#i thought hobbies were about fun and enjoying yourself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kenjakusbraincum · 10 months

Note

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

4K notes · View notes

the-modern-typewriter · 22 days

Note

So, Scary Villain (you are absolutely amazing at writing those btw chefs kiss) but vs someone who is Into That (hero or civilian) and so this scary big bad who thought they were being intimidating and downright terrifying (which they were... for a normal person) is just like ":D?!?"

I just love the slight inherit goofiness of an intimidation/scare tactic producing a VERY different result than intended towards the receiver.

(Hope you have a lovely day/night btw)

"Are you enjoying this?"

The villain stood with one hand outstretched as their telekinetic abilities wound around the hero's limbs and splayed them against the wall like a specimen beneath a microscope.

"Enjoying is...a word," the hero replied. "They said you'd be able to see me, or sense me or whatever, but man. I was sure that was bullshit."

Invisibility was a useful gift in many a situation. It didn't matter how strong or fast their opponent was when they could never see the hero coming. It didn't matter how many enemies there were when the hero could sneak past them with minimal effort and the right pair of shoes.

They'd been doing their usual, sneaking past the villain too, when the villain's hand lashed out. They hadn't bothered to even look up. The hero had gone flying as surely as if they were wearing a neon sign that screamed 'here I am!' at regular intervals.

"You might as well show yourself," the villain had drawled. "Unless you'd prefer I make an abstract painting of your organs against the ceiling."

The hero had let their invisibility drop, heart pounding.

The villain had rose, slow and predatory, to their feet. The hero hadn't been able to take their eyes off them.

The villain's head tilted at the hero's words. They took several steps closer, and all the hero could do was twitch their fingers uselessly against the wall. There was no hiding. No slipping away. The hero's breath hitched as the villain stopped less than a metre away, close enough to touch, though they didn't. Their gaze raked over the hero like a physical thing, leaving no detail spared.

"Because I can see you?" the villain asked. "Even when you don't want to be seen? Must be a novelty for someone like you."

"Because that thing you just did hurling me against a wall was bloody hot."

The villain blinked. Startled. Their eyes turned dark and molten. Their head tilted the other way.

The hero swallowed.

"But, I mean, we can call it being seen," the hero said. "Probably more professional."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Duh."

"But you are not frightened?"

"I have a peculiar reaction to danger."

"Indeed." The villain curled their finger and the pressure at the hero's throat tightened and left them choking. The villain watched it all. They might have seemed dispassionate, except...

"Enjoying yourself?" the hero rasped.

"You're a delightful surprise. Stupid, but delightful. New?"

"It's one of my many charms."

"The other being how pretty you'd look writhing and bloody with tears in your eyes? What are you doing in my lab?"

"Spelunking."

"Excellent hobby for a budding danger addict."

"I know, right?!"

The villain snorted. They loosened their telekinetic grip on the hero's throat, before they could get too dizzy. "What are you doing in my lab?"

"I was curious about you."

"Have I satisfied your morbid curiosity?"

"Morbid?" The hero wet their dry lips, but held the villain's gaze. "You haven't killed me yet. Wouldn't be as fun without the screaming and sobbing, would it?"

"There's still time." The villain paused, clocking the hero's reaction to that. "Oh, you weren't kidding. You really are a little freak, aren't you?"

"It's all in the line delivery. Do you practice?"

"No. Would you like me to practice on you?"

"I mean, I should point out I don't actually have a death wish."

"You broke into my lab."

"And for all you know I could have a cunning escape planned!"

The villain flicked their hand and the hero dropped down off the wall with a thump, landing on their knees, hands twisted behind their back. Chin tilted up by an unseen force.

"Then escape," the villain said. "Or I'll assume you want to stay like this for me."

"Most people buy me dinner first."

"We're not most people."

The hero considered them a moment, before they switched their invisibility on and then some again. Focusing. Phasing from the villain's grip.

The villain's eyes grew impossibly darker.

The hero straightened, giving a little bow.

A smirk curled the villain's lips. "I know how to keep people alive when I want to. I think I want to right now."

"Dinner? Tonight?"

"You can break in at seven."

It was the start of a beautiful new...not friendship. But they both enjoyed themselves very much.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero #villain #hero and villain #villain and hero #writing #story snippet #writing snippet #ficlet

681 notes · View notes

mythicalmaven · 7 days

Text

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,”

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union.

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

828 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 8 months

Text

adrenaline junkie

r loves to do dangerous things, relishing in the thrill, the rush of ecstasy that rushes through her. until her overprotective teammates find out about some of her hobbies. and then others find out. it doesn't go great.

disclaimer- as has been established, i do not have BDE, so i haven't ever ridden a motorcycle. or done like most of the things r does in this.

At first, it was only small things that the girls noticed. How you would climb up on stuff and jump off, prompting intense scoldings from your captains and the coaches. If this was any indication as to how they'd act if they learned about your... more intense hobbies, you were pretty determined not to let them find out.

There were different rules for professional athletes than people who's jobs didn't rely on their ability to walk. While it wasn't in your contract, you weren't supposed to do anything physically dangerous. No motorcycles, no skydiving, no cliff jumping, no zip lining, no swimming with sharks. It was all very discouraged.

You were an adult, though, a whole entire individual who could safely decide to do dangerous things for fun. Your teammates still thought of you as a kid, Alexia and Lucy especially. And sure, you were young, but completely capable of making rational decisions for yourself.

You'd had a couple close calls; as big of a city Barcelona was, your teammates all lived near you, and it only made sense that it was only a matter of time before you were caught. Your motorcycle was parked in the building's parking lot, but none of your teammates knew that it was yours when they came over. At least, not at first.

-----

You'd decided to use your bike one morning to go grab coffee. The place was too far to walk, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the fresh air. It was a few days into the holiday break, so you knew that a lot of your teammates would be out of Barcelona, at home with their families. This is why you didn't worry about going to the coffee shop that a lot of your teammates frequented. Which would turn out to be a mistake.

You'd had to circle the block the coffee shop was on before you could get a spot right in front. You pulled in, turning the engine off and taking off your helmet, leaving your jacket on. When you turned your attention to the coffee shop, or rather the little tables outside of it, you froze.

There, at one of the little tables with their coffees, sat Ingrid and Frido, jaws practically on the floor as they stared at you. Deciding to play it cool, hoping that if you acted like you hadn't done anything wrong, they'd be alright about it, you walked over to their table.

"Hey guys! I didn't know either of you were still in town." Ingrid was supposed to take Mapi with her to Norway, (Mapi had been complaining about the upcoming cold weather for weeks, but every time she even mentioned spending Christmas with Ingrid's family, she got this disgusting, love sick look on her face). Frido was also supposed to head home to Sweden.

Their only response was to gawk at you, stunned into silence.

"Guys?" You said, playfully waving a hand in front of their faces. This seemed to bring them out of their temporary stress-induced coma. Ingrid stood up, almost knocking the whole table over in the process.

"Are you CRAZY?" She shouted, hands flapping in the air as she spoke, gesturing wildly. Frido's mouth was opening and closing, as if she had so many things to yell, she couldn't settle on one.

"About...?" You said, looking between her and Frido, pretending that you didn't know very well what they were upset about.

"YOU KNOW WHAT ABOUT!" Ingrid yelled, pointing a finger insistently behind you.

"Ingrid, you're kind of making a scene." You mumbled, looking out of the corner of your eye at the pedestrians nearby staring at the Norwegian. She only scoffed in response, hands on her hips, waiting for you to explain yourself.

"You know who is going to make a scene? Alexia, when she finds out her perfect, precious, protégée rides motorcycles in her free time." Frido said finally. Your cool demeanor vanished.

"No, no, Frido you cannot tell her, she would kill me. Kill me dead. And if she didn't Lucy would. Actually, I'm pretty sure half of the team would kill me. Besides Pina. And Mapi."

Ingrid lets out an indignant noise. "Sell the motorcycle and we won't tell."

"You want me... to sell it? Come on, guys, it's not even that dangerous." You try, faltering when both girls rise to their feet again.

"NOT THAT DANGEROUS?" They shout together, and you throw your hands in the air, cutting them off before their lecture can really begin.

"Alright, alright, I'll sell it. You guys are boring. And you better not tell anyone about this. No one. Not even Mapi." You said, making them promise they wouldn't speak a word of it.

They insisted on driving home with you, following your bike in Ingrid's car. They honked whenever anyone came even close to you, and every time you caught a glimpse of them through their windows, Frido was staring at you like a cop tailing a murder suspect. At one point, you were going maybe 5 over the speed limit, and Frido stuck her head out the window, instructing you to slow down immediately.

If it wasn't so incredibly annoying, it probably would have been funny.

You parked the bike elsewhere, now, in case either of the Nordic girls decided to check and make sure the motorcycle was really gone.

-----

Mapi must have cracked Ingrid, you're sure of it. And you knew, too, that she only told Alexia on you because she was jealous that you had a motorcycle and she didn't. Of course, Ingrid thought you'd gotten rid of it. You hadn't. And Alexia, being Alexia, was suspicious enough to figure out that you still owned the motorcycle. She'd come over, accompanied by Lucy and Irene, completely unannounced. You'd let her in, somewhat confused. She snooped around without telling you what she was looking for, before triumphantly holding up the keys to your bike. They were hanging on the hook where they always were, but no one had ever thought to pay attention to them before.

Alexia yelled at you like she'd never yelled before, about the dangers of riding a motorcycle, about lying to her, about not listening when the older girls had tried to keep you safe. She was going on and on, and while Irene and Lucy had started off looking like they agreed with her, they were also definitely over the lecture after a few minutes.

You were in hot water with Alexia as soon as the words left your mouth; you weren't stupid, you knew how she would react to what you had just said, but you had always been hotheaded and her hovering and nagging had gotten to you today.

"You don't need to know about everything in my life, Alexia! I've gone skydiving, and I haven't died. I swam with sharks, and didn't die. Cliff jumping? Zip lining? Bungee jumping? Drag racing? I have done all of that, all since I've been with this team, and I am completely fine. You aren't my mother, and I don't need you to act like you are. I don't need your opinion on everything I do, I don't need you watching my every move. I can do what I want." You snapped. Alexia took a step back from where she'd been standing, a look of hurt flashing across her face.

"Y/n, you're way out of line," Lucy said, looking angry again. Irene nodded her head in agreement.

"No, no. She's right. I'm not her mother. She can do what she wants." Alexia said softly. She dropped the keys onto the counter, and walked out your door without another word.

You were flooded with guilt. Alexia had been more of a parent figure than anyone else in your life had ever bothered to be. You were grateful for it, you really were. She was part of the reason you were the person you were today, having spent the last of your teenage years on the team with her. She'd always watched out for you, always took the time to make sure you were okay. She'd expressed to you, before, her worry that she was overstepping, doing more than you wanted her to do. You'd thrown that right back in her face.

"You need to apologize. That wasn't fair of you." Irene said coldly.

"I just-"

"-No. You and I both know everything that Alexia has done for you, gone out of her way to do for you. She loves and cares about you, obviously you doing stupid and dangerous things is going to bother her." Irene's voice was deadly serious, arms crossed over her chest as she stared you down.

"When you moved here from England, do you know that Alexia called Leah, and talked to her for hours trying to get to know you, and make the transition as easy as possible?" Lucy cut in.

"When you got that concussion last season and you were in the hospital, she sat awake, all night, next to your bed, too worried to rest." Irene continued.

"She has an England shirt with your name on it that she wears to watch you play, did you know that? No one is allowed to see her in it, but she doesn't miss any of your games for England. Not one."

"Your first Christmas here, she went all out with Christmas decorations. You were living with her then, and she wanted the day to be special, even if it wasn't the way she normally did it."

They were switching off, seemingly having endless examples of all the things Alexia had done for you. You were blinking, hard, memories of how easy Alexia had made everything for you flashing through your mind. Lucy spoke more gently.

"You were 16 when you got here, y/n. She has done more for you than anyone. You're her kid whether you like it or not. It doesn't matter that you're 19 now, it doesn't matter that you don't live with her anymore."

"She deserves better than you lying to her about your dangerous hobbies, and she deserves better than how you just treated her. Fix it." Irene finished, tone still just as cold as it had been. She was, herself, rather protective of Alexia, you knew. Her reaction was completely warranted, you knew that too.

Irene turned then too, walking out your door and shutting it behind her. Only Lucy remained, staring at you critically.

"I didn't mean to hurt her feelings." You said weakly.

"I know. You did, though."

"I don't know why I said any of that, I was just annoyed."

"You're young, it's a young person thing to not think before you speak. You do it all the time, normally it doesn't end as poorly as this did." Lucy tried to joke, hating the sad frown on your face, even if you probably deserved it. You just shook your head, looking up at her as a single tear fell down your cheek.

"What do I do, Luce?"

"Give it a couple hours, and then go apologize. And sell the damn motorcycle. Or I'll remove the engine or something." At this, you did smile, if only weakly. "C'mere," she said gruffly, pulling you into a tight hug. "It'll be fine, kid. Alexia would forgive you for anything."

You hoped she was right.

-----

You stood at Alexia's door, about a half hour later. You'd meant to wait as long as Lucy had said, but you couldn't do it. You were fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for her to answer, not really sure what would greet you.

You'd seen Alexia mad, obviously. And you'd seen her sad, though less often. But you'd never seen her sad because of something you'd done. It made you feel sick, that you'd repaid her years of kindness with rude comments that completely disregarded how much she had done for you, because you were slightly annoyed with her behavior. If she was sad, you weren't sure how you could fix it.

When she answered the door, you were stunned, stunned, to see Alexia's eyes slightly red and puffy, like she'd been crying.

"Hola pequeña," she said roughly, wiping at her face as if to rid it of the evidence as to how upset she was.

"Can I come in?" You asked.

"Of course," she said, stepping to the side immediately to let you in. She led you to the living room, and you both took seats on the couch. The Alexia sitting next to you was not one you were used to seeing; you could tell how hurt she was by what you said. You could also tell she was trying to pretend she wasn't hurt, whether because she didn't want to make you feel bad, or because she was embarrassed at the obvious and uncharacteristic display of emotion. You chewed on your lip for a minute, trying to figure out how to apologize.

"Ale, I'm so sorry," you began.

"It's fine," she said, brushing your apology off. She tried to smile at you, but it was weak, and it didn't reach her eyes. It was going to be hard for you to get out what you needed to say, you knew. You weren't good at expressing your emotions, and you'd never really admitted to Alexia what an important role she had played in your life. You tried to show her through actions, but your words earlier had undone anything you'd accomplished in terms of letting her know how much you appreciated her.

"No, it's not fine. I was completely unfair to you. I didn't mean what I said, not at all. I... you've been... for me..." You trailed off, words getting jumbled. "I don't know why this is so hard for me to say."

"It's alright, pequeña, I get it," Alexia said, and she did sound less upset, like she knew what you were trying to say.

"I'm not used to having people in my life that care. I mean, I am now, because I have you and the team, but it still surprises me sometimes when I do something, and people... people care about what happens to me. You've always cared, though. Even when I was an angsty 16 year old with an attitude problem, and I didn't want you to care, you did anyway."

You take a big breath, trying to steady your voice. "You've been more of a parent to me than anyone. I value your opinion, I really appreciate that you care enough to be mad at me when I do something stupid. I'm sorry I said otherwise, because that wasn't true. I was just frustrated, but you deserve better than that. I'm really sorry about what I said, and I'm sorry that I don't express how much I appreciate everything you've done for me."

You take a peak at Alexia once you've finished talking, and find her looking out the window, jaw set tightly. At first, you think she's upset about something that you said. You see her lip wobble slightly, though, before she bites down on it, and realize what's actually going on. Your captain schools her features, before turning to you.

"Thank you for apologizing. I... I was hurt by what you said. I can't help but worry about you, and I know I probably go overboard with it sometimes, but I look at you and see the scared 16 year old you were when you got here, and all I want to do is protect you."

Alexia shuffled closer to you on the couch. "And I know you appreciate me, pequeña. You might not say it, but you show it. You don't need to thank me for caring about you, though. You shouldn't ever feel like you have to thank anyone for that. You deserve love, pequeña, I hope you know that."

You fall somewhat unsteadily into her arms, which wrap around you in a comforting embrace. You blink your tears away, wondering how your apology to Alexia turned into her comforting you, but that was the magic of Alexia Putellas.

"Y/n?” She says, chin resting on top of your head.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really do all those things you said you did?" She sounds slightly ill at the idea, and you wince, wishing you hadn't overshared all of those details.

"Yeah," you answer meekly.

"Dios mio," she mumbles.

"I'll sell the motorcycle," you say placatingly. Alexia lets out a short laugh at that, pulling back from you to look you in the eye.

"I know you will. You aren't ever riding that thing again."

"Well..." You said, unable to stop yourself from glancing towards where you had parked said motorcycle.

"You did not... drive it here... to apologize to me..." Alexia choked out, baffled.

"I did," she groans in exasperation. "But only because I'm taking it back to the dealership right after this. I called, they're gonna buy it back off me." You smile sheepishly at her.

She glares at you. "You better be telling the truth."

"I am, Ale, I promise." You rise, heading back towards the door.

"Good. Off you go, then. Get rid of that deathtrap. And wear your helmet. And drive under the speed limit. And stick to side streets, not busy ones. And-"

"-Alexia, I've been riding it for a year, I'll be fine." You say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. The blonde looks genuinely anxious at the idea of you driving off on it. "I promise, the dealership isn't far from here, and I'll text you once I'm back home."

She nods, looking at the motorcycle parked outside with an expression full of disdain. "Drive safe," she says finally, and you promise that you will.

-----

You did drive safe. It wasn't your fault that someone ran a red light, or that it just happened to occur right as you were in the middle of the intersection. It wasn't your fault that the car practically t-boned you, the last minute braking doing very little to ease the impact. It wasn't your fault that you were thrown off the bike, sliding and rolling painfully along the pavement until you came to a stop several feet away.

It wasn't your fault.

Still, as you looked up at the sky, feeling yourself begin to lose consciousness, you knew that the fact that it wasn't your fault would not get you out of trouble with Alexia. She couldn't kill you if you were already dead, though, you thought. That was horrifying, and you jerked your eyes back open, trying to stay awake. It was no use, though, and your eyes closed against your will, head rolling weakly to the side on the concrete as spots flooded your vision, until everything around you was dark and quiet.

-----

HA.

part 2 tomorrow :)

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

899 notes · View notes

aliidarling · 5 months

Note

I love you <3 Danny catches the reader using a bullet vibrator while he stalks her? No sex just him breaking in and using it on you 💕

“yes daisy” they all chant in unison..

i may of gotten overboard and wrote him fucking us :3 oopsies

camera shy

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable

summary: danny is stalking us and comes across us using a toy on ourselves and decides to have some fun!

warnings: dub con, p in v, dumbification, toy use, vibrators, sweet reader, mean danny, overstimulation, rough sex, size kink, pussy slapping, stalking danny is his own warning

nsfw / dark content below!

danny has had his eyes glued on you for a while now. following you home from your college classes, watching you get your favorite drink from that corner cafe, taking stops at the local bookstores, watching the latest movies, he was always there.

you were adorable to him. a sweet girl, with the prettiest face and a body he would love to kiss and caress, big eyes that would suck his soul if he ever looked into them. that’s why he stuck to stalking, creeping from the shadows and peering through windows.

you were his favorite hobby. he loved to analyze you and find out the reasoning behind everything you did— he wanted you. he didn’t understand what it was about you that was different from his other victims, but ever since he laid eyes on you, he knew there was different about you.

he had you in his head as the sweet girl next door, with pretty bows in her hair and a pink bedroom. you watched horror movies in your free time to thirst over the killers, read romance books, and baked sweet goods for your friends. you were a dream come true, he just wanted to swallow you whole.

which was why when he came across you on your bed, laying on your back with your hand between your plump thighs, he was surprised. very surprised. what were you doing with that toy, sweetheart? he would of never expected this outcome. he was almost offended. how had he read you so wrong? you were a dirty little slut using a vibrator on yourself, not his sweet innocent girl, what was going on?

his teeth gritted at the sight of you. his eyes were glued to where your small hands were holding onto the vibrator, pressing it against your clit as you writhed into your silky sheets. your eyes were fluttered shut, gasps leaving you as you squirmed like a little worm, feeling so good and satisfied. he had never felt more angry. he could do so much better then that stupid toy, why were you even bothering with yourself?

the urge to burst through your window and grab you tempted him, to hold you down as he uses your tiny hole and taught you a lesson, but he knew he needed to be patient. plus, he had a good view, why not enjoy it for a few minutes before he acted?

his eyes glanced down to your slick pussy, watching as it glistened and twitched. you kept whimpering pathetically, your hand going to grab one of your stuffies to cover your mouth with it, muffling your pretty noises. he wanted to rip that stupid plushie to shreds, hear the moans you produced, force some more out of you while he’s at it.

his self restraint was slowly disappearing the more he watched you. his cock hardened in his pants the more you let out those needy whines, pressing your pussy against the vibrator, your hips almost trembling. you were overstimulating yourself, dumb bitch.

soon enough he can’t stop his hand grabbing onto your window and slowly opening it, the small creak going unnoticed by you. you were too busy being a slut, and what do dumb sluts get? a psychopath creeping into their room in the late hours, a blade in their hand.

he creeps over to the edge of your bed, his tall figure looming over you and standing there menacingly. he was already smiling under the mask, almost giddy at the thought of you opening your eyes and getting the jumpscare of your life. oh, he hadn’t felt this excited since his first kill.

your dumbass kept moaning and rubbing the vibrator against your clit, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body and causing you to clench down. your eyes were closed, mouth agape, legs spread and bent at the knees. you were curling up like a kitten the closer you grew to your orgasm.

once you felt your orgasm wash over you and your cum drip down onto your fluffy blanket, you slowly opened your eyes, planning on throwing your blanket in the washer. you were caught off guard by the sight of a huge ghostface standing there.

you immediately screamed and closed your legs, your heart dropping. what the fuck. why is there a gigantic ghostface staring at you? especially when you were just jerking off? that was the jumpscare of your life, you swore, you felt your heart jump out of your chest and make a beeline for the door.

he realizes you're not as dumb as you thought when you immediately roll over to the edge of your gigantic bed — why was your bed so big anyways? a pretty little thing like you could do with a twin bed, you spoiled brat. he's quick to act, grabbing you by your ankles and throwing back in the center. princess like you deserves to be in the middle, center of spotlight.

but you’re also a whore, he remembers, a dumb slut who thought touching yourself was okay.

“shut the hell up, bitch.” he sneers, straddling you quickly and almost tripping over his robe. jesus, he definitely should of gotten it in a smaller size. he holds you down as you thrash and cry, tears already filling your cute doe eyes. he couldn’t wait to see how your tears would stain your pretty pink bed.

“w-who are you?! what do you want from me— i have no money! you can t-take my stuffies if you want— or my make up! i have a l-lot and it’ll probably add up to lot of m-money!” you ramble, whining under him as your legs are forced open by his body, your round face flushed with embarrassment and humiliation. mostly fear.

he suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at your pleas. “just shut up, and i won’t hurt you. pretty thing like you can do that, right? or are you dumber then you look?” his words are mean and harsh, striking daggers into your big golden heart.

you tear up under him, shaking as your pussy is forcefully spread open from the position. you felt so exposed and humiliated, opened up for his amusement. was he gonna hurt you? kill you? you do you ur best to listen and nod, your bottom lip quivering. he takes it between his fingers and gently pinches, making your face scrunch up to an adorable expression. he smiles under the mask.

he’s quick to grab the vibrator by your side, snickering as your eyes fill with an unreadable expression. you watch confused but still scared as he toys with the vibrator infront of you. it’s embarrassing, mostly.

“h-hey, put that down—“ you plead weakly, whimpering. how could he just play around with something so personal of yours right infront of you? you wanted to curl up and die right now, hide in a ditch for the rest of your life, anything to forget whatever was happening right now. you didn’t even know what was happening— you randomly opened your eyes and then got jumped by a fucking horror movie character?

“what is this? huh?” he hums casually and starts clicking random buttons, giggling childishly as it starts vibrating intensely. you flinch at the sight of him waving your vibrating toy in your face. god, what was wrong with this pyscho?!

“put it back!” you screech, trying to sound firm but only sounding like a pathetic wimp in the end. your voice even cracked. today was definitely your lucky day.

“put it back!” he mocks in a high pitched voice, laughing down at your terrified expression. god, you were just too cute. all teary eyed under him, lips quivering with your legs spread and glistening pussy on display, he could do whatever he wanted to you.

“dirty little slut, you were touching yourself, weren’t you? your pussy’s all wet, baby, is it for me?” he coos and rubs his hand over your pussy lips. you gasp at the friction and try to pull your hips away but you’re pinned down, pinned down and forced to react to how his large hand rubbed your needy cunt.

“oooh, you’re getting off on this, huh? not surprised, i’ve been watching you for a while now, i’ve seen you squeeze your thighs together while watching those masked men on tv.” he shakes his head, watching as you writhe and whimper at the feeling of getting your tiny hole prodded at.

“ohhh, i get it now, you’ve never had anyone touch you down here? only that pathetic piece of plastic, right?” he laughs at your face. “let me see how small it is really, i’m curious.” he grins sadistically and slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside, pushing in nice and deep until his knuckles meet your pussy lips. he doesn’t miss the way your brows furrow and how you moan.

“please, pull em’ out, please pleaseee!” your words slur as another moan is forced out of your pretty pink lips. his fingers are thick and big, stretching your pussy out and making you feel things you’ve never felt. it felt so good, to your horror. your legs couldn’t help but spread subconsciously, toes curling in as he starts to scissor you open.

“don’t lie to me doll, i know you like this. you’re practically dripping down my fingers. you’re gonna ruin my gloves, slut.” he scoffs and gives you a little swat on the cheek, making you flinch and gag on your moan. you were hiccuping and crying so pathetically under him, some moans slipping in now.

he almost laughs as you frown and start to apologize, blabbering little apologies and crying out as he slides his fingers out slowly and slamming them back inside. you were so precious, apologizing for ruining his glove.

“so sloppy.” he tsk’s, pulling his hand out and delivering a slap to your hole. you jump in surprise and attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, but he quickly holds them open with his other hand. he’s brutal as he spanks your pussy, slapping it over and over again, watching as your cum from earlier and your juices dirty his black fabric.

“ow! ow! why are you— ow!” you shriek. the pain of getting your pussy spanked was surprisingly pleasant, you almost started drooling. why did it feel so good? why did it feel so good to get mistreated and spanked like a child? you had no idea.

he chuckles and parts from you after a long minute, your body under him shaking so much. you had tears all over your face, legs quivering, pussy all red and swollen. it was so adorable.

“fat pussy, what are you feeding it?” he says meanly. his hand reaches for the vibrator again and pulls it back into his grasp, playing around with the settings. you hiccup and watch him, blinking through your glassy tears.

“u-uhm.. veggies?” you say lamely. he gives you a glare before suddenly pressing the head of the toy into your clit. you immediately react in a cry and yelp of surprise, eyes rolling back as your clit is overstimulated beyond belief. you were still so sensitive from your session before.

“o-oh! nghh— oh, please,” you pant, the moans leaving you like butter. your chest was heaving up and down, eyes rolled back with tears on your cheeks. you were such a pretty sight, all slutted out in your girly little bed. strangling you with one of your satin ribbons sounds like a good way to end you, but first he wants to make you cum so many times you go dumb, if you weren’t already mentally stupid. then maybe he can think about keeping you.

two orgasms later, you’re limp on your bed with a mess between your thighs. you have your cum all over your pussy and dripping onto your pink blanket, shaky hiccups leaving you, your throat dry from all the moaning he caused. you could barely feel your legs. your clit throbbed and burned.

“you’re such a good girl,” he soothes, scooping you up into his arms and petting your hair as one would do with a pet. you were so cute, you would make such a good puppy. “did so well, baby, took it all.” he presses your face into his broad chest, holding you closely.

you were such a sensitive thing, probably would break if he squeezed too hard. you were barely coherent with your words, only letting out barely audible mumbles. you barely notice as he starts to press his hips against yours, the large bulge very clear.

“w-wait, no, can’t take no more..” you protest weakly. he ignores you and lays you back down, spreading your legs and giving your pussy a little pat before parting. he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs your satin sleeping mask, slipping it over your eyes. he smiles at the sight of you and gives you some chin scratches and rubs before pulling away.

“don’t look, kay? if you do, i’m gonna gut you, okay? good girl.” he was practically talking to himself at this point. you were so tired and overstimulated you couldn’t even take a peek if you wanted to.

“mhm.” you grunt out. you hear the sound of fabric wrinkling and rustling. you could only assume what he was doing, and in this type of situation, it was pretty obvious.

he pulled off his robe which left him in his dark tee shirt and jeans. you hear him unbuckle his belt, the metal clinking together making you flinch. he dryly chuckles at the reaction before unzipping his fly and pulling his clothes off swiftly. he would be more fast with this, but these jeans cost a lot and he wasn’t gonna wrinkle them for a slut like you.

“gentle.” you plead. he ignores you and pulls his cock out, pumping it sloppily, his precum dripping down his length. he was thick, with a good advantage on inches. he knew it would hurt for you, and he was looking forward to it. poor baby had only had his fingers before this, and now he was gonna put his 8inch cock inside you.

“mmmm,” he hums absentmindedly, burying your face in his chest as he leans over you. he pushes your thighs up to your chest, opening you up. your pussy sparkles, winking at him maybe. he smiles and rubs his tip against your tiny hole, sighing lowly as the feeling makes him flutter his eyes.

“relax for me, mkay?”

he honestly doesn’t care if he hurts you or not, but considering he cared about his dick, he knew you would need to relax your walls. he didn’t want his blood circulation to be cut off, that would be an awkward drive to the hospital. especially with blue balls.

“uh huh,” you mumble as you hesitantly relax. he drags his fat head across your slit before slowly pushing in. your eyes squeeze shut under the sleeping mask you wore, teeth gritting at the pain. oh god, he was ripping you in half. that’s what it felt like.

you let out a mix of a cry and moan, hole clenching down on him as he buries himself inside you. your body quivers delicately, struggling to take him. danny watches with narrowed eyes, his hands on the back of your thighs and folding you in half under him, his breath heavy. your pussy felt so tight and warm, he felt like he could cum already.

“i-i can’t—“ you choke out. he chuckles at how pathetic you sounded, crying at how big his dick was. he hums and start to give you shallow thrusts, pushing out a few inches and sliding back in.

“yeah you can, shut up’ and relax.” his words are gruffly as he focuses on sliding in and out of you, a small groan leaving him. his grip tightens on you. if you told him an hour ago while he was getting ready to stalk you that he would end up balls deep in you, he’d call you crazy and probably gut you.

“mppphhh…” your voice is muffled as you press your lips together, whimpering at his large size. he shushes you. he doesn’t really care about your pain, he likes you(he likes you as much as a psychopath could), but he could care less if he was stretching your pussy. if anything, it made it better for him, knowing he was too big for you.

“what? am i hurting you? grow up, sweetheart.” his words are mean as he starts to harden his thrusts, slamming his cock inside you every second. your moans grow louder and your body squirms, mouth falling agape. everytime his tip brushes against your sweet spot all the way in the back of your sweet cunt you clench down, making him hiss and think about wether he wanted to stab you or kiss you more.

“your pussy may of just saved you, baby, can’t kill such a sweet girl with such a tight hole.” he snickers at your immediate reaction of horror. he’s quick to start thrusting harder and faster, chasing his own high. more moans are forced out of your throat as your lips quiver.

“a-augh! i-it’s so- feels good..” you whine shakily, giving in to the blissful feeling he was shoving inside you. he laughs at you. “yeah?” he hums and shifts closer to you, gaining a leverage with his hold on your waist, and starts to slam himself inside you repeatedly. his cock brutally batters your insides.

you looked so dumb under him, whimpering and barely making out coherent words as he fucks you hard and deep. a part of him wonders if you’re even fully conscious, did he shove his cock too deep and puncture your brain? that would be a funny way to die.

it’s not long before he cums deep inside you, groaning lowly and probably giving your little body bruises. you let out a few sobs, tears all over your face as you pant and shake. there’s cum all over your pussy, your lips swollen, tits bruises from him groping them and slapping them. he’s never seen a more delicious sight. it almost makes him want to give you round three— no, like, round four? no, round five. it would make him want to give you a fifth round just to hear you sob at how deep his cock hits, but he’s getting tired now. and he has a 9 to 5 tomorrow he’s not looking forward to, but a man has to make a living somehow, right? not everyone can murder all day and come back home to a mansion.

“yeah, yeah, i know.” he says dryly, pulling out of your abused pussy. he rubs the cum into you a little before parting and looking you over. you were a pretty sight, he’s definitely gonna come back. he pulls his robe back on and fixes his mask, his dick still semi hard. but whatever, not everyone can get whatever they want.

“a-are you gonna go now?” you sniffle quietly, laying limp like a lifeless doll, too tired from the pounding to move. it’s silence for a little too long, all you could hear was rustling and the sounds of objects clattering. you’re wondering what the hell he’s doing before you suddenly get hit hard on the temple, the pain blinding you for a moment before everything goes black. the masked freak really just knocked you out, huh?

you wake up later, not knowing how long it’s been or what time it is. you saw your ceiling as you groggily stirred, the pink walls blinding you for a second before you yawn. your head throbbed, and so did your body. it felt like you had been run over by a train.

your lazy as you sit up, rubbing your eyes. your head hurt so much, oh god. your pink bed had stains on it. small flashes of last night appeared in your mind, the memory of getting pinned down and used, but it all felt so unreal. there was no proof he had done what he did, only the bruises on your body.

you peered at your nightstand, blinking slowly at the sight of plan b and a polaroid cluttering your table.

the polaroid showcased you and ghostie, you being passed out behind him as he held up a silly peace sign. your belly was covered in his cum and was smeared into a messy heart.

on the back of the polaroid was a note written in a handwriting more terrifying then the situation.

hi baby!! i loved our little playdate <3 can’t wait to see you again, make sure you’re not late to class! you have one at 8am this morning, better start getting ready ๑(◕‿◕)๑

you squinted your eyes and looked at your alarm clock. it was 8:24 am. oh crap.

#ghostface smut #ghost face x reader #ghostface #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #dead by daylight smut #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight

527 notes · View notes

jyoongim · 4 months

Note

Can I request an Alastor x reader where she is a newer sinner. Really nerdy, obsessed with history, fun facts, animal facts, and shy at first. Just says things randomly, like “did you know that if a cow has twins more often than not she abandons ones just rearranging things when bored, someone will come down to lobby in the middle of the night and there she is moving the couches at like 3am. Doesn’t think when she speaks when she sees Alastor in his overlord form just says something like “smash” before walking off. Kind of a this gives me conflicted feelings and made me learn something about myself I don’t think I should know. It can be smut or fluff I don’t mind! My friends just say I have adhd, never been tested, don’t wanna be lol, I just ramble when I get excited and talk too much or too loud when excited too. It’d be nice to see a reader like me :) thank you love! I’m trying not to ramble so I’m sorry if this all over the place!

Hehehe could be possible adhd but I’m also certain everyone has a touch of tism as well so you’re not alone hehehe.

(I too have undiagnosed adhd)

Typing this from my phone cause I’m scared to do it on my work computer😭 should have brought my iPad to work

————————————————————————-

You had always been…different.

When you were alive you spent most of your time doing your hobbies or reading. You weren’t much of a social butterfly but did make the effort every once in a while. But people always treated you like you were an annoyance.

You were strange. Even by demon standards.

But you made a lovely addition to the Princess of Hell’s hotel.

You enjoyed being about to sprout random facts and have people actually be interested.

Animals, history, science you name it you randomly knew it.

You rambled during bonding excersies until you caught yourself yapping and instantly apologized.

You talked to yourself (having been caught in the act more than once)

Husk called you a loose screw but Angel found it charming. Charlie thought you were just the cutest.

And Alastor….

Well you definitely piqued his interest.

————————————————————————

You and Angel were having a “self care” day. Well Angel was. You were just happy to play in his fluff. Angel was telling you about the latest shoot he had to do and then the subject jumped to saying lives. “Oooh cmon toots don’t tell me no one’s were had the hots for that brain of yours” you pin curled his hair, “hmmmm not that I know of. Besides most people think I’m strange, wouldn’t want to scare the masses”

Angel rolled his eyes “well what about here at the hotel? Anyone catch yer fancy?”

You think about it but your mind comes to a blank. Nope you couldn’t in point who you would be the SLIGHTEST but interested in.

The sound of shoes met your ears and you turned to see Alastor entering the lobby. Your ear perked up and your eyes immediately locked in.

You would say you and Alastor were friends. The two of you had great conversations, he listened to your rambles and always told you facts of the time period when he was alive.

He wasn’t in his usual pristine attire. Instead of the polish look, he was dressed more casual. A white button up, rolled at his elbows, wearing dress pants and suspenders, he even didn’t have his gloves on.

He paid no mind to the two of you in the lobby, seemingly in his own world.

“Smash” you said tilting your head, causing Angel to burst out laughing and you blush when you realized you said that out loud.

Alastor turned around, eyebrows quirked “something amusing was said?”

You quickly shook your head while Angel chuckled “Our fact machine here thinks you’re hot*

Alastor blinked, his eyes settling on you.

You wanted to hide in the couch from embarrassment, but Alastor just took a sip of his coffee and began to walk from where he came. He got to the hallway door because pausing briefly, turning to look at you over his shoulder

“I suppose I would ‘smash’ you too dear”

Your cheeks burned and Angel choked as Alastor disappeared.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fluff

416 notes · View notes

heavenlycloud · 7 months

Text

le sserafim reaction to you doing a tiktok trend on them: le sserafim x fem! reader

authors note: i wrote this back when these trends were actually trending a few months ago. this wasn't requested but i got the idea while scrolling through tiktok and forgot to post it so here it is!

tw// VERY VERY light barely there suggestive remarks

sakura ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

you and your members had just gotten finished with weeks of packed schedules with little rest. finally, you were finally fixing your sleeping schedule and feeling less like a zombie and more like a human being again. your members were decompressing in their own ways like yunjin who was lost in her own world strumming on her guitar in the room beside yours. chaewon and kazuha were watching some new drama in the living room and eunchae was asleep in her room. sakura busied herself with her new hobby, crocheting, while listening to a video with her headphones on. you watched your girlfriend make her new project- a small bag made of mesh-like stitches. her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to count her stitches in her head so not to disturb you sitting silently across from her. she assumed you were reading a new book from your online library but you were actually just watching tiktoks. after seven chapters of your novel you'd lost interest and switched to something more entertaining. you'd stumbled onto a trend of girls asking their boyfriends to hand them an orange, then asking if they'd peel it for them to see the reaction. with nothing else to do you decided to give it a try:

"kkura?" you poked your girlfriend with your socked foot and she answered without looking up from her crocheting, "yes?" you put your phone in your lap and sighed, "i want a clementine, do you know if we have any?" sakura hummed and looked up, "there's some in the kitchen inside of the refrigerator in the bottom left drawer. i just got them for you yesterday on my way home." you smiled at the mention because you didn't ask her to buy them for you yesterday, she just did it because she thought you'd enjoy them. you clasped a clip back onto one of the twists that fell into your face before you asked sweetly, "can you please get it?" without hesitation sakura nodded and said while still focusing on the hook and yarn in her hand, "gimmie one second." when she finished her row she went to get your clementine and returned with two and a paper towel.

your girlfriend sat back down and began peeling the clementines for you without you having to ask. she even pulled the little stringy parts that you hated most off and threw them away with the peels. when she handed you back the peeled fruits you asked, "why did you peel them for me?" sakura answered easily, "you don't like how the peels gets stuck under your nails so i did it. enjoy." you leaned over and kissed her cheek, "thank you, kkura." she pressed a kiss to your temple, "of course my love."

chaewon ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

despite being a part of gen z and being called one of the best gen z idols by fans, you were underqualified in one area: social media. you didn't even remember to check your texts let alone what was trending across different apps. the only reason you knew if something was on trend or not was because of fans or your friends teaching you. however, after being teased about it you promised yourself that you'd keep up a little more just for fun. plus, your bosses suggested it'd be good for fan service and engagement which was always a good thing. but, what wasn't a good thing was that little promise to keep up with trends resulted in you now being 'chronically online' according to yunjin. you scrolled through your for you page and watched yet another video of a woman asking her partner, "name a woman." after going down a rabbit hole of the same type of video you decided to try it out on your own girlfriend.

"baby." you shook chaewon lightly as she laid in your arms with her cheek pressed against your bare shoulder. she answered sleepily, "hmmm?" you grinned as you told her, "name a woman."

chaewon pulled away from you slightly and asked, "what do you mean?" you responded plainly, "name a woman." your girlfriend toyed with one of your box braids and asked once more in confusion, "any woman?" you clarified, "any woman." she then replied without a second thought, "han sohee." you let out a huff and tried again, "name a different woman." chaewon answered again with a different name, "bada lee." you could almost hear the smile in her voice that time and you whined, "you were supposed to say my name!" your girlfriend pulled away from you fully and told you, "you said 'name a woman' not 'name my woman'. there's a difference, you're mine."

yunjin ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

you were no stranger to the song water by tyla or the dance challenge that went along with it. one evening while you were on a weverse live you'd played the song after seeing people comment the title. you sang along to it and mentioned with a smirk, "i want to perform this on a stage so bad guys. i learned the dance and everything but i don't know if i'd ever be able to show you. ever since you'd randomly danced to WAP during a live a year ago, you've been monitored more than your other members. but after fans demanded for days on end you were finally allowed to post your water challenge on tiktok.

"i dunno i think you need to do it again." yunjin sat in front of you with her back against the mirror in the dance practice room. your girlfriend was acting as your camerawoman for your tiktok challenge, and she had you redo the dance nearly 15 times now. you taught her the dance earlier and she was doing it a little too well yet she insisted only you be in the video. she eyed you up and down with her gaze lingering on your rolled up tank top and sweatpants that sat low on your hips. you sighed and did the dance again along to the music before asking her, "was that one better? lemme see-" you reached for her phone and she said, "oh i wasn't recording that." your eyes widened and you asked, "wha- why not?! were you recording any of them?" yunjin shook her head and you smacked her arm, "yunjin! you had one job!" your girlfriend defended herself, "what? you can't expect me to remember what i'm supposed to do if you're shaking all that in my face." she wrapped her arms around your waist and kissed your neck but you pulled away.

you told her, "you can have me later okay? now focus!" just as you were pulling away she looped her fingers around one of the strings of beads that sat on your hips. yunjin tied a hoodie around your torso and said, "much better. now i can focus." you rolled your eyes and told her, "you're no better than a man." she waved you off, "yeah okay. just do your little dance...i'm ready now i swear."

kazuha ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

you knew that yunjin created a monster when she introduced your members to chipotle and not even a full day later kazuha was saying she missed it. every time she looked back through her camera roll for pictures to post she was sending her chipotle photo to the group chat saying she wanted it again. you found it hilarious because all it took was one bowl and she was already whining about how korea needed to get hip to the fast food chain.

one night after scrolling through your tiktok feed you saw a man recreate chipotle at home for his wife so you thought you'd try it for kazuha. you couldn't find all of the exact recipes but you came pretty close despite the fact that cilantro just doesn't really exist in korea. but knowing your girlfriend, she'd appreciate anything that you gave her so it was fine.

"zuha! baby come here i have something for you." you called kazuha to the kitchen where you had all of the food laid out in containers on the table. you handed her a bowl and said, "i made you chipotle." kazuha's eyes lit up and she nearly jumped over the table to tackle you into a hug. she clapped her hands together and you stood on the other side of the table to serve her your home version of chipotle. she was more than happy to post about it on weverse, showing the meal off to everyone especially knowing that her members weren't around to steal any off her plate.

#kpop fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop imagines #girl group fluff #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #le sserafim scenarios #lesserafim imagines #le sserafim reactions #kpop girl group #yunjin imagines #kazuha imagines #sakura imagines #chaewon imagines #le sserafim x reader

514 notes · View notes

typing-catastrophe · 8 days

Note

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, an you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing, until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smiled was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

#you can read this as non-romantic/planotic too #i think #i hope you see my vision with the drawing #maybe i'll do a quick shitty compositon once i'm done writing this #also your sketchbook is fairly new and fords campaign book happens to be the exact same model #if anyone was wondering how r could mix them up #gravity falls #gf #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford x reader #stanford pines x you #my writing #i didn't really proofread this but i hope it turned out okay

336 notes · View notes

art · 4 months

Text

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with?

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy.

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few: I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail, @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors, the sweetness of @bevsi’s art, @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts, @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art, @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art, and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #tgcf #ivy comic #mimimar

2K notes · View notes

listofwhyyouloveher · 1 month

Note

Can you do hcs of the greasers with like a rich spoiled reader, she’s like so out of touch, using daddy’s money for everything, but smh she’s so nice to them, they’d be like 😃??

i feel like it would be so funny, i love your writing btw 💞

Summary: The gang x spoiled but nice reader

Warnings: none

Authors Note: none

PONYBOY thinks you're genuinely one of the most beautiful girls in the world. He loves how smooth and silky your hair is, how you style it, how you dress. He notices little details about you that you might not have noticed yourself. He harbors such a big crush on you but he thinks that you'll be stuck up and spoiled. So imagine his surprise and delight when you kindly help him pick up the books that spilled out of his locker.

Later on, he runs up to you and with all his courage. Thank you and ask you on a date. You're all smiles as you accept. You think he's pretty cute and super smart. He loves taking you out, and he especially likes getting gifts from the heart because he appreciates how you notice the thought behind the soft and not the money even though you don't know the fact that greasers aren't exactly rich.

Johnny tries to avoid socs as much as he can. However, you come up to him first, he's immediately entranced by the smell of your perfume and hair wash, it soothes him. He's surprised at how kind you were, offering to just buy him a ticket so he didn't have to climb under the fence. He doesn't accept, of course, but he sees you later along in the movie and you offer to get him some drinks and snacks.

That ends up being your first date, and he starts trying to hang out with you more often. He's totally head over heels, he'll always remind you that you're so beautiful and lovely.

Sodapop is used to soc girls. He knows they aren't all bad but that they just can't be around greasers. He thought you were pretty but just another soc girl. Until you started openly chatting him up in front of others. He thought you'd ignore him, but he's pleasantly surprised. He also really enjoyed the conversation since it was about one of his hobbies. You mentioned how you were trying to get out of a date that you didn't really want to go on and Soda offered to help.

He ended up taking you out, and it was genuinely the most fun he's ever had. He loves your laugh, how it's so free, and it seems like you're unbothered by any negativity. He can see such a future with you but he's too shy to say anything.

Steve is infatuated with you from the moment he saw you. You're exactly his type and you exude the carefreeness only someone who is mature and well rounded can show. You have a lot of hobbies and talents and he starts trying to strike up conversations based off of it. He never really expects much out of it, he thinks that you'll just brush him off as a creepy greaser, but he's so happy when you notice your effort and start talking to him more and more.

He asks you out in passing, and he's so happy that you accept that it's the only thing Soda hears about for days leading up to the date. He brings your favorite flowers like a gentleman and makes sure to treat you like the lady you are.

Two Bit knows his "place" in Tulsas society. He knows he can flirt and fool around with a soc, but he'll never consider being in a relationship with one. It just doesn't work out most of the time. He only ever started talking to you because his sister did. He's seen you from afar. He knows that if he'd talk to you, he'd probably seek a relationship with you. So he's desperately trying to get his sister away from you. You two were engaged in conversation about "girl stuff" (or that was his assumption), and he just couldn't help that you were so kind to his sister even if she was a "greaser".

You returned his sister to Two-Bit, telling him how cute she was and how she was so interested in your makeup. He chuckles nervously and cracks an awkward joke, which you find really funny, and he walks home with your laugh stuck in his head.

is like Two Bit. He knows he shouldn't be with a soc, and that would screw life up for the both of you, and he knows that you're probably the best girl in Tulsa, but he refuses to acknowledge you in any shape or form. He only starts talking to you because your dad hired him to work on the roof. You asked him why he didn't become a football player because you thought he was pretty good and he had to go through the grueling tale of his life.

He was surprised at how apologetic you were for mentioning the subject, saying how a lot of people thought you were out of touch with life. He said that he thought you were pretty smart and that the people who said that just are jealous. His was love struck at seeing you smile like that and now whenever he thinks of you he blushes.

DALLAS is a total jerk to you. All he's looking for from you is a lay with one of the richest girls in town. He won't find it though, and he learns you actually have a lot more character than what's on the surface. He then tries to get you to be his plug and buy his cancer sticks and alcohol when he wants but he learnt that you get IDed because of how beautiful and youthful you look. He so frustrated with you because he knows you can't give him anything he wants on the surface level.

While he's dating you, he notices how much nicer he feels. He's always a lot more relaxed around you, and he loves being near you. He also notices how the police don't bother him as much anymore. As frustrated as he was at the beginning of the relationship, he's learned to appreciate you a lot more, and he thinks you're out of touch, naivety is cute. (He likes feeling like the one relied on)

174 notes · View notes

skipper19 · 1 month

Text

Imagine this...

Wade Wilson is and always will be a cocky bastard. And ever since the..upgrade, so to speak, he will always be a little crazy as well. He's also a very good observer. Most people think of Wade as more of an idiot than anything, which isn't necessarily wrong, but he's not completely ignorant either. He makes astute observations all the time.

Especially after he met you. A hobby of his includes people watching. He enjoys making guesses and hypothetical observations about people based on how they perform naturally. This became especially true after he met you. It wasn't under the best circumstances, that's for sure, but it's a story for another day. Basically, you killed him (if he could die), and he became obsessed. Simple as that.

No, it's not really because you.. incapacitated him. People are after his head on a platter all the time. It was more because you did it on accident, isn't that fun?

Wade was chasing some poor robber down the streets. Chasing is a bad word for it. He was more like following him. The poor asshole decided to steal some ladies' purse, but Deadpool happened to be nearby. The man gave chase, and Wade began to happily skip after him down the streets of New York.

He was happier than usual because Spider-Man had requested his help in New York, hence why he was there in the first place. This was unfortunate for the robber. Wade happily unsheathed his sword as the robber backed himself into the dead end of an alleyway. "Alright, macho, I've got plenty of time to teach ya some manners. 'Cause honestly, it was so rude of you to take that ladies shit. Like, you didn't even ask. I can't let you walk around with a bad attitude like that!" And his joke would have been perfect, say the line and then cut off one of his legs. But he didn't get to the punchline before a heavy metal bucket fell onto his head.

The robber didn't hesitate to take his chance and run as Wade's neck snapped, and he fell to the ground. He wheezed as he blinked, struggling to move. "Oh.. oh, this isn't fun." His voice sounded as if his lungs were being squeezed. He couldn't move anything but his eyes and mouth, so he couldn't turn his head to see who was running out of the side door to the building.

Quick footsteps approached his folded body, and he could see their feet. Or rather, their shark slippers. "Oh my god.. Oh my god. I just killed a man." The voice panicked. "Ah, don't worry about it -" but he was cut off as your foot came flying in contact with his nose. You screamed and covered your mouth, eyes wide as you eyed the man on the alleyway outside your apartment.

His neck snapped in a way that made your gut queasy, and his, now broken, nose looked funny, pointed so far to the right. Even through his odd mask, you could tell it wasn't a pretty one. You didn't mean to kick him. It just happened! You thought he was dead, and then he talked, and he sounded so casual that a natural fight or flight picked up in your brain and...well yeah.

..now you're dragging him into your apartment elevator. He was heavy, and you couldn't tell if it was because of his suit and armor or because of his own body weight. It was probably both. Luckily, the landlord just recently got the elevators fixed. You might have given up the moment you saw the stairs if they were the only option.

Now you were really doubting your decision as you stared down at this masked man on your couch. Basic respect kept you from pulling up his mask, and anxiety kept you wondering if the couch was too uncomfortable. You then had to remind yourself that you broke his fucking neck before dragging him up here. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, and you moped to the kitchen.

It didn't take long for your cup of coffee to brew, and you hummed in delight as you smelt the beverage. It may have been too late for caffeine, but you really needed a pick me up after the day you were having.

"Oh damn, I love that brand! Can I have some?" Wade's voice startled you, and your glass slipped from your hands. Hot coffee poured down the front of your cotton shirt, and you gasped in pain before dropping the mug. The noticeable cracking of the mug slipped your mind as you hastily pulled your soaked shirt away from your skin. You did NOT need to be burned on top of everything today.

Wade kissed his teeth and held a fist up to his mouth, tilting his head as if he had been the one burnt. "Ah, fuck, really didn't mean to scare ya toots." Ironic, you thought to yourself. It was way past that point after breaking his neck and-

.. wait, he looked fine. No, that's impossible. Surely you just couldn't see him properly because of the dim lights in your kitchen. Or maybe it was because of his suit. Oh! Perhaps you were dreaming, and all of this was a big nightmare.

"Uhm..nope, I'm very real princess." Wade's voice cut through the tense silence. After a few more seconds of staring at him, your eyes rolled back, and you stumbled to the floor. Wade wasn't even slightly fazed by this. He's had worse reactions to a first meeting with a stranger.

"And you haven't even seen my face yet, sweetness." He mumbled as he kneeled down next to you. He debated on what to do for a few seconds before huffing and shrugging his shoulders an 'oh well.' He stood back to his feet and opened your cabinet to find a clean mug. "Ohh~ I haven't had good coffee in ages!" He spoke to your unconscious form in excitement, pouring the hot liquid into the yellow mug. Wade smiled as he downed the coffee in one gulp, the steam coming out his nose. "That's the shit right there.." Wade belched with a nod.

And that's how he met his shy girlfriend..

-------------------------------------------------♤

Months went by, and it wasn't long before Wade Wilson was wrapped around your finger. He would randomly appear in your home and stick around for hours at a time. Most nights, he wouldn't stay all night and would get out of your hair as you went to bed. Eventually, he came around and began sleeping on your couch.

This evolved into the big idiot coming to you after every mission, no matter the shape he was in. You became used to his company, and luckily, you grew used to the sight of blood and gore pretty fast. Even better, you enjoyed his personality. He was surprised with how fast you grew comfortable with his insane rambling and odd comments to "the audience past the screen." He found his feelings for you to start growing out of proportion.

Once he realized just how down bad he had gotten for you, he was very bold about his feelings. He wasn't trying to hide a single thing around you, especially his adoration for you. One thing led to another, and you both began to date.

After he brought you home blood-soaked take out bags and got down on one knee like he was going to propose to you. Outside of your home. Where all your neighbors could see, of course.

Despite the rocky start, it was a hit. The relationship between you both blossomed into a happy routine. But this didn't mean you grew out of your shy personality. Since day one, you have been quiet and reserved. And not in the way that you were keeping secrets. You answered any questions Wade had for you without missing a beat. But you would never initiate things unless he did. You never asked to see his face. You never once stated you wanted to know his career. Hell, Wade had to tell you himself that you should be angry with him for dragging blood into your apartment.

Wade was definitely the opposite. He was cocky, loud, flirtatious, funny, and if he had something to say he would fucking say it. He didn't need someone else to do it first. Perhaps this was mostly because he was an impatient man, but also because he had never been afraid of conflict. Hence why he became a mercenary in the first place. Plus, the money was damn good, too.

On one of the more slow days, Wade had decided to stay in your apartment and just wait for you to return home from work. You hadn't texted or called since your lunch break earlier, but he simply thought it was because you were busy. Surely you would call him on your way home, like you always do, to make sure he didn't need anything at the store. But your call never came.

Instead, Wade heard the front door quietly open and close. He smirked softly at the soft footsteps in the entrance hallway. "Took you long enough short cake! I was getting worried thinking about ya, I didn't want to have to eat dinner without my favorite dessert around." He would often tease you like this, and every time you would respond with a shy smile and a fond eye roll.

It was a beautiful smile.

And Wade felt his heart drop when he looked over his shoulder, peering over the back of the couch, to see you standing there. Your cheek was swollen, a slight cut on your lip, and a distant look in your eyes. There is no trace of the sweet girl he loved so much. You looked so numb at the moment.

Wade didn't hesitate to stand from the couch, but his actions made you blink out of the trance you found yourself in. You glanced at him and looked down at the floor, eyeing the trail of mud you tracked through the house. "I'm sorry.." You mumbled. Wade didn't get to say anything before you kicked off your shoes and started walking to your bedroom.

Wade silently followed you until he was standing in your bedroom doorway, watching you change into something more comfortable. You were moving like a zombie. He hated it. He was so used to your timid and slow movements because that's who you were. But this was..this was heartbreaking.

"I'll, uhm.. I'll clean up the mud after I change." You mumbled, pulling your arm through the hole of the T-Shirt. Wade stepped forward with a sigh. "Honey -" "I can cook dinner after, I meant to stop and get groceries on the way home but..I got sidetracked." You interrupted him, your quiet voice sounding forced. Almost as if you were holding back tears.

"Baby, stop -" But you interrupted him again when you attempted to push past him, probably trying to go to the kitchen. Wade gently gripped your arms to keep you in place as he stood in front of you, blocking your way. Your gaze stayed planted in front of you, as if you were looking through him. Wade leaned down so you would finally look at him. He could see the bruise forming under your eye better now. And something in his gut twisted painfully at the sight.

"What happened?" He said softly. You shrugged, and your eyelids fluttered softly. "It-It doesn't matter now. It's over, and I just want to relax." You sounded like you were trying to make yourself believe it more than Wade. And his eyebrows (or rather, where his eyebrows would be if he had any hair) furrowed, and he held eye contact with you. "What. Happened?" He was more stern this time.

Perhaps it was his serious demeanor that caused your facade to crack and crumble. He was never this way, even when he returned home missing limbs. The concern in his voice tilted your already fragile state. And you began to sob. Wade hadn't expected such a turn in emotions so fast, and he pulled you into his chest. He easily ran his fingers through your hair as he waited for you to calm down. Maybe Wade wasn't a patient man, and he was definitely too cocky for his own good, but when it came to you, he dropped all of this and just became Wade Wilson.

The man before the tests and experiments, before the laboratory and cancer, when he was just himself. And he loved that you did this to him. You put the scrambled pieces of his mind back together by just being with him. By loving and supporting him. And Wade would be damned if he let this situation go. He would stay and put your own broken heart back together. He didn't know what happened, but he could take a guess. And it wasn't pretty.

Especially for whatever asshat decided to lay their hands on you. But Deadpool could worry about that later. Wade Wilson was more worried about his girlfriend at the moment.

He soothed you and rubbed circles on your back, allowing you to cry into him. It was just you two in the whole world right now. And that's how you liked it. Everything else could wait until later.

230 notes · View notes

beababoobies · 3 months

Note

GIRL I LOVE YOU

What do you think of a Jealous! Satoru husband x Beautiful! Reader's wife where they haven't had gogogo for months, their relationship is cold and Satoru is distant, so the reader goes to a nightclub to dance and Satoru in the middle of her missions finds her and gets very jealous? And then they confess their love to each other and have a happy night?

All the love from Venezuela my dear queen 🇻🇪🔥

Hihi!! Venezuela??? Un nuevo seguidor de habla hispana!!! hola! This looked so fun to write, so I jumped right on it. Enjoy fellow QWEEEN. <3 much love from Canada !!

warning: slight angsty, self-deprecation. This is unedited and not proof-read, so if you see any errors, please feel free to shoot me a dm! Thank you!!

There were some things you shared with your friends. Hobbies, personal details, clothes, but you couldn’t share how things had been going with your husband, Satoru. It would be way, way too embarrassing to talk about how you, first of all, hadn’t been intimate in months, and second all, barely spoke. You went to sleep in the same bed. You shared a closet. But the words exchanged between the two of you were so far and few in-between one could’ve assumed it had been an arranged marriage. The most you had gotten in the past handful of months had been a kiss on the cheek, and that was because you were visiting friends and didn’t want to look awkward. The drive back to your house was silent. You felt like screaming.

There was a million things bottled up in your mind, and even more importantly, your body. There was a screaming to have intimacy, obviously, human instinct - but there was something so much deeper, an insecurity you had been picking at like a scab that never healed. The dreadful thought that this was entirely your fault, that he wasn’t attracted to you anymore, or maybe you had said something wrong. You kept coming back to it, at night when you missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist, the way he just gave you a small nod whenever you asked if he liked your outfit. The way you couldn’t bring yourself to try and rekindle the raging fire you once danced in, now burnt out and nothing above an amber.

So, one night, while the very man in question was out on one of his millions of missions, you let the insecurities get the best of you. You wanted to feel desired, you longed to feel as wanted and yearned over as you had when your husband took you out on those first could have dates. The way he tripped over himself when he used to open the door for you, feigning confidence. The memories lit a new flame in you - anger, as sharp as a blade and just as deadly as you dolled yourself back up, heels brand new and matching with the most scandalous outfit you owned - paired with your hair done up? Oh, you felt like your self-worth had turned from a penny to a fortune. Something not the richest men in the world could afford, not even your bum of a husband.

You felt anxiety bubble up in your stomach on the way to the club you used to hang around before you and Satoru had finally put a ring on it. What if you truly had somehow turned into some gross form of a human in the years you had been married? What if your late-night suspicions were correct, and Satoru was justified in the way he drifted off from you? What if you didn’t deserve him anymore, and you were trying to convince yourself of something completely untrue, instead of just begging him to stay?

The anxiety in your stomach melted away the second you stepped into the purple lights of the club. Eyes drifted to you, quicker than you had even anticipated. You almost felt dissected by the amount of pupils that dilated once they fell onto you. Like a sleek race car that had been kept in the garage for a decade, finally dusted off and speeding down the freeway, the wind in your hair. Sitting down the bar was easy, avoiding unwanted attention was not.

Okay, maybe it was a little unrealistic to want the looks but not to be approached. You did want to make Satoru jealous, maybe just a bit, but it would never cross your mind to actually cheat on your husband. To you, he was still the most handsome man you’d met in your entire life. The drunkards and men on other substances that approached you couldn’t compare if they tried, but you did end up accepting a couple free drinks. How could you not? Free alcohol.

So there you sat, alone, a shining star in an ocean of black, a little more tipsy than you were ever planning to get. The bar seemed to spin a little bit, and rejecting men seemed to get a little harder. Apparently, being drunk makes you automatically available. A new anxiety bubbled up in your tummy, and suddenly you missed your husband, you needed to lay on his chest more than you needed air. Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks, but you wouldn’t let them. You wouldn’t ruin the makeup you put on less than an hour ago. You pulled your phone out of your purse, sniffling softly as you planned to call Shoko and cry to her, finally talk about your situation.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump a little bit, but you were used to it now. You didn’t look up from your phone as you mumbled about being married, shoving your ring in the direction of the person who was bothering you, before hearing the smug, soft chuckle you knew all too well, looking up, completely flustered.

“What a lucky guy, huh?” Satoru said with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip, eyes scanning you over. He looked mesmerized, almost entranced as you rolled your eyes, groaning as you started to get up to leave. You’d just survive the car ride home and be fine, like usual. But tears made your vision blur up as you let out a choked sob, falling into his chest. You didn’t care about getting makeup on his uniform, you just wanted to cry and yell at him. He was standing there, trying to joke with you, but all you wanted to do was scream about how ugly and unloved you felt.

You were too drunk to remember being softly led out of the club as you sobbed quietly, only sobering up enough to be coherent and sentient when your husband was siting on the sidewalk with you, having you gathered up in his arms while you let out your last soft sob of anger and desperation. He just sighed softly, pushing your hair out of your face to press a kiss to your forehead. You turned your head away, against your own will, to try and remain pissed at him. He had to suffer the consequences of his own shit actions. He rubbed shapes into your back for a couple minutes, before finally speaking up.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He started, looking into the pavement of the road to avoid your teary-eyed gaze, guilt evident on his face as he continued. “I’m just.. scared I’m going to be the reason you get hurt. And, and I know - don’t give me that.” He said with a stifled laugh as you flared at him, knowing you’d reassured him you didn’t care since the day your met him. “But it’s different now. With Itadori having consumed Sukuna’s finger, there’s… a possibility that he’ll properly manifest. And.. if that does end up happening, I’ll be one of the first in the line of fire. And that means using you as.. bait, kidnapping you for money, whatever I just…” his breath catches in his throat before he can continue. You lean into him closely, head on his chest. His heartbeat is audible through his chest, and he swallows thickly before he starts speaking again. It’s rare you see your husband in a vulnerable state like this.

“… I started having these.. awfully vivid dreams of you. In the position Suguru was, or.. even worse. I thought if I started being.. distant, or cold, you’d lose interest, even if it would break my heart and kill me from the inside out. If it meant you were safe.. I was ready to go through heartbreak again and again, I think.” He ends his sentence with his eyes locked on yours, and all you can do is sit in silence for a second, the ambience of the street outside the club being the only sound ringing in your ears. The bass of the music from the club, the cars driving past, people having small talk over cigarettes just a few feet away from you two.

Your next move is to grab him by the neck of his uniform and drag your husband’s stupid, self-sacrificing lips to yours in a kiss you had missed feeling every single day you were without it. He was hesitant at first, the alcohol on your tongue, the mixed emotions still swirling in his head - but it quickly turned to a the hunger that had made you fall in love with him in the first place, lips crashing messily against yours before you finally pulled back to speak, leaving him flustered as he looked down at you, his breathing a little unsteady.

“I knew the risk of being.. well, even just seen with you, since I first met you. And I wouldn’t have married you, not to mention.. dated you, or fallen in love with you, if I wasn’t accepting of those risks. I would die a thousand times over to whoever’s hands if it meant another day of waking up next to you.” The words fell from your mouth like word vomit, ramble and quick, barely audible sounds that he somehow managed to keep up with, even with your hiccup in-between the syllables. He just nodded softly, pulling you even more snug into him, resting his head on yours with a satisfied sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry you fell in love with me.” He mumbled finally, a genuinely, tired, apologetic tone as he spoke slowly, holding onto you like you could fall out of his grasp at any second.

“I’m not sorry I fell in love with you.” You said after another moment of pause. The warm, comforting feeling of being in your husbands arms filled your stomach, and you let your eyelids close, knowing that your husband would carry your sleepy body back to the car, or through hell and back, if he had to.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk

199 notes · View notes

joelscurls · 9 months

Text

a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here.

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking.

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head.

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss?

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through.

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him.

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement.

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what’s on the table,” Joel grumbles.

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance.

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.”

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul.

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think.

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.”

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food.

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him.

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him.

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out.

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from.

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera.

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?”

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes.

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive.

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate.

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles.

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench.

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present.

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

443 notes · View notes

milkteabinniechan · 2 months

Text

♡Blush and Blossom - Hwang Hyunjin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY membership/m.list

pairing: fwb! Hyunjin x gn! reader

summary: teasing hyunjin has always been your favorite hobby and secretly his too. But a crowded party could prove to be the push over the edge from playful to arousing.

warnings: masturbation, humiliation!!!, public sex, degradation

Hyunjin could feel the blood rushing to his face. Like, actually feel it. You teased him about the hair that fell in front of his face. You called him a pretty boy. That was your nickname for him. He knew you could see the way he blushed and you’d ask him if he liked it, if he wanted more. He would always snicker back that you didn’t affect him. His cheeks turning redder by the second.

The teasing had always been harmless fun. The two of you had been close since grade school and he trusted you more than anyone else. Slowly but surely your relationship eventually blossomed into more than just friendship. A drunken confession and a sloppy game of spin the bottle had been the catalyst for what was now a heated, intense, friends-with-benefits arrangement.

You’d never admit it, but Hyunjin ate you out better than anyone else ever had. And sucking his cock was always a full fucking mouthful that you eagerly enjoyed every time. The way his lips would press against your neck at the most perfect time and place, his hands sliding under your shirt easily and freely exploring every inch of skin. You loved every second, but you wanted more.

The teasing had never entered the bedroom, so to speak. It had always been a playful moment between two friends. But lately, Hyunjin had found himself hearing your teasing voice at rather intimate times. While jerking off one evening, he heard your voice taunting him- you like that pretty boy? Being a little pervert for me? Jerking your cock while your roommates are home, huh? What a nasty little pervert you are…-his breathing would become shaky and uneven at the thought of you taunting and teasing him. A strange mixture of adrenaline and embarrassment swirling together in the pit of his stomach. His hand stroked faster and faster at the embarrassing thought of being caught, of you calling him perverted. Until release would finally come pouring out of his sensitive tip and onto the floor.

You had invited him to a party a former roommate was having. A low-key little get together with just a few friends. The two of you had been so caught up with school that you hadn’t been able to spend any time together. So tonight was providing some much needed time together, even if it was with other people. Hyunjin’s face burned red as the two of you walked into the room. He recognized some people but not all. You held his hand firmly to reassure him that you were staying by his side all night. He had done the same for you in very similar situations with his own friends, so the two of you had an understanding, an unspoken agreement.

People gathered throughout the apartment, some in the living room and some in the kitchen near the keg. You said your greetings before the two of you found a cosy corner to stand together and talk.

“I missed you.” Hyunjin whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You let out a soft hum and nodded your head. You bit your lip to stop yourself from tearing all of his clothes off right there in the middle of the party. You looked to your left then your right to see if the coast was clear before grabbing Hyunjin’s hand and leading him to the bathroom. You quickly closed the door behind you and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Hyunjin’s body melted immediately into yours, pressing himself harder into you to deepen the kiss. You let out small whimpers and moans, your desperation and need soaking through your clothing. You slipped one hand down past Hyunjin’s waistband and grazed your fingers softly against his already growing cock.

“Wa-wait. We can’t.. Not here…” Hyunjin whimpered out against your mouth, his hips already moving into your hand.

You brought your mouth up to his ear and whispered roughly, “Awe, What’s the matter, pretty boy? You're afraid everyone is going to hear how badly you want me?”

Hyunjin’s cock twitched and jumped at your words. The sound shooting directly through to his core. You repositioned your hand so you had a firm yet gentle grasp on his length. You let your hand slide up and then back down the smooth skin of his shaft. Hyunjin whined softly as your hand moved, unable to control how his body was responding to your touch. His hips bucked and thrusted to meet your hand, desperate for more friction.

“You like that, pretty boy? You like that you come undone so easily for me?”

Hyunjin whimpered agreeably, his eyes fluttering half-lidded. He loved being your pretty boy. He loved the way you spoke to him.

“My pathetic pretty boy.” Your voice hoarse against the nape of his neck. Hyunjin could feel himself unraveling with every stroke of your hand.

“I am…I am your pathetic boy…” He moaned and whispered pitifully. He fell back slightly onto the bathroom counter behind him, trying woefully to brace himself as his release inched closer and closer.

“That's it… Let them hear you…”

With that final command, Hyunjin let go and released everything he was holding onto. His orgasm echoed off the walls of the bathroom as you slowed down the motion of your hand. Stroking from shaft to tip gradually, helping him ride out his high as the last drops of semen leaked from his swollen, red tip.

Hyunjin stood there shaking for a moment, his head fallen back, trying to catch his breath. You stood there across from him with a triumphal air about you. You smiled victoriously as Hyunjin steadied his breathing and locked eyes with you, a similar smile reflecting on his face. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before whispering one last pretty boy into his ear.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore

#stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz series #hyunjin x you #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz imagines #skz

361 notes · View notes