#feminine reader

[chelseaknoo]

Imagine this: Eminem gets into a rap feud with your rapper boyfriend, and amidst all the drama, you end up cheating on your boyfriend with Eminem. Then, when Eminem releases a new track, he takes a shot at your boyfriend by hinting at your hookup, adding fuel to the fire with a line about sleeping with you.

Eminem x reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

it’s the night of the MTV Music Awards, and you’ve been given the honor of calling out the winner and presenting the award. Your boyfriend, a rising star in the rap game, is nominated in the same category as his rival—none other than Eminem. For weeks, the two have been trading shots, dropping diss tracks, and stirring up a fierce rap feud.

The tension is palpable as the nominees flash on the screen, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you from his seat, his expression radiating certainty. He’s convinced tonight will end in his victory, a public validation of his skills and his place in the industry

But you know the stakes: if Eminem wins, it would be a crushing defeat for your boyfriend—a public blow that could turn the tide in their feud and become the talk of the music world. Yet, there’s a strange electricity in the air as you take the stage, gripping the award envelope, your heart pounding. Whether it’s a win or loss, this moment is about to make headlines.

"Eminem!" you announce, your voice echoing through the venue as the crowd erupts in wild cheers, celebrating his victory.

Eminem strides onto the stage, his expression a mix of pride and that unmistakable cockiness he’s known for. As he reaches you, he takes the award with one hand and, to your surprise, pulls you into a tight hug with the other. The embrace lingers just a moment too long, his hand slipping lower with each second—a subtle but unmistakable taunt meant to rile up your already furious boyfriend, who’s watching from his seat with narrowed eyes.

The audience catches onto the tension, gasping and laughing as Eminem’s playful smirk widens. He whispers a low “Thank you” in your ear, glancing briefly over at your boyfriend, whose jaw is clenched, his confidence shattered by the public loss and the blatant show of disrespect. Eminem lets you go, stepping up to the mic, but you can still feel the charged energy radiating from your boyfriend’s glare. The feud has just reached a new level, and you know tonight will be one for the headlines.

At the after-party, your boyfriend was sulking, stewing over his loss. His confidence from earlier in the night had dissolved into a grumpy silence, and he barely spoke to you, responding with short, cold remarks every time you tried to break the ice. His attention was laser-focused on Eminem, who was mingling across the room, clearly enjoying his win. Your boyfriend’s glare never wavered; he was practically daring Eminem to look his way.

Finally, you had enough. The atmosphere was suffocating, and you weren’t going to spend the night with someone who refused to move past the loss. Frustrated, you excused yourself from the table, deciding you needed a drink just to shake off the tension.

As you walked toward the bar, you sensed someone fall in step beside you. Glancing over, you saw it was Eminem, giving you that familiar smirk. “Rough night?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. There was something in his eyes that made it clear he’d noticed the icy atmosphere between you and your boyfriend. For the first time all evening, you found yourself relaxing, even smiling, as you felt the weight of the night start to lift.

You leaned against the bar, letting out a sigh, and turned to Eminem with a half-smile. “Yeah, you could say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s taking this loss… well, let’s just say he’s not handling it well.”

Eminem chuckled, ordering a drink as he leaned beside you. “Can’t say I blame him,” he shrugged, “but hey, it’s all part of the game, right?” His voice was light, but there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he understood the cost of ego in the industry.

You nodded, grateful for the change in atmosphere. “True. But it doesn’t mean I have to be dragged down by it,” you said, looking across the room to see your boyfriend still seated, jaw clenched, watching the two of you like a hawk. The icy, simmering tension in his stare made your stomach tighten, but you ignored it.

Eminem followed your gaze, then raised an eyebrow. “Well, if he’s going to sit there and sulk, that’s on him. You don’t deserve the silent treatment.”

There was something disarming about Eminem’s attitude. He wasn’t pushing anything, just being unexpectedly down-to-earth and understanding. As the drinks arrived, he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “Here’s to enjoying the night,” he said, eyes flickering with a mischievous glint.

You took a sip, the warmth of the drink helping you shake off the tension. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a rush of relief. Eminem leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a private tone. “Honestly, you look like you could use a good distraction.”

Before you could respond, the DJ switched to one of Eminem’s tracks, and the crowd went wild. He shot you a grin. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated, knowing full well how your boyfriend would take it. But in that moment, the thought of breaking free from his cold demeanor and just having fun felt too tempting to resist. You placed your hand in Eminem’s, feeling a spark shoot up your arm.

As you danced with the Detroit rapper, your boyfriend’s absence was the only confirmation you needed—he had already stormed off, leaving you alone with Eminem. The music thumped around you, and you felt the heat of the moment take over, your frustrations melting into the rhythm of the song and the intensity of Eminem’s gaze.

Eminem leaned in, his face coming closer, and before you realized it, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard yet feeling almost inevitable. The kiss was electric, a mix of passion and defiance, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The tension of the night, the rivalry, your boyfriend’s coldness—it all vanished in that single connection.

As he pulled back, a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Want to get out of here?” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the music but clear enough to send a thrill through you.

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of excitement and a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt all night. “Yes,” you replied, nodding without hesitation. With a final glance back at the room you were leaving behind, you let him take your hand, leading you out of the club and into the night, where the evening’s tension was about to unfold into something entirely new.

The ride to the hotel was a blur of city lights and pulsing beats from the car stereo. Eminem’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, and every time you looked at him, that smirk grew a little wider. You knew you were crossing a line, but in that moment, you didn’t care about the consequences—you just wanted to live in the present, to feel alive.

Once inside the plush hotel suite, the reality of what was happening hit you like a sledgehammer. The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering around the edges, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and slightly overwhelming. The smell of his cologne filled the air. Eminem led you to the bed, his hand never leaving your waist, and the weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you again, his hands exploring the curves of your body with a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The world outside the hotel room felt a million miles away, and all you could focus on was the heat of his breath, the taste of his lips, and the way your body responded to his every touch.

Eminem's strong arms pulled you closer, his hands deftly unbuttoning your dress, which slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. You stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, feeling exposed yet empowered by the raw desire in his eyes. His own shirt and jacket followed suit, revealing a sculpted physique that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

The air grew thick with anticipation as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands moved to unhook your bra. It fell away, leaving your breasts bare to the cool air and the warmth of his palms. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He led you to the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping you as he laid you down. His touch was gentle yet firm, his hands skimming over your skin like a warm summer breeze, igniting a trail of fire wherever they went. You could feel the weight of his body on top of you, and it was a feeling of both safety and exhilaration.

Eminem’s kisses grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours as he traced a line of passion down your neck and to your breasts. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat. His hands moved with purpose, removing every last piece of clothing that stood between you. The sensation of his bare chest against yours was electric, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

He paused, looking down at you with a hunger that was almost feral. Without a word, he slid his hand down the curve of your waist and over the band of your panties, slipping them off with a gentle yet firm motion. Your body reacted instinctively, arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he positioned himself above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Eminem kissed you deeply as he entered you, the sensation of his hardness filling you completely, making you gasp into his mouth. The initial shock of his size quickly gave way to a building pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper. His rhythm was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling into yours with a mastery that left you feeling utterly consumed by him.

You could feel every inch of him as he moved, his muscles flexing with each thrust. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, punctuated by the occasional groan or whimper escaping from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as if he were conducting a symphony of passion. The kiss grew more intense, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you moaned in response, your nails digging into his back.

The bed sheets tangled around your legs as the pace grew faster, more frenzied. The headboard banging against the wall matched the tempo of your hearts beating in sync. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with every stroke, and it only spurred you on. Your own eyes closed as the pleasure built, your breaths coming in gasps, your body tightening like a coil ready to spring.

Eminem's fingers found their way into your hair, gently tugging your head back as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone as he whispered dirty sweet nothings into your ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the sweat bead and the tension in his muscles as he moved within you. His thrusts grew more powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot, making you quiver with pleasure. The sound of skin on skin, the faint rustle of the bed sheets, and the muffled moans of ecstasy filled the air—a symphony of lust that seemed to resonate through the very walls of the suite.

As the intensity grew, Eminem’s grip on your hips tightened, his breaths turning ragged. You could feel him getting closer to the brink, his movements more urgent, and the desperate need reflected in the taut lines of his face. You met his gaze, the electricity between you crackling like a live wire. You whispered his name, and that was all it took for him to let go, his body tensing as he reached climax, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth bared in a silent roar.

The aftermath was a gentle cascade of shared breaths and lingering kisses. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your bodies still intertwined. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the candles, casting a warm light over the rumpled sheets and the sweat-drenched skin. You laid there, your heart racing, feeling a sense of disbelief at what had just transpired. It had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion that had taken you completely by surprise.

Eminem looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if looking for any signs of regret or doubt. You met his gaze and smiled, your cheeks flushed with satisfaction and a hint of mischief. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. Instead, you felt alive, invigorated by the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through your veins.

He leaned in, kissing you softly, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into your mouth once more. You tasted a mix of whiskey and victory on his breath, a potent cocktail that only made you want him more. His hand slid down to caress your naked body, his fingertips gliding over your skin like a musician playing a favorite tune. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, eager for the symphony of pleasure to begin again.

After a few weeks of sleeping with Marshall your boyfriend once again dropped another diss track on Marshall, stilled pissed about losing to music MTV awards to him.

A few weeks had passed since things began between you and Marshall, each encounter becoming a carefully hidden secret amidst the chaos of the ongoing feud. Despite the thrill of it all, your boyfriend remained oblivious, though his frustration toward Eminem hadn’t faded. In fact, he seemed more fired up than ever.

Still bitter over the loss at the MTV Music Awards, your boyfriend dropped yet another diss track aimed squarely at Marshall. The lyrics were sharper, more personal, each line dripping with resentment. It was clear that his defeat had stung deeply, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. The diss track hit every outlet, riling up fans and adding fresh fuel to the rivalry. You listened to the track, knowing the words were aimed at Marshall, yet they felt uncomfortably close to home, a reminder of the tangled mess you were in.

Marshall’s reaction, however, was anything but anger. When you mentioned the diss track, he just smirked, as though he found the whole thing amusing.

Two weeks later, Marshall released a new song that sent the internet into an absolute frenzy. The lyrics included lines that would leave no one guessing.The following lines said:

Yo, check it,

You think you flexin’, but you just a clown,

Got your girl in my sheets, ass up, face down,

While you out thrivin’, ballin’ like a thug,

I'm the one givin' her that late-night love.

You a motherfuckin’ joke, man, I’m the real deal,

She whispered my name, now she can’t conceal,

You think you got her locked, but I broke that chain,

She loves my style, man, it drives you insane.

After Eminem released the diss track exposing your affair, it sent shockwaves through the music world. Everyone was talking about it, and the excitement was palpable. The lyrics ignited a frenzy, with fans buzzing about the revelations and the implications of the feud.

A few days after Eminem released the diss track, he showed up at your house, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. The buzz from the song had settled, but the aftermath still hung heavy in the air. As you opened the door, you could see concern etched on his face. “Hey, I just wanted to check in on you,” he said softly, stepping inside.

You led him to the living room, feeling a mix of emotions. “Honestly, it’s been tough,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “My boyfriend has been really distant since all this happened. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time to end the relationship.”

Marshall’s expression shifted as he processed your words. There was a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. “I hate to hear that. You deserve to be with someone who truly cares about you,” he said, stepping closer. The tension in the room thickened, and you could feel the pull between you intensifying.

Suddenly, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you. The moment his lips touched yours, all your doubts and fears seemed to evaporate. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a silent confession that spoke louder than words. When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with sincerity. “I love you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to break up with him for me.”

You hesitated, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his confession and the reality of the situation you were in. It was a leap, one that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a spark of something undeniable.

After a moment of contemplation, you reached for your phone. The decision felt monumental as you typed the message: “It’s over.” With a deep breath, you pressed send and immediately turned off your phone, cutting off any chance of a reply from your boyfriend.

Marshall, sensing the shift, pulled you in for another kiss, more enchanting than the first. This kiss was filled with promise and desire, a powerful affirmation of what you both wanted. In that moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty. It was just you and him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of clarity. <3

[natswife-marvelicious]

Embracing the Unknown

Plot: You and Natasha finally acknowledge your feelings for each other. She confesses her desire to be your girlfriend, and together you embark on a new, slow-paced romantic relationship, full of warmth and mutual affection.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,4K

Masterlist

The hum of the bustling New York City streets filled the air as you made your way through the vibrant crowds. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow across the skyscrapers and giving the city an almost magical quality. It was one of those rare evenings when the city felt alive with possibility, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of what the night might hold.

You had been part of the Avengers for a while now, a member of a team that was equal parts family and chaos. And among all the extraordinary people you worked with, one stood out: Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow herself. She was strong, fiercely intelligent, and had an air of mystery that always intrigued you. Over time, the friendship you shared had blossomed into something deeper, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it, until now.

As you approached the tower where the Avengers often gathered, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Natasha had asked you to meet her tonight, and the excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. You were about to step into something that could change everything.

You entered the common area of the Avengers Tower and were greeted by the familiar sight of Tony Stark tinkering with one of his gadgets, and Steve Rogers discussing tactics with Sam Wilson. But your focus was solely on Natasha, who was standing by the large window, looking out over the city skyline.

“Hey, you made it,” she said, turning to you with a soft smile that lit up her face.

“Wouldn't miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Natasha gestured for you to join her at the window. As you stood side by side, you took in the view, the twinkling lights of the city below, the gentle hum of life that continued even as day turned to night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you agreed, glancing at her. The way her eyes reflected the city lights made your heart race. “But it’s even more beautiful with you here.”

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and you could hardly believe you made the legendary Black Widow blush. She turned slightly, her gaze intense as she studied you. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said, her tone serious.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s on your mind?”

Natasha took a deep breath, a sign that whatever she was about to say was significant. “You know we’ve been through a lot together, right?”

You nodded, remembering the countless missions, the late-night talks, and the moments of vulnerability you had shared. “Yeah, I do.”

“I never thought I’d let anyone in like this again,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But you… You’ve changed that for me.”

You felt a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. “Natasha, I-”

“I’m not finished,” she interrupted, a hint of urgency in her voice. “I’ve spent so long pushing people away, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But being with you feels different. It feels right.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension in the air as you took a step closer. “What are you saying?”

Her emerald green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. “I’m saying that I want to be with you. I want to be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me.”

A surge of happiness washed over you, mingling with disbelief. “You want to be my girlfriend?” you asked, needing to hear the words again.

“Yes,” she said, a small smile breaking through her serious demeanor. “I want to be yours. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

In that moment, everything felt surreal. Natasha Romanoff, the infamous spy, wanted to be with you. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and relief flooding through you. “I’d love that. I really would.”

A grin spread across her face, and in a flash, she closed the distance between you, wrapping her arms around your waist. You instinctively pulled her closer, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. It was a sweet embrace, full of unspoken promises and newfound affection.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she admitted, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “And it scares me, but it also excites me.”

“Scared is good,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It means we’re stepping into something real.”

Natasha nodded, her expression serious yet filled with a glimmer of hope. “I want to take this slow. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to enjoy being with you.”

“Me too,” you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “We’ll take it at our own pace."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the window faded even further away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection you had forged, despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives.

“Let’s celebrate,” Natasha suggested, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “How about a movie night? Just the two of us?”

“I’m all in for that,” you replied, grinning at her enthusiasm. “But I get to pick the movie this time.”

“Deal,” she laughed, pulling away reluctantly but still holding your hand. “But if it’s something ridiculous, I reserve the right to mock you.”

“Fair enough,” you said, leading her toward the media room. The light-hearted banter between you felt natural, a testament to the bond you had built over the years.

As you settled on the couch, you grabbed a bowl of popcorn, your heart still racing from the revelation of your relationship. Natasha settled in beside you, her body close to yours, the warmth radiating from her making it hard to focus on the screen.

As the opening credits rolled, you found yourself sneaking glances at her. She seemed so relaxed, her guard down in a way you hadn’t seen before. It was a side of Natasha that felt intimate, and it made your heart swell with affection.

Halfway through the movie, you felt her head leaning against your shoulder. The moment was perfect, quiet, cozy, and filled with a sense of belonging that you had longed for. You smiled to yourself, grateful for the turn your relationship had taken.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “What if I told you that I’m a terrible romantic?”

You chuckled softly, looking down at her. “I doubt that. You’re a spy. You probably know all the classic romantic gestures.”

“Sure, but I’m more accustomed to running away than running toward,” she said, her voice serious but with a hint of playfulness. “I’m not exactly the candlelit dinner type.”

“Maybe we can change that,” you suggested, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It could be fun to explore it together.”

Natasha looked up at you, her expression softening. “I’d like that. I’d like to try.”

As the credits rolled, you turned off the TV and faced her fully. “So, what’s next on our agenda, girlfriend?”

“Hmm…” she pondered, tapping her chin playfully. “How about we make some plans? I want to take you on a proper date.”

Your heart raced at the thought. “I’d love that. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere that’s not filled with superheroes and chaos,” she said with a smirk. “Maybe a quiet little Italian restaurant? I hear they have the best tiramisu.”

You grinned at the idea. “Perfect. And I’ll hold you to that dessert.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a date, then.”

In that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You leaned in closer, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Natasha responded immediately, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world outside the tower forgotten. The kiss was sweet and soft, a promise of the many moments to come.

As you pulled away, breathless and smiling, you could see the joy reflected in Natasha’s eyes. “I think I could get used to this,” she said, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart soaring.

And in that moment, you both knew that you had found something special in each other, something worth cherishing, something that would only grow stronger with each passing day.

The city continued to pulse with life outside, but inside the tower, you had carved out a little haven of your own, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

The night stretched ahead of you like a canvas waiting to be filled with colors, adventures, and memories, together.

Again a pretty short one, but it's all fluffy and lovelyyyy

[jar0fhoney]

Satyr Forest Spirit X Fem!Reader🌱

Content: NSFW, Feminine presenting reader, knotting😇

Imagine you move to the middle of nowhere. Like in the COUNTRY. You got a job with incentives teaching at a school in town since it’s so rural.

And you end up renting this little farm cottage on some old couple’s land. There’s been a drought for MONTHS, and just about everything living thing is dead. It’s depressing as hell.

But you try and make the most of it. Hanging up bird feeders and stuff. You find yourself sitting outside at night on your rickety folding chair, it’s not so ugly out here when it’s completely dark outside. There’s a colony of fire flies which twinkle about at the tree-line, and oh the night sky out there is unbelievable.

You accidentally fall asleep one night on the screened in porch. And that’s when he sees you for the first time.

The guardian of this land. An old spirit. And a grumpy one.

No one’s lived in that cottage for a long time, and that’s why he hasn’t passed through in months. He didn’t realize there were humans trampling around out here as well. So at first he hates you, because humans don’t ever do him any good.

You were probably going to tear up all the plants and trees and put in that ugly invasive sod humans love so much. In fact, this was why he’d started the drought all those months ago. A new housing development had begun construction on his precious land. Stupid humans wouldn’t be able to water their big ugly lawns without any water. He was, to put it simply, on strike. He told the raccoons to crawl into your attic and make a ruckus, and the mice to wreak havoc on your pantry in the night. He was trying to push you out. And it almost worked.

But one day, you roll big pots onto your front porch filled with plants that he recognizes. Big milkweed plants. You had been trying to teach the children in your class about native flora and fauna, and the importance of protecting it.

Do stupid humans even pay attention to things like monarch migration patterns?

When the first little caterpillars appear on your plants you are thrilled. Snapping tons of pictures for your kids at school. The Guardian Spirit, watching nearby, feels a jolt go through his body which almost makes him sick. Endearment. You tend to your milkweed plants like a mother, carefully watering them each so they didn’t succumb to the drought, tenderly avoiding the growing larvae.

He starts passing through to watch you every day. You set up a birdbath which circulates fresh water, hoping to attract some birds to your feeders. The Guardian makes sure to mention it to his prettiest birds, and feels his chest swell watching you happily observe them from the kitchen window.

He tells the raccoons and mice to nock it off, much to their confusion. He finds himself wanting to see you pleased by his land, and his animals. He tells the most gentle doves to visit you in the morning, waking you with their soft coos outside your bedroom windowsill.

Living out in the country becomes magical. You don’t know what you did to deserve it. One weekend you gasp when the crack of a thunderstorm wakes you from a nap. You rush outside, drops beginning to plop onto outstretched arms, “THANK YOU!”

He can hardly stand the drought anymore. You needed to see his finest work. It rained for a week straight, and you were worried about flash floods sweeping you away. But he would never let that happen, not to this sweet human. The meadow around your cottage starts to grow, fast. He has chosen the most fragrant and lovely wildflowers for you. Bees lazily float from flower to flower (He made them swear not to sting you, of course).

On a sunny day, you drift out into the meadow and lay down in a soft and dense bed of grass. It all feels so alive. Well… it is alive of course. Plants are alive in a literal sense. But they thrum with an energy that clings to your skin like a perfect ray of sunshine. He can almost feel you like this. It makes him feel drunk. Feverish. Desperate. He steals himself away from his hiding spot. Dragging himself far away from you, lest he lose his composure.

All of these natural phenomena were strange, but what you felt in the meadow was not normal. You start researching. Googling yourself down rabbit holes about the supernatural and occult.

“Regional Natural Spirits”

“Protectors of nature”

“Old and powerful beasts who are charged with the stewardship of the natural world”

You must be losing it. You were supposed to be an educator. But the coincidences were hard to ignore all together. On the off-chance that there was some powerful spirit who was responsible for it all, you certainly didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

One night you bring out a plate, filled with the things the websites said the spirit might like. A piece of quartz crystal, molasses cookies you made from scratch (if the spirit has a sweet tooth), and finally a lock of your hair. You hoped it was enough, basing this all off of the old website you read.

As you kneel in the grass, feeling that familiar warmth spread over you, you call out into the trees,

“Uh- excuse me?”

The Guardian remains shrouded in the shadows, baffled by your strange behavior.

“I don’t know who might be out there, if there is anyone. But this land is very beautiful. I cannot imagine the work it took to bring it back to life. I must extend my gratitude.” You gingerly set the plate down in the grass, feeling like a fool,

“These are for you. As a token of my thanks to the Guardian of this land.”

How rude it would be, the Guardian thinks, to not accept your thanks personally. Stepping out from the trees, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You freeze, unable to breathe. His torso is human-like, but his legs are that of a deer, and his face is like that of a goat. For a second, you wonder if you had perhaps summoned a demon by accident.

He doesn’t like the smell of your fear in his nostrils, “Don’t be afraid, please.” The voice is soft and low. He’s starts approaching you slowly, and you are still crumpled on the ground in complete shock. You feel a strong wave that warm golden energy waft over you as he gets closer. It feels like drinking a nice glass of wine.

He sits down just close enough to reach the plate you brought him. He smiles softly at the crystal he thumbs between his fingers, “it’s very pretty-“

His breath hitches when he notices the lock of your hair. “Oh-“ he murmurs, delicately picking up the bundle between his large fingers.

“You-you did all of this?” You ask meekly, breaking the silence. He’s still staring at the lock of your hair dwarfed in his giant palm.

“Everything.”

“W-well thank you very much.” You weren’t quite sure where to go from here. Was this some ritual you accidentally started ending with your heart in his stomach? He didn’t really look… blood thirsty though. Around his wrists were several delicate little bracelets of woven vine and natural stone, and around his neck was a long pendant from which hung a brilliant tiger’s eye stone which matched his eyes. He was really quite beautiful.

He noticed you eyeing him, admiring his adornments. “You can look closer,” He exclaimed pridefully, arms stretched out to you, “You can touch.”

You carefully take his wrist into your hand, running a thumb over the jewelry. You glance up his arm and to his torso, now able to see the deep scars in the moonlight. He senses your train of thought, even more proud to tell you all about worthiness in battle. “There are bad spirits sometimes, ones that threaten the balance of my realm. I defeated them all.”

You grow bold, running hand up his bicep and tracing over a scar there. His skin is hot under your touch. You pull back, “Sorry, that was rude-“

“No, please. I have not been touched like this… in many years. It is… pleasing.” His voice drips with need, bringing your hand to his arm again. You understand him entirely, bringing your hand to his shoulder where there is an especially deep scar. He raises his hand and cups your cheek, an intimate gesture but perhaps this spirit just has different notions of intimacy. He moves down to your collarbone, where you have your own scar from a car accident years ago.

“I didn’t know humans could be so lovely. Are you sure you are one?” He mutters, tracing his clawed fingers down your arm. You shiver at his touch, goosebumps forming on your delicate skin. “Do you have a name?”

You nod, “Y/n.”

“Please call me Silvans, y/n.” The name is familiar to you, perhaps one that you had glanced over during your research. “Silvans.” You repeated out loud. He loved the sound of his voice on your tongue. He wanted to taste it. He wanted to taste all of you. This was his first time being so close to a human, and experience he at one time assumed would be revolting. Silvans gasped when you moved both of your hands to his chest, still tracing your fingers over all his scars there.

He made a bold judgment, placing both hands on your chest over the thin tank top you were wearing. “Ah-“ you gasped, feeling heat rush to your face. He was fascinated by your reaction, not realizing this was an intimate region for human females. “P-please don’t stop.”

This was all he needed to hear. He tore your tank top down the middle like it was a piece of paper, leaving your torso naked to him. Instinctually you cover yourself, earning a smirk and light scolding from him, “Humans are so strange.”

You yelp when he pulls you onto his lap, removing your arms from your chest. He’s practically licking his lips at the thought of you. His hands start working your breasts, swirling his thumbs around your hard nipples. You’re making the most sinful noises, like a soft melody to his twitching ears. You can feel yourself beginning to pool in your most intimate region. He leans you back a bit, giving himself access to suckle on your sore nipples.

He’s barely holding himself together. His breaths come out like desperate panting, his nostrils flaring at the first whiff of your wet and desperate pussy. “So… soft,” he breathes out, “do you… offer yourself to me?”

“Yes.” You respond breathlessly. He pulls you back in, licking your lips as if asking for permission. You open to him, letting him explore your mouth with his longe velvety tongue. It’s not like how humans kiss, he’s practically drinking you down. He pulls back, leaving the two of you connected by a long string of saliva. There is something… animalistic about it.

Your head nestles in the grass as he lays you down, towering over you. He tears off the little pajama pants you’re wearing with ease, leaving you completely bare. For a good long minute, he’s staring at your mound covered in hair, bringing his fingers to trace up and down your happy trail,

“Can I taste? Please?” He wasn’t asking, he was begging. You nod fervently, and in a flash he’s on his stomach pinning your legs behind his shoulders.

“Smells so good.” He grunts. The feeling of his warm breath makes your cunt flutter. He’s already bucking himself into the grass below him, working his hot needy cock out of its sheathe. He parts the lips of your pussy for full access, and takes a long exaggerated lick across the surface.

“Ah- yes-“ you groan, bucking into his face. You couldn’t tell from the position you were in, but he was drooling into your pussy. It was like nothing he had tasted before. A delicacy. His tongue played with you at your entrance, lapping up your juices greedily. His shifted upwards to your red and swollen clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive little pearl. You cried out softly, squirming beneath him, and by now his cock is fully unsheathed and leaking.

Again he moves his tongue back your entrance, sliding his tongue inside of your as far as it can manage. He pokes into the spongey roof of your cunt, and without thinking you reach down to grab his horns. His wet nose presses into your clit, and you find yourself grinding into him for full stimulation.

You don’t last much longer. The experience is just as overwhelming for him as it is for you. Your orgasm rushes down his tongue and into his throat, making his head spin. He needs his cock inside of you. On his knees, you gasp at the feeling of his hot member slapping against your stomach. It’s big. Very big. And at the base there is a fat red knot, which you are sure won’t fit. He’s hasty and scattered, one hand on your hip, and another in the grass next you your head. He is holding on to the ground so tight to remain tethered to reality, that you can hear grass ripping from the ground.

“Take me…” you whisper to him, spreading your legs in invitation.

“This will be sh-short-lived, I must admit.” He stuttered. In this moment you saw him in a different light. Lonely and needy. Needy for love. Needy for companionship. It was such a human thing. You reached up and pulled him close by his neck, whispering in his ear, “Do not fret, Silvans. This will not be the last time.”

He groaned, and you felt the warmth of his tip at your entrance. Slowly, methodically, as if he was savoring this moment, he enters you.

“Does it hurt? Y/n?” Over and over again he’s asking you this, and you have to reassure him through the pleasure that you are okay. He starts rocking into you, filling you all the way to the top of his knot. His pace quickens, now both hands with a vice grip on your hips. Surely you will have bruises in the morning. His pace starts becoming frenzied, the image before him is too much to bear. Your arms limp with pleasure over your head, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your eyebrows knitted together and eyes screwed shut-

“OH-“ you both let out a strangled gasp as he pushes his knot into your swollen cunt. You feel a rush of liquid warmth fill you up. You look up at him and he’s staring at the stars, muttering something in an ancient language you don’t understand. Maybe a prayer? The two of you sit there for a second longer, and you try to wriggle off of his still erect cock. But to no avail.

“We must stay together, until sunrise. I’m sorry- I guess I mean I’m stuck inside until-“

You giggled, still lying beneath him. You had thought he might disappear into the night after he finished. After being fully satisfied. It was a welcome predicament, to be stuck warming his cock for the next couple hours.

-

Anyways Merrrrrrry Christmas ho ho ho

[the-cauldron-witch]

Sincerity

Silly fic with a silly prompt; Shy reader with a nervous stutter is never sure Mikey truly means it when he flirts with her, so he figures out a way to prove his sincerity.

Special shout out to @sophiacloud28 for double checking my work!

Laughter, friends, food, and alcohol. That was the night’s theme as you danced in the busy nightclub with your group of friends, more than grateful to April for inviting you out tonight. For a good two or three- possibly four- weeks you had done nothing but work, sleep, and eat when you had a chance in between. You would more than likely be working well into the night right now, had April not instead convinced you to come out for drinking and dancing.

“You want another drink?” April questioned over the rhythmic thumping of the music while twisting and stepping her way through the crowd, wrapping an arm around your shoulders playfully once she reached you.

“Nah, I think I’m good!” You politely declined, having finished off your third mixed drink a few moments ago. While yes, tomorrow was your scheduled day off as forced by your boss, you didn’t intend on spending it nursing a hangover while praying to the porcelain Gods. The alcohol already in your system was working wonders, the warm glow loosening up your muscles enough to dance and sway to the beat. Unwinding her arm from your shoulder, April followed your rhythm and danced alongside you.

“I wasn’t really the one asking!” April informed as she pointed behind you. Turning your back to April you looked at the large gyrating crowd, the bright orange of Mikey’s mask catching your eye as he danced his way over to you and April. Three shots of amber liquid held in his tridactyl hands- two in one hand and one in the other- Mikey’s smile beamed brigther once he was close enough to speak at a relatively normal volume.

“Heeey, look at you two gorgeous thangs!” He greeted you with a grin that always managed to turn you into a blushing mess, no matter how often you saw it. Mikey’s bright blue eyes didn’t waver from you as he spoke and for a moment you thought that maybe, just maybe, that statement was mainly meant for you. Holding out the two shots in his tridactyl hand, Mikey offered the two drinks for you and April to take.

“Well…alright, jus’ this last one, I’m a lil’ tipsy already” Your tongue trips over your teeth as you spoke, deciding that maybe one more drink wouldn’t give you that terrible of a hangover tomorrow. Smirking knowingly but not commenting, April snagged one of the shot glasses and you eagerly took the other. Fingers grazing ever so slightly sent a wave of fire up your arm and to your cheeks, grateful that you were drinking and could simply blame the alcohol for the heat spreading across your face.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Angelcakes! I’ll make sure that beautiful face of yours gets home,” He winked down at you and left you tongue tied, unable to form another sentence.

Angelcakes, gorgeous, beautiful, and so many more pet names that always had a way of slightly melting your heart. Mikey had no problem peppering you with these affectionate pet names and compliments, but these weren’t exclusively towards you. The countless times you had witnessed Mikey calling April the same ‘Angelcakes’ or compliment the cute red-head bar tender he goes to specifically because she is easiest to make smile. Which…made it hard for you to believe his pet names held meaning or the compliments were genuine. Holding his glass out to cheers, April and you met him in the middle.

Clink!

Downing the alcohol, you quickly found out by the flavor and burn that the drink was Mikey’s favorite bourbon Jameson. Shuddering as the warmth settled into your veins, you caught yourself staring at Mikey in awkward silence for a minute longer than usual thanks to the alcohols effect. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as a cover to tear your gaze away from him, you cleared your throat and quickly spoke.

“I-I need to get some water, excuse me” As awkwardly but politely as you could you excused yourself to the bar, leaving April and Mikey standing together on the dance floor. Shoulders sagging with a sigh, Mikey watched as you scampered away to the counter with that adorable blush spread across your cheeks. He loved the way you always played with your hair when you got nervous, such a cute tick. Following April off the dance floor to a less crowded area with tall pub tables, Mikey couldn’t take his eyes off you as he leaned onto the black surface.

“What am I doin’ wrong, April?” He questioned without turning to her, eyes trained to your back as you ordered an ice water from the bar tender. Side eyeing him sympathetically, April propped an elbow on the table and leaned into it while looking up at him.

“She doesn’t think you’re being sincere when you flirt with her like that,” April confided, a small smile turning the corners of her lips. Ever the confidante, you had already spoken to April about your feelings for the youngest ninja turtle and how you felt that because he said such things to other woman often, there was no way he actually meant it towards you. The fact stung a little, but it didn’t deter Mikey.

“What? Of course I’m being sincere! I think she’s absolutely adorable and gorgeous-” Mikey would have gone on and one had April not reached her hand outwards with her index finger extended in a gesture to stop him.

“Yes, but you also say that to just about every woman you meet. Hell, you’ve called the bar tender your signature ‘Angelcakes’ every time you’ve made eye contact with her since you got here,” April stated, tapping her nail against the table with emphasis. “She isn’t sure you’re being sincere towards her because you say it to everyone.”

“How do I show her I’m sincere though? I really do mean it when I say those things, honest…” Mikey questioned, his eyes returning to your back as you continued to sit on the bar stool. Watching Mikey watch you with a smirk on her face, April paused and wondered how exactly to word her next sentence. In truth, April did believe Mikey when he said that he genuinely thought you were beautiful, gorgeous, adorable, and any other word he could possibly think of in his current inebriated state. But you were looking for something more, something that hadn’t been said or maybe mentioned, just to be sure of his sincerity towards you was there.

“That’s…hard to say, Mike. Saying and doing something sincere isn’t exactly planned, it has to be organic.” Shrugging her shoulders unsurely, April couldn’t figure out how else to answer his question. A quiet nod in silence was all Mikey gave, his bright orange bandana reflecting the many strobe lights bouncing around. While watching you from afar, he couldn’t help but note how your feet fidgeted beneath the bar stool. The heels you wore were rather tall, not something you normally wore he quietly noted.

Slumped over the bar silently and staring down at the slowly emptying glass of water you sipped at with a thin black straw, you silently admonished yourself for fleeing from Mikey yet again. Stupid, you felt so stupid for being such a clumsy idiot around him again. Every time you’re around him you turn into a stuttering and fumbling mess and that’s without drinking! Now you were three blueberry-lemonade mixed drinks, plus one bourbon shot deep, you were completely unable to control the way your cheeks blushed both from the heat of the alcohol and the way Mikey’s presence made you feel a storm of emotions. Taking another long, slow sip of cold water to soothe your nerves again, you debate on whether you should head home as the ache in your feet begins to pulse.

The heels you chose to wear tonight were brand new, ones you had bought on a total whim while walking by a shop that had a window sale. The heels are taller than usual, a shade of black that matches almost every outfit you own, on top of being well within your price range, there was no way you were leaving without them. You chose tonight to wear them to catch Mikey’s eye in hopes of a compliment of some sort, but he gave you the typical ‘Lookin’ fine, Angelcakes!’ as you climbed out of your car. You didn’t let it bother you though, tonight was about fun, and you’re having plenty of it. Exhaustion from working so hard these past few weeks and dancing with your friends began to catch up to you, starting with your feet.

“Hey,” Mikey greeted you as he strolled over as casually as he could force himself, trying to not act as though he had been watching you this entire time. “You doin’ alright?”

“Oh, yeah! J-Jus’ a lil’ drunk. Needed to hydrate myself.” Sheepishly smiling up at him, your fingers couldn’t help but fidget with the straw in your glass, the ice inside clinking and rattling giving you something to focus on…other than the way his smile always reached his eyes, somehow making them shine just right. “I um…I was thinkin’ about headin’ home soon, actually. I am exhausted,”

“I’ll walk you home whenever you’re ready,” Mikey offered, tilting his head down to watch your aching feet attempt to relieve the pressure by slipping your shoe halfway off. He looked back up to you, sympathy softening his features, “I meant what I said about getting that beautiful face of yours home safely. Don’t want you runnin’ into something scarier than a mutant turtle,”

“O-oh, are you sure? You don’t have to i-if you don’t want to, I could get an uber.” You couldn’t help but sound a little startled at the offer, not because you didn’t want to be alone with him but because you’re afraid how you would act while alone with him. The thought of humiliating yourself by saying something silly or embarrassing yourself by stuttering even more terrified you, but on the same hand the thought of having Mikey alone delighted you. It was an opportunity you two didn’t often have.

“Of course, take your time if you’re not ready though! Keep having fun, finish your water, no rush. I just want to make sure you get some safe, honey.” A reassuring hand pressed against the small of your back sending fire up your spine. He didn’t let his hand linger, although he desperately wanted to, pulling his hand away and taking to leaning against the bar. The nickname ‘honey’ rang loud and clear in your ears. Did he call you that on purpose, or was it a slip? That was a question you had to find an answer to.

Looking down at the ice you had been stirring for a moment, there was maybe a sip of water left at best. The thought of ordering something small to eat from behind the bar had crossed your mind, but now that Mikey had genuinely offered to walk you home the frozen pizza buried in your freezer sounded better now. Maybe, if you invited him for pizza, it’d give him an opportunity to call you ‘honey’ again if it wasn’t a slip.

“Yeah, just um…let me say goodbye to your brothers, Casey, and April real fast?” Draining the last sip of water as you stood up was probably a good idea, silencing the hiss that would have left your clenched teeth as the back of your heels dug into your Achilles heel. The raw sting of open blisters was slightly uncomfortable, but the alcohol thankfully made it tolerable. That was the price of looking cute, you supposed.

“Of course! Whenever you are ready”

---

The night air was chilly as you and Mikey stepped out of the club, leaving your friends April, Casey, and Mikey’s three older brothers at the club. Hugging your arms together and slightly regretting not grabbing a jacket you shivered as the cold night air greeted your skin. Looking back on it, leaving the jacket at home because it didn’t match the outfit was a silly reason. Noticing the goosebumps and hairs raising up and down your arms, Mikey grabbed the knotted sleeves to his Nike hoodie around his waist and untied them. Not giving you the chance to question or even notice, he slid the black hoodie over your head.

“Mikey!” You shouted as your head promptly shoved through the neck opening.

“What? I can’t let you get cold!” Mikey grinned happily and winked. Gratefully, you smiled at the gesture and slipped your arms through the sleeves. Perhaps that ‘honey’ slip was just that, a mistake he caught and promptly corrected. That was fine, at least you got to wear his sweatshirt. The smell of Mikey’s body wash and cologne clung heavy to the sweatshirt with hidden traces of Italian herbs- pizza was a part of this man in every way.

The idle chit-chat between the two of you was surprisingly comfortable, your stutter thankfully subsided for the time and Mikey kept the compliments and jokes flowing. It made the walk to your apartment much easier, the ache and sting in your feet on the other hand was making it increasingly difficult to keep up with Mikey’s wide stride. A hiss here and wince there, you tried to hide the sting in your heels at every step on the asphalt walkway. Unfortunately, you were only a third of the way home when Mikey stopped and turned to you.

“You’re limping, are you okay?” Mikey questioned with concern, watching you wince again as your heel caught a crack in the pavement.

“Mmph! Yeah, sorry. These new heels are just killing my feet,” Pausing a moment to kick a foot up behind you, catching sight of heel to inspect the new stinging sensation blooming on your heels. An open blister stared back, a droplet of fresh blood following the crease of your heel.

“Oh, honey! Why didn’t you say something?” There it was, that nickname again, it caught you so off guard that you almost tipped ass over teakettle. A massive, solid green bicep snaked around your waist before your splayed palms could contact the ground. You blinked and in one movement you were being held against his chest with one arm. “You should have said something!” He cooed.

As gently as he slipped off the first heel Mikey took off the second and held the pair in his one free hand, brows knitted with concern and lip pouting adorably as he studied the small open bleeding blisters on your Achilles heels. Words failed you entirely now, both because he had called you honey again and because of how genuinely and sweetly concerned he was towards you. Swallowing and closing your drying mouth, you studied the scar on his chin while his own attention was on your feet.

“As cute as these heels are, you shouldn’t be hurting yourself to look good” The way his smile reached his eyes, crinkling the edges and reflecting the streetlights as he began to walk at a steady pace, made you feel safe in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Y-you don’t have to carry me!” Your voice was a little louder than you intended, clearing your throat to cover you continued in a lower tone, “I can walk, it’s okay-”

“Absolutely not!” Mikey scoffed in disgust and surprise that you would suggest such a thing, “I live in the sewers, honey, but even I wouldn’t walk barefoot on these sidewalks!”

“You…keep calling me honey,” Even though there was a questionable lilt to your voice, it was a statement. Half expecting him to act embarrassed at being caught, it was a little surprising when he chuckled at your response as though you were stating something as obvious as the sky being blue.

“Is that okay? Do you mind if I call ya ‘honey’?” He questioned with a crooked grin, cocking a ridge where an eyebrow normally would be if he were human. Opening and closing your mouth like a gaping fish as your mind raced to search for what to respond with, a thought occurred to you; had you ever heard Mikey use that nickname on anyone?

“No- I mean yes! I mean…I-I’ve never heard you use that name before, is all. I uh I don’t mind if you call me honey,” Words tumbled out of your mouth as you spoke while nervously tucking a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

“Nah, this nickname is only for you, honey!” Mikey beamed down at you brighter than any passing streetlight. The sincerity in his voice sent your heart fluttering and mind to continue racing with a hundred questions and curiosities. Was this his way of asking you out? Was that something you asked, or should you wait and let this continue a little longer?

“Hey…I got a frozen pizza up at my place,” Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the euphoric feeling the new nickname gave you, but you decided to take a shot in the dark your normally shy self never would have. At this point, you needed to know. “Do you maybe want to come up and have a slice with me?”

“If there are two things on this earth that I will never say no to: it’s pizza and more time with you,” Winking down at you with a smug grin, you couldn’t help but break into a fit of nervous giggles. Excitement and anticipation sent your hear racing, as the two of you made it home in the oddly calming silence of New York City.

Taglist: @silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @yorshie

@truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73

@luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @milykins @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

[ddollfface]

Hello, first of all I really appreciate your blog. I love to read your story's, they are incredible C:

Secondly, I wanted to take a request for a yandere baki? Like, he falls for a classmate who is really shy and insecure but she secretly trains to become more confident and stronger? Maybe Baki wants to help her (or not depends on how you think yandere baki would be) and also protect her?

Sorry if my request is a little bit confusing ^^" If it's too random for you, you can just write general yandere baki headcanons :") I hope you have a nice day and thank you in advance :D<3

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚!𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Trigger Warnings; Bad writing, she/her pronouns, possessive thoughts, not really yandere, reader is depicted as really socially awkward and clumsy, uhhh Kozue doesn't exist in this universe ig (I'm sorry bbg) It's no problem, nonny! I love it when ya'll give me random scenarios lol. Though I write really slowly, so sorry that it's been so long... Enjoy and give me any feedback! I'm still trying to tweak Baki's character profile!

“C’mon, do one more. You got this,” 

You panted, stretching your muscles to the extent you could, bringing your chin above the bar, trying to focus on the searing stretch in your muscles, and using it to motivate you as you lifted yourself up once more. Your thighs were clenched, trying to fight gravity, and get twenty pull-ups, surprising yourself when your head gets above the bar. 

Seventeen… that’s Baki’s age, you think with a small smile gracing your face as you go for another one, only to whine, wincing as your arms refuse to move. Just as you’re about to drop, you feel your classmate, who you’re too nervous to call a friend, hands grab your waist, helping you down from the pull-up bar. His hands cupped your waist, practically carrying your weight in his hands, catching you off-guard.

“I-thank you, Baki,” You mumbled, glancing over your shoulder as he set you on the ground, and smiling. A warm feeling fluttered in your chest, feeling accomplished at how many pull-ups you did. Only just a month ago, you couldn’t even hang from the bar without getting sore, but with Baki’s help, you’ve improved so much! It makes you giddy as you think of your progress, of how far you’ve come, and how much stronger you’ll be in the future. It gives you a surge of confidence whenever you find yourself exerting some of your newfound strength, beginning to love yourself a little more. 

“No problemo,” Baki shrugs, trying to remain lax, ignoring the throbbing of his heart. He got to touch you, place his hands on your waist, and carry your weight. God, you’re so pretty, even when you’re all sweaty. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy (he is). Your presence feels like a punch to the gut, giving him a newfound energy, the same feeling he chases when he fights. His heart pumping blood throughout his body, forcing it through his veins as his brain races with thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts. He can almost feel his hands shake, practically begging his conscience for a chance to grab, hold, and smother you with affection, to pepper kisses all over your face, and praise your body in a way you deserve. 

He can’t even describe the surge of joy he got when you asked him for help, looking at him… well you didn’t look at him, preferring the ground’s gaze whenever you talk to him, but that didn’t matter too much. Your words were far more important. The moment your soft voice shyly asked for him to train you, to help you out because you wanted to be better, to be more confident. 

And while Baki loved you for who you were and the way you were he understood. He understood wanting to be better, to strive for more and more until your nails have gone raw and bloody, unable to claw away. He understands the feeling of not being where you want to be, of not being stronger, or accomplishing more. 

Though you both have different reasons for training, he understands the core values of it. You’re training to help build confidence and find value in yourself, while Baki does it because it’s a staple in his life, the only consistent pillar throughout his short years. But you both share the determination and though you likely will never be as strong as him, which is completely okay and likely how he’d prefer it, he admires how you had the confidence to approach him, asking him for help with something so personal.

Of course, he said yes. What kind of man would he be if he denied you help? Especially when you asked so sweetly? He still remembers how his cheeks grew warm and how he could hear his heart thud against his ribs at the idea of watching you work out. And though, Baki will never admit to it… you’re just so pretty, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. You’re so soft, so kind, and just so cute. There’s no way he can’t gawk, respectfully, whenever he sees you squat, or how you smile whenever you complete a set, looking at him with amazement. Sometimes you’ll even hug him! And, honestly, he could die a happy man!

He tries his hardest, never wanting to make you uncomfortable, keeping your best interests in mind, and that’s why he absolutely refuses to let you work out in public. Nope, nope, nope, that’s not going to happen. Sure, you two can go on a run together, but he makes sure to give you one of his athletic zip-ups, not wanting guys to gawk at you, knowing that they will. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re only sixteen, he knows how men think, how they reduce you to your body. You’re so much more than that, and that’s why his blood boiled when he saw a guy let his eyes trail across your body as you did some push-ups. Yeah, no, you’re never going to a public gym again, that was the first and last time he’d ever let you do that. 

And if you were to ask, he’ll just say that you can’t even imagine the amount of sweat and bacteria on those machines. Can’t you imagine how many sweaty, grubby hands have touched those dumbbells? Or how many people have sat on that bench? Yeah, you can’t give him a number, and after that, you refused to touch your face without washing your hands and wiping away any grime from your face with a wet wipe, even upping your skincare a little.

Don’t get it wrong, you’re not a germaphobe or anything, but you had to agree with Baki, though you weren’t going to challenge him either way. You had noticed the gleam in his eyes as he pulled you up and off the floor, stopping you in the middle of your rep. Of course, you pouted a little, seeing as you were about to do ten push-ups! But you didn’t say anything, not wanting to stir any trouble, so you just kept your head down as Baki said you guys were going to end early. 

You didn’t want to, but you trusted Baki, and you weren’t going to say no when he looked so sure of himself. You hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemingly darkened when he walked behind you, noticing how your leggings hugged you too tightly, nor did you seem to care when he handed you a jacket, saying you looked a little cold. If anything, you thought it was extremely sweet, and it made your cheeks grow warm, and your stomach does flips. 

“Well, it’s getting pretty late; you want me to take you home?” Baki’s voice draws you out of your little trip down memory lane, causing you to look up from your hands, which you were probably staring at for an embarrassing amount of time. With a small smile, you nod your head, turning to face Baki, and wiping some sweat from your brow. 

“Um, sure! That sounds like a plan-” You cut yourself off with an awkward chuckle, internally cursing yourself for being such a dork. I mean, what could Baki, probably the strongest man in the world, be thinking of you? He probably thinks you're super duper weird and that you sweat too much, oh God. What if you smell! 

Slowly losing yourself in your thoughts, Baki quirked a brow, noticing that you seemingly were spacing out, so, like any normal person who definitely hasn’t been daydreaming about his moment since he first met you, he placed his hand on your shoulder and tilts his head, “*Hey, are you good? You’re not lightheaded or anything, right? That wouldn’t be too good, yeah?*”

Baki had a small, reassuring smile on his lips, and the small mole on his upper lip stretched slightly, catching your attention. Feeling your cheeks heat up, your brain went into override, becoming overwhelmed with how close Baki was. You could see all the pores in his skin, and you could feel him too. His palm was oddly warm, maybe a little sweaty, but that was probably just you… ew. His hand cupped your shoulder, thumb drumming against your colder skin softly as he awaited your response, but you just looked at him with parted lips, eyes wide, and mind blank. 

You definitely looked like an idiot, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, feeling a little awestruck. Let’s just say that conversations have really never been your thing, especially when they’re cute guys without a shirt. Trying your best, you succeeded in keeping your eyes locked on his face, not letting them linger and drift down to his neck, where his SCM muscle flowed down to his clavicle and mended with the infrahyoid muscle group, only for his trapezius muscle to lay over his shoulder blade and peak from his back. His pectoralis majors were bulging against his sternum, making him seem more like a bodybuilder than a normal, teenage boy, not even to mention his serratus anterior, which was clearly defined and wrapped around his sides-

“Geez, man, you’re such a creep, staring at my muscles,” Baki chuckled, hiding how giddy he felt with your eyes on him, him, him.  His hand moved from your shoulder to your head, ruffling your hair with a cheeky grin as he tilted his head teasingly, “Is that a little drool I see there?” The hand on your head moved to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip, as if there were really drool (there wasn’t, he just wanted to make you flustered). His calloused fingers teased your cheek, almost covering your whole face, and you thought you might just die. 

“Pphha-Oh, my God! I’m so, so sorry, Baki! That was so weird-” You fumbled over yourself, practically jumping away from his hand with a warm face. Your lips were trembling slightly, your nerves dripping through your veins as you cracked your knuckles, unsure of what to do with yourself as you felt your blood turn into molten lava. Standing with your arms straight and hands by your side, you quickly maneuvered to get your stuff, quickly remembering what the conversation was. Slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder, your legs were unstable as you steadied yourself and glanced around Baki’s home, not wanting to come anywhere near his gaze. 

“Well, anyways-I, um… I think I should go, um, home.” I spoke unceremoniously, ending your words with an out-of-place cough, only fueling Baki’s amusement as he looked you up and down. You were just so cute. He could just eat you up. His syrupy brown eyes swirled with amusement, taking in your nervous form. He really is obsessed, isn’t he?

He can’t get enough of your flustered smile, the way your lips quirk and tremble as you let meaningless words slip from your lips. Your eyes always got so scattered, flickering across whatever room, just to avoid his gaze. Although he’d love for you to get more comfortable, to just relax around him, he does enjoy these moments where you slur your speech and wave your hands around; it’s comforting in a sense. Deciding not to push any further, knowing your heart would probably thump out of your chest, he shrugs his shoulders and gives your bicep a small tap, “Sure thing, I’ll let you off this time.”

His voice was soft and playful as to coax you out of being so nervous. You just smile stiffly, feeling your heart thump, thump, thump, going crazy in your ribcage as you try to cool your tense figure, to slow the blood flooding in your ears. Giving him a nervous, wonky smile, you shrug your bag further up your shoulders, needing to do anything to distract you from the situation at hand. Baki was just so cool, and everything about him was amazing, but you were just… you. For God’s sake! Baki is probably the strongest man in the world, for all you know! And he’s training you of all people? He must be an angel or something… 

That’s what you think. You don’t know the gleam that flickers through his eyes whenever you turn away, the pure, utterless obsession that flows through his veins. Though Baki wouldn’t consider himself to be a jealous man, by any means, he can’t help but worry about you. You also don’t know the amount of men he’s dealt with through the school year; the amount of people he’s had to… steer away from you, just to keep you safe. But that’s good. You don’t need to know, ever. 

And you still don’t know as you walk side-by-side through the residential neighborhood, Baki holding your bag, of course. He always insists that he helps you out, seeing as you must be oh so tired from your workout, so just let him help you out, yeah?

To you, it was a smooth night, although a little awkward and embarrassing, it was nice. There was a soft breeze, so it was pleasing on the back of your neck, and you could feel your hair tussle and flow. Humming under your breath, you glance around the neighborhood you know like the back of your hand, and observe the different houses. Many were more 1970s-stylized architecture, but it was pretty nonetheless. They all had dark, wooden frames and sloped roofs, guarded by flimsy, wooden fences. With your eyes locked onto your surroundings, you lost track of how long you’d been walking until Baki suddenly stopped, nudging you for your attention. 

“Oh, thanks for walking me home, Baki…” You chuckle, catching yourself before you could make you look like more of an airhead. Scratching your cheek, you turned your back, standing in front of the gate that led to your small home, where your parents were probably snooping out the window to see what cute boy had brought you home…

“Nah, we’re chillin’. I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know how it is.” He shrugged, giving you a small, endearing smile before shoving his hands into his jean pockets, glancing at the ground before looking back at you. Giggling sheepishly, you messed with the hem of your shirt, before clearing your throat and straightening your posture. The air was oddly relaxing, though still a little stiff.

“Yeah, but you really didn’t need to, especially since you’re carrying my bag, too!” You sighed dramatically, pursing your lips slightly as you tried to make the mood a little lighter, more for yourself than Baki. He chuckled, rolling his eyes a little with some sass, handing you your bag as you motioned for it. 

“Geez, what d’ya think of me? I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I let you walk out here by yourself.” Baki flicked your forehead with a quirked brow, continuing, “But really don’t mention it. You’re like my best friend, practically my responsibility.” He added with a nonchalant grin. 

Nodding your head with a smile, trying to ignore the growing warmth on the back of your neck. God, talking to Baki was so easy, even if you fumbled your words an embarrassing amount of times, and you couldn’t help but feel your brain speed up, racing a million miles per hour. Subconsciously, your eyes kept lingering, down, down, down toward his lips, watching them move as he spoke. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, there was a tug on your heart, feeling a pull toward Baki, and he felt it, too. 

Just do it. Just do it. Just do it. Oh, c’mon! Just do it! You hyped yourself up, adjusting your duffle bag on your shoulder as I leaned your weight onto one foot to another, slightly nudging yourself closer to Baki. Your heart was pounding, ringing in your ears as you kept your eyes nervously locked on his face. Baki had continued talking, rambling off about some fight he had recently. Of course, you loved hearing Baki talk, but you couldn’t think straight, hyper-fixating on this inner turmoil that took over your thoughts. Though Baki had noticed your fidgeting and shift in behavior, he brushed it off as you just being antsy to go to sleep. Wait; why are you so close?

And just like that your lips brushed against his cheek, only there for half a second that Baki thought that he had imagined it. A slip of electricity had shot through both of you, a lingering warmth on his cheek as Baki stared at you with wide eyes. You just kissed him! Baki’s brain went into overload, standing there with his lips parted like a fish. Of course, your face had blossomed with an overwhelming amount of warmth, so hot that even Baki could feel it radiate off of you. Without a second thought, you rushed into your home, though not without running into the half-opened gate and tripping up the steps. 

Baki hadn’t even noticed your clumsy movements, far too focused on the warmth that swelled under his skin, a feeling he wasn’t used to. The tips of his fingers were pulsing, feeling static as he urged himself to do something, but his mind was caught up on what he felt. Everything was upside down, his world spinning, and the rhythm of his heart kept him in a jumble. It felt like his brain was empty but swirling with more thoughts than it should. Your lips felt oh so soft, and he couldn’t forget; he didn’t want to forget. 

“You’re just too much.” He mumbled under his breath, a newfound determination blossomed in his heart, and a lovesick gleam in his brown eyes. You just confirmed everything he’s ever wanted and dreamed of; you were his. You want to be his. That just means that you don’t need them either, all you need is him, and he’s sure you wouldn’t mind just staying at his place, right? You’re practically dating now, and it’s only right that you live together; that’s what couples do, right? 

As he walked away, steps a little off-center, a plan formed in his head, obsessive delusions fueling it. With just one, small kiss, you had decided your fate. No longer could you get off as just being his “best friend”, no. You were his lover now, his future wife. Though you didn’t seem to fully grasp that, Baki’s glad to give a helping hand.

[sturniology]

bsf! text msgs w matt sturniolo x fem!reader

part 10 -> part 9

WARNING : none !

OMGGG THIS IS THE TENTH PART 😭😭 thats mad

LOOOOOOONG one (? 😭)

[qveyr]

The Jealousy That Remains: You’re Her Drug

notes: fem! reader x sevika, wlw, heavy and vulgar profanities are used, grammatical errors might be seen, and the pictures used are from Pinterest. enjoy reading ;)

Are you jealous?

Jealous? Tch, a fucking useless statement I’ve ever heard today. You gotta be kidding me, doll. I’ll never be jealous of someone who isn’t mine. Why would I feel such jealousy when we’re not even together in the first place?

Eyes never lie. That saying is true, always been true. The glint in her eyes is unambiguous; she doesn’t need to speak it out clearly because it’s obvious. Fucking obvious. However, you made things transparent, and she agreed to your negotiation. No strings, no relationship, no hard feelings. But she’s there, sitting there, her eyes digging on that woman beside you.

Flirting with another woman, sweetness?

That look you gave to her was just the same as Sevika’s. The look when you wanted something from her. You bat your eyelashes, attempting faux innocence. It doesn’t suit you when you do that to someone else, so fucking remove that in your face. It doesn’t suit you, not when your eyes are dancing in the same heat when you’re talking with Sevika. Leaving her with no choice, Sevika waited for you impatiently. She takes a drag on her cigarette, releasing toxic gas through the atmosphere. Fuck, the things you do to her. Are you purposely making Sevika jealous?

“See you, darling. Hoping to see you again next time.” You said as you trod towards Sevika, strutting like a peacock proudly. A normal expression on your face, acting like nothing happened earlier.

“Honey, what’s up? You look—”

Jealous.

“Shut it, doll.”

Oh? Two can play this game. An amused smirk tugged at your lips, twirling the locks of your hair as a hearty chuckle escaped your mouth. Sevika is jealous. She’s either too shy or too vulnerable to say it. Perhaps she will never say it because of the lack of a label. You were never hers. Well, at least, not yet. “You jealous, sweetheart? Don’t be.” You mocked.

“Besides, we’re not together.”

Something inside of her snapped. Your voice in that statement sounded so bitter, and it’s such a hard pill to swallow. Sevika has no one to blame for it, but herself. The difference in the way you treated a stranger to Sevika is making her brain clouded with perplexing confusion.

Because how can you be so soft for a minute and have your claws out the next? It’s a mystery for her. But she likes that, Sevika loves challenges.

And you’re a challenge, a difficult challenge even needing to destroy all the obstacles just to make you hers.

So you sat on her lap, carefully taking her cancer stick and crushing it on a nearby ashtray. “Come on, darling. I told you to never smoke again. It’ll ruin your health, I swear.”

Sevika clicked her tongue, resting her arm on the armrest. “As if I’d care, you know.”

“Just kiss me… It’s much better than smoking.”

A cigarette is just like a kiss. Both are drugs.

[dissociativedollcherry]

୨୧ LAMB WITH TEETH ♡.°୭̥

Scout and Medic meeting an cutegore!reader ⁎⁺˳✧༚ 

Triggers: gore, lots of descriptive death, its TF2 so its the basic.

Reader's info: Reader is heavily implied to be a girl, very small (like five feet tall) and does blood rituals.

type: headcanons, romantic/platonic

୨୧ THE SCOUT ♡

୨୧ When scout first met you, he was heavily convinced you were not going to last in the battlegrounds, by your height and the way you dressed all in pink and cutesy ribbons, Not to mention that you had a bunch of stuffed animals in your bags.

୨୧ He would mock you for the first few days, calling you "short ghost", since you were always so quiet and observant, you didnt even greet him properly when he talked to you for the first time.

୨୧ The mockery would be often until the first day you had to fight together, and oh boy, shocked wasnt even close of how he felt after seeing you all covered in blood and pieces of organs.

୨୧ Your delicate and fluffy pink dress being painted by the vibrant red color of blood along with small pieces of the members of the enemy team's organs.

୨୧ Your chainsaw as pink as your dress, turned on and sawing your enemies in half without mercy, the sound of the chainsaw almost drowning out the enemy team's spy screams of pain.

୨୧ You turned off your chainsaw, leaving it aside stuck in the spy's stomach, you dashed away from the gory scenario you caused, pulling out a knife with a pink decorative bow on it, you were laughing like a maniac, ready to stab some bitches.

୨୧ he already was terrified by the thought that he understimated you who turned out being an total psycopath, and the sight he had of you chasing the other team's scout like your life depended on it didnt help at all.

୨୧ "IM GONNA USE YOUR HEAD AS MY DECORATION WALL YOU FUCKING BRAINLESS DEER" you shouted in the most terrifying, shivering voice chasing the enemy scout that was screaming like a fucking siren for his life.

୨୧ after the battle was over, Scout got real quiet around you, he wouldnt apologize or anything, he just would silently avoid talking to you.

୨୧ you noticed that, of course, but you didnt care at all, because you had other things to attend to.

୨୧ After a while, Scout little by little started trying to interact with you, to, you know, take away that guilt that he was excluding you from behind his back (or the fear that you will suddenly appears in his room to take all of his teeth out while he sleeps as revenge).

୨୧ and it turns out you're a chill person when not in killing mode or when your in "dont talk to me" mode, Scout hitted himself internally for subestimating you AGAIN.

୨୧ You two turned to be great friends in the end, but he still gets the creeps from you because of your brutal habits.

୨୧ he stays away from your room AT ALL COSTS.

୨୧ Seriously, the last time he entered your room without knocking, he witnessed you performing an creepy blood ritual with an Spy head (you TOTALLY didnt steal it from medic).

୨୧ You just waved to him like what you were doing was totally normal.

୨୧ But when hes not scared of you, he jokes with you alot, especially in the battlegrounds, he uses you as a threat alot to the enemies, or as a special weapon.

୨୧ "SAY HELLO, TO MY LITTLE FRIEND" he screams as he pulls you out of nowhere and throws you in the enemy heavy's face like a fucking bug.

୨୧ One time, you decided to pull a little prank on him, you hid yourself in his room's shadows, and when he finally entered, you jumped on him with the most terrifying screech ever.

୨୧ Lets say that Scout turned into Ariana grande that day.

୨୧ "ooo yeah your real scary." Scout said trying to keep his "toughness" after the most girly, feminine high pitched, chipmunking scream ever.

୨୧ meh, cant say that i see him dating someone as cruel as you, so 100% platonic

⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ MEDIC ୨୧

୨୧ OH NO, NOT HIM.

୨୧ Ok, i dont think he would take a liking to you at first, he would just ignore you, only thought he would have about you is that the way you dress is cute, but he would assume you were weak.

୨୧ Another one who would understimate you, the only difference is that he wouldnt mock you, its Medic, hes more mature than Scout. (anyone is more mature than scout.)

୨୧ He wouldnt even bat an eye on you, at most only wave or greet you shortly because he knows you're eerily quiet and doesnt really have a big habit of talking, until you two were in battle.

୨୧ He was healing heavy that time, and thats when he saw you stabbing an enemy demoman in the cheek repeatedly. your maniacal laughs almost silencing the demoman's screams and begs.

୨୧ He was STUNNED, he swore that he started seeing everything going in slow motion, your silky hair moving with each brutal and fast movement you did, the scarlet liquid flying into your delicate face and soft hair.

୨୧ You finished the demoman with only one hard and brute swing with your arms, your little delicate hands clutching the knife handle so hard that they were a little bit red, and with only one hard moviment, you carved your knife into the demoman's head.

୨୧ “Look! now your an unicorn” you mocked the now dead demoman infront of you, before grabbing your pink knife decorated with your enemy's blood and brain, getting up and running away like a possessed bug.

୨୧ The ex doctor's heart was beating like crazy, he didn't know what caused him to fall for you in that moment, you killing the man so brutally, or if it was your delicate pink clothes being dyed with blood. (or maybe both)

୨୧ After the battle, you could feel medic burning holes into you, he was staring you like crazy, not that it bothered you, it was just unusual for people to stare at you like that, especially when no one really dares to look at you out of feat.

୨୧ Medic would try to strike some conversation with you regardless if you answer him or not, he would just be happy with you listening to him.

୨୧ The thing that Medic most likes in you is how you can balance your cute aesthetic with your creepy habits, its really impressive to him, for him its either one or another.

୨୧ When he saw you doing your blood rituals, he would be interested, since.. you know, he already got involved with the devil himself, sometimes if you need he'll gift you with a kidney or two.

୨୧ "Well, my friend, i must say that i have subestimated vou in the first time we've met! i should judge a book by its cover less." he would confess in a casual discussion between you two.

୨୧ I think he would ask you out by gifting you a head with a note attached written: "will you steal organs with me?" real cheesy but creepy.

୨୧ He used uber on you once, not really a good idea... for the enemy team.

୨୧ You were tearing bitches left and right, there was guts and blood everywhere, in your face, body, floors, walls, EVERYWHERE.

୨୧ You only stopped when you met your demise, and medic was admiring you the entire time.

୨୧ Medic likes your killer-machine behavior, he says it adds to your cuteness ♡

[fairykazu]

like a movie scene, table for 2 with scaramouche masterlist + general taglist: @ainnofinway @lovemari @lily-lmao @aethion @jllyfsh-lvr

when scaramouche arrived at your house for a quick date, he didn't expect you to be in a frilly prom dress with bows and all. the way you turned over made him feel like he was intruding into your home abode. but he did tell you that he was on the way so maybe it is really your fault? he retorted, "i thought you said you didn't want to go to prom."

you quickly grabbed a big, tan trench coat draped over yourself. nervously laughing, "yeaaah... but i just wanted to look cool to you."

scaramouche just looks like a guy who wouldn't want to go to prom. but the way he was looking at you made you flustered. the guy you like is at your house. maybe, call yourself delusional but was his eyes were enchanted by you?

if he was though... you folded like a chair. he just threw you out of orbit and now, you're gone.

however, you didn't expect the next words out of his mouth. scaramouche furrowed his eyebrows, like he didn't believe what you just said, "you're my girlfriend? of course, i'd think you're cool."

"i am?" you reiterated, "i am your girlfriend?"

he scrunched up his face. it's kind of silly to see a guy like him scrunch up his face. even though the two of you have been friends for a good year, some expressions of his is a treat to see. "are you not?"

...

is it weird to ask him what are we? "i would like to be." fiddling with the ends of your frills, he sat down on the couch, dumbfounded. "but you are."

at the same time the both of you replied,

"you never asked?"

"i thought you knew?" he's kidding right? there's a small, frankly, big, part of you that wants it not to be a joke. but the teensy tiny voice in your brain refuses to believe it. you looked at his face, looking for any trace of jokes but you found none.

"anyway, did you want to go to prom? i could sneak you in, my mom funds like school anyway." he pulled you on his lap, careful of placing your frills down neatly. shifting out, you turned to him, "scaramouche, i thought we were-"

"yeah? but now we are dating?"

you sighed and gave up. once he put his mind to something, he doesn't stop. "okay, to answer your other question, yeah, i do want to go."

"good because i already got you tickets."

[beware-of-pity]

Sins of the Father(s) I

Masterlist

-Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary:

Bruce and you had known each other for as long as you could remember. His father and yours had been best pals and business patterns before Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha had met their demise in that dark ally when Bruce was just nine. You, on the other hand, were not privy to what he had gone through after your father was mysteriously assassinated while conducting his political campaign as he ran for senator of the state of New Jersey after years as Gotham's mayor. Upon the demise filling both of your lives and that of the people of Gotham, Bruce swore vengeance against all criminals, an oath tempered by a sense of justice for which he trained himself physically and intellectually, all to become Gotham City's guardian and protector. Now, two years into this project of his, which you've been kept in the dark of, you've both lost sight of one another. In hopes of getting closer once more, you invited him for Sunday's lunch. Unbeknown to your doubts, he comes.

Chapter I: The Deal

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

 The air was crispy, and the gravel of the pathway churned under the wheels of his polished, black, vintage sports car. The last days of October had brought nothing but continuous rain and chills of cold air, but to his luck, this Sunday morning was mostly filled with grey clouds littering the sky and a hint of mist in the air. What a better sign that winter would soon be upon Gotham. As he stirred the wheel to direct his car towards the closed gate where beyond laid a mansion too familiar to his liking, all he could think about was why he had accepted your invitation for Sunday’s lunch. Maybe it was because you had practically begged him on the phone or because it wasn’t the first time he had turned you down in a month. Eventually, his guilt over the neglect he was ensuring over your relationship got to him, which prompted him to call you back and accept the invitation. Despite the night of fighting crimes and the darkness lying beyond the shadows the Saturday night before; for the sake of the occasion, he had turned in ‘relatively’ early from his nocturnal schedule to get some sleep before having to drive to Bristol Township, a few miles outside of Gotham City. Still, he would lie if he were not to say that his eyes did sting a bit at the strong light of the day, which he had almost forgotten the feels of as it grazed his skin. Fortunately for him, he always had a pair of sunglasses lying around, even in the car he barely drove.

He cursed your father, at times, for having built your family home so far away, but he knew he never did so in bad faith. It was as if he was still joking with him, like when he was still alive - how they would banter like a father and son would, which they had been for a time. Your father and his had been close friends and business partners when they were both alive. Best pals, they would call each other, so your families had spent a lot of time together. He fondly cherished those memories of his childhood, coming from a time when he remembered what genuine happiness felt like, which had now turned into a ghost of the past. The Sundays spent at the now burned-down Wayne Manor, the lunches, the dinners, the times you two played together, chasing each other around in the gardens until you would fall and scrap your knee and cry bloody murder - but also like how you would not want anyone but him beside you as your mother cleaned your wounds and bandaged those up. How after that you would not let go of his hand, how you would follow him around like a puppy, or a chick following its mother. He supposed it was because you were younger than him and sought out someone your age to help you through the world. But now? He barely saw you, and what he mostly heard from you came from the news, seeing as you had become a relatively known public figure, or your scarce and few phone calls, which he admitted were not few because you didn’t call, but because he barely had the time to answer them. Maybe it was that which had brought him to accept your invitation, and despite how he had been beating himself up for doing so during his ride here, the moment the mansion had come over the horizon and grazed his eyesight, something else too stirred in him.

Longing. Longing for a past that was just that, the past. For a time that would no longer be, one he would never get back because the world had taken it from him. Now the question was….was he willing to let himself back into what he had left behind to become the darkness that fought what lurked in it?

He didn’t have the time to think of an answer to that question, as he pulled the car into its lowest gear, allowing it to stop in front of the gate where a security guard was stationed. When he presses to the window, with a second double-take, seeing him inside, the guard smiles and greets him.

“Welcome, Mr Wayne. They’ve been expecting you” Bruce strains a smile, an unfamiliar sight on his face, as the guard waves him in.

When he parks at the front of the double door of your family home, a valet opens the door for him, who he leaves the keys of his car so he can move it out of the way, before he turns to the door, now open and with a butler he knows all too well, smiling down at him in front of it. “Mr Wayne, how good to see you again” Michal, your mother's butler, had practically raised him to a degree, or so he would think, just as Alfred had done, so the awkward pull he felt made him feel a stir of uneasiness. Could he be normal for a minute? He chastises himself; he doesn’t want people who he had been around all his life to suddenly think he had snubbed up and was too good to be in their presence because of how reserved he had become.

“It’s good to see you too, Michal” The same strained and small smile he gave the guard at the gate is back on his face, this time, less tense than the previous one “Please, please, come in, it’s too cold to be standing around” Michal hushed him inside. Seems like the heater of the house had been turned on, the drastic change of air making him shiver slightly “Let me take your coat” he allowed for it to be pulled from his frame. His dark, rich material suit, which Alfred had forced upon him, made him feel like a stuffed turkey at the Kentucky Derby, but he had allowed it so when Alfred had reprimanded him about keeping appearances, even with people he considered family. As he looked around the familiar environment he had not been in for a long time, he had not noticed the approaching figure beside him. A detective he was, and he could not feel a snooping mother crawling around.

“Oh, Bruce!” Your mother Marcia always had a fondness for him, especially before her son, your brother, was born, and often had coddled him and rinsed him with affection like he had been her own. His mother and yours had shared the same friendship your fathers had; he knew she had been especially heartbroken at the loss of her friend and for her to go through the same thing with her husband, made Bruce deeply feel for her.

“Mrs Estermont” the lines on his often hardened face, softened. The more he stayed here the more he felt himself melting out of his usual cold and unpassed self. His jaw relaxed under the motherly kisses she was bestowing on his stubbled cheeks “Oh, please. Marcia’s fine. No need for formalities, dear” she said. Bruce strained another smile “Marcia then”

Before he could put another word in, your mother was calling for your siblings to come and greet him. “You must see them, they’ve grown so much I’m sure you won’t recognize them,” she said, obviously proud of the two.

Indeed, it was a drastic change to now have a twenty-year-old boy and a nineteen-year-old girl standing in front of him when he mostly remembered them as a seventeen and fifteen-year-old duo. Had time passed so fast? Or maybe it was him losing time…

“Uncle Bruce” your sister’s voice brought him back to the reality now standing in front of him. Elena was the youngest, and now she had grown into a pretty young woman. He remembered her with brown shoulder-length hair, which she now sported Into a black wolf cut, delicately styled and many earrings, too many than he remembered. Your brother was no different; he too had grown his hair, and not only that, as he now stood taller than he had last time, though still not as tall as him.

“You two look good,” he said, his voice lighter than usual “You’ve certainly grown” While your sister gloated at his praise, your brother smiled mischievously “She’s still short” He knew well how this would end if he did not put a stop to it before it was too late. So, before your sister could protest, he said calmly “She will grow, in time” he said “No need to rush, huh?”

Your mother smiled “Bruce is right. No need to rush nature”, she said “Now, off you go and don’t cause any trouble”

He watched as the two scouted off, now just him and your mother again.

“You look pale, and you look thin” she pointed out bluntly but with a hint of underlying concern in her words. He sighed “I’m fine”, then he smiled slightly “Nothing a good lunch cannot cure, am I right?”

Marcia nodded her head, happy with his words “I suppose you’re right. I should be happy you even came. (Y/N) would have killed me had I asked her to ask you another time”

Bruce raised a brow slightly but kept neutral about her words “Had I had the time I would have come” he reassured “I know” she strained a smile “I just worry”

“Of course, you do” reassurance was what your mother needed most now and he wanted to give her as much as he could “And it’s my fault, I should have been around more” he shook his head. He only had himself to blame for the predicament he found himself in. She, in turn, shook her head as well “Nonsense, deary. You’re a grown man now, it’s normal for you to have taken over every responsibility your father once held.”

Bruce wasn’t sure if he would ever tell her that his connection to your family wasn’t the only thing he was neglecting. The stocks of Wayne Enterprises had been plummeting as of late, and he didn’t know how many papers he had to sign in those meetings with his accountants, Alfred forced him to attend, to recover the losses his negligence had been the cause of. And again, once more, there was no one else to blame but himself. He would be lying if he were to say he did not particularly care about keeping the company afloat. He used the funds he got out of it to fund his nightly crusades, making his bat suit, his gadgets, and the construction of his Batcave - all funded by the company his father had built, which he was currently sailing into a slow bankruptcy. He wasn’t sure your mother would take kindly to such revelation when Alfred didn’t, something his butler always reprimanded him for. He only nodded along to your mother’s words, as if in agreement.

“How’s (Y/N)?” He asked. Your mother sighed, a hint of exasperation in it “she’s….as busy as ever” she said “It was as hard to get you to accept your invitation as much as it was to get her out of Gotham to visit me”

Bruce chuckles drily - that sounds like you. “Does she not visit you often?” He asks “less and less these days,” She says, “It’s always an excuse with her. ‘I have a hearing on Tuesday’ or ‘I need to prepare a speech for Friday’”

It was obvious your mother was not pleased with you avoiding coming to visit, even with good reasoning “It’s a wonder I got her here today, and even now, she’s cooped up in her father’s office, working”

That catches him off guard slightly. He looks at her, thrown, to which Marcia catches on quickly “It’s hers now” Bruce didn’t know if he could understand the emotions your mother filled her words with “In his will, he gave it to her” fondness though was surely one of them.  He could see her, spacing in her thoughts slightly “I still cannot get myself to go in there” something significant in his voice as it quieted “I know.” There’s a finality in his words, the underlying understanding between the two deeper than they both realised. He could almost see it atop the staircase in Wayne Tower, the double doors of his parents’ room locked in a thick chain coiled crudely through the handles, a padlock sealing whoever stood in front of them off from whatever was beyond. He shakes the memory out of his mind

“Do you mind if I….?” His voice trails at the end, but the unsaid words were louder than those he spoke “If you want”, the warmth in her voice was almost a reassurance to him “Only if you think you…” She, too, it seems, cannot bring herself to finish her sentence, but Bruce understands what she wants to say more than if she had said it. “Bruce?” Her calling to him stops him in his tracks before he can step into the staircase “Please….talk to her” Bruce's expression falls slightly. He had not willed himself to admit so, but he had been slightly excited to see you again, but the mention of your father's office and your mother’s plea of conversation brought a wave of mixed emotions.

A sense of nostalgia for the memories he had shared with your father in that office, but also a pang of sadness at the absence he now felt. “….I will,” he replied, his voice slightly quieter. The wooden stairs creaked under the weight of his steps, though the sounds were muffled by the carpet covering them. He made his way to the office, his thoughts swirling in his head. He remembered the times he had spent in there with your father, discussing business and politics or just chatting over a glass of expensive bourbon that he probably was too young to drink. Your father had taught him a lot of things, preparing him to become the man he could have become in his father’s stead had things gone.. differently. Those memories now seemed distant and bittersweet, marred by grief and pain. As he reached the door, he raised his hand to knock, but before he could do so, he heard the sound of your voice from inside. Your mother had not told him you were with someone.

He paused, listening to the tone of your voice and the words you were saying, trying to decipher what was going on behind the door. "I don't care what you think, you've never taken this seriously" your voice was strained and serious "I will not take the fallout of the consequences of your actions coming to bite back at you” Though he knew it was wrong of him, he pushed towards the door to listen in. "you don't understand, you've got to help me out" he didn't know this other voice "I...I didn't kno-“ "you think i should throw myself at your feet to help you out after you lost me half of my father's assets to my uncle?" you asked, "for the sake of you?" you asked almost incredulous. He could almost sense it, the anger and disappointment in your voice, but also a hint of resignation.

“I didn’t know what I wanted” the other woman’s voice was now quiet and closed in “only what was expected of me” "You think I care?" you asked "You've helped your husband ruin my life, content yourself with that, aunt” His brows picked at the dressing of the woman, the realization of what he was listening in dawning on him . He could hear the deep sigh you let out "I'm part of the City Council now, I cannot just go around and get involved in marital spats" Bruce's ears perked up at the mention of you being part of the City Council. He felt a pang of guilt at missing out on this important development in your life which he had learned from the news on the TV. But it also filled him with pride. He always knew you had the potential to make a real difference in Gotham….like your father.

The room went quiet for a moment before the hushed conversation continued "I'll see what I can do", you said quietly, "but I cannot make any promises and remember, you’ll owe me for this” The tension in the room seemed to lessen, and he could almost feel so even from the outside. After a few moments, the sound of footsteps approached the door. Bruce instinctively let go of the doorknob, walking a few steps back as if he had just arrived, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. The door opened, revealing your aunt, who appeared relieved yet sombre. Mascara ran down he slashes, a clear sign of her previous distress, and her hair had become slightly untamed. The fried end caused by the bleach in her hair was seriously not helping her in making her look better. She caught a glimpse of Bruce, surprised by his presence, but quickly composed herself and gave him a thin smile. "Bruce....how you've grown," she said quietly. He nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes darting briefly to your office before looking back at your aunt. "Ms. Estermont" he greeted her, his voice calm and polite. He couldn't help but wonder what had just transpired between you two. “Bruce?” Your voice called from within, a hint of surprise and perhaps, he wanted to believe, excitement. Your aunt seemed to sober “I’ll go” she said “it was nice seeing you again, Bruce” Bruce gave her a polit nod of acknowledgement, moving aside, watching as she walked away, his thoughts still on the conversation he had overheard. As soon as she was gone, he turned his gaze back towards your office, his heart pounding slightly in his chest.

Sitting down in the same chair your father used to sit in, you cut his very image. The dark leather almost engulfs your frame in it. Bruce took in the sight, of you sitting in the very same chair your father had once occupied, a pang of nostalgia mixed with sorrow filling his heart. You looked so much like him, with the same intense gaze and determination etched on your features. The image of you, so reminiscent of your father, tugged at his heartstrings. He had always been fond of your father, who had been a mentor and a friend to him. Seeing you now, taking up the reigns and sitting in his chair, was a bittersweet reminder of the past.

"Bruce" you smiled "Come in,come in"Bruce hesitantly stepped into the office, his eyes locked on your smile. He tried to push aside the guilt he felt for overhearing your conversation, replaced by the warm feeling he always got when you smiled at him. He will not mention what he had heard, he had decided. 

"I'm glad you could make it" you said "i don't think I could go another month without seeing you” His heart skipped a beat at your words. It warmed him to know that you missed him just as much as he had missed you in these past months. "It's good to see you too" he replied, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. "two months,huh?" you asked "we saw each other last in August, it's October now” Bruce nodded in agreement, realizing just how much time had passed since the last time he had seen you. "Yeah..." he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "Life just seemed to get busier and busier." It was the excuse he had been telling himself for the past few months, but deep down, he knew he had been avoiding you, trying to hide his alter ego from you. "I'm sure you are, now more than ever,no?"

His heart skipped a bit at your words. What did you know? Have you figured it out? Is that why you had asked him here? Was this all a ploy-

“I mean, I heard about your stocks plummeting, I’m sure you’ve been busier than ever with the company” You finished your sentence and he mentally beat himself up for what thoughts he just had. Even if you had figured it out, why was he suddenly thinking of an escape plan? You were his childhood best friend…the last thing you would do is turn in him to the authorities.

“Yeah…” he fidgeted slightly with his hands, his heart still racing from the spiral he had gone through. You smiled "I'm just glad you accepted my invite," you said "I've missed you, and....I've been worried” Bruce's heart squeezed at your words. He could hear the worry in your voice and could see it in your eyes. He knew he had been distant, and he felt guilty for making you worry. "I've missed you too," he said quietly, taking a few steps closer to your desk. "please, sit" you said, "make yourself at home, it is, after all, no?" With the many times he had spent in this house, his name might as well be on the lease.  He settled into the chair, allowing himself to feel at ease in your presence. As he sat there, he realised just how much he had missed being in your company. The soft lighting in your office, the familiar scent of old books mixed with the faint smell of your perfume, the tickling of the old cloak. It all brought back a wave of nostalgic memories.

"you haven't changed anything, I see," he said, his voice as always never above a murmur "I couldn't bring myself to," you said "It feels like, he's still here even after all those years, watching over me as I took in his steps”

Bruce's heart ached at your words. He could hear the hint of sadness and nostalgia in your voice, the pain of your father's absence still fresh in your mind. "He would be proud of you, you know that right?" he said gently, his gaze fixed on you. "I'd like to think so too," you said "but I still have a long way before I feel like I've reached the point where he would tell me that” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the edge of your desk. "You're being too hard on yourself," he said, his voice soft but earnest. "From what I've seen, you've already accomplished so much.” The truth in his words was so that you could not dispute them "You're on the City Council now" he added, a note of admiration in his voice. "You're making a real difference in Gotham. Your father would be absolutely proud of you, just like I am.”

"you've heard?" you asked with joy “I entered in September when the session began but I will be sworn in in January, I participate how I can for now, but I’m planning on building a coalition”

“that seems like a plan” he said “"You should feel proud. Not just anyone can be on the City Council. It's impressive, really”

You scoffed “It's certainly a job when you're opposing people like Mitchell and his second-in-command Tomlin,” you said, slumping slightly in the chair, that was almost too big for you ", especially with the upcoming elections. Oh, god, help me so, if he puts forward another motion to discuss to take away from Reál's rising numbers”

Bruce listened intently, noticing the exhaustion in your tone. The mention of upcoming elections and Mitchell's continuous attempts to undermine Reál's progress was concerning. "Don't let him wear you down," he said, his voice firm and supportive. "You're smarter and more capable than he is. You just need to stay focused and strategic.”

"easy for you to say when you don't have to deal with him almost every day" you retorted "god, I hope he loses so I won't have to deal with him”

“That’s one way to see it” he said with a hilt of his mouth “The better way. I need him out of my hair” you pointed

you turned your wrist to look at the time"Lunch is in about an hour" you said "can I offer you anything? Coffe? Wine?” To which he shook his head “I’m fine” “Oh, come on, Bruce. You can ask for anything,” you said “Don’t be shy” He watched as you stood to walk to the cabinet your father kept his ‘indulgences’, as he used to call them. “Alright, fine” he relented “cup of wine, red”

The cup in his hand felt heavy even when it wasn’t filled even halfway, the cristal shone in the light coming through the heavy curtains “Come with me?” he raised a brow at your question and only then did he notice you had reached in a drawer for the pack of cigarettes now in your hands.  He hadn't expected you to have cigarettes hidden in your office, especially considering how strongly you had opposed your father's smoking habit in the past. His gaze flickered between the pack and your face, wondering if this was just a one-time thing or if you had developed a habit yourself. Perceptive as ever, you took his silent question as your eyes locked “I always told him those would kill him” you fiddled with the packet “In the end he did die…just not from them”

The reference to your father's passing brings a pang of empathy to his chest. He remembered the countless times you had scolded your father, trying to discourage him from smoking. He could hear the resignation in your voice now, accepting the fact that your father's death hadn't been caused by cigarettes but by something else altogether. “Were those his?” He asked “yes” you paused “Now they’re mine” He knew the consequences of smoking all too well, and the thought of you giving in to that habit both concerned and frustrated him. “….I’ll come with you” he said, his voice betraying a hint of resignation and reluctance as he stood from the chair

“Jesus Christ, is it cold” you said once you were both walking in the back of the house, the gravel shifting as you walked along the path. You two were both covered in your coats and yet it seemed the weather was getting the better of you two. Bruce shivered slightly as the cold air hit him. He wrapped his coat tighter around his body, a contrast to the warm feeling he usually felt with you. "Yeah, it's freezing" he agreed, his breath visible in the cold air. He sipped at his cup, hoping for the wine to warm him slightly.

He watched as you placed the cigarette between your lips, the familiar taste of tobacco filling your mouth, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He knew how much you had fought with your father about his smoking habits, and now here he was, watching you indulge in this killer of a drug. Once lit, you took a long drag, feeling the nicotine fill your lungs. The harshness of the smoke stung your throat, but you welcomed the familiar sensation. Once exhaled, the smoke dispersed into the cold air, creating a cloud around you two. “I didn’t know you smoked” he pointed “You never told me when you called”

“I don’t” you said “This…is a once in-blue moon kind of thing” “It’s still a thing” he pointed out “Please, Bruce, spare me your cloak of self-righteousness” you huffed “Your objectivity over what I do died the day you pulled away from me” your words were biting…..but they were not untrue. He winced slightly, wanting to rebuff but the words died right on the tip of his tongue “I’m sorry” is all he could master “It’s fine” you reassured “We’re not children anymore….we cannot spend every waking moment together. I understand that”

“Still” he protested “I feel like I’ve abandoned you in a way”

You exhaled your previous drag “You can make it up to me”

He raised a brow “How?” Curiosity waned at him, awaiting your response and suggestion

You smiled with an underline of mischievousness “How about lunch?” You asked, “I’m free next Thursday”

Of course, his first response was to run away and tell you no. Could he commit again to something that wasn’t his vigilante work? But you…you weren’t just someone, you were his friend, his constant and comfort, who had been with him through thick and thin. He couldn’t just ditch you as he had in the past year after his activities had picked up after he had befriended Gordon and the signal was put into place. His grip on the glass of his cup tightened slightly. He pondered your offer for a moment, his mind racing to find an excuse. "I appreciate the offer," he said, his voice laced with a hint of hesitation. God, he hated this, he hated that he couldn't be honest with you about everything. He nodded against his best interest “Thursday then”

He only hoped he would not regret this.

A/N: I will make a master list soon, if anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, please comment so. This is written with in mind The Batman (2022) and The Penguin (2024), so spoilers ahead. The first few chapters take place before the events of the movie.I tried to get Matt Reeves' characterization of him as best as I could. I absolutely love that we got an inexperienced, wet, always on the verge of tears, Bruce. He's so hot.

[chelseaknoo]

Hey! So, imagine it’s the 2000s, and Eminem has this huge crush on a super-famous pop singer. In an interview, the interviewer asks his opinion on her, and he openly admits that he finds her attractive, which gets everyone talking. Then, they end up collaborating on a song together, and the music video they make is super hot. Fans completely lose it because they can totally tell there’s something going on between them!

2000s Eminem x pop singer! Reader

Caution:sexual content <3

During an interview, Eminem was asked about the up-and-coming pop singer Y/N, and he didn’t hold back his admiration. “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music,” he said, a slight smile hinting at something more. For a while now, Eminem had found himself drawn to her—her beauty was undeniable, but it was her warm, genuine personality that truly captivated him.

Though he’s known for his tough, edgy persona, Eminem couldn’t help but soften when he spoke about her. Y/N was different from anyone he’d encountered in the industry. Her presence was refreshing, a mix of talent and kindness that seemed to come naturally to her. He’d been following her rise to fame, noticing the way her fans adored her and the way her music connected with people. Eminem couldn’t deny it—he was crushing on her, and the thought of a collaboration had even crossed his mind more than once. Little did he know, his candid words in the interview would spark rumors and excitement among fans who couldn’t wait to see what might happen between the rapper and the rising pop star.

When you found out about what Eminem had said about you during the interview, you were completely taken aback. At first, it didn’t seem real—it was hard to process that someone as big as him would openly talk about you like that. The words played over and over in your head: “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music.”

You were shocked, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through you. It was flattering, sure, but also a little overwhelming. You’d always admired Eminem’s music, his talent, and his larger-than-life persona, but the idea that he had noticed you, let alone had a genuine crush, sent your heart racing.

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered. His words were unexpected, and the attention was something you weren’t quite used to, especially coming from a major artist like him. You thought about it all day, the weight of his comment sinking in. Was he just being polite, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, it definitely left you with more questions than answers.

A week later, you received a message from none other than Eminem himself. He reached out to ask if you’d be interested in collaborating on a song. The moment you read his message, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't believe it—Eminem, the legendary rapper you had admired for so long, was asking to work with you.

Without hesitation, you excitedly agreed. You had no doubts, no second thoughts. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and the idea of working with him, especially after everything that had happened with the interview, sent a rush of excitement through you.

You immediately replied, expressing how thrilled you were at the prospect of collaborating with him. The thought of creating something together felt surreal, and you couldn’t wait to dive into the creative process. You knew this was going to be huge—not just for your career, but for you personally.

Our teams met to discuss the creative direction of the collaboration, and the conversation quickly took an intriguing turn. They proposed making the song sensual and centered around the complexities of a relationship—intense, passionate, and unapologetically raw. As they laid out the concept, I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but blush at the idea.

The thought of creating something so intimate, especially with him, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. It would be a bold step, a departure from anything I’d done before, and the prospect of exploring that kind of connection through music was electrifying. I glanced over at him as the conversation unfolded, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed—confident, even—his expression suggesting he was more than ready to dive into the challenge.

After finishing the recording sessions for the song, the next step was to film the highly-anticipated music video. The energy on set was electric, a mix of excitement and nerves hanging in the air. You sat in front of the mirror, makeup artists diligently working to perfect your look. Brushes moved with precision, adding the final touches of shimmer to your eyes and gloss to your lips. The anticipation built with every passing second, and you could feel your heart pounding just a bit faster.

You adjusted the robe draped around you, its fabric soft against your skin. Beneath it, you wore delicate, lacy black lingerie chosen specifically for the shoot—a bold move, but one that fit the sensual vibe of the song. It felt both empowering and a little nerve-wracking to know what was coming next.

One of the makeup artists stepped back, admiring her work. “You look stunning,” she said with a smile, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” you replied, managing a small smile in return. “I just hope I don’t trip over this robe or something,” you joked, trying to shake off the nerves.

The door to the dressing room opened, and he walked in. Eminem, in all his calm, cool confidence, took a quick glance around before his eyes landed on you. There was a spark of something in his gaze—approval, maybe even a hint of surprise. “You ready for this?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

You nodded, tightening the belt of the robe instinctively. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear. “It’s gonna be fire. Just do your thing.”

His words sent a jolt of confidence through you. “You too,” you replied, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before he turned and walked out. The weight of the moment sank in. This video was going to be unforgettable, and you were ready to give it everything you had.

You took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror, taking one last glance at yourself in the lingerie before slowly sliding the robe off your shoulders. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but the heat of anticipation made you feel warm all over. With one final look at your reflection, you stepped toward the door, ready to face what was ahead.

As you opened the door and stepped out, you found Marshall already waiting for you. He was sitting on the bed, his shirt off, his toned chest and arms on full display. His tattoos, which you had noticed before but never fully admired, seemed to tell stories with their intricate designs, each one adding to his raw, unapologetic energy. The way the tattoos stretched over his muscles caught your attention for a moment, and you couldn't help but admire the way he looked.

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable at first, but as his eyes traveled over you, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and almost hushed.

You smiled, sitting down beside him on the soft bed, the sheets rustling under you as you settled into place. The room was charged with an electric tension, and the crew started setting up the cameras, ensuring everything was in place for the shoot. The anticipation in the room grew as you waited, a sense of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you.

Once everything was ready, the cameras began rolling. Without missing a beat, Marshall started rapping, his words flowing effortlessly as he moved closer to you. He didn’t need a microphone—the raw power of his voice was enough to fill the room, his lyrics sharp and intense. As he rapped, he reached out and pulled you closer, his hands confidently guiding your exposed body toward him. The camera captured every movement, every kiss, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body as if the song was meant for this exact moment.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat rise between you. His lips moved with yours in perfect sync as the music played on, his touch both tender and commanding. His body pressed against yours, his rhythm matching the intensity of the song, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the moment. The cameras captured it all—every kiss, every touch, every second of undeniable chemistry.

The atmosphere in the room was palpable, the energy of the shoot merging with the passion of the music. As Marshall continued rapping, you couldn’t help but be swept up in the power of the moment, your body responding to his, and the song taking on a life of its own.

His hands moved lower, tracing the line of your body as the music echoed through the room. The entire world outside the set seemed to fade away as you both got lost in the moment, the only thing that mattered being the connection between you and the music.

You brung your soft manicured hands up to your soft breasts engulfed by a lacy bra and squeezed them to appear more sexier to the camera as Marshall flipped off the camera.

This would most definitely be the thumbnail for the video.

The director called "cut," signaling the end of the scene. You and Marshall both took a step back, the intensity of the moment slowly dissipating as the crew moved in to adjust equipment and set up for the next shot. You exchanged a quiet smile before heading to your designated room to relax for a bit.

After a few hours, you wrapped up your recording, feeling a mix of accomplishment and exhaustion. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in your veins, but now you were looking forward to some downtime. You changed out of your wardrobe, slipping into something more comfortable, and made your way outside to your car.

Just as you reached the door of your vehicle, you heard someone call your name from behind. You turned to see Marshall walking toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, I was wondering... would you want to grab a drink sometime? Maybe go out... on a date?"

The question caught you off guard, but in the best possible way. His voice had a casual tone, but you could sense there was something genuine beneath it. You paused for a moment, taking in the sincerity of his expression, then smiled back at him.

"A date, huh?" you replied, teasing him slightly. "Are you asking me out, Marshall Mathers?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, we’ve spent all this time together on set, and I think you're pretty cool. It’d be nice to get to know you outside of all this craziness."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his words settling comfortably in your chest. It felt like a simple question, but in that moment, it carried a weight that made everything feel real.

"Alright," you said with a smile, feeling the excitement rise in your chest. "I’d like that."

Marshall grinned, clearly pleased with your answer. "Great," he said. "I’ll text you the details. We’ll figure something out."

As you got into your car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Something had shifted between you two, and this date felt like the beginning of something new—something that, at the very least, would be interesting to explore.

When the music video dropped, it immediately sent shockwaves through the entertainment world. The buzz was undeniable, and the media couldn't get enough of it. News outlets were abuzz with headlines discussing the video, focusing on the undeniable chemistry between you and Marshall. The press quickly latched onto the idea that there was more than just a professional collaboration between the two of you. Everyone seemed to think that what they saw on screen was more than just a performance.

Magazines, tabloids, and news articles were all over the story. Some claimed the chemistry between you two was off the charts, while others speculated about a potential romance, pointing to the way your bodies intertwined during the video and the flirtatious energy that seemed to linger between every take. The media was fascinated, and the public couldn't stop talking about it. Fans and critics alike were all over the speculation, analyzing every glance, every touch, and every word exchanged between you both on screen.

Interviews with both you and Marshall quickly followed. Journalists from all over lined up to ask about the video, the song, and, of course, the undeniable tension between the two of you. Everyone wanted to know if it was real—if what they saw in the video was an accurate reflection of what was going on behind the scenes. And while you both kept things light and playful, the questions kept coming, making it nearly impossible to escape the growing rumors.

The attention, both positive and negative, was overwhelming. The video had clearly left a mark, one that many believed was the beginning of something far deeper than just a professional relationship. Whether you were together or not, the world seemed to be entranced by the idea of the two of you.

And of course we decided to keep the people guessing <3

[gatitties]

Can you do a strawhats with a hyper feminine crewmate and take ur time i love ir writings

─Strawhats x reader

─Summary: You stand out for your features and actions, being hyperfeminine.

─Warnings: none

─ You are the envy of every person who wants to look feminine and you are not even trying.

─ Nami adores you, she asks you about your skin routine and about all the care you do to have your skin so soft, your hair so silky… she needs to know your secret to looking so attractive!

─ Honestly, the most likely thing is that Nami, Robin and Sanji are the only ones who notice your very feminine features and charms, the rest of the crew does not usually pay so much attention to how a person looks or at least they do not give it as much importance.

─ Brook may occasionally ask you something about how to keep your hair as beautiful, fluffy, straight, braided… it doesn't matter how you style it, how you have it, even if it's wigs you wear, they need certain maintenance to make you look beautiful.

─ Perhaps Chopper and Usopp pay more attention to your melodious voice that also stands out instead of the physicality, being a caress to their ears, your tone makes them calm down a little when they are being threatened.

─ Zoro doesn't usually notice people to that level, however, your fighting style is completely something he will notice, although your combat technique can be improved, the movements are done with such grace and elegance that he can stay for hours staring at you.

─ Luffy sometimes compares you to a doll, your skin seems to have no imperfections, at least not to him, you wear pretty clothes that highlight your figure, although that doesn't interest him too much, Luffy just needs you to smell good, and he loves that shampoo you use!

─ Don't let him find it, he will try to eat it.

─ Jinbe thinks that it's admirable to survive having so much elegance with a crew like this, the easiest comparison is at luch time, on one side his captain eating with his hands (if he could he would eat with his feet too) like an animal and on the other hand on the other side you, gently chewing your food cut into small pieces.

─ Franky is fascinated by your figure, without a doubt he is not a stylist, but if he can he will go shopping with you just because he enjoys seeing how the different outfits look on you, although in his eyes everything will look good on you no matter what.

─ They don't really give it that much importance, but each one appreciates every little aspect of your feminine traits in their own way,but no matter how you look or act, if you are part of the crew they will always adore you.

[pleasured-ambrosia]

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t have time for your snark.

It’s different when he throws a sassy remark. He’s the boss, who has to cope with babysitting hundreds of Spider-people in order to keep the multiverse in check.

So when you do mouth off, Miguel like to find other ways to occupy your mouth.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes you onto your knees, grasping your chin with his meaty hand. You feign a pout as you gaze up at him, but Miguel can see the lust clouding your vision. Maybe this is why you’re such a snarky little shit—because you hope for Miguel to notice you.

“Open,” he commands.

Wordlessly, you open your mouth. Already hard, Miguel’s cock twitches as he stares into your mouth. Fuck, you’re so good for him when you’re on your knees.

The patch of his suit that surrounds his cock evaporates, a special alteration that Miguel designed just for his time with you. His hardened cock looms over your face, twitching at the feeling of your hot breath.

“Now suck.”

Your plump lips wrap around his tip, your tongue darting across the underside of his shaft. Fuck, he forgot how warm your mouth is. It had been too long since he had you like this, obedient and eager.

Miguel places his hand atop your head, tugging you closer.

“Shhh, mí amor, breathe through your nose,” Miguel coos as you stifle a gag. “Good, that’s it. Take all of it. Nice and slow.”

Even as his cock stretches your mouth to its limits, as it bulges in your throat, you force the last of his shaft into your mouth. As your nose hits Miguel’s pubic bone, he tilts your head up with a smug grin.

“You look much nicer when your mouth’s busy with my cock instead of running your mouth, princesa.”

[ninesparrowsoftroy]

To Snakes and Stone | Ominis Gaunt | 2.8k | Part I | Part II

Summary: In which Ominis is persuaded to open the Scriptorium for his closest friend and in doing so is faced with the horrors of his childhood.

Things to note prior to proceeding: this is meant to be a very short series. It is an x reader, however it is a slower romance and is more an exploration into the mind of Ominis. That being said, there is no distinction of the reader’s name, they are purely referred too as ‘the girl’ and ‘she/her’ to create an open and interpretive character in the story. Read the tags!

Water dripped from above, the melodic thrum of each droplet collapsing against the stone floor a reminder of the labyrinthine school above. There were classrooms, cabinets, tile floors and spiral staircases, students who were all but ignorant of the damp, barren halls hidden beneath their feet. Hogwarts, he knew, held many secrets in his walls but this had been one he’d hoped to never discover. It might have been easier for him if he were to let it remain a whisper amongst his family, a mystery better left unsolved no matter how much grief grasped at it. From somewhere in between the cracks of the carved out walls a draft drifted into the space, cold and unyielding in its frost kissed touch.

The farther they descended down this spiral of riddles and shifting stone the colder it became, the slow drop in temperature something that Ominis took a keen notice too. Unlike the common room of his house, this was a cold that pinched at his skin, a needle being poked in his skin in sporadic and uncontrolled speeds. Sometimes it would attack him at once, prickling the exposed skin of his neck causing him to flinch away from it. Other times it crawled over him at an unnoticeable pace, the volume of an orchestra growing in strength and in power until it drowns out all other sound and feeling in the room.

‘Over here,’ Sebastian’s voice strung itself in the air, drowned with the same curious excitement that led him to places Ominis preferred to keep distant from. The freckled boy wasn’t far but he surely wasn’t any closer than he had been prior, ‘I think I’ve found something.’

The cacophony of footsteps that followed Sebastians voice carried itself in the cold air, bouncing off the narrow walls and the distributing the small puddles that had formed in dents in the floor. The familiar pull of his wand enveloped his arm, faint yet forceful enough to direct and bring him to place a few steps away from where Sebastian stood. The trail of footsteps moved past Ominis, continuing on till the sound of them stopped on the other side of the boy. Though there was little change in the physical world around him, there was a discomforting heaviness to the new area, a pressure resting itself on his chest and weighing like lead over his sternum. It felt suffocating, tighter even. Ominis brought his hand to his side, the pulse of the pine-wood wand growing softer as it lay idle against within his hold.

Unlike the walls enclosing them into the chamber, this one resembled an arched stained-glass window, like the ones in the Great Hall only carved into the physical stone. There was no figurehead in the center nor portrait of a dark witch or wizard to free them, only a coiled snake sitting in on itself, watching with a lifeless scrutiny.

‘What is it?’

‘A wall.’

‘Very helpful, Sebastian.’

‘No, he’s serious,’ Her voice came in a sudden wave. It shared the curiosity that consumed Sebastian’s but within the limits of reason which he quite liked. Yet it was far more volatile than his or Sebastian’s: wind that would swell in anger and destroy even the soundest of structures, yet capable of embracing and breathing life even into the lifeless. Her voice grew clearer as he assumed she turned her gaze to him, ‘there are markings all over it. Ancient runes I think but I can’t be sure, and there’s also-.’

‘A snake.’ Sebastian interjected, kneeling down to run his palm against the stone-scales.

‘Yes, there’s also a snake.’

The brunet gave little regard to her glare, ’Do you suppose it’s another door?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Ominis do you hear anything?’

All attention was then turned to the blond, an expectant and anticipatory weight coming over him at the question. His lips thinned out, a distasteful dryness filling his mouth. Harmless though the question was, there was no denying nor avoiding the bitter pit it stirred in his stomach. He could feel them watching him, waiting for him to become the bridge that was so sorely necessary to continue on their path. He hated it, truly, he did.

‘No. I don’t hear anything, why would I?’

‘It’s a snake statue.’

‘So?’

The response seemed enough to abandon Sebastian’s attention, the freckled boy turning back to the stone carvings with a reverberating hum. Thoughtful, albeit challenged.

‘Could a charm unlock it?’

‘Depends on the charm.’

‘An unlocking one?’

‘You need a lock to use an unlocking charm Sebastian.’

‘A revealing one then.’

‘I doubt Salazar Slytherin would have made it that easy.’ Ominis pointed, a frown painted over his features.

A breath of silence fell over them. No ideas spared, and any attempt at proposing another solution being dissolved before it even had a chance to be uttered. Any idea was quickly thrown and deemed too easy or too juvenile. Blasting the wall with an impact spell? A brute display of force that very well might bring down the ceiling with the wall. Attempting an opening or unlocking charm? There was little guarantee the wall truly was a door, and if so there were no latches or locks to cast upon.

‘Perhaps we’ve missed something.’ The heel of her boot dug mistakenly into the puddle beneath her, the reflection of dripping stone disrupted and distorted by her unknowing assault. Her once confident steps found a quick, desperate succession of lost balance. The body betraying its equilibrium while gravity grasped desperately at it, beckoning its violent descent to the floor. Her palm skittered over the wall, flesh opening against broken stone.

The hiss that followed her was not her own; not to Ominis. What had been a hiss of pain fleeing from her lips had morphed into one of a crueler pitch. It shook in the air, vibrating until it no longer resembled her voice but something deafening, serpentine, consuming him from every corner of the room. He could feel it moving beneath his fingers, thrumming deep within his ears, syllables woven together in a whistled breath.

‘Dirty.’ The sound drummed from somewhere within his bones, burrowing into the cartilage as it were part of him. ‘Filthy.’ The word was serrated in the air, sharper than any curse that could be uttered. ‘Tainted.’ Each syllable biting into him, piercing and blanketing all at once, a vicious embrace.

‘Bloody hell, are you all right?’

Everything grew quiet, Sebastian’s voice crushingly sharp in the absence of noise. Somewhere in front of Ominis another droplet of water fell from a crack between the ceiling, colliding against the toe of his shoe.

‘I’m fine, I just lost my balance.’

‘And cut open your hand.’

‘It’s not anything serious.’

A scoff left Sebastian, ‘Your definition of serious is far different than mine if that’s the case.’

‘Really it’s nothing—‘

‘It’s blood.’

Both eyed turned to him. Sebastian spoke first.

‘Yes Ominis, oddly enough that’s what’s underneath your skin when you get cut.’

‘No, you idiot; blood is the answer to the wall.’

‘What?’

‘How do you know?’

‘I heard it.’

‘So you did hear something! Honestly I’m hurt you’d lie to me Ominis.’

‘I was not. I only heard something when she cut her hand.’

The remark on Sebastian’s lip was quickly cut before he could even sound out the first syllable.

‘What did it say?’

The conviction in her voice stopped him.

The words, though cruel, were not his own, so why was it so difficult to repeat them? It was well known that Salazar was a blood purist, the answer very well should have been obvious the moment they came before the wall. Yet it felt discomforting, standing there, knowing the objective answer to their question but being unwilling and unable to translate it. How could he do it without feeling as if it were his thoughts and his words? He was, after all, a boy with centuries of cruelty and prejudice threaded into the marrow of his bones, opinions that had been passed from generation to generation that became the spoken truth the moment he learned to speak. Of the three of them standing in that cold, damp chamber it would be him who would come to these sort of answers and it stirred something rancid in his stomach.

‘Ominis?’

He failed to realize just how long he had been silent. In his hand his wand gave a small pulse, its faint pressure reminding him of the girl sitting in front of him.

‘If I’m right,’ He began, trepidation lining his words, ‘the wall is only accessed through blood.’

‘Should be simple enough, she’s already bleeding so we can just—‘

‘No. It doesn’t work like that.’

It came out harsher than he had intended, instinct and habit possessing his tongue as the remark spilled past any barrier of hesitancy. They were all incisive enough to know what he was saying, the truth lingering in the space between the words. He hadn’t any need to physically see them to know the slow fall of ignorance from their faces. How any form of Sebastians reckless curiosity or her own intrigue vanished beneath the stoicism of cold realization. Ominis sighed.

‘It has to be someone with pure blood.’

‘Someone like you.’

He attempted to shield the wince that overcame him at the sudden force of her voice, the way it wrapped around him and struck like a knife between his shoulder blades. Someone like him, who came from a line of “purified and noble” wizards, whose every breath came from an intricate tapestry of breeding.

‘Someone like me.’ He repeated back to her, something in his voice far more distant than it had been before.

Sebastian stood, his hand finding purchase on Ominis’ tense one, the touch startling yet not wholly unfamiliar. It was the one that Sebastian had often used when attempting to persuade the blond into some unruly excursion or to lighten the circumstance when he received a rather harrowing and cryptic letter from his parents. The hold firm, grounding, telling Ominis that there was someone there beyond the dark, yet light enough to be recoiled back at a moment’s notice. He could hear the glint of a dangerous smile in Sebastian’s voice.

‘Shouldn’t be too bad Ominis. At least now you can finally prove you’re one of a kind.’

Despite it all, he rolled his eyes, secretly grateful for the normalcy of the joke.

‘I’m already one of a kind.’

‘I’d save that attitude for the wall, let it speak for you.’

There was no faltering the slight etch of a curve on his lip at the conversation, a fleeting blanket of escape falling over him before being ripped away. Sebastian’s hand slipped off his shoulder, the faint clicks of feet ebbing their way back giving him enough of an incentive to know it was entirely left to him. Like the flicker of heat licking at the bare skin of an arm or leg from a flame, Ominis had the short instinct to refuse, to step back and turn on his heel, demanding they leave and never turn back. He’d shut the scriptorium door and return to his dormitory as if nothing had happened and the floors and walls of Hogwarts were just as they were before: familiar and well-known.

But then he thought of his Aunt. The warm memory of who she had been in his idolized and child-like mind. The soft melody of her voice as she described to him the color of the tree in the manor garden, the twisted branches of a nearby shrub, the way his own hair resembled the cold-light of the moon as it hung itself in the dark sky, shining despite all its darkness. How she had been the first person to find him, curled on the tile floor of the manor corridor, his skin still prickling with an invisible agony he couldn’t scratch away. The brush of her fingertips over his wrist as she pried his hands away from his body, palms and fingertips shaded a violent crimson from where he’d held his hands before him as the curse crackled and hurtled itself to him.

What it had felt like when she no longer appeared in the garden, how silent and colorless the world had become as the elm tree lost its leaves and the shrubs withered. Loneliness, he discovered in the cold halls of his home, was the one color she had failed to teach him.

Ominis brought the tip of his wand to his left palm, holding it just barely below his knuckle.

‘Diffindo.’ He whispered, the pine-wood of his wand cracking as the pressure morphed into something sharper. The pain grew more refined as he slid it against his hand, the feel of skin tearing from skin, peeling away layer after layer until the warmth of his blood began to seep from the cut and into the creases of his palm. His fingers curled inward, an inherent motion to staunch the bleeding even though it had been his own hand that had caused it. When the line had been drawn from one end of his hand to the other his wand withdrew its force, the sting morphing into something weightless and familiar.

His features settled into a dark resignation, the wall offering nothing but a frigid greeting to his approach. From somewhere deep within the stone a guttural sound pulled itself towards his hand, the press of his touch sparking a wave of noise that drummed in his ear. There came a hiss, coiling and spreading through air around him until he could feel it thrumming beneath his hand and feet. Then, as blood dripped and stained the stone of the wall, the chiseled scales under his fingers began to move. A sickening groan moved through the room as the once lifeless and graven snake crackled to life, stone scratching against stone with each coil of its body.

His hand long since retreated to his side by the time he stepped back, the room opening as the snake stretched its carved body. The floor trembled beneath them all, the arch of the wall splintering, concaving onto itself as it drew back, revealing the short, lightless corridor that lay behind it. The stone settled, a haunting quiet falling over the trio, the only sound remaining being the sporadic fall of blood dripping from Ominis’ hand.

‘I suppose the flair for dramatics is hereditary.’ Sebastian mused, warranting only a disgruntled groan from the blond and an even poorer effort of shielding her laugh behind a sound of disapproval from the girl.

‘Christ, Sebastian, don’t you have any semblance of etiquette in that thick head of yours?’

‘What? It’s not like I’m wrong.’

‘I make no comment.’ Ominis mumbled in turn, although his words always came off more enunciated even in a mumble.

He could hear Sebastian take a step forward, but before he could bring himself to follow suit he felt a tug at his sleeve. Something gentle but firm, his brows scrunching together as instinct brought him to turn towards what had grabbed at him. In a moment of muffled panic he had imagined it to be the snake statue, reaching out from its carved out frame and lurching towards him. But then he felt the warmth of skin pressing against his wrist, pulling his hand up from his side and out to the empty space in front of him.

There was a faint shifting of fabric, then the cold touch of wood against the damp center of his bloodied palm. He heard her voice, brought to a whisper with the movement of her wand. Where the cut had torn through his flesh, opening up the hot blood beneath it, there was now nothing but a numbing warmth, like when heat dances towards the skin of those sat before a fireplace. She let go of his hand.

‘There,’ Again he could hear the smile in her voice, the slight curve of the syllables, ‘Now we’ll have matching scars.’

‘It wasn’t deep enough to scar.’

Not that he would care if it had, it wouldn’t make much difference to him other than the feeling of it.

‘That’s not the point.’ The sound of fabric rustling came again as she tucked her wand into her pocket.

And before he had the chance to ask what her point truly was, she was gone, walking in a steady beat down the corridor where Sebastian’s voice grew starker with each step he took. Ominis ran a thumb over the healed skin, perfectly an incandescently smooth just as it had been. He took a breath, dropping both hands.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out the familiar shape of his wand, allowing its pull to wrap around his wrist and bring him forward, towards the shadowed hall. Ahead of him Sebastian and the girl moved in quick succession, their steps all at war with each other: Sebastian’s confident ones, the girls firm ones, and Ominis’ own.

I have given no permission for my writing to be uploaded anywhere beyond where I upload it, please do not copy or plagiarize this work. <3

[dwindlinghaze]

｡･:*˚:✧｡

remus lupin x girly!reader head canons

contents : just fluff !

a/n : this is absolutely self indulgent but we need to create more readers that are girly and feminine and loves wearing dresses and pink stuff so yeah.... here i am for all of the girl's girl out there!!!

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

first of all- he would love your style and preferences so much!

he would pick and chose your outfits to wear when you guys are hanging out !!!!

"is this a new cardigan?" "it is! do you like it?" "when have i not like a thing you like"

he truly believes that girls and women can be powerful in dresses and ribbons. you don't have to wear a suit or be manly to have control. embracing what you truly are is the most valuable thing anyone could ever do.

he loves your hair and the way you style it; sometimes in a half up half down with a ribbon tying it in place. or clipping them on the side of your head so your front hairs don't cover up your vision. he adores it when you wear headbands (although it hurts sometimes for me :()because you look so soft and feminine and pretty <3

jewelry. omg he would buy you jewelries !!! it doesn't have to be expensive, if it screams your name then he is buying it.

when you put on your pretty dresses he would be all over you!!!

"you look so cute in this dress, i wanna kiss"

when you get excited, you would squeeze your hands in front of your neck area while smiling so big and that sight could simply melt remus' heart !!!!

sometimes you would hold one of his hand while doing it and he would pull you close to him :(

picnic dates and he is making a small flower bouquet filled with pink and white flowers

he runs his fingers through your hair!! when he comforts you, when you guys are hugging, when you guys are studying and you asked him a question as you lean to him, and moree

sirius- being the pro hairstylist he is would try styling your hair because it's much longer than his and he wants to style someone else's hair since remus and james and peter refused

and remus would sit behind you beside sirius, making sure he's not hurting anything

he's like 'iS he HuRtINg YoUr scALp?"

and when it's done, he'd thank sirius for making your hair looks so pretty

he would absolutely keep a pink sweater in his bag for you in case you're cold <3

cheek & forehead kisses>>>>

after a while of dating, he's sure you're his permanent home.

no matter where he is, just the thought of you makes him feel at ease.

he sometimes feels like you deserve so much better than him </3

but you love him so much and no matter how many bad things he says about himself, you would shut him up with your soft kisses

remus would take care of himself more, following your steps

and oh did i mention him loving your style? like-there is no shame in being feminine and he def would encourage you to be who you are and dress however you like !!!!!

hates the stigma society created that views femininity with a negative connotation

rem gets jealous but not often because you know his insecurities so whenever someone is trying to flirt with you, you just go away and glue yourself to remus instead

if you have more ideas, please don't be afraid to send them in!!! i will make a short blurb with it :)

[honeyandberryjuice]

Into Wonderland

summary: you have a very questionable situation with the man of your dreams. literally. relationship(s): reader/yagi toshinori (all might) word count: 938 warning(s): 18+, MINORS DNI

author's note: originally written for @lavenderovercast of their oc, but edited it for reader x toshinori. specifially small might because i love him. if you enjoyed this, any interaction is appreciated ♡ if anyone would like this rewritten for male, gender neutral or otherwise, please let me know!! tags: small might, fem!reader, cheating reader, well not really because it's a dream, emotional cheating?, whatever it is probably isn't morally correct, very guilty conscience. but it's sexy??

🍯 prefer to read on ao3? 🍯

 The room is hot. So fucking hot.

 Maybe it’s the fact that Japan was experiencing a dry spell, not even an ounce of any signs of rain for the last four days. Or, perhaps, it’s because Toshinori was moaning into your ear, breathy and so, so hot against you. If you weren’t so warm in your cheeks, and so very much distracted by the man’s very large fingers rubbing against your clit, you might’ve giggled as the air tickled your skin.

 Nothing seems very funny right now and, to be honest, your thoughts have been a garbled mess for the past few minutes. It was only the feeling of perspiration clinging to your back that had awakened the internal complaint—Though, really, you had absolutely nothing to complain about when Toshinori’s rough, calloused fingers swirled so hypnotically on your pussy.

 “Fuck,” You gasp out, a familiar pressure building inside your stomach. If the man continued this much longer, you’d come apart. There was something embarrassing about that, even though you trusted him with your entire life… Perhaps it was because this had all come on so unexpectedly, and you should feel shame about this, you should think about your husband—But, shit, it felt so fucking good.

 The blonde man lifted his soft lips from your neck, his eyebrows furrowing in worry. The pressure wanes, and you realise that his hands have slowed their pace. His voice, deliciously gravelly and cracking from lust, asks softly, “Are you okay? Does that hurt?”

 Oh god. You can’t stand it; you want him so fucking bad that it hurts. You don't deserve this man, this moment, anything—But there’s something so delightfully wicked about everything that the two of you shouldn’t be doing, and you don't ever want it to stop. Emphatically, you shake your head, and your hand slides up his neck to grip roughly at his hair. The other hand cups his in-between your thighs, and you push his hand closer. “P-Please, don’t. I’m almost there, Yagi. I…” It seemed impossible for your cheeks to blush anymore than they currently were, but you felt them warm even deeper. “I want to cum for you.”

 Toshinori is at a complete loss for words. His body betrays him to show this fact very clearly as his jaw falls open, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth. It takes a moment for him to regain his composure, and he finally clears his throat before looking at the person in front him with such softness and high regard that you suddenly think about covering yourself up. You don't, because you want more than anything for this to continue, but you can’t help but feel vulnerable under his dark-eyed gaze. After what felt like a lifetime, he responded, “I would like that, more than anything. I want to make you happy—”

 And suddenly, you’re pulling his face towards yours and wrapping your mouth around his. Your heart aches, but your pussy aches even more to feel him again. You don't know if you’ll ever get this chance laid before you again, and you can’t stand living with your regrets any longer. You wanted him; you’d wanted him for years, since you’d been classmates in America. You should’ve been braver, shouldn’t have run away from him, should’ve made yourself confess to him and claim what had felt like yours forever. If you wouldn’t have that chance again, then you’d do absolutely everything in your power to make this memory last a lifetime.

 Your tongue slips into his mouth, and the feel of his own—shy at first, though still so, so curious—feels like heaven. Then there’s fire, burning, and metallic iron mixed with a hint of peppermint as Toshinori noticeably relaxes in your hands like clay and his own tongue slides against yours. Your breaths mingles together, and you aren’t sure if the moan you heard was just your own, or his, or the two of you together.

 Your hands are everywhere—in his hair, brushing against his shoulders, cupping his cheeks. You can’t get enough, it feels like you’ve been starving for this for your whole existence, and this is where you’re meant to be and—

 With a jerk, you awaken. Your skin is clammy, your hair is sticking to your head, and you feel an urgent need to get out of your pyjamas now.

 But you’re still not fully conscious, and the thought is quickly removed from your mind as your hand instinctively reaches out for the body beside you. His skin is cold, so lushly cold, and you magnetically shuffle closer to him, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

 You ignore the fact that the scent that washes over you isn’t the same as the one you’d relished in your dreams, instead cupping a hand against his stubbly cheek, disregarding that the one you truly wanted to touch was clean shaven, and pulling him in for a kiss. There is no inferno or iron, only the slight heaviness of sleep.

 “Sweetheart?” In a voice that doesn’t feel right, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that you can think about is that you need this, and you know you’re a horrible, disgusting person that doesn’t deserve any of it—

 But warm hands, cold at the fingertips, finally, finally reach for you and you can feel his hair brushing against your cheek. It’s similar in shape, and your fingers have expertly explored it over the years, and if you just close your eyes and dream, it’s blond and spiky, and perfect.

 Even if it doesn’t belong to the man you really want.