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cloudyluun · 2 months ago

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Ruin me, Love me, Lose me| fratboy&playboy!harry

Summary: You hate Harry Styles. Or at least, you really, really want to. He’s the frat house king, the campus playboy, the smug asshole who always has a girl (or three) in his bed. You swear you’ll never be one of them.

And then one night, you kiss him.

And then another night, you sleep with him.

And then suddenly, you’re tangled in his sheets, in his arms, in his world, telling yourself it means nothing.

Until it does.

Wordt Count: 5k

A/N: Ah, yes. Another classic case of let’s make this as toxic as possible but pretend it’s fine because the tension is hot. This was supposed to be a slow burn, and then my brain said, “What if they suffered immediately instead?” Anyway, enjoy the angst, the mess, and the self-inflicted emotional damage. Love you, mean it. 💔 Based on this request!

Warnings:

Smut (18+ only)

Toxic relationships

Angst (like, a lot)

Jealousy & possessiveness

Alcohol use

Slight degradation & rough moments

Heartbreak (sorry in advance)

Some emotional whiplash

Questionable life choices

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The party is suffocating.

It reeks of stale beer, sweat, and something obnoxiously expensive, probably the cologne of some guy who thinks dousing himself in Tom Ford will make up for his complete lack of personality. Bodies are packed together like sardines, moving in drunken waves, grinding against each other to the bass-heavy music blasting from the speakers.

You feel completely out of place.

And honestly? You couldn’t give less of a fuck.

The only reason you’re here is because your best friend practically dragged you. Come on, she had pleaded, hands clasped together like she was making a sacred vow. You never go out, you never have fun, and I swear to God, if you don’t start acting like a college student at least once, I’m going to lose my mind.

So, against your better judgment, you let her shove you into a dress and apply a little makeup, hyping you up like this was going to be some life-changing experience. Spoiler alert: it’s not. It’s exactly what you expected: obnoxiously loud, unbearably sweaty, and full of people who are so wrapped up in their own egos that they wouldn’t notice if the house caught fire.

You’ve only been here for an hour, and you already want to leave.

You retreat to the kitchen, seeking some kind of escape. It’s quieter here, if only marginally. The countertops are littered with half-empty cups and sticky spills that no one will bother cleaning up. A couple is making out against the fridge like they’re in a fucking movie, completely unbothered by the fact that people are walking around them.

And then there’s him.

Harry Styles.

You don’t have to look directly at him to know he’s there, you feel his presence before you even see him. It’s like the air shifts when he walks into a room, demanding attention without even trying. He’s exactly the kind of guy you can’t stand: arrogant, entitled, and so used to getting his way that he probably doesn’t even remember the last time someone told him no.

Everyone here worships him.

It’s disgusting.

You finally glance up, and there he is, standing just a few feet away, leaning lazily against the counter like he owns the place. He’s wearing all black—ripped jeans, an unbuttoned shirt that shows off just enough tattoos to make girls swoon, and a smirk that tells you he knows exactly how good he looks.

His eyes flicker toward you, and in an instant, you know exactly what’s coming.

“Y’look like you hate it here, sweetheart.”

His voice is smooth, like whiskey on ice, laced with just enough amusement to let you know he finds this entertaining.

You exhale sharply, unimpressed. “That’s because I do.”

Instead of being deterred, his smirk deepens, like he finds your resistance amusing. He steps closer—not enough to be invasive, but enough to make it clear that he’s testing you, waiting to see how you’ll react.

“Then why are you here?” he asks, cocking his head slightly.

You don’t take the bait.

Instead, you roll your eyes, brushing past him with a dry, “Because some of us actually care about our friends.”

You expect that to be the end of it. Guys like Harry don’t waste time on girls who aren’t immediately fawning over them. He could have any girl in this house—hell, most of them would kill for the chance.

But he doesn’t let it go.

He follows.

And when you turn to glance back at him, you find his green eyes locked onto you like a predator stalking its prey.

It’s a look you’ve seen before—the kind that says he’s intrigued, that you’ve just become a challenge.

And you know, without a doubt, that Harry Styles never walks away from a challenge.

You should have seen it coming.

From that night on, it becomes a game to him—one you never agreed to play.

He makes it his personal mission to get under your skin, to test your patience at every opportunity. It’s not obvious at first, just small things that could almost be coincidental. A glance held for a second too long. A smirk thrown your way when you pass each other on campus. An overheard comment about some girl he hooked up with the night before, loud enough that he knows you’ll hear.

You don’t care.

(You do.)

But you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

The second run-in happens at another party, because of course it does.

This time, you arrive more prepared—mentally, at least. You’ve made peace with the fact that these events are unavoidable, that your best friend will always drag you to them, that the college social scene is a relentless cycle of alcohol-fueled chaos. You can survive a couple of hours. You’ll drink just enough to take the edge off, then find a way to slip out before midnight.

It’s a decent plan.

Until you see him.

He’s lounging on the frat house couch like it’s a fucking throne, an arm draped lazily over the backrest, legs spread wide in a way that’s both infuriating and devastatingly attractive. He’s surrounded by girls—of course he is—all of them leaning in, waiting for his attention, laughing too loudly at things he hasn’t even said.

You roll your eyes and turn away.

You don’t care.

(You do.)

You tell yourself you’re imagining it, but you can feel his eyes on you as you move through the party, can sense the smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t call you over, doesn’t make a scene—he doesn’t have to. The air shifts when he’s near, gravity bending in his favor.

And then, just when you think you’ve escaped unscathed—

“Y’keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart.”

The words send a sharp, unwelcome shiver down your spine.

You scoff before you even turn around, willing yourself to appear unaffected. “As if.”

His grin deepens, slow and lazy, like he enjoys watching you squirm.

You hate that it works.

You hate that the sharp cut of his jawline and the teasing glint in his eyes make your stomach twist in ways that aren’t entirely rooted in hatred.

You refuse to play his game.

You take a step back, ready to leave, but before you can—

His hand catches your wrist.

It’s not forceful, just firm enough to make you pause.

And then he leans in.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, close enough that his voice drops into something dark and slow, something meant only for you.

“You sure about that?”

The scent of whiskey and expensive cologne wraps around you like a noose, tightening around your resolve.

You rip yourself away from him, but it’s too late.

Your body has already betrayed you.

And it will again.

Another night. Another party.

By now, you should have learned your lesson. But somehow, you always end up here—another crowded house, another room filled with drunken laughter and cheap beer, another encounter with him.

It’s inevitable.

You don’t even know how it starts this time. It’s not some grand moment, not some life-altering realization. It’s just him—pushing, teasing, testing. Like he always does.

You’re in the kitchen again, arms crossed, a drink in your hand that you’ve barely touched. You’ve been avoiding him for most of the night, keeping your distance, but it doesn’t matter. He finds you anyway.

He always does.

“Y’gonna keep ignoring me all night?”

You don’t even look up. “That was the plan.”

A low chuckle, the kind that makes your stomach clench. “M’not that easy to ignore, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, he’s right.

You take a slow sip of your drink, willing yourself to remain unaffected. “Try me.”

And that’s all it takes. That single challenge.

His eyes spark with something dark and dangerous. His smirk sharpens. And then—

“You act like you hate me,” he murmurs, stepping in closer, “but we both know that’s not true.”

Your fingers tighten around your glass.

“It is.”

“Liar.”

You finally look up at him, glaring. “Go to hell, Harry.”

He grins, cocky and infuriating. “Take me there yourself.”

And then—

It happens.

Fast.

Too fast.

One second, you’re standing there, glaring at him. The next, his lips are on yours.

There’s no hesitation, no slow build-up, no moment to think. Just heat.

His hands are in your hair, fingers tangling, tugging. Your back meets the nearest wall, the cold surface a shocking contrast to the fire raging between you.

It’s rough. Desperate.

You should stop.

You should.

But his body is pressed against yours, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except feel.

Your fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline. His hands slide down, tracing over your hips, pulling you in like he can’t get close enough.

And maybe he can’t.

Maybe you can’t.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His lips are swollen, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he says, voice low, wrecked. “And I’ll stop.”

Your lips part.

To say what?

To tell the truth?

But before you can, before you even know what you want to say—

Your hands fist in his shirt.

And you crash into him all over again.

You pull away first, gasping for breath, your chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven movements. Reality slams into you like a freight train, but Harry doesn’t move. He watches you, his pupils blown, lips parted, his breath warm as it ghosts over your face. His hands are still on you—one firm at your waist, the other curled loosely around the nape of your neck. Holding you in place.

Like he’s afraid you’ll run.

Like he knows you want to.

A smirk tugs at his mouth, something smug and knowing. “Told you,” he murmurs, his voice rough, dark, like he’s just swallowed gravel. “You don’t hate me.”

You should.

You should hate him. You should push him away, put an ocean of space between you before this turns into something irreversible. Something you can’t take back.

But your body betrays you before your mind can catch up.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt instead of letting go. Your legs feel weak, but you’re not sure if it’s from the adrenaline or the way he’s looking at you. His green eyes flicker in the dim lighting, unreadable, but there’s something behind them—something waiting, something burning.

Something dangerous.

“This is a mistake,” you whisper, the words shaky, uncertain. You don’t even know if you believe them.

His thumb drags along your jaw, featherlight, and his lips barely, barely graze yours when he speaks. “Maybe.”

That single word is enough to send your stomach into freefall. Maybe. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Maybe you’re going to regret this the second the sun comes up.

Or maybe you won’t.

Maybe you’ll regret it more if you stop now.

Maybe that’s what terrifies you the most.

Your body makes the decision for you.

His fingers slide down your wrist, tracing the delicate skin there before his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like they belong there.

And you let him take you.

The party behind you becomes a distant blur—flashes of neon lights, the thud of bass vibrating through the floor, drunken laughter echoing from downstairs. It all feels like it’s happening in another universe, detached from this moment. From him. From you.

Each step up the stairs feels heavier than the last, weighted with unspoken words, with history, with everything you’ve been pretending isn’t still there. The heat of his palm against yours sends sparks up your spine, and you squeeze your thighs together, ignoring the ache building in your stomach.

You don’t stop.

Not when you reach the landing.

Not when he leads you down the darkened hallway, past closed doors, past muffled voices, past all the chances you could have taken to turn back.

And not when he pushes open a door, guiding you inside.

Then—

The door clicks shut behind you.

The world disappears.

The second the lock turns, something inside you snaps.

There’s no hesitation this time. No second-guessing. No thinking. Just feeling.

Then he’s on you.

His mouth crashes into yours, rough and insistent, swallowing the gasp that slips from your lips. The kiss is nothing like the ones you’ve shared in the past—those were controlled, careful, measured. This? This is raw. Hungry. Starving.

His hands find your waist, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the way his chest heaves, the way his heartbeat slams against your own. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply, and he groans into your mouth, his grip tightening, like he’s trying to pull you even closer, like he wants to crawl inside you.

You barely have time to process before your back hits the wall.

You gasp at the contact, but he doesn’t let up. His lips trail down your jaw, hot and desperate, and when his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear, a sharp whimper escapes before you can stop it.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping at your thighs, hitching them around his waist like he can’t stand the thought of any space between you.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your hands push his jacket off his shoulders, and he shrugs out of it without breaking contact. Your fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt, but he beats you to it, ripping it open in one swift motion, buttons scattering to the floor.

Then his skin is against yours, and it sends a shockwave through your entire body.

Heat pools low in your stomach, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every brush of his hands, every press of his lips, every ragged breath against your skin.

Clothes disappear—hurried, impatient.

Your dress slips down your shoulders, pooling at your feet. His belt clinks as he unfastens it, the sound cutting through the heavy air like a gunshot.

You don’t stop him.

You don’t want to.

His hands grip your thighs again, lifting you effortlessly, and your legs tighten around him. You can feel him—hard, straining against the fabric still separating you.

There’s a pause, just for a second.

A breath.

His forehead presses against yours, his lips barely touching, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to ground himself. His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

Instead, you kiss him again.

And there’s no turning back now.

His body presses against yours, firm and unrelenting, as he walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t let go. His hands are still gripping your thighs, still holding you against him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

Then he lowers you onto the bed.

The world tilts, and the air thickens as he leans over you, his weight bracing against his arms, caging you beneath him. His eyes flicker across your face—like he’s memorizing every inch, every breath, every little way you react to him. His fingers trace up your side, slow and teasing, and the way you shudder makes his lips twitch.

“Still think this is a mistake?” he taunts, voice low and rough as his lips brush against your collarbone.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t answer. You don’t have to. The way your fingers clutch at his back, the way your hips shift beneath him, the way your body is already arching into his touch—it’s all the answer he needs.

He smirks against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

Then he stops talking.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

It’s messy. Desperate. The kind of passion that comes from months of unresolved tension, from too much history, from too many things left unsaid.

He kisses you like he’s trying to claim you. Like he’s trying to burn himself into your skin. Like if he kisses you hard enough, you’ll never be able to forget this—forget him.

His hands are everywhere. Exploring. Learning. Worshipping.

Every brush of his lips, every drag of his fingers, every slow roll of his hips is deliberate, pulling you apart piece by piece. He takes his time, but not too much time—because patience is a luxury neither of you have tonight.

You feel like you’re unraveling beneath him.

He notices.

He thrives on it.

His mouth moves lower, teeth grazing, tongue soothing. His fingers leave fire in their wake as they trail down your body, mapping out every inch, every soft curve, every sharp gasp he pulls from your lips.

It’s intoxicating, the way he touches you—like he already knows what you need before you do.

He whispers your name against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your hands are greedy, desperate as they roam over him—his shoulders, his chest, the firm muscles in his back. You want to touch all of him. Feel all of him.

And he lets you.

He lets you pull him closer, lets you tangle your legs around his, lets you drag your nails down his spine, leaving behind faint, red lines that he’ll wear like battle scars tomorrow.

The room is filled with nothing but heavy breathing, quiet moans, the rustle of sheets, the sound of skin against skin.

And when it finally happens—when he finally, finally gives you what you both need—it steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s not slow. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet.

It’s raw.

It’s rough, desperate, punishing. It’s weeks of tension snapping all at once, a storm breaking, waves crashing, a fire finally given the air it needs to burn.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, like a curse, like something you were never supposed to say out loud.

He groans, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head. His body moves against yours in perfect rhythm—pushing, pulling, giving, taking.

It’s the kind of night that changes things.

The kind you won’t be able to take back.

The kind that leaves its mark.

And then—

Stillness.

Silence.

Just the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, filling the space between you.

His body is still pressed against yours, warm and solid and grounding. The weight of what just happened settles in, thick and undeniable.

You should get up.

You should leave.

But you don’t.

Instead, you stay.

Just for a little longer.

But "a little longer" turns into something else entirely.

Because it doesn’t stop at one night.

It should have. You tell yourself that over and over again. That night—the way his hands fit so perfectly against your skin, the way he pulled you apart and put you back together, the way his mouth made you forget your own name—it should have been enough. A single mistake. A one-time thing.

But it isn’t.

It’s never just once.

It happens again. And again. And again.

It’s always late. Always secret.

Always a text, a glance across the room, a lingering touch when no one is watching. Always a whispered come here against the shell of your ear, a door clicking shut behind you, a tangle of limbs in the dark.

It’s never soft. Never sweet.

It’s fast, desperate, all-consuming.

It’s hands fisting sheets, breathless moans swallowed into pillows. His body pressed against yours, heavy and unrelenting, holding you down, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And he knows what he’s doing to you.

He’s filthy, cocky, teasing—he draws it out just to make you beg.

“Knew you’d be so fuckin’ sweet for me, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough, wicked, smug.

His rings feel cold against your burning skin as his fingers trail down your stomach, between your thighs, spreading you open like a secret. Like something meant only for him.

You bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

He chuckles, dark and knowing.

“This what you hate me for? Hm?” His lips brush against your jaw, down your throat, his breath hot and taunting. “’Cause I make you come harder than anyone else ever could?”

You hate him.

(You don’t.)

You hate that he’s right. That he knows he’s right. That he’s so good at this—at ruining you, at making you fall apart over and over again until you can’t think straight, until all you know is him. His name. His touch. His body moving against yours.

And every time, you tell yourself it’s the last.

That this is it. That you’re done.

That this means nothing.

And every time, you end up back in his bed.

But then you see him with someone else.

It’s late, the party is loud, and the music thrums through your body, drowning out everything else. You’re just stepping out for air when you spot him across the street. A girl is clinging to his arm, laughing at something he’s said, and his hand is low on her back as he leads her toward a car.

He doesn’t even look at you.

Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even pretend to care that you’re standing right there, watching him disappear into the night with someone else.

And it shouldn’t hurt.

Because you knew he wasn’t yours. You never asked him to be. Never wanted him to be.

Right?

So why does it feel like the ground just cracked open beneath you? Why does it feel like something inside you just snapped?

You go back inside, down a drink, let someone else pull you onto the dance floor. You lose yourself in the crowd, in the music, in the way someone’s hands settle on your waist—too light, too unfamiliar.

It doesn’t work.

Because when he finds you later, when he corners you in a dark hallway, there’s still fire burning in your chest, in your throat, in the way your hands clench at your sides.

He smirks, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just walk out of here with someone else a few hours ago. Like he knew you’d still be here.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is low, amused. “Jealous?”

The word makes you snap.

“You’re disgusting.”

His smirk widens, but there’s something behind his eyes now—something sharper, more dangerous.

“Funny,” he murmurs, stepping closer, eyes dark, predatory. “Wasn’t what y’said last night.”

He reaches for you, fingers curling around your wrist, but you yank yourself away like he burns.

“We’re done.” Your voice is ice, your eyes colder.

And his smirk falters.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for you to see something else flicker across his face—confusion, disbelief, something dangerously close to panic.

Then it’s gone.

And he laughs. Soft. Low. Infuriating.

“That’s cute,” he drawls, tilting his head. “Think y’can just walk away from me.”

You meet his gaze head-on, jaw clenched, shoulders squared.

“Watch me.”

Then you turn.

And this time—this time—you don’t look back.

Weeks pass.

You don’t speak.

Not a word. Not a text. Not even a glance when you’re in the same room.

And it’s fine.

It has to be.

You throw yourself into distractions—work, friends, nights out where the music is too loud and the drinks burn too much. You let other people flirt with you. Let hands that aren’t his touch you. Let lips that don’t taste like him press against yours in dimly lit corners.

You pretend you don’t miss him.

(You do.)

But you tell yourself this is better. Cleaner. Easier.

Until you start hearing things.

He’s been drinking more.

Fighting more.

Losing his temper over nothing.

You overhear his name in conversations, whispered between mutual friends. You see his face in the back of a blurry Instagram story, bottle in hand, eyes dark and unfocused.

And you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

You tell yourself he’s not your problem anymore.

Until he shows up at your door.

It’s late. Too late for him to be here.

The knock is sharp, impatient. Like he already knows you’re home. Like he already knows you’re going to answer.

You shouldn’t.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the handle, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

And then—

“Just let me in.”

His voice is quiet. Rough.

You open the door.

And he looks wrecked.

Tired. Haunted. Something’s different.

There’s none of the usual arrogance, none of the teasing smirk, none of the sharp-edged confidence that he wears like armor.

Just him.

His hands shoved deep into his pockets, his jaw tight, his eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable as they drag over you like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.

Your throat tightens. “Harry—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “I know, just—”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes flicker over your face again, and for a second—just a second—you swear you see something crack.

And then he looks at you like that.

Like you’re his last fucking breath.

Like if you tell him to leave, it’ll break him.

And you cave.

You step aside.

You let him in.

And maybe that should be enough.

Maybe the way he holds you like you’re something fragile, the way his breath stutters when you touch him, the way his lips tremble against yours—that should be enough.

But it’s not.

Because fear is still there. Lurking. Poisoning everything it touches.

And you should’ve known.

You should’ve known that no matter how much he wants this, no matter how much he means it in the moment—

He’s still him.

And you’re still you.

And happy endings don’t exist for people like you.

So of course, he fucks up again.

Not with another girl. Not with whispered names and lipstick stains and the kind of betrayal that you could at least understand.

No.

This time, he betrays you with his own fear.

It happens fast. A conversation that turns into an argument, an argument that turns into something worse.

Maybe it starts because you ask too much. Maybe it starts because he’s never learned how to let himself have something good.

But all you know is that suddenly—he’s cold.

Detached.

Suddenly, his walls are back up.

“I don’t do relationships,” he says.

Flat. Emotionless.

Like none of it meant anything.

Like you don’t mean anything.

And it hits you harder than any slap ever could.

You flinch, like you’ve been physically wounded, like he’s just driven a knife between your ribs and twisted it.

Your voice shakes. “Then why did you tell me you loved me?”

Silence.

His jaw clenches.

But he doesn’t answer.

And that’s the worst part.

Not the fight. Not the distance.

The silence.

The fact that he has nothing to say.

And that’s when you know.

That’s when you realize—

This is it.

This is the moment he chooses to let you go.

You shake your head, chest heaving, eyes burning, throat closing up around the words you don’t know how to say.

“You don’t get to do this to me.”

But he already has.

And this time, you don’t give him the chance to stop you.

You walk out.

You don’t look back.

And he lets you.

Weeks pass.

You try to move on.

You tell yourself that you’re better off. That you should hate him. That you do hate him.

But then, one night—he shows up.

At your dorm.

At your fucking door, looking like he hasn’t slept, looking like he’s been through hell and back.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw is tense, his eyes are desperate.

And you—

You want to slam the door in his face.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t get to do this.

That he doesn’t get to come back.

But you don’t.

Because you need to hear what he has to say.

So you glare at him, arms crossed tightly over your chest, forcing your voice to stay steady. “What do you want, Harry?”

He exhales sharply. “I lied.”

Your stomach twists.

You swallow. “About what?”

He hesitates. Shifts his weight. But then—he steps closer.

“About not doing relationships.”

And suddenly, the air is too thick, too heavy.

Your head shakes. Your throat tightens. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

“I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I know, I just—” He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I was scared, okay? I didn’t know how to—”

A pause. A beat of silence.

He looks at you, eyes searching, pleading.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Your lips part. But you don’t say anything.

Because after everything—after all of it—how do you know?

How do you know if this time will be different?

So you stare at him, pulse hammering in your throat, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

And then—

“So prove it.”

The challenge hangs between you.

And for the first time in his life—

He doesn’t run.

He doesn’t push you away.

He doesn’t fuck it up.

Instead, he nods.

And he does. --

It’s not instant.

There’s no cinematic moment, no dramatic declaration in the rain, no sudden, sweeping realization that makes everything fall into place.

It’s slow. It’s awkward. It’s frustrating.

But it’s real.

The first time you see him after that night at your dorm, it’s different. He’s different.

He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t act like he already has you figured out.

Instead, he waits.

You’re the one who has to break the silence.

“You really think you can change?”

His jaw clenches, hands flexing like he wants to reach for you but knows he doesn’t have the right to.

“I know I can.”

And for the first time, you almost believe him.

It starts with the little things.

Like how he texts first. Every morning. Every night. Even when there’s nothing to say. Even when it’s just, Hey, eat something. Or, Are you sleeping? Or, I know you’re still awake, don’t lie.

Like how he shows up. Actually shows up.

Not just for the easy moments. Not just for the nights when he’s desperate for you.

But for the moments when you’re exhausted, when you’re in a bad mood, when you’re not the version of yourself that’s easy to love.

And he stays anyway.

The first time you test him, it’s almost accidental.

He calls, asks if you want to come over.

And for the first time, you tell him no.

A few months ago, that would’ve been the end of it.

A few months ago, he would’ve gone out, found someone else, let his frustration morph into recklessness.

But this time, he just exhales. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

A pause.

Then, softly— “Yeah, baby. That’s okay.”

And that’s when you realize—this isn’t the same boy who let you walk away.

He’s trying.

For the first time in his life, he’s trying.

It takes time.

Weeks. Months.

You make him work for it.

Because love shouldn’t be easy—not after everything.

Not after the hurt, the late nights spent waiting for him to choose you, the months wasted pretending it was nothing.

He should prove it.

And he does.

The first time he holds your hand in public, it’s instinctive. Thoughtless.

You’re walking down the street, talking about something unimportant, when suddenly—his fingers brush against yours.

And instead of pulling away, he just…takes your hand.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like he’s not even thinking about it.

Like he’s not the same man who once made you feel like a secret.

You don’t say anything.

But you don’t let go, either.

And neither does he.

One night, he’s driving you home when he suddenly pulls over.

You blink at him. “Uh. What are we doing?”

His fingers drum against the steering wheel. He won’t look at you.

“D’you know the last time I did this?”

You frown. “Did what?”

“Took you home.” He swallows, finally turning to face you. “Last time, I let you walk away.”

Your stomach twists. You remember. Of course, you remember.

He inhales sharply. “Not this time.”

And then, he says it.

“I love you.”

Not because he’s scared. Not because he thinks you’re slipping away.

Just because he does.

And for the first time, you don’t have to question if he means it.

Because this time, he’s not running.

This time, he stays.

And this time—so do you.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff

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nomie-11 · 2 months ago

Text

Lover Girl

masterlist!

synopsis: vi was a loser, a lover girl, and head over heels for you

pairings: vi x reader (no use of y/n)

Vi was a loser.

She was always reminded of her pitiful stance as a random masc lesbian on campus when she passed by you on her way to her afternoon lab. She would watch you walk by, curls bouncing, heeled boots clicking against the pavement as you laughed along to whatever the gorgeous Kiramman girl on your side was saying.

Vi didn’t stand a chance, not against the Kiramman and not against every other gay within a 50 kilometer radius of you that so desperately wanted to get between your beautifully toned thighs.

But Vi had a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. Step one: casually run into you at the campus coffee shop. Step two: say something cool. Step three: make you fall madly in love with her, or at the very least, get you to remember her face.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

Because the moment Vi stepped into the coffee shop and spotted you at the counter—hair tossed over your shoulder, Caitlyn leaning in to say something that made you grin—her brain short-circuited. her heart pounded like she’d just run sprints, and suddenly, she forgot how to be a normal, functioning human being.

Ellie, ever the devil on her shoulder, nudged her forward. “Go on, lover girl. Say something smooth.”

Vi swallowed hard, adjusted her jacket, and sauntered up beside you, trying her best to look effortlessly cool. Instead, she tripped over absolutely nothing and lurched forward, her group on her coffee slipping. Time slowed as the cup tilted, then tumbled, and in an instant—

SPLASH.

A flood of piping hot coffee cascaded down the front of your pristine white shirt.

You gasped, eyes wide as the liquid soaked into the fabric, turning it completely see-through. Vi’s own traitorous eyes followed the path of destruction, trailing powder, until—

Oh. Oh no.

Your bra, lacy and delicate, clung to your skin in a way that should be illegal.

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Every neuron in her dumb, gay little head misfired at once. She was looking—she shouldn’t be looking—but she was looking, and oh god, she had to stop before you noticed—

“Vi!” Ellie hissed under her breath, jabbing an elbow into her ribs.

Vi snapped out of it so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

“Shit! Shit, I—oh, fuck—I am so sorry!” Her hands hovered uselessly in the air, unsure whether to help, to flee, or to simply melt into the crack in between the ratty coffee shop tiles and hoped you forgot about her.

Your lips parted, eyes flicking down to assess the damage. “Well,” you said, voice amused despite the mess, “that’s one way to see my tits.”

Vi wanted to die. Just perish right there in the middle of the coffee shop floor.

Instead, she sprang into action. “Here—uh—take my jacket!” She shrugged off the worn leather in record time and practically threw it around your shoulders before anyone else could get an eyeful. “Just—yeah, cover up—uh, not that you have to! I mean, you look great—not like I was looking! Or, like, not in a creepy way—oh my god, I need to shut up—”

You laughed, warm and bright, as you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself. “Relax, Vi. It’s just coffee.”

Vi, who had gone stiff as a board at hearing you say her name, blinked. “You know my name?”

“You sit behind me in human physiology,” you said, smiling. “And you’re kind of hard to miss.”

Vi’s brain fully melted. She really, really thought she would just die.

Ellie snorted, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “Congrats, lover girl. You’re unforgettable now.”

Vi was malfunctioning.

It had been a full five minutes since she’d doused you in coffee and humiliated herself in front of the entire campus, and yet—somehow—you were still talking to her.

She didn’t know how or why. Maybe the universe had finally decided to cut her some slack. Maybe she’d actually died of embarrassment, and what is was the afterlife. Whatever the case, she wasn’t about to question it.

“So,” you said, adjusting Vi’s jacket around your shoulders. It was comically broad on you, the sleeves dangling past your hands, the scent of worn leather and something undeniably her wrapping around you like a hug. “I think this means you owe me a coffee.”

Vi blinked. “I—yeah! Yeah, totally. Whatever you want.”

You smiled. “Cool. I’ll take a caramel macchiato. Medium.”

Vi scrambled to order, fumbling with her wallet as Ellie watched in barely concealed amusement. When the barista called your name, you plucked the cup from the counter and took a slow, deliberate sip, eyes locked on Vi the entire time.

“Thanks, Vi,” you said, licking a bit of coffee foam from your lip.

Vi’s soul left her body.

“Y-yeah, no problem,” she stammered, gripping the edge of the counter to keep herself from toppling over. “Sorry again about, y’know, ruining your shirt and, uh, your day—”

“You didn’t ruin my day,” you cut in smoothly, taking another sip of your drink. “Just my shirt. And honestly? If this is your way of flirting, keep it up. I like it.”

Vi forgot how to breathe. Ellie choked on her own drink.

“You should do it again sometime,” you added, winking before turning toward the door.

Vi watched you leave, slipping your arm into Caitlyn’s as you giggled, the coffee shop suddenly feeling a lot warmer.

Ellie whistled. “Holy shit, lover girl. You might actually have a shot.”

Vi, still reeling, stared at her with wide eyes. “I need to lie down.”

————————

Vi didn’t expect to see you again so soon, but campus had a funny way of throwing her into awkward situations.

The next morning, she was rushing across the quad, still half-asleep, when she heard someone calling her name.

“Vi!”

She skidded to a stop, heart already hammering. She turned to find you walking toward her, wearing her jacket.

Her poor, gay heart couldn’t handle it.

“Oh, hey,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Uh, how’s your shirt situation?”

You laughed. “Better. But I figured I’d keep this for a bit longer. Hope you don’t mind?”

“Mind?” Vi said, as if the thought of you wearing her clothes wasn’t currently rewriting her entire brain chemistry. “Nope. Not at all. Keep it forever, if you want.”

You raised a brow. “Forever, huh? You sure about that?”

Vi’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, before she managed, “I mean—you look good in it, so—yeah?”

Your lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

“Good,” you said, stepping a little closer. “Because I was thinking… if you wanted your jacket back, you might have to take me out to dinner first.”

Vi stared. You smiled. Ellie, watching from Vi and her dorm window, fist-pumped the air.

“I—uh—” Vi cleared her throat. “Dinner. Yeah. I can do that. Totally. Absolutely. When—uh—when were you thinking?”

You pretended to think, tilting your head. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” Vi repeated, still buffering. “Yep. Cool. Great. I’ll—uh—I’ll text you?”

“Looking forward to it, lover girl,” you teased, before turning on your heel and strolling away, Vi’s jacket still draped over your shoulders.

Vi stood there for a solid minute, staring at where you’d been.

Then she pulled out her phone and texted Ellie:

Vi: I think I just agreed to a date???

Ellie: YOU WHAT!!!!

——————————

Vi was sweating.

Which was ridiculous, because it was cold outside, and she was currently standing in front of your dorm, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying not to hyperventilate.

She’d spent way too long getting ready—changing shirts three times, debating whether her other leather jacket was too much (Ellie convinced her it was ‘peak masc lesbian energy,’ and Dina agreed so she must have been right), and trying not to puke from nerves.

And now, she was here. About to take you on a date.

You swung the door open before she could knock. “Vi!”

Oh. Oh.

You were in a black dress, snug in all the right places, and Vi swore she momentarily lost all motor function.

“You good?” You asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” Vi said, voice cracking like a teenage boy. She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Totally. You look—uh—wow.”

You laughed, locking your dorm behind you. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

Vi absolutely wasn’t blushing. Definitely not. “I’m not nervous.”

“Mhm,” you said, linking your arm through hers as you started down the hallway. “So, where are you taking me, lover girl?”

————————

Vi had racked her brain for the perfect place and eventually settled on a nice, cozy little restaurant near campus. It wasn’t fancy, but it was real—warm lighting, a killer burger menu, and a jukebox playing old rock songs in the corner.

You slid into the booth across from her, propping your chin on your hand as you watched her.

“So, Vi,” You said, eyes twinkling. “You gonna tell me why it took spilling coffee on me to finally make a move?”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Can we not talk about my tragic lack of game?”

You grinned. “I think it’s cute.”

“You think everything is cute.”

“Not everything,” you teased, leaning forward. “Just you.”

Vi choked on her water.

The rest of the date was… perfect.

You talked, you laughed, you stole a few of her fries like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hi was completely gone for you, and by the time you both stepped outside into the crisp night air, she was wondering how the hell she’d gotten so lucky.

You walked side by side, the streetlights casting a soft glow around you.

“This was fun,” you said, tugging Vi’s jacket around you a little tighter.

“Yeah,” Vi agreed, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I mean, aside from me embarrassing myself every five seconds.”

You stopped walking, turning to face her. “You didn’t embarrass yourself.”

Vi huffed. “I literally poured coffee on you, made an idiot out of myself, and nearly passed out when I saw you in that dress.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, so you liked the dress?”

Vi blinked. “Uh—yes? Obviously? Have you seen yourself?”

You stepped closer. “I have,” you said, voice soft. “But I like seeing myself through your eyes.”

Vi forgot how to breathe.

Then, before she could process what was happening, you reached to her, gently tugging her up by the collar of her jacket—

And kissed her.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like you were waiting for her to freak out—but Vi wasn’t that much of a loser.

She kissed you back. Harder.

Her hands found your waist, pulling you in, and you sighed into her mouth like you’d been waiting for this just as much as she had.

When you finally pulled away, Vi was dazed.

You smiled, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Took you long enough, lover girl.”

Vi let out a breathless laugh. “With the wait?”

You grinned. “Definitely.”

And then you kissed her again, just because you could.

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x you #vi x reader #vi headcanon #vi x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane season two #arcane s2 #piltover's gayest

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itsastrobixch · 8 months ago

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Astrology notes

- gemini / mercury / uranus / aqua change their identity a lot online. They place a lot of importance on their online identity and as they change so does their online personas.

- Mercury dominance if well placed Learnt to talk very early and saturn mercury aspects learnt to speak a bit late or may speak with a bit of hesitation.

- chiron in 1st have deep rooted identity issues and may also not be able to relax in photos and stuff. Some may even go to the extent of not wanting to take pictures at all.

- count yourself lucky if : air signs ask for your advice.. They don't ask option from everyone. Similarly if fire signs seek you out or show you their defeated side and depressed side. They Always want people to seem them as optimistic fiery and determined but like evryone they too go through down times but they tend to bounce back faster than others.

- Mercury saturn or Mercury rx may have great conversations with themselves in their heads but when it comes out it night miss the mark or.. Like not sound as good as it did in their brains.

- all mercury /gemini dominants open 3 to 5 tabs at the same time. And don't finish a single one completely. Change my mind.

- moon pluto tumultuous emotions. Whiplash. One extrene or the other. Mood changes just with a single event. The whole room can feel the shift as well. Moon and Pluto both give out unstable, watery and intense emotions. It can be difficult if negatively aspected. Even if positively aspected it can lead to the feeling overwhelming emotions.

- People with pluto in 1st, their emotions are hidden. No one knows how they feel. Mostly i see geminis get all the credit for their glib tongues. But have you ever seen a Pluto person toy with people when they know they truth ? They'll lie so effortlessly that even the people who know the truth will start to believe the lie is the truth. Their words and their facial expressions while lying is so controlled and natural it's scary.

- Asteroid Cerea shows is how we nurture. Aries ceres is the defender of the group and people who tend to protect people who are defenseless esp animals. Taurus is the comforter. And so on. But aspects and the house in which Ceres is in also plays a major role.

- Uranus / gemini in 3rd house have lots of ideas at the same time but many are unfocused and evrything is gone in a fleet. They may have a brilliant idea but Lose it in the next second. It'll be better if they scribble down their thoughts anywhere somewhere so they'll have a basic idea of what they thought.

- I fucking admire Aries women, esp as a Libra, like how tf..? i used to have a friend, she used to do some pretty controversial shit in high school but like never once let anything get iin her way and is now a part time business woman...like come on...how are you so headstrong ? And somehow things also tend to workout for them

- every mutable person has a box full of drafts all half done and of various types but all undone. Its a mess of ideas and posts half written and lost interest and motivation along the way...but I'll save it for another day when I will want to finish it up.

- If an air sign texts you daily, they like you. Especially instant replies . 🌝

- scorpio, and Venus Pluto aspects also tend to fall for someone who is out of their grasp. they like to torture themselves like that 😂 or they'll think that they don't deserve the person they're in love with. Its Always one or the other with them.

- venus neptune contacts produce the devoted worshipper type lovers. They will worship the ground their love walks on and will turn a blind eye to their faults. This is most definitely not a healthy patter of behaviour. Please don't indulge in this.

- mercury dominants can't fucking shut their brain off. they have a lot of nervous energy. And will Always be actively thinking about atleast two things at once.

- actually now that i think about it, my bffs in high are an Aries sun, me a sag rising and my frnd a leo sun. and i still wonder why the girls didn't like us 😂🌝 if fire signs get together whether they stir up drama or not, it'll either find them or people will hold them responsible for it even if they aren't.

- gemini and Mercury dominants can imitate very well especially the accents. Their adpative ability is out of charts and a bit creepy tbh. how they change acc to people, how they acclimatise to their surroundings ax cultures, they have this ability which allows to be another person if they like.

- mars - pluto negative aspects may have r*pe dreams often even if they haven't had any such encounters.

- pluto in 1st are ironically afraid of death and illness more so than the usual person.

- 11th house sign may show how we behave online.

-geminins have this weird ability to take and soak up information from all over the place and somehow put it together perfectly . they learn stuff from disorderly messes but they seem to understand it with clarity.

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 year ago

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lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him.

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move.

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white.

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now.

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace.

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one.

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead.

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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natalicss · 2 months ago

Text

kwon ji-yong x american popstar!reader headcanons

summary: just a bunch of random lore drops about reader & g-dragons relationship with american popstar!reader

warnings: tbh i don’t think there’s really any but if im wrong lemme know. just chaotic random nonsense. if this sucks it’s cause i wrote most of it half awake at 4am soo SORRYYY

nat’s notes: hey y’all!! i just wanted to put out random fun facts about jiyong & american!reader. i thought it’d be funny and unserious and i think yall might enjoy this!! if you don’t…don’t read it and don’t tell me LMAO. if yall want more of these lemme know??? i guesss???

“it’s hard to say who fell first—“ it was jiyong. you’d been hanging out together during your first time in seoul. you two talked about music, art, the industry, and every conversation jiyong found himself more and more fascinated. the way you shared so many of the same views as he did, the way you carried yourself so beautifully and confidently, the way you truly listened and hung onto every word he said. it all intrigued him, and by the end of your visit in seoul jiyong knew he was crushing and crushing hard.

you two didn’t get together right away, tho. no you two stayed good friends for a solid 2-3 months before any romance even started. and neither of you really know who initiated it. seemingly both? you two were at a dinner together as you were visiting seoul again (claiming to be working, but your truly wanted to see him). you both kept staring at each other. the tension was thick. you didn’t even know who kissed who first. one minute, you’re staring at each other like the rest of the restaurant wasn’t there, and the next you two were kissing softly under the dim lights.

taeyang is the first person who finds out about your relationship. not on purpose either. it was like he manifested it. he’d discovered your music and was listening to it. you two ended up having mutual friends, and you were visiting seoul for ‘vacation’, so you two had ended up meeting. you loved him and hyo-rin. but you struggled acting like you had no idea who they were. acting like you weren’t dating his group member. taeyang mentions his group to you, how he should introduce you to daesung and jiyong, how you’d love them. you try not to freak out.

how he found out is fairly simple (but he found it to be hilarious). he was heading to jiyongs home to hang out, something that they’d planned weeks before (it was hard with their schedules), but jiyong had completely forgotten about it. taeyang walked in, only to find you standing in the kitchen wearing jiyongs pajamas and drinking a glass of water. the two of you stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide and completely silent. then, taeyang bursts out laughing. the sound causes jiyong to come out from wherever he’d been, his face dropping in realization. “this makes so much sense!” taeyang exclaims. “i was wondering why you were traveling so much.” he points at jiyong, and then he looks at you. “and you! you kept telling me you were here for work! hyo-rin called it! we knew you were dating someone! we just didn’t know it was each other!”

you and daesung are jiyongs worst nightmare. the way you two become instant chaotic besties. at first, jiyong is even a little jealous. the two of you became friends so easily and so quickly it gave him whiplash. he gets over it pretty easily (after all, you are absolutely obsessed with your man & remind him of that), but he still partially regrets introducing you to daesung because you two are now both menaces in his life and constantly give the other new ideas.

jiyong loves visiting you in america. sure he’s famous over there, obviously, but it didn’t feel as intense as it did at home. plus, you had mastered the skills of avoiding the paparazzi. the two of you always going on trips to more rural areas to spend time together without anyone noticing you

he loves spoiling you. sure, he knows you have plenty of your own money. but he can’t help himself! when he sees a cute jacket that he knows would look good on you, he can’t help it but snatch it for you.

but its a mutual exchange. you can’t help but grab him gifts too. whether it’s fun scarves, or a one-of-a-kind sweater, you’re always getting him things. you never tell him, either. you tell a person on his team that he’ll be receiving a gift from you in the mail, and they keep it a secret until he’s opening the package. both of you complain about the other getting you things, but neither of you stop either

the first time a dating rumor spiked about you, the two of you were constantly waiting to see who. you were hardly seen in public anyways, so who in the world could they be conspiring you were with? when it turned out to be a famous musician who had recently asked you to feature on their album, jiyong felt both slightly jealous and relieved. relieved because he didn’t want you facing the wrath of knetizens & the media for dating him, but slightly jealous because he wasn’t blind to the comments shipping you and the other musician. talking about how cute you two were, how he was so talented, your babies would be cute, the couple made so much sense blah blah blah. dare i say he was a little bit of a pouty baby about it, which you teased him for relentlessly

you had your own jealousy moments! the two of you were at a chanel event, neither of you interacting or acknowledging each other at all as it was very early in your secret relationship. you couldn’t help but overhear as a woman asked jiyong if he was single. of course, he said yes. that part didn’t bother you. what bothered you was the way the woman’s face lit up as she continued to talk to him. jiyong, on the other hand, was completely unaware. he was usually attentive and noticed things like that, but in this particular moment he was far too aware of you to think about the woman’s advances. when he did eventually catch on, he kindly shut her down and excused himself. he didn’t miss the way you glared at her. and he certainly commented on it when you got back to your hotel room. “were you jealous, baby?” he’d say with some smirk that makes your entire body blush. “it’s a good look on you, but you know i’m in love with you.”

you offered to dye his hair, and the first few times he said no. when he started dying it around the time of the comeback, you were begging at that point. he lets you dye it mint<3 and you did a damn good job too

you don’t comment on his posts or on the 8lo8lo8lowme posts, but you DOOOO text him like a crazy person. “WHO LET YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE LOOKING SO FINE” “booking a flight back there rn. quitting the tour, quitting my entire career so i can come be your trophy wife. setting back feminism by 400 years” “ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???” “hope you’re okay with being a dilf”

how he reacts depends. he’s either confused as fuck, flustered as fuck, or laughing at his phone and getting weird looks from his friends.

i feel like it wouldn’t be very often he’d match your energy, but when he does you get even more excited and probably up the insanity by a million. if he ever one-ups you you probably reply with something blunt like “👁️👄👁️ alright get back here rn cause we’re about to have the craziest sex-“ PFFFTTTT

when you two go public, you still keep the relationship private!!! you post him once or twice, you get featured a couple times on 8lo8lo8lowme’s instagram, but otherwise fans get crumbs from paparazzi & yall liking each others posts

however i definitely could see jiyong liking edits or posts about you because mans is always on there let’s be real

he joins you on tour & it’s definitely different for him. it’s not often he’s at a concert where he’s not one of the main focuses. but he does love it, watching you in your element. it helps when the crew doesn’t know who he is, and just knows he’s with you somehow. watching you get ready, watching you warm up, helping you with your hair and your wardrobe, he loves it all. what he loves most is watching you perform. sometimes he was backstage, but other times he’d find a spot in the VIP section and watch with the rest of the crowd. he thinks that might be when you’re most beautiful, doing things you love most.

overall yall are probably the fluffiest couple to ever exist it’s sickening. daesung reminds you of that every time yall act flirty in any way.

#kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdragon #bigbang x reader #kwon jiyong #big bang x reader #kpop x reader #kpop fluff

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monkey-overalls · 4 months ago

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Project: Eden’s Garden Deadly Life/Trial Thoughts

Feeling a bit more incoherent now than I did before for… obvious reasons, so these are gonna be bullet points instead of full paragraphs:

Kai’s “OOOHHH SHIT” voice line cracks me up every time I hear it, the delivery is hilarious.

Also the “GAME OVER MAN, GAME OVER”—I see you Aliens reference, don’t think I didn’t catch that 👀

Wolfgang’s enraged sprites were phenomenal. The emotion captured in them had me on the edge of my seat.

I still don’t trust him though. They keep hammering in how great of a person he was but I dooon’t trust it not ooone bit!!!

WOLFGANG’S VOICE ACTOR NAILED IT OH MY GOSH ‼️‼️

The performance may have been much less intense than many of the other characters, but I want to shout out Eloise’s VA as well. Her voice is so soft and sweet, but she can also sound authoritative when she wants to be (i.e., questioning Grace). Anytime she speaks I’m like 🥰

Diana lowkey sounds like Kaede. Am I the only one who thinks she sounds like Kaede???

The fact that they made Ulysses say “Um ackshually ☝️🤓” gave me irreversible whiplash.

I can’t attest to the playability of the Argument Altercation (I watched it, not played it) but it was visually and conceptually stunning. Eva may be having a complete mental breakdown, but the art makes her look super cool doing it lmao

Diana I am so sorry for thinking you were sus, you deserve so much better… your speech was a little goofy though ngl

I say this while also still shipping her and Eva… whoops, got blinded by the toxic yuri beams sorrynotsorry-

Now for the elephant in the room… Eva they could never make me hate you. NEVER. I don’t care that you chewed Damon out or framed Diana for murder, you’re still my favorite girl and this game will have to pry my imaginary Eva Tsunaka marketable plushie from my cold, dead hands!!!

Obviously her VA also slayed. I love how quiet and raspy her voice normally is, and how that juxtaposes with her absolutely losing her shit towards the end of the trial.

That execution, man. At first I was like “A fire pit? That’s it? Seems like a pretty instant death to me” and then they brought out the glass and the nails and I was SILENT. The ghost of Kirumi Tojo was cheering you on the entire way, Eva.

The animation had no right being that smooth??? Tozu was right, this probably did take up most of the budget.

Everyone’s crying sprites make me want to commit Sakura Protein Shake 😭

INGRID’S AFFIRMATIONS DIDN’T HELP, THEY JUST MADE ME CRY HARDER 😭😭😭

#project eden's garden #project: eden's garden #p:eg #p:eg spoilers #p:eg chapter 1 #eva tsunaka #kai monteago #wolfgang akire #diana venicia #eloise taulner #damon maitsu #ulysses wilhelm #ingrid grimwall

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spanktony · 3 months ago

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chapter one. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — none.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 1.9k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— one more tiny lil chapter after this that i hate before it gets good, stick w me.

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

aespa's comeback was coming quicker than ever. it had been two weeks since the meeting about the concept and choreography—two weeks since they all heard the demo for "whiplash," written and produced by none other than you. they loved it, honestly. it was bold, raw, futuristic, and, in aeri's words, "a cooler version of supernova."

when the group found out you'd be joining the usual directors in the recording studio, karina felt the familiar pang of nerves. working with someone new always came with its anxieties—different expectations, different ideas.

that was, until about ten minutes ago when she finally met you. her eyes went wide, flickering with recognition, her gaze landing on the black baseball cap that sat perched on your head.

she can't believe it.

you.

her eyes then drifted to your face, and your heart started to beat even faster than it was three seconds ago.

jesus christ... did she know how intensely she was staring at you?

those sharp, catlike eyes seemed to pin you in place. it didn't help that she looked like an ai brought to life, with her perfect features even in a bare face and messy bun.

karina's mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. you watch her carefully. you can tell she's struggling to find her words, and the way her cheeks redden only adds to your growing confusion.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence, bowing slightly as a sign of respect. karina's eyes widen in surprise, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips and she quickly copies your gesture, reciprocating the respect.

"i love your music," she admits, laughing a bit, her hand resting on her chest as she tries to calm her nerves. she's so cute. you laugh lightly, a smile gracing your features.

"i love yours," you return. "it's an honor to work with you and the rest of the group." karina's smile grows wider. she nods, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

once introductions were out of the way, everyone got into their positions and began recording, you behind the glass of the booth with other directors and sound engineers, watching karina through the window as she took a sip of her water, mentioning the way the lights of the studio keep changing colors.

karina stood in the recording booth, the microphone poised inches from her lips, her headphones snug against her ears and glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"shall we start?" the main director asks, and karina nods in response, but not even a second later she takes in several breaths, the smile on her face making everyone relax because half the room thought something was truly wrong.

"what happened?" the main director asks, looking at karina, smiling slightly, her mouse hovering over the red record button on the control panel.

karina chuckles softly, "i feel nervous." she earns a few laughs from the crew, but she quickly composes herself when the familiar instrumental comes through her headphones, signaling the start of the recording.

she transforms in an instant. gone is the slightly shy, bashful girl who fumbled her words earlier. in her place stands karina, the leader of aespa—poised, professional, and utterly captivating. the next few takes go smoothly, with karina pushing herself further with each one.

occasionally, she glances toward the glass, her eyes catching yours for the briefest of moments. it's subtle but enough to make your breath hitch every time it happens.

the session wrapped up with a round of fist bumps. karina smiled as she made her way around the room, lightly tapping knuckles with the staff and finally. . .you.

your knuckles collide, and as you pull away, you can't resist adding an explosion sound, wiggling your fingers with a playful grin. the moment it leaves your mouth, regret washes over you like a tidal wave.

did you really just do that?

if only you had a neuralyzer from men in black to erase the memory of everyone in the room.

karina freezes, her mouth falling open slightly, and for a second, you brace yourself for judgment. then, unexpectedly, a soft laugh escapes her lips. her smile widens, and her laughter ripples through the room.

she looks at you for a second, and when you notice her mouth fall open, a soft laugh escapes her lips. she smiles widely at you, and her laughter is infectious. you can't help but laugh, too.

when being an idiot pays off.

"ah, i didn't think of that." she says, still giggling. "let's do it again!"

your face lights up. "for sure!"

the rest of the room chuckles along, and she taps her fist against yours again, this time with a little more force. you repeat the explosion sound with the same exaggerated enthusiasm, and this time, she joins in, wiggling her fingers and mimicking the sound.

karina, being the last one out of the group to record, some of the staff began grabbing their belongings and preparing to leave. some of them stayed put, though, but you weren't a part of the staff, so, of course, you sat up from your seat, packing your own stuff.

even though you were the one who got ready first, karina ended up leaving the room before you. you weren't able to catch a glimpse of her. she left as quickly as a bat out of hell. as you walked out of the recording room, your phone began ringing in your pocket, the familiar ringtone indicating it was your best friend.

"hey," you answer.

a sniffle comes through the phone, followed by a shaky voice. "i—I miss you," ian says, and you stand in the middle of the hallway, rolling your eyes. he was faking; he does this every time you answer his calls.

"i miss you too," you say, laughing as you continue down the hall, waving goodbye to some of the staff.

"what are you doing? where are you? are you cheating on me?" all of his words rush out in a panicked tone. you stop again, leaning against a wall, the hand not holding the phone resting on your hip.

"yes, ian, i'm cheating on you," you deadpan, rolling your eyes again. "you caught me."

"i KNEW IT!" he yells into the phone.

"jesus," you breathe, pulling the phone away from your ear a bit. are your eardrums okay? maybe you should book a doctor's appointment just to be safe.

"what are you actually doing right now, loser?" his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

"just left a recording session. it went well; i think i might spoil myself with a nice dinner tonight," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips.

ian gasps.

"oh, my god, you mean the recording session with aespa was today? and you didn't even think to remind me? was winter there? what did she smell like—" ian's crazy, but he's your best friend. he's also a tad bit the reason why you're even where you are today. he was always pushing you and giving you that little extra bit of encouragement.

he's the best hype man.

you furrow your eyebrows at the words that just left his mouth with no sort of filter. "did you just ask me—"

"wait, wait, hold on," he cuts you off, and you hear a bunch of shuffling and muffled cursing on his end. suddenly a staff member steps in front of you, fiddling with her id badge nervously.

you lower the phone from your ear.

"i'm sorry, but we're recording a behind-the-scenes video, and your voice is being picked up in the audio. we need you to keep it down, please." you nod apologetically, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

"okay, sorry. it won't happen again."

the staff member offers a kind smile. "thank you."

as the woman walks away, you bring the phone back to your ear. "what the hell, ian?!" you whisper harshly.

"yeah, hi, sorry, i'm here. i was joking, by the way. i don't wanna know what winter smells like..."

he goes silent before adding, "...that badly."

you don't even give him a warning before hanging up the call. the last thing you need is for someone else to overhear your embarrassing conversation. once you make it to the front of the elevator, a figure steps besides you, causing you to freeze in shock.

"hi," karina greets, that same smile from earlier appearing on her lips.

"oh, hey," you say, a smile forming on your own lips, the nerves still present but not as prominent as earlier. a ding is heard as the elevator doors open, the two of you stepping inside in sync, both avoiding eye contact as the elevator begins to descend.

"what are you getting for dinner?" the woman asks, breaking the silence, leaning forward a bit to attempt to make eye contact. "you are treating yourself, right?"

you open your mouth to reply but stop yourself. how did she know you were treating yourself? with a slight furrow in your eyebrows, you turn your head to look at her. karina's face is slightly tilted up, a smirk gracing her lips.

"how do you know about that?"

the smirk turns into a laugh. "you were the one talking loudly near my interview." your mouth falls open. oh, god. "i'm so sorry."

karina giggles, the sound so cute and light. "no worries, i didn't hear much anyway," she reassures, and the silver doors of the elevator slide open with a soft ding.

as you both step out onto the floor of the lobby, "um, probably sushi," you reply, referring to her previous question, and the thought makes your mouth water.

karina hums.

"that sounds good," she replies. "i might get that myself."

"maybe we can get it together." karina's eyes widen a fraction.

did you really just say that out loud?

"i—uh," you stutter, clearing your throat. "if you want, of course."

she does want to, but would it really be a good idea to hang out alone with her producer? not just any producer, but one that would definitely cause gossip and rumors among herself if the paparazzi were to get a picture. she's the group's leader; after all, she has to set an example.

and sometimes that means taking away from her own personal desires.

"i have a schedule, unfortunately," she lies, biting her lip. "but thank you for the offer. i appreciate it."

"oh, no problem," you say, nodding. "sorry if i came on too strong. that was uncalled for."

"no, no, no, no, no," karina says quickly, shaking her head. she felt like she just kicked a puppy, your lips pouting ever so slightly and your pupils visibly shrinking. "not at all. i would've loved to, really."

your lips curve into a small, grateful smile.

"well, i'll let you go now," you say, gesturing towards the exit, which is only a few feet away.

karina's eyes follow your gaze, her own smile never leaving her lips. she nods, and you take it as a cue to go ahead and leave.

"wait," karina says, suddenly grabbing your arm. her fingers are cool against the warmth of your skin, and you have to fight back the urge to shudder.

she lets go as soon as you turn around, her hand resting awkwardly by her side. "uh, sorry, it's just... do you want my number? by chance...?"

her heart pounds as she waits for your response.

"oh, yeah, for sure," you say, and pulling out your phone, you type in the new contact information that she recites to you. you smile once again when she's finished, locking your screen and placing the device back into your pocket.

"okay, bye," karina says, the smile not leaving her lips.

"bye," you reply, the word almost a whisper.

she never received your text.

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

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twis-world · 1 year ago

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The Remedy That Is You (Riddle Version)

Mentions: Fluff, Riddle-Centric, Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Riddle

“You imbecile!” Riddle’s voice boomed, echoing all throughout Heartslabyul. Fear set into all who heard it, a chain reaction flowing through their bodies as their hearts beat quicker, palms growing clammy in a cold sweat. No matter how many times their beloved Housewarden proved that he had changed, that he was no longer the cruel tyrant they all once feared, it did not stop the utter terror that ran through them when they did succeed in trying his patience.

Especially when it concerned the prized animals they cared for.

“Have I not made it clear several times that you are not to directly hit the hedgehogs?” Riddle continued to scream, face flaming red as he cradled the delicate creature in his arms. Whether or not the poor thing was shaking of its own account or fear of the one holding it was to be determined, but it mattered not with all eyes on the beholder. “Are you so dense that you cannot remember something as simple as that?”

“Housewarden Riddle,” the victim stuttered. It was a first-year clearly, face deathly pale and looking as if his soul would leave his body any moment in a fit of desperation. Anything to get away from such a ghastly scenario. “I-I…I swear it was a-a-an accident-”

“How do you accidentally do such a thing?” Riddle snapped back, nearly frothing at the mouth as he marched forward into the other’s space. The surrounding students gasped, taking a step back in turn and preparing for the inevitable as his hand noticeably itched for his pen. The first-year clearly noticed as well, eyes bulging and feet shifting in preparation to run if need be. “Even so, there is no room for such impertinence. Why, I should have your head for that!”

“Riddle?”

The effect was almost instant.

The speed at which the male stepped back was almost inhuman, head snapping back so quickly a few flinched at the thought of such inevitable whiplash. The snarl on his lips dropped, not taking on a smile but smoothing out the lines his earlier scowl created. In fact, the only evidence of his incredible fury from but a moment ago was the ever present brightness of his face, taking its time in ever so slowly draining away.

Then, they saw it.

The moment you managed to break through the crowd, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape as you surveyed the situation, the sharpness in his gaze disappeared. It was almost comical how instantly his pupils blew, nearly overtaking the storm in his eyes. Some swore that if it were possible hearts would most definitely be shining from his orbs, beating in tune with the one confined by his mortal body yet still promised to you.

Great Seven, the way he greeted you as well. It nearly ached how tenderly a soft ‘My Rose’ escaped from his lips, and it was then they all knew that in his mind the rest of the world faded away until all that lay within it was you.

“Ace nearly gave me a heart attack when he blew up my phone, spewing nonsense of a bomb about to blow the whole of the dorm,” you gently teased, stepping towards him with such ease despite the still shaking of Riddle’s body. Yet, as you placed a delicate hand on his arm, the tremors all but disappeared. “Guess he wasn’t that far off for once.”

The red fury on his face was now one of shame and embarrassment, tucking his head down and staring as he gently calmed the still shaking hedgehog. “He exaggerates…” he nearly mumbled, refusing to look up at the gentle smile you were giving him.

You stared at him with the same fondness he just had moments ago, thumb softly rubbing against his arm. Words could not explain the relief they all felt when you looked up at them all and nodded your head back to the main dorm building, silently giving them permission to finally escape.

At the sound of their retreat Riddle’s head shot up, confusion evident. “Who gave you all permission to leave?” he called out, stepping out of your grasp and staring at their retreating backs. If his hands weren’t occupied you were sure he would be waving them in a blind fury. “Come back! You have yet to-”

“Riddle,” you interrupted, cupping his face in your hands and turning his gaze to you instead. It was a miracle that he had yet to pass out, blood still continuously rushing to his face as he had no choice but to lock eyes with you. Fingertips caressed under his eyes, exaggerated breathing from you goading him to follow with, not once turning away. Not daring to escape the land you’ve trapped him in.

He didn’t know how much time passed, just the two of you standing there and the animal in his arms long since passed out, nor did he care. Just your touch alone was enough to soothe his soul, your gaze and sweet words were simply a bonus that he thought himself unworthy of, yet here he was.

“There we go,” you cooed, dropping your hands but not once breaking contact from his face. Down his cheeks that you held for a moment, nails barely scraping down his neck in tune with the pleasant shiver it sent down his spine, dancing across his shoulders and tickling his waist before coming to a stop there. “Why don’t we sit and enjoy some tea to help calm you down more, hm?”

“It’s not yet past the lunch hour,” he responded, yet almost drunkenly. “Rule 148 states-” The small burst of laughter that left you was enough to shut him up, watching as your head tilted back and shined even brighter than the sun that warmed you both. He decided that he really didn’t want you to stop anytime soon. “Though…though I suppose I could make an exception…”

A few more chuckles rang, and you gave him another playful smile along with a gentle squeeze. “How kind.”

Yes, yes you really were quite magical.

#fun fact this was supposed to have riddle AND malleus but my lazy ass settled with this #sorry yall #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #x reader #gender neautral reader #x gender neutral reader #disney twisted wonderland #fluff #riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts

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yanderecookierunkingdom · 1 year ago

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Six becomes Five

Prev | Next

Contains spoilers for Episode 2 of Beast Yeast!

By the time you arrived back to the group, who were all struggling to process still the whiplash of the past half hour, the changes to the Silver Kingdom already began.

"The Faerie Cookies.." You whispered in horror, gently setting Pure Vanilla Cookie down as you finally shrunk down to your normal size. However, your old outfit stayed. "Shadow Milk Cookie.."

"Reader Cookie, you're one of the old heroes?" White Lily Cookie was the one to speak everything on everyone's mind, looking at you with confusion.

You lowered your head, shameful. "I am, yes. I'm sorry I never told any of you."

"Did you.. not want to come here?" Pure Vanilla Cookied asked, his voice softer than usual. "Is this why you were so hesitant..?"

You hesitated before nodding. "It was. But.. I knew that I couldn't let you guys go here alone."

Elder Faeire Cookie narrowed his eyes the smallest bit. "That is why you seemed so familiar. You've done a good job at hiding who you once were."

"My days as Sparkling Joy Cookie are over," you declared.

"But it has a nice ring.." Gingerbrave muttered as the group began forward.

As you began traversing through the now twisted kingdom, the inhabitants of the Silver Kingdom now jesters and clowns. Doing tricks, and seemingly not noticing anyone. Silverbell Cookie was particularly distraught, but Mercurial Knight Cookie made sure to help him stay focused.

It wasn't long, however, until Pure Vanils Cookie stumbled and placed a hand to his head. "Ah..!!!"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie?!" Your attention snapped to him in and instant, and the group halted. Your hands gently grasped his shoulders.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie... Are you alright...?!" White Lily Cookie gasped.

"I'm... alright.." He assured the both of you, leaning heavily against you. "Just a bit dazed, that's all.."

You hardly believed him, not with how his Soul Jam was pulsing. You eyed it warily, but decided not to say anything for the moment.

"If you're sure." You placed a hand to his back in comfort. He smiled gratefully.

"Well then, let's see.." A familiar voice chortled, and your jam ran cold. "I said hello to Pure Vanilla Cookie... That's one."

"Some Faeries... Two. Some teeny-tiny Cookies... Three."

Your scepter reformed in your hand, and you placed your arm in front of Pure Vanilla Cookie in a protective gesture. The rest of the group all quickly entered defensive positions.

"What's the next number? Six?" You could hear the grin in Shadow Milk Cookie's voice. "Oh! He he he! Seems like there's a special someone missing!"

"NO! Where is he? Where did he go? Aww, I was sure he'd be the first one to greet me when I'm free!"

You hardly paid attention to what was being said next, not even the outburst of Shadow Milk Cookie. You were too focused on figuring out just what your former friend's plan was. He had done something to Pure Vanilla, and you had no doubt about it. He always had an affinity for plays too.

It hit you like a train.

"He's going to put on a play." You spoke, and just as you realized, a giant stage appeared.

"Huh?! A giant stage?!" Gingerbrave gasped.

"What is he planning...?!" White Lily Cookie narrowed her eyes.

"Now...! Once upon a time, there were six amazing Cookies! Truly brilliant!"

Puppets of the Five Beasts and you popped up. While the Five Beasts were silhouettes, yours was completely colored in, with many details.

What stood out was the large and beautiful wings on your back, almost like a butterfly's. Your hair was long and sparkling, trailing off into mist at the ends. Your expression was full of joy, a wide smile on your face. A silver crown was drawn atop on your head, ordained with small gems, the colors of the other Beasts. Around your neck hung your petal-esque Soul Jam, sparkles surrounding it.

"However, there was one Cookie who was truly radiant and loving like no other! Sparkling Joy Cookie!"

The other puppets disappeared as your sole one remained. Rays resembling sunbeams danced around you, as did your puppet danced around.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was perfect in every way! They loved and they loved like no other, bringing joy to the little common Cookies of the world."

"However.. this love wasn't without its price, no no!"

Your puppet flew down and then came back up. It showed you on your knees, weeping. A large, grand, and quiet frankly scary puppet of a Witch appeared, her hands hovering over you.

"The Witches saw this kindness, and when the other five brilliant Cookies began to have their fun, they turned Sparkling Joy Cookie AGAINST THEIR TRUE LOVED ONES!!"

The outburst only made Gingerbrave's group flinch back, and you had a horrified look on your face.

"Ahem.. Apologies for that! Now, where were we.. Ah, yes!"

The puppets flipped, and their side profiles faced the audience now.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was very resistant to the Witches' manipulation at first! 'No!' They cried. 'I won't! They've done nothing wrong. They're pure still!' But.."

The puppets changed, showing the Witch covering the puppet's eyes with her hands. "Sparkling Joy Cookie was only so strong.. and they fell to the whim of their creators.. aiding in the capture of their friends.."

You softened a bit, hearing how.. somber Shadow Milk Cookie was. As if he was truly saddened.

"And soon after, a tree was planted, and a foolish king rose to power.."

The stage vanished, as did the audience, and your group pressed forward.

"Reader Cookie, was what he said true?" Silverbell Cookie asked, his voice soft as he shot away some advancing puppets.

"Partly." You narrowed your eyes. "I was friends with them, once upon a time. I did help the Witches imprison them, but.. it was of my own will."

A new stage appeared, and a new puppet appeared, called the Fool-King. It wasn't hard to see how that was meant to represent. You tuned out that part until Gingerbrave asked Pure Vanilla if he was alright.

At his insistence that he was fine, White Lily Cookie shook her head. "Tell us... What did Shadow Milk Cookie tell you earlier...?"

With that, Pure Vanilla Cookie began to appear more frazzled. "He.. disguised himself as the Light of Truth. And spoke to me from the Dark Side of the Moon..."

You froze at that, your heart practically stilling. Shadow Milk Cookie.. could reach Pure Vanilla Cookie. He could try and lie to him.

Don't tell me you're just going to let that happen?

The familiar sound of your voice, if not a little more mature, tsked at you.

Some compassion you are, letting him suffer. Share me with him!

"Wh.. you can't be serious!" You whispered softly, your eyes wide. "That's too dangerous. What if Shadow Milk Cookie tries to corrupt us?"

I'm stronger than that, and so are you. Share me with him.

You bit your bottom lip, and Pure Vanilla Cookie rested a hand on your shoulder. "Reader Cookie?" He asked. "Are you alright-?"

He cut himself off when you spun to look at him and gently grabbed his hands. Your Soul Jam pulsed and a magic whipped out, forming a large bubble around the entire group.

"Huh?! Reader Cookie?!" Wizard Cookie clutched his staff.

Elder Faeire Cookie looked shocked. "This magic.."

You exhaled softly, and you resumed your old appearance once more. However, your wings were now visible, spread wide and grand.

"I have an idea on how to help you," you spoke, voice soft. "My only question is.. do you-"

"Yes." Pure Vanilla Cookie spoke, his voice soft and full of admiration. You blushed intensely. "I trust you, Reader Cookie."

You nodded and closed your eyes. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. "Then stay calm.. and open your heart to me."

Familiar magic, radiant and ever-changing in color, began to swirl around you two. Your Soul Jam was glowing particularly bright. Your wings gently glistened in the light, and your hair grew to the length it once was.

A familiar light form from the magic. It zipped and swirled around, your laughter coming from it.

Oh, what love! What compassion!

With what sounded like a joyful laugh, it zipped over to the duo, spun around them, and then shot towards Pure Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam.

The magic died down, and you let out an exhale. Then, you began to laugh softly. "That.. that worked! I didn't think it would..!"

"What was that?!" Wizard Cookie shouted, and you blushed sheepishly.

"I'm sure you saw that light.. that was the Light of Compassion in its purest form." You explained. Your form slowly began to shift back to the regular one you used. "It insisted that I share it with Pure Vanilla Cookie."

Said Cookie spared a glance at his Soul Jam, and there was a small petal pattern in the middle.

White Lily Cookie couldn't help a small smile. "It did mention something about love.."

"HAHA WHAT?" You laughed nervously. The barrier around the group fell, and you immediately rushed forward. "C'MON GUYS, LET'S GO GET SHADOW MILK COOKIE!"

Small bits of laughter came from the group, and Pure Vanilla Cookie felt a little lighter as he followed.

Well, hello there! What joy and love you hold in your heart..

The sound of your voice, yet more mature, echoed through his mind. Yet, as if like second nature, Pure Vanilla Cookie knew that it was the Light of Compassion.

Whenever that Shadow Milk Cookie comes back, trying to trick you, focus on me or Sparkling Joy Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie. We won't let him lead you astray!

"What you said.." He whispered softly. "About love. Did you mean it?"

Of course. It sounded almost amused. I do believe that you're the only one Sparkling Joy Cookie would show the full extent of their power to.

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn't help but feel honored.

But, of course, that didn't last long.

Especially not when Elder Faeire Cookie was struck down.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog

CLIFFHANGERRR!!

#yandere shadow milk cookie #yandere shadow milk cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere crk x reader #cosmos constellations #series: six becomes five

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erensbiscuit · 6 months ago

Text

Naoya x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, VIOLENCE; CHOKING

It was but another day at the state of the Zen'in clan, where you served as a mere servant. You were considered below the family members, and you were treated horribly due to your mother. You were a child that resulted from an affair, and to atone for her sin, you were sold to serve them for as long as you lived.

It wasn't fair, the fact that you had to atone for an action she very much committed. And that only meant you weren't related to them, which is why you were treated as such. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only reason you were treated like trash, but also because your father belonged to the Gojo clan; the rival clan of the Zen'in.

Yet, your mother was still married in the Zen'in clan even after her affair for she had children with her husband whom she had to look after, but she had abandoned you for all you were to her. You tried to get in contact with your father, but that was near impossible.

"Get out of my sight, child." His voice was cold and stoic, making a cold shiver pour down your spine as you quickly walked backwards, kneeling outside the door as you gave a deep bow, sitting up to close the door with your eyes shut as you couldn't bear the sight of the family that had abandoned you.

Your half siblings have followed in your mother's steps in ignoring you, pretending as if you don't exist.

Your entire body began shaking in anger, tears stinging your eyes as that feeling came all to known suddenly. You hated feeling like this, you hated being vulnerable. You despised the fact that even after so many years of mistreatment, you somehow couldn't find it in your heart to hate them.

To resent them.

That didn't change the fact you still felt lonely, unwanted, and despised for no real reason despite having the blood of another man run through your veins. A man that didn't belong to the Zen'in clan.

"How pathetic." You heard a voice speak up from behind you, and you quickly turned your head with wide eyes to see the youngest clan head, Naoya Zen'in. He stood leaning against a wooden post that held up the sheltering roof, his arms crossed as he looked down at you in distaste.

You blinked away your tears, turning your body to face him while still kneeling on the ground as you bowed your head. "Is there anything I may do for you, my lord?" Your gentle voice met his ears, and he frowned at the sight of you groveling at his feet, even if it was your job.

"Why don't you leave? Run away? Your presence is obviously unwanted here." He spat, voice cold and void, much like your mother's husband. "I live to serve you, nothing more. I am merely doing my job." You respond, blinking down at the wooden floor as you feel his glaring gaze on your figure.

"Your job? Can't you just quit? Or do you like getting pushed around by everyone?" He questioned, and you froze. Seems he didn't know about you, or just didn't care to remember, or know in the first place. "I was sold to the Zen'in clan. I'm only doing as told, my lord." You briefed him, not caring to go into further detail.

"Sold?" He questioned, a hum leaving his lips before the sound of footsteps fading became known, and you glanced up to see him walk away. You couldn't stop the small sigh of relief to leave you. "Why would Naoya care enough to inquire about someone like you?" Turning your head, you laid your eyes upon your oldest half brother.

"I'm afraid I don't know." You replied, standing up before bowing slightly. "If you'll excuse me." You state before turning around to walk away, only to feel your body have a whiplash. In an instant, the back of your head harshly met the wooden post, a hand curling around your throat as you looked up at your half brother.

"Know your fucking place, (Name). I suggest you bow your head lower next time and show some fucking respect." He spat, and you choked, not being able to get anything out as your supply of oxygen was abruptly cut, your face growing red and hot along with your eyes. "Ni-Sama!" You saw another one of your half siblings, her arm wrapping around his as she tugged him away.

Immediately, you fell onto your knees, arm supporting yourself as you coughed violently, hand ghosting over your own neck. "That's more like it." He scoffed. You remained on the ground, tears now rapidly falling down as they landed against the wood underneath you, pooling as you choke on your own sobs.

Your fingers harshly dug into the floor, nails scraping as your hands formed into fists while trembling. You remained there until it was late, hiding as you tried to calm yourself down. Before you came to realize it, the sun was long gone, only the moon in sight along with the shining stars, blanketing the night sky.

Slowly standing up as your legs trembled, you dusted off your plain white kimono with a purple obi wrapped around your waist. Sighing softly, you walked back onto the engawa, making your way past the rooms before finding your own. It was small and away from the main state, which was only natural.

After washing up, you walked into your room, laying out your futon until a knock was heard. Knitting your brows together, you wondered who it could be so late, especially at this hour. Nonetheless, you slid open the tatami door, finding a male servant. "The lord is asking for your presence. Follow me."

You widen your eyes. "But I am indecent! May I change first?" You said in a hurry, being dressed in a long white fitted nightdress with a long black and silky kimono robe over it. "No. He said it was rather urgent." He dismissed you, beginning to walk off as you could only walk out, shutting your door and following after him in a slight panic.

What could the young lord possibly want with you at such an ungodly hour? If anything, he should be resting right about now. So many questions flooded your mind, you hadn't realized the man before you halted until you nearly bumped into his back. You were now in the main estate towards the back, where the yard was and where the moonlight casted all of its glory.

Hearing the servant knock, you bowed down along with him at the door. "Go ahead." The man reached to slide the door open, revealing both of your figures to the young head. "I have brought her upon your request, my lord." The servant explained. "Good, you're dismissed." He brushed him off, and you heard the man stand up and leave and until his footsteps were no longer in earshot, you found your own voice.

"Excuse my indecency, my lord. I was told you called upon me urgently. Is there anything I can assist you with?" You inquired formally, eyes shut as you lifted your head slightly to place your palms on the floor, elbows folded. "Come inside." He demanded, and you tried to hold in your shock, standing up and stepping inside before then sliding shut the door behind you.

That left the room dark, nothing but the moonlight that casted in through the tatami doors remained, illuminating the room with its softened glow. You kneeled near the door once again, but you froze at the sound of his voice. "Come here." Naoya told you, and you glanced up, opening your eyes to see him sitting near the end of the room, atop a cushion where it was shaded.

You obeyed, walking up to him before kneeling down. Just as you were about to place your hands on top of your lap, you felt his hand abruptly grab your jaw and tug you towards him. Hands landing on the floor as you supported yourself off the ground, your eyes flickered up at him with shock.

Meeting his cold gaze, you saw a smirk tug the corner of his lips as you began to tremble from fear. It was displayed on you so clearly no matter how hard you tried to hide it. "Gojo, (Name). That's the name your mother gave you. It's almost like she wanted you to have a hard life after being sold to our clan. Imagine that? Your own mother abandoning and selling you?" His tone held a clear mocking tone, and you could only tremble.

"Now you serve your own half siblings and their father; a Zen'in." He paused, eyes taking in your figure before he frowned. "How utterly pathetic." He pushed your face away, your head abruptly turning from the force as you then widened your eyes, tears stinging the corners. You heard him get up, walking behind you before his hand reached over to wrap around your wrists, pulling you back against him.

"Imagine how they would feel, had you finally left. Ran away." He whispered into your ear, his breath brushing against your skin as his hand slid your opened robe down from your shoulders, revealing more of your skin. You felt something strange stir inside you at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your bare skin, it felt warm.

Sliding down the rest of your robe down your shoulders, now pooling on the floor underneath you, his face dug into the side of your head as he pulled you closer into his chest. "Imagine how they would feel if you became someone equal to their standing in this household." Your eyes widened, realization dawning on you like a lightbulb being switched on.

He smirked against your ear, and in an instant, you were turned around and pinned to the ground. Naoya held down your hands by holding your wrists as you stared up at him with wide eyes. Naoya admired the sight of you, underneath him with your hair sprawled on the ground underneath you, wearing but a white dress that was pure as you.

Beautiful as you.

He truly wanted nothing more than to make you his. The second he laid eyes on you three months ago, he had been following and keeping tabs on you, but it never occurred to him to look through the servants documents in order to search for your name and family history. To think you were a Gojo, even if there was only one powerful sorcerer among their bloodline, imagine a Zen'in with their blood.

Regardless of that possible fact, he wanted you. And he was gonna make you his, you will no longer serve anyone, but him and his needs. Grinning down at your form, he moved to press his lips against yours, and you merely followed his lead. You wouldn't resist, it would mean defying your lord, and who knows what punishment that action would have.

You were inexperienced, but you tried your best, mimicking his movements. But you couldn't keep up, his lips were moving quickly and desperately, tongue forcing itself into your mouth as your eyes were shut tightly, a faint whine escaping your lips as he explored your mouth.

Naoya smirked against your lips upon hearing the sweet sound to leave you, which encouraged him to do more. Everything was turning warm, and the feeling of him further pressing into your mouth, the more oxygen you ran out of. He pulled away, watching you gasp for air. Panting, you stared up at him with a flushed face, crimson painting your cheeks.

"Such a beauty." He whispers softly, removing his hand to place his palm beside your head, the other one caressing your face as he lowered it to your neck, and he glanced down. It was only until then did he notice a small bruise towards the side of your neck near the back, causing him to frown deeply.

Grabbing your chin, he turned your head to the side. "What is this?" He inquired, and already knowing what he was referring to, you could only remain silent, eyes down casting. "Answer me." He demanded stiffly, and you eventually did. "I was grabbed there, my lord." You tried to be curt, not going into detail.

But alas, he insisted. "Who was it?" He demanded now, and you avert your gaze, knitting your brows. "My half oldest brother, my lord." You forced out of your lips, feeling his fingers softly graze over the bruises before a scoff left his lips. "Why do you still protect them?" He questioned, but all you could do was remain silent.

Naoya frowned at that, but his hand trailed down from your neck to your chest, ghosting over your collarbones as he stared down at you, watching the way your eyes sealed shut and a slight knit settled between your eyebrows. Grinning, he suddenly stood up, and you sat up immediately, looking up at him as he continued to look down at your frame.

"Get up."

You immediately did as told, standing to your full height before him as you became too aware of how he towered over your shorter body. Naoya stepped towards you, now standing directly in front of you as there was nearly no space left in between you, and you felt as if this sudden mist was overtaking your senses.

His hands trailed up your arms, stopping at your shoulders until he lowered the straps of your dress, and your entire body stilled. He smirked, leaning his face into the side of yours as he lowered them all the way down your arms, until the dress finally pooled at your feet, leaving you utterly bare before the young head.

Your entire body grew hot, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, or the way Naoya grabbed your bare waist, pulling your body flush against his as he snaked a single arm around your back, his other hand grabbing your chin in order to tilt your head up. Eyes connecting with his own, he gazes at you with a sly smile before kissing you.

Naoya guided your arms to wrap around his neck, proceeding to grab your thighs and force them around his hips, carrying you in his arms before lowering himself back o to the floor, lips moving against your soft ones, biting down into your bottom lip with his teeth, his eyes fluttered open to see your face, watching how flustered you were with every touch, every graze, just anything.

Grabbing a fist full of your hair, he pulled your head back, and littered your neck and chest with kisses as your hold on his shoulders became tight, small gasps and whines escaping your parted lips. This was progressing quickly, and all you could do was follow the rhythm of his movements as you were but a clueless maid.

Eventually, he undid his robe, having you lay down below him once more as he continued to mark your skin, leaving trails of bruises and marks, and the noises that left you were all but encouragement to him and his actions. Eyes squeezing shut, Naoya softly trailed his hands along your sides and stopped at your waist, his face dug into your neck as he kissed, bit, and sucked at your sensitive spots.

Panting lightly, your legs tightened around his waist as you tugged him closer, hands running along his broad back while you traced his muscles with your fingers. "my lord" you breathed, and he pulled away from kissing your neck. "Naoya. Call me Naoya." He demanded, and you didn't have time to refute his words before he abruptly pulled away and sat up.

You blinked in surprise, glancing down as he lifted your leg over his shoulder, eyes staring into yours rather intensely as he slightly turned his head to the side and trailed kisses along your legs, pulling you closer towards him. "After this, you belong to me. Understand? Nobody can order you around but me." Naoya spoke to you but his tone was possessive, demanding.

You nodded your head, a soft breath escaping your parted lips as he continued to trail his hands along your body, kneeling right in between your legs as he dragged you down by your hips. You stared up at the ceiling, dazed and mind foggy as you anticipated his entrance, your heart beating to the sound of your heat and dripping warmth.

He was drawn in by your smell, the sight of you waiting and longing for him at the same time as he positioned himself to your entrance, and you felt him graze your sensitivity, a whine leaving your lips as you shut your eyes. Naoya leaned over your smaller frame, pressing his forehead to your temple while leaning into his elbows, his body pressing flush against yours.

Snaking your hand to reach around his back and hold onto his shoulders, your legs tightened around him as you felt what your body desired the most press into your folds until he finally sank himself into your warmth, and your entire body writhed at the burning feeling of him stretching you. Tears filled your waterline at the overwhelming burning yet pleasant sensation you felt as you hugged his length.

A gasp was forced out of your lips, and his face further burrowed into the side of yours as his hot breath hit your skin. "Good. So good." He whispered in breathes, further pressing himself into you with a low sound venerating deep within his chest. Naoya loved the feeling of your tightening walls around him, and that was such an addictive sensation that he could describe it as none other than a drug.

His hips slowly pulled back before sinking into you again, and your mouth gaped, head tipping back into the floor as he moved inside of you at a gut wrenching pace. Moaning softly, your fingers dug into his back as you tried to release the remaining tension in your body, back arching off the ground while your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he hit such a deep and sensitive spot within you.

It made you writhe, cry in pleasure as he breathed against your skin heavily, filling you to the brim and burrowing himself deep into your womb. Your mind felt foggy and blurry, nothing but sweet ecstasy burning your entire body. At some point his pace quickened, and your noises grew more sloppy and loud, heels digging into his back as your fingers entangled through his hair.

And once you felt that warmth pouring out of your body like lava, you moaned loudly, roughly tugging onto his locks, an act that earned a deep groan from Naoya, he eyes watching your face as waves of overwhelming pleasure rippled your body, especially when he didn't slow down his pace or give you time to recover as it built up again.

Your teary and glossy eyes met his, parted lips panting and at the sight of you, he grinned in satisfaction. He loved the fact that he was able to make you succumb to him and feel such pleasure, something only he could do. Pressing his forehead against yours, your panting mouths entangled together, and he desperately moved against you, deep and rough in every way as you whined and whimpered in return.

"Like that? Hm?" He bemused once pulling away from your heated kiss, still smirking as you couldn't find words to respond, your entire face blossoming with heat as sweat formed at your forehead. Still smiling, his hand lifted to run over it, swiping your hair from your forehead as some of it began to stick from the sweat.

Naoya was also sweating, skin glistening as a thin layer covered his skin. A tired smile stretched your lips, and you also moved the hair from his forehead with the palm of your hand, but you gasped, fingers entangling with his locks again as another orgasm reached your body, and he watched you in awe as you moaned his name sweetly, head tipping back you your eyes fluttered shut.

He then moved his head, digging his face into your neck as he kissed your skin, tasting the sweat that was salty against his tongue. Nonetheless, he kissed your skin, a deep frown settling between his brows as he felt himself start to twitch.

Naoya slid his hand underneath your neck, fingers entangling through your hair as he made you look at him with lidded eyes. "I'm gonna fill you up. And you're gonna take it all, okay?" His brows rose simultaneously, and you smiled at his words, cupping his face. "That would be a pleasure, my lord, Naoya." He didn't seem to care that you called him that, but a grin stretched his lips.

That's right, you were his. He was your lord, and you'd do anything for him, even take his seed as it filled your womb to the brim, until your belly was swollen with his child. "Yeah? You're gonna take it well?" He taunted, and you nodded your head again, still smiling gently. His movement grew sloppy, now he just ruthlessly bucked his hips into yours and you moaned and mewled softly, hands trailing back to his nape and tugging his hair until that same bubble burst within you.

This time, Naoya came down with you, panting breathily as his forehead pressed to your shoulder, hands tightening over the matted floor as he thrusted every last of his seed inside of you, filling you to the brim as a soft whine left your lips, eyes shut tight as you override your sweet orgasm.

“Good job in taking me, you have my praise.”

You couldn't possibly ask for more.

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