#rather hurts but I can’t feel anything when I poke around

[solarmorrigan]

“You know, you’d probably be more comfortable in bed.”

Steve groans. Quietly.

“I’m gonna take that noise to mean, ‘Yes, Eddie, you’re so right, I should take my sick ass to bed!’, to which I am going to say, ‘Thank you, Steve for acknowledging how right I am.’”

If Eddie’s plan is to irritate Steve until he manages to get up off the couch and shamble himself to their bedroom, he’s on the right track.

But the thing is, Eddie is right (unfortunately) – Steve knows he’d be more comfortable in bed. The couch is too short and the cushions are too worn and the seats are just a little too narrow for him to really relax. But at the same time, the flu is trying to murder him, and he’s got a fever, and everything aches, and he doesn’t want to move.

Rather than explaining any of this to Eddie through his sore throat, Steve instead grumbles, “Your impression of me sucks.”

“Well, I’ll work on that while you’re resting,” Eddie drawls.

Steve manages a faintly agreeable-sounding noise and then pulls a throw pillow over his face.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t move.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again.

Steve is still not compelled to move.

“Steeeve. Come on.” Eddie reaches out to poke Steve in the side, who belatedly raises a hand to swat him away.

“Don’t wanna move,” Steve mumbles.

“You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again,” Eddie says.

“Mph,” Steve replies.

He hates being sick – really sick, the kind that his body just won’t tolerate pushing through. If he can’t pretend to be well, he feels he has no other recourse but to be dramatic.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie offers. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie declares, and Steve has just enough time to pull the pillow off his face and look up before Eddie is scooping him up off the couch.

“What the fuck!” Steve shouts, arms locking almost instinctively around Eddie’s neck as Eddie gets one arm settled beneath the crook of his knees and the other around his back.

“Relax, we’ll have you in bed in no time,” Eddie says, swinging around to face the living room door with a grunt and trundling forward.

“You’re gonna drop me,” Steve says, winding his arms more tightly around Eddie’s neck; he’s pretty sure no one has picked him up or carried him anywhere since he was maybe eight years old.

“Ye of little faith,” Eddie replies, only slightly strained.

“Me of exactly the right amount of faith, which isn’t a whole damn lot, no,” Steve insists, ducking forward when Eddie lists a little too close to one of the hallway walls.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

They reach the bedroom door and, as he’d promised, Eddie doesn’t drop Steve.

He does, however, whack Steve’s head on the doorjamb.

And then he drops Steve.

It doesn’t end up being much of a fall; Eddie only loses his hold on Steve’s legs, and with Steve’s death grip around Eddie’s neck, he mostly just lands awkwardly on his feet before tumbling down onto his ass with a thud and a quiet, “Ow.”

Eddie is on his knees beside him in an instant. “Holy shit, I hit your head.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. My head was the one part of me that didn’t hurt,” Steve grumbles, rubbing behind his ear, where his skull had connected with the doorframe.

“Oh my god, I hit your head,” Eddie says again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, we established that. Did you hit your head, too, or–”

“Shit, shit, are you dizzy? Is your vision blurry? Wait, fuck, you’re not wearing your contacts – are things blurrier than normal?” Eddie places his hands on either side of Steve’s face and stares into his eyes, as if he’ll be able to tell that way if Steve’s brain has finally been knocked loose. “Do you feel anything, like, swelling? Bleeding? Leaking?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t feel that sort of thing happening,” Steve says, and Eddie’s face crumples.

“Shit, you’re right, I should take you to the doctor,” Eddie declares, moving to stand up.

Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. “Eddie, I’m fine.”

“No, your brain could be leaking or some shit, and you’re gonna have, like, an aneurism, and you’re gonna die, and it’s going to be all my fault because I hit your head and I killed you,” Eddie rambles, shaking his own head.

Steve isn’t sure if any of that is even correct, but he’s willing to bet Robin has been sharing her worries about Steve’s head trauma with Eddie. “That’s not–”

“Your head is the one part of you we really can’t afford to hit!”

“As opposed to the rest of me?” Steve asks, one eyebrow raised.

“If it comes down to it, yeah!” Eddie bursts out. “Do you even know how many times you’ve hit your head?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you’re afraid I don’t remember?” Steve asks drily. “Because you weren’t even there for most of those times, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Eddie says, and he’s definitely trying to sound stern, but he’s verging a little bit on whiny; he seems like he’s starting to calm down, since Steve has so far failed to collapse and die.

“Okay, then, seriously, Eddie – I’m fine,” Steve promises. “You didn’t even hit me that hard, it barely hurts.”

“Steve, I love you, but you have a severely skewed sense of pain and should not be trusted to rate it on your own,” Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here,” he grabs one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it around to where his head had hit the jamb, “feel. Are there any bumps? Cuts? Anything seem out of place?”

With a frown of deep concentration, Eddie runs his fingers gently from the top of Steve’s skull to the base, occasionally pressing a little harder, but never hard enough to hurt.

“Good?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s had a minute to feel for himself.

Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I guess.”

“Ah, don’t be disappointed. Maybe it’ll be a concussion next time,” Steve offers.

Eddie shoots him a wildly unimpressed glare. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve decides, but he takes Eddie’s hand from his head and brings it around to press a kiss to the back of it.

There’s definitely a smile ticking at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t point it out.

“Do you want some ice, or something?” Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“What I want is to walk over to the bed and lie down, and I want you to come with me,” Steve says. “And in an hour, I want you to bring me more Tylenol and some of that really good tea that Joyce sent over. Deal?”

This time, Eddie does smile. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

They get themselves situated, Eddie at Steve’s back with an arm slung over him, a single blanket pulled up to their waists (“Pretty sure you still have a fever, sweetheart,” Eddie had insisted. “You’re gonna cook yourself to death if you cover up.”), and in the dim, sleepy light filtering through their curtains, Steve presses back further into Eddie’s chest.

“I like that you care so much,” he says quietly, and Eddie squeezes him a little more tightly.

He shifts enough that he can press his lips to the spot where Steve had bumped his head. “Always will,” he murmurs, and hell if Steve doesn’t believe him.

[Prompt: Bridal carries]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #pretty sure steve's method is not medically approved for testing for head trauma but he's fine #solar wrote

[l3viat8an]

Out of the demon brothers who’s most likely to take playfighting super seriously and who treats it more like a game? or maybe a little sexy ;)

I know I’ve talked about play fighting with the boys before but that was more rambling so I tried to make hcs this time!!

Little bit suggestive in a couple of parts but mostly silly hcs!

Lucifer knows his strength and he’d hate to accidentally hurt you (again) he’s the oldest too so he kinda thinks it’s beneath him 🙄 If it’s more his attention you’re after he’d rather just give you kisses.

That being said; if you can get Lucifer in a really good mood he’ll just chuckle, raising an eyebrow while watching you try to hit his chest. Not like you can actually hurt him- You’ll probably get bored quick and it’s only then that Lucifer moves. Grabbing your waist so he can turn you around and slap your ass- if you say anything he’ll just play it off, saying it’s how he wants to play~

Mammon oh you wanna fight?? Then get ready to fight!! he take it soooo seriously and it’s a good excuse to manhandle you just a little bit!!-

Mammon doesn’t work out for nothing ‘n of course he likes to show off for you! He carries you to your bed and even throws you around a little, laughing the whole time!

He’s fully convinced he’s in a wrestling match and even yells some silly slogan he just made up. Of course he still pays attention to every little thing you do, he’d never forgive himself if he actually hurt you while messing around.

Levi doesn’t really play fight- and if you hit him, he thinks you hate him- he’s more into tickle fights where you’re rolling around tangled up together and laughing!!

Tho there is a chance he’ll randomly bite you, it’s like cuteness aggression takes over and seeing skin = bite you in his head!!! ‘n this could absolutely happen mid tickle-fight!! You’ll feel his teeth nip at your neck / arm / shoulder / wherever he can reach, really. He just likes to bites you. you make him happy? He bites you. It’s simple really. Any excuse is a good excuse to cover you in his bite marks.

Satan also takes it way too seriously- he doesn’t want to hurt you! And he doesn’t really have a good reason for why he takes it so seriously….he just likes to play-fight with you.

You couldn’t beat him in a real fight anyways- but like this he can pretend and let you ‘beat him’ !!There’s also something really hot about the way you pin him to the floor, and smirk down at him while triumphantly shouting “I win.” in that moment all he wants to do is sit up and kiss you-

Asmo the first time he almost cries that you absolutely can’t hit his face!!

But after that he’s a little intrigued, and he can’t lie it is fun to toss you around a bit- ‘n more often then not it’ll turn into something a little hotter~

he’ll looks at you with a little smirk on his face and let you throw a punch or two at him. But before your blows can land you’ll hear Asmo’s little giggle as he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands up to his face and kissing each of your fingers before pulling you into a hug, whispering that if you really want to fight……you’ll have to fight naked~

Beel There’s no way either of them will fight back- even if it’s for a joke he’s too afraid he could to hurt unintentionally.

Beel is too big and worried about his size. He thinks whenever he’s touching you, it should be to make you feel good or make you feel safe. Not to play-fight, but if he ever did try it he’ll probably just kinda poke your cheek or just hold his firsts up while he lets you try and hit him. Don’t worry, your firsts feel more like taps to him.

Belphie loves to tease you, joking that ‘there’s just no way your little human punches would hurt him.’

But he’ll still let you try, his favorite part is when you do hit him and he lets out an involuntary ‘oof’ the huge, goofy, grin on your face almost makes him want to smile too-

He’ll get you back tho!- Belphie will full on tackle you as he starts to tickle you until you have to beg him to stop. But he just laughs tickling you a little longer.

#feels like I still ended up rambling 🧍🏼‍♀️ #oh well I still had fun typing these out sooo yea!- #obey me! #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me #om! #obmswd #obey me suggestive #roro writes #anon! #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #om! shall we date #om! headcanons #om! hcs

[magiccath]

Psychic paper

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the psychic paper betrays the Doctor

A/N: The Doctor is fruity, deal with it xx

You’d been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and you loved every minute of it. In that time he had shown you all kinds of things you had priorly deemed impossible; aliens with wiggly tentacles, a spaceship that defies the laws of 3 dimensional space, a buzzing device he calls the Sonic Screwdriver, and homicidal salt shakers with toilet plungers for arms to name just a few. 

It seemed that with every adventure he showed you something new and fascinating, constantly topping himself without even trying. There was so much in all of time and space it wasn’t that hard. Anything outside of the 21st century was new to you. 

This time, the Doctor had taken you to see a mechanics factory in the 35th century, but as always the adventure didn’t end there. Aside from new experiences, the Doctor could almost always promise some kind of trouble. He claimed he didn’t go searching for it but rather that it tended to follow him. Either way, most adventures with the Doctor involved some kind of mischief and usually a lot of running.

“It’s no good, you can only get in with an ID,” you groaned, popping your head back around the corner. “There’s a security guard checking everyone going in and out is an employee.” 

You were hiding in a hallway, hoping to get inside the establishment's headquarters. The Doctor had a hunch that malicious alien forces were behind the operation, but he couldn’t be sure without poking around further. Typical Doctor, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“I can’t think of any legal ways to get in there,” you shrugged, turning to the Doctor for ideas. 

“I have identification,” the Doctor smirked, rummaging around in the seemingly endless pockets of his coat. 

“You’re not an employee,” you pointed out. 

The Doctor made a triumphant sound as he pulled what appeared to be a small black notebook out of the depths of his pocket. He flipped it open and you realized it wasn’t a notepad. The item was more like a police badge, minus the actual badge part.

He turned the paper towards you with a smile, clearly expecting you to be impressed 

“Aren’t I?” He grinned brightly, looking at you eagerly. “Psychic paper,” he explained, tapping the stark white paper with his finger.

You grabbed the item from him, squinting at it. You wanted to make sure you were reading it right, maybe your eyes were acting up. 

“This just says ‘I love you’?” You asked, handing the Doctor his weird paper back with a frown. 

“I think that flirting with the security guard is more of a Jack move,” you winced, not wanting to hurt his feelings. The Doctor was quite the charmer, but strategic flirting wasn’t his strong suit.

The Doctor grabbed his psychic paper from you, frowning at it aggressively. It wasn’t supposed to say that. 

“What-?” he asked, glaring at it the same way you did. Once the words registered with him he turned a dark shade of red. He should have been more careful when he handed it over to you.

“It’s not supposed to say that,” he mumbled his thoughts, trying to hide his fluster. 

“How does it work? Is it like a reusable notepad?” You asked, genuinely interested. Even if the Doctor’s tools could be finicky, they were interesting. Maybe he had just forgotten to erase the message from the last time he used it. 

“No, it’s supposed to show the reader what I want them to see,” he blushed, shaking the paper out like a Polaroid. Usually shaking the item would clear it, but those three words refused to fade from the paper. 

“Sometimes it’s a bit slow…” he said, really more to himself than to you. He was still shaking the paper, desperately trying to get the words to disappear. 

“So you were going to try and flirt with the security guard?” You frowned, now you were even more confused. The Doctor would much rather blow the whole place up than try and flirt his way through security. 

“No!” He said, almost a bit too quickly. He blushed again and averted his gaze, an anxious hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t planned on telling you like this. He hadn’t planned on telling you at all.

“When I handed it over it was supposed to show you an employee ID,” he winced. You nodded, this much you knew. What you didn’t understand was the confession of love. 

“But I think the psychic paper picked up on my feelings instead,” he whispered. If you hadn’t been listening intently you might have missed the last few words. 

“Are you saying that you love me?” You frowned, looking at the floor with concentration, “or the security guard?” The second option seemed more viable at the moment.

For the first time in a century, the Doctor was speechless. He stared at you, wide-eyed and unblinking as you waited for his answer. If it was possible, his jaw might have fallen to the floor.

“He’s pretty handsome, I can’t blame you,” you added, peeking over the wall to look at the security guard again.

The Doctor shook himself out of it, rambling a string of incoherent words. “I- uh, wha-?” He stumbled, trying to form a sentence.

“I handed the paper to you.” He said definitively.

“It’s a really dramatic way to come out, Doctor.” You continued on, ignoring him. It’s not like you didn’t know already, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“It didn’t say ‘I love men’!” He threw his hands up in distress. “It said ‘I love you’!”

You finally stopped rambling on about the security guard and turned your attention to the Doctor. His words caught up to you and tentatively you pointed at yourself as if there was any other you. The Doctor nodded exasperatedly as if to say “Yes, you!”

“You love me?” you asked, still pointing at yourself. 

“I think I’ve said it about four times now.” 

“You?” You pointed at the Doctor, “Love me?” 

“Blimey! Yes!” He shouted, frustrated now. You widened your eyes and anxiously checked around you, scared he might have given away your location. Thankfully, everyone appeared to be out of earshot. 

“Yes, I love you,” he whispered this time, his eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, your brain still refusing to process his confession. 

You smiled brightly, your grin taking over your entire face. The Doctor loved it when you lit up like this, your happiness radiating off of you. He felt a small smile of his own tugging at his lips just looking at you. 

“I hope that’s alright,” he whispered quietly. He would never forgive himself if he lost you over a psychic paper mishap. The embarrassment would be too much - he’d have to run away. Maybe to that planet inhabited by only rubber ducks? 

“That’s more than alright,” you grinned, a hand instinctively reaching up to his arm to comfort him. The fabric of his coat was cold against your palm, but you didn’t pull away.

The Doctor really smiled back at you now, the wild lopsided grin that was reserved just for you. The kind of smile that always made you laugh with joy. 

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting your body off the ground in excitement. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. You laughed happily, waving your feet about slightly. 

The Doctor pulled back just enough to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. Neither of you could stop smiling, even as your lips met. You laughed against him, planting kisses across his face sloppily. Your lips brushed the tip of his nose, the arch of his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, and his jawline.

“The security guard is pretty cute though,” the Doctor teased with a sly smile. 

“I knew it!” You burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you did.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #david tennant #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #the doctor x reader #the doctor/reader #the doctor #psychic paper #doctor who bbc

[saetoshi]

itoshi sae does not exaggerate. he finds the whole idea of making a big deal out of nothing to be repulsive.

still, he swears that he feels physically ill whenever you’re not around.

(it’s the first reason of many he’ll ever give you when you tell him you have to leave for more than a day.)

“my head hurts.”

you don’t even look at him.

he frowns, “my head hurts a lot.”

“that’s too bad,” you say absentmindedly, “you should take some medicine for that.”

“i already did.” (he did not.) “it didn’t do anything.” (because he doesn’t need it.)

his frowns deepens when he notices you’re still focused on packing your things in a duffel bag. (his duffel bag. the one he was sure he’d hidden from you. the one you weren’t supposed to find.)

he calls out your name. his expression softens when you look at him.

“my stomach hurts.”

his lips quirk up just a tiny bit when you give him an annoyed look.

“sae.”

“my stomach really hurts.” he whines, slumping against the bed. a smile spreads through his lips when you cross your arms.

“you should take some medicine for that,” you frown, “even if you are sick, i have to go to this field trip.”

he takes out one of your shirts from the duffel bag, “says who?”

“my teacher.” you pry it off his hands, “my grade.”

you stick your tongue out at him, stuffing your shirt back into the bag, “my conscience.”

“but you’ll be gone for too long,” he sighs dramatically.

“it’s literally just two days.” you deadpan.

“like i said,” he pouts, “too long.”

you sigh, moving to sit down on the bed, “i’ll bring you a souvenir.”

a smile tugs at your lips when he perks up. you reach out to run your hand through his hair.

sae leans into your touch, “i’d rather have you stay than have a stupid souvenir.”

you hum, “wanna know a secret?”

he nods, curiosity swimming in his eyes. a small smile blooms on his lips.

“i kinda really don’t wanna go.” you mumble.

“just stay, then.” he tugs you closer to him.

you sigh, slumping against him. “i can’t. it’s worth a chunk of my grade.”

sae frowns, flicking your forehead, “just say you had a family emergency.”

“i said that last time.” you click your tongue. “i don’t think my teacher would believe that again.”

an amused laugh leaves his lips. “say you’re sick, then.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you tease, “besides i may or may not have already told my teacher i’d go.”

sae sits up, a look of disbelief on his face, “you what?”

“i already said i’d go,” you sheepishly smile at him.

sae flops back onto the bed, brows furrowed and pouting, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you would’ve insisted you were sick to stop me from going,” you lean over him. “like you were doing a while ago.”

he looks away from you, flushing. “i don’t know what you mean.”

you smile, poking his nose, “i’m sure you don’t.”

he bites back a smile when you press a quick peck on his cheek.

“but if you were feeling sick, i know you’d go take some medicine instead of exaggerating just to get me to stay.”

he pouts. your smile widens. he tugs you down towards him, “you suck.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you laugh.

you lay on his chest for a while, sae’s arms snug around you. he rests his cheek on top of your head.

“do you really have to go?”

“‘m afraid so,” you sigh, nuzzling into him. “i promise i’ll text you whenever i can.”

“you better,” he smiles, “you also have to call me.”

“i promise i will.” you laugh.

you squeak when he squeezes you, laughter leaving his lips.

“sae.” you mumble.

“yeah?”

you lift yourself off his chest, looking at him. “i have to finish packing.”

he groans, “finish later. you should nap with me instead.”

you playfully stick your tongue out at him. “you and i both know if i take a nap with you i’m never going to finish packing.”

he shrugs, sighing, “it was worth a shot.”

you sit up, brows raising in surprise when sae sits up after you.

“just because i’m not gonna nap doesn’t mean you can’t,” you tilt your head to the side.

sae stretches his arms up, yawning, “if i help you pack, you’ll take a nap with me sooner.”

he gingerly cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss. he hums against your lips.

“besides,” he pulls away, smiling, “if i help you pack, you’ll have to bring me back a souvenir as a reward.”

you laugh, “if you say so.”

sae’s not much help with packing. he just unceremoniously stuffs your remaining clothes into the duffel bag, scoffing when you tell him he’s doing it wrong.

(still, you bring him back a souvenir when you come home from your trip. as a way to both thank him for helping you pack, and as an apology because you’ll have to go on another trip soon.)

#SILLY SAE !!!!!!! #he means everything to me (shamefully) #i thought i was gonna take a sae break after that long fic #apparently i was very wrong . #bllk x reader #sae x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #blue lock fluff #blue lock sae #bllk sae #sae x y/n #sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you

[leighsartworks216]

Designated Lockpicker

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Inspired by this post

Saw this and I HAD to write something about it. It only took me until 11:45 to finish it but it's okay I'll suffer the consequences

Warnings: one swear word, reference to Astarion's past abuse, mention of a terrible texture, innuendos

Word Count: 1,219

Masterlist

AO3

You poke your head into the room. Dust motes float through the air, which reeks with musk and mold. You'd probably cover your nose and seek fresh air if this wasn't the millionth time you’d smelled it.

Your eyes scan along the walls, floor and shelves, searching for anything interesting. Food would be nice - Gale wouldn’t stop pestering you for ingredients to cook with. Bandages wouldn’t hurt either if it would ease Shadowheart’s workload every time you got into a minor scrape.

The room was rather sparse, but it looked like it may have been a study at some point. Books were scattered everywhere, chairs were tipped on their sides or had broken legs, a desk was angled oddly for its placement. Whoever lived here before, they must have left in a hurry. Which was excellent news. Maybe they left something behind.

From the other rooms of the building, you can hear your companions’ muffled voices. You can only make out one or two words as they speak. Karlach seemed to be talking to Astarion; Wyll and Gale were going back and forth further away. You couldn’t hear Shadowheart or Lae’zel, but this didn’t surprise you.

The floorboards creak and groan as you step into the study. Stray beams of light keep the gloom away, for the most part. You can almost imagine how lovely it once was.

You go to take a book off the shelf, but immediately draw your hand back when the binding squishes at the slightest pressure. You scowl in disgust and wipe your hand on your pants to remove the gross sensation. Unfortunately, your more learned companions would not be getting any new reading materials today.

Against the far wall, stationed behind the desk, was a dresser with a glass case on top. All the case had was scrolls, damp and turning green. Any information they may have held was gone.

You grab the handles of each drawer in turn, sliding open the dresser to reveal its contents. A vial of ink here, another useless scroll there - nothing exciting. Until you open the bottom drawer.

Poorly hidden under some loose paper was a chest. It appeared to be made of metal, hardly rusted despite its surroundings. For its size, you were shocked how heavy it was when you lifted it out and set it on the desk just behind you. The lock didn’t look too complicated. You had some spare lockpicks in your pack, you could easily grab one and get it open. You could.

Instead, you leave the chest where it is and step into the hall. You try to listen for your friends, again, but they seem to have done deeper within the establishment. So you do the next best thing: “Astarion?”

The shout travels down the building, and from one of the rooms pops out the vampire spawn. He seemed confused why you’d be calling him of all people. But the confusion is quickly masked with suave confidence as he sauntered down the hall to you. “Yes, dear?”

You smile sweetly at him. “I found a locked chest. Could you help me open it? Please?”

He smirks and taps a finger under your chin, getting you to tilt your head upward with just one motion. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He follows you back into the room. His nose scrunches with the smell of rotting books, but the look is gone as soon as he sees the chest. You round the desk and turn it around toward him. He can’t stop his smile as you rest your arms and chin on top, still fixing him with that darling look.

This had become a habit, to his mind, anyway. For you, this was an enrichment of sorts to provide Astarion with a sense of purpose. Late night talks had made it abundantly clear just how much he loved feeling useful. For two centuries he was used, his autonomy stolen from him for the sake of his master. But little tasks like this did not feel like an imbalance in power. He would open whatever lock you wished for the praise you showered on him alone, but you also ensured he got his pick of whatever was inside. He was being rewarded for his services, something that never happened before - nothing good, anyway - and you loved giving him his moment to shine.

He just assumed you couldn’t pick a lot to save your damn life.

“I’m beginning to think you just like watching me,” he teased. He produced a pick from his pocket and began working away at the lock. “Trying to learn my trade secrets, are we?"

You hummed, looking down at his hands as they moved together fluidly. He could do this in his sleep. “Never. I just love watching you work, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Really now?” He lifts his attention from the lock to look at you, hands pausing in their ministrations. “And what is it about my work that you enjoy so much?”

You meet his gaze. He can only describe the look you give him as fond. Love seems to rest in your irises, gleaming back at him, on display for the whole world to see. “Your hands,” you answer, and while it was supposed to be part of your playful banter, you say it so genuinely. “You’re always so precise, like you just know exactly what needs to be done before you even start. It reminds me of your embroidery.”

“And here I thought it was for more depraved reasons.” It’s a deflection. He still isn’t used to being seen like this. Seen by you. He still thinks of the way you describe how his hair curls around his ears, and how his face wrinkles when he laughs. “I’m always happy to give you a hands-on lesson, my sweet. Just say the word.”

“And if I ask for you to teach me how to embroider?”

His devious smirk relaxed into a soft grin. He nods. “It would be my honor.”

Silence takes over as he returns to his work. It’s warm and welcoming, despite your surroundings. Basking in the quiet felt easy around him. He could be reading a book, and you’d slot yourself right next to him, and never was there an expectation for him to stop to entertain you. You just wanted to be around him. It meant more to him than you could ever know.

With a final turn of the pick, a faint click comes from the chest. He seems to puff up with the success, like an all-too-proud bird. He slips the pick back in his pocket and steps back as you round the desk. Instead of going straight for the chest, you cup his cheek in one hand and press a kiss to the other. His cheeks would be positively flushed if he had the blood for it.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper against his skin, pressing another kiss to his cheek right after. He leans into the heat of your hand.

“It was my pleasure, darling.”

You pull away with a grin that could put the sun to shame. You turn to open the chest, eager to know what hides behind those metal walls, and he cannot stop admiring how perfectly a stray beam of light hits your skin.

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #pov second person #second person pov

[missmeinyourbones]

cw: JJK MANGA SPOILERS!!!! read at your own risk!!!!! megumi and gojo centric, sad sad sad i am so sad 

“He’s just a kid.”

Satoru’s tone is one you’ve never heard from him. Quiet, strained, barely a whisper against the howling wind from outside. He's never not spoken with conviction; never had a voice that cracks with uncertainty. You hate it. 

“I know.”

He’s quick to clarify, “I mean, they all are. But he—”

He loses his train of thought—or rather, he’s not strong enough to finish it. To say it out loud in fear of it taking on a greater form. He decides on shaking his head and returning his voice to a whisper as he insists. 

“It’s different.”

“I know,” you repeat. Your hand holds his far too tight when you solemnly clarify, “he’s different.” 

“He—” a sniffle disguised as an inhale interrupts, “I taught him how to ride a bike.”

His words somehow sew the stitches of your broken heart back together before ripping them open once more. Bittersweet imagery swallows you whole. 

The thought of a tiny stubborn Megumi wrestling with something as minuscule as training wheels—what would then seem like the biggest obstacle he’d ever face. The cruel irony weighs heavy on your tongue. 

His barely four-foot stature somehow intimidating a lanky teenage Satoru. 

Satoru—not yet an adult but still volunteering any missed remnant of his own childhood in exchange for the right thing, he holds onto the back of Megumi’s bicycle seat for about thirty seconds before Megumi shoves him off and insists he can do it himself. 

In the silence of your home, Satoru sees it too—remembers it like it was yesterday. And what he, at the time, thought was the scariest thing that could've ever happened to him floods his mind, is now something he yearns to go back for. To do it all again, the exact same way, just to sit in the moment for a bit longer.

“Lil’ asshole learned so fast, I barely got to teach him anything,” he scoffs behind wet eyes, “but still.” 

You let out a snotty laugh, and it lifts the troublesome boulder on Satoru’s shoulder for a moment. A millisecond, maybe, but he’s grateful for it all the same. 

“And all the times he threw up in the middle of the night and I—”

His own sob cuts his words short.

More imagery floods your mind. This time, a shaky and clammy Megumi standing by the bedside of a sleeping Satoru. With unsteady hands and a burning forehead, he pokes and prods the guardian behind watering eyes. 

Satoru tastes bile as he remembers heating up alphabet soup on the stove at the crack of dawn. How Megumi would wait at the table, head in hands and blanket wrapped loosely around his tiny frame. Short legs swinging from the chair, yet to be long enough to reach the tiled ground. 

He wants to go back, wants to ruffle his hair and wipe his snot one last time. Wants to watch him grow like a weed and nearly surpass his own gigantic height. Wants to teach him all he can and not send him on that wild goose hunt for a finger that leads them here—separated and cursing their own decisions.

The world feels like it stops turning when Satoru barely speaks up, “He’s supposed to be my best man.”

Your blurry eyes can barely make out the silver band decorating his ring finger that matches the diamond on yours. One that’s supposed to promise you a lifetime of happiness, but right now serves as a reminder that nothing is promised. Nothing can be guaranteed in the world of Gojo Satoru. 

Still, you try to smile for him. “He will be,” you nod. 

But Satoru shakes his head. “Baby, we need to think realistically about all of—”

“We know nothing, Satoru.”

“We know enough.”

His tone is harsh, like a blade on glass, it scratches to leave a mark. It cuts you deep, even when it shouldn't because you know he isn't angry with you. But Megumi is not here and Gojo can’t think straight knowing he could’ve done something to change the pattern. 

With a deep breath, he catches the flash of hurt in your eye. 

Hands instantly wrapping around your frame, more so for himself and not for you, he shakes against your body. “M’sorry, sorry.” 

His nose tickles your neck as he hiccups. 

“I just…” he tries his best to say something, anything, to explain even an ounce of what he’s feeling. But nothing does it justice, so he decides on a simple whimper. 

“He’s everything.” 

And just like that, the water overflows, and all Satoru couldn’t say is on the table with a mere two words. He’s everything—a son not his, a brother too young, a bond more vital than the lack of blood that runs behind it. 

Megumi is everything, and he’s not here. 

You pull Satoru’s face from the crook of your neck and hold it in your hands as if it’s glass. It is, you try to remind yourself. 

You force him to look at you, to feel your determination when you speak with fire, “We’re gonna be fine.” 

Broken beyond repair, Satoru merely nods—but he knows the truth. 

He’s seen this play out before, his own history repeating itself, taunting him right before his six eyes. Too powerful in every way but the one that matters, Gojo Satoru is always too late.

Satoru knows both he and Megumi will not walk out of this alive. Only one, if either, is lucky enough to break the pattern. 

What he doesn't tell your pleading eyes and hopeful heart, is that he hopes it's Megumi. For the sake of all things good, please let it be Megumi who returns home to you.

#jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo fic #gojo satoru fic #megumi angst #fushigojo

[icyminghao]

asking seventeen what they would do if you became a cockroach — maknae line ver.

pairing: seventeen (maknae line) x gn!reader genre: idk what this is honestly

inspired by going seventeen ep. 79: going vol. 2 #1

hyung line ver.

MINGHAO

will judge you

thinks its funny when he imagines it actually happening

will tease you a bit before answering

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Minghao looks away from the book he’s reading to narrow his eyes at you. “Where is this coming from?”

“Just answer, Hao!” you whine, taking the book from his hands and setting it down on the coffee table after bookmarking the page he stopped at. Minghao smiles wryly.

“It depends. If you could hold a teacup and drink from it, I’ll keep you. Anything else and you’d be surviving on the streets by yourself, sorry.” Minghao answers in mock seriousness, and you pout.

“You’re so mean. When are you going back to meditating?”

MINGYU

literally cannot fathom the idea of you becoming a cockroach

it’s impossible, yes, but he literally doesn’t want you to become one

practically begs you not to, much to your confusion and amusement

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you raise your head from its spot on Mingyu’s shoulder, gauging his reaction.

“Please don’t become a cockroach,” he practically begs, as if it were possible for you to even become one.

“Mingu,” you giggle, rubbing his arm affectionately, “how the hell would I become a cockroach? I was just asking hypothetically.”

“Exactly, you won’t become a cockroach! So please don’t, you know I’m scared of them,” Mingyu whines like he isn’t at least ten times bigger than the little pest he’s talking about.

You smile in endearment. “Okay, baby, I won’t.”

SEOKMIN

he is terrified, to say the least

would rather die than entertain the idea of you actually becoming a cockroach, but is afraid of hurting you with the truth

goes for the next best thing, which is to evade your question 💀

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you look up at Seokmin from your resting position on his chest. You feel Seokmin stiffen.

“A… cockroach?” he replies, his voice a pitch higher than usual. You stifle a giggle.

“Yes, Minnie, a cockroach. Will you still let me lie on you like this,” you trace a finger on his chest to mimic a cockroach’s movements, slowly inching your way up to poke his cheek, “let me kiss y-”

Seokmin jolts in fear, letting out a scream. “Baby, you know I can’t stand cockroaches!”

“Even if it’s me?” you tease.

“You know I love you, right?”

SEUNGKWAN

is side-eyeing you for the entire duration of this conversation

he saw this trend on twitter ages ago

would probably turn the question around so you’re telling him what you would do if he became a cockroach instead

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Seungkwan huffs in amusement, looking away from his phone to raise his eyebrows at you. “What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

You purse your lips together, having not expected him to turn the question around. Seungkwan sees you light up suddenly, as you move to sit beside him.

“We could be cockroaches together,” you giggle, “we would start a trend, become cockroach influencers, you’ll be such a icon!”

Seungkwan lets out a breathy chuckle. You’re his partner, all right.

VERNON

he’d literally be so confused bc that’s not possible??

you try to tell him that it’s just a hypothetical situation but he’s stuck questioning the realism of everything

nice try but he’s just way too clueless… better luck next time

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Hansol furrows his brows together at your words, shooting you a very confused look. “Why would you become a cockroach?”

“I meant it hypothetically,” you whine, shaking his left arm. Hansol doesn’t seem convinced.

“How would you hypothetically become a cockroach? That doesn’t make sense, you’re a human.” Hansol raises an eyebrow, not understanding.

You sigh.

CHAN

poor baby probably thinks it’s one of those boyfriend tests

panicks a little before trying to formulate the textbook boyfriend answer (until you reassure him that you’re just being goofy and had no hidden intentions)

sweeps you off your feet with his answer nonetheless

“Chan, what would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Chan’s eyes widen as he scrambles to think on his feet. “Well, um…”

You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he spirals.

“Chan!” you grab his hand to ground him. “I was asking for fun, silly.”

Chan releases a breath, leaning into you. “Oh.

Well, I’m afraid of cockroaches, but I guess I could try if it was you.”

a/n: i apologise to anyone out there with a phobia of those dreaded creatures (me) but i watched han and jihoon’s interaction in gose and just couldn’t help myself 😭

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua

masterlist

#ICY WRITES #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #svt x reader #svt fluff #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao imagines #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom imagines #seokmin x reader #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagines #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #hansol x reader #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines

[fayesia]

haii >_< i just finished future man and i NEED an angry josh smut, any plot— doesnt matter, just a GOOD angst fuck!

a/n: Hello everyone!!! Just wanted to wish you all a happy new years✰. Lots more works to be written and posted in 2024. Thank you to everyone for all the support i’ve gotten after a few months of having this account and i can’t wait for you all to read and support my future works so thank u all again i love each and every one of you for the kindness and love i receive. Wishing you all the best for this year. ★Faye★

warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, pussy licking (josh is a munch), breast play?, rough sex, lmk if i missed anything!

Josh continuing button mashing away at his controller, you laid across his bed bored out of your mind with your head hanging off the edge watching him play. His focus fully set on the screen in front of him as he once again got beaten by the game.

A heavy sigh of annoyance came from his mouth, followed by a deep loud groan that left you rubbing your thighs together.

“Joshhh I’m bored, let’s do something fun”

“not right now ok, i’m not in the mood”

“pleaseeeee please please”

you whined again and again and in all fairness he had been playing for three hours straight, not even your phone could keep your attention as long as his game did.

Josh was like a bear and you were a human prodding him with a stick, the more you opened your mouth the more angry josh got. Until he finally had enough…a bear can only take so many pokes until it attacks.

Which is what he did, abruptly getting up from his gaming chair “you wanna have fun? fine let’s have fun” Josh took two strides towards his bed, halting in front of your head as you looked up at him. Paying close attention to his eyes roaming your body, coming to a quick halt at your thighs tightly crossed over one another. His once frowning mouth upturned into a slight smirk.

“so you want that kind of fun huh”

Leaning down over you Josh grabbed your face pulling you into a passionate kiss, his lips moulded perfectly with yours softly nipping your bottom one when pulling away. You brightly smiled up at him, pawing at the sides of his hips. “alright alright give me a second”

Unbuckling his belt he pulled down his pants along with his boxers, tugging up and down at his dick with his head titled back up to the ceiling, letting out another deep groan. He grabbed onto your chin, his fingers moved towards your lips entering your mouth as you stared up at him. Soon after Josh pushed his dick into your mouth, not even waiting for you to work your way around him but rather shoving himself in and out, his rage blocking that caring side of him.

Spit gathered around the sides of your mouth, a shiny layer coating his dick, the head of it rubbing against the back of your throat the deeper he forced his cock. The noises of Josh face fucking you along with his moans reverberated off the walls and the both of you were thankful that his parents had gone out for a date.

You felt your wetness pool in your panties and you could feel it between your thighs, Josh pulled up your shirt grabbing onto your breasts through your bra, the half lace cups barely surviving his aggressiveness revealing your breast in all their glory to him. He marvelled at the sight as it only spurred him to thrust harder into your mouth, tears were pouring down your face but you weren’t even in pain or hurt, rather you were so needy to have him inside of you.

His hips stuttered and he pulled away leaning over to kiss your swollen lips overworked from being wrapped around his thick dick. Making his way onto the bed he pulls your ankles, hovering over you as he grabs onto your breasts, softly kissing each of them and sucking at your hardening nipples. you know he’s gonna leave marks that’ll last for days with the way he treats them.

His actions only have you getting wetter as your hips thrust up to form any contact with him, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Josh. He pauses what he was doing to your tits, his hands reaching behind you to unclip your bra as well as remove your shirt, leaving you in your skirt and underwear.

Making his way lower he removes your shoes and socks kissing from your ankles towards you inner thighs, nipping at your soft skin until he’s reaching the spot you ache for him the most. Pulling down your skirt he can now clearly see your choice of underwear today.

A cute pair of pink lace panties adorned with a little white bow at the front right above your pussy. You shy away from him realising he’s dressed in twice as much clothing as you.

“oh no you can’t back away from me now, not after all the pleading you were doing before.”

Removing his shirt he says “no take backs” and you know you’re fucking in for it today.

He grabs your legs repositioning you to lay on your back with you legs hanging off, your ass just resting on the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of you on the carpet running his hands up and down your legs teasing you. He rips your panties in half having had enough with your neediness today and you’re smart enough to know nows not the time to complain and he’ll buy you more anyways.

Your thoughts of lingerie shopping with Josh are long gone once his mouth makes contact with your pussy, fully latching onto you, his tongue ravaging every crevice and fold of you. Lips moving to wrap around your clit leaving you grasping harder onto his hair as your whines only increase the more he’s moaning into your pussy. This increase of vibrations in return causing so much more wetness to gush from your hole and onto his face.

He lifts himself off the ground and before you can even complain he grabs you pushing your legs up so your thighs are pressed against your chest accentuating your breast as they’re squeezed together, with his cock pounding hard and fast into you. The pain is easily replaced with the large amount of pleasure you’re feeling and the wetness of your pussy made it easier for him to enter you.

You moan out feeling every part of his cock rubbing against somewhere inside of you, trying your best to accomodate to the sudden intrusion. He feels your pussy wrapped around him, the base of his cock feeling you pussy tighten every time he’s fully deep in you, but this only spurs him on more. The desire to have you completely dumb and broken on his dick so that you don’t annoy him after he’s just lost at his game.

So that you can learn a fucking lesson.

That’s exactly what he plans to do and you already know it. Prepared for the way his dick continuously pounds harder and deeper into, the way one of his hands rubs at your clit while the other plays with your nipples increasing all of your body’s sensations, no matter how much you try to stop this stimulation he’s too strong. Not to mention the way his mouth is glued to yours, your lips moving against each other as you’re moaning continuously giving him the chance to slip his tongue between your lips and french kiss you. He knows his parents aren’t home but he doesn’t need the prudish neighbours snitching to them about the exploits you two get into (which they have before).

You can’t take it anymore, all the added stimulation has you dumb, completely dumb on Josh’ dick. His balls slap against the flesh of your ass, heavy with his cum and he knows as he feels you tighten again around him that he’s getting close just like you. His hand on your breast moves to hold your wrist above your head which had begun to annoy him as they tried to push his hand off your clit.

“yeah just a bit more baby just like that, fuck your so fucking tight around my dick, tryna suffocate me huh”

“please mmnh please josh i’m gonna fuckin cum please let me cum”

and that he did.

“let go for me come on this dick, wanna fill you up have you dripping with my cum all night bet you’d like that ye baby”

You moan louder and louder until your mouth is open in a silent scream and you’re coming around his dick, liquid running down his cock and as your pussy keeps milking him he too lets go.

With a deep thrust he fills you up with his load, spurts of cum entering your pussy and as he pulls out he releases a bit more onto the outside of your pussy, painting a pretty picture with the tip of his dick and his cum.

~unedited~

#smut #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman smut #josh futturman #future man #future man smut

[irisintheafterglow]

The Archer (gojo x you)

summary: after your best friend becomes viewed as a monster, the only thing to do is cling to the ones that loved him too. (or, screaming who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, angst but heartwarming ending, manga/anime spoilers, established relationship, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, etc), mention of vomiting but nothing descriptive, yeah did i mention angst

note: i just need to hold gojo satoru and tell him that it's going to be okay is that too much to ask for (anyways hope you enjoy the pain that my brain farted out)

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated <3

“Su?” He freezes, rooted in place as the sun casts shadows on his unreadable expression. “Where are you going?” He sticks his hands into his pockets and turns to you with a smile so fake you need to take a step back. He'd lost a lot of weight but what terrified you the most was the calm aura that surrounded his weakened body, a contentment that was scary to see on someone in so much agony.

“Mission, just a few Curses plaguing a village of about a hundred.” Forcing normalcy into his voice was as successful as forcing a square block into a round hole and you couldn’t stop the worry from leaking onto your face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I had another dream.” His face falls, washing over into careful blankness. He was used to this, your technique and the consequences it brought. It was, however, a long time since you confronted someone directly about what you see. “You know, Future, it doesn’t show me what will happen.” He won’t meet your eyes and you hesitantly take a few more steps toward him.

“It shows me what can happen.” 

His words are cautious, delicate as if saying the wrong sentence would break you like a fragile piece of pottery. “And what did you see?” 

“Something that I’m begging you not to fulfill.” You swallow the lump in your throat and blink back the fear threatening to spill over from your eyes. “I’m so scared, Suguru. I’m so fucking scared.” You stumble the rest of the way forward and his arms wrap around you instinctually, holding you tightly as you continue to plead for him not to go. He pulls away to look at you and a sliver of hope pokes the back of your mind when you see the conflict in his eyes. It disappears as resolve hardens on his face. 

“You’re family. Whatever I do, I will not harm you.” 

“I need you to promise you won’t–”

“I can’t promise anything beyond that.” After a moment you have no choice but to nod, defeated, and he pulls away for the last time. “You have my word.”

The news hits you like a train that you saw coming ten miles away, knocking the air from your lungs and sending shards of invisible shrapnel into your body. Because of your technique, you know before everyone–Yaga, Shoko, Nanami, the higher-ups, Satoru. You feel the moment Suguru makes his decision in your own body like cruel twin telepathy and you rush into the nearest bathroom to expel everything you’d eaten that day. You feel the same sensation again when word reaches Yaga, the whispers of massacre and Curse User and traitor seeping into your ears. Nothing, however, could compare to the storm you felt when Yaga told Satoru. 

You fall asleep early in the days after Suguru leaves. Not because his absence didn’t keep you up at night, but because you didn’t really know what to do except hide in dreams. Dreams that kept you in a state of blissful ignorance; you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko at the fair or the park or the beach, not scattered into four separate corners by indifferent Fate. Suguru’s departure felt like a severing of your soul, like your brother died rather than your best friend leaving. You avoided others like prey escaping a predator, paranoidly checking reflections in windows for people you didn’t have the energy to talk with and ducking behind corners when voices got too near. When the few missions you completed were over, you were back in bed, curled into yourself so tightly that no one could reach you. 

No one, at least, except Satoru.

He calls you some nights later and you squint against the harsh light of your phone screen. 

“Satoru?”

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” There’s a forced smirk in his voice that you see through like glass, immediately noticing the way his pained tone wavers with every uttered word. “Did I wake you from your beauty rest?”

“Mhmm,” you hum exhaustedly, groaning as you sit up in the darkness and swing your legs over the side of your bed. “Door’s open if you need it.”

“Yeah…okay.” The melodically teasing tone in his voice drops in an instant, as does its volume. You make sure there’s an unopened bottle of water ready for when he gets to your dorm. He was probably just as dehydrated from sobbing as you are. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, love?” 

“Waking you.” You laugh softly, rubbing your eyes and sitting back on the edge of your bed. 

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re too good at that.”

“What, knowing when you’re lying? I thought we weren’t supposed to lie to each other. Relationships 101.” He huffs as much of a chuckle as he can. “What are you really sorry about, Satoru?

His voice cracks and your heart feels like it’s been stabbed a hundred times. “I need you. Really badly.” There was no suggestive air or promiscuous tone in his voice, just unfiltered desperation not to be alone. “Can I–”

“Of course. Get over here; I miss you.” 

You time the duration it takes for him to get to you, two minutes on the dot. He opens your door slowly as if to check if you’re still awake, and shuts it just as gently. You flick on your nightstand lamp and feel your stomach sink when you fully take in just how tired he looks. There’s no trace of anger or frustration on his face, only pure loss. The bags under his eyes deepen as he sighs, avoiding your eyes for the first time you can remember. He just stands there in the middle of your room, deflated and suffering. When he speaks, it’s a strangled and helpless choke. 

“I couldn’t–”

“Shh, just come here.” You rise from your bed and catch him when his knees buckle, his face buried in your shoulder. He doesn’t cry or heave like you did; he just grabs whatever he can with his hands and holds you so needily his arms start to tremble. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” 

When you finally slide under the covers with him, he’s still clinging to you like you’d float away if he let go. “Stay.” He pleads with you even as you have him locked against your chest, gently carding your fingers through his hair. It’s soft between your fingers and reflects the little moonlight seeping through the cracks in your curtains. 

“I will.” You press another kiss to his forehead as if to seal your words, but he doesn’t feel safe yet. 

“Please, stay.” 

“I swear on my life that I will not leave your side.” You try to lace Cursed Energy into your words, make them as unbreakable as you command them to be. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathe him in, willing him to let himself go. To not be the honored one or the strongest sorcerer, but Satoru, to break down and grieve just as any other man would. 

“I’m so sorry.” There it is, baby. Just let go. 

“I know, sweetheart. Rest now, I’ve got you.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen season 2 #jjk spoilers

[literaila]

c’mere 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: peter accidentally takes a picture of you with the flash on. 

warnings: fluff. 

a/n: i have no clue whats going on with my series at the moment so take this instead :)

*

it's not peter's fault when you turn around with wide eyes and a slightly concerned brow. 

it is not his fault when a yelp escapes your mouth and your whole body freezes. 

and it is certainly not his fault that someone forgot to turn off the flash on his camera. 

or, that's what he'll tell you. 

you open the window, mouth slightly pursed, eyes still wide. "what are you doing?" 

peter swings through before you can finish asking the question, forcing you to move back. 

before he grabs your forearm, fingers playing with the skin there, to force you closer to him. 

to push and pull and keep smiling at you like he's done nothing wrong. 

he swings his head back and forth, leaning in to you. 

he wants to kiss you, but the look on your face indicates that you would like anything but. 

it's mostly amusing. 

"did you just take a picture of me?" 

"no." peter shakes his head, purses his lips, so sure of himself. 

he doesn't let the smile slip. 

but he can still see it. 

you. sitting at your desk, writing something in a journal you never let him see, shoulders relaxed, body attuned to the beat of the music you're playing in the background. an unknowing smile on your face. 

peter already knows that it's going on the wall. 

he understood that from the moment he took it. 

"delete it," you say, quickly, removing your hands from his, your arms, so that you can cross them. 

so that you can keep a measured distance between the two of you.

"what?" he asks, frowning. "why?" 

"because. i wasn't ready." 

he laughs. holds his camera up in the air like he knows that you're going to grab it. "no way." 

"peter." 

he shakes his head at you, a small smile plastered to his face. 

he knows that you're not actually mad. but do you know that? 

you probably don't know about all of the other pictures of you in the same position, plastered somewhere on his wall where he guessed you wouldn't look. 

you've only caught him once. 

"i'll kick you out," you say, as a threat. 

but peter slides his shoes off. he drops his bag on the ground and falls onto your bed, still smiling at you, still as arrogant as ever. 

still watching you. waiting for you to break. 

this might be his favorite game. 

"your bed is so warm," he mumbles, turning over into his stomach and pushing his face into one of your pillows. 

maybe it's so that you can't see the guilt on his face. 

maybe it's so he can smell you, can trick you into climbing into bed with him. 

maybe he's just tired. 

"peter," you poke his shoulder, eyes still venomous. "why are you wearing clothes?" 

he turns around, brow raised. "sorry?" 

"no--" you sigh, head towards the ceiling like you're waiting for an answer. "i mean--where's your suit?"

"i changed." 

"why?" 

peter considers this. 

maybe he didn't want to scare you again. or did, but not like that. 

maybe he wanted to feel normal, for just a night. 

or maybe he just wanted to climb through your window. 

"couldn't let anyone see me come in." 

you tilt your head, brows softening. peter watches your face brighten right in front of him. he watches as you shift, thoughts changing, ideas forming in your head. 

you know him; you know what he means. 

he is almost taken aback by the idea. 

he is almost completely knocked out, by just the thought. 

it hurts more than any punch. 

and exhilarates him. in a strange, conscious way. 

"you've done it before," you say, a little bit softer, smoother. you sit down on the bed, still four feet away from him. "and no one's seen you." 

he smiles. "yeah." 

and leaves the answer out in the air. 

he lets it drift away to someone else's balcony. he would rather stare at you than think about any of the complexities that come with spider-man. 

he would rather stare at you than do anything else. 

"i'm not deleting that picture," he says, as if a child. "i like it." 

"you haven't even seen it." 

"i love it." 

you bite the inside of your cheek, just so peter can't watch you smile. 

it makes him laugh. 

"c'mere," he whispers, hand-stretched towards you. 

but your brow furrows again. 

your expression molds into the next, and peter tries to take a snapshot of every single moment there is of any hesitation. 

he just barely gets it all. 

"i'm not 'c'mere-ing' with you." 

peter frowns. "c'mere." 

you laugh at him now, teeth flashing in the light. eyes hidden from peter, but still so knowing. "you can't just repeat what you said and expect different results." 

"i'm insane," peter allows. "i want to cuddle with you." 

"are you going to delete the picture?" 

"never." 

you shrug. look away from him. "i've got some homework to finish." 

peter reaches out and grabs your hand. 

you allow it, for just the moment. 

"i won't do anything," he promises, softly, pretending that your skin doesn't burn him every time you move. 

"that was very convincing." 

"i just wanna look at you." 

your eyes soften if only for the way he says it. "you can do that from my bed." 

"not close enough." 

"peter." 

and if there's anything peter knows about you--you always break. 

reluctantly, but with a coercive smile on your face, you climb in next to him, crossing your legs and looking down at him. 

"not close enough," he whispers again, hand trailing up your arm and creating goosebumps down your back. 

"i'm not tired." 

"we don't have to sleep," his eyebrows raise, he stares down at your lips because they are slightly addicting. and also because he's weak. 

you nudge him, laughing. "what happened to not doing anything?" 

"i lied," he says, leaning closer. 

"i don't kiss liars." 

and peter smiles, a bit amused by every ounce of resistance you put into your words. a bit amused because he can see your eyes flicker down to his lips, a bit possessed. 

"liar," he says, and then he kisses you. 

and you don't complain. or move away. because you never do. 

peter leans up, angling himself so that you're almost on top of him. 

his hand goes around your waist, to the center of your back, slightly dragging as it urges to feel every inch of your skin. 

the other goes to your face, holding you as close to him as possible. thumb feeling the twinge of your cheek as you smile. 

which peter can feel because he's kissing you. 

his heart sighs at the gesture. 

"peter," you whisper, lips still on his, the word going straight to his stomach and swirling around. 

he doesn't answer. merely kisses you harder. 

you almost laugh. 

he leans up even more, the hand on your back moving to the parts of your thigh he can reach, gentle and softening and always seeking more. 

you just barely gasp when he flips you over, a moment in all. 

"peter," you whisper again, but it's louder. more forceful. 

"c'mere," he says, smiling against you, feeling as you wrap your hands around his neck. 

never complaining, only pretending to. 

you tilt your head up so you can keep up with him. you breathe into his mouth, not allowing an inch of distance between the two of you. 

your hands streak into his hair and peter has to fight back a groan. 

he has to pretend that this is casual. 

that this doesn't elicit a type of euphoria that words cannot describe. 

but feelings can. 

like his sore throat, taken back by the effort it takes to breathe when he's this close to you. 

like his pounding stomach, pushing and pulling and trying not to be swarmed by the rabble in his stomach. 

like the taste of your lips, the feel of your own skin, branding into his. 

like the fact that he can feel your eyes fluttering, making an effort to stay closed. 

he pulls back, just to look at you. 

just to see you some more. 

he smiles at you, traces a finger up your face, admiring the gentle creases in your skin. 

"what?" you ask him, softly, trying to hide in your own skin, for just a moment. 

but peter tilts your chin back up, he watches your eyes, waiting for the answers that he knows are there. 

"you're lovely," he whispers, as if you can't hear him. 

he says it for himself; like a reminder. like a prayer into the world, begging for more. 

"peter," you whisper, and it's all the answer. 

he kisses you again. softer. breaking free from any feelings that he's trying not to feel. 

breaking free from the pain this causes. 

swearing to himself that it only makes it better. 

he breathes onto your skin, breath hot and humid, kissing your pulse. moving down your neck so that he can taste more. 

so that you might keep mumbling into the air, saying things that he can't hear but can feel. 

so that he might elicit just another vibration from your lips. 

you push even closer to him. 

there's no resistance. 

but as soon as he wraps back up around your neck, lips choosing to fall closer to your ear, to nibble at the skin there and enjoy the way you giggle--you push up at his chest, almost squirming away from him. 

"hey," you say, and he stops. 

he looks into your eyes, pleasure morphing to concern. "you alright?" 

"i just wanna look at you." 

the words are enough to push him back onto his side. to move him so that he's facing you, close enough to taste your skin, but resisting, just so he can abide your wishes. 

"i love you," you tell him, in breathless whispers, staring into his eyes. 

he repeats it back to you, like a mockingbird. 

flying closer to you, swearing that he's never going to leave your side. 

it's not his fault, really. 

if you weren't so addicting, he might not have to. 

"peter," you say, just one last time. 

and he smiles. 

"c'mere."

*

my masterlist here. 

tags:  @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life​ @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf​

#tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #tasm!fluff #the amazing spider-man #The Avengers #The Amazing Spider Man #the amazing spider man imagine #spider-man #spider man #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew!spiderman imagine

[mango-bango-bby]

The Dragon 🌼” with Dragon toji falling for a village reader who nursed him back to health when she found him injured.

♡ Mate Material ♡

(A/N: Ugh, I still can’t get Toji’s characterization right 😣😣 I’m trying though! I love dragon au’s so much, it reminds me of all those classic fairytales 💓💓)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, fantasy!au, dragon!Toji, reader is just to kind, mentions of injuries and blood, Toji was hunted for being a dragon, slight delusions

Summary: You find Toji injured and decide to take him home to heal him (Yan!Toji x GN!reader)

Prompt List ➸ ♡

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You didn’t exactly go into the village much. You lived in a cottage on the outskirts of the village, only going in town to help if someone was injured. The village didn’t have a doctor, but they did have a nurse. Because they have you.

You look down at your feet, seeing the small dirt path that leads back to your home. It was fairly late, already dark outside by now. You had helped someone in the village earlier and now you were headed back to your cottage. You stop at a growling sound from the trees around you, it sounds like growls and heavy breathing. It sounds as if an animal is hurt.

You think for a moment before getting off of the path, following the sound. You know it’s reckless and you could get hurt, but you just couldn’t help it. You just couldn’t help yourself, if anyone of anything was in trouble you would try to help in anyway you could.

You stand frozen when finally find what’s injured. It was a dragon, although he was in his human form. His horns still visible as well as his tail, claws, and a few scales. It seems as if he escaped getting hunted, judging by the few arrows still in his skin. Toji looks up at you, growling a bit as if to tell you to go away. You only take a step closer, getting closer to see his injured a bit more.

Toji slowly drops his head before passing out from the blood loss, falling directly onto the forest floor causing you to jump back a bit, afraid. You take a step closer, gently poking him to make sure that he’s not awake. You gently pick up his arm, putting it around your shoulder, trying your best to carry him despite how heavy he was. You knew it was dangerous but you had to help him.

♡ ♡ ♡

Toji jolts awake, a searing pain from his back to his chest exactly where he had been shot. Although he wakes up to comforting candle light rather than than his cave. The small room has light only coming from the lanterns and the window which is only covered by a shabby lace curtain that seems to be homemade.

His chest and back are bandaged, and it seems as if his wounds were cleaned as well. You sit in a chair next to the bed, your head leaned back as you sleep peacefully.

There’s a stool next to you, bandages, medicines, and ointments on it. It seems as if you were going to wait for him to regain consciousness but ended up falling asleep.

You really found him injured and took him home with you to care for him. And you were so cute too. Cute and caring? There’s only one thought that can come to his mind now, it’s consuming him. Mate. You would’ve the perfect mate.

He gets up, limping a bit at the pain however it’s slightly manageable now. Although he will be back. He needs some courting gifts for you, some jewels left at your doorstep should show his feelings for you. After a couple more gifts, he could surely take you for himself.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere fantasy au #yandere jjk #yandere toji #yandere toji fushiguro #yandere!toji #yandere toji x reader #yandere!toji fushiguro #yandere toji fushiguro x reader #yandere!toji fushiguro x reader #yandere fushiguro

[samstree]

Jewel

(obikin, 1.6k, established relationship, also on ao3) Anakin is on painkillers and forgets something important.

Anakin wakes up warm and comfortable, swathed in layers of blankets and wrapped in strong arms.

The world swims, swaying and tipping to one side in the distinctive way of being put on painkillers. He blinks, and blinks again.

“Mmph…” he makes a confused noise, not sure how he ended up here. Or where here is, even.

“Hey, careful.”

Oh, that is the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.

So Anakin looks up, following the source of the voice and meeting the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

“Obi-Wan.”

He breathes the name in wonder, heart fluttering, nearly giddy. Of course, it’s Obi-Wan. He is the most beautiful man in the whole galaxy, and Anakin loves him so much even when his head is fuzzy with drugs. He’d know Obi-Wan when he barely remembers his own name. He needs to tell Obi-Wan that, how important he is, how much joy he brings into Anakin’s life, but all that comes out is—

“Obi-Wan, you are…here.”

An amused huff rumbles against Anakin’s ear, and Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle softly. It’s Anakin’s favorite look, when happiness is etched into the lines around his eyes. He reaches out to touch, only to grunt in pain.

“Don’t move just yet. Your shoulder is in quite a state, darling.”

The arms around Anakin hold him closer, securing him in place. He then looks down to find his prosthetic arm tightly bound with a sling. The pain spreads from his shoulder to his chest, dulled like a distant echo.

“But I feel fine.” He nuzzles into Obi-Wan’s neck. The world doesn’t spin as much when he rests against Obi-Wan like this.

“It’s all the painkillers you are on. They had to double the doses, with your metabolism so fast. It’s still not working well enough.” Concern seeps into Obi-Wan’s voice. “Let’s not try anything just now. I’d hate to set your bones again.”

With that, gentle fingers run through Anakin’s hair, almost putting him back to sleep with all the petting and scratching.

A glint of silver catches Anakin’s eyes.

“Oh,” he says, struggling to extract the free arm to catch Obi-Wan’s hand. “What is this?”

He frowns at the silver band resting on the fourth finger of Obi-Wan’s hand, heart growing heavy despite the confusion. He pokes at the thing, the warm metal touching the tip of his index finger.

“It’s my ring, dear one. What are you doing?”

“It’s a wedding ring.”

Anakin turns Obi-Wan’s palm, observing the band intently. His head doesn’t feel like his own, but his memory is still intact. A silver band on the fourth finger, that is Stewjoni tradition to indicate that—"

“You are…married?”

Anakin meant it as an accusation. When did Obi-Wan get married? How? Where? Why does he not know about it? But all that came out of his lips is a sad whisper, voice trembling with hurt.

He meets Obi-Wan in the eye, but only finds surprise there. It’s rather unfair, for Obi-Wan to stare at him like that, as if he’s crazy for asking the question. He’d think he deserves an answer after all this time, the love weighing on his heart, never reciprocated. He is fine with it. He really is. It’s just…

He was still hoping, against all odds.

Now that is gone too.

“Anakin, I—You see, we—”

“But you can’t be.” Anakin shakes his head at the silly idea. “Not you, never you. What was I thinking? To be married, you’d need to leave the Order. My old master would never, not the perfect Jedi.”

He adds a dry laugh in the end for good measure, sounding properly putulent now, but Obi-Wan’s eyes only soften.

“Oh, Anakin, I did leave the Order. I left so I could marry—”

“No, don’t tell me,” he interrupts in a hurry. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

It borders on torture now. Anakin knows because he has been tortured. To know the name of Obi-Wan’s beloved would destroy him. All he wants to do is get away. He cannot stay in Obi-Wan’s arms when they belong to someone else. To steal comfort that doesn’t belong to him is worse than not having it at all.

His eyes brim with tears, and he lets them fall freely.

“Anakin, it’s not like that…”

“Just don’t.” He struggles against Obi-Wan’s hold, voice wet with tears, heedless of his injured shoulder. “I don’t want to hear it. Just let me get out of here—”

“Anakin!”

It’s the desperation in Obi-Wan’s voice that stops his motion. That and the fact that Anakin can barely move his limbs, muscles so relaxed they feel like jelly. The ache returns, deep in his bones, but none of it matters when his face is cupped in gentle hands and the most beautiful eyes are right in front of him.

Anakin is powerless when Obi-Wan’s attention is on him, so close yet so far away.

“Will you listen to me? Let me explain?”

Anakin sniffles, and then answers weakly, “…alright.”

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan takes his flesh hand, threading their fingers together. His motion is so tender, so intimate that it erases every last thought from Anakin’s mind.

“It must be one of the side effects of the drugs.” For some reason, Obi-Wan is sounding too amused for the grave situation they are in. “This will be very funny when you come out of it, dearest. Believe me, I want to enjoy it, but not at your expense when your head is messed up like this. Will you look at your hand? For me, just look at your hand.”

Their hands lay on top of the blankets, skin against skin. When Anakin looks down, there are two silver bands, side by side. One on Obi-Wan’s fourth finger, the other on Anakin’s.

“Huh,” he makes a confused sound. “I’m married too?”

“Against all odds, yes. Master Yoda lost the bet to Master Windu on the big day.”

Anakin blinks, brow furrowed.

“But to who?”

He can’t imagine overcoming the heartache of Obi-Wan devoting himself to someone else, but—

“Will you look at the other side of the rings?”

With that, Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s hand again, flipping over both of their palms to show the underside of the rings. There is a small inscription etched onto each of them. The one on Obi-Wan’s is the traditional Tatooine symbol for “rain”, the pattern often carved into Japor wood and gifted to one’s beloved. Rain is the most precious thing, after all. The inscription on Anakin’s band reads “jewel” in Stewjoni.

But how does he know that? When does he know Stewjoni words?

“Oh,” Anakin hums. He feels as if he’s on the verge of a great discovery, a warmth spreading through his chest like a promise from the past. A vow, maybe. “Oh, Obi-Wan! I see!”

“Really? What do you see?”

Anakin breaks into a big smile. “I don’t know! But I’m so happy!”

Obi-Wan’s laugh is like music to Anakin’s ear. Even though he thinks he’s the one being made fun of, he still loves that laugh.

“I’m glad you are happy,” Obi-Wan says, indulgently, “but what if… I did this?”

He takes Anakin’s flesh hand, and kisses him on the fourth finger, right above the silver band, lips incredibly soft. Anakin’s mouth falls open.

“Still happy?”

Anakin nods so hard that he feels dizzy.

“How about… this?”

Obi-Wan trails a few kisses along the back of Anakin’s hand, reaching the delicate skin at his wrist. He looks up through long lashes, eyes impossibly soft, and then—

And then, he kisses Anakin right on the mouth.

The kiss is chaste and light as a feather. It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second, but the world comes to a stop.

As soon as Obi-Wan breaks away, Anakin gapes again. He can only stare at the smug looks on Obi-Wan’s face. When he leans in, Anakin closes his mouth to kiss him, again, and again.

They draw out another kiss, breathing deep into it, the Force singing around them with how right it feels. Their lips meet in a rhythm so familiar, it’s like a choreographed dance. Anakin melts into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s presence, smiling when the soft beard scratches the corner of his mouth. They finally break apart, and now the world is spinning for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, my dearest.”

Anakin lets out a small gasp at the endearment. He is Obi-Wan’s—

“My beloved,” Obi-Wan murmurs, running a thumb on Anakin’s cheek, palm cradling his chin gently. “Don’t you see? There is no one else. I left the Order for you, so we could marry. I left because you are my joy, my hope, the jewel of my heart… who has forgotten all about our marriage after a few doses of painkillers. Tell me, dearest, what shall I do with you?”

All Anakin can do is stare. He stares as Obi-Wan helps him lean against the pillows and adjust his own position so they can cuddle comfortably. He stares as Obi-Wan peppers more kisses on his arm, his shoulder, hand. He stares as Obi-Wan tucks the stray curls behind his ear, with nothing but love on his face, as if the sight of Anakin brings him all the happiness he could ever ask for.

“We are married?” Anakin asks, feeling silly now but still needing the confirmation. “You… love me?”

Obi-Wan looks like his heart is breaking, just a little. “What can I do to convince you?”

Anakin perks up at that. “Kiss me again?”

“That I can do.” A smile, and Obi-Wan obliges.

They kiss until Anakin is dizzy with love, until his bones are humming with contentment. They kiss until The Force wraps around them tightly, reminding him of the familiar warmth from his memories. Of vows made while their hands intertwine, their hearts beating in tandem.

They kiss until another tear trails down Anakin’s cheek. It’s not nearly as precious as the rain drops on Tatooine, or the jewels of Stewjon, but his beloved kisses it away too.

#obikin #obikin fic

[nonbinarypirat]

Learning how to be selfish (another iruma focused deep dive. Spoilers for iruma kun manga)

I promise I won’t ONLY focus on iruma as a character. I plan to do a post on many characters and scenes, especially since I have been breezing through the story. As a hobbiest writer and actor, I love to go back and reflect on scenes, read them multiple times, and learn why a character did what they did. And I want to share these thoughts with y’all. It’s just that, I have hit Opera becoming a teacher and decided this is the perfect time to take a pause and reflect on this new side of iruma we are seeing poking through. (And YES I most definitely screamed when they became a teacher, my nonbinary icon.) so yeah, I plan to make a lot of posts, but it’s another iruma only one today. Take a shot every time I say selfish or greedy in this tho, I repeat it so often. No thesaurus is being used today.

Ok, im loving that Iruma is becoming more selfish. I especially loved Iruma telling Purson that he’s learned that it’s ok to do selfish acts and stick with what you want to do rather than doing what people want or expect of you. This is the first sign of Iruma breaking out of just saying yes to things. Saying no can be so difficult, especially if you have lived your entire live thinking that was the only option for you to do. He’s too kind, and trained, so he said yes to basically anything even at the risk of hurting or exhausting himself. I appreciated this moment because Purson similarly doesn’t feel like he has many choices. He loved his family and wants to support the family business, but feel dragged along with the whims of his father.

Though I guess it’s kind of a misnomer to say that the scene with Purson is the “first” time we have heard greedy being applied to Iruma. Amelie was the first person and at first I didn’t fully get what she meant. I think I kind of just dropped that part of the conversation as unimportant. But it’s actually super important for us as the audience to understand his character going forward. At the beginning, Iruma didn’t have a lot of motivations, merely being led by whatever happened in the Netherworld. He was in a manner of speaking, selfless to an unhealthy degree. It was only by learning to set a goal for himself that he started to feel (at least to me) as an active participant to the world at large. And Amelie was the one who inspired that in him in the first place. Amelie was the first one to call him selfish/greedy (to my recollection) which is fitting as the character who pushed him so far.

I also think I should clarify that I don’t use the term selfish in this case as a negative. In fact, I’m happy he is becoming a greedy character. Because Iruma won’t abuse this trait of his. Selfishness without kindness and care is dangerous. Without empathy and compassion, greed quickly turns into cruelty. Iruma has these traits though. He has the morals and love to utilize his selfishness to the fullest. Selfishness and kindness can go hand to hand. In fact, I think this is the best quality for one to have. The desire to strive towards your wants while understanding that you can’t treat the people and environment as expendable. And Iruma has the deadly combination of selfishness, caring, and determination.

Which leads us into the 13’s Dinner in which they talk about food bringing out who a demon really is. I loved this scene because it highlights what people could see on the surface when faced with Iruma’s gluttony (aka greed). Baal said “it’d terrifying to think of what he’d be like as a king” (paraphrasing) but that’s without understanding the core fundamentals of who Iruma is. We see him try to force this idea onto Sabro too, saying iruma is pushing his grandfather’s weight around to turn him against Iruma. That’s just widely untrue. Baal, and honestly so many of the Six Fingers from what we’ve seen so far, believe that people are just like them. That deep down, they are (or could be forced into) the rotten type of selfishness that their group takes pride in. True, people can be forced to do cruel things. That doesn’t mean thats who you are fundamentally however. Baal lacks the love that Iruma is overflowing with. And so he equates selfishness with cruelty. He thinks that if he experiences this certain flavor of the trait, that must mean everyone else experiences it the same way too.

Either way, Iruma is a character that is shaping up to be someone who has many desires. From zero to infinity, And what makes him so likable is that he’s willing to do anything to protect those desires. To protect the life he has built and the people he has come to cherish. He wants it all. His friends, soulmates (and yes you better believe I will post a screaming post about that at some point), Amelie, family, good food, fun, adventure, Balam, Kalego and so much more. He wants everything. And he’s also willing to do anything it takes to protect these desires. More than that, he’s always grateful to the life he has built here, to the people who have opened up their hearts to, and for the beautiful home he has created. And that’s the reason why I can’t wait to see Iruma grow into the wonderful selfish person he deserves to be.

#iruma-kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #m!ik #iruma kun #character analysis #hyperfixation #can y’all tell this is my current hyperfixation #I’m the everyday I wake up meme but it’s me reading iruma kun #I have so many thoughts about this series #I hope you enjoyed this post I have a lot more planned

[catiuskaa]

My Atlantis [don’t go]

inspired by the songs “atlantis” by Seafret and “can I call you tonight?” by Dayglow.

because the combination chan + second chance + angsty prompts AND my recent ability to fall asleep only past 3am triggered something I didn't know I had in me, lol (I swear I am ok LMAOO)

word count: 3.9k

angst, second chance, good ending.

No matter how many times he had asked himself the past month, he never could come up with a reason for it.

“Chan, you ok?” Seungmin inquired, popping his head through the door. The eldest snapped out of his zoned-out state and smiled, starting to tease the younger in a sing-song voice.

“Aw, Seungminnie, you’re so cute!”

Since the comeback, the members had all been busy, and it was known by the other seven that despite the lack of sleep and rest, the many concerts and shows. If there was one of them that would never say anything about how fucked up he felt, it was Chan.

Chan wouldn’t complain about anything. He’d rather stay hidden, quiet, hoping to merge with the furniture in his room so he wouldn’t feel so tired anymore.

It wasn’t new for the others, and Chris always felt a speck of guilt trail up his spine when any of them came by his room, only to find him sunken in his computer, his headphones blasting music so loudly that there was no hope of calling for the Australian unless you poked him —or in Minho’s case, throwing anything remotely close to the target, like his slipper, usually passed the level— Chan would go into off mode.

What they didn’t know, however, is why. Because usually, he was just tired, but nowadays, there is another reason.

He often trailed off conversations, zoning out. He had always been like that, often related to his insomnia.

Only one member knew the existence of the other new reason.

You.

“Hey, I made brownies!” Felix shined, entering his fellow bandmate’s room.

Lix watched Chan munch on his baked goods for what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, the corners of his mouth full of crumbs, like his bed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Chan tsked, smiling weakly. He had fallen for it. “Never fucking mind. Can I get a hug?”

Felix held back his tears, approaching the elder in a tight embrace. Chan’s strong facade crumbled.

“You should go see her, Chan. I don’t care what you have to say about it, but whatever happened is breaking you apart. It’s been so long, anyways.”

Chan laughed, even though he sighed slightly heavier than usual, with a teary grin on his features.

“I still fucked up, mate, whether it’s one week or one year. I fucked up bad.” He stopped and swallowed dry, quickly brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “I can’t just show up at her place.”

The younger brushed away a stray tear that ran down his cheek. “You either go there or let it eat you from the inside,” Felix spoke carefully. “And I won’t give you the second choice. If you don’t go with her, I’ll make the call. That is your choice.”

Even if he found himself walking to your apartment, unconsciously, he still couldn’t give an answer to the question that kept bugging his mind.

He listened to the sound the birds made despite it being so late. He moved slowly, almost wandering, until the door to your home surprised him. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine. You weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

God, he was so scared. What was he doing?

He cursed under his breath, cussing himself out, his stupidness, his acts. He started crying without realising.

What else, if not him being an idiot, would explain why he had lost you?

“Chris?”

No one except you said his name in a way that felt so different, so special.

“…Is everything ok?”

He turned around to face you. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, ending on his lips, tasting the salty drops.

“Darling…” He mentioned, his tone anxious, his breathing erratic.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Again, the dream kept repeating, with that detail that always hurt him like the first time. He couldn’t approach you, or he’d wake up, yet he still tried, walking towards you just to open his eyes to face his room’s ceiling.

That was why he couldn’t sleep.

He felt like he deserved it, so he didn’t say anything and decided to put up a fake smile, hoping that one day he’d wake up, either having hugged you or not having that same dream again.

He fell again for you, more profound than he thought possible, and he knew it because just the thought of you pulling him into an embrace felt even better than all the kisses you two had shared. And then it hit him, the answer to his question, one he suddenly despised more than anything.

Why did he let you go?

At first, it was an easy answer. He couldn’t save you from himself, from what surrounded him. He could never take back the things he had said that dreadful night a month ago, when he had lied to you just because he was afraid, afraid of love, terrified of the feelings he had developed for you, and so, so scared that you would get hurt because of him. It wasn’t fair for you, even if he meant entirely the opposite and had just realised how deeply he had fallen for you.

Because in a twist of events, his mind, his days, his songs, everything screamed your name, like a chant you wouldn’t- you couldn’t forget.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he cried, clinging to his pillow.

Changbin stared wide-eyed at Felix, both able to hear what was happening behind the door between them.

“You call her, or do I?” Bin sighed.

Felix’s eyes almost snapped out of place.

“Since when do you-?”

“C’mon, everyone here knows. He’s so fucking obvious, sighing all day long. It’s going to make him age faster.” Changbin somewhat mocked in a solemn tone. “So?” He shook his phone sideways.

“S’fine. I’m on it.”

Changbin then entered the room, startling Chan, who, after seeing the troublesome look in his friend’s eyes, quickly approached him, leaning on the crook of his neck. The rapper patted his back.

“Why does it ache so much?” Chan questioned weakly, feeling stupid. “I know the fucking dream by heart. How often do I have to see it again until it doesn’t hurt?”

“Because you care, Chan. It’ll hurt.”

“For how long?” He sounded in so much pain.

At this, Changbin sighed sadly.

“As long as you love her.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

When Chris went to open the door days later, he expected anyone behind it. Maybe it was Felix with more brownies, perhaps Changbin wanted to force him out of bed to go to the gym, or Jeongin needed his computer password again.

What he didn’t expect, however, was your figure on the other side, looking even prettier than any of the dreams he had about you.

You took a deep breath, but before you could say anything, he slammed the door, closing it. You could hear him leaning on it, sliding to the floor.

“Fuck, angel,” you cursed.

Angel. The nickname felt like a punch in the face, but he couldn’t help but want another one.

Instead of leaving, you leaned on the door, technically back to back if it weren’t for the wooden structure.

“Felix called me,” you started carefully, head directed towards the door. “Wanna talk about why? He didn’t say.”

Chan remained silent, feeling troubled because, on one side, seeing you could be his downfall, still fuck did he want to let go so much.

But he couldn’t. He had said it himself, year after year, hearing it too many times so that he had it tattoed on his mind. Why were you still behind that door?

Your sad laugh broke him into even more pieces.

“I fell in love, Chan,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I fell in love with a man so selfless who would die for his loved ones, a man so integrally beautiful that he had no reason to hide his scars because even his battles were gorgeous.” You quickly rubbed your eyes, feeling them itchy as you held back tears. “And I didn’t do it knowing that it would be hard. I just...”

The corridor remained silent as much as the door stayed locked, the man behind it feeling like a small child who needed a big hug.

You gasped for air, your chest tightening, for your need to crumble, cry, and fall.

“Even if I didn’t know back then the crazy fans I’d have to face, or any of Dispatch’s cameramen, I…” Your tearful smile fainted a bit, your features as serious as you were about your feelings.

“I promised myself that if I was right, and you loved me as much as I know I love you, I’d fight for you.”

You unknowingly cried with him, knowing that no one, not even him, could save you from falling as intensely as possible and even more.

He had tried to protect you, save you, keeping you at a safe distance because he didn’t want to hurt you, but God, did it hurt being away from you. He was missing you, even when you were right by his side.

“I believe I did my fucking best, angel. I know you have feelings that make you think you’re the one to blame for what happened, and that makes you just want to give up, and I get it, Chan. That’s not your fault. But when I got hurt because of the accident, it wasn’t your fault either,” you sniffed, looking at the bandage that still covered your forearm, the ankle support you were wearing also crossed your mind.

“Why… why don’t you let me love you?”

You waited patiently, turning so silently that you could swear you heard his unsteady breathing.

“…you said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice toned down as if he was hiding his face in between his legs.

“I said it wasn’t easy, angel, but that doesn’t mean that I am not willing to try. Don’t think for a second that means I’m giving up on you.”

You sighed, looking at the cloudy day through the window before you.

“Even knowing what I know now, I’d do it again, my angel.”

The silence threatened to break your heart, but you chose to keep fighting against it. You weren’t going to give up. Not yet.

You could still fight for him. Yeah. You could.

“I’m going to leave my sweater here.” You mentioned in a low tone of voice, your features showed calm before the storm. “After I leave, I’ll call and ask for it, and you’ll say that you can stop by my place tomorrow.”

He looked behind him as if he could see through the door. A small and sad smile was planted on his features as he couldn’t help but think your ideas were still as cute as he remembered them. You rose from the door with a grunt, your eyes red and teary, glued to the floor.

“You were always worth every fucking ounce of my effort, Chris, don’t you ever forget that.” 

In a sudden motion, you turned to face the door, startling him when you aggressively grabbed the doorknob, making it tremble, even though you never opened it.

“If… if you choose to just keep the sweater and call it a day,” you gasped, tears running down your cheeks silently. “I need you to know that I never believed what you said that night and… that I love you, angel.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

That night. The night.

The night where he had fucked up so badly.

His mind was a fucking mess, thoughts of you reeling in every minute. Your voice through the door, through the phone when you called asking for your oversized sweater —the same one he was wearing at the moment—.

The memory replayed itself, like how those we want to forget but keep haunting you, coming back.

A month ago, he had gotten a call from the hospital and had 100% freaked out. You mentioned you were fine, that it had just been an accident, but the man decided to rush to you regardless.

“Chris?” You noticed him tense up when you saw him enter your hospital room, his expression clouded with worry.

“Darling, what...? W-what happened?” His lips trembled, eyes wandering to the cast on your left leg and the bandage that trailed your right forearm.

“You should’ve seen the others,” you teased but sighed. “I need you to sit and calm down for a second, love,” you started.

The nickname made him hold back shivers because deep down he knew that if you didn’t call him ‘angel’ it was because something was wrong. He sat on the closest chair he could pick, moving it as if it weighed nothing, and turned to face you as fast as he could.

“I was surrounded by some sasaengs and cameramen. I’ve been for the past week. I never mentioned it to you because there’s no damn way you can do anything about it, and I don’t want to get between you and your job. It’s not my world, and besides, I can tolerate pictures or getting recognized, but, this time...” You took his hand into yours, his glare dull and worried, but you weren’t planning to lie to him after this, so you continued. “The cameramen surrounded me, and that attracted a group of girls. One of them threw coffee at me. Others felt brave enough to start screaming at me, explaining why my relationship was fake and that Chan, well, you, didn’t really love me.” You let out a snicker, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Chris’ mind was working at full speed, immediately blaming himself for not knowing, for not noticing, for not doing anything else rather than what the company told him to do when netizens found out about your existence.

Deny, deny and deny. He lied his way through, but as the events were showing, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

He wasn’t enough.

You stroked his face lightly, waking him up.

“I’m okay, angel. I just happened to trip and fall in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and they didn’t care too much about me.” You smiled, sparing him the tale about how the girls started hitting you and throwing stuff at you, the cameramen stepping on you, either accidentally or on purpose. Chan’s eyes got teary when your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

You were in pain, in a hospital, just because of him? That felt… wrong. He loved you, so, so much. He needed to protect you, not just ignore the problem until it solved itself, even if he never knew what was happening in the first place. Guilt started spreading inside him, his chest tightening and his breathing speeding up in anxiety.

And that’s when he started thinking about the alleged master key that would end up being his fatal flaw.

That same night the doctors allowed you to go back home and told you to be careful and to take care of yourself. Chan had helped you, letting you use him for extra support on your way up to your apartment.

You melted on the sofa once you arrived, but you felt it in the tension that kept buzzing around you and your restless lover. You hesitated for a moment, but you could notice something was bugging him.

“Chan?”

He stopped in his tracks, but weirdly, he never turned to face you.

“…Is everything ok?”

You saw his posture tensing, turning to something bewilderingly defensive.

“No. Nothing is.” He breathed slowly, his insides trembling, his heart screaming in his head, telling him to stop talking.

You pouted, confused. “What are you-?”

“Can’t you see it?” His tone was aggressive.

Shut up.

“This isn’t going to work.” His posture was uneasy, he still didn’t- couldn’t look at you.

Shut up.

“Whatever we had isn’t worth this shit.”

God, Christopher, shut the fuck up.

Your lips trembled. ‘Whatever we had’? Shit. You felt sore, and you still smelled the coffee that girl had thrown at you. No. It wasn’t possible.

“I don’t believe you.”

Chan’s chest ached.

“Well, this is what’s happening. Believe it or not.” He turned restless again, still not daring to look at you, picking up the few things he had left in your apartment the past months. His hands trembled, his facade struggling to remain believable.

“Chan, wait.”

He quivered.

“Let’s talk about this. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is!”

“There’s no reason for us to end.”

He scoffed, his throat almost hurting.

“You’re clearly blind.”

“Did I do something wrong? We were fine yesterday. We’re ok, we-”

His hand gripped the doorknob as if it was going to wake him up from this nightmare. But this was real life, and he had to do it. For you.

Because that made sense.

What a fucking idiot.

“We’re far from ok.”

“Chan, please-“

“Nothing you can say will make me stay.” He said almost in a whisper, afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke too loudly.

Despite the advice you had received from the doctors, you lightly skipped your way to him, placing a hand on his forearm, your lips close to his ears. His breath hitched, and even if it was because that small contact was breaking him to pieces, you weren’t going to know anytime soon.

He had to leave now. Before the regret turned stronger.

“Chan.” You swallowed hard, your heart shattering to pieces. “If I can’t make you stay… just know I won’t leave. You know where I’ll be.” You stared at your hand as you slowly let go of him. You wanted to hug him, beg him to stay so bad. You wished to wake up from this nightmare soon.

Instead, you did what you thought was right.

“You have the choice, angel. Just… don’t be too late.”

God, he regretted every single part of it.

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

“Chan, what the fuck.”

Felix felt that sort of anger you could only achieve when being an empath. The ability to feel and comprehend his mate’s feelings allowed him to feel twice the anger when he wouldn’t just choose what was right from what was slightly easier.

“Hey, we said no judgement.” He sniffed, half of his face buried below the neck of your sweater.

It smelled like you.

Felix wanted to hit him. In the face. With a brick. Instead, he contented himself with one of Chris’ pillows.

“You.” hit “are.” hit “so.” hit “stupid!”

“Well, that shit ain’t new.” He mumbled, snatching the pillow away and laying on it.

“You are unbearable.” Lix hissed, much like a kitten would. “Go back to her once and for all, for fuck’s sake. I’m sure she’s been waiting for you all day.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not ready to fight it.”

“I don’t think you have a chance, at this point.”

“It’s whatever, Lix.”

“SHE- Ugh.” The rage the blonde was feeling felt surreal, his hands aggressively pulling his hair. “She came here to give you an ultimatum, Chan! You absolute buffoon, she’ll think you don’t love her!”

“That’s not-!”

“Then why are you not leaving?!”

“Maybe that’s what’s best for her?!”

“Oh, so now it’s about her?!”

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN!”

“SO LET HER CHOOSE!”

Silence filled up the room.

“Let her choose if she wants you or not.”

“And let her end up injured again?”

Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm down ��and failing—.

“We both know that those kinds of accidents are not that likely to happen.”

“But it did-“

“Shut up.” Felix’s stare could kill any living being within a 3-meter radius. “The 3-year dating ban is over. You can talk to the fans and to JYP about this shit.”

“Still-“

“Nuh-uh. You can make it work, this ain’t some Romeo and Juliet impossible love bullshit or whatever the fuck you’re thinking.” Felix got closer to Chan, his stance still confrontational.

“Never, ever use the ‘I’m doing it for her’ excuse again. Life isn’t some fucked up song where you let go people because you love them, Chris.”

Before he stormed out of the elder’s room, he threw clean clothes at him.

“Get your shit together, go get her, and I’ll think about making more brownies for you, you absolute fucking dummy.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

The door in front of him looked exactly the same as how he had left it. The bell sounded the same.

But you, you looked different.

Maybe it was because he felt so touch-starved that you kept glowing around him. You looked ethereal, so much that he was scared to touch you, scared that he’d wake up in his bed again.

“Does this mean you’re keeping it?”

He stared down. He was still wearing your sweater.

You smiled slightly. “It looks better on you anyways.”

He entered your apartment, and you stood behind him.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before?”

He turned around at you, your heart racing.

“Before what?”

“Before I choose to do something else instead of talking things first,” you mentioned, your gaze moving from his eyes and his lips.

He gulped, seeing you getting closer and closer.

“I…”

You took his arms and settled them on your waist, locking yours behind his neck.

“If we’re going to argue, we’re going to do it like this,” you said in a whisper. The light smell of his cologne surrounded you faster than you expected, and you loved it.

His eyes grew big in surprise. Quickly, his hands tightened his grip on your waist, moving them to your face in a sudden action.

“You’re… here.”

The weak tone he used made your insides churn.

“Chan…”

“Mmhm?”

Your hands travelled to his chest, slightly creating distance.

“Please stop before I kiss you,” you whispered. “If I do, I don’t think I could-“

He gave you a small peck, interrupting you. He giggled softly as your expression turned into a surprised one.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

“You look so pretty right now.”

You gasped, hearing his laugh.

“Don’t change the subject, mister!”

You both stood there, hugging each other, feeling like the nightmare was finally over. But Chan still had something to do.

“You don’t deserve what I put you through.”

Your hands caressed his back.

“That’s the excuse?”

“In my defence…”

“I’m listening.”

Chan dived even deeper in the crook of your neck, feeling content just by being in your arms.

“I forgot the excuse. I’m just sorry. I can’t even say it without feeling like a dick. I know it doesn’t make up for what I said or did. I couldn’t even look at you that day because I just wanted to stay with you, but I felt so bad. I love you so much I can’t stand it. I thought that maybe if I left… maybe I could save you.” His embrace tightened.

God, he missed you so much.

“I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken this..." he said in a huff.

“I know I couldn’t, and your stupid ass wouldn’t do anything about it.”

He took your face in between his hands, his eyes red.

“I told you there was no reason for us to end, dipshit.” You whispered, laughing as you kept on crying, your hands travelling up to his. “We’ll make it work.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, sighing.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but let out a smile, giving him another peck.

“…of course I’m here, idiot. I never left.”

~Kats, who you’ll most likely never see reading angst bc she’s a weak loser, yet here she is, stopping mid-writing cause she couldn’t see past her tears 🕳️👩‍🦯

ps: i wanted to mention @writer-in-the-dark-prompts bc i used some prompts from them and i think it’s a really cool blog!

#stray kids x reader #angst #stray kids angst #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #skz bang chan #chris bang #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids #stray kids felix #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #skz scenarios #skz stray kids

[saralovesyouu]

Helloo! I see your request are open, You can ignore this Request if this make you uncomfortable🌻

Can i Request Childhood-friends troupe with Ace or Deuce? (can both if you want)

Its can be Platonic or Romance, up to you!♡

I hope i didn't disturb you wait this Request and have a good day:D !

Childhood friends troupe with Ace and Deuce.

I had no idea if you wanted them to be separate or together, so I’m doing them separate (romantic). Hope that’s okay!

Also I am so so sorry about barely publishing this like a day later, I was out doing back to school shopping and pretty busy with things I’d rather kms than go back to school so yeah. I would’ve at least started writing this last night, but I was on the verge of falling asleep so I decided not to.

Also, gender neutral reader, I wasn’t sure what gender you wanted reader to be.

As always, this is proofread, and double checked for grammar mistakes. If there is anything I missed, please don’t come at me—English is not my first language..

Ace Trappola x reader

Deuce Spade x reader

Back to Heartslabyul masterlist <—

Ace Trappola as your childhood friend would include..

- You would have to keep him out of trouble, as it was shown in the first chapter he likes to pick fun at others and it could get him into trouble.

- Ace always helps you with your homework, he is smart, despite his carefree persona, and if you are ever struggling with any class he always helps you understand the topic you’re learning better!

- Ace being the little shithead he is loves playing pranks on you, it’s like the highlight of the day. But he will stop if you tell him to.

- I feel like his brother would tease the shit out of Ace sometimes, whenever you and Ace would visit him of course, like he’ll notice him trying to hit on you, and just calls him out on it in front of you. Ace swears he wants to strangle his brother..

- You know how his dad is good at performing card tricks? I feel like at least once when you two were kids, he would try to perform one of the same card tricks but failed. You would always like laugh and poke fun at him because he messed it up, but now that he’s older, he sometimes shows you the same card tricks when your upset and need cheering up and even though he knows the right way to do it, he messes it up just so that you could smile and laugh at him. He loves your smile but he’d never admit it out loud.

- Speaking of you being upset, since Ace has known you since you two were kids, he knows when you’re upset, you can’t hide it from him. He’s like a lie-detector when it comes to you.

- Ace as your childhood friend, trying to cheer you up, would most likely be him taking you with him to prank someone with him. He wants to see you laugh, but if you’re genuinely upset, and don’t want him to joke around—he’ll just let you lay in his arms and let you rant about whatever is bothering you.

- He is not the best comforter, I don’t know why. I feel like he gets kinda awkward and doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better, so the only thing he does do, is just sit there, hugging you and listen to you ramble about whatever is bothering you. He’s better at making you laugh than comforting you with words but don’t tell him that lmao.

- Ace probably can and will beat up anyone who dares to hurt you. Metaphorically, I mean. Like if someone made fun of you, or made you feel bad or uncomfortable. Unlike Deuce he won’t result to violence. He’ll make a total fool of them.

- I have a feeling he’ll get jealous if you flirt with Cater. He’d never admit it to you. Like I could see it.

“Hey, (Y/N), you and I should go to this new café I saw online, they say the ratings are high!” Cater exclaims, showing you the location on his phone. “Oh really?” you asked, peering over his shoulder to get a better look of the screen. “Yeah, you wanna come?” Cater asks again. “Like a date?” You snickered, looking over at Ace who was practically fuming. Cater knew what you were doing and played along. “Yeah, a date.” Cater smirked, hugging you close to him. Ace made a quiet ‘hmph!’ noise, crossing his arms. He paused for a few seconds, before marching right up to you, purposely shoving Cater away from you to sit in-between you. “That sounds great, mind if I tag along?” Ace asked, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Ace, honey, just admit your jealous.” Cater snickered, poking Ace’s side. Ace’s face flushed a bright red “I am not!”. Cater’s smirk only widens “So you don’t mind if I take them on a date?” Cater taunts, smirking at Ace. “I never said that!” Ace retorts, crossing has arms as he shifted his gaze to the floor with a huff. “C’mon it’s not that hard, just admit you like them.”

- Ace probably doesn’t realize his feelings for you until you both start attending school at NRC, when he sees you jokingly flirting with Cater, or spending too much time with someone who isn’t him, and he feels weird jealous—that’s when he realizes “oh you absolute dumb fuck your in love with them.” He feels so stupid for not realizing that he likes you sooner, despite him being a really smart person.

- Ace probably doesn’t like the idea of telling you he has feelings for you though. You’re his childhood friend! It’s like the basic, most often thought romance troupe!

- Poor baby makes it so obvious though, always trying to make you smile, pouting when you flirt too much with Cater, and just in general. You don’t tell him you know though to both save him the embarrassment of being so obvious and so he could build up the courage to tell you himself.

- Which never happens, so if you really want him to know you like him back, you’re gonna have to tell him.

Deuce Spade as your childhood friend would include..

- You would always try to keep him out of trouble, more like keeping him from getting into fights with people, making sure to somewhat keep him in line.

- I get the feeling that Deuce would help you with anything you needed. He’s not as smart as Ace, so he can’t help you with studying, but if Grim broke anything you need anything fixed, you can rely on him to fix it!

- Speaking of Deuce’s studying, I feel like he barely passes his classes, despite studying so hard to get good grades. So you and him have like little study nights in his dorm, where you help him try to not fail every class he and you both just study and prepare for exams or projects so that his mind doesn’t go completely blank, which definitely doesn’t turn into you two talking back and forth the whole time.

- Also, back to the fact the Deuce’s mom is a single mother, so I feel like as kids you would go over to help him help his mom around the house, if that makes sense? His mother loves you, and definitely made a joke of you being her future daughter-in-law.

- I don’t know why I feel like Deuce likes when you depend on him. Cause like, how he would always help his mom out with things so things would be easier for her, I feel like he’d do the same thing for you, cause he likes helping you out. Something about how he would like doing things for you just to help you out, or fixing things that Grim had broken, or helping you clean up around the dorm. This man’s love language just HAS to be acts of service.

- Deuce probably, if he failed another test again, he’d come to you for comfort. Watching him sulk as you hold him in your arms, complaining about how he worked so hard to just to fail yet again. Times like this, he insists on going to you, even if your busy, he’ll just lean his forehead onto the back of your shoulder and grumble something about not studying hard enough, and needing to study harder. Please assure him he did his best and that’s enough!

- I would think that Deuce is more of a comforter than Ace, in the sense that he’ll bluntly tell you what is what and how to fix it (ex. a toxic partner, he’ll just straight up tell you to put them in their place [beat ‘em up] and leave them). But that’s a good thing actually. If you just want him to listen though, that’s cool too! He could totally do that!!

- Anyone who dares to badmouth you, or insult you to your face—with him there, might I add—he won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of them tell them off.

- Adding onto that, Deuce would definitely try to fight them when you’re not around, frustratingly muttering how it wasn’t his fault, and they were practically asking for him to beat them up when they were talking badly about you. You had to beg Crowley to let him off the hook, or else you’d be dealing with a sulky Deuce if he got suspended.

- I get the feeling Deuce is very protective of you, always making sure you’re eating enough, staying hydrated, taking care of yourself. What? He can’t help it, you’re his friend afterall.

- He probably can’t tell when you’re upset, unlike Ace so you have to come to him and tell him.

- He cares a LOT about you, and he’ll make sure to show it. He’s such a sweetheart with you, honestly.

- Despite being extremely straightforward and blunt, I feel like if you tried to hint at your feelings for him, he’d be so oblivious—this dense mf, if you said something like “oh I like this guy with.. dark blue hair and terrible grades” this man will just be like “oh cool haha” he definitely isn’t jealous.

- I don’t think Deuce is a jealous guy I’m lying, I’m lying—he’s defo a jealous guy. AND HE WONT EVEN TRY TO HIDE IT?? Like again, if Cater is flirting with you as a joke, Deuce would be like “Sorry, I need them for the rest of the day, you cannot have them.”

- Cater probably asks him if he likes you, and Deuce would probably just go “no they’ve just been my friend since we were kids, it’s natural for me to feel like this.” is it really?

- But Cater eventually explains and manages to make Deuce realize that YES, he does in fact have feelings for you he’s just really dense.

- Deuce over analyzes this for DAYS, observing everything you do, trying to see if it’s okay to confess to you, he wants to. And he would but he just can’t stand one thing. Rejection. It makes his stomach churn. He would’ve if he actually managed to see the signs..

- Riddle once caught you trying to indirectly tell Deuce you liked him, he called you out on it.

“Aha.. so Deuce. Remember how I was telling you how there was this guy I liked?” you asked in the middle of an unbirthday party. “Yeah? You said he has dark blue hair right? And he has terrible grades?” Deuce confirmed, trying to think of who he knew that was like that. “They’re also incredibly dense.” you sigh. “Why? Have you told them your feelings yet?” Deuce asked, his heart sinking as he thought you might like someone else. “Yeah, I’ve hinted to him about my feelings but he doesn’t seem to catch on.” you grumbled. Deuce chuckled “He sounds stupid—“ “They’re talking about you, dimwit.” Riddle sighed, having enough of your pathetic attempts of trying to let Deuce see that you like him. Deuce then turns to you with a flushed face. “Is this.. true?” he paused, trying to look in your eyes for any signs of a lie. “Maybe..” you admitted, your own face flushed red. “If this “maybe” is a yes, then I like you too.” Deuce gives you a fond smile, making you even more flustered by his bluntness.

- Deuce is honestly a good friend to you, but the story is left for your imagination to continue. :)

(A/N) : My hands are hurting so bad it’s okay though, cause I needed to finish this before going to bed. I didn’t want you to think I refused this request. Which is also another thing, if I don’t respond to it the same day, it’s probably cause I’m a bit busy with things, but I’ll get to it before it can get to a few days of waiting. I hope you liked this! If you need anything changed lmk!

Okay but seriously send help my fingers are twitching and my wrists are cramping up.

#ace trapolla x reader #ace twst #ace x reader #ace trappola twst #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade twst #deuce x reader #deuce twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #saralovesyou writes

[dirtyvulture]

GP!Beefy!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Could you write something about reader deepthroating GP beefy nat? Maybe nat us really stressed and reader wants to help her relax

AN: Let’s start the New Year with a healthy dose of Beefy!Nat. 😉

"What’s wrong, baby?” you ask as Natasha slumps into the room, dropping her duffel bag to the floor. Her head hangs low and she says nothing as she walks over to the bed and flops down on the mattress next to you.

“Nat?” you say, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Just...work stuff,” she finally answers, her face still buried in the blankets.

You know her work is a touchy subject for her, and more often than not she’d rather just keep it to herself, no matter how much you tell her that her thoughts and opinions are safe with you. 

“Do you want...a distraction?” is all you can offer her. 

Natasha doesn’t respond at first, then flips herself over on the bed so she’s lying on her back. Your eyes immediately zone in on her bulge, and your mouth waters at the thought of having it in your mouth.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Natasha sighs, and it hurts you how genuinely upset she sounds.

“It’s okay, baby,” you assure. “If I can do anything to help, I want to.”

“Are you sure?” She sits up, her arms winding around your waist and pulling you closer so you’re perched atop her muscular thighs. 

“Always.” You lean in and kiss her softly. Despite her muscles, her line of work, and the cold, intimidating way she carried herself, your girlfriend was an absolute sweetheart. She always wanted the best for you and she always wanted to take care of the people closest to her.

But right now, it was your turn to return the favor and make her feel good.

You push Natasha back against the pillows and shift down to sit between her legs. You undo her belt buckle and pull down her pants, moving out of the way so she can kick them and her boxers off. Her cock twitches against her thigh as you stare at it hungrily, finally lowering your head to take the tip in your mouth and suck lightly.

Natasha moans, dropping her head back into the pillows. Her legs instinctively push further apart as you descend on her cock, determined to fit her entire length down your throat. No matter how many times you’ve done this, it’s still a challenge to take her all the way. 

“Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels like heaven,” Natasha pants, wrapping her hand in your hair and trying to push you down faster. You feel her veins throbbing in your mouth and you force yourself to relax, your eyes tearing up when you feel her poke the back of your throat.

You swallow around her, and Natasha bucks up into you, despite that she can’t thrust any more of herself into you. Her pre-cum shoots directly down your throat, and while you wish your taste buds extended back so you could taste her, you’re happy to milk her cock with your throat.

Her body flexes, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she uses all her impressive strength to hold herself back from destroying you. 

“Oh my God,” Natasha mutters over and over, looking down and loving the sight of you between her legs, your lips sealed around the base of her cock. 

She gives no warning before she cums, and there’s too much of it for you to swallow. You pull back when you can’t take anymore, wiping the corner of your mouth. Her cock is still hard and a darker color than before, glistening with your saliva, and clearly ready for another round.

Natasha motions you forward, her hands gripping onto your waist as she helps you lower yourself onto her cock and you ride her until she forgets about her stressful day.

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