#especially since the reader does end up saying something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bombuni · 23 hours ago

Text

say yes

summary: The two times Jongho tries to confess, and the one time he does. genre/pairing: jongho x fem!reader, bff!yeosang x reader (platonic), fluff, college au, pining warnings: jealous!jongho, mentions of drinking, implied nsfw at the end bom note: my bday is today so im celebrating w this thank u me this is cute asf🫰 also enjoy a playlist i made for this fic! ps i feel like i didn’t rlly do this trope justice especially w jjong but i just really wanted something cute and fluffy. either way, enjoy!<3 RIBO NATION FOREVER

You don’t really remember how or why it started.

You just remember that one day, you entered Yeosang’s new apartment and were greeted by a strange, albeit handsome, face. You remember stumbling over your greeting as he looked you over, all too casual in the way his eyes roamed your being. You remember the first time your eyes were met with his angelic gummy smile as he spoke his first words to you (you remember them exactly; “I’m Jongho. Didn’t know Yeosang was gonna bring over pretty girls often.” it stuck with you for days like gum on your shoe.) and how your heart skipped many beats.

Alright, maybe you do remember exactly how and why you fell for Choi Jongho.

You feel a poke on your cheek that wakes you out of your daydreams, “Having another Choi Dream?”

Yeosang stretches as your professor drones on, his laptop screen completely blank. He spends most of his time in this class showing you cat videos and bothering you as you attempt to take notes.

“A what? What is that?”

He mindlessly scribbles on your paper, “It’s what I’m calling your fantasies about Jongho. You do it a lot.”

Unfortunately, having Yeosang as your best friend means he knows exactly what you’re thinking about all the time. He’s quietly observant of you, and he seems to have noticed all the discreet glances you direct towards Jongho.

Well, it’s hard not to realize your feelings when you yap Yeosang’s ear off about how ‘sexy’ (your words-not his) Jongho looks every night.

You don’t have the option to deny his factual statement, “You better not say that in front of him.”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender as your professor finally declares the lesson over. You’ll regret not paying attention later. For now, it’s a Friday and your last class has ended. You follow Yeosang out the building doors and into the breeze of the outside world. He throws an arm around your shoulders when he sees you shiver. The autumn leaves crunch under your feet as you walk towards wherever he takes you.

Yeosang hums in thought before finally speaking, “Ya know…I really think Jongho feels the same way about you. I can feel it in my gut,”

His tummy rumbles as you pat it, eliciting a chuckle from you, “Think you’re just hungry, guy.”

“Hmm…you’re right. Where should we go…?“

You wait for Yeosang to finish his thought, hand resting comfortably on his hoodie as you peer over the campus. It’s an oddly perfect day. The temperature isn’t too hot or too cold. The wind blows through your hair just enough to give you a movie star look. There’s people living their lives all around on old benches and picnic tables.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when Jongho’s voice pulls at your insides and drags you to the real world.

Jongho’s used to your closeness with Yeosang. He’d be institutionalized by now if he wasn’t. He tries to greet you both casually, but he can’t find it in himself. You’ve been friends with Yeosang for years, he knows that, this is normal for you.

But your hand rests so comfortably, so assuredly on Yeosang’s tummy. Such an intimate spot that raises a tinge of heat inside Jongho. He’s found you do that a lot to him ever since you met. You infuriate him and placate him all the same.

What a cliche, he thinks to himself, falling for my roommate’s best friend.

“What? Baby got a tummy ache?” He points to where your hand rests. The teasing smile on his face isn’t the same as the usual expression he wears when he makes fun of you. Like he’s holding something back.

You’re almost too quick in your removal of your hand, Yeosang’s wide eyes meeting yours as you push his arm off you, “Baby’s hungry. We’re gonna grab something to eat. Wanna join?”

You know the look Yeosang is giving you. It’s the disbelieving, doe-eyed, ‘Jesus, how bad do you want this guy?’ look he gives you every time Jongho comes around.

Jongho’s too focused on you to notice the way Yeosang’s eyes burrow into your head, “Sure. Long as you stop referring to Yeosang as ‘baby.’ It’s gross.”

Yeosang harrumphs as the three of you begin to walk, “I’m not gross.”

Jongho’s gut lights up again when you coo, “Aww. You are just a little, though.”

Your bickering is cute, sure. In fact, he finds it adorable how pouty you get every time he teases you. It’s just not as cute when you direct that attention to Yeosang.

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out later. Right now, he intends to share a good meal with a cute girl. And his roommate. He’ll focus on the first part.

The second time you notice he’s holding something back, you wake up in Yeosang’s bed.

Yeosang is stiff as a board beside you, bundled up and snoring away after your late night study session. He’d turned in early, leaving you and Jongho alone for a couple hours. It was nice to pretend he was all yours. You remember the way his heart-shaped lips sipped his Americano. The way his glasses slipped down his button nose every time he’d look down at your work. So cutely attuned to your success. He’d been so close you could smell his cologne all night and you’re pretty sure it fogged your memory. You definitely didn’t retain any of the information he tried to teach you.

You move over Yeosang’s resting body to get up as you hear the coffee maker in the kitchen. You don’t think as you drag whatever article of clothing nearest to you over your body. Just as long as it warms you up.

Jongho’s back faces you as you enter their tiny kitchen. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in such an…intimate setting. From what you can see he still has his bed head, drowsy yawns falling from his lips as he moves around. What really gets you is the thin undershirt he wears, fully exposing the warm skin of his arms that he’s always hiding. Just the sight of his broad shoulders has you dizzy. It’s almost jarring, like you’ve just plunged yourself into an ice bath first thing in the morning. You have to pretend to be normal as he notices you.

“Morning. Did I wake you?”

“Ah, no-“ you stumble over your words and your face burns as he raises a mug to his lips. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He leans on the countertop, casually taking in your flustering, babbling self.

You try to collect yourself, “I usually wake up early anyways.”

The smile he gives you sends another wave of butterflies-no, those must be wasps-flowing through your tummy.

“Good. Didn’t wanna ruin your beauty sleep or anything.”

The amount of emotions you’re going through this early pisses you off. You blush harder as you attempt to fight the bashful giggles that make their way through you, “Don’t worry, I don’t need sleep to look this beautiful.”

He chuckles and mutters a ‘sure’ before turning to prepare you a cup of coffee. It gives you another great view of his back muscles, which flex with every move he makes. Watching him is hypnotizing. Especially as he stretches his arms into the air, letting your eyes roam over every inch of him. The expanse of his body is…intimidating. You wonder if you could really take him.

Too early for those kind of thoughts, you think.

You shake your head and decide to do something rather than gawk at Jongho. You rummage through the cabinets, looking for Yeosang’s cakes you know he hides from you. With your back to Jongho, he tries to hand you your cup of coffee before pausing. He spots something. Usually he takes any chance he gets to watch you bent over, but the large letters on your back stops him from enjoying the sight. You’re too absorbed in your search to notice his confounded silence.

He manages to mutter out a pained sound, disguising it as curiosity, “Kang…?”

You turn towards him, confused. You realize, with Jongho’s accusing finger, raised eyebrow, and adorably frustrated face, that you’re wearing Yeosang’s team hoodie. The one that brands you as his with his last name sprawled out in big, black letters.

“Oh! I didn’t really see what I was putting on-“

There’s a pout on his face. He shoves the mug into your hands, still careful not to burn you. Before you can say anything, he’s forcing your body backwards into the counter as he stretches to retrieve something from the cabinet above you. He’s so close as he rummages, giving you a clear view of the adorable mole on his neck you always think about kissing. He smells like fresh laundry.

It’s not even like he’s doing it on purpose. He’s just so big that it unintentionally shoves you into him. Trapped between the counter and his chest is exactly where you want to be. You hope he never finds the snacks you’re looking for as your mouth salivates at the sight of his vast collarbone.

He finally snaps you of out of your wet dreams, “Sorry. He usually hides them in the way back.”

He pretends like the blush on your face doesn’t have him giddy to high heaven. The pout from before is gone now, replaced with a cocky smirk he’s trying hard to hold back. He might enjoy watching you break a little too much, making no attempt to move as he memorizes the way your wide eyes look below him.

You breath in sync, and you’re sure he’s leaning in closer and closer…

“You know…” he sips on his coffee, “Next time you’re cold, just ask me. I’ll give you my hoodie.”

Then he retreats to his bedroom. Like it never happened.

The third and final time, you’re at Wooyoung’s birthday get-together he’d decided to host for you.

Watching Jongho gulp down drink after drink, so casual in his enforcement of self-control and power, has you really regretting the intimate setting. He looks breathtaking in the oversized jacket, and it’s affecting you even more now that you know what he’s hiding under those layers. You love how quietly alluring he is for you, drawing you in by just existing.

You’re not a light-weight, but you fear the effect of the drinks you did have are sped up by Jongho’s charm. Wooyoung and Yunho seem to notice your star struck manner and refuse to let up on the teasing, making up new ways every minute to make you blush harder.

Jongho’s busy talking to Mingi and Hongjoong across the room, but he’s not entirely focused on the conversation. He keeps hearing giggles from the three of you and he can’t help but turn his head every few minutes to throw a suspicious glance towards you. Hongjoong thinks he’s like a watchdog.

He sips his drink idly as Jongho turns back towards the conversation, “You act like they’re gonna chew her to bits.”

Jongho pretends to look confused, raising a questioning eyebrow and scoffing. Mingi doesn’t let him get away with it.

“Yeosang told me you’re the one who wanted to do this party in the first place.”

“I merely suggested the idea-“

Mingi continues, “You have an entire list of gift ideas.”

Jongho grumbles and gives up in his act of nonchalance. Instead of admitting anything, he only rolls his eyes and attempts to walk away as the two men shout at him to grow a pair. He pretends not to know them as the crowd around them turn to stare.

It’s overwhelming inside and you don’t even know half of the people coming up to you to wish you a happy birthday. Yeosang’s nowhere to be found and without your other half to fuel you, you decide to get a breath of fresh air. You hear Wooyoung’s cackle from somewhere inside the house.

It’s a cool night. The moon isn’t shining as much as it can, but it illuminates enough to let your senses come down and decompress. The porch is littered with trash from drunken party-goers, cigarette ashes covering the railing. The wind is a nice companion as it passes through, although, and it makes you forget about the mess inside of the house and inside of you.

For a moment. Before one of the major causes of your anxiety seems to find its way towards you again.

Jongho’s voice is teasing, “Wooyoung’s gonna be mad if he finds you out here.”

He leans onto the railing a few feet from you. Like he’s afraid to be near you, as if he wasn’t stealing your breath and pressing himself right against you the other day.

You chuckle at the thought, “He’s definitely too drunk to even know what’s going on right now.”

You feel his stare burn through the side of your face. It’s a strange pressure you feel in your heart, familiar but threatening. A steady beat with suspicious undertones.

Jongho’s breath catches for a moment, hesitant before voicing his question, “Is it…I mean, are you having fun?”

There’s a quiet, hidden vulnerability in his words. He wants to ask something deeper, something that actually allows you to reveal yourself to him but ‘fun’ is all he can manage. There’s already a blush creeping up the back of his neck and he hopes to God you don’t notice when you turn to look at him.

You look at him with stars in your eyes and the air is almost knocked out of him, “‘Course I am. Especially out here with you.”

He’s so careful in his attempt to hide his shyness, but you see right through him. You see the need for connection and honesty, as hidden as it is. You’re just not sure whether it’s on the same level of connection that you want. Jongho only smiles shyly at your words, biting back his full gummy smile.

He moves closer, standing upright and facing you fully. He hesitates for a moment, fumbling with his hands before he holds a gift bag to you like a kid asking for Halloween candy.

“Here.” He gestures hurriedly, embarrassment growing every moment that passes by with your eyes locked onto the brown paper bag.

“This is…for me?”

Jongho pouts and shakes the bag in annoyance, “What does it look like?”

“Alright, if you’re gonna be sassy-“

He rolls his eyes and pulls the gift out himself, shoving it towards you once again in an attempt to hide his shaking hand.

It’s the necklace you’d been eyeing. The one you hadn’t told anybody about, but kept looking back to on the online storefront. You’d just been waiting for the right moment to buy it, but Jongho beat you to it.

Your hands touch his as you take it and Jongho has to manually breath, “How did you-“

“You kept looking at it in between our study sessions. I don’t know if it’s the right color.”

You stop his bashfulness, “Jongho. It’s perfect.”

That seems to soothe him, “Okay, good.”

There’s a moment of silence between you as you inspect the pretty necklace in your hands. He’s too focused on the look on your face. The dorky smile you don’t even know is there, the same one you get every time you guess a homework answer correct. This feeling has been filling his chest uncomfortably for the past few months, and now he’s gotten to the point of bursting watching the giddy giggles pour out of you.

That past shyness is gone now, “You know I like you, right?”

“…What?”

He pouts, “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

The necklace is forgotten now, “Uh…no?”

He rolls his eyes again (prick) before pulling you into a kiss. It’s the kind of once in a lifetime kiss that makes your knees buckle and the tingles in your spine grow into fireworks. His hand on your cheeks moves down to your waist, pulling you in to have you as close as possible. Jongho thinks that as long as he touches you, he’s grounded. Won’t float off into outer space like he wants to as your glossed lips move against his.

The wind blows again and you can’t help but giggle as you both sway. Jongho can’t help but swoon when he hears that harp-like sound again, repeating it over and over in his brain until he hears another angelic sound from you to keep him afloat.

One kiss and he’s already addicted.

Your hands land on his broad chest as he holds you against him, “Ok, that was pretty obvious.”

“Shut it.”

You kiss him again. Again and again and again until he’s satisfied.

bonus:

Wooyoung had insisted on opening your presents once the party had ended, left only with your close knit group of friends.

There’s red solo cups littered on the floor and San trips over nothing as he attempts to give you an emotionally charged congratulatory hug. You choose to ignore the snot stains he leaves on your shirt as Jongho pulls him off you. Hongjoong giggles beside him.

“Ok, this one-“ Seonghwa hiccups, “is from me and Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung claps beside you as Seonghwa hands you the crinkled Dollar Tree baby shower themed bag.

“Aww! You guys, you really didn’t have to-“

There’s a collective pause before the room bursts into laughter. Only Seonghwa remains stone-faced and serious.

Jongho grimaces at the pink, fuzzy handcuffs you hold in your hand. Yunho wolf-whistles beside him, as if the younger won’t do anything to hurt him once he’s sober and able to feel it.

Seonghwa attempts to shush the crowd, “I want you-“ he points towards Jongho, “to use these wisely and responsibly, okay?”

Wooyoung attempts to hug Jongho from behind, “Our little bear, all grown up…”

The night ends with Wooyoung handcuffed to his own stair railing.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #choi jongho #choi jongho x reader #choi jongho imagine #choi jongho fluff

93 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 11 hours ago

Note

Crazy idea: busty cow hybrid CEO x personal assistant reader. The assistant is timid and clumsy. The CEO finds it adorable and the reader cute (the reason she hired her) and she finds a lot of joy in flustering her. The assistant does normal assistant stuff but she is also hired to drain her boss's tits (she is not aware of this) and things get hot and heavy.

cow hybrid!boss x human!Reader Good to know: well... milking? not really graphic just a tease

After the interview, you were stunned when, just three days later, your now-boss called to offer you the job.

"It's yours if you are still interested, darling."

You were floored. To you, the meeting had felt like a catastrophe from start to finish, and you were sure you would never hear of her ever again.

The morning of the interview had been chaos. You miscalculated the time it would take to get to the office and ended up sprinting through the streets like a lunatic. A patch of ice nearly sent you flying, and by the time you finally reached the building, your shirt clung to you in damp patches, and there was no amount of awkward arm positioning that could hide them. You were a complete mess.

Then came the boss herself. When you stepped into her office and came face-to-face with the towering cow hybrid, your brain short-circuited. She was nothing like you expected. Her attire didn’t help your already frazzled nerves; a crisp, white button-down shirt strained against her full figure, clearly without the support of a bra. When you sat down across from her desk, your eyes betrayed you, lingering far too long on the way her shirt pulled taut over her breasts and dark nipples.

The second you snapped your gaze back to her face, her lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. It was the kind of expression that made it clear she’d noticed exactly where your attention had wandered, and worse, she didn’t mind it at all. If anything, she seemed amused.

“Enjoying the view?”

Your stammered apologies came out garbled, and she didn’t even bother hiding her chuckle. Instead, she began asking about your life, your experiences, and why you wanted the position. And your answers were... lackluster, to say the least. What could you say? You were sick of the monotony of working on a factory line at the edge of the city. The repetitive grind had worn you down, and even though you weren’t sure you were qualified for an office assistant role, you craved something different. Something better. You mumbled your way through the interview, painfully aware of how unimpressive you sounded. Yet, she listened patiently, her sharp eyes scanning you as if sizing you up for some invisible checklist.

When it was finally over, you left the building convinced you’d blown it, but she still called you three days later, and of course you were interested. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why she’d chosen you, but hey, you weren’t about to question it too much.

You are an assistant now, and you are determined not to ruin it for yourself. Especially since, let’s face it, you are not exactly a natural at this.

You stumble over tasks an experienced assistant could handle with their eyes closed. It is a constant uphill battle; you misfile documents, stammer through phone calls, and forget which cryptic post-it note means what.

Most days, you just focus on doing your best and keeping your head down.

It’s not easy, though. Working so close to the woman who gave you this chance and has the power to take it away at any moment is enough to push you into a mild panic all the time. And every time she calls your name, your stomach flips like you are about to be hauled into the principal's office just much worse.

The sharp click of her hooves against the tiled office floor makes your stomach plummet. She stops at the edge of your desk, her towering form casting a shadow over your scattered papers.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath while staring at her with wide eyes until she speaks. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost," she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Something on your mind?"

Your throat feels dry. "I- uh, I made a mistake," you stammer, clutching the report in your hands like it might shield you somehow. "I sent the wrong file to a client. I’m so sorry, I’ll fix it right away, but I just thought you should know-"

She tilts her head, and the amused glint in her eyes makes you feel like a mouse cornered by a very playful cat. Well, cow, but then, the analogy doesn't work so... "Relax," she says. "Mistakes happen. You are not going to get fired over one wrong file."

Oh, how you wish it were only one wrong file.

You blink, startled. "I’m not?"

"Not unless you want me to," she quips, her smile turning downright mischievous.

Your face burns. "N-no, of course not!"

"Good," she says. "Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to fetch me a coffee, and while you are doing it, don’t get lost this time."

Her gaze stays locked on yours, one brow arched in question until you nod.

"Good," she purrs. "And don’t forget the sugar this time. Sweet things are important to me."

The implication in her tone hits you like a shock wave, and you nearly trip over your chair in your rush to get away. Her soft laughter follows you all the way to the break room, where you take a moment to press your burning face against the cool metal of the coffee machine.

So, after all the chaos you’ve managed to create in just one month, you are not exactly shocked when your boss asks you to stay after work. Naturally, your mind races with possibilities. Fixing documents? Sure, that’s reasonable. Reviewing her plans for the week? Definitely within the realm of your responsibilities. You brace yourself for a long evening hunched over her desk, trying to make up for your earlier mistakes.

What you don’t expect is that the things she needs help with have nothing to do with spreadsheets, emails, or even her overwhelming calendar. No, it turns out your boss’s definition of help extends to something far more personal.

Because somehow, without warning, you find yourself tasked with something that was definitely not in your job description: dealing with your boss’s milk. No one warned you about this. Certainly, no one mentioned that you’d be standing a breath away from her, fumbling over buttons that seemed to mock your every move.

The realization hits you like a truck. In the awkward silence that follows her request, all you can think is how utterly unprepared you are for this.

"Careful," she murmurs in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. "I’d hate for you to tear it."

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the buttons of her shirt, the fabric taut and strained against her curves. The silence in the room feels heavy, filled only with the soft rustle of cloth as you work to unfasten each button. One by one, the gaps widen, revealing more of her generous curves beneath. When you finally undo the last button, the sight before you renders you utterly still. Her breasts, full, soft, and impossibly inviting, spill free from the confines of her blouse. Her hard, dark nipples glisten with droplets of pearly white milk.

Your throat tightens, and your gaze flickers up to meet hers. Her smirk is nothing short of predatory, her dark eyes glowing with satisfaction. She reaches out, her hand firm yet gentle as it finds the back of your neck.

"Be a good assistant, Y/N," Her voice is a velvety purr that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can process what’s happening, she is guiding you closer, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin, and your instinct takes over as the coherent thoughts leave your racing mind. Your tongue flicks out, capturing a droplet of milk that carries a sweetness unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.

The sound of her pleased hum fills the air, vibrating through you as her hand holds you steady. "Good," she murmurs, her tone dripping with approval as your lips part fully, your mouth closing around her. The soft pull of your suction elicits a low, throaty moan from her. "I knew you’d be perfect for the job."

#sweet asks #cow hybrid #monsterfucker #monster romance #monster x reader #monster x human #monster girlfriend #terato #terat0philliac

57 notes · View notes

crowsofdarkness · 1 day ago

Text

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Twenty Three

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

I let out a deep breath while pulling my jacket closer to my chest as I continued the walk down the busy streets of New York City. It was after six in the evening and everyone was rushing to get home to enjoy the rest of their evening while I was trying to make it to the office in time, before he left.

This wasn’t an easy decision I made, knowing the consequences that could follow. But I didn’t have any other choice. He was the only one that could help me with this.

The thought of if he would even want to help me did cross my mind a few times, especially with how things ended, but there was a small part of me that hoped his feelings for me were still strong. Strictly to help me with my problem, nothing else.

I hadn't talked to any of the three men I used to work with, deciding to stay off of social media because I couldn’t bother to see what happened with Bucky and Natasha. By now, he had to have realized that I was right; Natasha was faking the entire pregnancy.

Yet, I hadn’t heard from him so maybe he still decided to stay with her.

You told him to stay away. Eight months ago.

Shaking away the thought, I turned the corner and the all too familiar building came into view as with one last deep breath, I pushed through the door and my eyes landed on the person sitting at what used to be my desk. My heart hammered in my chest as his scent filled my senses.

“Well, it seems like the job isn’t available anymore, huh?”

He turned around in a haste in the chair, eyes grazing over every inch of me to make sure I had been standing in front of him.

The last time we talked was a few months ago and we actually hadn’t seen each other since before I quit. He looked the same, hair and beard a bit longer.

“Hi Steve,” I smiled.

“Y/N?”

Steve was quick on his feet to wrap his arms around me and lifted my body off of the ground a few inches. I closed my eyes at the warmth, silently missing him just as much.

“How have you been?” Steve asked while setting me back onto solid ground.

I nodded. “Good, I guess. How have things been here?”

Steve hesitated, his shoulders going stiff. “Have you talked to him at all?”

This time I shook my head so Steve gently led me to the couch in the main area of the office and we sat next to each other. He scratched at his beard, trying to find the right way to say this.

“He’s gone rogue the last couple of months. He doesn't need mine or Sam’s help for anything, he takes care of the problems himself.”

I pointed towards his office. “Is he here?”

Steve shook his head. “I haven't seen him all day. He called me earlier to say he’s got something to take care of so he’s going to be at Power Brokers tonight.”

My eyes narrowed. “He hates that club. Why would he go there?”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “He doesn’t tell Sam or I anything anymore. We only show up here now in case he needs us.”

“Are he and Nat-?”

He placed a hand on my knee, stopping the words. “That’s something Bucky has to talk to you about.”

With a slow nod, I contemplated my next move because I knew that if I went to Power Broker tonight, it would be a disaster from the start. That club was highly known as a black market, people trying to sell you things that you couldn’t buy anywhere else. But if you didn’t agree to it it would be highly unlikely that you would make it back out alive.

“Are you going to tell me why you showed up tonight?”

I gave Steve my attention now and shrugged. “Trust me, I would rather go to anyone else with this but Bucky is the only one that can help me.”

He cupped my cheek. “Please be careful.”

“Always,” I covered his hand with my own.

The music of the club vibrated against my bones as I maneuvered my way through the seas of people, who did their best to either dance with me or sell me on their latest project they had hiding in their pocket. I ignored all of them, keeping my focus on finding the one person that I needed.

When I asked the bouncers outside if they had seen Bucky, they were quick to give him up.

“He’s been causing problems here all night but refuses to leave. The men we have here isn’t nearly as strong as he is to kick him out.”

I was on high alert, skin tingling with my senses, as I observed the giant open dance floor of the club until some commotion at the bar piqued my interest. I watched as a guy was thrown onto the glass bar top, black and gold fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Where is she?!”

The voice was deep, angry, and wanted to know the answers.

My heart beat intensified as I marveled at how different he looked yet looking exactly the same. The brown leather vest that covered his broad chest was missing a sleeve, his entire vibranium arm on full display. He didn’t look like a mob boss any longer but more so a soldier.

The heat pooled between my legs but I squeezed them shut, knowing that now wasn't the time to think about that.

“I swear, I don’t know where she is! Last I heard, they were in Budapest!” The man struggled for his life under the tight grip around his throat.

“They were together?”

The man on the bar nodded, as best he could. “That’s what my guys tell me.”

As I saw a glimmer of sharp metal emerge from the pocket of the other man's vest, I finally decided to speak up.

“Bucky.”

My voice might have been hushed with the background noise of the club but I knew he heard because Bucky looked away from the man he had pinned, his once blue iris now dark stared back at me. The firmness in his body faded with his face softing, as he dropped the man to the floor below.

“Doll?”

I swallowed thickly at the old pet name because I couldn't get distracted, I needed to finish what I came for.

“I need your help,” I admitted with a sigh.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky barnes and yn #moment of weakness bucky barnes

57 notes · View notes

glamourwrites · 3 days ago

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕.

( gif credit )

— summary : after two years, you ended your "relationship" with drew.

— warnings : angst, fwbs , vague nsfw , jealousy , mention of punk.

— pairing : drew mcintrye x reader

— word count : 992

— writer's note : this is the first time i write after seven years. my writing is rusty, but hopefully, it'll get better as i start posting on here more.

— tag list : @espresscs / if you'd like to be on the tag list, send me a dm !

“i'm not joking.” you had responded with a firm tone in your voice, your arms crossed as you looked up at drew with a serious look.

both of you had been messing around ever since joining as a backstage interviewer two years ago. it was supposed to be a one-night stand; that's it. that then turned into friends who messed around after the show was over. it was supposed to be casual. it was supposed to be fun. no strings attached just like they had agreed on. then things started to change. it was not certainly for the best but for the worst. things between the both of you shifted as time passed. it went from not caring about what the other does to becoming jealous. something that you never expected to happen.

especially since you were never the type to be jealous but every time you would walk past him, you couldn't help but feel pain when he'd flirt with some of the women from the locker room. you never understood why you felt that. you and drew were nothing more than friends who made each other feel good whenever both of you needed it after a long day at work. so what was it that made you feel that way about him?

maybe it was because you would see drew take some of the women from the roster back to his hotel. where unfortunately, you would be next to his room where you could hear the moans, whimpers, and screaming while they were begging him to not stop. which made you uncomfortable. not because of the loud noises. but because the thought of him with someone else made your heart sink.

there were times when drew would distance himself from you. act as if he didn't fuck the shit out of you the other night. then he'd send you a text and ask if you wanted to hang out with him that night. you wanted to say no during those times but you couldn't help yourself but give in. oh, how you hated that he had that effect on you.

it was starting to confuse you every day. did drew like you as more than a friend or did he like you as someone he could go to when no one was around? nonetheless, it was taking an effect on you. he'd go from having mindless sex to being intimate and whispering how much he couldn't get enough of you and how no one but you made him want to.

god, your brain was all over the place and you couldn't fucking take it anymore. which is why you had distanced yourself from him. you hadn't talk to him until now.

“you're lying.” drew replied with a mocking chuckle, shaking his head side to side with a smug smirk. he didn't believe what you were saying because you two would go back together after not talking for a while. the same old routine, talk, have sex, and make up with one another. “i know you better than anyone you know yourself.”

hearing him say that, you felt agitated. your frustrations boiling, taking a deep breath before continuing on. “i'm not lying, andrew.” your voice quiet but able for him to hear. “you don't know me. it's been like what? a month since we talked to each other? yeah, i wouldn't say you do even if it's been two years.”

there was a brief silence before you continued on. “besides, i'm interested in someone else.” muttering under your breath, moving your gaze from his. you weren't lying when you said that. you'd been talking to none other than, cm punk. the man that everyone hates.

both of you had been talking for awhile now. he understood how you felt whenever you'd talk about drew. he never pushed you to tell you everything that was going on between the two of you. the only thing he said was if drew was making you feel this way, the only way to do so was to stop talking to him completely.

at first, you were hesitant because drew had been part of your life and made you feel special. yes, there were times when both of you did things that couples would do or he complimented how beautiful you looked. even praising how you've been a hard worker. but now… it didn't feel that way. in your eyes, drew was an acquaintance rather than a friend that you had confined yourself to.

licking the roof of her mouth, drew looked at you with a peculiar expression, trying to figure out if you were lying. you weren't lying because by now, you'd be crawling up to him but this time you kept your distance from him. “who's the lucky guy?”

“that's none of your business.”

“but it is now,” he told you, running his hand through his hair as a sigh of disbelief came from him. this couldn't be true. there was no way she'd stop him but he was wrong.

“i don't have time to go back and forth with you. i have to go. have a nice night.” and without hesitation, you passed him without glancing at him.

your mind was telling you to go back and tell him it wasn't true you were interested in someone else. but you knew you'd be lying to yourself. you had become more interested in punk than drew. it hurt but it was the truth and you weren't going to lie to yourself.

punk made you feel special. he listened to every word you said and spent time with you outside of work unlike drew. it was different, but the good kind. something you had never had in your entire life.

there was a part of you that believed drew did like you at some point but that was your mind being delusional.

he was a fire that you had loved so much until it burned.

#mine.#writings.#drew.#drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintrye x you #drew mcintrye one shot #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre fic #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction

28 notes · View notes

gyaruhana · 1 day ago

Note

oh my goodness I think I just turned into the happiest sapphic ever 😝😝 thank you so much for accepting my weird love for player 044 but anywho once you have time and feel like it I desperately need you to write hc's about her w a easily manipulated reader who believes in everything player 044 says and is sooo blindly in love and how a relationship would basically be with my sexy evil old powerful shaman wife 😼

also may I be ' 🐘' anon ? 🙂‍↕️

Seon-nyeo/Player 044 - easily manipulated!reader headcannons

Synopsis: Seon-nyeo with an easily manipulated reader..

A/N: first time writing for this character.. hopefully i serve her right !! also, yes you can be 🐘anon!

Warnings: manipulation, NOT PROOFREAD..

➠ To you, Seon-Nyeo was your savior.

➠ Someone who could protect during these deadly games and you may have immediately started relying on her..

➠ Seon-Nyeo was very much on board with how easily you trust her and didn't waste a second to keep you by her side along with the other few that followed her around

➠ she's ALWAYS saying that it's your fate to stay as her ally and that, if you don't, you'll die here

➠ She's honestly a little surprised by how quickly you just trust her and blindly follow her

➠ (and a little bit concerned)

➠ However, she doesn't let that stop her lies and manipulation because she needs sacrificial pawns for her survival !!

➠ At first, you were more of a pawn that she thought she'd sacrifice if it came down to it but.. she may have changed her mind quite quickly

➠ Especially since you keep trying to give your life away for her and you've barely known her for long

➠ Because of your total trust in her and your willingness to die for her survival, she totally does fall in love with you

➠ Her love might also be because you were actually genuinely nice to her unlike some of the other players. You weren't just pretending to be nice for the sake of appeasing the gods and she liked that a lot.

➠ when she does fall in love with you, she gets more manipulative but, this time, it's to protect you from other players

➠ she knew very well that some of the other players had gladly sacrificed their allies or strangers and she didn't like the idea of that happening to you

she actually isn't really one to fall in love so falling in love with you was something she didn't want to let go of

➠ She's always keeping you by her side from then on and frequently begs the gods above to not let anything happen to you

➠ Every morning, before a new game, she'll immediately tell you the gods blessed the two of you with good luck today so you'll be less nervous about the game you play that day

➠ Also, always partners with you during group games (thank god season 2 didn't have the marble game)

➠ Whenever she's sitting on that one bed above everyone else when the players are voting, most of the time she's looking at you.

➠ Usually you notice her quite quickly and give her a wave which she will return with a smile

➠ If you actually make the decision to not continue the games despite what she tells you, she may be slightly upset about it tbh..

➠ She'll go to you immediately and talk to you about your decision

➠ If it was pure fear that drove your decision to discontinuing the games, she will promise to keep you safe and mention that the gods have promised nothing but fortune for you

➠ She knows she can't really guarantee that and that its a white lie but she really doesn't want the games to end in case she can't find you again

➠ On that note, it does make her a little possessive.

➠ If anyone gets too close to you, she'll slowly walk over and look at who's chatting to you up and down before smirking as if she knows something they don't

➠ She basically stares at them until they leave i'm not gonna lie

➠ Off topic but i could honestly see her wanting to wear some sort of matching jewelry..

➠ like a bracelet or a necklace..

➠ Anyway, back to what I was saying -

➠ she honestly gets jealous easily but she doesn't lash out or anything

➠ like she's not the kind of person to drag you away randomly or do some sort of public display of affection

➠ her aura just scares the person away

➠ I'd also say she doesn't do a lot of PDA

➠ Not because she doesn't like it, she just doesn't do it much

➠ If you ask for it though, then she gladly will.

➠ Overall, manipulative but for the right reasons when you're dating

"Good morning," Seon-Nyeo speaks as she's crouched next to your bed, watching you slowly stretch and come to life. You had gotten used to seeing her by your bedside, smiling at you as she waited for you to finally wake up. It was a wonder how she always woke up before the music blared over the speakers. Her eyes watched you carefully as you sat up and she quickly made herself comfortable on your bed - sitting with her legs crossed. She always enjoyed watching you sleep peacefully. Just like she enjoyed watching your face light up when she told a slight white lie about luck being on your side today. Sure, lying was bad but if it made you more confident, she'd lie a million times. She was glad you trusted her so much. It made her feel rather.. good inside. Once you seemed more awake, she smiled and looked at you directly in the eyes. "The gods have once again promised nothing but good fortune for today so there's no need to worry,"

#xaeinfinity #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #seon nyeo #player 044

29 notes · View notes

xxelliewxx · 2 days ago

Text

Fire and Frost {Ellie x Reader} Ch. 2

Pairings: loser!(AFAB)Reader x hockey player!Ellie

Synopsis: When y/n is requested to tutor Ellie Williams in organic chemistry, she expects arrogance and attitude from the hockey player. However, she discovers a different aspect of Ellie’s tough exterior, revealed through humor and fleeting glances. This raises the question: why does Ellie go to great lengths to embarrass and harass y/n whenever they are in the presence of others?

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, sexual/physical assault, alcohol, violence, trauma (if I miss any let me know!)

w/c: 2.4k

an: this is my first time ever posting fanfic on Tumblr, so feedback is completely welcome! this is not proofread and is a work in progress.

Ch 1: Iron Bonds

Carbon Memory

The Chemistry Club frequently served as your refuge where you could momentarily escape your past and current traumas. Serving as the President of the club was something you took pride in, using your position to inspire a deeper love and understanding of such a complex topic. You excelled in event planning, frequently jotting down ideas on your iPad for potential projects to showcase throughout the campus, aimed at attracting new members to the club. With only 15 members to represent, the chemistry club lacked funding to continue its meetings.

Dr. M was confident that you would discover a means to secure additional funding to maintain operations, and her trust in your capabilities rendered failure an impossibility. This is why you found yourself scribbling idea after idea, hoping to promote them at tonight's meeting. Dina, your friend since Freshman year, hovered over your shoulder, providing unwanted commentary, and scoffing at some of your ideas.

"Wow, Y/N, I always knew you were a bit of a nerd, but I didn't realize it was to this level! A scavenger hunt based on the periodic table? Seriously?"

You let out an exasperated sigh at your friend, quickly grabbing your iPad from her grasp and shielding your work, desperate to put an end to the relentless chatter. "Just leave me alone, D. If you're not going to offer the support and ideas you promised, you might as well spend time with Jesse, which is clearly what you prefer."

Dina swatted your arm playfully before taking the seat next to you, glancing at the iPad once more. "Fine, Y/N, I'm just messing with you. Sheesh, what has your panties in a wad?"

You shot her a fierce look, placing the apple pencil aside with a thud. "Dina, I am really not up for this right now. Especially now that I will be losing my mornings to that insufferable Ellie. I can't believe Dr. M would do me dirty like that." You threw your hands up in frustration.

Dina's eyebrows arched high, nearly disappearing into her hair as she exclaimed, "She what?! Seriously, Ellie didn't say a word about this during morning skate yesterday. She always jumps at the opportunity to shit-talk you."

Your jaw dropped at her remark, "Fuck you, Dina." You smacked her shoulder, defensively, fully aware she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Yet, deep down, you knew there was a grain of truth in her jabs. It was no secret that the captain had a strong dislike for you, a mystery you had long since stopped trying to unravel.

Dina giggled, munching on some Twizzlers she produced from her backpack, using it to point at your face. "You know, sometimes I wonder if she just actually want's to fuck you. I mean, seriously, she brings you up far too often. Anytime she brings you up, Coach makes her do suicides in full gear."

You felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks at your friend's teasing remarks, a whirlwind of images flashing through your mind that you desperately tried to banish. "Oh, come on, D, I just want this semester to end. I seriously doubt she'll be in any of my classes again, she's barely passing this one."

The thought of never seeing the auburn haired girl again stirred a whirlwind of feelings within, with relief rising to the forefront. You could daydream. Huffing, you glanced at your watch seeing it was quarter to 8, your nose wrinkled. "Speaking of, I have to go meet Williams in the library in a few. Please text me some of your ideas, I really need your help."

Shoving your iPad into your backpack, you quickly grabbed the Twizzler from Dina's grasp, savoring the sweet, chewy treat. Dina shot you a fierce look, saying, "You're lucky you're my best friend. Have fun on your date." Her eyebrows danced playfully, hinting suggestively.

"Fuck you," You muttered under your breath, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you left the dining hall. Each step toward the library felt heavy, a sense of dread creeping in with every footfall. This was far from the semester you had envisioned; you were determined to steer clear of the girl as best as you could.

As you checked the time on your watch, a wave of panic washed over you; you were already late for your first tutoring session, and you could already imagine the endless teasing that awaited you. With a swift motion, you pushed open the heavy oak doors and swept your gaze across the study hall. There she was, lounging in the far corner, her feet casually resting on the table as if she owned the place. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you approached her, noticing her engrossed in scribbling doodles in her notebook.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, don't you, geek?" Ellie kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, playfully teasing without even glancing your way. The nickname that was supposed to be sweet ignited a fire of anger within you, as it was evident that it was being wielded as a tool for mockery rather than affection.

Shoving her feet off the table, you brushed aside her piercing gaze, which was locked onto you with an intimidating animosity, as you began to arrange your study materials. "Not everyone can lounge around looking cool all day while Mommy and Daddy pay for everything, many of us are tied down with responsibilities and jobs."

As you dug into the depths of your backpack to retrieve your textbook, a heavily tattooed hand suddenly crashed down onto its cover, making you flinch in surprise. "Do not speak about me as if you fucking know me. Mention my parents one more time and I will fucking end you."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with the hockey player. After enduring months of torment, you had resolved long ago to hold your ground with her, and today was no exception. "You need me just as much as I need you so I suggest you get used to the idea of me."

Her hand rested on your textbook, veins pulsing with fury as it shook before she clenched it into a tight fist. "I have no desire to see you as anything other than the loser geek who assisted me in keeping my grades up. To me, that's all you will ever be—nothing beyond that."

You fumed, "I don't know what world you're living in where I have any intention of getting to know you, don't flatter yourself. You see, Ellie, this is your problem is that you have such an inflated ego, thinking that everyone and everything exists just to cater to you."

She leaned back in her chair, arms folded tightly, her fingers twitching as if battling the urge to punch you. With her teeth clenched, Ellie shot back, "Like you said, you need me just as much as I need you. So let's get this over with."

You flipped open your textbook, deliberately avoiding her piercing gaze, silently wishing for this session to pass in a blur. "What are you having trouble with in this class? It's been pretty straightforward until now."

Ellie exhaled loudly, reaching for your wrist that was currently flipping through the pages. "Seriously, dork, if you want this to be as painless as possible you'll cease to insult my intelligence. I get the fundamental ideas; I'm not a fucking moron. I bombed the last test because I struggle with equations, and those organic reactions totally tanked my score."

Throwing your hand out of her grasp, Ellie pulled out her notebook you had been admiring the other day, finding the doodles to be adorable. Adorning the tattered cover were whimsical illustrations inspired by the cosmos and clever wordplay. One particular pun caught your eye: an otter, fishing pole in hand, pulling in a fish with the playful phrase, "I'm Otterly Hooked." You couldn't help but giggle, stifling the sound with your hand.

Ellie quirked an eyebrow, the one with the slit in it that you found oddly appealing, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion over the cause of your sudden outburst. "Is there something I am missing? What's so funny about me completely wrecking my GPA?"

You could feel her irritation rising as you hurriedly clarified your reasoning to diffuse the escalating tension. "Sorry, but I can't help it—your notebook is adorable! I really enjoy a twist on words."

The hockey player's shoulders visibly eased, the weight of her tension lifting with your confession. She massaged the back of her neck and said, "Yeah, me too," before clearing her throat. Turning her attention back to her test, she focused intently on the red marks scattered across her paper.

An unexpected ease settled in, almost like you guys finding a shared interest on such a mundane subject broke the ice just a little bit. A grin spread across your face when you noticed the same spark of amusement in the girl with forest-green eyes. Inspiration struck as you hastily pulled out your iPad. The other girl raised an eyebrow at your actions, clearly curious about your next move.

Sticking your tongue out you scribbled out your own version of word-play, exhilaration surging through you. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you added the final details to your artwork, then, with a mix of excitement and nervousness, you placed the device down, eager for Ellie to admire your masterpiece. Leaning herself forward, Ellie chuckled. On your iPad was a shark giving a thumbs-up, bubbles spelling out "Fintastic".

"As much as I love punny jokes, I really need to get some studying done before morning practice," she sighed. "Coach is already breathing down my neck about how I'm 'not demonstrating leadership qualities with my poor grades,'" she said, deepening her voice to mimic her coach, complete with exaggerated air quotes.

You found yourself instinctively extending your arm across the table, taking her hand in yours, a wave of sympathy washing over you. "Even if you stumble on a few tests, it doesn't define your ability to lead. I can see, despite our differences, that you genuinely care for the people around you."

Ellie stopped breathing as she looked down at your hand, as fragrant tendrils of lavender rose to her nose in powerful bursts. You purchased a vial of lavender oil the very night following your encounter, discovering a deep sense of comfort in its soothing aroma. Ellie shook her head vigorously, pulling her hand away from yours with a huff. "Stop pretending you know me, you dork," she muttered, irritation lacing her words.

You couldn't help the hurt that flooded your chest at her actions, making it feel like for every stride you made, you were being pulled two steps back into the shadows. "Whatever, Ellie. Just give me your test packet, I can draw up some practice equations."

Taking the paper from her grasp, you found yourself pleasantly surprised by her handwriting, which you had anticipated to be a jumbled mess. Instead, it was surprisingly tidy and even quite lovely. As you scanned through her incorrect answers, the source of her errors started to become clear. She was neglecting the solvent reactions, a detail that could be easily adjusted.

You looked up at Ellie, noticing her fingers gently gliding over the tattoo on her forearm, which peeked out from under her hockey sweatshirt. The name "Ellie Williams" was elegantly inscribed in flowing cursive across her right chest, accompanied by the school mascot nestled beneath it, her muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric. Ellie sensed the weight of gazes upon her and locked eyes with you, her expression devoid of any feeling, as if she possessed the power to erase all traces of emotion, making you shiver.

Clearing your throat, embarrassed at being caught staring you asked, "Ellie, do you remember SN1 vs. SN2 or E1 vs. E2?"

Ellie's brows knitted together in confusion as she shook her head. "No, I don't. Was that part of the test?" As she reached for her paper, her finger brushed against yours while she held onto the packet. She appeared completely unfazed by the contact, but you felt a rush of emotions from that fleeting touch, struggling to suppress the stir of feelings it ignited within you.

Ellie's confusion morphed into frustration as she flung the paper onto the table between you two, her arms crossing defiantly, a familiar gesture of hers. "When the fuck did we learn this? I feel like I would have remembered that shit."

Reflecting on the time when the hockey player was missing from the lecture hall, you pinpointed the date when this chapter was covered. "We went over this two weeks ago, right at the end of September. But you weren't around," you said softly, the last part slipping out almost shyly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with how closely you had noticed her attendance. She had been absent for a whole week, and even her friends were left in the dark about the reasons for her disappearance.

You had failed to be discreet as she instantly caught on to your observation. "How do you remember when I was or wasn't in class," Ellie asked, her tone surprisingly warm rather than angry, as if she appreciated your attention. The flicker of warmth quickly vanished as she shook her head. "Whatever, it's not a big deal, I will just talk with Dr. M and this whole arrangement can be finished."

Ellie didn't pause for your response; she sprang to her feet, shoving her books and notes into her backpack with a sense of urgency. In a whirlwind of emotion, she dashed out of the library, leaving you in a state of turmoil. The air around you felt heavy with silence as you sat there, rooted to your chair, struggling to muster the strength to move. Confusion swirled in your mind, and it wasn't until you finally resolved to gather your belongings that you began to erase any trace of your encounter, clearing the table as if to wipe away the memory of her presence.

As you reached for your iPad to lock the screen, your gaze was caught by a whimsical illustration beside your shark. There, next to the fierce creature, was a cheerful seal donning a festive party hat, joyfully proclaiming "Sealebration." The image stirred a wave of melancholy within you, a reminder of the frustration you felt over her unwillingness to engage with you civilly, despite the undeniable connection that seemed to linger between you.

A message pinged, shattering your focus on the scene before you. You grabbed your phone, heart racing with the hope that it was from a particular athlete. Your enthusiasm fizzled out the moment you saw Dina's name flashing on your notifications.

Dina: How about a Periodic Table Fashion Show! We could call it "Atomic Fashion" or "Noble Gas Glam"

For once, you didn't find amusement in a pun.

#ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #dina tlou #abby tlou #abby anderson #x reader

22 notes · View notes

dollyichi · 1 month ago

Text

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

#bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #my hero academia fluff #ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola

3K notes · View notes

classyrbf · 6 months ago

Text

YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

GOJO

ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.

NANAMI

nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.

GETO

geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”

CHOSO

I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.

5K notes · View notes

evilmenenjoyer · 12 days ago

Text

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you.

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you.

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #my fics

1K notes · View notes

demonpiratehuntress · 2 months ago

Text

they make you cry

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - sometimes you just can't handle the things they say/do

warnings - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

taglist - @kabloswrld

a/n - this took forever to write, and I'm sorry! had to fight my writer's block real hard to get this out ☠️ some of them seem rushed and im sorry about that too!

ZORO

Zoro could be mean, you knew this when you started dating him. He didn't mince his words, nor did he sugarcoat anything. Especially when he was angry, that's when he could be the cruelest. You just never expected to be on the receiving end of that cruelty.

You were just trying to help, honestly. You thought it might be a nice gesture if you wiped his swords clean for him while he napped, and you thought he'd appreciate it. But the moment you dropped them while putting them back and woke him up, it was like something had possessed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded, sitting up and looking at you, his eyes hard.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to clean them for you," you tried explaining yourself, hoping he wouldn't be too angry. Hoping he would calm down and stop looking at you like that.

"Why would you think that?" He scoffed. "I clean them myself, there's no need for you to do it. There's no need for you touch them at all, actually."

"I'm sorry," you apologised again, shrinking away and feeling hurt by his tone already.

"Just don't do it again," he snapped, "You don't know anything about swords. It wouldn't be such a problem if you were more like me and less like you."

"Less like me?" The tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, just go away and let me nap."

And go away you did. You left his room with your eyes almost overflowing, hand covering your mouth to stifle the sob that was about to come out. You didn't understand what brought that on, why he had been so mean to you.

"(Name), wait-"

You ran off the moment his door opened again, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as possible. You were hurt, so incredibly hurt, that you barely made it to your room before you broke down in tears, burying your face in your hands. You tried to calm down, you did, but his unprovoked verbal attack struck you right where it hurt the most, your heart. You didn't understand what he meant by "less like you", and you didn't think you wanted to. It was insult enough already.

A knock on your door startled you, and you quickly wiped your face to try and get rid of the tears but your eyes were still red and puffy. Which was immediately noticed by the swordsman when you opened the door, and he frowned.

"Were you crying?"

"What do you want?" You asked him, sniffing. "Did you come to insult me more? Maybe tell me again to stay away from your precious swords? Save it."

"I'm sorry," he interjected, taking you by surprise. He shifted nervously, not really knowing how to apologise but wanting to try because you meant more to him than he could ever say and he hated that he'd hurt you.

"Is that it?" You scoffed, about to close the door.

"No, no wait!" He stopped you, swallowing thickly and looking at the floor. "You know I'm not good with apologies. But I mean it when I say I'm sorry for what I said. You were just trying to do something nice for me and I snapped at you because I was in a mood. The stupid cook annoyed me earlier and I...didn't mean to take it out on you."

You crossed your arms, trying to look mad but you only looked sad and it tugged at Zoro's heartstrings, "Okay."

His expression softened, and when you allowed him he pulled you into his arms and hugged you, trying to show how sorry he was through his actions since he couldn't say it. He rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a gentle and apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

"But if you speak to me like that again, I'm throwing your swords into the ocean."

He chuckled, "Deal."

He spent the next few days making it up to you in various ways, either buying you a special gift from any island you stopped by, or hugging/cuddling you a little longer than usual, or teaching you some moves with his swords to prove he trusted you with them. Eventually, when his overbearing affection started worrying the crew, you had to forgive him.

ACE

The crew was celebrating a big win. Stopping by a nearby island, majority of the crewmembers could be found in bars and taverns, drinking their weight in alcohol. You were amongst them, not drinking as much but joining the merriment regardless. You smiled at the antics of your crewmates, who were trying to drunkenly flirt with woman around the room.

Your smile vanished the moment your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was busy entertaining a crowd of younger women with the tale of your victory.

Now normally that isn't a cause for upset with you, but he tended to get a little overfriendly and even though you've spoken to him about it many, many times, he hasn't made an effort to stop his flirting - even if he didn't see it as flirting, those women certainly did. And that was the problem, he always let them think that and allowed them to get handsy with him.

You rolled your eyes, downing your drink so you could get out of here. When you lowered your pint again, the sight of one of their hands on his arm made you sick. Usually you would get angry and storm over there and break up the party, but today the sight brought tears to your eyes. It hurt you that he always did this, even when you'd asked him not to.

"(Name), where you going?" One of your crewmates asked you when they noticed you getting up. "It's still early!"

You forced a smile, trying to hide your glassy eyes, "I, uh-"

"(Name)!" Ace called you cheerfully, waving you over, "Come here!"

You frowned, then shook your head before turning and leaving the bar, letting the tears fall now that you were out of sight from the rest of the crew. Your vision blurred on the way back to the ship, but you somehow managed to get there without hurting yourself and broke down into quiet sobs as you sat on your bed and buried your face in your hands.

Sometimes it felt like you weren't enough for him, whether it was physically or emotionally. He could make you feel like the worst lover sometimes, like you couldn't give him what he wanted, even if he didn't mean to. You knew he had commitment issues, but you thought your relationship was getting more serious at this point.

"(Name)!" Ace burst into the room, looking worried. "Hey, why did you leave?"

You didn't answer, turning away from him and curling up into a foetal position facing the wall your bed was placed against. You couldn't look at him right now, not when the tears wouldn't stop.

"Baby?" He called again, the bed dipping beside you to indicate that he had sat down. "I know you're not asleep."

He reached out and gently touched your shoulder, urging you to turn around and face him. You sighed and shifted around, looking at him with a tear-stained face. His eyes instantly went wide and he flew into a panic.

"What happened? Did someone do something to you?"

"Ugh, stop it," you groaned, sitting up. "Don't pretend to care about me when you constantly do what I tell you hurts my feelings." Just mentioning it again brought the tears back, and you cursed.

He frowned when you said this, "But I wasn't flirting with them."

You gave him an exasperated look, "Do you ever realise that they consider it flirting? That they try to seduce you with all their little touches and stupid flirty smiles? No, you don't." You hastily wiped your eyes, now getting angry.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, Ace. You do this all the time. And it really, really hurts."

His expression softened, and he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap with ease. No matter how mad you were at him, your body never fought his touch or embrace.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into your hair. "I didn't realise they were trying to do that. I was so caught up in telling the story, especially the part where you took out all of those pirates, that I didn't see they weren't really interested. I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

The sincerity in his voice eased your mood, and you slowly stopped crying and pulled away to look at him, "Next time just ask me to come sit with you."

"I'll do better than that baby, I'll put you on my lap."

"You know that doesn't end well."

"On the contrary-"

You sighed and shook your head, unable to help the smile that formed on your lips. He really was an idiot, but he was your idiot and even if he did stupid things a lot of the time, you loved him very much.

KAKU

You and Kaku hardly ever fought, because he was a very patient and very reasonable man. He never gave you any reason to be upset with him, because while he was a ruthless assassin, to you he was an absolute sweetheart. The only problem was that he sometimes left for long missions, and you were left worrying about him at home and not knowing what was going on because he was deep undercover that he couldn't even contact you.

Like now, where he was working undercover as a foreman in Water 7. You had asked him once again if you could come with, seeing as neither of you knew how long he'd be away this time. But he refused, gently reminding you that he didn't want to put you in any danger and that your house - so far off the grid absolutely no one knew about it - was the safest place for you. You had no other option but to agree.

After many, many months spent worrying about him and struggling to sleep not knowing what's going on, your boyfriend stumbled in through the front door one night absolutely destroyed. You'd come down with one of his swords in hand - one that he kept around the house for you - only to stop dead at the sight of Kaku standing there. Actually, standing was generous. He was barely keeping himself off the ground, tall frame hunched over and trembling.

"Oh my god, Kaku!" You dropped the blade and rushed to his side, laying one of his arms around your shoulders so you could at least help him to the couch. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story," he groaned, laying his head over the back of the couch and closing his eyes. "Short version - the Straw Hats."

You frowned at his brief response, going to fetch your first aid kit - you'd learned after the first few times he came home that you'd need one - and bringing it back to him.

"I think I deserve an explanation," you pressed, sitting beside him and starting to tend to his more obvious wounds. "You owe me that much."

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled. "I'm sorry."

You didn't respond, and he cracked an eye open to see why. When he noticed how your eyes had become glassy and your bottom lip was trembling but you were biting it hard to stop it, his expression softened.

"Oh, honey."

He gently took the first aid from you and set it aside before bringing you into his arms, wrapping them around you securely. He pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head, ignoring the pain as he held you against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"This is the worst I've ever seen you," you managed to get out, your voice small and hurt. "I had no contact with you for the longest time since you started working for them, and then you come back looking like this..." You couldn't help it, the tears just kept falling no matter how hard you tried to stop them.

He held you tighter, then moved one hand up to wipe your tears away, "But I came back, didn't I? I'm here."

You knew he was trying to reassure you, but it was difficult to be reassured when he constantly did this to you. You looked at him sceptically.

"Why would I ever risk dying?" He questioned softly, cupping your cheek in his large hand. "I have you to come home to, I don't put myself in a situation I don't think I can come out of." He kissed the tip of your nose, to make you smile like it always did. "Besides, did you ever think that maybe I like having you play nurse for me?"

You managed a small smile, warmed by his words, "Oh you do, huh?"

"Mhm."

"I guess I can forgive you. On one condition."

"Anything, honey."

"I'm coming with you on your next assignment."

"...I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope."

He sighed, but planted a loving kiss on your forehead, "If it will ease your mind, then okay. But you have to let me make sure your cover is safe too."

"Deal."

LAW

Law was a very complicated man, with a lot of baggage and trauma he liked to keep away from everyone else. He was reclusive, and he never quite expressed his emotions as healthily as he should. Most days you did your best to understand, to step back and be the more rational one. But sometimes his actions don't make sense, and he ends up hurting you a lot more than he thinks - or notices.

Take the last few days, for example. You two had grown quite close over the course of your relationship and he was now quite comfortable with you and showing you affection - although still privately. But ever since you'd met the Straw Hat crew and he'd been introduced to their smartest member, Robin, he'd been a lot more distant and a lot less affectionate. Like he was beginning to forget you existed.

You started to feel insecure about not being as intelligent as her and not having anything in common with your boyfriend. You'd never liked books, they paled in comparison to the adventures you embarked on on a daily basis. But now it had come back to haunt you, and in the worst way possible.

"Law, do you want to-"

"Not now, (Name)-ya," he didn't even look up from his work. "I'm just finishing some notes on something that Robin asked for."

"Oh, okay. Let me know when you're-"

"I will be heading to their ship shortly, she has a collection of books I would like to study."

"...Right. Okay."

You blinked back tears, knowing he would just get irritated with your emotional display. Turning away from him, you left the room to go get some air and maybe feel sorry for yourself. It did hurt, him immediately dismissing you for another woman, even if it wasn't romantic. He was spending less time with you, and more time with her.

"(Name)!"

Your face lit up, thinking Law had finally come to his senses. But when you turned around, you saw him making his way to the Thousand Sunny while Bepo was the one who had called out to you. And then you couldn't hold it back anymore; you burst into tears.

You usually didn't cry like this. You were good at keeping your emotions in check. It was a side-effect of being around the stoic captain so much - you'd learned how to control your own emotions. But right now, it was too much to bear and your insecurities and fears came crashing down around you, drowning you in sorrow.

"What's wrong??" Bepo asked worriedly, immediately pulling you into a hug. "Did something happen?"

"No," you hiccupped, "I mean, yes, but it doesn't matter."

Your eyes drifted to the deck of the Sunny, where Law was engaged in what looked like a meaningful conversation with the female devil fruit user. Sighing, you tried your best to wipe your eyes and gently pushed Bepo away.

"I'm okay, I just...I need to be alone."

As you walked off, Bepo followed your gaze and spotted the issue. He frowned, having also noticed that his captain had recently been preferring Robin's company over his own girlfriend.

"Captain!" The bear called, rushing over to Law and Robin.

"Not now, Bepo," Law dismissed him, returning his attention to the raven-haired woman.

"But something is wrong with (Name)!" Bepo protested, whoch was a half-lie, half-truth. There was something wrong, but it wasn't with you. He just knew Law wouldn't follow him back otherwise.

"What?" Law instantly felt worry start to fill him. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, I saw her just now, crying, and then she ran off."

Law frowned. He didn't like it when you cried. Not because it was irritating, but because he always got this weird, ugly feeling when you did. You should never have to cry, you should never have to feel pain. Instantly, he goes back to the Polar Tang but not to look for you. He just simply uses his devil fruit to get you back into his room, and when he does he feels guilty by the sight.

Your eyes are red and puffy and you're sniffing like you're sick, but you're not sick. You're avoiding his gaze and casting your eyes downward to the floor, unable to look at him. And you're hugging yourself.

"(Name)-ya," he calls, hoping to get you to look at him.

"I thought you were with Robin," you tell him quietly, the hurt evident in your small, vulnerable voice.

He frowns, "I was, but-"

"Then we don't need to talk about anything," you cut him off. "I'm fine, go bacl to your conversation." You can't help being a bit snippy, tired of crying and even more so of being sad.

"You have been crying," he argued, "That is my concern."

"Oh really?" You suddenly glared at him. "I didn't think you'd notice. But you didn't, did you? Bepo had to tell you, because you were so engrossed in your new girlfriend!" You scoffed, rubbing your face and getting up. "Leave me alone."

"No," Law blocked your path out of the room. "I want to talk about this. And...I want to apologise for hurting you." He paused awkwardly, never good with apologies. "I didn't mean to spend so much time with her and neglect you, I promise. I just kept losing track of time, and I got a little bit eager that someone else was interested in some of the same things I am."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm not that person. I'm sorry I'm not your ideal girlfriend." The tears started falling again, and the ache returned to Law's chest.

"That's not what I meant," he moved closer, "You are perfect just the way you are. I don't want you to be like me, I don't think I could date someone like me. I often wonder how you do it."

Your eyes widen at the vulnerable revelation, and that leads you to start listening to his sincere words and slowly calm down.

"If I neglect you like that again, please just tell me," he pleaded, taking your hands in his. "Don't suffer in silence, I don't like seeing how it's affected you. And I don't like being the reason you cry. So please, just talk to me when I hurt you. Pull me away from any conversation, throw my books, whatever. Just make sure I listen."

"Okay," you slowly smiled, nodding. "But you can't yell at me if I do."

He sighed, but felt relieved that he was forgiven, "I won't."

"Great. Now you owe me a lot of cuddles and even more kisses," you pout. "And double the amount of hugs."

"Done, done and done," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss you sweetly and gently.

LUFFY

If Luffy hasn't upset you in some way, you'd be suspicious. His carefree nature was bound to anger or frustrate you in some way or the other, and his tendency to overexert himself in fights often ended with you concerned for his health in general. He's never made you cry, because if there's one thing Luffy can do well it's keep his promises.

Until he meets Boa Hancock.

And you get it. She's gorgeous, she's powerful, she's a queen. She's everything a woman should be, and you can't help but feel envious of the attention she gets from men. Luffy doesn't really care for her looks, which is a little comforting, however she found the way to his heart and every time you guys met her on the ocean she had the nerve to throw him a huge feast. And your beloved, naive boyfriend always thought she was just being nice and gorged himself on her food, missing the way she looked at him longingly and not understanding her flirtatious advances.

But you understood them very well.

But as mentioned before, she's a powerful person. Not just because she's a devil fruit user, but also because she's a Warlord. You knew you couldn't piss her off in any way, for the safety of the crew, but she had no such qualms. It seemed she knew that you hated how much she attended to Luffy, she knew how much you hated her advances and how Luffy always ate whatever she offered. And she abused her title, doing it on purpose because she knew there was nothing you could do.

Most of the time it was just frustrating beyond comparison. But slowly it ate away at you, and one particular meeting had you excusing yourself in an attempt to escape what seemed like a suffocating situation.

Boa was once again on your ship - it seemed like she purposely sought it out just to see your boyfriend, and she probably did. Luffy was enjoying yet another one of her feasts, and she was sat right beside him. Touching his arm and saying sweet things to him like he didn't already have a girlfriend. Batting her eyelashes at him and offering him sweet smiles that would knock the socks off any man other than Luffy. Once again, he didn't seem to notice how uncomfortable it made you, and you felt your eyes brim with tears.

Maybe he did notice and just didn't mind. Maybe he did notice and actually enjoyed her attention like everyone else did. Maybe you had him all wrong in this particular situation. He had spent a long time with her on her island, after all.

"Excuse me," you mumble to no one in particular, rising from your seat and swiftly exiting the room. It was like you couldn't breathe, your throat burning as the tears started falling faster and faster, until you could barely see.

You were sure he hasn't even noticed you were gone. He probably hadn't even seen you leave. And that thought had you clinging to your pillow harder as you screamed into it, hot angry tears rolling down your cheeks in unstoppable waves. You were so hurt and upset that you didn't notice your room door swing open and a certain captain barge in.

"(Name)?" Luffy called, sounding confused. "Are you okay?"

You felt your body bounce a little as the overeager captain jumped onto your bed, but in your stubbornness you refused to look at him and turned away instead.

"Go away, Luffy."

Luffy was not used to hearing those words from you. Nor was he used to hearing the sadness in your voice, the way it cracked halfway, and the miserable sniff that came afterwards. He was not used to seeing you like this, so sad.

"What's wrong?" He tugged on your shoulder, trying to get you to turn back around to face him. "Are you sick? Is your stomach sore?"

"No, Luffy!" You sat up and yelled in exasperation. "I'm tired! I'm so, so tired okay!" You rubbed your face and curled up, thighs pressed tightly to your chest. "I'm tired of my boyfriend letting some other woman fawn over him with no boundaries. I'm tired of watching my boyfriend be sweet-talked and flirted with by some other woman. And I can't do anything, because she's a Warlord!"

Luffy's eyes went wide, and then he burst out laughing, "Are you worried about Hammock?" The incorrect name almost had you smiling, but you managed to keep your face stoic. "(Name), I only want you. You know that right?"

"Yes," you sighed, "And I trust you, Luffy. It's just...you never stop her and sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not enough. Like she does more for you than I ever could." Your gaze fell. "Sometimes I think you actually like her."

Suddenly his arms were around you and he was squeezing you in the tightest hug he'd ever given.

"I don't like anyone the way I like you, (Name)," he promised. "ANd I never will. You are the only person who makes me feel like this, and you do enough for me already. You cook for me! I bet Hammock doesn't even make the food herself. If it came to choosing you or her, it would always be you."

Your cheeks burned when he said that, and slowly a smile formed on your lips, "That's really sweet, Luffy. Thank you. I needed to hear that."

He nuzzled his face against yours affectionately, "I will remind you as many times as you want!"

SANJI

Sanji's most annoying habit tended to irritate you majority of the time, and every instance ended with you practically fuming and storming off after telling him off angrily. He would normally appease you with something sweet, or your favourite dish. In some extreme cases, both. But you never stayed mad at him, because he made it impossible for you to do so. You just never expected that one day the hurt would become too much for you to handle, and you'd react with sadness rather than fury.

The crew had been given the day off to explore another island. Everyone had split to do their own things, but the cook insisted on accompanying you because it was one of the rare times he got to spend alone with you for an entire day. So the two of you strolled through the vibrant town, enjoying the atmosphere and each other's presence.

That is, until Sanji forgot about your warning to not flirt with anyone on this island. He deemed it just being a gentleman, but you knew better than that.

When you caught him staring as your words faltered, you expected the usual bout of anger to flare within you. You were ready to tell him off again, a dozen insults coming to mind for that woman, when you felt a sharp pang in your chest instead. Your words caught in your throat, and a sorrow like nothing you'd ever experienced filled you.

Had he been staring the entire time you were talking to him? To make matters worse, he seemed to forget you were speaking and drifted over to the lady to compliment her dress.

You felt humiliated. No one here actually knew you two, but it was embarrassing that you couldn't even keep your lover's attention on you. Your cheeks burned, your throat along with them, and your eyes brimmed with tears. It was made worse when you glanced around at all the other couples, and found them happily clinging to each other and acting like they were the only two people in the world.

"What do you think, ma chérié?" Sanji's voice suddenly filled your ears. "Do you like it?"

You hastily wiped your eyes, trying to look like you did before, "Um, like what? Sorry, I wasn't listening..."

He didn't seem to notice the sadness in your tone or the forlorn expression on your face, he just barrelled on, "This pretty young woman's dress, what do you think of it?"

"A-are you serious?" You choked out, feeling the burning in your throat get worse.

"Yes! Doesn't it look nice?"

You couldn't take it anymore. You were hyperventilating at this point. Scared of being embarrassed further with your impending sobbing, you turned and sprinted as fast as you could away from the scene. He called after you, but you weren't listening.

He arrived at the ship at the same time you did, leaving you confused. You were about to push past him when he grabbed your waist, stopping you.

"Wait, my love, I'm sorry," he apologised, "Don't cry, please."

You smacked his hand away from your face, "No, don't. If you were really sorry, you'd stop flirting with every woman you see like I told you to! But no, you keep doing it." Your eyes watered again. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Seeing your own lover interested in someone else, not even listening to you?"

Sanji was speechless. He had no idea it affectef you this much, but he blamed himself for going on with it even when you told him not to.

"How would you feel if I flirted with every guy I saw?" You demanded.

"Oh no, please don't," he begged, heart sinking at the thought.

"But it's okay for you to do it?" You looked away, and his heart broke.

"I'm sorry," he apologised again, "I am, really. But I wasn't flirting with her, I promise! I was just asking where she got that dress because it looked so nice and I thought it would look good on you..."

Your eyes widened when you heard this, "Wait, what? Is that why you asked if I liked it?"

"Mhm," he smiled, "I wanted to get it for you if you did."

You were the speechless one now. All that time he had been thinking of you, and you'd gone and assumed the worst. Now you felt even more embarrassed, but for a totally different reason.

"Sanji, I-"

"No need to apologise, love," he immediately hugged you when it seemed like it was okay for him to. "I haven't exactly given you reasons to trust me not to flirt. But I promise, I am doing my best to not do it. I don't want to lose you."

He really was too cute to stay mad at, or even to stay sad about, and you ended up smiling and leaning in to kiss him.

"Fine, but do it again and I'm going to leave you for Zoro."

His face paled, "No no, ma chérie, you can't be serious! Love, wait! Are you serious??" And he followed you to your room, begging you to tell him you were lying.

USOPP

You were well aware that Usopp had had a romantic interest in a girl long before he met you. He would never tell you about her, but Nami and Luffy told you about her and what they knew about her relationship with Usopp. As far as you could tell, they had never done anything more than kiss once.

You felt like you were getting in the way of their relationship, and most days that thought just put you into an emotionless daze. You felt like you couldn't compare, because she seemed to be his first love. And as bad as this sounds, you started to feel like you were a relationship of convenience to him. Someone to keep him company while he longed for another.

"You know that's not true," Nami would reassure you when you confided in her. "He's not like that. He really loves you."

"I can tell he thinks about her sometimes," you argue, "And we don't know whether or not he imagines her in my place when we kiss or do anything remotely romantic. Who's to say he wouldn't go back to her if we somehow made it back to the East Blue?"

Nami couldn't give you the answer to that, and it hurt all the more. You tried not to let it get to you, you really did, but some days were worse than others. Some days you felt inferior, like you were not as pretty as she was, even though you'd never seen her. If he was so crazy about her to still be thinking about her months after he'd met you, he surely still loved her, right?

"Usopp, I have a question," Nami asked the sharpshooter one day.

"Uhhhh, no I did not borrow any money from you..." He replied nervously, eyes darting around the room.

The navigator's eyes narrowed, "We'll get to that later. Anyway, if we went back to the East Blue, what would you do? Would you want to rekindle your relationship with Kaya?"

Usopp's face paled, "What kind of question is that?!"

"Just answer!"

"I...I don't know!" He cried, then attempted to flee only to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes glistening. "(Name)-"

"I get it," you swallowed thickly, "She was your first love. I just wish you'd stop pretending like this relationship means anything to you." You turned and retreated to your room, locking the door and falling down against it, tears flowing freely.

You knew it was unfair. You knew he'd known her his whole life and you just a year. But you kind of hoped that since you'd actually developed what you thought was a meaningful, deep romantic relationship with him, he wouldn't have to think about it. You kind of hoped he would just choose you, simple as that. And you know it was unfair to him, and selfish of you. But you couldn't help it.

"(Name)!" The sharpshooter knocked on your door. "Please let me in!" He sounded panicked, like he did before you all went into a fight.

"Go away, Usopp," you yelled, but the pain in your voice was too clear for him to ignore.

Normally he would give up. He does that very easily. But when it comes to you he doesn't stop, and he never will. He hates leaving you on your own, especially when you're upset and even more so when he's the reason you're upset.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, "Let me explain! I never said I would! Please, just open up. Let's talk about this!"

"You can say what you want through the door," you told him, "Otherwise we don't talk at all." And yes, again this was unfair to him, but again you couldn't help it.

"I know what you must be thinking," he immediately started, "And you're wrong. Yes I used to love Kaya, and yes we almost had a relationship, but that was clearly not meant to be. Because I met you, and I fell in love with you, and I can't imagine loving anyone else now that I know what it feels like to love you." He paused for a moment, thinking of what else to say, and then, "You're the love of my life now, and I know that it will stay that way even if we were to somehow end up back in the East Blue. You are my girlfriend now, and I only ever want or think about you. Please believe me, it'll only ever be you."

Hearing all of this slowly calmed you down, and you didn't even notice when the tears stopped. His sincere, loving words hit you right where you needed them the most, and you stood up to open the door.

"You mean all that?"

"Yes," he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself. "Please don't break up with me."

"Oh, Usopp," you laughed and wiped your eyes, "I could never do that. Especially not after such sweet words. You're stuck with me."

"And hopefully always will be," he added, immediately hugging you and almost crushing your bones. "I'm so sorry (Name), I'm sorry I made you cry!" And then he actually started crying.

"Usopp..."

2K notes · View notes

dollishmehrayan · 16 days ago

Text

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

1K notes · View notes

scented-morker · 1 month ago

Text

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

1K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 10 months ago

Text

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀…

Sukuna

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Sukuna comes to terms with the idea of having a daughter with you.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, double penetration, creampie, pregnancy, slightly ooc but still a misogynist, fluff at the end

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“What the hell are you doing?” Sukuna squints his eyes, looking down at you as you knit something for your baby girl. There’s no way of actually knowing the sex of your baby, but something tells you that you’re expecting a daughter. Sukuna negates the thought, assuring you that you’re carrying a son. He can’t possibly have a daughter, he’s always saying something along those lines.

“Just making a little something for our child.” You inform him, and Sukuna frowns. Your child is not going to wear something so pink because they’ll be a boy, Sukuna is sure of it. He snatches the cloth out of your hand and tosses it.

“Why pink? Are you saying we’re having a girl?” Sukuna questions, and you cross your arms. You look up at your husband, mad that he's tossed your hard work to the side.

“You have pink hair, Suku… Are you a girl?” You cock your eyebrow, and he’s not amused. He crosses both pairs of arms, rolling his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t associate colors with a certain gender because you are right, he does have pink hair… But he also knows that you’re making a pink blanket because you think you’re having a girl.

“Make a blue one.” He orders, and you glare at him. You shake your head in response, you’re not making a blue one. He grits his teeth, grabbing the blanket that he just tossed to the side and shredding your hard work to pieces.

“Keep an eye open tonight, because when you least expect it, I’ll strangle you.” You warn him, and you’re dead serious. It’s clear that you’re carrying his child, you’ve never threatened to kill him before.

“If you even come close to it, I think I’ll fall more in love with you.” He chuckles, walking away, leaving you alone with your own anger. You let out a yell, cursing at him because the twinge of fear that you had for him completely faded a couple of months ago.

He holds no threat to you anymore. Sukuna wouldn’t have done anything to you anyway, since he hates that he loves you so dearly, but the realization that you carry his child and he’ll do no harm to you really gives you much more power and comfort. Sukuna finds humor in a very nonthreatening person, threatening to do something to him; especially when he knows that you can barely lift yourself up anymore.

He knows that you won’t even come close to succeeding in hurting him, and he laughs in amusement at the mere thought. But you’ll get him back, you know you will.

“I thought we were going to spend the day together?” Sukuna asks as he watches you get ready to go out. You never invited him anywhere, so he was shocked to hear that you weren’t at home. He isn’t well liked in public, there’s just something about being huge, having four arms and being extremely scary that people don’t like. Sukuna can kill anyone without a second thought.

“I thought so too before someone ruined the blanket that I was making for my daughter… So I had to get the materials to make it again.” You tell him, and Sukuna nearly gasps when you drop the d word. You’ve always refused to call the baby your daughter since you have no idea what the sex is, but it seems like you use it to piss him off. You click your tongue when you notice his reaction, “What? You’re so overdramatic. You’ve killed for fuck’s sake, why is saying daughter so scary to you.”

“Because we’re having a son!” He yells, getting defensive about it. You don’t understand why he gets upset at the mere suggestion that he’s having a daughter. Before you got pregnant, Sukuna never seemed to care about the gender of a hypothetical baby– Although you shouldn’t be shocked since your husband isn’t exactly the most fair when it comes to different sexes… Sukuna is a misogynist, that’s what you’re trying to get at. He treats all humans with the same disdain, but particularly women. It seems that you’ve forgotten because he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats everyone else.

“Sukuna, we’re having a daughter.” You reiterate, and you watch his eye twitch. You’re doing it to piss him off, he knows it, yet it’s working. “You wanted a baby, Sukuna. You knew there was no guarantee that you’d be having a son, but you still decided that you wanted one. You can’t cry about having a daughter.”

Sukuna takes a deep breath, surprisingly managing his anger well. He decides to leave the room, leaving you alone to do whatever the hell you want. You fuel his anger even more, yelling at him, “And don’t come back until you fix your attitude!”

You stare off into the distance, your hand resting on your bump. You begin to wonder what Sukuna will actually do, and you can’t do anything but hope that he’ll come around to the idea because you know Sukuna. He isn’t good whatsoever, he won’t hesitate to hurt her, even if she’s his own flesh and blood. You’re not sure you could stay by his side if he were to do anything, but you wouldn’t really have any other option either.

You decide to go to sleep, because thinking about it further won’t really help you in any way. You delude yourself, thinking that he’ll come around to the idea.

A large pair of arms wrap around you, waking you up from your slumber. Sukuna does it to try and be romantic, but he nearly suffocates you. You slap his arm, telling him, “Loosen the grip–”

He loosens his grip, which lets you know that he wasn’t trying to kill you. Thankfully. Sukuna would never do anything to harm you, but sometimes you swear you don’t know him much. It’s very rare when you get a heart to heart with Sukuna where he actually talks about him, he usually prefers to listen to listen, and to threaten anyone in the stories that offend you in the slightest.

“Can I say something without you getting mad?” You begin, still half asleep. Sukuna furrows his brows. Due to his lack of answer, you decide to speak, “You’re overreacting.”

“I just don’t know what I’d do with a daughter.” He confesses. He doesn’t know how he’d handle her, how to treat her fairly, how he would– He doesn’t know how he would do anything. He doesn’t know what being a woman entails so he won’t know how to teach her anything. He wants to teach her how to do everything.

“Everything you’d do with a son.” You reply. You really doubt that your child will be raised to have great morals, so there’s no point in really raising them differently. “Sukuna, how will it be different?”

“How will it not be different?” He sounds offended. There’s nothing similar between men and women. Sukuna’s hands go to your bump, his hand caressing it. “But for my heir, I guess I can make an exception.”

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t make a fuss over the possibility of having a daughter?” You ask him, and his silence gives you an answer. Yes, Sukuna is fine with it, as fine as he can be at least.

His hand goes under your nightgown, caressing your thighs. You feel Sukuna kiss the back of your neck, and you squeeze your thighs, his large hand stuck between them. The man rarely touches you nowadays, seeing you as fragile as ever. You don’t know about the sudden change, but you certainly don’t mind.

“What changed in you?” You ask him as his hand goes up to your panties. He pushes them to the side because last time he tore something of yours, you got too mad at him so he’d rather not risk it. His fingers run through your folds before going to your clit, and you bite your bottom lip due to pure excitement.

“Was thinking about how I’d be nothing without you.” He confesses, letting you know that he didn’t come to terms with having a daughter– Sukuna is a man that fears nothing, at least that’s what you thought up until now. He fears losing you. It’s your issue… You’ve never paid attention to the love in his eyes when he speaks to you or about you. Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you mean to him. “Then I remembered how gorgeous you look carrying our son.”

“If you say that again I’ll–” You begin but Sukuna is two steps ahead of you. He pushes two large fingers inside of you. You can’t help but moan, covering your mouth immediately. One of his hands pulls your hand away, even in the dark he knows what you do. After all, you’re not just getting to know him, but he’s getting to know you too.

“Did I tell you to be fucking quiet?” He asks through gritted teeth. You have to be quiet at other times, like when the baby gets here and you risk waking them up. Now, if any of the servants hear, that’s their fucking problem. “Be loud, my love. Remind everyone who you belong to.”

“They know.” You tell him, which is quickly cut off by a moan as his fingers move faster. You feel his thumb graze your asshole, teasing you before he pushes it in. “Suku–”

“You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.” He ends up laughing. You never do because he’s just too much for you to handle. He curves his fingers so they hit your sweet spot. You shut your eyes, quickly succumbing to pleasure. You’ve missed this feeling so much, and he refuses to give it to you.

Sukuna loves when you turn into putty by his touch. It takes practically nothing to work you up, and you begin to squeeze around him. He smirks, knowing that it takes nothing for you to be practically screaming his name. Sukuna speaks into your ear, “Already so excited for me? Do you want more?”

“I need more.” Your voice sounds so demanding and Sukuna laughs. Another hand goes under your nightgown, his fingers focusing on your clit. You loudly moan his name as it all gets too much for you to handle.

“Is it too much?” He mocks you as your orgasm builds up, until you finally reach your peak, your legs shaking. Sukuna takes his fingers out, shoving the fingers that were in your cunt into your mouth, making you gag.

Sukuna lights a candle, providing some light in the room. You sit up, getting on top of him, undoing his robe. Your body yearns for more, and he smirks since he knows it. You lean down, your lips going on his, your tongue entering his mouth and pressing against his own. When you pull away from the kiss, you mutter, “I’ve missed you.”

You raise yourself, aligning the cock on the top with your pussy before slowly pushing yourself down on it. You take a moment to adjust to him since it’s been a while since the last time you’ve fucked her. You begin to bounce on him, and Sukuna spits in his palm, grabbing the cock on the bottom and teasing your asshole with the tip.

Sukuna holds you down when he begins to push the other tip in your asshole. Even though you’re expecting a child together, you’re still loud when he fills both of your holes. It’s too much for you to handle at first, but throughout the time you get used to it.

“Tight little cunt–” He groans, and he never thought that he of all people would end up touch deprived. But then he got too scared to hurt you in any way when you knew you were expecting, so he stuck to… Nothing. To suppress his dirty thoughts.

“Move.” You order, too tired to continue. Sukuna begins to move for you, thrusting slowly in and out of you. He continues at the pace you had set.

“Is it good? You’re making a fucking mess.” He says as he picks up speed. You throw your head back, one hand going down to play with your clit as he thrusts in and out of you.

“It’s so fucking good–” You answer. You’ve been needing this every single fucking night, and you’re lucky to be receiving it now. He’s finally giving into your cravings.

“You just love being filled up like a little slut, don’t you?” Sukuna’s hand goes up from your bump to your mouth, shoving two fingers into your mouth again. He feels the vibration of your moans through your tongue before you begin to twirl your tongue around his fingers.

Sukuna loves the way you take in his cocks, smiling at you at how well you take him– Of course he wouldn’t tell you though. Your hands go to his chest, using it for support as well as subconsciously digging your nails into his skin. It stings for him, but he can’t help but love it.

Sukuna does you a favor, his fingers rubbing your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head,

A second orgasm overtaking you. Sukuna feels you squeezing on both of his cocks, feeling himself get weak.

“Suku–” You loudly moan as you reach your second orgasm. Sukuna mocks you for it.

“What? Can’t handle it?” He asks, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He’s losing control, his thrusts getting sloppy. It’s been so long since the last time he did this– And when he finishes, he fills both of your holes with so much cum, and you swear you’re in heaven because there is no better feeling than this.

When he takes his cocks out, so much cum drips out of you. You end up falling on his chest, him wrapping a pair of large arms around you while another fixes your clothes.

“This is a nice way to apologize for misbehaving.” You comment, and Sukuna scoffs.

“Who said I was apologizing?” Sukuna is frowning, and you lightly smack his face which pisses him off more. He holds your hands so you don’t try to do anything more with them.

“I’ll take it as an apology.” You tell him. Sukuna wants to laugh, but he manages to keep a poker face. He grabs you up by your hair, putting his lips on yours.

“It was not an apology, woman. Shut your mouth.”

Bonus:

You swear that hell is freezing over because what the hell is the scene you’re witnessing. You’ve never seen Sukuna like this… You don’t think you are supposed to see him like this.

“Who’s a headstrong girl?” Sukuna is putting on a baby voice for fuck’s sake. For a daughter that he didn’t want. Your baby girl laughs, and he falls in love all over again. She’s just so fucking perfect– With her little eyes, her little nose, her little mouth, her four little arms, her soft pink hair. She’s everything to him.

“Do you need anything, Sukuna?” You approach them, but Sukuna pays little attention to you. He keeps looking down at his daughter who lays on your bed. She’s in need of a nap but Sukuna doesn’t like putting her to bed because she’s boring then.

“Yeah, how do I order another one of these?” He asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Of what?” You respond, wondering what the hell he talks about.

“Another daughter.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #jujutsu sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna x reader smut

4K notes · View notes

angelfic · 1 year ago

Text

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

12K notes · View notes