#like rarely do I even think about anything going on over there when I’m not at work

[lemonlover1110]

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi needs help after committing a crime.

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Papa…” Megumi looks at his father with glossy eyes, ready to shed a tear at any moment. It’s very rare for Megumi to seek his father for help, so Toji is willing to drop anything to tend to the child. Toji gets off the couch and crouches down to be at Megumi’s level.

“What is it?” Toji asks, ready to fight just about anyone. Whoever did something to his son is going to pay, one way or another.

“I broke mama’s vase.” Megumi is nearly sniffling as he confesses to his grave crime. Something that’s barely a crime, Toji hated that hideous vase anyway (he still loves you, even with your bad taste in furniture). However, Toji is confused why Megumi comes to him to confess.

“Alright… Do you need me to tell her?” Toji responds, and Megumi shakes his little head frantically. “Then what?”

“I need help cleaning it up.” Megumi responds, and Toji begins to look around. Is there any police nearby? The little guy must be wired up. Toji lifts up Megumi’s paw patrol shirt and checks to see if there’s a microphone taped to him. You’re trying to catch him committing a crime… But when he realizes Megumi is being genuine, Toji sighs.

“Let’s get the broom.” Toji says, a frown on his face as he thinks about why Megumi ran to him and not to you. You’re usually so sweet and comforting, why would the child seek out Toji of all people? 

Megumi follows behind like a little duckling, hoping to be of help to his father. Toji grabs the broom, and before he heads over to the mess that Megumi made, Toji can’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you ask mom to help?”

“She’s scary.” Megumi doesn’t hesitate before answering, and Toji’s eyes widen. Did Megumi seriously just say that?

“Your mom is scary, so you come to me for help?” Toji sounds offended– Because he is. Megumi nods in response, and Toji bites down his tongue. He won’t scare the child, there has to be one parent that Megumi can tell everything to. Somehow, someway, Toji ended up with the role. 

“You know what?” Toji begins as he sees the mess that Megumi made. He can’t blame the little guy, “I’m scared of your mom too.”

[vrystalius]

Muzan’s only weakness.

Talking to a strange individual every night for months now made you start to feel a little more for the handsome man who calls himself Muzan. But after leaving you alone for so long made you doubt that he ever felt anything for you.

Flufftober prompt: “You love me?” “Always have.”

Pairing: Muzan x gn!reader

I really hope this is the prompt you meant @aethien11-blog , I wasn’t really sure! But I hope you enjoyed this, I’m always so nervous when writing for mutuals XD. If you didn’t like this or meant another prompt, please let me know and I’ll definitely write a different one!

You first met Muzan after he had saved you from a creepy man followeing you through the park. He offered you his coat for warmth and company to walk home with, but that walk quickly became longer and longer, choosing one detour after another just to keep talking. This gentleman claims to be a divorced, wealthy businessman who has a sickness that keeps him from leaving his home during the day. He has a pale complexion and beautiful dark hair, his eyes a rare reddish colour and his nails well kept and sharp. He is intelligent, well-mannered and mysterious, his presence alone causing tingles across your whole body. That tingling moved you to ask him for another meeting the following night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

Muzan brought you a gift everytime you two met; beautiful flowers, beautiful hand-crafted vases he claims to have received from a colleague, food that he never ate himself, clothes that are more expensive than your existence and jewerly fit for a shogun. He is spoiling you, truly, and all this man wants in return is a piece of your time and your grateful smile. At first, you believed Muzan is just buying favours from you just to bed you in return, but he never attempted to do such. He never even tried to kiss or touch you in any ways, always kept a respectable distance and continued to be the nicest gentleman. Perhaps he doesn’t want a relationship, or at least that’s the impression he gave you while sitting on your porch only to talk to you the whole night.

But his last visit was three months ago, so what do you know? Nothing. Muzan never opened up to you in any way, only interested in your boring life and never talking about his own. You barely even know the man you were missing so much.

The first night of him not showing up, you were incredibly worried for him. Perhaps Muzan ran into trouble and needs help, but after the second, third, fourth, tenth, twentieth night of him not returning, you stopped sitting outside in the cold, alone, waiting like a pathetic dog awaiting the return of it’s owner. You felt ashamed for missing him so badly, even though he left without ever saying goodbye.

Until one night, a soft knock lured you to the front of your house. Opening the door revealed the man you were thinking about for three months straight. He was dressed in his signature black suit and his white, freshly ironed pants. A small smile spread on his face. Muzan presented a small but neatly arranged bouquet of flowers. He was acting like he never left.

“I hope I haven’t upset you for leaving you alone for so long.”

He took a single step forward, standing in your doorway. His presence felt oddly calming and your heart started to flutter. It felt more full, as if a piece that was previously missing now filled the hole. You couldn’t help but smile and take the boquet out of his hands. His pale hand lifted slowly and cupped your warm cheek.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to return…”

Muzan lifted your head, making you look at him. You saw something soft behind his eyes while he looks at you. You felt his finger gently brushing over your cheek. His touch made you feel something you buried after the first week of him not returning— hope for love.

“You believed I wouldn’t return? I apologise. I should’ve notified you about my leave.”

His voice was warmer, quieter, softer than the last time you heard it. Much gentler. It made your mind race and thoughts return back to the question you used to ask yourself during the nights you waited.

“Do you even care for me, Muzan?”

Your question made his finger stopped moving against your skin. He stared at your face, the shine in his eyes dimming. His other hand slowly lifted to cup your other cheek, angling your face slightly. His fingers brushed your hair strands to the side while Muzan admired you silently without saying a word. Warmth pooled inside your stomach in anticipation.

“I do. I care for you greatly. I beg you to believe me.”

Muzan took a deep breath. He averted his eyes for a moment as if collecting his thoughts or preparing to say something that heavily weighs on his own heart.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

His voice was quiet and shaky. You saw how vulnerable he looked and how much it took him to say this. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest and a huge smile spread all over your face. Your hand brushed over his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. Gods, he’s so nervous, yet he looks so confident and casual. His hand wrapped around yours.

“You do?”

“Always. I always have.”

The shine in his eyes returned, and yet something darker taking over his expression. The grip in you tightened slightly as he leaned down to you, pressing his lips up against yours. Your breath hitched slightly at the metallic taste of his lips, your hand gripping his shirt tightly. Muzan’s tongue teased in between your lips, asking for permission to go further. He pushed you inside your house, pressing you against the wall of your entrance hall. His hands hungrily travelled down to your waist, giving you a small squeeze and pulling your hips against his. He took the forgotten bouquet of flowers out of your hands and threw them aside for the moment onto a cupboard.

“I love you. Allow me to make up for the times I neglected you.”

🎃

I hope you enjoyed this!! I started writing around three times until I got satisfied with this, this challenge is really hard for me XD. I’ll keep going though, it’s super fun!! Please send in some requests you’d like to see in the future <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves and happy Halloween season <3

Here are the lists of prompts you can choose from:

Flufftober (fluff)

Fictober (angst, fluff)

Whumptober (angst)

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - V

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, divider by animatedglittergraphics

5.  fight the good fight

When you wake again you are bouncing, bent in half slung over a man’s shoulder; the vampire hunter’s. You can tell from the intoxicating scent of his cologne, his sweat, his blood–him. It’s like catnip to you, and for a moment you just want to go back to sleep, and let him take you wherever he’s taking you. 

That’s a very bad idea, of course, and good on you for recognizing it through the haze of bloodloss and whatever other hold he has over you. You still do not understand what he is, or why he has such power over you. 

From what little you can see, it seems like you’re in a dark alley. There are sirens in the distance–the aftermath of the massacre in the club, you presume. He has got you far away. How long have you been out?

You struggle again, managing to worm free and get down, before the vampire hunter pins you against the wall of the building. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grouses, annoyed. He seems in much better shape than before, having stolen your blood. You, on the other hand, feel so weak you can barely stand. 

“Let go. Please let me go.” 

You must sound so pathetic that even this brutal killer softens for you. His grip changes slightly, holding you up against the wall by your waist. You have no delusions, however, that that can change in an instant. Yet…he’s looking at you with those sad dark eyes, like a man drowning. Even with the splatter of blood across his face and the crust of it dried in his long dark hair–he’s so handsome it hurts, and your fingers clench in his jacket, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, vampling. I saved you.” 

“You…ate me!” 

There is a tick at the corner of his well-formed mouth, betraying his amusement. 

“I took too much. Here, have some back.” He unbuttons his shirt further at the throat to display the strong column of his neck. Your vision zeroes on his jumping pulse like a laser sight, and you notice that intoxicating scent engulfing you again. It’s warm spices and your favorite flowers and pure man–it’s so good that you want to mold yourself to him and never let go. 

It’s a good trick, for a vampire hunter, and at least you are conscious enough to know now that it is a trick. 

“Stop that,” you scold, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fight it.  

“I can’t help it,” he answers, his voice gone low in a way that shuts down your brain and skips straight your loins. He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, engulfing you with the pure size of him and his hair swinging down to brush your face–he also smells like blood, which does not help you at all. “It’s…you. It’s us.”

“No,” you answer, mostly because you're afraid of someone having that kind of control over you, again. 

“It’s…rare,” he admits. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you insist. “I’m just a girl…who’s really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And really good at keeping a soft spot for the wrong man. You cannot stop yourself from thinking about John in that moment, and how just one night with him flung you into this strange and terrible supernatural world. Would you change it, if you could? Will there ever come a time, when the thought of him does not feel like talons digging your heart out of your chest? 

“Hmm. Maybe.” He lifts his hand to his throat, and you watch as his fingernails lengthen to sharp points, perfect for breaking his own skin in one neat, bloody line. “Here, milaya. My apology to you.” 

That ruby welling of his life’s essence smells marvelous, and you want to seal your mouth on it more than you’ve wanted anything in a good long while. Somehow, you manage to shake your head, even if minutely. “No, you’ll…enthrall me again or something. I don’t trust you.” 

He sighs. 

“I admit that I want you,” he acknowledges reluctantly. “But you need blood.”

“Yes. Let me go, and I’ll go get some. Again.” It annoys you in that moment that the efforts of your hunt all went to this man’s benefit. Dhampiro, don Juan had called him. Dhampir, you translate to English. Not human, by his own admission. 

Obviously.

He smirks a little down at you. “I saw you feed earlier. Why did you pick him?”

“He killed his wife.” 

“Ah. You like to play jury and executioner.”

“I didn’t kill him.” 

“You’ve killed others though. You’re sloppy about it too.” 

“Am not.” 

He laughs at you, a short, amused, huff, which is as good as an ‘are so’.

“What do you care?” 

“The High Table might start to care, if you make a big enough spectacle of yourself. Naughty little vampires get a visit from the Boogeyman, you know. You aren’t supposed to draw attention. There are rules.” 

“I don’t…know what any of that means,” you’re loathe to admit. 

There’s so much John Constantine could have chosen to fill you in on. Maybe he thought you’d figure it out on your own. Or maybe…he has as much trouble thinking straight around you, as you do him. If he felt a fraction of what you did, when this man before you took you–it’s no wonder you scared John off. Surrendering to that would not be easy for a man like John Constantine. 

“I’d say you need a coven to teach you, but considering what I’m going to do to the locals here…you’d better stick with me.”

“You’re…going to kill them all?” you ask, more intrigued than horrified by the thought. 

“Yes.” There is zero doubt in this man that he can do it, too. After what you saw…you guess you agree with him. Constantine is dangerous, but he could never wreak the sort of massacre this man unleashed in the club. 

And here you are, in his grasp. Well done. 

“Why?”

“Don Juan’s scheming to overthrow the High Table. They don’t like that.” 

“Wait, wait.” A hunger pang washes through you, and you grip his jacket a little harder, your knees weak. The blood dripping down his beautiful throat smells so good, but you realize this might be your chance to finally get some answers. “Who the fuck are the High Table?” 

“How do you not know that?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that instead of just fucking telling me the answer?” you snipe, practically vibrating with frustration. 

“You really have been so alone this whole time?” he asks, his dark eyes inexplicably softening for you. He looks down at you, cupping the side of your face with a paw of a hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Maybe it just feels good to be handled like you are something precious, rather than like a farm animal. Or maybe…you are losing your mind, but you have to close your eyes again, shielding yourself from the weight of that blackhole gaze.

“Yes.” You’re not proud of the way your voice cracks as you utter that one word. You hate it, that you think of John, and how he said he’d help you, but mostly he just disappeared on you. You know he has his own life, and his own problems…but he practically abandoned you, all while living right next door. 

It was a good trick, truth be told.  

“That’s a hard way to live. I would know.” His thumb is still stroking your cheek, and it feels so good, and you know this is madness. It has to be a trick. Everything is a fucking trick, with these guys. And yet…it’s as though you can feel this man’s loneliness, the weight of his solitude pressing down upon you, every time you look into his eyes. 

Maybe it’s because he kills everyone, you remind yourself, marveling at your unflagging ability to empathize with the most unavailable men you can find. 

“The High Table?” you prompt again through gritted teeth, trying not to give in to the urge to pull him close, to hide in the bend of his neck, to lose yourself in the heady taste of him and forget everything else. 

“They rule the Underworld. You. Me. Everything that goes bump in the night answers to Them.” He tells you this without condescension, and you could kiss him for that alone. 

“Demons too?”

“No, they’re Hell’s problem. Usually.”

“Then…the High Table are vampires?”

“Vampires. Weres. Sirens. Fey.” He tilts his head in thought. “I’m sure I’m missing something.”   

You nod, trying to digest this information while you are so starved you can hardly think. He’s named more things you didn’t even know existed, but you shouldn’t be surprised at this point. But then…if demons are Hell’s purview, what system of belief do the rest of them answer to? The magnitude of this question makes your head spin. Finding out that the Christian God was real was wild enough for you. What about the rest? 

“Wait…does this mean…all the Gods are real?”

Your leap of logic to the biggest existential question known to man seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling for you. “Malyshka,” he scolds you softly. “You really want to discuss this here? Come on.”

He seems to think he’s taking you somewhere, but you resist again, bracing against the wall.   

“I’d rather…go home, if it’s the same to you.” you admit, winning yourself a tired sigh.

“I can’t…let you do that yet.” 

“Why not?”  

Again, he strokes your face with that big hand, and you feel as though he’s looking into your very soul. 

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Someone he lost, you infer from the longing that is woven into those words. Why does that make your heart ache for him?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “But whoever she was…I’m not her.”

“No,” he agrees, but he tilts his head to examine you, like you are an amoeba under a microscope.  

“But the universe moves in circles, and something is happening here.” He inhales, and you see a flash of that eerie electric blue in his irises again. “I have to know what it is.”

Whatever you meant to say in answer is swallowed up by his mouth lowering to yours, a kiss that is somehow demanding and languorously slow. He claims your lips for his own, holding you to him as his tongue slides into your mouth, teasing you like you’ve done this a thousand times before. Maybe you don’t need to breathe, but he leaves you breathless all the same, overwhelmed by that pheromone scent and his hands on you, one paw at the back of your head guiding your mouth to his neck. He tastes like a miracle, strong and heady and so delicious as you drink him down mouthful by mouthful. His blood is so potent you feel your strength begin to return just from the first swallow, and the rest is pure high. 

You start to see some things, about this man whose blood is in your mouth. You see flashes of a forbidding dark forest, and fighting, so much fighting. A quaint little cottage in the woods, so humble, so warm. There is a woman whose touch feels like sunshine. ‘Yelena,’ he calls her. And with her hands in his hair and a smile on her lips she calls him…

“Jardani?”

 He jerks back to look at you with haunted eyes, pinning you to the wall with his big hand spanning your chest. Drunk on the want of him, you whine like a thwarted kitten, trying to return to the bloody font of his throat. He searches your face as though desperate for the answer to some crucial riddle written upon your features. “How…?” But does not give you the chance to answer, his mouth crashing over yours again with a new ardor, gripping you so hard that even you will have bruises. 

You cannot think. 

There is only the taste of him, intoxicating and wonderful and you cannot stop yourself from pulling at his clothes, holding him to you. You want to climb him, devour him, be inside him, as surely as his lightning-charged blood is raging through you. 

“Fuck,” you hiss when at last you manage to pull away, not for breath but just a break from this madness. What the fuck is he doing to you?

“Yeah?” he asks, seemingly with all seriousness, hoisting you against the wall with hands on your thighs like you weigh nothing at all. Your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct; he pins you with his hips, his manhood rock hard against your center. He grinds against you, his lips on your neck again, teasing open the wound he left earlier, and you can’t help but moan, soaking wet and aching to be filled. In that moment you don’t care that you’re in a dirty alley with a man you don’t even know. You know the heart of him, and right now you would swear unequivocally that he belonged to you. 

“Wow. You High Table assholes sure know how to treat a lady.”

The sound of that familiar voice makes you freeze, some small modicum of sanity returning to you. 

Your would-be lover is less civil, snarling at the newcomer in the alley. “Not a good time, Constantine.” 

“No time like the present, Wick. Put her down.”

With his attention fixed somewhere else, some modicum of clearer thought returns to you. Your first stop is pure mortification. 

There is John, standing tall with his legs spread in his usual black and white suit, and to his shoulder he is holding a large, golden…cross gun? Like he totally intends to use it if he has to. 

The sight of him makes your heart ache with longing. No tricks. No magic. You just…adore him, even while wrapped up in another man’s arms, and you realize you are as hopeless as you are smitten. That connection between you glows again. You feel it in your chest, and it helps clear the lustful ardor that a moment ago gripped you so completely.

Dhampir magic is some scary shit.

The vampire hunter–Jardani?–Wick?–looks at you as though you’ve said something out loud. His eyes narrow; he doesn’t seem to like it one bit. He does put you down, but holds you in front of him like a shield, his big hand at your throat. 

“Never thought the John Constantine would turn vampire’s familiar. Who knew?” taunts the dhampir behind you. 

“What?”

 Both men ignore your question, fixed on each other in this standoff. 

“Call it what you want,” Constantine answers stonily. “I’m the one holding the gun. Let her go.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“I see that. Nice, you always gotta use your Blood Lure to get laid?” 

“Hardly. Your little vampling here is a special girl.” 

“Yeah. But she doesn’t belong to you, Wick, so let her go.” 

“You love her?” 

Wide eyed, you can’t stop yourself from fixating on John at that question, gone grave-still in Wick’s unrelenting grasp. 

In answer, John mostly just grinds his teeth, his lower jaw jutting. “It’s complicated,” he finally admits, and though that’s never a good answer from a man, your treacherous undead heart still skips a beat.  

“I think she deserves better than it’s complicated.”

“Not from you, half breed. Let her go.” 

You feel Wick tense behind you, and you remember the absolute whirlwind of carnage he caused in the club a few blocks away, that supernatural berzerker rage that mowed down vampire after vampire. John is formidable, but you can’t help but think no one can stand up to that and live. “Please,” you say, appealing to the wall of a man behind you. “Please, just let us go.”

Wick growls deep in his chest–a chilling, primal sound that resonates through you, your every hair standing on end. 

His grip upon you flexes, as though his physical being abhors the very idea of it. You’re not really afraid for yourself now. You’re afraid for John, and unbidden you start to cry those bloody tears. “I love him,” you say in the most hushed whisper you can muster, and the moment it leaves your lips you know it’s true, and maybe it has been true since the night you made that grouchy man dinner, and he made you feel like you mattered to someone in this big mean city. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Somehow, this is the thing that seems to call this dangerous man down. For a moment his grip around your waist tightens; he inhales your scent deeply, his nose behind your ear sending a warm thrill down your spine. He speaks low, though you think John can probably hear him anyway. “He doesn’t look good, vampling. I won’t have to wait long for you.” 

Suddenly, he’s just gone. Disappeared into the shadows, as though he is made of night. 

Unsupported, you stumble, and fall right on your butt. 

John looks around warily with the strange gun at the ready, sweeping the alley like he can’t believe the dhampir had actually retreated. Slowly he crosses to you, impossibly tall from your vantage of the ground. He seemingly reluctantly offers you a hand. “You ok?” 

“No,” you answer truthfully, taking his hand, the warm strength of his grip a welcome boon. When he pulls you to your feet you want more than anything to just be in his arms. 

But all he offers you is a hard stare, and a brusque, “Come on,” as he pulls you towards the other end of the alley. 

It’s complicated, he’d said.  

Why does that have to feel right then like he hates your guts?

You’re getting tired of crying for this man. You remind yourself of this as the ball of despair rises in your throat and your eyes sting like mace. 

Did he hear you? If he heard your heartfelt confession to the dhampir, even if it saved his life…he did not like it at all. 

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[sttoru]

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

[neofelis----nebulosa]

The people who say that customer service jobs are for the slackers and office jobs are the real jobs for hard workers are lying. My office job is so much easier than my last job and pays so much more.

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[arts-and-drafts]

I decided to start compiling speech patterns and such for the Hermits I watch the most, because being a fic writer is hard sometimes 😭 then I thought “why not share it here?”

so here’s my very rough analysis of my most viewed Hermits, this is just what I’ve managed to gather so please don’t call me out for what I’m missing

-

Scar

Rarely stutters in normal speech. Maybe pauses if he’s started a sentence and doesn’t know where it’s going, but he doesn’t tend to trail off unless something interrupts his train of thought

Stutters a LOT when he’s startled. Also makes ‘hoo!’ noises repeatedly before he finds his words

Lays on the charm THICK when he’s trying to convince someone over literally anything; compliments their looks, their handiwork, and then pitches his proposition in smooth segue. Not one to entertain haggling though (however he DOES do a ‘look if you’ll pay full price I’ll throw in xyz’ thing). King of upselling even the most mundane things.

His tone is cheerful most of the time, no matter what he’s saying. He’ll actually often say very disturbing things with a light voice (ex. when discussing how to retaliate ie “what should we do about him?” “we could kill him! :)”)

Builds and locations somehow are always capitalized in his voice?? Like he says them differently. I can’t really explain it (when he talks about Aqua Town or Scarland or The Big Dig)

Literally has an evil laugh when he thinks of a way to prank someone or mess with people

Hums in thought quite often, and uses “huh!” quite often when confused or finding out something new (Mostly with redstone)

His farewell is almost always “Byeeee, have a great time!” even if the conversation he left was not a pleasant one. I’m almost certain he does this in tense situations just to get under other people’s skin and really push how unbothered he is

Doesn’t tend to insult people, the farthest he’ll take it is backhanded compliments

That said he is not afraid to outright threaten (“I will murder them.”)

References media a lot, both for concepts for builds and in speech (ie his greeting “Well hello there!” is from Star Wars)

Number one exclamation is “Sweet Baby Jellie!”

(More under the cut!)

Grian

Cold opens, both in videos and conversations (rarely says “hello, how are you, etc” when encountering someone, but he does say farewells/‘thank you’s)

Likes to sneak up on people and scare them if he realizes they haven’t noticed him yet, usually does so by getting real close and then yelling (“HEY!”/“HI!”/“WHAT’S THAT?”)

Uses the name of whoever he’s talking to pretty often while speaking to them (“Well, Mumbo, you never know”/“So, Scar, as you can see here-“), same goes for often addressing his audience (“you all”/“you lot”/“you guys”)

Usually pretty focused (when he wants to be) but oftentimes takes a minute to laugh at things he notices in the natural environment (An accidental face in a build, a mob in a strange place, etc)

Takes the lead in a conversation if nobody is the clear leader, but generally only speaks when spoken to if someone else has risen to that spot

Clarifies instructions after something is explained, both to his viewers and to anyone he’s grouped up with (most often seen in the Life Series)

Uses “Pardon?!”/“Beg your pardon?!” most often when surprised or startled (he’s very British), also sometimes uses “Sorry??”

Things are way more funny to him when he’s tired

Deadpans a lot in conversation ie “why not do xyz?” “Well because we’ll horrifically die 😑“

This man is allergic to committing to the bit unless he’s the one that initiated it

Not one to sugarcoat (“how is it?” “well to be honest it’s miserable”)

Number one exclamation is “WHAT?!” (though he often uses “oh my GOODNESS” quite a bit)

Mumbo

The start of nearly every episode is almost a pitch, does the same when bringing up an idea to others (“I have this idea”/“I was thinking”/“I noticed” etc)

Often laughs a little at himself when he speaks

Also often brings up how inexperienced/unqualified he thinks he is with literally any task he’s doing

Gets very distracted with the smallest things

Uses similes a lot when trying to describe a concept (“I’m thinking a this-type thing”/“Something like a [xyz]”/“Imagine like a [thing]”)

His voice gets higher when he’s startled or panicking

A very vocal thinker, which makes sense because he’s a MC Youtuber, but he also just. Seems to think out loud regardless

Comments a lot on the feel of things (“Oh this feels menacing”/“This looks like it’d mess you up”/“This makes it feel very intimidating”), often with building

Extremely modest. However will celebrate when he does something right in redstone/building (“YES! Oh my days, that took forever”)

Once and a while will have a rare banter moment with people he’s comfortable with (ie teasing and making fun)

Related to above, he gets very giggly when he’s hanging out with people he’s familiar with (Grian and Scar most often, but also Iskall)

Number one exclamation is “What on earth?!”

Joel

Greets people most often with “How you doing [name]?”/“How are ya [name]?”

He’s very northern. He often leaves out words in his sentences bc that’s just the way his dialect is (“What you doin’?” vs “What are you doing?”)

Says his th’s like f’s (“somefing”/“nofing”/“finking”) ((Stress also does this))

His jokes/teasing are very deadpan (“I made you this extra thing, because you’re trash at this”)

Actually gives gifts of resources very often, and always leaves it with a little note and signs his name

His voice gets higher pitched when he’s defensive/being extremely cheeky but other than that his tone rarely changes

This man. Flirts so much. If any other person initiates even the slightest of flirty banter he takes that and dials it to eleven I cannot believe this is a straight married man sometimes

Joel commits to the bit 100% of the time (slightly related to above), unless of course it’s jokes about his height

Makes a point to compliment himself if he gets the chance (words most often used are “handsome” “strong” and “humble”, as well as comments about his muscles and physique)

Insults his enemies diminutively (“look at you down there, tiny idiot”/“You’re wrong and also weak”) ((seen most often in Empires SMP)

His most often used insult is “idiot”

When he’s flustered/frustrated he uses “bloody” a lot (ie “bloody heck” or “this bloody thing” (loves to toe the PG line), also uses “blooming” (“bloomin’ heck”)

Most often used exclamation is also “WHAT?!”

Bdubs

Opens videos very jovially, talks almost like a radio host

Breaks down his builds down to the block, spends a lot of time discussing his block pallet choices and giving tips while he builds

Uses the affirmation “sure enough” a lot, and often addresses himself as “Ol’ Bdubs”

Talks affectionately about other hermits often (“[name], the absolute sweetheart, left me some materials”, “[name], you angel!”)

Adding to above, “angel” or “sweet angel” seems to be his most often used affectionate terms

Switches on a dime, though, if he gets offended (which of course causes others to poke fun at him even more)

Calls mobs “stupid” a lot when they don’t do what he wants (but takes it back if he says it to one of his horses ex. “Come here, stupid—wonderful, I mean, beautiful”)

THIS MAN IS THE #1 HORSE ENJOYER. He gets a horse first thing every season and rides it everywhere, and they’re always a focal point of his theme or builds in some regard

Pauses whatever he’s doing to sleep as soon as it’s possible, and gets very antsy if he can’t do it for some reason (“One moment, time to shreep!”)

Related to above, EVERYONE messes with him if he’s trying to sleep in their presence ie breaking his bed over and over, and he gets increasingly more frustrated when it happens

Rarely is soft spoken or quiet, he projects his voice and uses a lot of emphasis in his tone

Either straight up screams (and peaks the mic 😭) if he’s startled or scared, or yells “oh my GOODNESS!!”

Number one exclamation is “HEY!”

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[zaczenemiji]

Hi I hope you are having a lovely day my dear ♥. I was wondering if you could do a Kenji Sato x reader where the reader is an assistant manager to him and one day he like acts arrogantly towards her during one of his interviews when he sees a pretty journalist amongst the crowed of ppl interviewing him and he says some hurtful things to reader and collectively ignoring her and instead choosing to focus on the journalists girl. Ever since that day reader has been silent around Sato and he thought he didn't care but it bothered him because even though she is usually quite, these days she is *too* quite and then there is like a mini celebration for like a baseball game win and reader goes with a guy who is like an athlete but is not as famous as Sato. So the kicker is reader is absolutely DROP DEAD GORGEOUS and ppl at the party even think she is a model. So Sato get jealous and he acts all possessive and protective of her , while she is still angry at him but eventually he makes it up to her over time. If you have anything else to add please do.

Shattered Pride

Kenji Sato x AssistantManager!Reader

Word Count: 1,873

Genre/Warnings: Character Development, Eventual Romance, Forgiveness, Jealousy, Regret, Redemption

Author’s Note: The idea behind this was just fantastic! Thank you so much for the request, writing this was my honor.

MASTERLIST

Being Kenji Sato’s assistant manager is not an easy task. I repeat: Not. An. Easy. Task. Throughout his baseball career, he has had several assistants who quit as soon as they were hired because, for one thing, Kenji is stubborn.

Ghosted interviews, off-topic answers, and insults to other players were just some of the many things about him that gave you a headache.

You remember being referred to him by his last assistant saying that it was a high-paying job. However, you were skeptical at how quickly and willing they were to give off their job to another person.

You understood why the first time you met him. After the meeting, you asked him, “Is there anything else you need from me today?”

In response, he gave an irritated sigh. “If I needed something, I would have asked.”

Thankfully, you were more on the nonchalant scale, and how people respond to you didn’t bother you much. You were here to do your job—and excellently at that, not exactly to be friends with an arrogant baseball star.

Kenji’s behavior was… challenging, that’s the best word for it. He barked orders, rarely said thank you, and seemed to take your presence for granted. But in conditions like these, you thrive the most; you succeed where others have failed.

Today was a usual day with the usual crowd of journalists and fans gathering in the conference room. You stood by his side, ensuring everything was in order for yet another post-game interview.

It was going all smooth and well when Kenji suddenly paused mid-sentence. It was a very short pause that wouldn’t be noticeable to others but you, with all the time you spent as his assistant, noticed it.

Your eyes looked in the direction he kept glancing at. A girl, of course, strikingly beautiful with long sleek back hair that cascaded down in soft waves.

When it was her turn to ask, Kenji leaned forward to give her a dazzling smile. “Why don’t you ask me a question?” he said, ignoring the list of pre-approved questions you handed him before the interview started.

Kenji was holding court with this journalist longer than he should. You noticed that the others in line were starting to murmur in annoyance.

You stepped forward, maintaining your professional demeanor. “Excuse me, Mr. Sato, but we need to move on,” you said. “Other journalists are waiting for their turn.”

“I’m not done here,” he said arrogantly, not bothering to look your way.

You took a deep breath, wanting to handle this situation diplomatically. “I understand,” you said. “But we’ve exceeded the time limit, and it’s only fair to give everyone a chance.”

Whichever agency’s plan was it to send her here to get ahead of other journalists, it’s working. She gave you a polite smile, clearly enjoying the extra attention.

Kenji frowned and turned to you. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something important?” He asked. “If you can’t manage your job properly, maybe you should reconsider.”

Your eyes widened. You could feel others’ on you, their stares almost cutting through your professional facade.

Swallowing your pride, you nodded and stepped back, keeping your expression neutral. But as neutral as you looked, deep down you felt a mix of anger and humiliation.

From that day on, you remained silent around Kenji, only speaking when necessary. You remained professional though, and you made sure that your job was not compromised.

During meetings, you no longer offered insights unless directly asked. When you did speak, your tone was strictly professional. Well, it has always been, but the warmth that characterized your interactions was now gone.

Like that one time during a team strategy meeting. Kenji asked for input on a new play. The room fell silent as everyone waited for your usual insightful suggestions, but you simply looked down at your notes, saying nothing.

The coach glanced at you, surprised. "Any thoughts, (y/n)?" You shook your head. "No, Coach. Nothing to add."

At first, Kenji was oblivious to all of this. He was absorbed in his own world and the adulation of his fans, as always. But as the days turned into weeks, your silence grew too loud to ignore that even he finally noticed it.

A month later, the team planned on celebrating a recent major win. This time, they have decided to invite other athletes as guests of honor. The organizers wanted to have a mix of established stars and up-and-coming talents from the sports world.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to have yourself pampered. You have been working hard, after all. Despite the obvious tension between you and Kenji, you were still able to do your job well.

That’s why at the party, you were stunning. Drop dead gorgeous, as the team said. Though the lights were dim, it seemed as if a spotlight was following you as everyone you passed by turned their heads to look.

You decided to settle by the bar for drinks. “Hey there,” came a familiar voice. You turned to see Jake approaching. He was one of the promising young athletes and a rising star in the sports world who was invited to this party.

He plays as a forward for a popular soccer team and has recently garnered attention for his impressive performance in the league. This wasn’t the first time you met as Jake and Kenji ran into each other a couple times before at different events.

He leaned against the bar, signaling the bartender for a drink. “It’s nice to see you again and this time, enjoying yourself,” he said. “You looked like you needed a break at the last event we were at.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating his observation. "Yeah, it's been a bit hectic lately."

Jake's drink arrived, and he took a sip, his eyes studying you with genuine interest. “Well, you look incredible tonight,” he said. “Have you been hearing what the others are saying?”

Jake turned to glance at the crowd, then back at you. “They were all asking if you were a model or something,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the same.”

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, smiling. “You clean up pretty well yourself."

He laughed, a warm, infectious sound that put you at ease. "So, how's work been treating you? Still managing the chaos that is Kenji Sato?"

You hesitated, the memory of Kenji's recent behavior still fresh. "It's been… challenging," you admitted. "But I manage."

Jake's expression softened with understanding. "I can imagine. He's got a reputation for being difficult."

Unbeknownst to both of you, the baseball star you were talking about has finally arrived. His presence commanded attention as he navigated through the crowd, exchanging greetings and handshakes.

As he made his way deeper into the club, his eyes caught sight of you. At that moment he froze. Or was it time that froze? He didn’t know. All he was sure of was that for a little while, he couldn’t breathe.

You were stunning. Your outfit, a sleek, form-fitting dress that accentuated your every curve, made you look like you had just stepped off a runway. Your hair was styled to perfection, your makeup highlighting your natural beauty.

Suddenly, he noticed the man you were talking to, Jake. “That rookie soccer player,” he thought. Gosh, you deserved so much better. At that moment, with firm resolve, he declared upon himself that he would work to be the better that you deserved.

Kenjl's jaw clenched as his own possessive instincts flared up, a mix of jealousy and protectiveness surging through him. He made his way over to you, his eyes never leaving your form.

On your end, you noticed the crowd parted slightly, and you saw Kenji making his way towards you.

Turning slightly, you met Kenji’s gaze with a cool, indifferent look. "Kenji," you acknowledged, your tone polite but distant.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

Jake looked at you, his gaze asking if you were fine with it. You smiled at him, a genuine and warm expression, something you haven’t given Kenji in a while. “I’ll go on ahead,” you told Jake. “See you around.”

Kenji led you away from the crowd, finding a quieter corner of the club. As soon as you were out of earshot, he turned to you, his eyes dark with jealousy.

"Why didn't you come with me?" Kenji asked, his frustration evident.

You scoffed. “First of all, you didn’t ask me to.” You crossed your arms, fixing him with a hard stare. "And you made it very clear where I stand with you. Or rather, where I don't."

He winced, the memory of his hurtful words coming back to haunt him. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now. "I was wrong. I was an idiot."

You remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I've been a jerk, and I know it,” he continued. “I was arrogant, dismissive, and I took you for granted.”

You watch him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Yet you looked away, the hurt still fresh. "You hurt me, Kenji,” you said. “You made me feel worthless and unimportant."

Kenji steps closer, his voice filled with regret. “I know, I'm so sorry. I was so focused on myself, on my career, that I didn't see how much I was hurting you. Your silence has been killing me. I miss your insights, your presence.”

He paused for a while before continuing. “I miss you.” He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“You're more than just my assistant,” he said. “You're the reason I can do what I do. You make everything better, and I've been too blind to see it. Please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to earn back your trust.”

You met his gaze, searching for any sign of insincerity. All you saw was genuine regret and a longing to make things right. "This isn't something that can be fixed overnight, Kenji."

"I know," he said quickly. "I'll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes. I just... I can't lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. "We'll see," you said. "But it won't be easy."

He nodded, relief flooding his features. "I understand,” he said. “Thank you, (y/n)—for giving me a chance.”

As you walked back to the party, Kenji stayed close by your side, protective and possessive. arm subtly wrapped around your waist, a clear signal to everyone around that you were with him.

As the night came to an end, Kenji offered to drive you home. To which, you agreed. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything else, it was rather hopeful.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Kenji found you alone in the office. “Hey," he said softly, "I was thinking we could grab dinner. Just the two of us."

You looked up, surprised. "Dinner?"

He nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. "Yeah. To thank you for everything. And to make up for being such an idiot."

You smiled at him for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Dinner sounds nice."

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some guy gets arrested

Inspired by @medium-sized-ghost addition to the Original Post.

Masterpost

“So sorry about this, Mr. Wayne.”

“No, I understand. I’m just glad to see the law doing their job so well.” Bruce continues pleasantly through the police station with Commissioner Gordon leading the way.

“We’ll get this sorted out as soon as possible, but in the meantime you will need to unfortunately be placed in holding.”

“Of course. It’s really no problem, it was my mistake missing my court date like that. Time just gets away from me sometimes, you know?” Nevermind the fact that Bruce hadn’t even known about said court date or the speeding ticket it was for. He couldn’t prove which child had taken his car for a joy ride, but his prime suspects were Jason or Dick. (He would later find out that it was Stephanie upon a dare from Duke. He already attempted to banned them from playing Truth or Dare after Tim convinced Dick to do a handstand on Jason’s bike going 95 down the freeway. Not that Dick really needed any convincing.)

“Well you’re in luck, one cell is mostly empty.” It was a small cell closer to the front. Bruce could see a teenager laying on the bench to the right. Gordon opened the door and stood to the side so Bruce could enter and locked the door behind him. “Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

Bruce smiled, “No, thank you.” Gordon nodded and looked past Bruce at the only other occupant in the cell, “What about you kid? Anything?”

Bruce watched as the kid, one he unfortunately recognized, lifted his arm from where it was thrown over his eyes and waved it in the air at the commissioner, “I’m good.” The arm went back down. Gordon grunted, “alright Officer Mitchell is keeping watch, call out if either of you need anything.”

With that Bruce was left alone with the boy who had befuddled and befriended his many children. He sat on the opposite bench and thought about how best to approach the young man. Danny had never responded well to Batman and there was no telling how he would respond to Bruce. According to Tim, Danny actually had some respect for Bruce and the money he dumped into bettering Gotham. (When it was announced that the public library was being renovated Danny had interrogated Tim about it and then offered his own opinions on how to involve more of the general population.)

Bruce didn’t think the time called for his “Brucie” persona and he couldn’t be Batman at the moment. He could approach the boy in a “fatherly” manner but that approach rarely worked on his own kids, he didn’t think it would work on this one.

“Have you called anyone?”

Danny looked out from under his arm and stared at Bruce suspiciously. In hindsight it was a creepy question.

Bruce brought his hands up and breathed a laugh, “I’m sorry, I meant have you been given your one phone call?” Danny didn’t move. “Why? You a lawyer?” He eyed Bruce in his nice suit and watch.

Bruce smiled at the boy, “goodness no, I don’t have the attention span for law school. I actually did pre-med before dropping out.”

Danny seemed too curl a little more into himself. It was the most cautious Bruce had ever seen him. He was locked in a Gotham police cell with a man in an expensive suit who seemed completely unconcerned about being arrested, it was wise on Danny’s part to be wary.

Bruce stuck out his hand, “Bruce Wayne.” Slowly, Danny sat up and crossed his arm scoffing, “why would Bruce Wayne be in a holding cell?” Bruce continued to smile at the kid and shrugged, his hand still in the air, “speeding ticket I’m afraid, missed my court date. I do have to say, though, the updated traffic cameras are a good investment by the police department.” “Wayne Enterprises payed for them.” “We did?” Bruce asked, knowing full well it was to give Oracle better camera footage. “You were at the press release.” “Huh.” Bruce looked thoughtful for a minute, “mm no, not ringing any bells. I go to so many of those press conferences, they just bleed together after a while.” “Mhm.” Danny still didn’t take the offered hand. Bruce sighed and let it drop back to his lap, “I’d offer to show you my ID but I don’t exactly have it on me.”

They sat and watched each other for a minute. Danny shifted and seemed to make a decision, “I work at a coffee shop and one of your sons is a regular.” Bruce slapped his thigh as if a light bulb suddenly went off, “You’re Danny! Tim’s mentioned you! You know he’s the only one with a weakness for caffeine, the others like to tease him but I don’t think he has an addiction. However, he does seem to spend a lot of time at that shop.” Bruce leaned forward as if confiding a secret, “to be honest, I think he has a bit of a crush on you.”

Dropping his own arms, Danny sighed. “Yeah, he’s not really that subtle.”

“No, I’m afraid he’s never been good at that. At least not when he’s interested in someone.” Tim was great at subtlety when it came to the mission but never in his personal life. The funny part was he didn’t even draw that distinction on purpose.

“I called a family friend. To answer your question. He should be here soon.” Bruce nodded, “so you do have people you can rely on in town?” “I could have a whole family I can rely on in this city.” Danny said, catching the older man's slip. He shifts further in his seat and stared hard at Bruce.

Bruce knew Danny had no one in town. He did the background check, Danny's whole family lived in Ohio with the exception of his older sister who was in one of the top psychology programs in the country. They seemed to visit each other often but rarely their parents.

The older man dawned an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I assumed when you said ‘a family friend’.” Bruce leaned back against the wall behind him, “are you from Gotham?”

“No,” Danny shifted further back in his seat and didn’t take his eyes off Bruce.

It was different from how the boy interacted with Batman. To the billionaires alter ego Danny was defiant and outspoken. He always seemed to say what was on his mind, completely uncaring of the audience he had.

——-

“Mr. Fenton, your god-father is here for you.”

Danny never thought he’d feel this relieved to know Vlad was picking him up. While Mr. Wayne had been nothing but polite, something about the man felt off. Danny also didn’t appreciate the questions. What was it to this man if Danny had family near by or not?

One of the cops opens the door with Vlad in his nice suit and overly polished shoes right behind him.

“Daniel, let’s not make this a habit.”

“I was just feeding the homeless dogs!”

“Strays.” Vlad corrected, “while trespassing?”

Danny rolled his eyes and continued pass his “uncle”.

“How am I supposed to know an abandoned building is considered ‘private property’?”

Vlad just sighed.

——

Bonus:

Stephanie would continue to stick to her story, thank you very much. She had every right to punch the creep and she wasn’t backing down. Not even if “the creep” was apparently the son of a very influential prosecutor. A corrupt one, but he was influential nonetheless. Such is the justice system in Gotham.

Even if it landed her in a police station, handcuffed to a desk while said creep cried about the bloody nose she gave him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she crossed her legs and continued to glare at the door way that led to the holding cells. It was her night off and she still had to deal with this godforsaken city’s degenerate citizens. God forbid she have a day off.

It was while glaring at said door that Steph noticed a familiar boy walking out with a gentleman she wasn’t familiar with. He was a little behind Danny but reached out and grabbed his shoulder, stopping him just before leaving the hallway. Steph slid her gaze away but kept her ears open, grateful she was close enough to hear.

“You need to be more careful, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t respond and Steph looked over to see him pull his shoulder away and start walking again.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to bail me out. I could have called Jazz or Sam.”

“Nonsense, it’s good to get out of Wisconsin.”

Steph wrinkled her nose, Wisconsin? The pair continued out of ear shot and shortly out of the station.

When Bruce was released a few minutes later, Stephanie smiled and took great joy in his obvious (to any member of his family) despair and exasperation at seeing her.

Part 8

[moonstruckme]

hey sooooo I have a fic request for u babe! What about reader with Remus and it's like the first time she's sleeping over and she unexpectedly gets her period and she's like sorry I ruined our night I can go home and Remus is just like what?? No stay and just him soothing her through the cramps

Thank you for your request ml!

cw: period pains, mention of blood, brief allusion to mdni activities (though they truly could just have been making out if you want)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 960 words

It’s rare, this early in your relationship, that you and Remus can sit down to watch a film and actually watch it. But it seems you’re both thoroughly spent from partaking in those other activities so frequently during the day, and now you’re both just winding down for the night, waiting to see who will admit to wanting to go to bed first. 

Remus is just as content with this, your arm pressed against his and your head heavy on his shoulder, feeling your ribs expand and contract with relaxed breaths. He could get used to having you here. It’s taking more restraint than he could have imagined to keep himself from just offering you his spare key and begging you to come and go as you please. 

“Oh, shit.” 

It’s a whisper, not particularly alarmed, but the way your muscles go stiff tells Remus it’s not nothing. You sit up, taking your weight off of him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

You don’t answer him at first, squeezing your eyes shut. Your expression is one of unmistakable mortification. You look agonized. Remus tries to let you have the time you need to think, but a worm of unease eats further into his gut with every second of your silence. 

You push out an exhale that sounds laborious. When you open your eyes, there’s enough apology in them for a capital crime. Remus thinks that he’d probably forgive you if you told him you’d committed murder (and maybe that should scare him more than it does). 

“I think I’ve just stained your couch,” you admit. 

“Okay,” he says slowly. He doesn’t see the cause for such distress, but he also isn’t sure what you’re talking about. You’re not holding a drink, so how could you…oh. “Oh, is that all?” 

His nonplussed reaction doesn’t seem to affect your unease. “I’m so sorry,” you say, wincing. 

Remus tuts. “Don’t be, you can’t help it. Do you have anything with you, or do I need to nip to the store?” 

“I’ve got stuff.” You stand to get your bag, turning to grimace at where you’d been sitting on the couch. 

Remus’ reaction skews in the opposite direction. It’s only a splotch; by your response he’d been half convinced you were sitting in a veritable puddle of blood. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say again. “I’ll be right back.” 

“You’re alright, love,” Remus promises you. “Take whatever time you need.” 

While you’re in the bathroom, he addresses the stain. Truly, it’s no great hassle. With friends like his it’s hardly the first trial his couch has faced, and besides that Remus has an unusual amount of experience with getting blood out of things. 

It’s soaking when you come back, a small rag covering the spot from your view. You’ve changed into your pajamas, presumably because you’d stained your pants as well, but this is far from an unwelcome development. You look terribly cuddly. 

“You alright?” Remus asks as you come back to stand by the couch. 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat quietly. You seem suddenly timid, like a guest in his home. He wants to hug you. 

“Does it hurt?” he presses. 

Your mouth pulls to the side, which is answer enough. “A little. It’s been hurting for a while, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it this early.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He reaches for you, hiding his disappointment when you only put your hand in his. “That’s not a very nice surprise, is it?” 

“No,” you agree with a halfhearted smile. When Remus squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back, and you at least seem up to holding his gaze even if you still look sheepish. “I’m sorry to ruin our night. I can go home.” 

“What?” A bit of hurt bullies its way into Remus’ tone. Your expression changes like you’re surprised to hear it. “No, I think you should stay.” 

You look hesitant, so he tries again, gentler this time. 

“I mean, if you’re hurting and you want to be in your own home, I understand,” Remus says, “but I hope you’re not leaving on my account. I’d like for you to be here.” 

You watch his face as though looking for discrepancies. “Really?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says earnestly. “Of course I’d love to keep you. Getting your period doesn’t change anything, except that now you’re in pain and I’d like even more for you to stay so I can be with you.” 

The muscles around your eyes relax, your expression softening into something so tender Remus feels his own heart turn to mush. 

He gives your hand a little tug, and you take the cue, sitting back down on the couch between his open legs. 

“Can I put my hand here?” he asks you, touching your stomach. 

“Sure,” you say, still somewhat timidly. You take his hand in yours, moving it down a couple inches until his fingers are skimming the soft fabric of your pajama bottoms. “But it’s more like here.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I put my hand there?” 

With your nod, Remus slips his hand beneath your waistband, to that plush stretch of skin between your belly button and your panty line. He presses down gently. 

“Oh.” Your body goes lax. 

Remus chuckles, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder. “That helps?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh contentedly. “A lot, actually. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He pushes on a tense spot experimentally, rewarded when you sink further into his front. “Just don’t try to run out on me the next time something like this comes up, yeah?” 

You agree readily. “Mhm. I wouldn’t have, if I’d known this was going to happen.” 

Remus smudges another kiss onto your shoulder, smug. “Just remember this then, I suppose.” 

[saetoru]

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

[chestersturniolo]

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚based on chris saying on stream that he can never go to sleep on an argument ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The argument with Chris had been brewing for days, and tonight it finally erupted. It all started when he came home late. Again. The third time this week. You’d been waiting, dinner cold on the table, frustration simmering.

“Do you even care that I’m here waiting for you?” you asked, your voice laced with hurt. “You didn’t even call, Chris”

“I had to finish filming, I’m sorry I can’t just drop everything because dinner’s ready” he mocked with a fake sincerity.

“That’s not the point-” you said, feeling your anger rising. 

“-It’s not about dinner. It’s about you not letting me know, about making me feel like I don’t matter”

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. It’s just been a crazy week. Can’t you cut me some slack?”

“Cut you some slack?-” you echoed,

“-You’re always busy, always too tired, and I’m supposed to just sit here and wait for you to make time for me? I’m tired of feeling like I’m at the bottom of your list!”

“That’s not fair-” Chris shot back, his tone sharpening. 

“-You know how important my job is. I’m doing this for us, to build a future, but you make it sound like I’m just ignoring you!”

“Well, it sure feels like it!” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. 

Chris fell silent, the tension thick between you. Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, you stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You paced back and forth, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. Eventually, the emotional exhaustion snowballed into physical exhaustion. You got ready for bed whilst you replayed the argument over in your head.

As you crawled under the covers,the bed felt too big, too empty. You turned off the light, hoping sleep would come quickly and take you away from the mess of the evening.

As you lay in the quiet, you could still hear the faint sound of the TV from the living room where Chris had stayed. The space beside you a reminder of the widening gap between you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, and slowly, sleep began to take over.

Sometime later, Chris came into his room, and carefully climbed in beside you. He moved gently, clearly trying not to wake you, but his restless tossing and turning made you stir slightly. After a few minutes, he gave up, sitting up with a heavy sigh.

Then, with a gentle touch, he brushed your cheek, his thumb warm against your skin. 

“Hey-” he whispered, his voice thick with regret as you opened your eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. 

“-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, but I can’t… I can’t go to sleep like this”

The memory of your argument came rushing back, and you felt the anger flare up again. But before you could say anything, Chris continued, his voice urgent, almost desperate.

“I know I messed up-” he said, leaning closer, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. 

“-I’ve been so caught up in work that I’ve been neglecting you, and I hate that I made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. You’re the most important thing in my life”

His words were raw, filled with a vulnerability that you rarely saw in him. He reached for your hand, holding it tightly as if afraid you might pull away.

“Please-“ he whispered, his voice cracking. 

“-I know I need to do better. I just… I can’t stand the thought of us going to bed angry. I can’t go to sleep knowing you’re upset with me ma”

You sighed, your heart heavy. The pain of the argument still lingered, but there was no denying the sincerity in his voice. Chris wasn’t the type to beg, and seeing him like this made the anger start to fall away.

“I don’t want to fight either” you finally said, your voice thick with emotion. 

“But I need you to understan-”

“I do” he said quickly, nodding. 

“I’m sorry” he whispers, brushing his thumb across your hand that is still placed in his. Before gently pulling away and laying back down beside you. 

Chris opens one of his arms in the air hesitantly, a silent invite into his embrace. With a small sigh, you scooted over, laying your head onto his chest. You let him hold you, the warmth of his body gradually soothing the last of your anger.

“i love you y/n” Chris mumbles into your hair as he places a kiss to the top of your head.

“i love you” you whisper, letting sleep take over once more. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

A/N; hope you enjoyed lovessss

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- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

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[amourane]

so this is love

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.7k

summary: there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

warnings: none!

a/n: i honestly love this so much and it's so so sooo cute!

Theodore Nott was many things. Quiet, judgmental, emotionless and most importantly handsome. One of the prettiest boys in Hogwarts yet the most unapproachable. No one had ever seen a smile grace his lips and if you had tried to converse with the Slytherin he would only stare at you with blank eyes waiting for you to go away. He spoke little words but it was enough for people to get the point. Unlike his rowdy group of friends, he wouldn’t merrily join in conversation, rather make snarky remarks every now and then, an uninterested look always on his face. A scowl or a smirk always tugged at his lips as he listened to what his friends had to say. 

Even though Theo never voiced his thoughts out loud he always knew what to think. His mind was constantly running at a hundred miles per hour. Every little thing he wanted to say flitted through his mind. It was as if his head was a cacophonous symphony. 

Yet as he looked at the girl in yellow robes his mind was oddly quiet. He watched her silently as she dropped her ingredients into her cauldron. It was a rare moment. One he had discovered a month ago when he had finished his potion early and looked around to see if anyone else was done. There you were. Eyes scanning the contents of your Potion’s book but it was quite clear you had finished brewing whatever was in your cauldron as you leaned back into your seat. 

Theo’s mind was silent. 

There were no thoughts, no opinions, no judgments. He stared at you and it made him uneasy. There was something about you that unnerved him. He didn’t recall you from his other classes and it was the first time he had even seen you in Potions. As he felt the comforting silence settle in his head he concluded one thing - you were interesting and he was going to keep an eye on you.

“Nott, mate, what are you doing? I’ve been asking you to pass me a quill for about a century, have you suddenly gone deaf?” Blaise nudged Theo out of his trance and the brunette blinked for a second before passing over a quill. His partner frowned before following where his eyeline previously was and he smirked. “Still obsessing over the little Hufflepuff I see. Who knew you were capable of having feelings.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

“I never said you did.” Blaise’s smirk widened. “You came up with that on your own.”

Theo felt his face heat up. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like you, not in the slightest. He was merely fascinated at how you were able to turn his manic mind into a state of tranquillity. He looked over. You were talking to your partner beside you and Theo assumed she had said something funny because a grin had overtaken your pretty features and a giggle slipped past your lips. Theo didn’t fancy you but he couldn’t deny that you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

//

“He’s staring again.” Hannah said as she poked your side to get your attention. “It’s like he’s drilling holes into your skull. Do you think he wants to hex you?”

You looked up from your cauldron with a frown as you faced your friend. “He doesn’t stare at me, don’t be silly Hannah. I’m sure he has a reason for looking this way.”

“Y/n you’re terrible at finding excuses for anything. It’s so obvious he’s looking at you and his glare is starting to scare me a bit.” 

Behind your fellow Hufflepuff was Theodore Nott. Your eyes glaze over his perfectly tousled hair and his dark coloured eyes. He really was handsome. You watch as he says something to Blaise and you see a tint of pink touch his cheeks. Cute. You smiled to yourself. Merlin, he was really cute.

Theodore Nott had been watching you for a few weeks now and you weren’t oblivious enough to not notice the Slytherin’s gaze. At first you didn’t know how to react when you first felt his eyes on you. It was weird. Every time you would turn around he would already be looking down at his piece of parchment, scribbling something down with his quill. You had never caught him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. The piercing feeling of his stare made goosebumps rise on your skin. In a way you found it endearing. Sometimes you would turn around and find him, nose deep in his textbook and you could faintly see the tips of his ears blush red. It was those times you would giggle to yourself. 

It was arrogant to assume that Theo felt that way about you but for some reason you couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the thought he might. That someone like him would even think about going out with someone like you. That the cutest guy in your year would fancy you. Then reality came crashing back and you knew that a Slytherin would never be seen with a Hufflepuff much less date one.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n? You still there?” Hannah waved her hand in front of your face. “Merlin, one mention of Nott and you go all dreamy on me. When are you going to ask him out then?”

Your cheeks flared up with heat and you couldn’t help a smile that tugs at your lips. “Shush Hannah.” You try to sound serious but with your blushing face and bright grin it’s hard to do so.

“You’re actually whipped, Y/n.” Hannah let out a laugh and you let a giggle slip past your lips at her statement. You didn’t feel the need to deny it after all, maybe it held some truth. 

//

Theodore Nott always knew what to say and when but as he stood in front of you he found himself speechless. Now as his eyes wandered over your delicate hands and beautiful face he couldn’t find the words that needed to be said. His mind was quiet again. Silence. He opened his mouth to apologise for bumping into you and nearly knocking you over but no words came out. So he did the next best thing, help you grab your books.

You were scrambling to grab scrap pieces of parchment that had escaped the grasps of your books and Theo grabbed the Herbology textbook you had dropped. He watched as you gathered your things before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled and he felt his heart stop. Suddenly it was as if he was being engulfed in a tidal wave. There was a twinkle in your eyes and it set off a spark in his chest that he didn’t know was there. Theo felt himself grow hot as you stared at him and for the first time in his life he felt self conscious.

“Thank you.” You said and he felt his ears ring as your voice echoed through his mind. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was in a rush to get to my next class. I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

A beat passed.

Theo blinked. He watched as your bright expression slowly morphed into one of concern. He watched as you reached out to touch his arm.

“Theodore?”

“It’s Theo.” Is the only thing he can think to say before he realised how it must’ve sounded rude. “But you can call me Theodore. I don't mind.”

Another beat passed.

The two of you were now standing in the middle of the hallway as other students passed by. Theo could hear their whispers as they looked. The curious eyes wondering what a Slytherin could possibly be talking to a Hufflepuff about. For a second Theo thinks he’s upset you and you’re going to storm off but he’s proven wrong. The bright smile returned to your face.

“Well Theo, I’m going to need my Herbology textbook back, I’ve already been late twice this week.” 

“O-Oh yes right, sorry I forgot.”

Theodore Nott has never once stumbled over his words. Yet as he stood in front of you he found himself wrapped in a world he had never known before. He felt himself grow even warmer and he reached a hand to loosen the emerald tie around his neck. This was unlike him. He never went speechless, he never struggled to find a smart quip or retort and he most definitely never stuttered. You brought out a side to him that was new and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.

“Thank you for helping me Theo, I’ll see you in Potions.” You waved goodbye as you hurried off down the hallway. 

Theo’s eyes remained glued onto your frame as you ran. A rising bubbly feeling began in his chest and he felt his heart quicken. He gulped. You had long disappeared from his view but he still felt a burning sensation on his cheeks and he tried to cool himself down with his hands but it served no use. Giving up, he turned away and marched down the hall determined to figure out whatever he was feeling.

//

“You know staring at her won’t make her your girlfriend Nott.” Mattheo smirked as he watched his best friend. The others at the Slytherin table tittered with laughter and Theo rolled his eyes. He was now used to his friend’s teasing and even though it was relentless he didn’t pay any attention to it. Why would he? It wasn’t true anyway.

“Very funny Riddle.”

“You know me Theo, always the jokester.” He winked as he sipped the pumpkin juice in his cup.

“But seriously Theo you should ask her out if you like the girl. Salazar, it's better than drilling holes in the back of her head.” 

“Pansy’s right Nott, we’re all tired of you mooning over the girl just go ask her out already and then the two of you can go snog in the broom cupboard.” Draco snickered and the other Slytherins erupted into another round of laughter.

“Well you’ve got it all wrong I don’t fancy her.” Theo looked at his friends with a scowl present on his face. “She makes me feel all these things and I hate it. I hate how different it is. I hate how quiet everything gets when I look at her. I hate how she makes me feel and it’s all horrible and downright disgusting. It’s like I’ve got a fever whenever I’m around her and I’ve somehow contracted some life-threatening heart disease. My mouth dries up and I stumble over what I say and it’s not like me at all. So no, you’ve all got it wrong because I don't fancy her.”

With that Theo leaves the table, dinner untouched, with red cheeks and a rapidly beating heart. His friends watched dumbfounded as their friend trudged away. They all exchange knowing glances before shaking their heads at his obliviousness to his own feelings.

“That guy seriously needs to realise that sometimes not being an emotionless prick isn’t going to kill him.” Pansy dug into her beef as she scoffed at her friend’s stupidity.

Unbeknownst to the Slytherins a certain Hufflepuff was watching as their friend stormed off, her eyes never once leaving his ruby red face and the angry glare that accompanied it. She excused herself from her table before slipping away to follow a certain brunette.

//

Annoyance was the main thing that Theodore Nott felt at the moment. Anger at the persistence that he had a crush on you when he didn’t, he knew he didn’t. You had cast some sort of spell on him. Some sort of hex that made him notice every little bit about you. The way your smile lit up the room, the way your laughter echoed in his mind like the happy tinkering of a bell. Every second he saw you it was as if you overtook his senses. Clouding his sight with your beauty, suffocating him with your sweet scent, muffling his ravenous thoughts until everything was calm. 

When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt an overwhelming emotion, one that he couldn’t explain, but it made his hectic thoughts still and as cheesy as it sounded it made time itself stand still. When Theodore Nott looked at you he noticed every fine small detail like the way you like to smile at yourself whenever you get a question right or the way you tap your fingers on the desk when you’re concentrating. When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt his heart soar and he isn’t used to feeling this unnatural emotion that had been brewing inside of him.

He didn’t even notice you were behind him until he heard your voice. Soft and gentle and kind. He spun around. You had a look of concern etched upon your face and you stepped closer towards him and he backed away feeling his heart quicked once again. He glared at you hoping that his stare would force you to go away and would force whatever he was feeling to disappear.

“Are you okay Theo? I saw you leave and you didn’t touch your food, did something happen?”

You were so caring, so nice, so calm. You were so many things and Theo couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take looking at you when he could hear his heart pumping. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, backing away further.

You frowned. “I haven’t done anything Theo. Are you sure you’re okay you look quite red and-”

“You’re lying.” He seethed. “You’re lying because why are you making me feel these things? Why does my mind go quiet, my thoughts stop, the words fail? There’s no explanation to this. I don’t understand why my heart races and everything suddenly feels hotter around me. I don’t understand this feeling I have inside me, some magnetic force that keeps pulling me to you. You’re everywhere Y/n.”

His glare intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. “I look at you and I feel things I’ve never felt before, this bubbly warm feeling. Whenever I’m around you I can’t think of what to say. I close my eyes and I see your smile, your eyes. I can hear your laughter even if we’re in the noisiest classroom. You’re everywhere Y/n. So tell me, what have you done to me?”

A beat of silence.

The both of you stare at each other. Your frown had long gone and now you simply looked at the Slytherin in front of you trying to decipher his anger.

“It’s love Theo.” You take a step closer. “All the things you’ve just said - it’s love.”

Theo froze. His expression remained stony yet his eyes betrayed his thoughts as he looked away for a second. He blinked before looking at you once again. Your eyes, the eyes he couldn’t help but notice everywhere he went, looked back at him. His mind was no longer quiet. An outbreak of noise erupted inside his head and he struggled to grasp what was going on. He couldn’t focus. All he could hear was his own voice in his mind, overlapping, shouting, screaming, crying. It all came crashing down and Theo didn’t know what to do.

Then your lips collided with his and he stilled. The noise died down. Chaos ceased. Theo let his eyes flutter shut as he kissed you back with fervour. Your lips were soft and you tasted sweet like strawberries. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you were warm as you leaned into his touch. He felt your arms tangle in his hair and he smiled at the feeling. This felt right. This didn’t feel weird or disgusting. It was something he never thought he would feel. 

The both of you broke apart and you blinked looking at Theo with your beautiful eyes. His heart continued to race. You beamed up at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. You were so pretty, so gorgeous and you had just kissed him. His mind was finally quiet again. The strange feeling that filled his body now didn’t feel so foreign at all in fact it felt natural as he gazed at you.

“It’s love Theodore Nott. That’s what you feel.” You give him another kiss. “And it’s what I feel too.”

Theodore Nott was many things but as he closed his eyes to kiss you once again there is only one thing that he wants to be - in love with you.

[writeriguess]

Can you write a little story with Katsuki falling for the daughter( she’s very shy and a little nervous about Katsuki) of his mothers best friend?

Love your work

You sat quietly in the corner of the living room, legs tucked under you on the plush armchair, pretending to scroll through your phone. The soft hum of conversation between your mother and Mitsuki Bakugou, her lifelong friend, filled the room. You didn't mind visiting the Bakugou household, not really, but the fact that he was there always made your heart race. Katsuki Bakugou, the explosive hero-in-training, was hard to ignore. He had an undeniable presence—one that made you both nervous and curious.

You caught a glimpse of him sitting at the dining table, arms crossed, head slightly tilted in disinterest as he half-listened to the conversation his mother and yours were having. His crimson eyes, though seemingly unfocused, made you shiver. You wondered what he was thinking, if he ever noticed you. It was hard to tell with him, and that made your heart pound even harder.

It wasn't like you were close. In fact, you two rarely talked. Growing up, you were always too shy to approach him. Katsuki was loud, brash, and often intimidating. You, on the other hand, were the opposite—quiet, reserved, and a bit socially awkward. It felt like the gap between your personalities was too wide to bridge.

Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered whenever you were around him.

"Y/N," your mother's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Why don't you go help Katsuki in the kitchen? He’s preparing the tea."

Your stomach did a nervous flip. “O-Oh, uh—sure,” you stammered, getting to your feet before you could think of an excuse. You felt Mitsuki’s sharp eyes on you, likely amused by your hesitation, and you hurried toward the kitchen to escape the scrutiny.

When you stepped into the kitchen, you saw Katsuki standing by the counter, pouring boiling water into a teapot. His broad back was facing you, his muscles rippling under his shirt, and for a moment, you froze in place. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the familiar anxiety creep in.

“Um… they told me to help,” you managed to mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

Katsuki turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. His expression was unreadable as always. He didn’t say anything for a second, and you started to feel like you’d made a mistake coming in.

“Tch. Don’t just stand there,” he finally muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh, just... Katsuki. “You can bring the cups.”

You blinked in surprise, relieved that he wasn’t scowling at you. “O-Okay.” You moved toward the cupboard, hands slightly trembling as you pulled out the teacups. You tried to steady your breathing, but being in such close proximity to him made it difficult.

The silence between you two stretched on as you placed the cups on the tray. Katsuki finished with the teapot and placed it beside the cups, his movements precise and quick.

“I-I didn’t know you could make tea,” you said, breaking the silence. It felt awkward standing there without saying anything, and you were curious—Katsuki didn’t seem like the type to do something so… domestic.

He scoffed lightly, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “What, you think I’m some kind of idiot who can’t even make tea?”

“N-No! I just… um…” You fumbled over your words, your face heating up with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Katsuki let out a soft “tch” but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as he looked at you. You felt your face flush under his intense gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, making it impossible to hide your nervousness.

“You’re always like this, y’know?” he said suddenly, catching you off guard.

“L-Like what?” You could feel your heart racing, confused by his comment.

“Shy. Nervous.” He said it bluntly, without malice, as if he were stating a simple fact. “You act like you’re scared of me or something.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was it really that obvious? You had always tried to hide your nervousness around him, but it seemed like Katsuki was sharper than you gave him credit for.

“I-I’m not scared of you,” you said quickly, though even you could hear the uncertainty in your voice.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Yeah, right. You barely even look at me when we’re in the same room.”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. “It’s not that I’m scared, I just… I don’t know how to talk to you,” you admitted quietly. “You’re always so… confident. And loud.”

To your surprise, Katsuki didn’t get angry or defensive. He simply stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Tch. You think I don’t notice you?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “You’ve been coming over here since we were kids. Always hiding in the background, like you don’t belong.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. Did he really notice you all this time?

“I… I didn’t think you cared,” you said honestly. “You’re always so focused on being a hero, and I’m just… well, I’m nothing special.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he pushed himself off the counter, taking a step closer to you. You felt your breath hitch as he closed the distance between you, his presence overwhelming.

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly, his voice low. “You’re not nothing.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. You had never seen this side of him before—so serious, so… sincere. It was like the rough edges of his personality had softened, if only for a moment.

“You think I’m some kinda idiot who can’t see what’s in front of me?” Katsuki continued, his gaze never leaving yours. “I noticed you, Y/N. Every damn time. You don’t have to act like you’re scared of me.”

Your face felt like it was on fire now, and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “I-I just didn’t think you… cared,” you repeated, your voice barely audible.

Katsuki let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re dense, you know that?” He sounded exasperated, but there was no bite to his words.

Before you could respond, you felt his fingers gently brush against your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself staring into those intense crimson eyes, so close now that you could see the subtle flicker of emotion behind them.

“I care more than you think,” Katsuki murmured, his voice so quiet that it sent a shiver down your spine. “So stop acting like you’re scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you felt charged with something you couldn’t quite describe—something that made your pulse quicken and your nerves fade away, if only for a moment.

“I-I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “Not anymore.”

Katsuki smirked, a rare, almost soft expression on his face. “Good,” he said, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheek before he pulled away, giving you space to breathe again. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

As he turned to grab the tray of tea, you stood there, heart racing, trying to process what had just happened. For the first time, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was more to Katsuki Bakugou than the tough, explosive exterior he showed the world.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t so afraid of him after all.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.