wife could be such a whore?"

"I-I'm sorry," you breathed, apologizing on instinct. Naoya chuckled, his free hand squeezing the underside of your thigh.

"It's alright, dear. You're only this way for your husband, right? You only get this needy for me, don't you?" You bit back an aggravated groan, nodding instead.

"Y-Yes… only you, Naoya."

"That's right," he breathed, pressing into your g-spot again. "You're only a slut for me, no one else."

"Naoya… p-please—"

"Don't whine. It's unbecoming." You shut your mouth, biting your lip when he removed his fingers. He stood up, peeling away at his clothes as he stared down at you. You kept still while he undressed, soon coming face to face with his erect cock. "Move back."

You followed his orders, scooting back to the center of the bed again. He followed you, crawling over your frame. He suddenly grabbed the backs of your knees, pushing your legs back, making you fall down to the bed.

"Hold your legs back," he demanded. You did as he said, holding onto the backs of your thighs. Naoya's eyes roamed over you, drinking you in as he breathed deeply. He sat up on his knees, stroking his cock languidly. He crawled closer a moment later, towering over you, his cock pressing at your entrance. He smirked to himself when he felt your entrance suck at the head of his cock, soon pushing into you with a sharp hiss.

"Shit—why are you so—fuck!" He continued to curse under his breath as he pushed into you, bottoming out soon enough. His cock felt a lot different when you were aroused, the fit snug instead of painful. This was probably the first time you could actually enjoy having his cock inside you.

"Naoya—"

"Shut up," he groaned, pulling out and thrusting back in, starting a reasonable pace. "I don't want to hear you complaining. You're going to take what I give you."

"O-Okay," you mumbled, already panting. His thrusts weren't too fast, but they were hard, his hips slapping loudly against yours.

"Fuck, yeah, fucking take it. You greedy slut, sucking me in—fuck!" he snarled above you, eyes squeezed shut as he thrust into you. Maybe he was trying to imagine you were someone else. You couldn't say that you cared; you had often done the same.

Your pussy squelched loudly, squishing and slurping with each roll of his hips. The added lubrication made his cock feel so much better than it did in the past. His dick filled you so well, your slick allowing him to thrust without difficulty, causing pleasure instead of the usual pain. You could feel pressure building deep inside you, growing with each smack of his hips against yours. You bit your lip, releasing one of your legs and moving your hand to your cunt, rubbing your clit to speed up your orgasm.

"What do you think you're doing?" You froze, nervously looking up at Naoya who slowed his thrusts for a moment.

"I… I just—"

"You think you can do better than me?" he snarled, pushing your hand away and replacing it with his own. "As if you could please yourself better than your husband."

His thumb circled your clit as his hips picked up speed again. You mewled, hips curling to meet his, and he smiled at the action.

"Look at you, bucking your hips into me like a filthy whore. You like all this, don't you?" You hummed quietly, but Naoya seemed displeased with this response. He pulled his hand away to slap at your ass, making you yelp. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

"Yes! Yes, I-I like it, I like it—oh, Naoya, I'm gonna c-cum—"

Naoya laughed breathlessly above you, almost in disbelief. His hand returned to your cunt, moving in time with his thrusts. You hadn't cum in so long that this sudden onslaught of attention sent you hurtling over the edge. Your nails dug into your legs, cunt pulsating as you came.

"Shit—what is—oh fuck—"

Naoya braced himself above you so he wouldn't collapse. You felt warm liquid filling you up as you came down from your high, his hips jolting into yours, twitching as he emptied his balls inside you.

The two of you stayed still for a minute, panting, composing yourselves. Naoya moved first, holding your hips down as he pulled out of you. You moaned softly at the sensation, letting him hold your legs apart and watch your combined fluids leak out of you.

"Not bad," he muttered to himself, watching his cum slip down between your ass.

"I… I'll go c-clean up," you offered, but Naoya kept a hold on you when you tried to get up.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, looking up to see your reaction.

"Uh… yes. Yes, I enjoyed it very much." He hummed.

"I enjoyed it, too. I didn't know you were capable of getting so wet for me. In fact," he continued, returning his thumb to your clit, "I think I'll have you like this from now on."

"You… what—"

"From this day forward, you will return to the bedroom after dinner and touch yourself until I arrive. That way, you'll be nice and soaked for me. Do you understand?" You suddenly dreaded the next evening.

"Y-Yes, sir." He smiled, patting your thigh.

"Good girl. Now, get on your hands and knees. I'm not quite done with you yet."

───────────────

[anantaru]

𝐃𝐎𝐍‘𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋

after you were trying your hardest, over and over again, to make your relationship work yet still failing in the end, you ultimately decided it‘d be better to end it with scaramouche.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 1.7k

୨୧ WARNINGS: angst, gn! reader, mention of past intimacy between each other, break up, slight yan ?? a sprinkle, scara‘s overwhelmed and doesn‘t know how to be normal.

love.

love is kind, patient. As calm as a rural sea on a silent night.

love takes delight in the truth, in mutual understanding and trust. It never takes offense, it is not resentful.

additionally, love is able to forgive, to hope and to endure so why, why did your love fly away, with no strings and a pair of attached, imaginary wings on their back?

how often did you try to see the once shining radiant light in midst the insufferable darkness you called your relationship with scaramouche.

being guided by nothing but sorrow, you remembered that it wasn‘t always like that, was it?

as a strong believer in the saying of ”whatever you held onto about yourself will eventually come true“, you had manipulated yourself into thinking just that, which had later on caused a swell of deep hope to cover the majority of your burning heart.

you manifested for your relationship to take a sharp turn after barely overstepping each hard coming without escaping unscattered.

committing to a relationship was first and foremost, to accept each trait your significant other had, it truly didn't matter if it was good or bad as long as you were well equipped enough to be there for them.

but when does that not apply anymore?

exactly when it seemed as if you were forgetting about your own well being.

you see, you can twist and turn the narrative but in the end it was obvious that scaramouche had to work through more than 'just' a few hardships.

maybe it would be better for his own health to be alone for a while, to find his true nature and gather a newfound feeling of love towards himself before being able to hold love towards another person.

with an aching, deep throb in your heart, you opened the door to the bedroom you once shared as you spotted your boyfriend, well, soon to be ex boyfriend right away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his sight lowered towards the cold floor.

"you‘re here."

with the burn of pain those words caused alone, the idea of holding yourself back was in vein, scaramouche had you already figured out from the start so hiding the blatant truth would only feed into each negative aspect of the conversation that was developing right now.

"you told me to come, why shouldn't i be here?"

it was strange, truly, the immediate change in his usual tone was apparent, scaramouche sounded distant, as if he already knew what was coming next.

breaking away from your frozen stance, you proceeded to close the bedroom door, each small step well thought out until you were as close as necessary, proceeding.

"can you look at me?"

no matter how much you wanted to get this heartfelt decision over with, you still desired to end it properly, without leaving unanswered questions hidden which would sooner or later poke your mind, more so eat you from the inside out until nothing was left to be devoured.

for a short amount of time, he did not speak, his arms were resting on his thighs as he kept his eyes pierced towards the cold wooden floor, never daring to break away.

you gave him the time, as much as he sought after. At the back of your mind ominous darkened thoughts found refuge in, a cold spider like sensation was swarming up and down the entirety of your spine, deepening the restraint in your voice.

you watched in silence, thousands of questions prowling through your cloudy mind as he, in a trice, decided to speak up, "how ungraciously backward you can be, to force me through this."

the inner voice inside you churned through your body, desperately warning you, a dazed look of bewilderment crossing the irritated state your face was trapped in.

"what do you mean by that?"

with an attempt to keep your trembling lip under control, you gathered the soft flesh in between your teeth, only a tiny bit until the self restraint of your body returned to you.

"i mean it exactly how i said it." on a heavy sigh, he continued with a demeaning voice, the epitome of gradient turmoil blistering your heart, you absolutely despised it whenever he got to talk to you in that precise manner.

"you know my past and yet you still persist." at his final word, he at last, lifted his head to meet your glowing eyes, glowing for the wrong reasons that is as they were welling up with warm tears.

"what do you expect me to do kuni?"

scaramouche flinched at the name you decided to use, after all, it was long forgotten yet whenever you said it, whenever you referred to him with it, it sounded all the more familiar and intimate.

"nothing.. nothing."

swarmed with the view of him, your throat seized. Indigo eyes, crystallized mind, his attention on you was heavy as you decided to move forward, cautiously taking a seat next to him.

the mattress shifted of your added weight, there was no point in arguing but for some unexplained, fucked up reason, it always proceeded to end up like this.

"i never intended to hurt you, but i'm at my limit." the tears in you made your eyes glimmer, the previous confidence that was utterly dominant upon approaching the bedroom before, was long gone with your head hung low, but you still desired to finish what you had started.

"it's always the same, it will always end the same."

much to your surprise, scaramouche for once decided to listen to you. You were wary of the sudden change in mannerism but didn't complain, it gave off a pleasant way to articulate what you wanted to say to him.

"and we need to break up in order to get better."

another hesitation in your voice, he immediately noticed, his throat loosening with an approaching laugh, "oh, so that's how it is."

with a tumble forward, he got off the bed to stand tall, his shoulders tugged back in a confident stance, turning around yet again.

"you just want to cast me aside too, don't you?"

this wasn't fair, how could this possibly be fair in any other occasion?

all the preparation to this conversation, thrown aside, the burning, heartbreaking feeling was tearing you apart, as if trapped in a maze, one you couldn't escape, one that got smaller within each minute, one that would squeeze you to death by the very end.

"you don't see my point, can you at least try to understand?" the past was continuously invading the present, it was devastating.

"can i try, what?" he draws one touch on you, only one, forcefully grabbing your chin in between his fingers to make you look at him, but still keeping the contact with your skin light, as to not hurt you.

your throat grew tighter as a natural response to the once cold air becoming thicker as you spoke, each sentence alluring the feature.

silent anger, like true liquid fire but it didn't spill, he kept it to himself while only showing short nuances of the burning ache eating away his blazing core.

mindlessly sitting on the edge of terror, you bristled on the faint independence you had left in yourself.

"i will always love you, but don't you realize that right now, you're literally showing me why it won't work."

scaramouche could no longer see anything but the threat of losing you, he couldn't hear you, not anymore, his mind was at risk to collapse and break, the hand on your chin beginning to tremble.

is it possible to scream without screaming? to cry without crying or to die without dying? because to scaramouche it felt as if those things were happening to him, right this second in front of you.

"what about all those times we made love to each other, hm? does this mean nothing to you anymore?"

a tear, barely to be perceived, danced around the corner of his eye as it spilled, alone and lost, plastering the cold floor.

"or when you told me that you'll never leave like the rest of them?"

scaramouche remembered those distinct feelings within his chest now, how hysterical laughable, he thought he had long since disposed of them entirely.

yet the one you managed to awake in him was still there, like a micro organism feeding on its damaged host, eating away the spirit until death was inevitable.

the first time he had perceived those world-shattering emotions, he was cast aside by his creator, his mother.

the words you intended to say were murdered in your throat, rejected, "i don't know what to say."

each decision had a consequence laced around it, some more gruesome than the other.

"you don't have to say anything." his innermost self, his being, gathered the last courage to lock his eyes with yours before lastly letting go of your chin, straightening his posture.

you felt the chill in your blood, ice water in your veins, the silence in your ears, the death of your failing relationship. Part of the pain, you could endure.

but could he?

"i should go." with clear, pure agony in your soul, you ultimately rose up from your seat to pass him and reach the door to the exit.

he stood still, not moving an inch of his tensed muscles, letting his thoughts walk out around him, in search of something he knew he couldn't get, at least not now.

"if you think that's the end."

scaramouche didn't intend to finish his sentence to you, nor reveal it, more so did it involuntarily divulge out of him.

what he meant by that was unclear to the both of you, it lingered both unpredictability and uncertainty in the air.

something was not right but you could not decipher the darkened suspicion with your alarm bells pointing right towards them.

it was the end, like a book you closed after reading through it, even if you dared to pick it up again, nothing would change in it.

your relationship was nothing but a broken mirror within a casted ray of sunlight, damaged and split as you left at last, scrambling the final steps out of the apartment you once shared.

to turn around, to watch you go, with the world around him animating death.

passed by limitless silence, he closed his eyes, endlessly consuming the darkness that were his thoughts.

and so, it wasn‘t a tear that slowed out of him, but a hysterical laugh, side splitting and crazy, as he commented for the very last time.

"how foolish you can be, dear."

©2022 anantaru do not share, copy, translate

[kiwanopie]

pls pls pls brat tamer yuta

thought about brat tamer Yuuta and blacked out. this was in my docs for some reason when I came to again.

Don’t be so mean to Yuuta!

cw: brat tamer! yuuta x fem!reader. smut. pussy slapping. multiple creampies. praise. edging. overstimulation. mirror sex. man handling. floor fucking. minors do not interact.

wc: 1.7k

“Please, I’m-“

“Sorry?”

Yuuta’s voice sends shivers up your spine from where his lips are planted on the sensitive spots of your nape, making hot tracks as his tongue skims over a good spot.

“I bet you are, baby.” He hums. “My sweet girl…”

Doesn’t mean he’ll let up though. If the way his grip tightens over your torso should mean anything. Tucked underneath you on the corner edge of your bed with your back pressed against his chest and his hands touching everywhere.

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Actually, you know exactly what you did to deserve this, but you didn’t expect he’d be so harsh about it. Let him tell it and he’ll say his “Bratty baby decided to be mean for no reason.” Let you tell it and:

“Why’re you dodging my kisses?”

You roll your eyes from where he’s pouting over you, pointedly shrugging his hands off of your waist when he tries to pull you closer to him. “Why would I want your stupid kisses?”

Yuuta gapes a little at that, a little confused, a little wounded. “My kisses aren’t-? Where’s this attitude coming from?”

“I don’t have an attitude.” Which Yuuta finds hard to believe, with how your face gets all scrunched up in his attempts to crowd you in his space again. Cute little bottom lip jutting out under the shine of your flavored lip gloss and he can’t help but wanna coo at how squeezable you look when you’re throwing a fit.

Although, with the mood you’re in he fears he might come up short a hand if he actually tried to. The way you turn your shoulder at him has him following on your heels like a lost dog. “Not like you’re asking ‘cause you care.”

“Hello? Why wouldn’t I…?” Yuuta stumbles. “Baby, what? You were fine just earlier, did I do something wrong?”

Other than blow you off for like eighty percent of the day? Sure, he invited you to watch him train - bought you lunch when he realized he’d be at it longer than he anticipated, and gave you his phone to entertain yourself with when yours eventually died from being out so long. But he promised the two of you would actually get to hang out today! Not sit on those stupid stone bleachers till your bottom got all sore. Feeding him water in between breaks and pretending like this isn’t the unteenth time something like this has happened.

You’re fed up. He never wants to do what you want anymore. “No, no. Don’t even worry about it. You must be tired anyway. What with all the training you got in.”

Yuuta briefs a few long strides till he’s standing in the pathway to your bedroom door, walking back on his heels as you try to push past him. “I’m not? Is this about that? I didn’t mean to keep you out all day if that’s-“

“It’s whatever.”

“No. It’s not whatever. Clearly you’re upset.” His eyes follow you as he finally plops himself on top of your mattress. Yuuta’s long legs hang off the side so much his knees bend a little and he slumps when you opt to ignore him in favor of fishing your closet for something more comfortable.

“Baby- I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s going on. What’s got you all cranky?”

“Cranky.” You grumble under your breath. “Can't even be mad without you underplaying everything.”

You step out of your closet with a little dress on that makes his face hot. Pretty mint thing that makes you look softer than you already are, even as you throw him a mean glare on your way to your hamper.

“So, you are mad?”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“I’m not.” You hiss this time. “Maybe you’re just an asshole!”

Whoops.

Which, come to think of it, maybe blowing up at him for no apparent reason was a little much - but it can’t be helped. Especially when you immediately freeze in place over the tension that overcomes the room at your sudden outburst. Yuuta’s brows furrow as his jaw clenches and he stares at you with the kind of blank look that usually comes about when he’s mulling over something.

You expect him to get up and leave the room. Let your respective parties cool off after you’ve just crossed the line by cursing at him so harshly. You expect a kinder punishment than the one he actually has in store.

But instead Yuuta sighs and straightens his back, spreads his legs a little to make room for you. “Come here.”

“Yuu-“

“Mh. Sit down.”

This is just cruelty.

You whimper at the way his fingers skirt over your aching clit, wet sloppy sounds of your lips parting over his glossy digits as he feels around your gooey center. You’re dripping. Soaking the little sliver of mattress you’re hovering over but the meanest part is that it isn’t just your slick that’s making such a mess.

Through misty eyes do you still see the reflection of his throbbing cock splitting you open in the vanity mirror across the room. Slow rhythmless grinding that could just barely push you over the edge if it weren’t for all the-

Smack!

You must’ve been squirming again.

Your broken voice clips in tandem with the loud slap that comes from his sudden assault on your aching pussy, nigh earning another one at the way your hips jump too suddenly in his lap. This is your punishment. Watching in lust dazed envy as your lover fucks you slowly on his cock. Listening to his heated breaths, feeling his hands all over you, being wholly enveloped by him. His voice pitches as his cock swells in your already gooey insides. You can do nothing but whine as he belts his arms around you and cums again with a broken grunt in your ear.

You sniffle as he presses a few scattered kisses behind your ear, already raising his hips to continue. “Please… please let me cum, Yuu..”

“Hhm? No one’s stopping you?”

“But I need-“

“What’dya need an asshole like me for, pretty girl?” And even though he’s being bitter his tone is still sugary. “This little princess cunt can cum all on her own, huh?”

The way you tighten around him has him groaning drunkenly in your ear. “God, you feel so fucking good..”

“Yuutaa, I can’t- I can’t without you. Please…!!”

Yuuta breathes a sigh into the crook of your neck.

He’s been going at this for what feels like forever. At this point you’re so on edge that you’ve started to goosebump and you can’t help yourself but to twitch and whine whenever he grinds against a good spot. Through the overstimulation he’s unsatiated. He can’t fuck into his perfect little pussy the way he wants without risking you getting away with that nasty attitude of yours. Hurting his feelings like you did. And being anything other than his sweet - obedient little girl.

Because bad girls. - Brats like you don’t deserve to get fucked all nice and fair like you’ve been begging him to this past hour or so. They don’t deserve gentleness on their raw little clits or any moment of reprieve you should expect from taking load after load since being seated in his lap like this.

They deserve to be treated like a hole, because that’s all you’re good for right now.

The quick intake of breath he takes startles you almost as much as the feeling of your arms being pulled back behind you. You wobble a little on your numbing legs as he uses his knees to help support you in a stand, and shutter as he presses one last kiss to your nape before standing to his height completely.

And then he starts drilling.

Yuuta has to keep his eyes from rolling back at the way he watches your reflection drool. “O-Oh! Oh, yes! Oh fuck yes, baby!”

He keeps a concentrated frown as he thrusts into you through clenched teeth.

“You’re so-“ Pap! “Fucking spoiled,” Pap! Pap! “You can’t even…mfh, act like you’re learning anything fr’m this..!”

”m’sorry..” You babble. “So s-sorry! M’so sorry, Yuu. So-… p-please… fffuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”

“S’that all you can say? Does my brat even know what she’s apologizing for?”

Your face drops out of view of the mirror when the effort to keep your neck craned up becomes too muscle consuming, most of your muscles too busy constricting and spazzing in the wake of your first orgasm. Honestly, you barely have the wherewithal to speak let alone put together a coherent thought. But you figure not responding might come at the expense of the mind numbing bliss you’re experiencing at the moment.

“F’being so mean! I didn’t-“ You gasp at the way he presses his hips against your backside, grinding himself in so thoroughly that you nearly lose your train of thought.

“I just… wanted ta spend more time with you, Yuu…!”

Yuuta pauses a quick pensive beat.

And then you’re on the floor.

He presses a hand into the middle of your back to keep you arched all prettily for him, the other, knuckle deep in your hair as he mushes your cheek into the floorboards. “So, y’ thought the best way to do that was to call me an asshole?”

“I whasn’t ‘hinking…!”

“Ohh of course you weren’t, baby,” Yuuta shudders at the way you feel creaming on him a second time. “‘Can’t be doing too much thinking now, anyways.”

You’re every nerve ending in your body when he deepens his thrusts to curve himself over your messy form, completely and utterly lost in pleasure as he pulls your head up by your hair and meets your teary eyes with his own - pupils dilated by pure affection.

“Think you can tell me what we learned outta all this? Or have you completely checked out at this point.”

“D-Don’t… don’t be so mean to Yuuta!!”

He chuckles. The kiss he places over your ear nearly pushes you over the edge as much as what he says does. “Good girl! That’s my girl. So smart.”

Your eyes roll as he unceremoniously drops your head to fuck you with more earnest. Much to your poor pussy’s dismay. “Let’s spend more time together, baby. - Just you and me.”

He coos at the way your drool starts to gather in a cute little puddle under your cheek. “After I’m sure my baby’s learned her lesson.”