#the colors do be trueing around here huh
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]
Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.
“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.
“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.
“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”
“Tim.”
With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.
“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.
“Huh? Class over?”
“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”
“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”
Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”
“Kind of?”
“Good enough for me.”
——
Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.
“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”
Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”
“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”
“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”
“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!
They were friends, right?
“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”
“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”
Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.
“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”
“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”
“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.
“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”
Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”
“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”
Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”
“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”
Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.
“He said yes.”
“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”
Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.
——
“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”
Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.
“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.
He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.
“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”
“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”
The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.
“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”
“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”
Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”
Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”
Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”
“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.
“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.
Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.
Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.
——
“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”
Bruce grunted.
“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.
Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.
“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”
“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”
“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.
Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.
#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards#he got his GED in this one boys#let Tim fucking age#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#dc x dp#dcxdp#dpxdc#danny the tired college student#bamf danny phantom#siren au???#sea cryptic Danny#bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work#terrible why do I do this to myself#the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself#Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days#sea cryptic! danny au
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ
feat: dazai, chuuya, fyodor
ꨄ˙ CW(s): gn! reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk)
ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: in which you drink too much and don't even realize that your boyfriend is your boyfriend or you might as well be drunk in love
in the dimly lit bar, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself swirling the remnants of a colorful cocktail, the room around you blurring as the night progressed.
DAZAI sits beside you, and couldn't help but notice your flushed-pink demeanor, fueled by the drinks you had consumed, and giggles to himself.
in your tipsy state, you tilt your head, looking at dazai with a playful suspicion. the room spun slightly, and you sway on your seat, trying to focus on his face.
"you know," you slur, "you're a suspicious stranger. i bet you've got some secret agenda." you point an accusing finger at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
dazai, amused by your playful accusations, couldn't help but giggle even more, "oh, do i now? well, i'm just a harmless 'stranger' who happened to find the most adorable drunk person in the entire bar."
you raise an eyebrow skeptically, still not recognizing him, "adorable, huh? well, mr. stranger-fanger, you're gonna have to prove it." you cross your arms, a challenging smirk on your flushed face.
dazai, seizing the opportunity, wraps his arms around you with a mockingly serious expression, "see? no danger here, just a guy who appreciates adorable drunks."
you broke into a fit of giggles, melting into his embrace, "well, you're not that bad for a stranger, i guess."
completely unaware that the 'stranger' was, in fact, your boyfriend, you continued to enjoy the whimsical dance of laughter and teasing, creating a memory that would undoubtedly be cherished in the days to come.
"i'm gonna be serious though, i am your boyfriend," dazai says to you.
you blink softly at him, your tipsy-drunk state had somehow lead you to look at him as such. dazai blinks back before a grin starts to tug on his lips.
"do i have to remind my dearest? well, then. buckle up because you're in for a treat!" he says before he instantly starts peppering your face in kisses as he holds you tightly.
you immediately start to squeal and giggle as you are reminded of the constant kisses that your boyfriend would give you admist the alcohol in your system.
"osamuuu!" you say in a soft whine before he pecks your lips.
dazai grins even more widely at your cute little whine as he cups your face now, "that's more like it. goodness, such an adorable drunk you are, hmm?"
CHUUYA watches with a mix of concern and amusement as your cheerful demeanor transformed into a tipsy state.
as the night wore on, chuuya decides it was time to take you home. he gently placed his gloved hand on your shoulder, trying to capture your attention, "hey, it's getting late. how about we head home?" he suggests, his voice warm and caring.
however, in your inebriated state, you misinterpreted the situation. you gasp sharply before you squirm in your seat and whine softly, "nooo, i'm having so much fun here! plus, you can't take me home! i have a boyfriend!"
chuuya was flabbergasted, but he couldn't help but chuckle at your resistance afterwards upon seeing this, "come on, baby, i'm not a stranger. i'm your boyfriend, and I just want to make sure you get home safely."
now it's you blinking softly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and innocence, "boyfriend? really?" you giggle, completely unaware of the true nature of your relationship.
"you're being so silly right now, i almost can't with you," chuuya sighs, still laughing softly, "geez, i didn't know my baby can be this forgetful with this much alcohol."
undeterred, chuuya continued to coax you gently, his amusement growing as you stare at him in awe as you begin to pat his cheeks in your warm hands, "this pretty face is all mine?"
chuuya chuckles again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he takes your hands in his before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on your lips and whispering, "i'm all yours, baby."
the night unfolded in a blend of laughter, warmth, and the endearing challenge of convincing you that the 'stranger' was, in fact, the person who cared for you the most, and you couldn't help but giggle even more into the kiss.
FYODOR observes your increasing intoxication with a measured gaze, a sense of concern clouding his usually composed demeanor.
as the night unfolds, you continued to enjoy the array of drinks that nikolai had generously provided you two. fyodor, recognizing the potential consequences, decided it was time to intervene. he places a hand gently on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
"dear, perhaps it's time to slow down," fyodor suggests, his voice calm and measured as he tries to get you to stop.
you looked at him with a tipsy grin, oblivious to the fact that fyodor was your boyfriend, "but nikolai is just being generous. no harm in a few more, riiight?"
fyodor's piercing gaze held a mixture of concern and determination, "i'd rather not see you regretting this tomorrow. let's enjoy the night responsibly," he insists, attempting to guide you away from the tempting allure of more drinks.
however, in your intoxicated state, you resisted his efforts, misinterpreting his intentions, "oh, come on! live a little, stranger!" you playfully tease, unaware that fyodor was the person you were romantically involved with.
fyodor couldn't help but hide a small smile at your playful antics, though he inwardly feels a twinge of sadness at being referred to as a stranger, maintained his composure.
he observes you with a subtle sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that betrayed the depth of his feelings. still, he wasn't one to give up easily.
with a gentle touch, he cupped your face, making you meet his gaze, "remember, i'm the one who cares deeply for you," he murmurs with a faint smile, his eyes staring in yours.
"i may be a stranger in this particular scenario, but i am not to you," fyodor replies softly, realizing that your drunken state was proving to be a barrier. yet, he didn't relent.
the realization began to dawn on you, your intoxicated mind slowly connecting the dots, "wait a minute... you care about me? really?"
fyodor nods, his eyes holding a mixture of hope and longing, "more than you can imagine."
you blink softly, still processing the situation through the haze of alcohol. before you could react, fyodor leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss against your lips. the touch was tender yet filled with an unspoken depth of emotion, an attempt to bridge the gap that had momentarily separated you.
as the kiss unfolded, a subtle warmth spread through you, and the fog of intoxication seemed to lift momentarily. the taste of familiarity mingled with the hint of sadness, creating a poignant moment that transcended the blurred boundaries of the night. fyodor then pulls away, his gaze searching yours for any signs of recognition.
there was a pause, a moment of suspended realization. slowly, your eyes widened, and a spark of recognition flickered within them. "wait," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and clarity as you smile. "you're not a stranger, only my fedya kisses me like that!"
a soft smile tugged at the corners of fyodor's lips as the weight of being called a stranger lifted. the kiss had served as a catalyst, a bridge that connected the fragments of memory scattered in the alcohol-induced haze.
"my, my, how could you forget your fedya, dear?" fyodor sighs, shaking his head before he kisses your lips again and whispers, "traitor.."
ꨄ˙ A.N.: i feel like i might have written fyodor in an ooc-ish way, and if i did, i apologize !! haven't written for him in so long and i don't write for him as often as dazai and chuuya. this is also kinda silly i think now that i've finished writing this lol !! thank you so much for reading until the end (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#fyodor x reader#bsd fluff#bsd imagines#bsd scenarios#bsd fanfic#bsd oneshot#fyodor dostoevsky x reader#fyodor x y/n#fyodor x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#bungo stray dogs imagines#bungo stray dogs headcanons#dazai fluff#chuuya fluff#fyodor fluff#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd hcs
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Grian pauses, turns around, walks back over to BigB, and squints at him.
"Hey, wait. Why are they red?"
"What?" BigB says, shoving his old secrets into his bag.
"They're red! I saw them!" Grian says. "That's the wrong color? Everyone's tasks are on normal parchment. Why are they red?"
"No they aren't," BigB lies.
"Yes, they are, I can see them," Grian says.
"Maybe parrots are colorblind," BigB says. "They're definitely not red. They're... normal-colored. Maybe your tasks are the ones that are the wrong color."
"What? No, I would know what color the tasks are supposed to be. They're supposed to be on normal parchment, I swear! I don't know why yours are red!"
"And I told you, there are no red tasks here. Are you feeling okay?" BigB says, knowing full well he didn't hide them perfectly in his bag, but in too deep to not keep committing now.
"What are you doing," whispers Grian. "What is wrong with you."
"I don't know, man, you're the one who keeps on showing up and yelling at me," BigB says.
"Look, they're just--why are those the wrong color?"
"I'm just saying. Maybe you're the only one who has them on a color that isn't red. If my tasks are red. Which they aren't!"
Grian throws his hands in the air. "And I told you, I'd know what color the tasks the Secret Keeper hands out are, wouldn't I?"
"I mean, I don't know. Why would you?" BigB asks.
Grian freezes in place.
"If you're so certain you know what color the tasks the weird god-statue hands out are, like, how? You're just as trapped here as the rest of us, right?"
"I just do," Grian says. "You know how I. You know. I'm supposed to help enforce the rules. So I just--"
"Nah, don't worry about it, I just wanted to see what you'd try to say for an answer," BigB says magnanimously. "I know why you know."
"...you do?" Grian says weakly.
"I mean, yeah. I was there too, Grian. I don't know why even the guys watching tend to forget I know about them. Hey, maybe that's why my task is red! Because I knew people would see it! Of course, that would only be true if it were red. It's not though. You should really work on that."
Grian stares. He looks oddly shaken. "Huh," he says.
"Is that all? Because, like, I have more doors to build," BigB says.
"You are the most deeply confusing person I know," Grian says, but it sounds more like a compliment than something meant to be upsetting. BigB decides it's fine to leave it be, especially since Grian's voice is oddly flat in the way it gets when he's considering whether or not to ruin everything. BigB figures it's best to stay out of his way when he gets like that. He also knows how impossible it actually is to stay out of the way, but hey. That's just how life goes sometimes.
Instead, he goes back to digging tunnels, waving as he goes to Grian, to the Secret Keeper, and to you.
#secret life smp#secret life spoilers#bigbst4tz2#grian#a bee fic#SO ANYWAY. HMMMM. HIS TASK WAS RED AGAIN THIS WEEK HUH.#albeit while still being a normal task#so this is just... one possible poke at why that's happening#he also takes the opportunity to gaslight grian about it because of course he does.
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BURNING DESIRE
STEPDAD!JOEL x F!READER
SUMMARY : after all Joel did marry your mother, but she was oblivious to the motive behind it. Not silly love, it’s was you. It was always you, His sweet little stepdaughter.
WARNINGS : age gap (reader is early 20’s Joel’s late 30’s), dark!joel, perv!joel, step-cest, oral (f receiving), boob play, pet names, fingering, overstimulation, daddy kink, manhandling, mutual pinning, established relationship, (This is Short, sorry my loves )
JOEL MILLER WASN’T A EVIL PERSON, NO. HE WAS JUST CALCULATED. A very smart man, seemingly very stoic but once you break past the multi layered concrete you’d find someone that you’d never want to leave. Maybe that’s what enthralled your mother to jump into marriage so quickly, she truly believed he was deeply in love with her and she was he. She believed that she just happened to meet a professor at your college whom was single and yearning for the domestic things in life, but she was so utterly wrong.
To Joel miller, well he had found an in. One that allowed him full access to you, free to stare, free to do whatever he imagined without having to worry about a college or a student noticing the way he seemed to linger on you. After all, it was no accident that day when he and your mom “crashed” into each other.
So here he was now, arms crossed over his chest, Dress shirt screaming at the push from his large arms. The older man staring sternly at you as you sat on your bed promptly ignoring him. “I told your mother we’d meet her there.” Joel persisted and you huffed rubbing the heel of your palm over your eyes.
Your mother wasn’t your favorite person, she was money hungry, and self absorbed. She tried to claim she loved you, even more attempting to smother you after your father desperates this life a few years ago but time after time her true colors would peer through the blinds. So sitting at a dinner with her and her husband wasn’t something you’d like, especially if your step fathers brother/business partner was gonna be there. Your mother seemed to love his company…
Joel wasn’t dull he knew his wife likes his brother. But he also knew his brother wasn’t like that.
“Why can’t I just stay here? Tommy’s gonna be there and he’s good company.” You shrugged and Joel’s jaw clenched as he dropped his arms. “But I want ya’ there sweetheart.” Your heart raced as he walked closer to you, doe eyes looking up at him as his rough hand gripped your jaw angling your face upwards. “You just want attention huh?” Joel cooed before he bent down pressing his lips against your plush ones.
“I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled as Joel pulled away, his brows raising as he crouched in front of you. He tossed the sheet off your legs angling your legs to the side of the bed, Your knees level with his neck. He tilted his head placing his hands on your knees as you were only in a pair of white cotton shorts with a tiny pink flower in the front center right under your belly button, and a plain pink tank top. He eyed the way your nipples imprinted the fabric of your thin tank top.
“Y’know what I mean baby.” Joel stated, his voice a bit lower. “If ya didn’t you wouldn’t be reactin’ like you are.” His hand slid up grazing your clothes nipple and you sucked in a breath. “If I give you somethin’ you promise you’ll get dressed after?” He was smirking, because he knew how to make you comply. You demeanor had changed from refusing to go to nodding with vigor whilst looking at your step-father.
His large rough hands slid up your thighs leaving goosebumps in its wake as his hands reached your shorts. He stood up hands grasping your waist as you tossed you further up the bed, a light giggle escaping your lips that made him smile as he climbed between your legs. Your heart rate was through the rough as he pulled your shorts and panties down in one go tossing them somewhere around the room.
He watched as your chest heaved and he yanked your tank top down letting your breast spring free and he groaned as he ground his hips into the bed to relieve some pressure. He leaned up taking a nipple into his mouth and your head lulled back with a whimper that turned into a light moan when his teeth grazed it. He pulled away pinching your other nipple before he lowered himself between your legs. Groaning at the mess of slick in your folds.
“Baby’s already wet f’me.” You nodded as he kissed your inner thighs, so close to wear you want him. “Word’s.” Joel muttered biting your inner thigh before soothing it with his tongue. “Just f’you daddy.” It escaped your lips and Joel nearly moaned at the way you said it, his hips moved on the mattress getting some relief as he finally flattened his tongue and licked a thick harsh stripe up to your clit.
You hands pulled at his hair as you moaned. Joel had quickly lost himself between your legs, it was supposed to be a little treat but it quickly just became a frenzy. His tongue dipping into your tight hole as You writhed. His arms were locked under your thigh pushing your stomach down not giving you much room to move. “s’good- mmgh”
Joel sucked your bundle of nerves harshly before, letting his tongue trace it before his hang slipped lower and his thumb pressed on your clit pulling up lightly, watching as you held onto your breast absentmindedly pinching and pulling at your nipples, before he returning to sucking and you felt tears brim your eyes as your abdomen felt hot. “D-daddy.” You whined as his other hang slid up between your boobs and both of your hands grabbed onto his larger one.
“I know baby, your bein’ so good f’daddy.” He mumbled as he used the pad of his tongue to lick down towards your weeping hole. His free hand that you were holding coming down as he poked at it with his index finger. Your hips jerked and you whimpered. “Gotta get you ready for later princess, ya’ want that hm?” You nodded eagerly but moaned loudly when you felt his thick finger enter inside you. Joel himself moaning at how warm and tight your walls were, barley just accepting his one finger he could only image what his cock would feel like inside of you.
He was so tempted to just fuck you after this but he didn’t wanna raise any flags. His finger pumped in and out of you and he already felt the way you clenched down on his one finger, your cries only spurring him on. Without warning he pushed his middle finger inside of your hole that was pouring arousal. The stretch was a sweet burn but quickly became just sweet as Joel’s mouth went back on your clit and his fingers pumped deeply inside of you.
He curled his fingers upward and you let out a particularly loud moan as the coil tightened in your stomach and heat slowly started to build up. “P-please- mgh. Daddy I’m g-“ Joel only sped up watching as your face contorted into pleasure. Mouth open with harsh breaths and brows furrowed. He curled his fingers up and sucked on your bundle of nerves watching as your orgasm hit you.
As he fucked you through your orgasm you were sure you blacked out for a minute. The pleasure washed over your body making your head push further into your pillow as you babbled incoherently. When you finally came down from jumping multiple feet in the air you felt Joel’s mouth still on your clit, his fingers still inside of you and your thighs attempted to close. Only to be cut short by his strength. “Daddy s’to much- m-“ you were unable to form a coherent sentence as Joel kept going, seemingly In a trance.
Tears started to fall down your cheeks as you yanked on his hair attempting to push him back but not outwardly telling him to stop, the pleasure being to enjoyable. “Gimmie one more baby.” His voice was raspy as he lifted his head only for a second before returning back to his place between your thighs pulling his fingers from your slick full hole. His fingers covered in your arousal as he smeared it over your clit, hearing your whimper of emptiness.
His hand slid up your neck and his finger tapped your bottom lip letting you taste yourself while he used his tongue to make you cum again.
Before you reached dinner you had already came three times, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle later.
thanks for reading <333
if you wanna be tagged just lmk and message me with requests I’m happy to write mostly everything <33
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel the last of us#stepdad joel miller#tlou x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#joel x reader#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller x you#joel miller drabble#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#the last of us smut#the last of us imagine#the last of us fic#tlou show#tlou smut#the last of us one shot
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ballroom extravaganza
minatozaki sana x f!reader || cont. of fake and true ! pt.3 here
synopsis: you scored the date with the girl from the bar, things are shaping up for the better (maybe/maybe not), and your cousin mina is starting to raise some suspicions.
warnings: fluff ; smut!! ; sana giving/recieving ; reader recieving/giving ; fucking in the car/office/bedroom (freaky deaky) :D ; sana being needy ; sana praising ; cursing ; anything else i didn't let y'all know ; might be proofread
a/n: dang y'all really like sana don't ya? (bias wrecking me ill never recover) hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as the first one!
you’re basically jumping out of your own skin when you hear the knock on your door, and twirl around to see the bedside clock.
8:29
a minute early. you’d be impressed to keep the hefty lunch in your stomach to not vomit it out.
“coming!” you cry out, before taking a second to fuss with your current appearance. you played it simple, the flashiest part of the red dress that shuhua loaned you. like the black one, it’s slim-fitting and short, the neckline cutting above the swell of your breasts. your lips are a stained deep red, just to match. tzuyu always said to you that the color was striking for you to pull off.
after straightening the dress, you step out of your room and walk towards the entryway of the door, taking a second to toe on your black pumps. and then, with a steady exhale, you open the door.
sana stands on the other side of it, one hand in her pocket of your black slacks and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that she promptly shoves at your chest. you take them, cradling to your body, and look up to find her already gazing at you, eyes raking from the top of your head and down. again and again.
“hey.”
“hi.” you smile at her. “these are really beautiful, thank you.”
sana jerks her head in acknowledgement, and you can see the faintest flush of pink spreading to the tips of her ears. you bite your lip as you set the flowers down, staving off the rare urge to giggle.
she’s still standing by the door, holding her arm out. “so are you ready to go?”
you take it, curling a hand around her bicep, letting her lead you out. “please.”
—
“alright,” sana says, laying her menu flat on the table, staring at you with grave seriousness. “speak.”
“huh?” you look away from the giant, crystal chandelier hanging above you two. the restaurant she’d take you to was only slightly less fancier than the one at the four seasons hotel.
slightly.
“i can tell you want to say something.”
you smile nervously. “yeah, about your driving, maybe. i thought we were gonna—”
“y/n.” she says firmly; it has the same affect as dumping a bucket of ice water over your head. “no bullshit. you might as well say what you wanna say.”
“fine.” and this is easy to sink into, your mode of no-nonsense: the compartmentalization of what stresses you. “why did you give me the money?”
“because i wanted to.”
“i know, but why? did you feel bad for me?”
“a little.”
you grit your teeth. “did you pity me?”
“no.”
“then what?”
“i’ve been in your position before. kind of.”
“what do you mean.”
“struggling college student, a shitty job, caming from harebrained ways to get money. everyone who’s gone on the path to grad school, doesn’t matter if it’s med, law, blah blah blah whatever, knows how fucking hard it is to survive.”
your cheeks flush from sana’s words, picking at the white table cloth. “so you empathized with me?”
“basically.” sana says, sitting back in her chair, smiling at you. your eyes follow along the lazy draw of it. “i didn’t expect you to be so difficult about it.”
“it’s not like it’s common to give strangers hundreds of dollars within an hour of meeting them. forgive me for being concerned.”
“do you still want to give the money back to me?” sana asks.
“yes.”
“okay. then let’s change the subject.” diverting to the basic cookie cutter icebreaker in existence. “what are you majoring in?”
“sana—”
she reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing it slightly. dazzling brown eyes swallow up your field of vision as she leans into you. “what are you majoring in?”
you bite your tongue. you don’t want to relent into sana’s charms; mina would have your head if she knew that sana was running away with it. but she’s making it so so easy, smiling when you answer, “i’m finishing up my bachelor’s in child education. aiming to get my masters in child’s psychology.”
“you like kids?”
“yeah,” you reply, visibly softening to sana. “last summer i did my internship at a local kindergarten and i love it. kids are…easy in a way that people aren’t.”
“what do you mean?”
“they don’t expect anything from you. not anything beyond food or water or playtime. you know, nothing super sophisticated or adult. and they’re easy to talk to. they don’t care what you say to them or if you don’t talk much in general. they’re not judgy and it’s nice.” you hit that right out of the ballpark, and sana stares with lips parted as the facts are laid out for you.
“i’ve never thought about them that way,” she says, her hand shifting atop your own. her thumb skims across your knuckles. “it sounds nice.”
your heart thrums like a hummingbird against the walls of your chest. every languid caress pulls a shiver from you. “you don’t like kids?”
“i don’t dislike them. i’m neutral, i guess. i know i’d like to have my own.” sana replies.
“do you have any siblings?”
“nope. i’m an only child.”
“i would’ve never guessed,” you say dryly.
“ha! has anyone told you you’re funny?” sana inquires, and you’re stifling a laugh while she’s smiling at you, gaze fond. “what about you?”
“well, i’m an only child.” you reply. normally you’d leave it at this. you don’t really like the notion of getting into the nitty-gritty of your past, but sana’s presence robs any reticence from you. “my parents passed when i was younger so i was raised by my aunt and her cousin.”
“oh.” sana slips her fingers into the spaces of your own and squeezes gently again. “i’m so sorry.”
“it’s okay,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “it happened when i was little. i’m kind of accustomed to it now.”
“can i ask you a question?”
“a personal one?”
the corner of sana’s mouth quirks. you want to trace it with your fingers.
“if you were in that desperate of a situation, why didn’t you ask her for help?”
“i can’t afford to take any money from my aunt or cousin. she can’t afford it.”
“did you try asking?”
“i’m not saying she would’ve said no. but if she tried, i wouldn’t have accepted it.”
“sounds startlingly familiar.”
you pull your hand from hers with a smile and an eye roll before picking up the menu in front of the table, raising it up high enough to cover sana’s face.
“can we order something now?”
—
when you get back in the car, you’re warm, languid with a stomach full of risotto and red wine. sana’s hand rests on the gear shift between you, the other one on her wheel. you like watching the motion of them as she drive, like the curls of sana’s knuckles and the rasp her palm makes against the wheel when she turns it. you wish to feel the warmth of it against your leg.
well, in a city like new york, it’s nothing more than unpleasant.
“you know i wasn’t kidding when i told you that you’re a horrible driver.”
“do you own a car, y/n?”
“i usually take the subway.”
“okay. pro-tip if you ever do drive in these streets, better to be offensive than dead. or stuck in traffic for two hours. which, believe it or not, is fucking worse.”
but despite sana’s words, she seems to listen to you. the drive stretches longer, and you lean into the plush leather seats as you stare out the window, dreading the sight of every familiar building, the street signs that you know lead to your apartment. for a moment, you debate asking to get ice cream, or go to the park, a movie theater–-anything and everything to extend this. you don’t want to leave the pleasant warmth of her car.
“y/n?”
you look over to see her smile. “i thought you were asleep.”
“i’m not tired.”
she takes her hand off the gear shift, thumbs a lock of your hair without breaking your gaze. unwavering.
“neither am i.”
when she pulls into your squat, little apartment complex, you’re gripping the edge of your seat, nails squeaking against the buttery leather. she smoothly pulls into an empty space, parking backwards—what a show off—-before turning to you. with as huddled into the seat as you were, her hand is behind the headers, arm bracketing you, you feel consumed. surrounded by her scent, in her car, the engine humming beneath them, with her so close. you can’t breathe without inhaling her.
sana’s noticed it too. her eyes have gone dark, swallowed by her pupils.
“i had fun,” she says.
“me too.”
her mouth twitches. “you gonna try giving me the money back now?”
you jolt at the reminder, bending to snatch you purse, but sana’s hand flies from her headrest to your hand, hot over your knee.
“i was kidding. i don’t want it back. i don’t need it.”
“sana—”
“y/n.” she interrupts firmly. “i don’t need it. and in my opinion, i think you can do a hell of a lot more.”
your defenses waiver before they crumble completely, and you feel your chin wobble. to your horror. “you’re too nice to me.”
she grabs it, pressing her thumb into the plush of your bottom lip. your stomach clenches as sana’s eyes flicker down, anticipation making your headlight.
“i don’t think i’m nice enough,” she whispers, but it barely registers. you’re already reaching for her, mouth open to beg; hand on her wrist, and she meets you half-way, swallowing your muted please.
sana’s kiss is desperate, intense like the rest of her. one hand buried in your hair while the other presses against your knee, a searing, overbearing heat that sinks into your insides, coiling tingly in the pit of your gut. despite your furious protestations to tzuyu, you haven’t felt this in a while, the wet-warmth of another mouth against your own, the life of someone else’s tongue, opening you up further.
you press closer, so frantic you almost climb over the armrest, but sana pushes you back down to your seat. she breaks away from your mouth to kiss down the line of your throat, flicking her tongue out to taste your overheated skin, smiling when you sigh. your hips jerk beneath her hold when she sucks at your pulse point.
she grins, teeth nipping at your jawline. “you like that, sweetie?”
there’s a shock-wire running from the heat of her mouth to her clit. sana’s barely touched you and you’re already keyed-up, on the cusp of euphoria. if you touched yourself now, you’d be so far gone, but you’re not sure she’d let you.
sana returns to kissing your throat, pausing to suckle at it with teeth and tongue, laving it against your skin in soft, wet strokes. she uses the hand in your hair to tilt your neck towards her, directing you like a puppet on strings. her other hand roves up and down your exposed thigh in gentle motions, more exploratory than anything, as if she can’t keep from touching you. and the thought sends a jolt of electricity to pass through you, sparking between your legs. it makes your hips can’t, makes the desperate need for friction a burying, voracious thing, primed to consume you.
when she kisses the swell of your bottom lip, it comes out of you in a breathless pant, nails biting the seat. “p-please touch me.”
“where?” sana asks, thumbing the hem of your dress, close enough to be a physical pain. “where, baby? here?”
“n-no.”
“then where, y/n?” your eyes are black, eager with predatory intent, and you hate how much you love it; the consuming weight of her attention, like she wants to eat you whole.
without much coronation, you take sana’s hand and shove it between your thighs, spreading them wide. you’re initially afraid that she’ll keep teasing you, that she’s lost in the power trip, but she surprises you when she groans and kisses you roughly, fingers tracing up your slit.
“so fucking wet you are,” sana raps when she breaks away, almost crazed. she dips her hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the sensation of her fingers against your sensitive skin sending your eyes rolling. your hips buck, demanding delicious friction, and she surges in, laughing into your mouth.
“you can cum just like this, can’t you?” she asks, voice rumbling against your cheek. her thumb slides up and down the seam of your cunt, the heel of her palm adding the barest pressure to your clit, but it’s good. the mere taste of it almost enough to send you over the edge, just for the sweet torture.
her knuckles pull against the gusset of your panties as two of her fingers center over your clit. her pace at first is light, slow, exploratory like the way it’d been on your leg. her eyes on your face are focused. she wants to know what’ll take you to the edge, and you know it isn’t this. so you grab sana’s wrist and raise your hips to force pressure.
“faster,” you pant, liquid gaze cutting to her. “h-harder. i like it–”
she steals the words from you, kissing again with a mouth full of bite. the motions of sana’s fingers quicken, slide down to the tease of your e trance while you grind frantically into her palm. you’re so wet you easily accept the glide of her first finger, and when she pushes in the second, the stretch is sweet, a welcome thing. you thrust onto them, wishing vainly that she’d toss you into the backseat and fuck you with something more.
the thought makes you clench around her, and she curses loudly, burying her face into your sweaty neck.
“are you always this depsrate when you’re getting fucked?” sana hisses, thrusting her fingers into you harder, without relent. “you always feel this good?”
you choke out a sob, feeling the familiar swoop in your belly, the swelling tide that welcomed euphoria. as you clutch her wrist, chasing it, sana rests her head atop your shoulder, her voice going soft, reverent.
“you’re so good, y/n,” she says in a frantic stream, mad with want. “so good. so, so fucking good. my perfect girl.”
you keen when it washes over you, that white-hot heat that robs you of sense. you shudder beneath sana’s grip, clutching her wrist as you ride it out. she helps you come down from it, kissing you languidly and keeping her pace inside you slow. when you can breathe again, she pulls them out of you. you flush hotly when she sticks her fingers in her mouth, but the embarrassment doesn’t linger long. you surge toward her, hands flying towards the button of her pants. meets her in another frantic kiss.
“i wanna make you feel good now,” you whisper, palming her. “i want—”
sana uses her hand in your hair to bind you up against her and kisses you again, long and full enough to make the words melt from your tongue. you’re hazy when she pulls away, pliant.
“i think,” she says. “that there’s always next time.”
“next time?”
“next time,” sana repeats, rubbing your cheek with her thumb. “it’s late anyway. you should go to bed.”
“oh,” you say blankly. “okay.”
sana kisses you again, twice on your nose, before leaning over to open your door. you stumble out of her car, binding your purse tight against your chest. you wave at her from the entrance of her building before you step inside, and see the shadow of sana’s hand as she waves back, driving off. when she turns onto the street, you rush inside, a hot, sharp balloon swelling in your chest.
your hands shake when you slot the key into your door and turn the knob, switching on the lights. you kick your shoes off and toss the purse onto the couch, moving on muscle memory. you can’t think beyond the warm, floaty haze that’s clouded your mind, and when you shut the door behind you, you laugh.
over and over. carelessly. all the while remembering the firm grip of sana’s hand and the scent of her, clogging your nose even now, a smell you want to bottle up and keep.
next time, you think, giddy, nearly dancing in the small space. she said there’d be a next time.
just then, you hear the high trill of your phone and dart to the couch, yanking open your purse to fish it out. you flush a pink when you notice the notification next to sana’s name– a text that reads, goodnight- and as you go to type your response, another notification pops up. one from venmo.
a cold spike of adrenaline shoots through you when the app opens, fingers trembling. you almost drop your phone entirely at the number attached: $1,000 dollars.
“for school,” it reads.
your breath quickens. the hot balloon in your chest expands and expands until it pops, a physical pain against your ribcage.
i thought— your eyes burn. the realization sinks into your like molasses. i thought she—
the night you met sana, she expressed concern when she learned why you were there. she’d condemned jihyo and implied that you deserved something more, something better. she’d left you money as a gift, to be kind.
a gift, sana told you. you don’t owe me anything.
so why is it, then, that you have the distinct impression that jihyo had been simply outbid.
—
you’re thinking about next time. sana said that there’d be a next time.
that next time would come, then twice.
then a third.
and after.
the day after that, and the day even after that.
the room is reverberating the echoes around you, loud with the sounds of heavy pants and wet slaps of skin. you’re clinging to the sheets beneath you, pushing yourself up, moving your hips to meet the frantic pace of sana's fingers curled up inside you. sana then buries a hand into your hair and hitches you up for a kiss that never takes. it’s broken quickly, leaves both of your swollen mouths parted and breathing of each other’s oxygen. you’re relishing the intimacy of the moment.
when the building pressure at the base of your stomach grows to become too overwhelming, you fall back on the mattress, unmoored without sana’s presence, but she follows you as she always does. she’s binding her arm around your waist and raises you up, hand cupping your cunt while she’s all over your neck again.
“c’mon,” sana says, voice wrecked, torn from her. “c’mon, honey, one more.”
you gave sana the opportunity to sit on her face earlier, brown eyes flashing dark and predatory at you while you grind all over her mouth. the hot curl of her tongue relentless against you, reducing you to a living nerve ending. sana wrung out two splintering orgasms out of you, flipping you on your back before you could even recover. you loved it, and you still do, seeing all the ways that you can challenge sana.
her slender fingers dip down to your clit again and causes you to moan loudly, rocking into her as she circles it firmly: rough, fast motions that she’s learned that you love. to bring you back to that edge quick.
sana kisses you again, her other hand slipping to your breast above and squeezing. she’s groaning into your core, it’s making you fall deeper into the madness of your situation.
“you’re so—” she barely mumbles out, her hand on your breast slides down to clamp the divot in your hips. sliding the pillow under the arch of your back in one seamless motion. she’s too good with her hands. “fucking unreal, and perfect.”
her mouth against your other mouth starts the chain reaction. you’re moaning out more strain behind it. a star-burst of affection igniting in your chest. sana continues to swipe her tongue, the unyielding pressure that makes your vision swimmy, and you let go.
you’re sobbing out while your hands are trying to find what’s left of the comforter as ecstasy steals over you. sana continues to drive her fingers and tongue into you, letting you feel it: in the air, at the base of your throat, between the rapid, uneven pacing of thrusts from her fingers. when you’re all tuckered out, the clenching fading out from your cunt, soaked with slick while it gets on different parts of your skin; from the leg, to one of your obliques, to the small peak of your boob.
“o-okay, that’s e-enough.”
“you taste so fucking good,” sana murmurs, mouth hot against the column of your neck. her hands trailing up and down your stomach. “when you clench around my fingers is just—”
fucking shit this woman. “sana, please.”
she sits up with a chuckle, and you’re at the same level too, instantly resting your head on her shoulder, kissing it. sana wraps her arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, her fingers are tapping away at the v-line. you look up and she kisses you, grinning with delight.
“will you stay over?” you ask, too plaintive when she pulls away. sana’s smile falters and you feeling the realization, disappointment inbound.
“i can’t.” a spike lances through you. “my department has a meeting early in the morning. i can’t skip.”
“oh.” you hate yourself for being upset—she’s a doctor, of course she’s busy—but the feeling rises up anyway, along with the insidious notion that she’s gotten what she wanted and so has little use for you now. without thinking, you start to drift away from sana in slow little increments that she catches, and she pulls you up tight against her, pressing her lips to your hairline.
“i wish i could say,” sana whispers. “if it were up to me, i’d be here with you everyday.”
the words are cruel, considering what they are–what you are—but the pain is stamped down. masking it with teasing. “how would you work then?”
“i’m sure my supervisor could find someone else to fill my place. someone as equally ecstatic to dig their hands into some guy’s intestines.”
“you’re so…casual when you talk about your job.” you say out of respite.
“are you worried?” sana asks.
“no.” answering while tracing fingers across sana’s chest, over her still-racing heart, before tapping her chin. “but it makes me wonder if i should be.”
“is the child psychology major going to psychoanalzye me right now? when i’m twenty-nine years old nearing thirty?”
“you know the issues of childhood can be far-reaching. you never stop feeling the effects of it.”
“incredible.” you laugh when sana dips her head and takes your finger in her mouth, biting it gently. “but i’ve always been this way.”
“which is?”
a half-feral grin spreads across sana’s face before she abruptly flips you over. you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you, long and slow, and settles over you. she breaks away, still grinning. “crazy about you.”
you’re flushing hotly, which makes her bark out a delighted laugh, and sana kisses you again. over and over and over. her lips trail from your fluttering eyelids to the tip of your nose to your chin, every nook and cranny of your face that she can reach. when her lips meet yours again, you can taste the sugar on her tongue.
“god, i wish i could stay,” sana rasps, breaking away, and you cling onto her.
“then stay.”
“if i did, i’d have to leave at 5 to get ready at my apartment in order to be at the hospital on time. also you have an early class tomorrow. chances are i’d wake you up and you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.”
your jaw tightens, and teeth catch your tongue. you don’t want to accuse sana of making excuses, because you know she’s right; it’s happened before. and that’s what burns you, the idea that your angst could have no standing. the operating off of your injured feelings and nothing substantial. this is transnational after all.
“okay.” you say, coolly. “guess this is goodbye then.”
“bye y/n.” sana says, kissing your mouth. “goodnight.”
sana kisses you several times, smothering you in affection. she only stops after you simple, nipping at your nose once before rising off the bed. you watch as sana peels away off the bed, walking around your room, picking up her clothes from the floor and pulling them on. when she’s done, she strides over to you and slides a nick of your hair back, kissing your forehead.
“i’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“okay.”
sana ducks down, skating her nose along the edge of your hairline, keeping her mouth close to your ear. “i’ll see you later.”
you move your head and catch sana’s lips. against them, whispering. “mn, see you later.”
you notice with some satisfaction that sana’s eyes are fevered as she pulls away, dark with wanting, and you shove your face back into the pillow, clinging to it. sana mutters a soft curse and makes her way to the door, only to immediately jam the knob when she goes to close it. she mutters a curse again, much louder.
“just give it a little wiggle,” you say, sitting up. “it gets a little tight sometimes when you twist it.”
“how long has it been like this?”
“since i got the apartment.”
“what the fuck?!” sana exclaims. “did anything else come broken?”
“sometimes the water pressure in my shower is really low.”
“jesus christ, y/n.” sana says again, louder, angrier. “why haven't you told your landlord?”
“trust me, i have.” you say shrugging your shoulders. “if i said anything more than that he’d just shut off the water entirely.”
sana sounds pressed, jiggling the knob harder. “i’ll kill him then.”
“it’s really not that ba—”
“i’m coming back next week with a repairman,” sana interjects, tone brokering no argument. “i can fix the doorknob myself but i’ll get a plumber for the shower.”
you duck your head, embarrassed. “you really don’t have to do that, sana.”
“i want to,” she replies, eyes softening when she looks at you. “i don’t want you living in some shit-hole with no running water.”
“i have running water.”
“we’ll see what the plumber says.” and with that, sana gives up on fixing the jam and breezes past the doorway. a few seconds later, you can hear sana at the front door shut behind her. with a deep sigh, you fall back into the bed and reach for your pillow, thick with her scent, and curls around it to fall asleep.
in the morning, you wake up to a ten dollar venmo notification for coffee and the contact information of the plumber sana mentioned.
—
“why haven’t you got my calls or texts?” is the first question that mina asks when you answer the phone. you stifle a laugh.
“well, good to hear your voice mina.”
“you haven’t called me,” she says again. “is everything okay?”
you sigh and sink into your loveseat, socks skipping over the fractured leather. your fingers cradle the coffee mug. “nothing’s wrong.” you say. “i’ve been really busy.”
“with what?”
“school,” is what you reply with. “not sure if you’ve kept up, but i’m in my last year now. i’ve been getting most of the important work done as much as i can.” a second passes before you add, “and communication is a two-way street. you haven’t been calling me either.”
“busy with work.” is what mina says in defense.
“see?” you quirk, a sip of coffee passing through your mouth, tapping your fingers on your knee, waiting for mina to speak. neither of you are particularly verbose, so the shared calls usually play out like this: tense silence, quick updates, the voids that harbored resentment. but you’ve grown far from the desire of mina to be soft for you (she has, doesn’t want to admit it) and you’re just accustomed to the dispassion.
for the final question on the script: “do you need any money from me?”
“no, mina. i don’t need money from you or auntie.”
“i assume the tips are good at your job then?”
“even better.”
she hums, like this was real answer, saying, “if you ever need anything, call me.”
“you know it when i do.”
“okay then.”
mina hangs up with a click before the goodbye is even truly articulated on the tongue.
—
your ears perk up when a knock is heard on the door, moving from your kitchen to walk to the entrance. curious, you open it, only to be swept up into sana’s arms before you can even say hello. she kicks it shut behind her and pins you to the old wood, lips roving over your face.
“what—” she kisses your mouth twice in quick succession. “—are you doing here?”
“left the hospital for my lunch break,” sana breathes, hitching you up so that a leg is wrapped around her waist. she dips to suck your collarbone, mouth curling when she hears you mewl. “decided to come here.”
“d-did you eat?”
“no.”
sana’s hand slides up from the curve of your ass to your breast, squeezing gently. you moan softly, head thumping against the wood. “you—you should.”
she separates from your throat to shoot a sly grin. “i’d rather eat you out first.”
mindless, spurred by sana’s passion, you surge down to kiss her. tightening your legs around her, thighs squeezing as sana’s hand cups your clit. with every pass of the hand, you can feel the shift of your underwear, panties clinging.
sana buries her hand into your hair, yanking back to expose your throat. she ducks her head to you for another kiss, trailing her lips up and down the line, tongue darting out to taste. her other hand dips down to your ass to bind you up against her, rolling until your toes curl. you sigh and slide your hand into sana’s hair. it would be so easy to just cum from this, but you’d rather put sana’s mouth somewhere else.
you pull her up by her hair, stomach clenching at the naked want on sana’s face. her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are trained on your open mouth. when you lick them, her thumb catches your bottom lip.
“please,” you gasp, moving against sana’s hips. arching. “we need to go to my—”
sana grins, almost madly, and kisses you hard enough to steal your breath. “what? you’re afraid your neighbors might hear me fuck you again?”
you blush hotly and sana laughs, but ultimately decides to appease you, heaving you off the wall. she seeks out your lips again and stumbles into the room. impatient, sana kicks open the door, heedless when it slams loudly into the wall.
you hardly notice also, giddy when sana pushes you onto the bed. it’s a race to get clothes off, pairs of hands fulmbling with the zippers and buttons until sana bats her pants away, you yanking your sweatpants off, meeting for another kiss as she lowers herself over you. you moan loudly when her fingers tease the opening between your legs, feeling the wetness in an instant.
“my god,” you sigh out, clinging to sana, blood burning beneath your skin; every movement a siren call to your own pleasure. “please, just—just touch me, sana.”
sana grins rakishly, eyes glittering with mirth. ever the eager observer to your own demise.
“you’re always so polite, sweetheart.” sana says, and moves down to kiss you. you yourself arch to meet her, pulse skittering at her proximity, at the heady invertibility of mindless pleasure, and—
the lights go out.
sana stills above you. at first, you’re surprised, waiting for them to flicker back on. this happens sometimes. i mean—the building is old as in 1920s red stone–faulty wiring and out-dated, but nothing comes to fruition.
“fuck,” you spitt, arousal plummeting to now nothing. you move from under sana. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“what’s wrong?” sana asks. you rise from the bed and she follows you to the kitchen. you snatch a pile of envelopes from your counter to dig through them, only to stop when you notice that the lighting outside is too dim to see. you sigh heavily, marching over to your couch to read by the flickering candles. sana sits down beside you, eyeing cautiously. “what’s wrong?”
“the light bill,” you croak. “the rental agency upped the price recently but i must’ve paid the old amount without ven thinking. god, how could i be so stupid?!”
“you’re not stupid. don’t talk like that,” sana snaps. she then takes a deep breath, voice much calmer when she adds, “and this is an easy fix. if you pay it now, it’ll be back on in a few hours. this shit happens, y/n.”
“but i don’t–” have the money. you clench your jaw tight, forcing the words down, but sana can see the pain on your face, can hear it lingering in the air, unsaid.
“i’ll help you—” you shake your head; you don’t like this, the reminder—” let me help you.”
“no, sana.”
“it’s not a big deal. i want to.”
“i can’t ask you to—”
sana suddenly shifts closer and grabs your face, cupping it between her palms. she looks int your eyes, gaze probing.
“let me,’ she cajoles. “you don’t have to bear the burden of this all on your own. if i’m offering to help you, let me help you.”
your heart swells. with relief. with dismay. “okay.”
she pecks your lips before standing up, thumb trailing down your cheek. “where’s your laptop? if your account is set up online, i can pay it now. i still have about forty-five minutes until i have to get back so i can wait with you until then.”
“it’s on my desk.”
sana nods once, turning on her heel to march into your room. the second she’s out of sight, you bury your face into her hands, burning with shame.
—
right after class ends, your phone vibrates.
you pick it out of your pocket, thumb grayling over your cracked screen to see sana’s contact photo flashing up at you; it was the one taken three weeks ago, with her smiling while you pressed a kiss to her cheek. you’re clicking the green button.
“hello?”
“i just realized you’ve never been to my apartment,” sana says, surprising you. “we’ve been together for almost two months and you’ve never seen my house.”
“oh.” your cheeks flush, pulse skipping at together. “you’ve never really brought it up before.”
“like a fucking idiot. do you wanna come over?”
your body warms in a near–sudden response, to your eternal horror, and with a bite of your lip. “sure.”
“cool! i’ll pick you up right now.”
“you're not working today?”
“no. i worked eighty hours last week so they gave me a day off. i’m on call, though, which is shitty anyway.”
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine,” sana dismisses. “so you’re still on campus?”
“yeah. i just got out of class.”
“alright, i’ll be there in twenty.”
“okay. bye.”
“bye.” sana says, but lingers on the line. for a moment, you think she’s forgotten to hang up, and moves to do it for her until she adds, softly, cutely you might think.
“i’m excited to see you.”
your heart thuds, and she hangs up before you can even say something back.
for twenty minutes, you wait near the entrance of the school, fiddling with your phone until sana texts you to come meet her. finding the car quickly, walking towards the sleek, gray two–seater of her vintage mercedes, and opens the door to see sana grinning at you. a pair of dark sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose.
“hi,” sana smiles.
“hi.” you say back, hating at how shy you still get around her, considering. sana, though, always appears to take a bit of pride to it.
she chuckles, leaning back in her seat and shifting the car into drive, pulling into the main road. you settle in to watch the hypnotic motion of her hands as she turns the wheel—it almost makes you nostalgic for some reason.
“so,” sana says, turning onto the street. “how was class?”
“fine. just sat through a lecture.”
“about?”
“well, just the study of psychosocial development of erickson. how the different stages can be embedded by sociological challenges. you don’t want to hear the rest from me.”
“ah.” you suck a smile in; seeing the cogs in sana’s brain turning. “sounds interesting.”
“it’s a lot to cover. my professor was telling us about how some guest speaker that’s gonna be presenting next month. apparently she specializes in existential psychotherapy so i’m thinking of seeing that when it comes.”
“that’s really cool. do you know the name?”
“no.” you appreciate the effort that sana is showing. elizabeth, as wonderful and cool she was, tended to block you out sometimes: on the occasion she ever needed to. “what about you? how was work?”
sana groans. “terrible. a guy was rolled in with a bullet wound and was hemorrhaging like crazy. i was able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, but the anesthesiologist almost od’d him and killed him. idiot.”
“wow,” you say. “is he okay now?”
“yeah. but i’m never having that dumbass with me at the table again.”
“you might have to, though. you’re a new doctor, sana, i don’t know if you have the luxury of writing off your co-workers.”
sana smirks. “i might.”
flicking the blinkers on, she turns on the road that leads them deeper into the upper west side. sana drives into a small parking lot behind a tall building before pulling into a space. once the car shifts into park and the keys are yanked out, you step out, mouth parting as you take in the veritable skyscraper in front of you.
“you live here?!”
“yeah,” sana says, taking your hand. seeing the stupefied expression, grinning and leading you inside. a red-headed doorman greets sana as you make your way across the lobby. the elevator didn’t even feel like an elevator and once you got past sana’s front door, you’re in full flabbergasted mode—eyes open like saucers. sana smiles at your gasp but when her eyes flicker to you they narrow.
“i thought it would be a penthouse of sorts.”
“trust me, it is but at the same time it isn’t.”
sana’s apartment may not be as lux as you initially thought, but it’s still nice regardless. you can tell that it was costly, dark furniture andwide, open spaces and tall windows. the walls are painted with a light grey. a flat-screen plasma tv hangs in her living room, mounted over a fireplace. the black velvet leather couch is in front of it, clearly brand new.
her voice echoes the walls. echoes. you’re left marveling. “are you hungry?” sana asks from the dining area, “i have some food from the other day.”
“what do you got?”
“some leftovers from this dimsum place, pretty good actually.”
you giggle. “i thought you would have a much more sophisticated diet to fall back on.” meeting her at the kitchen island while she opens the box of food, tossing a bite into her mouth while you’re scanning through the dumplings.
“this is delicous.” you say in between bites, sana leaning over pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re not eating as much, not enough craving?”
“i had some food earlier.”
“how earlier are we talking?”
“before i scooped you up.”
you hum while she feeds you another bite of the warm dumpling that melts so tenderly into your mouth.
the relaxing downtime with sana felt like a completely different world in her house. you got to know sana’s rough run down backstory of how she got to some form of power when it comes to dealing with which practitioner helps with her or not. being well-connected in her line of work was something to be fortunate with, but sana doesn’t like the idea of wealth being wrapped around her. sure, her clothes may be nice, demeanor brash and language abrasive at times, but she sees the world in a more different light compared to tzuyu and elizabeth on the topic of privilege.
as for how she got into her career of being a surgeon, she signed up for dual-enrollment in the last two years of her high school to graduate early. the calling of med school already being long in terms of time, so the sooner she could get out, the better.
“i like that,” you say. “i like how your mind works. i like—”
you. you almost say it. and it aches to not project it, the sudden sting of yearning. you, you, i really like you.
but catching yourself tripping up was something more of a simple defensive mechanism. “the story,” you finish. “pretty funny.”
“i have better ones.” sana says, grin lighting up her face, more radiant than sunlight. and her obliviousness burns twice as hot. “do you wanna hear about the time my friend bang chan and his best friend felix got mutual restraining orders back in college?”
—
you’ve read the name of tobio kageyama for probably the thirtieth time in two manga volumes before your mind decided to call for a needed break.
sitting upright from the couch, stretching and popping joints across the body. a look at the clock shows that it’s a little past eight, realizing that you’ve studied for roughly about two to three hours. too bad you didn’t notice it before because your brain is already bugging and battered into mush.
so you head to the kitchen, glass cup filled before drinking it once or twice before noticing that sana hasn’t drank any water since she took up a fortress in her office two hours ago, claiming that she had a work call. you fill another glass again, dropping a few ice cubes, before making your way towards her office door–knocking once, “hey, you busy?”
sana’s voice sounds muffled, weary. “no, come in.”
entering the room, hesitant like you were intruding on some sacred space. like the rest of her house, sana’s office was nice, richly-furnished. she has a tall, wooden desk in front of her, several files and stacks of paper placed on top. there’s a bookshelf behind in the corner, thick tomes marked by names that you don’t even want to try to read or recognize. the walls are also painted in a dark gray, and there’s a leather couch off to the left side with a blanket placed over it. even sana needs to have her naps sometimes.
sana then calls for your attention, glasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “did you need something?”
“no,” you say, inching closer. raising the glass, “i just wanted to get you some water.”
she smiles in thanks, taking it from you while she approaches with an outreaching hand, grabbing the glass downing it in one gulp. frowning with a mild concern once she gave you back the glass, “were you thirsty?”
“a bit. i didn’t feel it until now.”
“are you hungry?”
“not right now. i’ll eat when im finished with this.”
“you should take a break,” you say, stepping towards sana. you lean back with your butt to the edge of her desk, half sitting. up close, you can see sana’s stress more evidently, eyes low with exhaustion. “sit on the couch with me. we can watch something together.”
“i can’t do that, y/n.”
“why not?” would a short film be better?”
“i have paperwork. a lot of paperwork. not to mention forms, test results, patient files. i want to try to get through them by tonight.”
“and you will,” you reply softly, stepping between her legs, resting your hands on her shoulders. “just ten or fifteen minutes of your time, please.”
“no way we’re watching a movie in ten minutes.”
“not the movie, you idiot. i was gonna say food instead, you should eat.”
“‘m not hungry.”
“not even a snack?”
sana lets out a smile, placing her hands on your hips. “i appreciate you for being concerned, baby, but i’ll be done soon. i promise. then we can go get something to eat together.”
looking down at the ground, hands still on shoulder. you’re smoothening the crinkles of sana’s large shirt, fingers brushing up from her neck up to her hair. you lean down and kiss sana fully on the lips, slowly, once, twice, a few times, and rest your knee on her chair between her legs. you break away a bit to pepper languid kisses across the slope of her jaw.
“relax,” you croon. “take a break with me.”
sana sinks into you, sighing like she’s expelling a pressure from deep within her chest. her eyes flutter closed, hands twitching around your waist, and when you dip down to kiss her throat, you feel the flushing heat rising from her body.
desire races to the forefront like a freight train, bowling over you with its inteistiey, and you’re running a hand up her thigh towards the center. sana gasps sharply into your parted mouth, fingers clutching around your waist. you’re nearly smiling.
“you’ve eaten me out before,” you whisper. “but you’ve never let me do the same for you.”
sana laughs but it’s off, brimming with echoes of a dark promise. “i find it more enjoyable when i eat up your pussy then have you eat mine. better for me to see you cry the way i want you to.”
there’s a thrill pulsing through your body, throbbing dully in your cunt. you’re ducking down to kiss her again, practically panging into sana’s open mouth as you palm her through her pants. her face is screwed up with a tight coil of pleasure, eyes shut. her fingers dig into the leather armrests at her side.
“let me,” you whisper again, almost begging. “i want to.”
sana’s eyes crack open, solely, regarding you as though you were something to be consumed. i want to, you think with a sort of nameless, desperate sense of urgency. i want you to.
she nods, and you kneel at her feet.
you’re kissing through her jeans first, soft, affectionate little pecks that make sana groan, fingers sliding up her legs again. you help sana clumsily unbutton her pants, shucking it down and off her thighs. the panties are quick to follow, only first with a trail of your lips over the black-laced fabric, soaked with her wetness that fills up your nose. sana is wrecked with the effect you have on her, just some light kisses and heavy petting, making your cunt fucking clench; you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s wanted you even half as much.
when sana’s panties are gone left with her shirt; the scent is intoxicating. her folds are glistening. she sighs of pure bliss when you lick up her slit, mouth lingering on her clit. her hips twitch from the initial contact. you stifle a smile when you shower a few more kisses, and she groans loudly when you part her legs, squeezing her inner thighs tightly the more you shove your face into her cunt.
you’ve eaten out girls before, but sana was more of an anomaly. to play it safe, you experiment, trying to see what she likes best. licking at her, teasing her walls with a finger, leaving teased kisses to the area outside of her pussy. sana can’t contain herself when she pulls your head back in with her hand, moaning into her core, the vibrations too overwhelming coming from your mouth to her legs.
“fuck,” sana moans. “fuck, y/n–baby, fuck. i’m gonna—”
nodding at her, you don’t let up the pace of tearing up her cunt. fingers in walls and grunting into her. she doesn’t even let you breathe. the heels of her feet on your shoulders as her hands are on the back of your head, nails scratching the scalp the more you’re lapping her up. only then you pull away as she coos out locking eyes with you, the sight of licking your mouth lean with your tongue from her slick almost makes her lose it from the seat.
“i’m gonna ruin you,” sana promises, snarling, gaze devouring, mad with want. it sends a deep vibration into your cunt while she looks up to the ceiling. “you won’t be able to walk.”
you could’ve just came right then and there, vision whiting out at the edges. somehow you kept your sanity in check, ducking your head for more fully. humming and sliding your tongue over her cunt, nibbling on her clit and with a sudden jerk followed by a sharp groan, she cums.
a whole assortment of papers, files, pens, and pencils are scattered to the floor as sana digs her hand beneath your shirt and rips it off of you. your lips meet hers for another frantic kiss, laying back as she’s settling over you.
she shoves your sweats down along with your panties, letting them dangle from your feet. sana then moves back to your chest, hands moving like a firebrand, searing your skin with every touch. desperate to feel more of it, you sit up slightly and unclasp your bra. the second you’ve tossed it, sana’s hands are quick to palm, mouth hot against your own as she swallows your keening sigh.
“you have the most perfect tits in the world,” sana breathes, thumbs circling your nipples, forefingers roving down to pinch. the sweet pleasure-pain sparks a heavy throb in your core, and she arches into you, spreading your legs wide. you moan when sana’s mouth is around your breast, the other hand folding you.
“god, sana, please,” you beg, clinging to her. your hips are twitching, the emptiness inside you turning into a physical ache.
“what is it, baby?” sana switches over to your other mound, tongue laving over your nipple. your eyes fluttering, mind spinning at the sight. “what?”
moaning helplessly, and her hand slides down to your cunt, thumb sliding up the wet gusset of your panties to find your clit. when she presses down, your hips jerk forward, shrieking. she’s laughing around your boob.
“yeah, there we go,” sana sighs out, rubbing at you languidly, moving slow with the roll of her hips. “that feels good, doesn’t it?”
“ye—ah—yes, yes it feels good.”
“i know.” sana kisses up to your throat, sucking the soft spot beneath your jaw, lips deceptively sweet. “but you want more, don’t you.”
more.
your stomach seizes at the thought of it, the promise. you grasp at her wrist and sana hisses, dipping her hand beneath underneath your underwear to slide a finger inside you. keening when she adds another digit, stretching you open—another sounds leaves your mouth and sana laughs when you’re clamping around her fingers.
“you feel so good like this, y/n. so good.” she watches as she fucks her fingers in and out of you, transfixed by the sight. almost resentful of her own body. “i wish i could live in you. i wish—”
“you could,” somehow croaking that out when she has four fingers inside. “i’d let you.”
sana lets her intrusive thoughts get the better of her, growling while she surges down your body. your panties are up in the air as she raises a leg up, thumb petting your clit. you’re rearing up with a shout, a splintering sound, bursting, but sana doesn’t give you any breathing room. next thing you know, she has the flat plane of her tongue swiping upward that pushes your undoing even faster.
it’s good enough to cry, you can feel the salt on your tongue when sana leans up again for another kiss before trailing down to your pussy. there’s a malformation with how the kisses are sloppier on your lips above and below, but the pleasure is good. she makes you feel like euphoria is an ever-present force that is kept within you, and it’s much deeper than the sex. the sprawling root of it is happiness, and sana.
“c’mon, y/n, my lovely girl,” sana says tightly, jaw clenching when she breathes over your clit. her eyes hazy like she might be the one to cum again. “give me another.”
you wrap your legs around her, canting up so that her mouth and tongue go deeper, and you both moan from it. sana’s finger finds your clit again, so wet the sound is purely obscene, but it only strokes the fire of your pleasure, makes it build higher and higher.
“that’s it. there we go. t-there—”
sana stops short. a bitten-off cry, and she doubles down on your clit. her fingers clench around your walls, and there’s a gentle wave—mouth parted to sigh.
she stays for a second, pulling her hand out examining the slimy fluid between the fingers, licking them seductively that makes you roll your eyes and look away. sana just laughs at you, “fuck you, for making me like this.”
your head hits the desk, “not sorry. i like it when you’re needy for me.”
she huffs out, “little minx. when i’m done with you—”
“what? i won’t be able to walk?”
sana’s face falls flat, but her eyes spark with lurid determination as she leans in and whispers, “everything i’ve gotten in life, i’ve had solely because i wanted it badly enough. you think that doesn’t apply to the things i wanna do to you?”
your heart hammers like a jack-rabbit. red-hot heat slowly consumes your face. “i—”
she moves off of you but keeps her arms bracketing your hips. “we’re moving to my room,” she interjects. “i need a bed if i want you to sit on my face.”
eyes were wide open while you managed to slip out of sana’s hold, scurrying to the bedroom down the hallway. sana’s signature laugh echoes as she chases you down behind.
—
it’s a bit chilly outside when mina calls you, the autumn weather creeping beneath your new coat to settle into your bones. hitching the collar up your neck for cover, and the phone is out from your pocket to see your cousin’s name. you’re repressing a sigh, picking up,
“hey.”
“yo.” mina has many greetings. “where are you right now?”
“i got out of class, walking to the subway.”
“are you by yourself?”
“yes,” you say. “obviously. why wouldn’t i be?”
“you usually have that slightly taller girl tagging along with you. the one with the model face.”
“tzuyu.” you correct sharply. “and you’re not wrong, but she has her own life. you know? a girlfriend?”
“and you? you got anyone?”
frozen, stumbling in your tracks. mina could be asking for curiosity, but you know your cousin too well; she’s not the kind to be asking unnecessary questions.
“no, i don’t,” you answer cautiously.
“are you sure?”
“why even bother asking me?” you retort, voice clipped. “even if i was seeing someone. i’d mention it right away, even with thanksgiving around the corner.”
“i don’t see what thanksgiving has anything to do with it.”
“most normal people introduce their partners to family, mina. not everything personal is some dirty little secret.”
“don’t you dare try to get snippy with me. i was just asking a question, not cuffing you to a table for an interrogation. chillax.”
you’re cringing with knitted brows, stepping down the stairwell into the subway station. it’s a lot warmer, “whatever. i just wanted to know why you were asking.”
“i was asking because you haven’t been calling me lately. i figured that someone else was taking up all of your time besides auntie.”
your jaw tenses. there’s this wave of guilt that makes your clinch your lip, voice much gentler when you follow up, “i’ve just been busy, mina. you know that.”
“yeah?” the customary ten seconds of loaded silence pass before mina adds, “speaking of busy, don’t come down for thanksgiving this year. i’m gonna be busy with work.”
work. the nameless occupation mina had never bothered explaining to you, not since you were in your teens. you’ve had your own suspicions and theories, but you never even had the frame of mind to confirm them yourself.
even with the disappointment; it’s actually comforting in a weird sense. “that’s fine. i have finals to get ready for anyway.”
“you’re not upset by this?”
“no.”
“and you’re not lying to me about anything, right?”
“no, mina.” you say, smiling ruefully. “why would i? when have either of us ever lied each other about anything?”
good as dammed, but there’s no care for it. i wouldn’t even matter anyway. it comes as a concern for how little tinges of that feeling is there still.
mina sighs out. “talk to you later then, if you do call me.”
you hang up after. the lasting thought of mina doesn’t even come afterwards.
—
not even more than two steps into the entrance hallway when the doorbell calls you.
you’re freezing, eating away at the fragile patience, but when you look through the peephole. you don’t think twice about opening the door. “tzuyu?”
she’s standing across from you, arms folded, foot tapping, and pouting. “you’ve been neglecting me.” she accrues.
“huh?” you ask stupidly while blinking in a fast state.
tzuyu rolls her eyes and breezes past you, chilling air carrying the rich scent of yves saint-laurent. you follow her into the living rom, watching her shuck off her louis vutton jacket and tosses it onto the seat.
“well?” she demands, whirling around to face you. “tell me what did she do to you?”
“what?”
“your little sugar mommy-doctor-girlfriend.”
“tzuyu–”
“whatever she did, she’s good enough to keep you from calling or texting your best friend for a week.”
“what?” you’re gasping out again. “a week? i haven’t…”
with a rush of the phone, you’re pulling up messages only to notice that you have, in fact, been ignoring tzuyu’s texts for the better part of a week. all of your besties messages. the only person you’ve kept consistent contact with is sana, and the last text you sent her was–
well—best to the imagination.
“i’m so sorry,” you breathe out, throwing your phone off to approach tzuyu, taking her mittened hands, gently directing her to sit on the couch. “i’m so sorry, tzuyu. i didn’t mean to ignore you or shuhua or irene or anyone, i just—”
“you’ve been preoccupied with your new girl?”
“yeah,” you admit, bit of shame hanging, but adding, “and school. dooyoung–the guy editing my thesis—says it’s coming together really nicely, so.”
tzuyu whoops, reaching out to shake your leg. “and you’ll be presenting it next semester! how do we feel about that?”
“pretty good.”
suddenly, her eyes soften, shifting closer. “i was mostly kidding, by the way, about you neglecting me. i remember how i was when i first got with shuhua. you couldn’t get me away from her.”
“it’s different, though.”
“what makes you say that?”
“because shuhua is your girlfriend and sana is my—”
you stop, horrified by the abrupt burn of tears. you turn away to conceal yourself, blinking hard, but tzuyu was always quick to notice. she wraps her arms around your elbow, leaning into your shoulder. “your sugar mommy,” she finishes gently, but you flinch like it’s a slap.
“yeah. that.”
“if it bothers you so much, then why are you staying with her?” i’m sure she’s given you enough that you have time to figure out another way to get money. it’s not like you need her.”
“yeah,” you reply dully, still not meeting eyes with tzuyu. your mind is playing the denial aspect a lot more tougher now. “you’re right. i don’t.”
—
with all things and struggles, you compartmentalize.
you’re refusing to think of the blooming feelings for sana more than you have to, and in the even that you can’t, distraction was the solution: school, work, friends. and on the rare occurrence as crazy it would seem, shopping.
“an IKEA drawer?” sana asks, baffled. you keep your phone between shoulder to ear. “why the fuck did you go to IKEA?”
“i needed to,” you answer, pushing the giant box inside of your apartment, leaning against the wall as it’s on the wall. “my other drawer was broken. i’ve had it for like, seventeen years, so i figured that it was time for a change.”
“and you could afford it?”
a rhetorical question. what sana’s really asking if the two bundred she sent you last week was a decent enough amount that you could splurge on. clenching your teeth, flushing.
“yes.”
“y/n, baby. i sent you the money so that you could go shopping.”
“i did. and i shopped at IKEA.”
“are you gonna build the drawer now?”
“yeah.”
“let me come over. i can build it for you/”
“sana, it’s fine. i’ve built furniture before.”
“so have i. in fact, i bet i could have it done in half the time it takes you to read the instructions.”
“oh really now?” cocking a brow in disbelief. “how soon can you come over?”
—
time didn’t really pass, staring at sana from the bed, chin resting on your palm as you watch her hiss and curse to herself, pink screwdriver in hand. the sweat rolls enticing down the hard ridges of her abs, her hair is up and out of her face in a knot. the most exhilarating part in all of this was watching him use her shirt as a sweat rag.
“are you sure you don’t—”
“i’m almost done,” sana snaps, eyes flashing with indignation. “just give me ten more minutes.”
true to her word, she was nearly done. the drawer stands tall in front of her, most of the pieces already constructed and put into place. all that’s missing is the top set of the drawers, which she has in her hands right now.
still, it’s only mildly entertaining just to watch sana. you debated studying to pass the time, but the focus wasn’t enough on your book to make it stick. reading was also out of the question, and texting irene went nowhere after she revealed that she was on a date and couldn’t speak. the news that things with her and seulgi were going well and exciting to hear, but not long after. sana’s shirt was off.
“it’s really fucking hot in here,” had been the excuse mainly.
“is this supposed to keep me distracted? you ask.
“i’m not trying to do anything. if you’re distracted, that’s your prerogative.”
liar. she’s been annoyed the second you stopped foching on her long enough to try facetime tzuyu.
you sigh, spitefully debating on what you can do to fluster sana. the limited options, though, tend to lean more in one direction and the idea of willfully doing any of them was embarrassing.
suddenly, she whoops. “i finished!”
you roll over on your stomach to see sana sliding the drawer into the top slot, circling it, pulling on different knobs to test the tightness and checking for smoothness of the pulling out and pushing in of the drawers. she grins at you, triumphantly. “i told you i could do it.”
“i never said that you couldn’t.”
“it was in your tone.”
you smile, and sana straightens up to bend something in her body. a loud crack sounds, followed by a pained sigh, and her eyes open more glazed. “fuck.”
soon after sana is laid flat on the mattress when you motioned her, face turned towards you with a look that says are you okay?
“my back. it’s been annoying me since work—fuck.”
you nick your head as you cautiously glide your hands over her skin, kneading the muscle softly, and sana just hums with relief. “keep doing that.”
straddling on sana’s ass, languidly moving your fingers up. she just melts. sana perks up when you giggle. “what?”
“nothing.”
“tell me.”
“i think it’s kinda bad for you to have back pain at your age, and it’s kinda mindblowing how active you are.”
“don’t be that dramatic, i’m not that old.”
“for someone that’s near thirty.”
“that’s a bit harsh.”
you giggle again before leaning down, lips skimming sana’s ear lobe. “i’m just teasing you.”
“you’re so fucked up for saying that, i’m only twenty-nine still.”
“don’t be so sensitive.” you say pressing a kiss to her nape. “not bad if you're in your early late twenties early thirties while i’m in my early twenties.”
sana sinks into you, like clay in your hands. when you move to the ridge of her cheekbone, she leans into you, turning her head to catch your lips. a languid kiss is shared, tongues melding, unhurried, but that fire is sparked between your hips and it becomes urgent. it’s a slow grind that’s rolled out, eyes fluttering at the friction.
you pull away while sana breathes out, “fuck,” and flips you over now that you’re straddling over her front. your hands are on her waist, and sana moves her leg up between your legs, doubling down on the notice that you’re not wearing anything underneath the shorts, lips parting.
she leans up to kiss you. sana always kisses you, mouth consuming like she wants to suck you inside. “i didn’t know you watching me build furniture would get you so hot.”
“everything you do gets me hot.”
sana moans and binds you up against her, hips bucking, delicious friction sending stars behind your eyes. you wrap your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth, so euphoric that you want to weep. so happy.
when she breaks way to squeeze your breasts, a loud knock sounds at the door, startling you. sana, however, is unmoved.
“ignore it,” she says, breath hot on your neck. “ride me.”
your eyes flutter and you’re grasping at her hair, already picturing it, the slick coming out of you on her leg, the fruition and contact deep enough to send you reeling. and then you hear it:
“y/n!” another loud knock, more insistent. “open the door!”
shit, you think, cursing, the word flying form your mouth now. “shit, shit.”
sana pulls away from you, concerned, but you’re already beating her in the scramble. she watches you rush to the mirror to fix your hair.
“what’s up? who is that?”
“mina,” you breathes, cold panic pulsing through your veins. “my cousin.”
“oh, well—”
“it’s a bigger deal than you think,” you snap. “and stay here. she can’t see you.”
sana’s eyes widen. “what–?”
“stay here, sana.”
you rush out of the room and hurry towards the front door. through the peephole, you see mina on the other side, arms crossed and expression stoic. you exhale deeply before opening the door, forcing a smile.
“hi, mina.”
she hums in greeting, shoulders knocking as she walks past you. when she spots the IKEA box, she stops short.
“you bought furniture?”
“yes,” you answer hesitantly, clammy fingers clasped behind you. “i needed a new drawer.”
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“i need to call you every time i buy furniture?”
“no. but these things sell for three hundred bucks. it’s expensive.”
“this one was on sale. one–fifty.”
mina makes a deep sound in her throat, unsatisfied, but her journey is continued throughout your apartment.
“so, uh. what are you doing here?”
“it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“oh. i thought…you told me not to come. you said you were busy.”
“some time opened up in my schedule,” she says, and finally stops long enough to look at you. her eyes were shrewd, filled with knowing. it only raises the sirens going off in your head louder. “i decided to come see you.”
“ah,” you breathe. “well, um. i didn’t buy any food. maybe we can order–?”
“why are you so flustered? mina interrupts. “is there something going on?”
“what? no, no, of course–”
“mina?” icy pinpricks poke your skin, and you slowly turn around to see sana standing in the hallway. her clothes and hair have been fixed, and she smiles at mina with a polite curiosity.
your cousin’s expression sours instantly. “who the fuck is this?”
“mina!”
“who is this. why is she in you apartment?!”
sana walks towards mina, unphased by the insult. she sticks her hand out, “my name is minatozaki sana. nice to meet you.”
mina peers at sana, neck tilted at an angle that would be comical if not for the fact that you feel like throwing up. finally, she looks at you again.
“we need to talk.”
#hyunie#sana x reader#twice x reader#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#twice sana#sana#minatozaki sana#minatozaki sana x reader#twice x you#twice imagines#sana imagines#sana minatozaki#twice fluff#twice smut#sana smut#sana twice
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dreams come true
Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.
Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.
Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!
Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.
“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.
“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”
Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”
“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.
“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”
Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.
“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”
Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”
He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.
“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”
Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”
You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn��t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.
“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”
Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”
You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”
Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.
The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.
To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.
You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.
The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.
“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”
You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”
Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.
“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.
It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.
“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”
You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.
With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.
“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”
You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.
“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”
Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.
He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”
He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”
“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”
“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.
“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”
Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.
“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”
“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”
You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.
“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”
He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.
Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”
“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”
Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.
Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”
Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”
Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”
He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.
Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”
“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”
“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.
Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”
“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”
“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”
The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.
“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”
Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”
Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”
You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.
“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”
“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.
“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.
“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”
Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”
“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.
“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”
You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.
Today was truly a dream come true.
#slytherin boys#mattheo riddle#fem reader#mattheoxreader#mattheo smut#slytherin#theodore nott#draco malfoy#blaise zabini#enzo berkshire#smut#mattheo riddle smut#harry potter
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✮ roses
౨ৎ gojo satoru x reader. fluff, gn!reader, gojo loves flowers (like... he loves them a lot) — wc: 1171
notes. finally had time to publish a new fic hi everyone
gojo satoru loves roses.
when you first became friends with satoru, you were immediately bombarded with little facts about roses almost every day — ranging from what each color means or even how long they grow. to be completely honest, you found it really cute. the way his eyes sparkle when talking about them, and his hands getting excited, flailing around.
that is probably one of the reasons why you started having a crush on him. not like he would know anyway. you had no plans on confessing your feelings to him anytime soon — you’re too afraid of breaking your friendship with him. a cliche reason, but it’s true. you don’t want to throw your three-year friendship with satoru down the drain.
these past few days, however, you notice satoru has been super focused on his phone lately, much more than usual. at first, you thought he was just admiring his new phone wallpaper he boasted to suguru around twice per day, but when you find out he’s been texting someone secretly, you got curious (and slightly jealous).
“toru, what’re you looking at?” you asked, trying to look at his phone. satoru immediately hides his phone, placing it inside his pocket. you raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “why’d you hide your phone? are you… watching something weird?”
“what? no!” satoru exclaims, sounding offended. “i’m not watching anything weird, you weirdo. how could you even think that? i was just-” he sighs. “you know what, never mind.”
“huh? come on, tell me!” you poked his shoulder multiple times, earning a groan from him. satoru grabs your hand and stops you.
“do that again and i’m going to throw your favorite plushy out the window.” satoru threatens and you immediately stop. he smiles, satisfied. “good. you stop pestering me with questions and i’ll treat you to anything you want.”
“deal!” you exclaim. did he get a girlfriend? was the only thing on your mind because what else would he be so secretive about? you’ve been best friends for three years… so that’s the most plausible answer.
it was finally the weekend, the day you’d been looking forward to this whole week since you were able to relax without anything or anyone bothering you. as you scrolled through your phone, you hear the doorbell ring.
you weren’t expecting anyone, so this is a total surprise. regardless, you still went downstairs and opened the door, thinking satoru was here to annoy you again.
instead, you were met with a delivery man holding a… bouquet of roses in his hands. “are you y/n l/n?”
“oh, um, yes,” you reply hesitantly, staring the bouquet. “i-is that for me?”
the delivery man smiles. “yes! here you are,” he hands the bouquet over to you and you can finally notice that they are a gorgeous color of red. “and here’s the note from gojo satoru.”
you freeze, from satoru? why would he send these to me? is this a joke? you quickly regained your composure, smiling at the delivery man. “a-ah, really? thank you for delivering these to me.” the guy quickly leaves after giving a small comment about how cute satoru is for delivering these to you.
you closed the door behind you and immediately inspected the flowers, counting six roses in it. you open the note which is only filled with “call me when you receive these :P” taking your phone out from your pockets and dialing satoru’s number.
it took three rings for satoru to answer. “hello-?”
“toru! why’d you send me these flowers out of nowhere? is this a joke? are you playing a trick on me? what is the meaning of this?” you bombarded satoru with questions, not even giving him time to say hello.
“hello to you too, y/n.” satoru chuckles. “you received them already? that was quick.” that was the only thing satoru said to you, and you swear your heart was about to burst.
“gojo satoru. i’m being serious right now!” you exclaimed, desperately wanting an answer. “why did you send me these flowers? roses to be exact. six of them!”
“if i tell you the answer it won’t be fun now, is it?” satoru replies teasingly. you swear, if you can just jump inside your phone and magically appear inside satoru’s room, you would just smack him.
“gojo satoru if you don’t tell me the reason right now i’m going to personally come over to your house and smack you.” you threatened, though it is basically an empty threat to satoru, knowing he can easily stop you using his damn infinity.
“oh, i’m so scared,” satoru sarcastically say, which annoys you even further. “look, how about you research the meaning behind these roses and let me know, yeah?”
you groaned, mentally slapping yourself. “if i find out it means something terrible i’m never talking to you again.”
satoru only laughs and says a quick “good luck!” before ending the call. you immediately open google, quickly searching up the meaning behind six roses.
6 Roses: The perfect way to say, “I want to be yours”.
the whole world seems to have stopped, your face turning a bright shade of red as you almost drop your phone. your heart was beating so loudly and your hands were shaking that you can’t even press satoru’s number.
so, instead of calling, you ended up walking to his house (after a few minutes of calming down). you let out a shaky sigh and pressed the doorbell.
satoru opens the door and you immediately pull him closer to you. “what is the meaning of this?” you immediately shove your phone in front of his face.
he gives a quick read on what was on your phone and smiles. “yeah, what about it?”
“i-” you can’t even speak. the mere though of saying you like him back seems like it was too much for you to do. “what the fuck, satoru! h-how’d you know i like you?”
“you aren’t necessarily good at hiding your feelings, you know.” satoru says with a small laugh and you wanted to bury a hole and stay there forever. “but i find it cute. you have this lovestruck look on your face whenever i start talking about flowers. i initially thought you are in love with flowers just as i am.”
“h-huh?! i do not have a lovestruck look on me!” you exclaim, embarrassed that he actually noticed something like that. “i can’t believe you sent me flowers instead of directly confessing to me,” you glance at the flowers in your hand and a small smile appeared on your face. “though i guess it is something you would do.”
“right? aren't i so romantic?” satoru says with a proud tone and you laugh. “so, do you like the flowers?”
“yes.” you reply. “can't believe i fell for a cheesy, romantic flower boy.” you teased.
“you love this cheesy, romantic flower boy though.” satoru replies with a teasing grin.
you laughed and took his hand in yours. “yeah, i do.”
#kylin.writes#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru fanfic#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fluff#satoru gojo fanfic#gojo#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader
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⭑𓂃 GETTING STONED W/ TXT .ᐟ ୭ ˚. [ HEADCANONS]
☆〜（ゝ。∂）txt x gn!reader ⋆ cw// drugs/marijuana mentions! sfw, tooth rotting fluff <𝟑 kissing, cuddling, implied established relationships
⤷ what i imagine it's like smoking with the boys . . .
연준 YEONJUN
i imagine him high is a lot like him drunk lol
soft, sleepy, cuddly and just the biggest baby whining that he wants kisses now
likes using your lap as a pillow for his head, the type to nuzzle his face in your belly and wrap his arms tight around you-- won't you play with his hair? tell him what an amazingwonderfulhandsome boyfriend he is?
tries very hard not to fall asleep on you but fails every time
pls take care of him :(
finds the other boys annoying when they're high lol but still does it with them because they're his baby brothers and he loves them no matter how much they piss him off <33
cannot smoke without you because he'd spend the entire sesh going "where's my baby?? i wanna see my baby, i miss them so much :(("
수빈 SOOBIN ⭑𓂃
the kind to just stare blankly at the wall for hours
"bin, you okay?" "uh huh..."
probably gets sensory overload easily, don’t have too much going on at once or he’ll get a headache :<
soogyu is my dream blunt rotation im gonna be honest they're so fucking funny they just be sayin shit
high bin says the some of funniest things you've ever heard in your life but he has no idea he's even being funny
"why are you laughing at me??? :(("
gasps when you tell him you love him even though you tell him every day
“REALLY??? I LOVE YOU TOO!!!”
will get into the dumbest arguments, especially with gyu?? “what do you think would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon…” “what the hell is wrong with you??”
“no, dumbass, that’s not even how ufos work. look it up.”
범규 BEOMGYU ⭑𓂃
true delulu headcanon time here but hear me out okay
he's so crazy adhd brain high energy when he's sober but i feel like when he's stoned he's so. chill?
put a movie on or something and he'll be quiet for hours he's just so transfixed by the moving colors and lights
just wants to cuddle with you in silence or like. talk about deep shit
you honestly kind of love it because you'll have conversations about your future and your relationship that gyu wouldn't take seriously sober
he's very upfront and straightforward with his feelings when he's stoned, which is so unlike him
says some corny shit with stars in his eyes like "i wanna spend forever with you" and then regrets it later because he sounded like a dweeb
he's so whipped for you and he can't hide it :<
let him lay on your chest, playing with his long pretty hair, calling him beomie while he looks up at you with hazy, unfocused but so in love eyes
again soogyu = dream blunt rotation gyu is so funny
“do crabs think fish are flying??” type mf i love him very much
태현 TAEHYUN ⭑𓂃
this might be an unpopular opinion but tyun is absolutely the biggest stoner out of the five of them
i feel like he would smoke to relax, not necessarily to get high-- he's on stress overdrive 24/7, especially during comeback season,, he smokes to finally make his brain go quiet for at least a night
big social smoker but also enjoys smoking alone or just with you
i see him the most like his sober self, quiet and content and not really paying much attention to anything
normally you have to fight him to get his picture taken but when he's stoned he'll just let you shove a camera in his face and you love it sm,, "tyunnie!! baby! smile!"
very content with letting you sit on his lap while he zones out, nuzzling his neck-- he loves feeling needed, loves taking care of you
thinks everyone else is very entertaining, just enjoys watching his brothers act like idiots
he's such a bottled up guy, doesn't like to show or talk about how he's feeling ;; but he'll open up easily once you get him loosened up
휴닝카이 HUENING KAI ⭑𓂃
i want to smoke with this boy so bad. it's not even funny.
he's so cuddly and sweet and giggly,,, i lob him,,
he gets too out of it to kiss you so he makes your plushies kiss eachother instead hehe
kiss his freckles :< just give him so many smooches all over his face while he laughs that it tickles
spooning is a need not a want. he'd rest his chin on the top of your head and hold you soso close while you lay on his bed watching a movie ;;
like soobin he probably gets overstimulated easily,, he needs the lights off and he likes when you wear soft/fuzzy clothes,, ur his plushie now :<
will not let you get up for anything at all. will literally follow you to the bathroom and wait outside of the door like a puppy
SOOO much skinship he needs to touch and be touched so badly
goes totally nonverbal when he's stoned. will not say a word for hours
TUMMY RUBS also lays his head on your belly ;;
thinks literally everything is funny. show him a picture of like. a horse and he'd laugh at it
#ɱเµρσω𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ౨ৎ#tw.drugs#txt x reader#yeonjun x reader#soobin x reader#taehyun x reader#hueningkai x reader#beomgyu x reader#txt soft thoughts#txt soft hours#txt fluff#yeonjun fluff#soobin fluff#beomgyu fluff#taehyun fluff#hueningkai fluff#txt imagines#txt scenarios#yeonjun soft hours#yeonjun soft thoughts#soobin soft thoughts#soobin soft hours#beomgyu soft thoughts#beomgyu soft hours#taehyun soft hours#taehyun soft thoughts#hueningkai soft hours#hueningkai soft thoughts
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Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. killing the reader’s rapist
warnings: yandere behavior, subject matter is rape/sexual assault, gore warning in some parts - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
TIFFANY VALENTINE:
Tiffany knows something happened to you. Call it woman's intuition. Maybe just call it true love. Or obsession. Whatever it is she can sense a hole in you. A gaping pit of misery that you try and hide. Try and fight against.
Tiffany tries to help, when you let her. Most of the time you don't. Instead of admitting to being so depressed you can’t move or eat, you'll feign physical illness. You pretend you're crying because some part of your body hurts. Tiffany knows better. Knows it’s something in your soul itself. Aching.
Tiffany let's it go on for as long as she can stomach it. The relationship was still so new. You'd just moved in together. Just finished pulling your separate lives into one. Picking out the throw pillows, what color to paint the walls. Argued playfully over bedding and mattress firmness. Is it too early to push?
She watches you at the breakfast table, on the really bad days, eating mechanically, no joy in your movement or behind your eyes. She doesn't want there to be anything between you. Any secrets. Any distance. If you're hurting she wants you to lean on her. To need her as much as she needs you. To know she’ll catch you, no matter what it is she’ll catch you. It’s enough to leave her in tears every time you put on that awful fake smile.
She wakes one night, blinking into the darkness. For a moment, she's not sure what woke her. Moonlight streams in from the window. The sound of the fan whirring across the room. Her eyes begin to drift shut again when she hears a muffled sob come from the bathroom. Her hand falls to your side of the bed, instinctively. She closes her eyes when she realizes how cold your side has gone. How long ago did you wake up? How quickly did you decide to crawl from bed and hide from her again? Always hiding.
It's too much, now. You crying alone in the bathroom in the middle of the night is too much. She throws open the door and takes you into her arms, cooing softly, own eyes watering at the way you go limp against her so quickly. Here she'd been trying to give you space and what you needed was her affection, her tenderness, the whole time.
"What's wrong, huh, baby-doll? You gonna tell your Tiffany what's wrong now? Please?" She whispers against your hair, kissing the crown of your head.
You haven't said the words out loud in so long but you're tired of fighting the demons, and the nightmares, and the misery, all on your own. You've held it in so tightly since you met her. As if you'd taint her just by saying the words. But you love her, and you just want to stop hiding.
When you tell her she goes still. For just a second. Her arms tighten around you like a vice. She begins to rock you gently, cooing reassurances in your ear. She tells you to let everything out and you do. Now that you know she’ll still love you. That she’ll still be here for the aftermath. You can’t stop yourself.
By the end you feel exorcized. Alive. Softened and made new by the level of tenderness Tiffany had shown you. She gathers you from the floor of the bathroom, wipes both of your tears away and kisses you gently. She tucks you back into bed and asks only one more question:
“What was their name again, sugar bear?” You don’t hesitate to tell her. It warms her heart the way you curl into her side without anymore hesitation. The space between you gone now.
You sleep deeply that night. You wake up to an empty bed and are surprised. Usually, no matter how late you sleep in Tiffany is still wrapped around you. Just as much a night owl as you, early mornings are rare.
You pass by the laundry room, notice that the washer and dryer are both going. You thought you did all the laundry a few days ago. You peek into the washer and notice how red the water is. Tiffany must have been attacked by the creative spirit, gotten messy using some paint.
You hope she didn’t use acrylics this time, the stains never come out.
You walk through the house calling for your girlfriend. No answer. You step out onto the back porch and there she is. Bathed in the early afternoon sun. Your whole body relaxes when you see her in the garden, bent over, planting a whole new row of flowers. She’s absolutely covered in dirt. You smile, feeling happier than you have in ages. You rush out to join her in the sunlight and throw your arms around her.
“I love you, Tiff.” You cover her face in kisses, ignoring the dirt.
“I love you too, baby-doll. I love you more than anything.” Tiffany kisses you back, sweet and passionate. Playfully, she spins you to lay beneath her and revels in the sound of your carefree, shrill laughter.
She hopes they can hear you, just barely, through the layers of dirt she buried them in. With their last breath she hopes they hear your laughter and realize they didn’t break you.
JORDAN LI:
You weren’t answering your phone. Not their calls. Not their texts. It was enough to have them shrugging on their jacket and stomping out of their dorm into the cool night air.
They’d had a bad feeling about letting you go out alone tonight. You always partied together. Usually with Jordan’s friends, who had become yours. Jordan hated the old group you used to run with. Disloyal. Stupid. Selfish. Now she wishes you’d at least taken one of those fake groupies. At least then you wouldn’t be alone.
She walks through the party, a brick wall, shoving people aside as she calls your name. Anxiety prickles the skin at the back of her neck. She jogs up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She throws open door after door, music from the party too loud to even fucking think.
Jordan’s angrier by the second, wondering if something happened to you. She hopes you just lost your phone. If someone stole it she’ll break their fucking jaw.
The last door in the hallway, she sees two bodies on the floor, one moving against the other in the dim light. She rolls her eyes about to slam the door shut and go look for you in the kitchen again. As she goes to close the door she stops dead when she hears a whimper from the floor. The tiniest noise of pain, a drowsy “stop”. The scene looks different now.
She steps into the room, forgetting about you for one second, heart pounding in her ears. Jordan pulls the person on top off by their hair, hard enough to hurt. When she sees it’s Rufus she let’s out a laugh of anger and blasts him across the room with her power. Hard enough that he leaves a dent in the wall.
Jordan turns to the person on the ground, hoping the short distance between them and Rufus will make his fucking pheromone bullshit wear off.
“Are you-” Her blood stops. It’s you, on the floor. Your outfit torn and ripped. Tears are running down your cheeks but your eyes still have that drugged shimmer that might as well be that walking roofie’s calling card.
“Jordan?” You mumble from the floor, dazed and confused.
Rufus makes a sound from across the room, getting to his feet. Jordan stops breathing as she turns. They make eye contact. Fear in one pair. Anger so strong it’s inhuman, in the other.
Jordan’s across the room in an instant. Her fist breaks his jaw with the first blow. Everything after that is a blur. She comes back to herself when she feels a stabbing pain shoot through her fist and she pulls her hand away with a hiss. Bone fragment cutting into her hand.
The haze of the rage falls away and Jordan realizes how wet she feels. She looks down at her clothes. Sees how soaked in blood they are. Then her eyes fall to the mess she’s left on the floor. She almost throws up. Shakes her hands and feels brain matter slide off of them.
She thinks, what the fuck did I just do? What the fuck did I just do?
“Jordan?” You call from across the room, sounding less drugged.
She looks over at you and tears burn her eyes. Numb, she climbs off the body and rushes to you, looking you over. The tears fall when she sees the bruises, the small cuts. You must’ve fought him, even through the haze of his powers. You’ve always been a fucking fighter. She should have fucking been here. She doesn’t want to touch you with the blood on her hands but you don’t give her a choice, falling into her arms sobbing. She forces back her own. This is her fault. You’re the only one who deserves to cry.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jordan mumbles, hands shaking as they leave bloody smears across your skin. What else can she say?
NANCY DOWNS:
Secret keeping doesn’t work with Nancy. No matter how small of a secret, or a lie, she can sniff it out. Furthermore she hates when you lie. About anything. You should always tell each other the truth. You're one soul in two separate bodies, as far as Nancy is concerned.
Even before she did the spell to bind you to one another permanently.
Because of the magic she can feel what you’re hiding now. She had a suspicion before. But now she knows. Now she fucking knows. She’s furious, and heartbroken, and she knows.
You still try and hide it, though. As if you can hide anything from the other half of your fucking soul.
“Enough, Y/N.” She spits at you one night, when you’re trying so hard not to think about it. Not to feel.
She doesn’t know why you’re blocking her out. Not letting her feel it with you. Whatever you suffered. Whatever harm that befell you it would be avenged times three if you just let her in.
Nancy’s magic has always been stronger. She was being kind before. Hoping you would come to her on your own. She sees now that you need to be encouraged. She’s still gentle, somehow, as she invades the sanctity of your mind. For one instant your consciousness is her consciousness, and you’re both one being, sharing every thought and feeling.
She sees it. Feels it. Lives what you lived, in that single moment. She pulls herself out of your mind, eyes hauntingly empty. They meet yours, register you, and fill with tears slowly. You reach out, in sync and Nancy pulls you to her. You can’t tell apart the sounds of your voices as you start to scream and sob.
You pass out, eventually. Either from exhaustion or a spell Nancy placed on you. You wake in your shared bed to her standing over you, covered in blood. A knife in one hand, something meaty and dripping in the other. When your eyes adjust fully to the moonlight you realize it’s a human heart.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You're safe now. You’ll always be safe, with me. You understand?” Nancy coos, petting your face with the hand holding the knife. It cuts you. You start to cry and you’re not sure if it’s from relief.
JENNIFER CHECK:
You come home from the party you attended quietly. You open the door without a sound. Kick off your shoes. Put down your bag. You’ve shut yourself into the bathroom before she can even ask how it went. Immediately, her hackles are up. Irritation and concern. You know she hates being ignored. You never ignore her. You didn’t even say hello.
Jennifer knocks on the bathroom door, trying to keep her voice playful as she asks what your deal is. You don’t respond. The sound of running water is the only thing she can hear. She pounds on the door, getting nervous.
Then she picks up the smell of prey. You smell like prey. Dried sweat perfumes your skin, the sweetest smelling kind, that only one emotion causes: primal fear. The faintest whiff of blood and tears.
She breaks down the door. You don’t even notice. Don’t even look away from the mirror. You just go on trying to wipe the blood from your face. Your lip is busted. Hair a tangled mess. Scrapes along your cheek and neck, collarbone. Your clothes are a mess too. Rips and tears in fabric that was pristine a few hours ago.
“Baby?” Jennifer says again, feeling sick. Still nothing.
She reaches out to touch you, gently. You come alive, jolting away from her with a scream. It’s the type of fear she’s heard a thousand times. Right before she rips out an organ or a throat.
It’s the breaking of a dam and you fall to the ground, sobbing, still trying to wipe away at your skin. Any bit of skin you can reach. Jennifer tries to wrestle the rag from you. You’re being too rough, you're only human. You’re so breakable. You fight against her, sobs getting louder.
“Baby stop fighting me!” Jennifer begs, uncharacteristically.
Between your sobs she makes out the words of you needing to clean yourself and her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t know she was capable of tears still.
“Stop.” Jennifer commands, voice going inhuman, harmonic. You go still, entranced by the full force of her power. Jennifer feels the tears falling down her cheeks. Watches your own tears cut bloody, miserable lines down your face.
She takes the rag and gently wipes at your cuts. She peels away your ruined clothes. Starts the bath and places you inside it. Every time her hold on your mind starts to wane, and that animal fear of harm kicks back in, she speaks to you. She doesn’t let the control slip until your body stops secreting that awful smell of terror.
“Who did this, baby?” She asks quietly, trying not to focus on the haunted look on your face.
You don’t answer her. She swallows.
“That’s okay, baby. I’ve got the scent anyways.” She tucks you into bed, orders you into a dreamless sleep that you couldn’t hope to fight off.
She doesn’t come back home until the morning. The blood beneath her fingernails makes her itch. The smell of the monster she killed is putrid in her nose. She showers under water so hot it singes even her skin. When she crawls into bed beside you, before she falls asleep, she thinks about how hungry she is. She curls her entire body around yours.
She hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of eating your fucking rapist.
CARRIE WHITE:
You’d just moved into this house together. It was a nice enough neighborhood. Cozy. Nothing too big or expensive. The dorms at university had been too loud and hectic for Carrie. For this semester you’d decided you needed to build a life together.
She’d never been happier than she was while painting the walls with you. Picking out lamps, and blankets, and a shoe rack. She remembers the way she’d used telekinesis to haul the heavy couch inside while the two of you held your hands underneath and pretended to carry it. The elderly neighbors all watching from their porches with dropped jaws. When you took one hand away to wave at them Carrie had to rush you both inside before she actually dropped the couch from laughing.
You went to class together. Cooked and cleaned side by side. Carrie tailoring clothes for money and you tutoring. It was good. Life was good. After years of suffering, you were her heaven on Earth.
Carrie came home from grocery shopping, humming quietly to herself. She knew you were home but didn’t call out for you. You’d told her you were tutoring someone this afternoon. Some of the subjects required a lot of focus, especially if you were already struggling with the material. She’d brought extra snacks in case they were hungry.
She set the groceries down in the kitchen and walked into the living room. She froze in her tracks. You were there, and there was your student, on top of you. You locked eyes with Carrie, over their shoulder. They were holding you down. You’d been gagged to keep you from screaming. So the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
They were assaulting you in your own home. In the home you shared with her. Her vision whited out.
She came to with your hands gently shaking her awake. She screamed when she saw you. You were covered in blood. In gore, and chunks of flesh. The sight alone brought back such horrible memories she turned over and threw up. You held her hair back, as if the blood on your hands was less awful than vomit.
She tried to look…. To see what she’d done. But you won’t let her look past you. You’re sobbing and still trying to protect her. Even though she hadn’t protected you. Her whole world. Her angel, that God sent her, and she’d let you be defiled. She’d failed you.
You fall apart in each other’s arms, trying to ignore the headless body a few feet away.
GINGER FITZGERALD:
You’d thought she’d under-reacted, when you told her. ‘She’s being unusually calm’ was your exact thought. But you were so tired, after years of holding in the dark secret. You were just relieved to have her acceptance, without hesitation, without disgust.
She asked no questions that could leave you wondering about anything. On whether or not she thinks it’s your fault. If she thinks you should’ve fought back harder. If she thinks you’re weak. Tainted. Dirty. She says all the perfect words, everything you’ve ever needed to hear. She held you close and whispered them, and kissed you the same as always.
She treats you no differently. You let yourself soften in the reality of a devotion that only Ginger can give.
But you knew she was under-reacting.
You walk into your living room a week later and see Ginger sitting on the couch, your rapist beaten within an inch of their life, bound and gagged at her feet. Her face lights up when she sees you. She grins like a wolf, canines sharper than usual.
She stomps on their head as she skips to greet you, grabbing you by the hips. She ignores your gaping mouth when she kisses your cheek affectionately, “Brought you a little gift, baby.”
“I almost just killed them, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted-”
“Wanted to what, Ging?” You cut her off, breathless, eyes glued to that hauntingly familiar face.
“Wanted the chance to make them suffer, before they die.” Ginger whispers, staring at you so lovingly you almost start to cry.
You tug her into your arms and laugh wetly when she starts to purr. You can see the way her tail wags beneath her skirt. She’s always so eager to please.
“I don’t know if I can do that, Ginger.” You admit into the skin of her neck.
“Sure you can.” Ginger coos, taking you by the hands and leading you over to the shivering body on the ground. “I’ll show you how.”
She takes off the gag so you can hear the screams better.
#tiffany valentine x reader#jordan li x reader#carrie white x reader#jennifer check x reader#nancy downs x reader#ginger fitzgerald x reader#crazy ass girls gang#THIS ONE IS A DOOZY GANG
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Behind The Facades | Part II
An unrequited pining over a certain super solider.
Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)
Words: 3.3k++
Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader
Warnings: angst. pent up anger. unspoken jealousy. conflicted feelings.
P/S: i heard you. i got you. since lots of you enjoyed the supposedly oneshot, so i decided to do a continuation for this couple. Hope you enjoy~
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Weeks gone by, months flown through and the team was already accustomed Bucky's girlfriend wandering around the tower. Though they thought she would move-in eventually, knowing that Tony allowed them to do so, but she hadn't done it yet.
While Y/N, on the other hand, felt like she was constantly walking on thin ice. Being tug in between holding herself together and breaking down.
What's worst about this was, deep down, Y/N wanted to hate her.
Gail Richards.
Bucky's girl.
A gorgeous red-head, sultry champagne-colored eyes, a deep dimple on her right cheek, sculptured body of goddess and heart of gold.
Y/N got to admit that she hated how perfect Gail was for Bucky. She had such a kind soul; it's impossible not to fall for her. In hindsight, she was exactly what Bucky needed in his life.
What he deserve.
And in the end, Gail managed to steal not just Bucky's heart, but also the entire team's.
Including Y/N herself.
The friendship between Gail and Y/N was true and genuine; even if it hurts her everytime when she was forced to see Gail canoodling with the man she had fallen madly in love with.
"So where's the date? Did he tell you or is it a surprise kind of thing?" Gail's questions snapped Y/N from her deep internal thoughts.
Her gaze fell into her own reflection in the mirror; she was fitted with a simple black satin dress, with a quite scandalous slit on one side on her thigh. Standing behind her, was Gail, helping her out with the pearl necklace she was graciously lending it to Y/N.
"I don't remember the name but it's that new michelin star restaurant." Y/N replied as she straighten her dress, suddenly feeling conscious of how tight the dress was hugging her body.
"Oh! I know that fancy new restaurant. It opened last week, right? Bucky and I haven't had the chance to go yet. I heard it's pretty hard to get reservation. I must say, I'm impressed."
While Gail seemed to approve of Y/N's date, she didn't notice the way Y/N's body froze as she mentioned Bucky's name.
Her fingers were itching to dug it's nails somewhere, anywhere; as she try to keep her composure as neutral as possible, "Yeah, I'll definitely give you my review before you guys go on a date there. Who knows if its not up to the standards, right?"
Oh, how desperate she was on wanting to hide her pain away.
"That's great, y/n! But, I'd rather you actually enjoy the date rather than secretly being an undercover food critique. Forget about everything and have fun for once! Who knows this one is a keeper, huh?" Gail rubbed her hands to side of Y/N's arms; her eyes brighten as she encouraged her.
Ignorance is truly a bliss; though it's not that she knows that Y/N had been in love with Bucky this whole time.
On the other hand, Bucky was starting to feel the effects of what Gail had warned him before. He doesn't want to feel like she doesn't love him because she does.
At least she tries to.
Persuing Gail was not necessarily easy; not because he was lacking or she played hard to get. But because of how honest she was; how self aware she was.
"Being with me is a hell of a challenge, Bucky. My emotions are unpredictable. Today, I will love you ever so truly; I will drown you with all the kisses and cuddles you could ever imagine but the next day you might not being able to talk to me or even see me."
"I'll go M.I.A and isolate myself from the world at any time, with no warning. I shut down without any reason."
"I might not be there for you when you needed me the most. I might abandon you when all you wanted for me to stay."
"Worst part about it is I won't feel sorry for what I did because I can barely feel anything during those time."
But he insisted to try.
Maybe it was the sudden surge of passion when he met her but he was determined that they could make it work.
So, try they did.
As his relationship with Gail progresses, his and y/n's started to astray. He noticed y/n has been keeping her distance with him since he got together with Gail.
She had been cooped up in her room more often. There was a gradual changes in their schedule. Lesser trips to the corndog stall that y/n was obsessed with, canceled trips on visiting Alpine, the cute little kitten they have been eyeing at the adoption center, and almost none of the late night coffee trips.
He missed her.
From her annoying laugh to her odd habit of scratching things in her sleep.
Her smile, her voice, her presence.
He missed all of it.
He missed her.
Which was why Bucky thought it was better to talk it out with her. Maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding that needed to be clear out.
It took just single knock before Bucky intrude himself into Y/N's room, "Hey, y/n I don't want to disturb you but can we..." Bucky's sentence did not managed to end with a period, thus his words was instead left hanging just like his mouth.
"Oh, wow."
For a moment there, Bucky literally forgot how to breath. It was as if the reality around him was deteriorating, leaving just the perfect view of Y/N. For a split second, his gaze seemed to dilated into a trance, slowly getting bewitched by the beauty before him.
Bucky was so captivated by how, almost sinfully, beautiful Y/N looked in that dress, he didn't notice his own girlfriend was standing right next to her.
Gail carefully slide her way towards Bucky as she prompted, "So... what do you think, Buck? Gorgeous isn't she?" A dreamy sigh escaped from Gail's lips as she admire the woman in front of her.
"Yes. Yes, she is."
Those were the words Bucky wanted to say but his mouth wasn't listening to his heart, rather it followed his head, "I didn't know you were coming over, honey." Bucky arms reached towards Gail as he scooped her close to him, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
It was subtle but if they paid enough attention, they could see how Y/N's gaze quickly shifted downwards to her feet. Her teeth sunk between the insides of her left cheek as an effort to distract herself from the thunderstorm within her chest. A little bit more force on her teeth would've tore her up and left her bleeding from the inside.
How much longer she must be in this torment? How much suffering her heart needs to endure until it adapt to the pain? She's tired of the ache in her chest but at the same time she can't help it when her heart yearn for a love that's never going to be hers.
"Well? Is she not goddamn beautiful?" Gail playfully slapped Bucky's arm, demanding her question to be answered.
"I mean..." Bucky stuttered to find words. Especially when those round doe eyes of Y/N's spark with anticipation.
All those milliseconds of time Bucky had to think of an appropriate, truthful answer but somehow he only come up with, "...i guess, you could do better."
Idiot.
Straight up dumb.
Bucky immediately regret his words when the gleam in Y/N's eyes suddenly faded; turning into something cold and stoic.
Gail huffed in denial, before taking Y/N's side, "Then you sir, need to check your eyes because she's absolutely stunning". Y/N gave a small smile as Gail pulled her for a side hug.
"Why are you dressed up anyway?" Bucky wanted change the topic before he said something stupid again.
There was a noticeable pause on Y/N's side as he asked, as if she was unwilling to tell him. However, the reluctantcy only arouses his curiosity.
Y/N turned around and faced the mirror. As she fixed the necklace near her collarbone, she made an eye contact with Bucky through his reflection and answered, "I have a date."
Something shifted in the air; as if it was getting heavier, sturdier.
"Who's the guy?" Bucky was clearly not amused with the idea. It barely filtered through his stern tone.
"Daniel. One of the SHIELD agent I worked with before." Y/N noticed how his expression morphed into a frown.
"Why is he making that face? "
Bucky seethed, "That douchebag? Really y/n?" There's a hint of disappointment in his voice; like how a father would scold his daughter of doing something stupid.
And that ticked her off.
She's a grown-ass woman; she can do whatever she wants, date whoever she wants. None of it was Bucky's concern.
"What do you mean?" Annoyance flowed through her tone.
Bucky rolled his eyes as he recognized that name.
Daniel.
That scumbag whose always staring at her. And not in a cute, crush-like way. There's nothing innocent about the way he stare at Y/N's ass and boobs, or always finding excuses to touch her.
However, Y/N has been oblivious to it since Bucky had always been with her.
Since when did that douche got close to Y/N? How did he managed to get Y/N agree to go to a fucking date with him? More importantly, how did Bucky not know all of this?
There was this uncontrollable, unexplainable rage within Bucky that he was unable to contain; like a venomous poison it seeped through his head, "Are you that needy to even consider going out with such scum? Come on, y/n. You're being naive, it's ridiculous." Bucky scoffed as his tone laced with scorn and mockery.
Gail gasped in complete shock, "What is wrong with you, Bucky? That's not--"
"That's not fair. How can you have the luxury to fall in love and lived happily ever after while I have to continue to break and break, again and again?"
"Ridiculous? Am I a fucking joke to you, Bucky?!" Y/N could hold back her own anger as she turned towards him. His face remained the way that it is; red and furious and he was not willing to put his ego down either.
"You know what?" Y/N swerved towards the bed, "I am going to go this date with Daniel, whether you like or not..." She took her purse on the edge of the mattress, "...and I am going to enjoy every second of it!"
"Thanks, Gail. I really appreciate your help today." Y/N smiled as she briefly took Gail's hands into hers. Blinking in confusion, Gail replied, "Y-yeah.. sure--" though her speech was cut short when Y/N interrupted.
"And you!" Y/N shot a glare towards Bucky before marching towards him, "You can go fuck yourself." She clashed her shoulders into Bucky's before walking out her own room.
Bucky gritted his teeth; his jaw clenched in pure vexation as his frown grew deeper.
Looking at her very angry looking boyfriend, Gail let out a tired sigh, "Why would you say such thing to her, Bucky?
Why did he say those things?
He could explain it much better way, knowing that he had plausible reason to why he thinks she should not go to this date.
But, why did he not do that?
Why did he lash out and spat those hurtful things to her?
Even Bucky himself was not sure why.
After that Bucky spent the rest of the night at the gym, and this was the third punching bag that he had completely destroyed. He could see his girlfriend coming in from the corner of his eyes, with an emergency kit in her hand.
She sat at a nearby bench before, "Bucky sweetheart, come here." Gail softly asked him sit with her.
Despite the grunts and gruffs that slipped from his lips, he still obeyed her; though partially was because she had been sternly staring at him.
Gail gently remove his boxing glove of his right hand, then lo and behold his knuckles was crushed and bloodied.
"The wrappings is there for a reason, you know?" She knew he would this; especially when he is guided by rage. Bucky remained silent, knowing that if he did not control his anger first; then he would probably do the same thing he did to Y/N again.
There was a comfortable silence as Gail was tending his wounds. Bucky looked down at her, focusing on cleaning the wounds. She was always careful and tender while handling Bucky; as if she was taking care of a child.
"You love her, don't you?" Gail calmly asked as she started to wrap Bucky's hand.
The question caught him by surprise, "What do you mean?"
She chuckled softly, "y/n. You love her. Am I right?" she reclarify.
It didn't need a genius to figure out how Bucky truly feels about Y/N. Even if he himself if not aware of his own feelings.
But she can see right through him.
She noticed how attentive was Bucky towards y/n. How he looked at her; like she's his whole world. How every single thing he does somehow relates back to Y/N; and he cannot go by a day without mentioning her name in their any conversation. How peaceful looked when y/n is anywhere near him.
She noticed every single one of those detail.
"Of couse, I do. It's y/n we're talking about here." Bucky replied as-matter-of-factly. Though there was some truth in his answer but it was not all.
Gail shook her head lightly as she holds Bucky's wounded hand in hers, "No, Bucky. You love her." Her brows crunched into a pleading curve as her gaze turned gentle.
Bucky frowned in confusion; he looked down at his hand where her thumb caressing his knuckles and he thought back all the moments he spent with y/n.
From the very first day he met her, on those nights she stayed with him, through thick and thin, her eyes on his, her smile on his cheek, her laugh in his arms, her voice in his ears, her skin on left arm, everything flashed through him so fast until a single moment when he realizes.
"I love her."
Gail recognized the glint his eyes, "And she loves you too, Buck." She coaxed.
The frown on his face turned into a shock as she spoke. Even if Y/N does love him, what does that mean?
"What are you saying?"
"Go." Her voice were somehow calmer than she was supposed to speak in such a dire situation.
Bucky knew what she meant; he knew what those eyes were telling him, "Gail, you--"
She cut him before he could say anything, "We did agree to see where will this take us..." her smiled was somehow bitter-sweet, "And I guess this is our end of the line."
A hit of pain struck Bucky's heart, "You don't have to do this." His left hand raised to tenderly cupped her cheeks; it was warm. Unlike his winter cold hand, she was warm. Like the soft heat from the morning sun.
She placed her hand on top of his as she craved a reassuring smile, "I want to."
And that broke Bucky's heart. And it broke for her.
He loved Gail.
All the feelings he felt for her was real. As real as the feelings he felt for Y/N. The only difference was he didn't realized he was in love with Y/N, but he did with Gail.
"And to be honest, I'm not sure I can keep up with the emotional commitments, I'm always M.I.A and lost in my own head..."
As Gail starts to ramble, Bucky wasn't hearing any of it. His eyes stings and his vision blurred.
There was only so much any man can handle.
There was joy in realizing his was in love with Y/N but there was also agony in knowing he had to break Gail's heart. Unable to hold back his emotions anymore, his tears finally broke out.
She was prepared not to cry today but seeing Bucky like this; who wouldn't tear up, right?
"Hey hey hey, I'll be okay. We'll be okay." She placed her palm on Bucky's cheeks, wiping away the tears with her thumb as she lead his gaze to her own.
"Bucky, listen to me. I don't want you feeling like you're alone." she cooed, her eyes had gotten glassy as tears filled within them. "You deserve so much more than what I can offer you, do you understand?" Bucky can simply nod as he feels like his voice will betray him.
"Good." Gail closed her eyes and leaned into a kiss. A soft innocent kiss on his forehead, as their tears fall on each other's bare skin, "Now, go get your girl."
<< Part I || Part III >>
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Feel free to leave some feedback behind! And what do you think of Gail? I thought it'd be nice to have a different characteristics for her instead of the cliche 'bitchy and rude' girlfriend.
There's no actual taglist. So, I only include those who reblogged with comments and/or commented on the previous part. However, do tell if you want or do not want to be tagged.
Taglist: @ghostofwinter @angstysebfan @erinallene @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @paarthurnax59 @nomajdetective @kentokaze @dexter99 @nana1000night @prettyinpink350
#winterarmyyfics#behind the facades au#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#avenger!bucky#bucky angst
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There's A First Time For Everything — (18+, MDNI) — Neteyam x Fem reader
Summary: Neteyam finds you wandering in the forest late at night, and decides to help you with a certain problem you've been having.
Contains: soft-ish dom Teyam, oral (fem receiving), squirting, creampie, dirty talk, virgin reader, experienced Neteyam. Tell me if I missed anything.
Neteyam has been patrolling through the forest all night. Bow in hand, analyzing his surroundings for anything unusual. Suddenly, he hears faint footsteps along with leaves rustling. His ears perked at the sound, readying his bow without hesitation. "Who's there?" He calls out, noticing a dark silhouette behind him.
You stop moving, immediately turning around and holding your hands up. "Teyam, it's just me," you disclaimed. "Put the bow down, please." And he does does exactly that. Lowering his bow, he approaches you and grabs your arm, pulling you behind a tree. "Y/n, what are you doing out here alone?" He whisper-yells. "It's dangerous to be out here when it's this dark. You need to go back to the village." You scoff. "What am I doing? What are you doing?" You questioned back, getting defensive in your tone.
Neteyam cocks his head, looking puzzled for a moment. "I'm protecting the clan. That's my job. But what's your excuse?" You're at a loss for words. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing really comes out. Neteyam gives you a 'that's what I thought' look. "I'm going to ask you one more time; why are you out here?"
You sigh in annoyance. "I just.." You start. "I'm having a hard time with— something. And, I guess I just needed some time to think." You trailed off, bowing your head as you aimlessly twiddle with your thumbs.
Neteyam can tell that you didn't really want to say what was on your mind, but since he had already asked twice, he figured he might as well ask a third time. "You can tell me what's bothering you, y/n. I won't think of you any differently." He spoke in a reassuring tone. "Ugh, okay", You deeply sigh, standing still for a moment. "So.. I'm a virgin," You start, wincing at your own words. Face plastered with shame. "And I hear all of my friends talking about how good it feels.. and I guess it just, makes me jealous?" You brought your head up, meeting Neteyam's amber colored eyes.
"I feel so left out. I want to feel good too, you know?" He's taken aback by your admission, but he keeps it to himself. "Y/n." He cups your cheek, bending down to meet your height. You gulp, cheeks turning a shade of baby pink. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, okay? You shouldn't be in such a rush to lose it anyway. It's not good for you." He chuckles. "Plus, a lot of guys like when girls are virgins."
You frown, rolling your eyes. "That's not true", you scoffed. "Everytime I've told a guy that I'm a virgin, they leave. Say they don't wanna 'corrupt me' or whatever, it's so stupid." You folded your arms. Neteyam's expression shifts to curiosity. "Is that so?" You nodded with a sideways smile. "Well, that just means those men are cowards. And they didn't deserve you in the first place, hm?" He pats your head as your tail slowly rises.
"Maybe you're right, I'd probably prefer someone more like you anyways." You say under your breath, but of course he catches it.
Damn those perfect ears. Neteyam slightly grinned at your flirtatious comment, "Someone more like me? What's that mean?" He stands to his full height again, his tall and muscular body towering over you. You heartbeat becomes irregular for a second. "Someone strong, independent, who can carry himself, an amazing warrior.." You respond quietly, tone dramatic.
His grin grew wider at your words. "A warrior, huh? So you're telling me that you're attracted to me? Am I hearing that right?" You nod with no hesitation. "Mhm," Neteyam leans into you, moving one of his hands to your chin and softly stroking it. "What if I were to.. help you with your problem?" Neteyam asked seductivly . You were instanly flustered, heart becoming flush, feeling like you're floating. "I-I would like that.."
Neteyam leans in closer, your faces only inches away from each other now. "Then, I guess I should give you what you want", He rests his thumb in your bottom lip, swiftly pulling it down before gently bringing his lips onto yours. You squeak in suprise, but as the kiss deepens, your body relaxes. He smirks against the kiss as he feels your heart thump. A line of saliva disconnects the kiss. Your breath is heavy, and your body is just burning with desire. "More.." You mumble quietly.
"Asking for more already?" Neteyam smiles at you. Stepping closer once again, this time pressing your bodies together. He can almost feel the arousal radiating from your body. "I think I know what you want." He whispers as he snakes his hands down to his loincloth, untying the knot and allowing his pulsating cock to spring out. Your eyes grew wide, gulping in shock. He was girthy, right about the size of your wrist. The veins on his cock were colored a dark purple, you see the precum softly pouring out. And oh my, was he big. Neteyam sees the way you're looking at his cock, and he knows that she has her hooked. "Do you like what you see?" He whispered.
"Mhmm," your body was entranced with arousal and submission. "I do."
Neteyam pecks your lips once again, pulling away slowly as he tugs on the waistband of your loincloth. "Take this off." He demands. You loosened your loincloth with no hesitation, he shoves it down, and you step over it. Neteyam grabs you by your scruff, making you yelp, his face meets your neck. Sharply inhaling before licking a stripe up and circling his togue.
His fangs swiftly sink into your collarbone, causing you to cry out. "Ow-" You feel him smile. "Sorry, you just taste so fucking good," He groans again before moving his head down, tapping your thigh. "Put this leg up baby, I'll hold you." You obey, lifting your leg up as Neteyam held you against the tree.
He brought his hand down to your heat, playing with your wet folds and teasing your clit. "Hmh!" An involuntary moan escapes from your mouth. "You're already so wet," he teases you with a single lick. "But I still have to stretch you out. Get this pretty pussy ready for me." He huffs, continuing to tease you as you tighten around his digits. Even though Neteyam's cock was aching— no, yearning for you, he wanted to cater this night to you. It pained him enough not to be able rip you apart right here and now, but since this was your first time, he had to be patient.
He began sucking on your nub, easing a finger inside of you. Your cunt immediately sucks him in as you pant, feeling his finger curl up and play with your walls. "Fuck!" You whine, grinding against him. "You like that, don't you?" He says in a pitiful tone, now pushing a second finger in. You moan in response, unable to speak as you roll your hips. "Answer me." Neteyam growls against your clit, making the vibration jolt through your body. "Y-Yes! Oh fuck, Neteyam! I l-loveeee it," You mewl out as your muscles tighten, climax approaching soon.
You close your thighs around Neteyam's head, hands searching for something to hold onto. "Neteyam..!" You gasp as he became more adamant with his licking, both of his fingers plunging in and out of you, wet noises excluding from your pussy. "Yeah?" He asks innocenty. As if he if wasn't knuckle deep inside of your pussy right now.
"I'm g-gonna cum! Pleasee, don't stop!" You whined as your cunt convulsed, and before you know it, your squirt is spewing out like a waterfall. Neteyam taps your mound, groaning in satisfaction. "Theree you go baby, that's a good girl." He coos, lapping the rest of your juices up before pulling away and sitting up.
You looked up at him as you're out of breath, watching as he brings himself on top of you, lips hovering over yours. He slowly leans in, your mouths crashing against each other. He wastes no time slipping his tongue inside and sliding it on yours. You moan into the kiss, becoming greedy. "See? You taste so good.." He pulls back with a smirk. You shyly nod.
Neteyam brings his hands down to fist his cock, a breathy groan coming from him. "I think I've stretched you enough. You're ready for me now." He speaks in a deep tone, each word hypnotizing you. You couldn't lie, you were nervous about your first time. But you trusted Neteyam, and you trust that he'd take care of you. "Okay, I'm ready." You confirm, closing your eyes to stop the anticipation. "Open your eyes, y/n." You shoot them open, fighting back tears. "You'll be fine, I'll take good care of you." He bends down to peck your forehead, holding his hand out. "Here, hold my hand. Squeeze tight if it's too much, yes?"
You nod with a gentle grin. "Uh uh, use your words." You sigh. "Yes, Neteyam." He smirks, using his other hand to rub your wet folds. His tip comes in contact with your lips, gently parting them. Your heart is palpating in suspense, but your pussy is just begging for more.
"I'm gonna push it in now.." he warns, you grip his hand now, preparing yourself. With one pull back, he shoves his full length inside of you. "Mmm!" You moan out with a gasp, feeling him against your sweet spot. "You feel even better than I imagined, fuuck.." Neteyam praises in between mewls. He grabs your thighs, fingertips digging deep.
"It feels good, s-so good." You continue to whine as tears marble in your eyes, each thrust becoming painfully better. He grunts, bringing his hips all the way back, then thrusting forward, adjusting to a new pace as he pounds into you. "You wanted to feel my fat cock stretching out this pussy, hm?" Neteyam teased, leaning down for a kiss. The rhythm of his hips doesn't stop, you kiss him back, crying and moaning into his mouth.
His hands find your clit again, using his thumb to press against your nub. Neteyam pulls back for a moment. "I'm gonna make sure this pussy remembers my cock, gonna mark you with my scent," he growled. You wearily whine. "Neteyam.."
The way you said his name was music to his ears. He was close, and so were you. Something like this was so enchanting, the electricity coursing through your body was something else. "..make sure everyone knows you're mine." He deeply moans, humping you now. Desperation growing more and more. You felt it. You felt him approaching his high, and he felt you too. "You're squeezing me so tight."
"Neteyam!" You mewl again. "You're mine, yeah? Say it. Tell me who you belong to now." It's getting harder and harder for you to comprehend anything as your mind is practically going blank. You're so fucked out. "Is my baby going dumb off my fucking dick?" He laughs, leaning his head back, braids swooping over. "Shit, I never knew you'd be such a slut." Neteyam smacks the plush of your ass with both hands, holding on tight as he uses them as leverage to pound you into oblivion.
"Neteyammmm!" You practically scream, "I'm c- I'm close! I'm gonna cum!" Just with that, he roughly thrusts, lifting his hips up to ensure he's hitting it right. "Tell me, y/n. You're not cumming until you say it." You writhe in pleasure. "I caaannn't—" He shows no mercy, still fucking your cunt. Harder, faster, and deeper. "I'll stop if you don't." Neteyam warns.
You finally obey. "I-I'm yours, Teyam! A-All yours, fuck! Please let me cum, pleasepleaseplease!"
And almost like your bodies heard each other, you both came. Neteyam letting out staggered moans as he pumps his load inside of you, his dick twitching around the sponge of your pussy. You felt the immediate warmth as you squeezed him, pulsating as your thick cream coated his cock.
The two of you huff in unison, worn out. Neteyam can clearly see how tired you are as he pulls out, softly groaning. "You did such a good job, baby." He kissed your forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Teyam.." You mumble as you chest rises and falls. He kneels beside you, reaching for his loincloth as well as yours. Tying his on and laying the other garments beside you.
"Stay here, y/n. I'll be back, I'm gonna get something to wash you up, okay?" He speaks in a warm, gentle tone. It's hard to believe this is the same man who was just making you scream his name. You weakly smiled. "Mhmm," Neteyam pats your head twice, giving you one more peck before he stands from his position, leaving to get you clean.
< banner credit >
taglist: @pandorxxx (♡) @sweethoneycn @neytirishottie @sullybrotherslover @tsireyafavgirl @teyamsgrl @encephalitis-on-sundays @sassypain @neon-groves @rosyjn @hidingfrommanda @whore-for-hawks @ele-sme @lowryv @teyamsatan
#avatar#atwow#avatar the way of water#neteyam#ff#loak sully#neteyam sully#avatar fanfiction#neytiri sully#jake sully#neteyam smut#neteyam imagine#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam suli x reader#neteyam scenario#dom neteyam#neteyam x virgin#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#atwow neteyam#avatar neteyam
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Wedding Crasher ~ Part II of 'Street Rat'
YANDERE BAKUGO KATSUKI
TW: OBSESSION, KIDNAPPING, MURDER, VIOLENCE, GORE, YANDERE THEMES
A/N: This was in very high demand so I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the support xxx
READ PART 1 HERE
(Female Reader)
One cold, dark evening, Bakugo Katsuki walked away from the store you worked at and never came back.
Part of you couldn't care less. Another annoyingly persistent part of you cared far too much. It didn't make sense to you. Katsuki was nothing, and yet you still found yourself searching for those scarlet eyes in a crowd. The eyes that never drifted away as if they were anchored on your visage. Sometimes, in the quiet of your mind, you wondered if anybody would ever look at you like that again.
"Y/N, smile!"
Your cheeks hurt as your lips pulled into a wide grin. When you thought back on it, agreeing to marry the first wealthy man that asked might not have been the best idea.
"You lucky bastard!" One of Yuto's drunk friends laughed loudly, as he slung an arm around you carelessly. His breath stunk with expensive alcohol when he leaned in too close to you. "How did you end up pulling a girl like this when you look like that?"
The group laughed at that and you tittered along dutifully. Yuto smirked. "Laugh all you want but she was all over me from the start."
His friend (what was his name again?) groaned dramatically and your resisted the urge to push him off. Just a few more hours, you thought, and we can go home.
"Come on man, just tell us what you did!"
Yuto shrugged and sipped his drink. "You know girls like her. All they need to see is you throwing some money around and they practically throw themselves at you."
Everyone laughed again, voicing their agreement as if you weren't standing there, still smiling like a fool. It was true that Yuto and his friends were in a much higher tax bracket than you but it wasn't like he thought you were some kind of gold-digger.
...right?
The drunkard, whose name you still couldn't recall, leered down at you, bony fingers digging into your hip. "So she's that kind of girl huh?" His breath reeked. "Tell you what, I've got a five dollar bill, do ya think she'll let me get lucky tonight?"
This time, the only people that laughed were Yuto and his smelly little friend, though by the way his hand kept creeping downwards, you could tell it wasn't a joke. The crowd sort of chuckled awkwardly, many of them glancing at you, and you realized you had stopped smiling for the first time since morning.
Kenji. You remembered his name now. When you looked at him, all you could see was your reflection in the display area of the shop, looking down with a pompous, self-satisfied smirk. As if you were untouchable. The only difference was that you were the one being looked down on. The same way you looked down on Katsuki.
Kenji was still laughing when you swung, fist hitting his throat dead on. You watched impassively as he choked and coughed, eyes bulging nearly out of his sockets. Someone screamed and the creep gaped at you, holding his throat. You hoped it would bruise.
"Your breath fucking stinks," you hissed, just as Yuto pulled you away into the garden, away from the wedding reception. You stumbled and tripped but your husband's harsh grip on your arm kept you moving, deeper and deeper into the dark garden maze. The thought of a steamy escapade in the dark of night would have been promising any other time. But not this time.
You expected Yuto to be angry but you didn't expect him to slap you across the face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you know who you just hit right now?!"
"I could ask you the same."
The sudden voice made both of you jump. What you thought was a shadow shifted, revealing a large, broad frame of a man. He towered over Yuto, who was fairly tall, to his credit, but you could barely make out any features other than his light colored hair.
"And who the fuck are you?" Yuto snarled. "This is a private garden!"
The figure didn't move but Yuto surged forward, perhaps in some convoluted attempt to seem threatening. You wanted to tell him to stop, that something felt dangerous about this man but the stranger beat you to it.
There was a loud crack and you gasped when Yuto fell, struck down by the stranger's weapon. He stepped closer and a beam of moonlight fell over his face, highlighting chiseled yet familiar features. Your breath halted in your chest.
Bakugo Katsuki squatted down and fisted Yuto's hair, dragging him up to face level. "I asked you, do you know who you just hit?" The bat he used was covered in nails and a dark red substance you figured was blood, part of which was flowing from your husband's head.
"P-please," he stammered, all bravado gone. "I didn't d-do anything..."
A scowl marred Bakugo's features and he released Yuto's head, standing up. "Wrong answer, asshole." The spiked bat curved in a powerful arc in the sky before landing on Yuto's face. Again and again and again until he stopped screaming and only gurgled noises came from the mess of blood and flesh that used to be a human face.
You were paralyzed with fear, from the beginning of the assault until Bakugo finally locked eyes with you. Your knees gave way and you slumped to the ground, tears spilling uncontrollably. "Oh god, oh god, p-please- don't kill me...!"
Those eyes, those terrible scarlet eyes that you had stared down at from your pedestal, darkened. "Y/N..."
He recognized you. You sobbed and curled up protectively. "Please I'm sorry, please j-just don't kill me, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I-"
This was it, the moment he would take his revenge on you for all those years of dismissal and mockery. Bakugo frowned and moved towards you but you immediately scrambled up, intending to run further into the garden. You had to at least try to get away.
But Bakugo was much faster and stronger than the scrawny kid you remembered. You barely took two steps before he had caught you, hooking a thick arm around your neck despite your screams and struggles.
"Don't worry, baby, everything will be okay once I take you home."
Darkness creeped into your vision and the last thing you saw was the scarlet blood on your dress that only reminded you of those terrible, terrible eyes.
READ PART 3 HERE
A/N: if you liked this, please like, repost and drop a comment or request!
#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#yandere#bnha#boku no hero academia#fanfic#mha#my hero academia#yandere boyfriend#writers on tumblr#yandere x reader#yandere bakugou#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#bnha bakugou#bnha fanfiction#yandere mha#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere boy#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere my hero academia#female reader#yandere bnha#bakugou x reader#x reader#tw yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x female reader#bakugo
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THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF CHOSO ! ✭ <idol!choso>
f! poc!black reader x Choso (18+)
summary : they say never meet your idols..well, some people just talk out of their ass don’t they?
'Cause when the stars align
You might bring the beast out
One look and your're mine
Keep your eyes on me.
“God they’re amazing in person.” You let out a breath. Sitting front row at your favorite group’s concert was truly a dream come true. They were called ‘GROUP XO’, consisting of three members: Suguru Geto, Gojo Satoru, and Choso Kamo. You’ve loved the group ever since they debuted. You’ve had countless merch others couldn’t find anywhere else. Thank the stars your parents loved you enough to buy them at the time.
What particularly caught your interest was the main lead of the group, Choso Kamo. They all had their moments and shine, yes. You’re a girl, you’ve liked all of them at some point. With your signed cd’s of Geto’s name written across them, your signed Vinyls with Gojo’s and a little personal note ending with a heart (that was a bit more expensive then you’d like to admit), and your rare photo cards of Choso that only came with first edition purchases of their latest EP. The thought made your heart warm. Back to Choso however.
He wasn’t a womanizer, no, but he did date a few women in his career time. All of them like you, beautiful brown women of color. It wasn’t often seeing someone like that especially in groups like his. And it also meant you had a chance. You’ve been plotting to meet the man since they debuted. Discovering the group your junior year of college.
And now, there you were. Hard work paying off, sitting front row as Choso’s ringed fingers held the microphone. He rocked to the beat, eyes shut as he sang one of your favorite songs. You moved accordingly to it as you have done just the night before in your kitchen. You admired him so much more now that you could possibly touch him. How his hair looked more softer than it did in person. How he wore it to the back with hairs falling over his face..His scar across his nose. The way his eyes peeled open and landed on you.
“He’s looking at me!” you heard someone scream next to you. But no..they were definitely on you. He smirks and walks closer to the edge of the stage.
I'll take you down, down can you keep it up all night
Up all night, up all night?
Want you run run run baby give me what I like
He’s in front of you, doing the respected choreography. “Oh my fucking god.” You whisper.
“You here for me?” He asks. Bodies. Hands pulling at him and he’s talking to you. It was common. Gojo did it their last concert, and Geto the one before. But as they sang backup, the spotlight was on you being lucky tonight. “..yes.”
“Aren’t I a lucky man tonight. Huh folks?” the crowd goes wild. You loved that they interacted with their fans this.. close. Your brown eyes stare up at his darker ones. He smiles at you, and reality hit. “Oh my god,” you whisper again, earning a chuckle from him as he pulled out a vip pass from his pocket. “Will I see you later?” No. Hell no.
“Yes..y-yes-oh!” You mewl around his hand covering your mouth, free of rings. Choso’s other hand held the arm of the couch, shielding your body from the world. His cock slams angrily into your juicy cunt, your ass connecting with his happy trail. “Fuck..fuck you feel so good.” He shudders, flicking his lip piercing. The sound of your moans and the sounds of your skin slapping together sent him over the edge.
His favorite position with his new favorite girl. Everyone knew after all that Choso didn’t choose a fan often. He knew he’d keep you in his corner. Someone so beautiful he couldn’t help it, picking you so early in the show. Even Gojo was shocked, he’s done it plenty of times, early on in the show, but never Choso. Choso who saw you as soon as he came on stage. Choso who noticed you were alone, but having so much fun. Choso who laid eyes on your plump brown lips and it went on from there.
It was worth it, so..so worth it. Everything underneath that outfit was just as amazing. Your curves, your beauty marks, the beautiful stretch marks. He was in heaven. That’s what he called you as soon as he gave you that pass, Heaven.
Moaning softly, he pulls out, throbbing red cock leaking over your hole. He takes his hand away from your mouth, placing it on your hip- god your hips don’t get him started. Choso loved himself a thick girl. The way your ass bounced with every thrust.. “Taking me so well, I like that.” He leans down to kiss your shoulder. His hair fanned around your neck as he slipped back into your heat. Made for him. He fit perfectly inside of you.
“You feel so good…” A mess he was, but so were you. You couldn’t believe this was happening. “I’m gonna cum. Can I cum inside of you? Hm..?” His thrusts slowly down, but get harder. Sloppily he fucked your already fucked out cunt. You didn’t miss the way his slipped out and back in, how wet he made you just from that. How his big cock touched that spot deep inside of you. How could you say no?
“Yes! Yes Choso- please.”
#choso kamo#jjk#v chats 🐚#AAOC#jjk choso#choso x you#choso smut#anime#manga#jjk anime#jjk manga#jujutsu kaisen choso#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#choso#jjk satoru#jjk gojo#jjk geto#getou suguru#jjk gojo satoru#poc reader#black reader#female reader#f!reader
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could you do maybe cg! Tony where peter comes over when reader is little and Tony is worried peter is gonna be too rough with them cuz reader is like shy n more reserved when little, but he's really sweet and the three of them jus color and stuff?
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ gentle ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹
|| tony stark x reader x peter parker
warnings: tony being anxious, pet names
-
Tony sits nervously next to you, tapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh as you both wait for Peter to arrive. This is the first time he’s going to be around while you’re small, you’ve gotten along with the teen at random party’s Tony’s hosted or occasionally seeing him while he was on a mission, but Tony has anxiety about him seeing you while you’re regressed.
He knows Peter would never intentionally hurt you, but the boy has super strength that’s fairly new and controlling that can be difficult. Not to mention how much energy Peter has compared to your own, a loudness and excitement you don’t tend to match while in headspace. You’ve always been on the quieter side of things, Tony’s worried you might get overwhelmed today and has already told you that you can ask to go to your room anytime you need to.
You’re not worried about seeing Peter, he’s always been nice and sweet towards you, you don’t expect anything different today. So you’ve done what you can to calm Tony down. Cuddling into his side seems to be the most affective, and what you’re doing right now.
“Here he is baby.” Tony says quieter, more for himself than you but you’re okay with it, you silently nod and curl farther into your caregivers side.
“Hi guys, sorry I’m a few minutes late I was caught up in patrol with this guy who lost his bike.” Peter rambles as he dumps his backpack and mask onto the floor, smiling brightly to you and Tony once you’re able to see his face.
“Hi Pete!” You grin when he walks over, crouching in front of the couch to be at your level.
“Hey there, Mr.Stark said you’d be feeling small when I came over today, is that true?” His tone is gentle and calm, you can feel Tony relax next to you at hearing it.
“Uh-huh. You wanna color with me?” Peter immediately nods, letting you pass by him to get over to the coffee table where coloring books and crayons are stashed underneath it.
You and Peter sit across from one another, cross legged and chatting quietly about what picture Peter should color and which one you should. Tony can’t help but sigh in relief at the sight, and snap a quick picture that he hopes neither of you noticed. He also makes a mental note to put Peter on the ‘possible babysitters’ list he has going for emergency’s.
-
#jj writes#marvel agere#little!reader#caregiver!peter parker#caregiver!tony stark#peter parker#tony stark#tony x reader x peter
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.
What would happen if, having appeared at the circus, the reader looked around and said animatedly. “Wow...this place has changed so much. You did a good job, Kane!” - instead of the usual panics. It was as if they were already here. And how do they know his name is Kane?
everything is very simple. The reader has already been to the circus once (back when the queener was alive), but was able to escape. The reader decided to come back, because they felt sorry for the people in the circus, but when they came again, all the old characters had long since disappeared, and instead they saw the main cast. They had to explain everything again: what the world looks like from the outside, how much it has changed, and most importantly, that there is a way out and they are helping them.
They know how to find a way out, remember their past and true name, and have decided to came back to help others escape. It would be cool if Kinder remembered the reader, because he was the first
Back so soon?
So their is what you asked. But it made me think of something. What if reader was someone who created Caine/the circus. And they check in like every 6 months or so just to see how everything is going, and to make sure nothing is going horribly wrong. But they can't get the others out. So they just do their best to make the place comfortable.
I'll still write your request but my idea will probably be written soon. Maybe. I honestly don't know. But you didn't specify on if you wanted the crew sperate or not so I'm just going to do a one shot.
TADC crew x Reader who visits the circus
You pop in on digital circus every now and again just to check in on everything and see how Caine is.
Your a coder and stumbled upon it by chance. That is actually how you found a way out, and help everyone with their memories. Those x'ed out doors are people you've gotten out, or ones who abstracted before you could help them.
You sometimes use it as a vacation too. Life is stressful and that place is full of a childlike fun and relaxing atmosphere when you aren't worried about escape. I mean you don't have to eat, drink, or sleep. And you get to go on silly adventures. 10/10 vacation spot if that's your thing.
You pop into the colorful main room and look around. It's about the same as last time, that isn't a bad thing though.
"Caine! I'm back!"
No response. huh. Eh he's a busy guy you can't really blame him. You start walking towards the rooms hoping to meet everyone new.
~~~~~
You get there and skim over the doors different pictures.
"Ok so looks like we gottt. A comedy masked ribbon person. A mismatch of colors and pieces poor them. A chess piece. Oh no, their was a queen version. Oh geez now I feel awful. Maybe I should stop by more... Ok uhh, a ragdoll. A periwinkle bunny. And a Jester. Alright not a bad line up."
You ring each rooms door bell getting no response each time.
"Wonder where everyone is. I hope they're ok."
You start wandering around calling out for Caine every now and again.
~~~~~
After around 20 minutes of wandering you find Caine and the group of people that the rooms belong to at the carnival. You jog up to them waving.
"Caine! I'm back!"
He does an over the top spin and hold the sides of his head like.
"Y/N!!! What a pleasure to see you again! Back so soon too! We were having a day at the carnival! Seeing as how it wasn't used for a long time I made some changes! Their is now more rides! And an arcade! How about I introduce you to everyone!"
"Yeah I would love that! Also I can't wait to try out the new rides. I had been on the old ones more times then I can count."
He directs you towards the crowd of people some are looking at you confused as to how you know Caine, and aren't freaking out. Some just look like they don't wanna be there.
~~~~~
Around 5 minutes later you know everyone by name (Sorry I didn't write that. But you already know who they are and that would have taken me longer then I'm willing to take) so you introduce yourself and how you know Caine.
"It's lovely to meet you all! I'm Y/N L/N, but you can just call me Y/N. I'm a coder who can get in and out of the digital circus so I visit sometimes."
The short Jester who you now know as Pomni snaps her head in your direction.
"You have a way out?!"
"Uhh yeah. That's actually the main reason I visit so often. To help people out and get them out. It doesn't really work without me here so I try and visit whenever I can."
"Get. Me. OUT OF HERE!"
"Ok, ok geez. The rest of you want out too?"
You receive only positive reactions so you take that as a yes. You motion for all of them to follow but before you walk off you turn to Caine.
"Be back soon! Just gotta get these people home."
"But of course. I feel their should be a way for me to be able to get people out. You'd think I would me being the controller of everything their would be. But at least their is a way for everyone to get out. See you soon Y/N and thank you again for all your help!"
You wave then lead the group back to the main room and to the stage.
"You can do this just about anywhere but this is the place that I've found is the best. My best guess is because it's always where people pop in when they first arrive."
You walk up to a seeming specific wall and do something (?) to it. You move off to the side and motion for them to walk into the wall. Pomni essentially sprints into it not even thinking that you could be joking. And she goes straight through. The others soon following.
After everyone's out you stretch and start walking back towards the carnival.
"Some digital cotton candy sound pretty good right now. And I wanna try out those new rides Caine talked about."
(If I'm being honest I didn't really like how this turned out. But I digress. Sorry it took so long. And sorry only really Pomni talked. Still I hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to give this a special tag cause I feel like I'm going to continue it someday.)
xoxo, Jester
#tadc x reader#the amazing digital circus x reader#caine x reader#pomni x reader#noob author#not beta'd#A way out
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jus saw ur post ab sculptor etho muse joel, ik u got forcibly ejected from the writers room but if i make another writers room will u write it /hj
hey tysm! I ended up writing a little something so it will be below <3 this is mostly just Cleo helping Etho realise what might be going on with his struggles to sculpt. I hope people like and mostly that anyone who knows anything about art would write for it too (I know nothing!)
"So, first things first! Why do you want to learn to pose armour stands, Etho? Have you got a specific project in mind?"
There's an awkward pause.
"I only ask so I can get a good idea of what to focus on. It's just good if we start our work with something you're already interested in, right?"
She's never seen Etho look so... Nervous. Learning can be a vulnerable thing, sure, but Etho has never been shy with questions and comments and the unknown the way some people are. It feels wrong to turn to insults, light as they may be, to ease the attention - they're at a complete loss on what to do other than let him work through whatever he's feeling.
"Nothing, there's nothing... Specific I had in mind. It's... I tried sculpting."
"Okay that's good. That's great! What did you like about sculpting?"
"I didn't like sculpting."
Cleo laughs, a mix of confusion and genuine amusement, "Alright! So why do you want to learn 'armorstandography' then?"
Etho is still looking down, picking what she now suspects to be dried clay or quartz from his clothes. His shoulders drop a little from their previously hunched state though, which is a good sign.
"I just figured that maybe it would be easier. N-not that what you do is easy, I mean, you're clearly very skilled, and that's why I've asked you-"
"Etho, slow down, it's okay. I am perfectly assured in what I do and how much effort it takes. But still, I appreciate it."
"I thought maybe something with color would be more, familiar? I like vibrant colors and how they go together, and sculpting out of quartz is so... Lifeless."
Cleo shakes her head, "I won't teach you, Etho."
Etho snaps his head upwards, looking for some sign that it's some dry British humor he's missed. Cleo's face is even more stony than his recent attempts at sculpting.
"I won't teach you", they repeat, "Not for that reason. Color won't inject life into what you make, Etho. I won't teach you something that isn't true."
"Uh huh..."
"And besides, I don't think I believe you. I bet your sculptures have plenty of life in them." Cleo sees a frown pull on Etho's features, "Go on, prove me wrong."
---
Etho puts his hand on the door leading to his storage area. It's a big enough space for art projects, and it's nice to hear items sort themselves as he works, frustrated as he's been with the outcome of his endeavours recently. Cleo reads his hesitance immediately, and knows that Etho won't find comfort in their reassuring words. Here, at the doorway, she pushes past him.
She's drawn to her own face first. Sat on a block is her own head, looking back at her. She sees her own soft features, big eyes and strong nose. A dozen other faces around the room, and she can just about identify them as their friends. There's one off to the side, hidden enough to not drawn attention but not hidden too much, as if he's given himself plausible deniability for doing it. Etho's problem is not that his sculptures look lifeless. Etho's problem is denial.
It takes Cleo seconds to spot and minutes to confirm - there's only one sculpture amongst the collection that properly resembles the person it's modelled after. Every other head or bust has been affected by it, flawed in different ways but for the exact same reason. They all look a bit too much like Joel. It's in the furrow of her brow, the fierceness of Scar's smile, the curl of Doc's hair. Their eyes are all bright, smiles meeting them in genuine warmth, and Cleo can see even with just quartz how skilled Etho is at what he does.
Cleo isn't sure how aware Etho is that he's making them all in Joel's image, so they opt for asking something less direct, "What do you think the problem is? With these sculptures?"
"They're all... Wrong. I just can't get anyone right, and I'm not exactly going for artistic liberty."
Cleo laughs kindly, "That's not exactly true, is it? I can see one that's particularly uncanny."
"Uncanny valley?" Etho makes the joke before she can, but it's not what she was pitching for.
She walks over to and stands behind the sculpture of Joel. "I like this one. I've definitely seen this face before I've died a few times."
Etho laughs, and it stops the ever-shifting of his feet and the picking at his hands. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at his neck as he rubs at it in slight shame. "He's, ah, a vicious one, Joel. He does this little huff thing, and it sounds like a tiger- he's always in some kind of mood and it's always so big, he can't do anything calmly or slowly, you've seen how quickly he builds, and, I just thought what's the most 'Joel' face I can think of? I remembered how he looked building that TNT cannon..."
Cleo lets him talk. It's nice, after all the awkward, to see him talk to openly about all the thoughts that went into the Joel sculpture. She can almost see what he means when he says the other attempts are lifeless; the animation in his voice when he talks about Joel makes everything else pale in comparison. She doesn't think he realises.
"Do you know what a muse is?" They ask after Etho has run himself out of steam, or perhaps noticed a conspicuous lack of interjection from Cleo, a usually very active listener.
"You mean like an inspiration?"
"Yeah! Well, sort of. In Greek mythology, the Muses were goddesses, and their domains included art of all kinds. And we've sort of derived meaning from that, so plenty of artists say they have muses that inspire them. And it helps them make art even if it's not always about them."
"Uh huh. So you think that I need to find my muse?"
"I think you already have, Etho." She looks down at the head between them, and Etho follows her gaze. Joel's eyes look back at him, intense and alive and challenging. He averts his gaze, something complicated settling over him - what they shared was so long ago, in a time and place so far from here. To feel the pull of that, it feels cosmic and mythical in a way Etho naturally rejects.
It's like Cleo can see through him, always. "It doesn't have to be complicated. It can be as simple as knowing someone well enough to capture a second of their likeness. That's what a lot of my armour stands do, they're just snapshots in time. Maybe you should just talk to Joel."
"Oh, I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"He'll be insufferable about it."
Cleo actually snorts at that. "Fine then, don't talk to him. Just make more excuses to send him mail and wait for an extrovert to bring you to his base to talk, or whatever it is that you guys do."
"You're not far off, Cleo."
"Oh, I know. I have to hear all about it."
"What?! The next time I see Scar..."
---
Joel stares back into his own eyes. The head was left at the gate to his base, like something the mafia might do as a threat. There was a single sign next to it: Feel free to alter or remove - Etho. It's incredible, seeing his likeness through someone else's eyes. He didn't know his hair was so fluffy, his smile so sharp. He picks up the head with a grunt (Bloomin' heck, is this thing solid quartz?!) and moves it somewhere it can be seen, before pulling a book from the chest under his mailbox and penning his sculptor a message.
#hermitfic#ethoslab#etho#smallishbeans#hermitshipping#could be read as platonic but i want to be safe :)#smalletho#boat boys#i miss cl.etho so much im gonna go rewatch sl#ty to the people who wanted this to exist it inspired me#i wrote it in one go in a hyperfocus state and then didnt read it over. sorry for any issues
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