#okay i’m going to bed… thank u for the well wishes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loko4koko · 1 year ago

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·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you��your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader

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4ranghaes · 1 month ago

Note

Leehan song fic? 🤲

Saw u have the flu I hope u get better soon <3

song fic!💋

now playing… rises the moon by liana flores

kim leehan x reader [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

a/n - thank you for your well wishes pookie i’m actually recovering at a crazy pace! still have a fucked up voice though🥲 enjoy!!!

00:19 - “stop moving,” a calm voice calm from behind you.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, turning over again to look at your boyfriend.

donghyun’s eyes suddenly widened, regretting his earlier comment as he saw your eyes filled with tears. “it’s okay! i’m sorry! what’s wrong, darling?”

you shook your head, taking a breath as he pulled you into his chest, stroking the back of your head calmly.

“no, no, it’s okay,” you sniffled, chuckling at his concern, “i just can’t sleep at all and i don’t know why.”

“i’m sorry, my love,” donghyun said. neither of your voices had risen much above a whisper, besides being the only two people in your apartment.

“i’m so tired too,” you whined in a small voice, your forehead pressed against his chest, feeling his heart steadily beating and his calm breath.

leehan sighed, kissing the top of your head gently, “i’m gonna get up okay? i’ll be back in a minute though. you just lay down and try to relax.”

you nodded, pulling yourself away from your boyfriend’s body, collecting yourself after your tears and nestling into the pillows on your double bed, mainly donghyun’s, retaining his scent even as he walked to your window, opening the curtains so the moon was visible to you from where you lay in bed. he then left the room completely, and when he appeared again he was carrying a mug and a packet of chocolate.

“my mum always helped me go to sleep when i was little like this,” he murmured, handing you the warm mug before getting into bed beside you, holding you up against his body, but not so much you were sat up completely. “honey tea, chocolate, and watching the moon.”

“watching the moon?” you smiled, leehan nodding definitively.

“it’s relaxing. plus, helps you to know that it’s night,” he said, before pausing and pulling a face, “i know it sounds stupid, but it’s there, you know? we always used to say ‘good night mr. moon’ but really that meant hello for him.”

you chuckled, sipping the tea slowly as you leaned into donghyun’s body, “that’s sweet.”

he smiled, kissing the top of your head as, you did in fact, watch the moon. you put the tea down, having some chocolate and offering some to donghyun too, he took it, nibbling slowly, but mostly watching you.

“here, lay down,” he whispered, scooting your bodies further down the bed before placing his hand on your head, moving it into his chest, “close your eyes. breathe.”

you did as he said, taking a deep breath, your body relaxing into donghyun’s on the out breath.

“good night, my love,” he whispered, his arm rubbing steady patterns on your arm.

your eyelids felt heavy as your arm stayed strongly wrapped around his waist, your head on his chest and you leg slung around his hips. “good night, hyunnie.”

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crappymixtape · 5 months ago

Text

because of you • part five

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 2.5k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T F I V E 🎶 silhouette, aquilo

❝ DEVIL’S ON YOUR SHOULDER, STRANGERS IN YOUR HEAD, AS IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER, AS IF YOU CAN FORGET ❞

Light fell through the open window in Steve’s parents’ bedroom, washing everything in a soft, eerie orange. Bright, hopeful rays of sunlight choked out by plumes of ash and smoke creeping out of the ground. The curtains billowed softly over the window ledge, carrying with them the all too familiar scent of decay and dirt, damp rotted leaves and thick vines. Demobat wings and the suffocating press of desiccated scales on your neck and–

You started with a gasp, hands fisting into the sheets as you turned in bed and found pain. Sharp and pinching. Freezing you on the spot and pulling a whimper from your lips as your wounds from the night before made themselves known again.

Death had dragged you so close you could touch it, had felt it wrapping around you like a dark cloak until…

Something warm and soft brushed against your waist, a hand moving gently over the sliver of skin there, exposed when your oversized shirt had shifted in sleep. The same hand that had shattered death’s grasp and pulled you back to live the rest of your life. A hand that had so carefully tended to each cut and scrape and gash, had so tenderly patched you up and held you through it all.

Steve.

Brows knitted together in discomfort, you turned your head ever so slightly, lashes fluttering open to see another set of eyes looking back at you – burnt caramel, honey and brown sugar.

Worried, relieved, apologetic.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly, voice scratchy with sleep and fingers still resting gently at your waist, afraid to move them, afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“It’s my leg,” you squeezed your eyes closed, wincing at the friction of the sheet against the stitches.

“Shit,” Steve whispered, quickly rolling onto his back and bending his knee to create a pocket of air between your body and the fabric. “Better?”

All you could manage was a small murmur of thanks and it pulled his gaze back to you, eyes searching for something. What it was he didn’t know, but he was sure he would as soon as he saw it.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his hand seeking you out, tangling his fingers together with yours.

The long sweep of his dark lashes brushed the tops of his cheekbones, freckles dotting along the bridge of his nose, twin moles pressed at his jaw, lips pulled down in concern. Pretty even like this. Even when he wasn’t smiling.

“Guess I couldn’t handle it last night,” you half-laughed thinking about the way you’d paled when he’d looped thread through the needle and it pulled a little grin out of him until you winced again.

“I don’t think I could have either,” he reassured you, “Six stitches, you took ‘em like a champ.” The look he gave you then set your heart skipping in your chest before settling between your ribs, warm and reassuring.

“Six?” you gaped.

Pulling the sheets up to look down at your leg for the first time since last night you expected to feel sick, but instead found something surprising. Six neat stitches, not quite straight, but clean and tidy and done with care.

“You…you did that?” you asked, eyes blinking back at Steve.

“What? Didn’t think I could?” he teased gently and it made the corner of your mouth pull up into a half-smirk.

“Well–no, but…” your cheeks warmed, heat creeping across your face as you bit your bottom lip in.

He studied you then for a minute, eyes mapping over your face and memorizing every little detail, every little piece of you, pieces he wished he could keep forever.

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly, fingers still looped between yours and you answered with a silent nod. “Last night, before I went to the Creel house I wanted to ask you if–if I could take you out. You know, after we saved the world or whatever–” he huffed a small laugh and shook his head, “Guess we botched that.”

You almost laughed at the way he’d tried to soften the weight of his question, but his words were running on a loop in your head — take you out. They set something fluttering in your chest, your stomach flipping over and cheeks warming again.

“You want to take me out?”

“Yeah. I do. I really, really do.”

The way he was looking at you, like you held his world in your hands, had you breathless, heart hammering against your ribs and his palm pressed to yours under the sheets sent a flicker of heat up your arm, crept into your bloodstream and swam through every inch of you.

It had been survival, instinct how you hardened yourself against having to watch him walk away and how the sight of it put an ache in your chest more painful than the stitches on your thigh, but it all came back now when he looked at you. Washed over you like a wave on the sand, wearing down all your rough edges and smoothing them slow and sure – you realized you’d been carrying those feelings all along.

At Max’s trailer when he swore to stand by your best friend.

In the parking lot when he pulled you back from Vecna.

With your back to his chest and his hands pressed into yours over the handle of his bat.

The moment he all too willingly put himself between you and death without hesitation.

“Steve…” your throat squeezed around his name and his hand tightened on yours.

“What–what is it?” his brows pinched together, “Dammit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you—”

“No-no, it’s not that,” you sucked in a breath and squeezed your eyes shut against everything this boy, this man, made you feel. “I just…I hated you, so much. I didn’t believe Eddie when he said you’d changed, told him he was full of shit, but I was wrong. I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit and I’m sorry–”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he hushed, bringing his free hand up to gentle brush away the tears that had started to spill quietly down your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, so I don’t blame you,” he shifted closer to you under the sheets, careful of your leg. “I hated me too for a long time,” he chuckled a little under his breath and gave you a small smile. “And I know I have more work to do, but…maybe-if you want to-you could give me another shot? A do over.”

You were surprised at the laugh that fell from your lips, a small wobbly thing as you wiped at the rest of your tears. “A do over?”

“Yeah. Here–” he let go of your hand and scooted back just a little and the distance made your fingers want to reach for him again. Come back. “Hi,” he said, smile growing.

“Hi?” you said, more question than statement and a little confused and it pulled a full grin out of him.

“I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

You bit back a snort, who was he James Bond? And it made him laugh until his hands found yours again and your skin sighed in relief – finally.

“Nice to meet you,” you said and he shifted back into you, hip to hip, chest to chest, careful still of your thigh and the touch of your skin on his skin melted the smiles from both your faces. Laughs quieted into hitched breaths and racing hearts.

Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, Steve’s jaw ticked as he swallowed down the nerves you’d pulled from his belly. “Would you–I mean…can I–can I kiss you?” he asked, unsure and unsteady, vulnerable and exposed, the real Steve and the Yes that fell from your lips came fast, sounding so much more like please, please, please, and you didn’t have to ask him twice.

His lips caught yours, fit them against his like two sides of a locket, perfect, and it made you lightheaded again, but this time when you opened your eyes you found his – honey and whiskey and liquid amber, warm like the sun and your heartbeat tattooed Steve, Steve, Steve on the inside of your ribs.

He smiled as you traced the curve of his cupid’s bow with your gaze, so soft, so lovely, so much more than you ever could have imagined and his gravity drew you back into him, pulling his bottom lip between yours – more, more, more – and he sighed, running his fingers through the baby hairs at the nape of your neck.

It was slow and languid, searching and curious, but heat simmered just under the surface. Waiting, patient, warm, and when Steve’s tongue traced the seam of your lips your reservations cracked, kerosene on the flames, and you both caught fire.

❝ IT’S ONLY BEEN A MOMENT, IT’S ONLY BEEN A LIFETIME, BUT TONIGHT YOU’RE A STRANGER, SOME SILHOUETTE, HOLD ME ❞

Grazing your teeth over his lip, you bit down softly and a groan rumbled in his chest, a low sound that made you press your thighs together, the want between your legs suspending your pain for a moment.

“Christ,” Steve choked, pulling away from you just enough to suck in a breath, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut, wrecked already. “Sorry,” he half-laughed, “You’re gonna kill me if you keep kissing me like that, Princess.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose of last night,” you tried to joke, but when he opened his eyes again and looked at you it scattered all of your faux confidence to the wind.

“Yeah,” he breathed, inching closer and closer to you, running his thumb along your bottom lip and settling it at the corner, “But dying like this doesn’t seem so bad.”

And then he kissed you again, but this time it was heated, his fingers pressed into the plush of your hips while yours tangled into his hair and it pulled another groan from him. He swallowed the soft, sweet sounds you gave him and then begged for more as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, your lips parting to let him in to taste you.

None of it felt real – lying in bed next to Steve as he sucked pretty, little, lilac marks onto your skin, not wanting it to stop, wanting him to be this close forever.

He nosed at your neck and your chin tilted up to give him more access, your hands leaving his hair to trace the muscles stretched across back through the threadbare fabric of his shirt.

“Y’okay? Gotta tell me, Princess,” he said, lips moving on your skin as you pulled in a shaky breath.

“Ye-yeah, yes,” your voice pitched up at the end in a whine as he kissed the hollow behind your ear.

He smiled against you and your mouth twitched with a smile of your own.

“What?” you asked wryly, chin still tilted and he pushed himself up on his hands, propped up over the top of you, so he could look down at you.

“You don’t hate me,” he beamed down at you, echoed your words from just a minute ago and it made you blush, your lips twisting. Caught. A little bratty and a lot enamored.

“I don’t hate you, Steve Harrington,” you said again, softening under his gaze and unable to help the way your heart skipped when he dipped down to press another kiss to your lips.

“Say my name again. Please,” he murmured, trailing his mouth down your shoulder, your forearm, your wrist – his hand gently taking yours to lift it and place a kiss to your palm.

“Steve,” you whispered, but it caught at the end when you felt his tongue on your skin. It pulled your gaze up to look at him and you found his brows pinched together, eyes squeezed shut. “Steve?” you said again, your hand turning his to tug it down and hold it close to your chest.

“I just–Christ. I thought you were gonna die out there and after all that awful shit I said to you–”

Leaning up you pushed your lips to his and swallowed his words, mumbling to him, nuh uh. “But I’m still here, make it up to me,” you told him, eyes locked on one another and suspended in time, held in the muddled, amber light falling through the window.

“How? Tell me.”

And you took his hand, the one still held in yours, and trailed it down your chest, over the soft plush of your stomach, across the thigh that wasn’t hurting and down between your legs.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes closing again for a minute at how wet you were, and he pulled in a shaky breath.

“I’m here–” you whispered again, “–and I want this, with you.”

Nodding he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, fingers moving slowly where you’d placed them, slipping in your slick and it make you gasp. “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he said and god, you believed him.

He moved his fingers slow at first, a little tentative, a little shy, but the minute he pulled a moan from your lips he found his confidence again. Picked up the pace and moved over you at just the right speed in all the right places. Circled your clit with his thumb and slipped first one finger then two into you.

“Faster, Steve,” you gasped and he answered with the press of a kiss to your jaw, the corner of your mouth, pulled your bottom lip between his and sucked and you felt yourself sprinting to the edge.

“I’ve got you. Let go, baby, let go,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, fingers working you closer and closer. “Here, look at me,” he breathed, heart hammering in his chest, and when you met his eyes – warm honey, burnt caramel, safe, Steve – your hips stuttered.

Wrapping your arms tight around the back of his neck, you wanted – no needed – him closer, closer, closer until finally the coil settled deep in your stomach snapped and you fell apart on his fingers. Arched your back up off the mattress and pressed your body into his, the stitches on your thigh screaming, but the feeling of Steve between your legs was louder.

And there in that room, while the world burned outside the window, you made a promise to each other that even if everything was falling apart, even if you didn’t know what happened next, you’d be there. You’d choose to try again. Choose forgiveness and surrendered to each other. Let go of the past in favor of what was there in front of you. Beating hearts and handfuls of sheets, kisses dragged over skin and breaths taken away and Steve. Steve. Steve.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART FIVE OF A FIVE PART SERIES, POTENTIAL BLURBS MAY COME AT A LATER DATE ;) ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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seoktized · 6 months ago

Text

mdni.

a/n: this gyub rot is killing me PLS i need him so bad.. reblogs are very appreciated <3 thank u for reading :3

warnings: cursing, phone sex, gyuvin calls reader ‘bunny’ + other pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, doll), toy usage.

»»————-　♡　————-««

imagine teasing gyuvin by sending him pics of you all dolled up in a pretty pink set, sending it with a message saying ‘miss you tons’

gyuvin was shocked, you knew he was filming for their new comeback. but he also knew you didn’t care. you just wanted a reaction out of him.

you smirked as texts from gyuvin began flooding in, but the last text was accompanied by a picture.

a picture of his hand resting over his bulge, his jeans down around his ankles. you assumed the photo was taken in the bathroom of the building they were filming in.

‘call me.’

you sat up on the bed, propping your phone up before hitting the facetime button. excitement flowing through your veins as you waited for gyuvin to pick up.

when the call connected you were greeting with an annoyed gyuvin.

“you couldn’t wait until i got home? you’re that needy?” he questioned. you watched as his eyes darted around the screen, taking in your pretty form.

you nodded, “i’m sorry, gyuv.. i was layin’ here and i started thinkin’ about you. i wanted to surprise you.”

“well, bunny, your little surprise got me hard,” he chuckled before shuffling a bit, “now you’re gonna help me out cause i cant film like this.”

there was a pause before he flipped the camera around, revealing his hard cock. the tip red and leaking as he slowly stroked himself.

“c’mon, bun, don’t be shy.” he said lowly.

you moved back on the bed, spreading your legs for gyuvin. he watches as you teasingly pulled off your panties.

“fuck, you don’t think you’ve teased me enough? don’t wanna have to punish your more later.” he said through gritted teeth.

your eyes trailed over to your nightstand, remembering you had a dildo stashed in there for whenever gyuvin wasn’t around.

“wait a sec,” you squeaked before moving out of the camera to grab the toy.

gyuvin’s hand stopped at the base of his cock, waiting for you to come back into view. when he saw what was in your hand, he cursed under his breath.

you quickly adjusted yourself and spread your legs once again, this time reaching down to rub the toy up and down your slick. you moaned as it brushed against your clit.

“put it inside, bun,” he groaned, “i gotta go back soon.”

you nodded and pushed the dildo in slowly, the stretch making your head tilt back and your eyes flutter shut.

“mmm, fuck, gyuvin. wish it was you..” you moaned out.

gyuvin winced, tightening his grip on his cock, imagining it was your cunt wrapped around his length. you opened your eyes, titling your head back down to watch as gyuvin fucked his hand.

a whine escaped your lips as the tip of the dildo reached deep inside your pussy, almost feeling like gyuvin’s.

“that’s it, pretty girl. shit- you gonna cum for me? make a mess all on the bed?” gyuvin’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching as your cunt sucked in the toy.

you cried out, nodding profusely at gyuvin’s words. your free hand snaked down to your clit, drawing circles on the bundle of nerves.

“cum for me, bunny.” he groaned.

the stimulation to your clit and the rasp of gyuvin’s voice was all it took to send you over the edge. gyuvin came at the sight of your convulsing form, a stream of curses flowing from his mouth.

you whimpered as you slid the dildo out and you heard a sharp intake of air from gyuvin.

“ready for you to get home, gyu.” you said with a loopy grin on your face. you sat up to grab your phone then fell back onto the bed.

gyuvin had now turned the camera and you could see his flushed cheeks.

“you’re in for a long night, sweetheart.” his eyes narrowed before a loud knock echoed throughout the room.

“gyuvin? you okay in there? you’ve been gone for like 30 minutes.”

you couldn’t make out who the voice was, but gyuvin rolled his eyes, replying “yea, i’ll be out in a sec.” to the person outside.

“see you later, doll. no more pictures like that while i’m at work okay? can’t risk the boys seeing ‘em.” he said.

you nodded, “mhmm okay, gyuv. see you later, i love you.”

“i love you more,” gyuvin replied before he hung up, quickly scrambling to get out of the bathroom and finish filming so he could go home.

‘time to plan another surprise’ you thought to yourself.

#seoktized.zb1 #kim gyuvin smut #gyuvin smut #gyuvin hard hours #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin imagines #gyuvin hard thoughts #zb1 smut #zb1 hard thoughts #zb1 hard hours #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone hard thoughts #zerobaseone hard hours

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sturnsbae · 8 months ago

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can you write about matt and the reader based on the songs better by Khalid and that way by tate McRae?

thank you❤️

BETTER THAT WAY - MATT STURNIOLO

ok the header is so ugly im sorry pls ignore that.

this was VERY rushed and it’s not at all proofread so im sorry if it has mistakes lol

summary: you and matt are keeping things on the low from everyone, but once you start catching feelings it starts to get complicated.

—

it was around september when matt had followed you on instagram, and only a few days later that he had started texting you. it all started off pretty harmless until you suddenly found yourself inviting him over at ungodly hours and smelling him on your sheets the next day.

you can’t help but wonder if maybe you hadn’t followed him back that things would be different, but looking at the chemistry and sexual tension between the two of you, it was inevitable that something would start between you guys. the hardest part of it all surprisingly wasn’t trying to hide it from his brothers, they were clueless, the real issue was avoiding any and all rumors from the fans. this meant no liking each others instagram posts, and most definitely no visible hickeys.

“fuck matt, don’t leave a hickey,” you moan softly as his lips suck the skin on your neck. he pulls back from your neck and hovers over you, looking down at you with a pout.

“i’m sorry, baby, but i can’t have your fans trying to decode who the hell left a big lovebite on my neck,” you chuckle, thinking back to how both of your guys fandoms had reacted when you started following each other on social media.

“hmph, i know. i just wish i could let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he sighs as he rolls off of you and sits up on the edge of the bed. his words feel like a stab in the heart. there’s nothing more that you want than to be able to be public about your… situation… with matt. it wasn’t clear what you guys were, but the big red scratches along his back were a tell tale sign that you guys were at least something.

“oh my god matt, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim as you trace the raw scratches on his back.

he chuckles, “no baby, i’m sorry. i must’ve fucked you too well,” he winks. you just roll your eyes and toss him his shirt that was laying on the floor next to your side of the bed.

“drive safe okay?” you say to him, giving him a small peck on the cheek before he walks off into the dark late night air. he smiles at you before driving away, leaving you with a small pain in your heart. you wish you guys could just doze off into a sleep in each others arms, but you can’t and it kills you. being famous comes at a cost apparently.

—

matty | are you going to larrays bday party tn?

y/n! | yeah i am! are you?

matty | yep! i’m excited to u ;)

y/n! | omfg if we get caught that’s on you

matty | oh please i know how to lock a bathroom door 🙄

y/n! | yeah okay whatever i’ll see u later matt 😭

and just like that, you found yourself putting extra effort into your outfit and makeup for tonight. you subconsciously found yourself putting on your smallest black dress, and putting on matt’s favorite lipstick.

“y/n! it’s so good to see you love!” tara says as she greets you at the door of the party.

“tara hi!! ive missed you it’s been too long!” you exclaim as you hug your friend. as your head scans the room, you notice matt holding a soda in his hand.

“i’ll see you around, okay?” you smile at her before scurrying over to your friends. you all take a shot, which leads to at least two other rounds.

“you look so hot, y/n! you never dress up this much! what’s the reason?” your friend exclaims over the music.

“eh, just felt like it!” you blush, trying to hold back from exposing your secret fling with matt sturniolo, who happens to be staring at you from across the room with a smirk on his lips, admiring you from afar.

“are you… looking at matt?” your friend whispers in your ear, immediately bringing you back to reality.

“what?! oh my god! no! i just zoned out a bit, but anyways lets take another shot yeah?” you say as your eyes widen, trying to think of any way to distract your friend from what she just saw.

after a few minutes, you feel your phone buzz. you look down at see a text from matt.

matty | upstairs bathroom. now.

you bite the insides of your cheeks, stumbling a little as you make your way up the stairs. as you enter the bathroom you see matt waiting for you.

“well hello sir,” you smirk.

“you look… fuck,” he says before he pulls you towards him and places his lips on yours. you chuckle into the kiss as your hands run wildly through his hair. matt gentle lifts you up and places you on the bathroom counter, placing himself between your legs and attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“mmm, matt,” you moan out, gripping his hair gently. matt works his lips all over your body, making your head fall back.

“matty, are you gonna fuck me or what?” you giggle out, clearly drunk.

“absolutely not, y/n. you’re drunk,” he says sternly.

“cmon please? you can’t just drag me up here and give me nothing,” you whine. he just smiles at you and kisses your forehead softly.

“i’m sorry, baby. i’ll come over tomorrow night, okay?” he says, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. him saying this makes you upset. it reminds you that you’re just his secret sex toy.

you roll your eyes and hop off of the counter, “matt what even are we? i’m so tired of this secretive shit! it’s been like two months of this,” you slur out, very very clearly drunk.

“what? what do you mean?”

you just roll your eyes, “you heard me matt, i wanna be more than this! i like you! a lot!”

“y/n, you’re drunk. we’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“yeah whatever matt, i’m going back downstairs,” you say, scurrying back down to your friends.

“where the hell were you? you were gone for like… ever!” one of your friends drunkenly states.

“sorry! there was a line in the bathroom, but let’s take more shots pleaseeeee,” you beg, trying to get matt out of your mind and have a good night.

before you even realize it, you’re so drunk that you can barely even function, you’re pure giggles. matt has secretly been keeping at eye on you all night, making sure his girl isn’t getting into trouble.

“matt, we don’t mean to be intrusive but you’ve been staring at y/n all night. is there something going on there?” nick asks his brother, as chris nods his head agreeing with nicks question.

“it’s complicated, i’ll explain later. but i think she’s mad at me, and she’s also really fucking drunk. you guys wouldn’t be mad if i took her home tonight right?” matt asks.

“of course not man, do whatever you need. we won’t ask any questions… well, not until later. you owe us some sort of explanation,” chris laughs.

matt just rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to you, “hey y/n. you’re really drunk, i’m gonna take you home okay?”

“matt! stop it! why are you talking to me! you’re gonna expose our secret!” you exclaim, not realizing how loud you’re being, but no one is really paying attention.

“i don’t care about that anymore, i just wanna make sure you get home safe. please just let me drive you home?” he asks as he wraps an arm around you.

“ugh whatever,” you roll your eyes as you walk off with matt, waving goodbye to your friends who have a puzzled look on their faces.

“nick! hi! i haven’t seen you all night!” you squeal as you get settled in the backseat next to nick.

nick chuckles a little, “hi y/n, it’s good to see you!”

“am i just chopped liver up here?” chris jokes from the front seat.

“oh god no! hi chris!” you exclaim. the boys just laugh softly at your happiness. at a red light matt turns around and looks at you, “y/n i have a sweatshirt somewhere back there if you want it.”

you smile at him, “awww thank you matty!” you find the light gray sweatshirt on the floor by your feet and slip it on, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne that tends to linger in your sheets.

you arrive at your house, and matt walks you to the door. he reaches around the potted plant that sits on your doorstep and grabs the hidden key. “oh my god, i forgot i told you about that!” you say as he unlocks the door for you, smiling at your not so sober state. he then helps you take your makeup off and even helps unzip your dress.

“thank you matty, i love you,” you mutter out as you start to doze off, snuggled in the sheets with matt’s hoodie loosely hugging your body.

matt’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink at your words, and he wishes he could say it back but he’s much rather wait until you’re sober so you can remember it. “goodnight y/n, i’m sorry i upset you earlier. but i’m gonna make you mine, i promise,” he whispers as he places a gentle kiss on your temple and shuts of the lights.

he locks up your house and heads back to the car, where his brothers sit with a million questions, but they can tell now is not a good time to ask. so they don’t.

—

it’s now late the next day, and you’re finally recovering from your hangover when you get a text from matt.

matty | are u home? i wanna take you somewhere

y/n! | yeah i’m home. everything okay?

matty | i’ll be there in 5

you immediately jump out of bed and rush to put on at least a little mascara and change out of your pajamas into something a little less wrinkled and lazy.

you get into matt’s car and look at him with a puzzled, but happy, look. “so can i ask what’s up?”

“i wanna take you somewhere first before i tell you. but how are you feeling?”

you can’t help but laugh a little, “god i regret my choices last night. i drank way too much.”

“yeah i could tell,” he chuckles.

“thank you so much for taking me home, by the way. i really really appreciate it.”

“always, y/n.”

a few minutes later you guys arrive at a park and matt tells you to stay in the car while he grabs a few things from the trunk. he then walks off into the park and tells you to not look until he comes back to get you, so that’s exactly what you do.

“alright m’lady, come with me!” he laughs as he takes your hand and leads you out of the car and to a small picnic set up.

“matt oh my god! you did not!” you gasp, turning to him with a big smile.

“oh but i did,” he smiles as he sits down on the blanket.

“matt! this is the cutest thing anyone’s ever done for me!” you pout, hugging him gently as you sit down. you guys get settled before he takes your hand in his.

“alright well, the whole reason i did this was because last night you and i got into a little argument. i don’t know if you remember, but you had told me off for keeping this entire thing a secret and admitted your feelings for me. and i just wanted to say that i really, really like you a lot too, so i wanted to make this official. i’m so tired of having to hide you, i wanna show you off. so will you be my girlfriend?”

your heart flutters, and you immediately nod your head before kissing his lips softly.

“so i’m taking that as a yes?” matt chuckles.

“of course matt!”

“good, i’m glad. i’m so glad that i get to publicly call you mine. it’s better that way.”

#matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you

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luvzshy · 3 months ago

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can u do a fic when Billie helps the reader when grieving her parents and like maggie steps up to be like a mom to her ❤️❤️

In The Silence

The weight of grief felt unbearable as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the photos that lined your walls—each snapshot a memory of laughter, love, and the life you had shared with your parents. Their absence created a void that was impossible to ignore, each passing day amplifying the ache in your heart.

The familiar sound of soft footsteps echoed outside your room. It was Billie. You could always count on her to know when you needed her most. The gentle knock on your door was followed by her hesitant voice. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billie stepped inside, her expressive eyes reflecting the concern that had been growing since the day you’d received the news. She walked over and sat beside you, her presence a comforting weight. Without a word, she took your hand, intertwining your fingers, grounding you in that moment.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I wish I could take away the pain.”

You turned to her, tears spilling over. “I just feel so lost without them,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Billie leaned closer, her heart-shaped face filled with empathy. “It’s okay to feel that way. Grieving is messy and complicated. You don’t have to go through it alone. I’m right here.”

As you met her gaze, the love you shared shimmered in the air, reminding you that you had someone by your side. Just then, the door opened wider, and Maggie walked in with a warm smile and a tray of snacks.

“Thought you two could use some comfort food,” she said, her motherly instincts kicking in. She set the tray down, revealing hot chocolate and a plate of your favorite cookies, still warm from the oven.

“Thanks, Mom,” Billie said, her voice brightening as she took a cookie and handed it to you.

Maggie’s smile softened as she looked at you. “I know it’s tough right now. But I’m here for you too. You’re not alone in this.”

Taking a deep breath, you took a sip of the hot chocolate, letting the warmth spread through you. Maggie’s kindness was a balm to your aching heart. “I appreciate it. Really,” you murmured, feeling the tears welling again.

Billie nudged you playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember all those late-night baking sessions? We made the biggest mess in the kitchen.” Her laughter was a beautiful sound, and it made you smile through your tears.

“Yes! And we tried to hide it from Maggie,” you recalled, a small smile breaking through the sadness.

Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. “I always knew. I could smell the chaos from a mile away.”

The three of you fell into an easy conversation, the laughter slowly weaving its way into the fabric of your grief. Maggie shared stories of your parents, reminding you of their love and warmth. With each story, you felt a little less alone, as if they were still with you in spirit.

As the evening wore on, Billie leaned her head on your shoulder, her presence calming. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling.”

You nodded, grateful for her unwavering support. “I just don’t want to bring anyone down.”

“Sweetheart,” Maggie interjected gently, “letting yourself grieve doesn’t bring others down. It’s a part of healing. And we’re all here to support you, no matter what.”

Billie lifted her head, her gaze steady and sincere. “We’ll get through this together, one day at a time.”

In that moment, surrounded by the love of Billie and Maggie, you felt a flicker of hope igniting within you. Maybe you could navigate this pain, not by pushing it away but by embracing it alongside those who loved you. Together, you would honor the memories of your parents, cherishing the bond that still connected you all.

As you shared laughter, tears, and stories that night, the heaviness in your heart began to lighten. You knew the journey ahead would be difficult, but with Billie and Maggie by your side, you felt ready to face it. You weren’t alone; you had a family in them, and together, you would find a way to heal.

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish imagine

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 1 year ago

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Hii i saw you have requests open and I was wondering if you'd write about DILF!Jean falling for his son babysitter (he's divorced already and he was when they met) or DILF jean headcannons in general

Hope u can and if not it's okay,have a nice Christmas!! Take care♡

pairing: dilf!jean x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

content + warnings: nothing really. just fluff & some kissing.

a/n: this was sooo fun to write tbh! thank u for ur request!! i hope you had a nice christmas!!

not too long ago, you started working for jean kirstein. well, more like baby-sitting. jean kirstein was a rich, recently divorced dad of one. he had a son who was about two years old and cute as all hell. despite jean not needing to work one more day in his life, he chose to. he wanted to set a good example for his son and quite frankly, he’d be too bored sitting around his house everyday. that’s when he found you, a nice young girl who had experience in babysitting.

when jean first met you, he could tell you were an ideal hire. you were well dressed. you weren’t wearing anything ‘slutty’ or too comfortable. plus, you were easy on his eyes. and his son had taken an immediate liking to you, which was the most important thing to jean. he didn’t hesitate to give you the job and he promised to pay you handsomely. hell, even if he didn’t pay you, you’d consider the job due to the fact of how good looking he was. you thought every woman in town should be jealous of you.

as time went on, you and jean developed a more than professional relationship. you two became friends. he liked you particularly because you’d listen unlike all of the douchebags at work. he liked that he’d come home to a clean house, a fed and in bed baby, and a pretty girl, although he told himself he’d never admit that to you. jean appreciated that you never complained about the hours and always offered to help out with other things around the house. jean knew he could count on you.

there became a time jean started looking at you differently. you weren’t sure quite when it started. the first time you noticed was when you were doing the dishes after you and his kid had just finished dinner. jean had gotten home early unexpectedly. you didn’t hear the front door open due to the running water. the sound of jean clearing his throat was enough to make you jump and drop a dish in the sink. luckily for you, it didn’t break. you turned the water off and turn around to find your boss leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.” your words fall out in a rush. to your surprise, jean just laughs. his eyes are shimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on. that was the first night you suspected something was up with him.

after that, jean started paying you more. you weren’t going to complain. jean kept that glint in his eyes, at least whenever he was around you. you couldn’t help the feeling that his eyes were always on you when he’d come home. then, he started having you help out with his son when he was home. he said something along the lines of, “i want to work from home more to be more available for my son but that doesn’t mean i can always keep the best eye on him. i’d appreciate your help more than you’d know, (y/n.)”

how could you say no when he’d say your name like that?

eventually, staying during the day turned into staying for dinner. jean’d cook and you’d watch the baby while he did. jean’s son was an easy baby and you were grateful. you were being paid a lot more than you deserved. you liked staying for dinner. you liked playing housewife even if your fantasy was just one sided. or at least that’s what you thought.

you and jean continued on with this charade for a few months, blissfully unaware of the other’s feelings. you wish you could be with him. you’ve seen the type of man he is. he’s thoughtful, caring, a great cook, a great dad and incredibly handsome. the list goes on. on the other hand, jean was noticing all sorts of things about you. like the way you’d tie your hair up before getting a head start on the chores. or the way you’d blush when he’d pull a chair out for you. or how natural you looked holding his son.

everything changed one night. you had stayed extra late this particular night. jean had meetings all night long. he was doing them virtually but insisted you stay incase his kid woke up. you obliged, secretly hoping he’d ask you to stay. eventually, you pass out on the couch with the baby monitor on the coffee table in front of you.

you wake the next morning to find a blanket covering you. you start to panic, realizing you had fallen asleep on the job, when you were supposed to be keeping an ear out for cries. you dart up, looking for you phone to look at the time. it’s bright in the room and you know it’s the next day. you wander in the kitchen to find jean sitting at the table, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. he’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajamas. you had never seen this look on him and quite frankly, he looked as good as ever.

he set the newspaper down at your arrival. immediately, you began profusely apologizing for your carelessness. jean smiles.

“i wouldn’t have let you stay if you weren’t wanted.”

these words make you blush. they make you realize how bad you want him and how you’d do anything to be his wife. was there a chance he wanted you too?

jean got up from his chair and pushed it in behind him. “you don’t have to apologize. you aren’t in trouble. the boy was just fine all night. it was unfair of me to ask you to stay so late.” he admitted, leaning against the counter next to you. “truth is, the real reason you were here is a little…selfish.”

your heart was beating so fast. your ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. and god, your eyes could not stop looking at him. his kind, hazel eyes. his messy brown-blond hair. and his scruff. and his pink, perfect lips. “why was i here?” the words somehow find a way out while you hope you know the answer.

“because i wanted you here.” he moved closer to you. your stomach was in knots, twisting and turning. jean reached a hand up to hold the side of your face. your cheek where his hand rested was burning. you weren’t sure if it was you or him that was so warm. you can’t find anything to say. there’s nothing moving around in your brain except for him. “(y/n,)” he started, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “why do you think you’re here so much?”

“to do my job.”

“no. try again.” jean whispered.

“i don’t know.” you whispered back.

“i think that you do.” jean leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. instinctively, your hand went up to grip his wrist. he was looking right into your eyes. his gaze never faltered. it was that look again. the one from all those nights ago. he pulled away. jean turned his head away and sighed. “(y/n), don’t make me say it.”

“you’re falling for me.” you whispered, your forehead and cheek still burning from his gentle touch. he turned his head back to you, eyes now filled with hope.

“are you…falling for me?” he asked but it came out as more of a plea. you nodded your head. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you were sure you were still asleep and going to wake up soon. “you’re certain?” he tilted his head.

“yes.” your voice still came out as a whisper, afraid the moment would end if you spoke any louder. this was all the confirmation jean needed to hear. it was music to his ears. he took a step closer. you’re afraid your heart might actually beat out of your chest.

jean’s face was leaning in towards yours. you closed your eyes, afraid but wanting. needing. his lips met yours. they are soft and gentle. they’re warm. you felt jean’s hands wrap around your waist as he pulled his mouth away from yours. you opened your eyes finally.

“i’m a cliche, aren’t i?” he asked. “falling for the babysitter?”

you can find my jean fic by clicking here

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sakkiichi · 1 year ago

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hello!! i saw that ur requests is open :D may i request gn! reader with blade? maybe a mixture of angst and hurt with comfort where the reader feels insecure of themselves bc they heard ppl whispering abt how the reader is not suitable to be blade’s s/o, things like that

would like to ask for a happy ending bc of my sensitive heart whehdhd

take ur time writing this! feel free to delete it if u dont have the motivation/ideas <3 have a nice day 🫶🫶

DON’T LET ME LET THE DARK TAKE OVER.

Hey, nonnie ! thank you for requesting, you’re actually my first request on here <3 I hope you like it and that this is what you wanted ! I’m sorry it took a while, I hope you still enjoy, dear.

Blade x gn! reader.

genre/cw: angst to comfort and fluff, mentions of insecurity.

word count: 800 words.

You’re starting to believe they are right.

The rumors, the side glances, the occasional snickers.

Maybe it wouldn’t bother you so much if the reason was another, but your heart was always on your sleeve when it came to him.

His swordsmanship skills were certainly the talk of town, and you knew well you can’t be liked by everyone, so the prospect of rumors arising when you and him got close was not far fetched.

And yet, your heart sinks every time wicked whispers make it to your ears.

You aren’t sure if you’ve started going crazy.

On the street, at the grocery store, at work… you can feel eyes boring into you whenever you go outside.

So you reach the conclusion it’s safer to stay home.

At least that way you don’t need to hear rumors added to the insecurities already spiraling in dark swirls inside your mind.

Your bed is more comfortable, anyway, yes, you’ll just call in sick tomorrow at work, it’s not like anyone will care.

Turning around in bed, you tuck the covers closer around you. You wish your lover was by your side right now.

‘And you think you deserve him?’ A cruel voice whispers at the back of your mind.

Your lids flutter closed; if you stay really still, maybe, just maybe, the whole world will forget about you.

“[Y/n], I’m home.”

Damn, maybe not everyone will forget about you.

Still, you don’t get out from your cocoon when you hear his footsteps; nor do you run to hug him as you used to, even when his soft yet slightly raspy voice reaches you, more desperate by the minute.

Then, light in rusty hues floods into the bedroom, relief palpable in your partner’s tone when he sighs:

“Good. You’re here.”

However, the stellaron hunter’s happiness is short lived.

You look… dimmed.

To Blade, you were the ever-light that rose in the zenith of his black hole infinities. Right now, however, all he can see when his eyes of bleeding rubies catch sight of you is colorless fog, dull gray over the rainbow speckled meadows you usually smiled in. A broken solstice of decaying ashen flowers.

“[Y/n]! [Y/n]!” Your boyfriend steps closer to your unreactive body. “Hey, I’m here, it’s going to be okay.” He carefully pulls the covers away from you.

Fallen moonbeams stain your cheeks, salty with bitterness and hurt.

“Ren…” You mutter, still not facing him. Your body trembles, you look so frail right now. “Why are you here?” You choke out, voice low, the broken crackling of lightning in the distance.

“I’ll always be here.” Blade tells you, softly, running a hand through your hair, turning you around to face him.

“But why?” You put your palms against his chest, over the steady heartbeat that used to lull you to sleep. “You could do so much better, Ren. Why stay?” Your teary eyes still won’t look at him.

“No.” Your lover states, sharp, the edge of metal cutting through heavy star-obscuring clouds. “It doesn’t get better than you, angel.” He says, chapped lips tender against your hair.

“But it does, Blade…” Your voice breaks, parted clouds weeping for you. “I hear them, everyone agrees that I’m not good enough for you!”

“Who is spouting such nonsense?” Your stellaron hunter asks, his tone taking on a dangerous lilt.

“Everyone! When I go shopping, the neighbors, even sometimes when I leave work… I-I’ve even gotten some passive-aggressive comments on whether we’re still together or not…”

His hold on you tightens, strong arms hugging you closer to him.

The fact that someone else has made you feel like this makes Blade’s blood boil. If it wasn’t because you would certainly try to stop him, he’d be ready to torn to pieces anyone who ever made you think you’re less than enough.

The stellaron hunter’s strength was never in his speech, so, as liquid moonlight trickles down your cheeks, he keeps you from breaking.

His once ensnaring grip was always devoid of thorns when it came to you, only deep crimson blooms flourishing in his wake.

“They’re wrong.” Are the venom laced seeds fallen from the vermillion petals that surround you. “You’re perfect for me, no matter what. You’re perfect, I won’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.” Each statement is punctuated by his arms squeezing you softly, so delicate in contrast to his icy tone, like the first fall of snow dusting over a rose garden.

And maybe it’s because you’re too tired, or perhaps because Blade’s caress is akin to watching the stars rise in a poppy field, but you don’t try to retort.

The moon is high when your lids flutter closed, your lover’s heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

In your dreams, you and him imprint angels in the snow.

In the real world, Blade kisses your temple, his arms secure around you.

The new dawn looks bright in the distance.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #blade x reader #blade x y/n #blade x you #hsr blade x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail oneshots #honkai star rail scenarios #blade imagines #hsr blade #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

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purinfelix · 1 year ago

Text

f1 drivers as meet-cutes ₊˚⊹⋆ pt. 2

summary: a continuation of pt. 1, some small blurbs about meeting drivers in equally awkward and romantic situations! featuring: OP81, LN44 and GR63 warnings: none!

a/n: didn't really plan on making a pt2 this soon but the Oscar one came to me in a vision and i just had to (also yes George's one is basically the scene from notting hill and Lando's isn't technically a meet cute but shh) ... but hope u enjoy!!

ᝰ.ᐟ Oscar Piastri - forced proximity

Planning to catch a train home during peak hour on a Wednesday evening had not been one of your best ideas. And this thought only echoed as you rushed down the station steps, shoving past many blazer and winter coat clad bodies to make it to your train on time. Luckily, and partially thanks to the boost your adrenaline had given you, you managed to squeeze through the doors just as they were closing. The relieved sigh you were on the verge of letting out was interrupted though, replaced by a much more imminent feeling of claustrophobia as you notice how packed the train really is.

As if this isn’t enough, the train makes a sudden stop, flinging your unsteady figure onto the body of the person beside you. Embarrassed by the sudden closeness, but also too busy trying to recompose yourself and your bag, you gaze upwards to be met with the composed, but not emotionless, eyes of a beautiful stranger. They’re so brown and inviting, even set within his seemingly cool expression that you can’t help but feel entranced by them. You’re brought out of this trance though, as you notice him mouthing to you - “Are you okay?” - to which you can only nod in a jerky, flustered way. A string of hushed apologies spills out of your mouth until you notice his hand hovering closely around your waist, which you tell yourself he’s just doing to keep you upright, but this does little to calm your nerves.

You feel yourself sweating bullets as an endless amount of lumps form in your throat, making it hard to speak and alleviate what is already one of the most awkward situations you’ve been in in a while. But, you’re still so deeply lost in this stranger’s eyes and the way he keeps glancing over at you to make sure you’re alright and even silently leaning himself so as to offer his own body as support that you can’t stop yourself from blurting out a “What’s your name?”. To this, he responds with “Oscar”, his tone so warming in the midst of the cold train carriage that you find yourself stuttering out more words as excuses to keep the conversation, and his attention, going. Peak-hour train rides were never a good idea, but maybe this one wasn’t so bad.

ᝰ.ᐟ Lando Norris - roommates

All you wished for in your first year of university was to have a normal roommate and to get on with your studies. But when you arrived to your ‘move-in’ day to be greeted with empty boxes as far as your eye could physically see and no room mate waiting to greet you, you knew your wishes would not be fulfilled.

And this only grew more apparent over the beginning months you spent in your dorm. The boxes cleared up over the first couple of days, but only to be replaced with their contents - clothes, shoes, beaten-up golf balls - strewn across floors. Your roommate’s name became less of an identifier and more of an accomplice to your never-ending complaints about him, to the point where your friends were well acquainted with the man despite never having met him.

“Lando left ten half-full glasses of milk on the countertop for me when I woke up for morning class this morning.”

“I’m so sick of Lando making so much noise when he comes home after parties, he wakes me up every time.”

"Would it kill Lando to take his dirty clothes to the laundry and actually wash them instead of waiting until they amass at the foot of his bed?"

But all you could do was handle it in silence as best you could - picking up his mess, cleaning his milk glasses and making sure he was in bed after a late night out. Yet through it all, you found yourself strangely endeared by the roommate you so often complained about, after a while of living around each other and becoming attuned to one another’s routines and habits. Because for every stray sock left hanging over a couch, there was a warm bagel from the cafe he visited after his morning runs waiting for you on the counter. For every night he woke you up with his drunken stumbling there would be another when you kept him up with trivial discussions like which Spice Girl each of your professors would be. For every “It’s only been a month but I swear to god Lando is driving me nuts,” there was a "It’s only been a month, but I’m really starting to like Lando.”

ᝰ.ᐟ George Russell - a coffee accident

You’re late. Terribly, awfully, insanely late to a meeting you had had written in your schedule for over two weeks now. But somehow, through a series of poorly-timed coincidences including a family of ducks crossing the road your bus was going through and a hold up at the coffee shop because of a misplaced latte, you find yourself walking as fast as you can towards your office. You’re so caught up in getting to where you need to go in the least amount of time that you’re almost not thinking about any of the people you’re careening past, or the fact that you left the coffee shop in such a rush that you forgot to get a lid for your cup.

That is, until you smash headfirst into the chest of someone as you turn the final corner to your office and you feel your precious caffeine surge up into the air before splashing down onto the white, ironed and seemingly very expensive shirt of some poor stranger. A complimentary “Shit!” comes spilling out of your mouth alongside it, your empty cup falling defeated to the ground beside you. Looking up you lock onto the stranger’s deep blue eyes, which look less mad and more confused at the situation at hand. Still, even with a splatter of dark brown on his shirt, you’re taken aback by how oddly handsome he is, although this seems to add another layer to your insanely bad luck this morning. You’re about to start listing off as many sincere ways to say ‘sorry’ as you can muster until a glance at your watch reminds you of the meeting you’re supposed to be almost halfway through by now.

So instead, you pull out one of the coffee shop napkins you had shoved into your pocket as well as a pen. Hastily, you scratch your phone number alongside an ‘IOU’, pocketing both and slamming the napkin onto the now damp and stained shirt of the stranger who only looks at you with a, now partially amused, expression. “Just give me a call-” you say, trying to think of a respectful way to address him before he comes to the rescue. “George,” he replies, still oddly calm. “George,” you say, as if to yourself, before patting him on the shoulder and restarting your sprint towards your office. Soon, you finally found yourself at the front doors of your office, but strangely enough just before opening them you thought about how exactly you would repay the handsome stranger - since offering to buy him a coffee now seemed ironic and a bit inconsiderate, maybe he would prefer tea.

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sh4wty18 · 6 months ago

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heyyyyy i was wondering if you could make a johnnie angst fic where he forgets your bday🫶🏼

you forgot my birthday.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: same as request with some bestie!jake moments

cw: angst, hurt no comfort, language

word count: 1.2k + edited

---

12:00 am. A text from Jake immediately lights up your screen:

jakey: HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!!! i hope you have the best day ever! im so glad ur dating my bsf so WE could become bsfs!! ilysm go slay queen 💅

You smile and type out a response:

y/n: THANK U SO MUCH JAKE I <3 U!!!!!

You put your phone on do not disturb for the night and roll over in bed, Johnnie hadn’t texted you for your birthday yet, but that was to be expected. He was a slow texter as it is, but he was usually busy streaming or playing music at this time anyway. There was still plenty of time for him to reach out.

10:36 am. You wake up and immediately check your texts. You’d received birthday messages from Carrington, Tara, your friends from home, been tagged in hundreds of posts on tiktok and instagram, even Matt texted you (and you’d only met him once!). But nothing from Johnnie. That’s okay. He was probably still asleep. Nothing to be worried about.

1:48 pm. Nothing. What the fuck? All you wanted for your birthday was to spend a quiet day with your boyfriend. Unlike the other friends you’d made since moving to LA, you were less likely to choose partying over spending quality time with your loved ones. Not that there was anything wrong with partying, you just happened to be more reserved. Johnnie was more quiet and anxious as well, it was something that drew you to him in the first place. You always had someone to ditch social events with. You’d figured by this point he would have texted or called and wished you a happy birthday, then you’d hang out, watch a couple movies, order food in, birthday sex– the whole nine. But no. He'd said not a single word. You tried not to bring up your birthday often in the weeks leading up to it, so as to not annoy anyone, but you know for sure you’d mentioned your birth date at least twice since you’d been dating. He had zero excuse not to know. All the other important people in your life seemed to remember, so where was he?

5:24 pm. Nothing.

7:58 pm. Nothing. You decide to call Jake and see if he has any insight into the situation. He picks up on the second ring.

“What’s up, birthday girl?” He asks sweetly.

“Johnnie still hasn’t told me happy birthday. I think he forgot,” you say. Speaking the words out loud suddenly makes the situation feel way more real, and you feel a familiar lump forming in your throat.

“There’s no way. He couldn’t have. He’s been out all day, I haven’t really seen him. I think he’s doing a shoot for his next music video or something. So maybe he’ll text you when he’s done? I’m sorry, y/n, I wish I could help. If you need to be with someone, you know I’m always here.”

“Thanks, Jake, you’re a great friend. Love you.”

“Love you too, I’ll text you when he gets back.”

“Thanks. And Jake… don’t remind him when he gets back. It won’t be real unless he does it himself.”

10:15 pm. Nothing.

12:00 am. You type out a text to Johnnie:

y/n: you forgot my birthday

johnnie <3: It’s literally next month isn’t it?

johnnie <3: Y/n…plz tell me its next month

y/n: i think i know my own birthday

johnnie <3: No no no no no

johnnie <3: Y/n im so sorry

johnnie <3: I know how u wanted to spend all day together on your birthday. I'm such an idiot. I promise it was an honest mistake. I really thought it was next month.

You don’t answer. At 12:43 am, you hear a knock at your door. He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you knew he wouldn’t leave until you answered, so you reluctantly opened the door.

“Johnnie, I don’t want to see you–”

“Y/n, please. Please listen to me. I’m so so so sorry. I was busy with music video stuff and I spaced. I wasn’t on my phone all day so I swear, I didn’t see anyone’s birthday posts or anything until after you texted. You can ask Jake and Carrington, they were texting me all day and I never answered.”

“I believe you, Johnnie. And I get being busy, but… it’s just like… how do you forget your own girlfriend’s birthday? Do you know how embarrassing it is? To have all my friends, fans, and even acquaintances wish me a happy birthday, but the one person I really want to hear from doesn’t? It sucks. I felt like shit all day.”

“I know. And being busy isn’t an excuse. There isn’t an excuse. I don’t know what else to say other than I’m so fucking sorry. If I could take it all back I would. I love you so much, y/n. I- I’m so fucking sorry,” Johnnie pleads, and his eyes start to well.

You start to tear up as well, but you don’t want him to see you cry, don’t want to make him feel worse. You’re not angry with him, and you obviously still love him, you’re just sad. You can tell he means what he’s saying, it was definitely an honest mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re hurt, and embarrassed, and had the worst birthday ever.

“I know you are. And I love you, too. I just… I think I need some space for tonight. I’m sorry, Johnnie,” you say.

“Don’t apologize, baby. I’ll call you in the morning. I love you.” He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and turns to leave.

You close the door behind him and sink to the floor. You pull your knees to your chest and bury your face in them, finally letting out your soft sobs after holding back tears all day. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and tap the call button under Jake’s name.

“What’s wrong?” He asks immediately, knowing you’d never call this late unless there was an emergency.

“I need you,” you say, choking on your words between tears.

“I’m coming over.” He hangs up.

—

Fifteen minutes later, he’s at your apartment. You’re sitting on the couch together, with you leaning your head against his shoulder and crying softly as he rubs your back.

“I saw Johnnie on my way out… he didn’t look so hot. I’m assuming this is about him?”

You sniffle, “He forgot. I can’t believe he really forgot. Sorry I'm crying, this is so stupid, I’m just… really fucking sad about it. I know he didn’t mean to, and he’s super sorry and stuff but–”

“Y/n, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Your emotions are completely valid. He’s your boyfriend, of course you’re gonna be upset that he forgot your birthday! It doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, we still love Johnnie! But… he made a mistake and unfortunately it made you sad.”

“I knew you’d understand,” you give him a weak smile, and he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into a tight side hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“Of course. I’m here for you, y/n. Always.”

---

first hurt/no comfort fic in the books! (i'm sad)

#sh4wty18 #original fiction #original one shot #one shot #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #angst #hurt no comfort #angst with a sad ending #angst with no comfort #original fanfiction #fanfiction writer #angst one shot #johnnie guilbert oneshot

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wambsgansshoelaces · 10 months ago

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okay so last night i had this horrible bad bad bad no good panic/anxiety attack and like . i went through IT . was really bad , shaking so hard my teeth clattered , barely breathing , etc . so maybe could I get succession characters helping a so who has a panic/anxiety attack and grounding them? tysm 💐

~ 🦈

I’m really sorry that happened to you anon :( I hope you’re feeling much much better now!!! If you ever need to talk, you got me <3 I love u thank u for requesting, enjoy xx

panic attack (succession main cast)

Kendall

ᝰ he’s obviously had his fair share of panic attacks

ᝰ while he’s not really sure what’ll work for you specifically, he does his best to do things he wishes people did for him when he’d have attacks

ᝰ he has a few tricks up his sleeve, anyway

ᝰ when he first realizes you’re having one, he gets an ice cube

ᝰ and tells you to put it in your mouth and just leave it there

ᝰ “it helps your brain distract itself from its own meltdown,” he tells you softly

ᝰ all the while stroking your hair, your cheeks, your brow, whatever he can tell soothes you the most

ᝰ you suck on the ice cube until it melts

ᝰ and surprisingly enough, you’ve calmed down

ᝰ yes you’re still extremely anxious, but your breathing’s been regulated, your heart rate back to normal

ᝰ kendall coaxes you into a cuddle on the couch

ᝰhis fingers run through your hair over and over

ᝰ he’s just trying to bring you down from that bad high

ᝰ and he’s doing well

ᝰ he murmurs soft words to you

ᝰ and tries to get to the root of the issue

ᝰ “what caused all this, do you know?”

ᝰ you don’t have an answer

ᝰ but that’s okay

ᝰ he’ll take care of you regardless

ᝰ because you mean the world to him

ᝰ and if he can do anything to make you happy, he’ll do it

ᝰ you make him the happiest man to walk the earth

Roman

ᝰ is also a panic attack veteran

ᝰ kind of freezes the first time you have one in front of him

ᝰ but he snaps out of it immediately

ᝰ makes you lay down in bed while he runs to the bathroom

ᝰ he comes back with a cool washcloth and slaps it onto your face

ᝰ “roman!”

ᝰ “sorry, i didn’t think it’d go so hard!”

ᝰ you laugh

ᝰ but like you’re still having a panic attack

ᝰ he’s sat next to you, and rubs gentle circles into your cheeks and forehead with the washcloth

ᝰ the cool water helps soothe you as it seeps into your skin

ᝰ you calm down

ᝰ you’ve exhausted yourself

ᝰ once roman’s sure you’re not stressing the fuck out, he takes the washcloth and sets it on his side table

ᝰ he lays down with you and pulls you close to him

ᝰ “i’m tired, and i won’t be able to sleep unless you take a nap with me,” he states

ᝰ he sets your head on his chest

ᝰ and peppers kisses over your scalp

ᝰ he’s not even a little bit tired

ᝰ he just wants you to sleep and reset

ᝰ cheek smushed into his pec, you doze off

ᝰ he’s so happy, just having you here with him

ᝰ you’re safe when you’re with him

ᝰ and he’s safe when he’s with you

ᝰ he’s so warm and cuddly with you

ᝰ and you love it

Shiv

ᝰ if she’s ever had a panic attack, she’s never let you see it

ᝰ or anyone

ᝰ but when you have one in front of her, she can’t just let it happen

ᝰ she takes your face in her hands and makes you breathe

ᝰ “you’re going to do it just like me, okay?” she asks softly, eyes searching yours

ᝰ helps you box breathe

ᝰ “four cycles, babe, come on,” she encourages

ᝰ in four, hold four, out four, hold four

ᝰ “that’s it. you’re doing so well,” she coos

ᝰ within minutes she has you back to normal

ᝰ you don’t say anything, just hug her tight with your chin set on her shoulder

ᝰ “wanna talk about it?” she asks

ᝰ she’s there whether you do or you don’t

ᝰ if you do, she sits, she listens, and she does her absolute best to help

ᝰ and even if she can’t solve the issue itself, she’ll do everything in her power to make you feel better

ᝰ she goes out a bit later, not telling you where she’s going

ᝰ she returns with a banana split from dairy queen

ᝰ you share it, you perched on the kitchen counter, her standing in front of you

ᝰ your legs tangle together as you eat

ᝰ you end up getting a bit of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

ᝰ“you’re so messy,” she says lightheartedly

ᝰ“what? look who’s talking,” you say back, wiping ice cream from her chin

ᝰ“i don’t know how that got there,” she mutters

ᝰ she lets you have the cherry

ᝰ she knows you love it

ᝰ but she loves it too

ᝰ so she kisses you, savoring the taste of the cherry

ᝰ but mostly just the taste of you

Tom

ᝰ well read wambsgans strikes again

ᝰ he realizes you have a panic attack oncoming and sits you down in a chair

ᝰ he keeps a hand on your shoulder and quietly talks you through it

ᝰ when your breathing begins to get erratic, he begins asking you questions so that you ground yourself

ᝰ “can you name three objects you can see in the kitchen?”

ᝰ “i, ah, the blender, the, um, coffee machine, and that stupid looking mug of yours,” you manage, referring to his ‘world’s best grandma’ mug he’d gotten in a white elephant thing at work

ᝰ “there you are. how about three things you smell?”

ᝰ he’s smiling softly at you, hand now pushing back hair from your face

ᝰ you inhale deeply, grounding yourself

ᝰ just as he’d intended

ᝰ “your cologne… i still kind of smell dinner? and…”

ᝰ at a loss, you lean forward and sniff

ᝰ “…laundry detergent,” you say after giving his shirt a sniff

ᝰ “you’re a cheater,” he says, despite his smile

ᝰ “oh, well,” you reply, smiling up at him

ᝰ he kisses your forehead

ᝰ “want to move to bed?” he asks

ᝰ “please.”

ᝰ before you know it, the two of you are curled together, the blankets and duvets bringing you comfort

ᝰ he brings you comfort

ᝰ he’s scratching gently at the nape of your neck, your head pressed into the crook of his

ᝰ you press lazy kisses to the skin under your mouth

ᝰ you fall asleep, a tangle of limbs, the sheets warm with affection

Greg

ᝰ lowkey is also having a panic attack

ᝰ but not really

ᝰ he pulls himself together for you

ᝰ he’s not really sure what to do

ᝰ so he googles it

ᝰ “hey, hey. close your eyes, and, uh, i’ll count to five, and you’ll breathe in through your nose, okay?”

ᝰ not really sure what this’ll do for you, but trusting him, you oblige him

ᝰ “exhale through your mouth, now.”

ᝰ after a few cycles, you’re feeling a bit better

ᝰ you’re still anxious, but it’s not suffocating you anymore

ᝰ “go sit, i’ll get ice cream,” he tells you

ᝰ when he comes back to sit next to you on the couch, he has a pint of your favorite ice cream in his hands and two spoons

ᝰ his arm goes around you and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze

ᝰ the two of you end up finishing the pint

ᝰ he talks about everything to take your mind off of whatever it was that was stressing you out

ᝰ eventually, your brow isn’t furrowed, your features aren’t tense

ᝰ he kisses your cheeks

ᝰ “are you feeling good? better, at least?”

ᝰ you are

ᝰ you’re finally at peace again

ᝰ you spend the rest of the night watching a favorite show of greg’s

ᝰ you love sitting there listening to him talk about why he enjoys it so much

ᝰ he tells you that he’ll enjoy it better when you watch it with him

ᝰ because the first time around, all he could think of was you and whether you would like it

ᝰ you’re all that’s on his mind

ᝰ ever

Stewy

ᝰ this man is a masterclass in calm

ᝰ “hey, baby, take a breath,” he tells you, one hand brace on your stomach, the other on the small of your back

ᝰ when you clearly do not take a good breath, he changes tactics

ᝰ the hand on your stomach moves to take your own hand

ᝰ the one on your back begins rubbing in circles

ᝰ “i really want to go on a walk,” he tells you, “and i really, really, want you to come with me.”

ᝰ you know he’s lying

ᝰ but you go with him anyway

ᝰ the fresh air helps you

ᝰ and just moving around helps clear your head

ᝰ eventually, you’ve calmed down a bit

ᝰ your breath is still stuttering and tears are welling in your eyes

ᝰ stewy still has your fingers intertwined with his

ᝰ his eyes never leave your face

ᝰ he reaches over and thumbs away your tears

ᝰ “you know, i think we’re on time to watch the sun set,” he tells you, eyes twinkling

ᝰ you end up at a nearby park

ᝰ he pulls you onto a bench overlooking empty meadows

ᝰ his arm loops around you and he lets you lean against him

ᝰ your arms wind around his wast, your fingers fiddling with his belt loop

ᝰ he dots kisses all over your head as the sky melts into pinks and oranges

ᝰ “so gorgeous,” you whisper, the colors blending and swirling together before your eyes

ᝰ “not as much as you,” he murmurs back

ᝰ “cheese ball,” you say happily

ᝰ “you know you love me.”

ᝰ “i do. very much.”

#succession headcanons #kendall Roy #kendall roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #siobhan roy #siobhan roy x reader #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #gregory hirsch #gregory hirsch x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #succession #succession hbo #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #anon ask

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duckymcdoorknob · 1 year ago

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Hi ducky can I please have an emergency request? can u write a story for a y/n who keeps her emotions in bc every time she tries to tell someone someone else complains about something.

and I think u started watching black clover so can u write it with luck and magna ? either together or separate is okey.

thank u 💔

Yes you sure can.

Bumping this one up bc I’m really feeling this hardcore rn

I may make this kinda self-indulgent with the issues y/n is facing???

My dms are open if you wanna vent! I’m here for you, anon. 💜💜💜💜

CW BELOW THE CUT: none.

Luck Voltia and Magna Swing

Things weren’t going too well for you, there’s no way to hide that fact.

From whatever it was, your day was poisoned by unhappiness, and you didn’t know what to do to aid it.

Of course, you refused to let any of the other bulls in on how you were feeling. It was especially difficult to keep Asta from pestering you; the kid is very attentive.

“Show. Never tell.” Is what you would tell yourself, forcing the feelings back into a tiny box.

You tried so hard to keep your face up as you walked through the base, but most days it was impossible to get anything besides a hopeless frown.

When asked how you were, you shrugged it off, merely explaining that you just have a “resting sad face”

Many believed you, nodding with an “ohh” while walking away.

But Magna we’re not buying into any of your nonsense. The two would exchange worried glances at your excuses.

When the team slowly gathered together in the living room after dinner, you were not doing great whatsoever. Your mood was sour, and you were barely focused on anything.

“Hey, everything alright?” Asta asked as he sat next to you. “You didn’t eat at dinner, and usually you have a great appetite.”

You sighed with a broken smile, “To be honest I’m-“

“Oh my god, Asta, did you see what Yami had me doing today? I didn’t get a break once! I’m so tired of being his wheels all the time,” Finral whined as he plopped down next to the anti-magic user.

To your dismay, everyone gathered around their senior to listen to his tale of woe, leaving you behind and ignored again.

You stand up and retreat to your bedroom, leaving without a single word.

You didn’t have much time alone before there was a gentle knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? Can we come in?” It was Luck’s voice…?

You didn’t reply, instead burying your head into your pillow. You heard their bickering through the door.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way-“

“Magna no! They didn’t give us permission to come in-“

“And what if something happened to them?? Would you rather us stand out here and do nothing when-“

“You need to respect their wishes!”

“You can come in,” you say stoically, not moving from your previous position.

The door opens slowly, revealing the two bulls.

“Hey, careful doing that,” Magna quickly made his way over to your bed, turning your head toward them. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t leave room for air.”

“Whatever…” you murmur, eyes glazed over.

“(N/N),” Luck begins, “Are you okay?”

You sit upright to greet them “Yeah I’m-“

“No, like actually okay,” he interrupts, moving to sit next to you.

There’s a solemn silence…

“Hey, (N/N), tell us what’s going on, kid,” Magna hums as he brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, sitting on your other side.

They wait with baited breath for your reply, worry evident in their eyes.

“I’m not okay… and I don’t know what to do,” you finally confess in a sotto-voce tone.

Both put a supportive hand on your back or shoulder, listening carefully.

“Everything is falling apart… and I-I’m not sure what to do. I’m usually g-good at fixing things but…” you laugh a bit in pitifulness, “I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself; that’s why we’re here,” the mowhawked mage mutters, squeezing your shoulder gingerly.

“But what if I can’t be fixed? What if I have to live like this every day?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Luck’s sweet voice chimes. “Time won’t stop whenever you feel sad, it will keep moving and you’ll be forced to feel better.”

“It feels so hopeless… nobody cares…” you whisper

“That’s not-“ he attempts.

“It is true. The moment Fin complained, everyone turned to listen to him instead. I don’t feel heard or respected… I don’t-“ tears start to fill your eyes “I feel so alone.”

“Hey,” Magna’s low voice sounds, “You are far from alone…” he wipes a falling tear with his thumb. “You have people who love you and are willing to support you every step of the way.”

“Yeah!” A quiet cheer of approval left the lightning mage. “You know how much we love you, and we would do anything for you to feel like yourself again.”

The flame mage gets in front of you, locking your eyes. “Tell us anything that’s on your mind… what’s making you feel like less than you are? Anything is fair game, don’t be afraid.”

You look around at their concerned faces once more, and suddenly everything falls apart. Your shoulders heave up and down as your body is wracked with the sobs you’ve been keeping hidden.

As you wail loudly, the two instantly move in to hug you. Magna cradles your head against his chest while Luck hugs around your torso and lays his head on your lap.

The two wordlessly cling onto you as you spill your tale of woe. Many—having heard your pained cries— attempt to check in multiple times. Magna shooed them instantly, shooting a death glare to anyone who tried to enter.

When you finally finished, you slumped downward, resting in their loving embrace. “Thank you…”

“Anytime, kid… anytime.” Magna whispered as he pats your shoulder.

When no response was given from the Cherry berserker, the two of you look down to notice that he had fallen asleep on your lap.

And for the first time that day, you started laughing.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#black clover #black clover emergency requests #ducky’s emergency requests #emergency request #black clover x reader #Magna #Magna swing #Magna x reader #Magna swing x reader #luck #luck voltia #luck voltia x reader #black clover imagine #anime #anime x reader #anime imagines #anime fanfiction #anime fic

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muldermuse · 1 year ago

Text

Plus One (Fox Mulder X Reader)

This is based on an ask I recieved <333 thank u for sending it through

Scully is unable to attend an event so Fox asks you to be his plus one.

“It means a lot that you’re coming tonight, I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up at your apartment at 6? Have a chat about the mission in the car and then go from there…I’m looking forward to seeing you…Scully said your dress looks good and you know that she knows more about that stuff than me *laughs*. Um, okay well this is a long voicemail so uh-right, I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh! This is Fox by the way.”

It definitely was not your usual practice to have a glass of red wine before getting ready for a mission but you had to admit that you felt nervous about tonight. It was standard for Mulder and Scully to do something like this. To get intel about a case, they’d dress up and rub shoulders with people unknowingly involved in an X File. Sometimes they’d pose as a couple and other times they would pose as two singles trying to seek out a partner for the evening. They would collect as much intel as possible and within the following weeks; the case would undoubtedly be solved.

This was a huge case so Scully was in another state, sleeping in her car to avoid the bed bug-ridden motel that Skinner had put her up in. Fox was too nervous to ask you so you got a call from Scully late last night. The key contact Fox had been trying to speak to about this case was attending a Gala in Washington. The contact was old school, any guest to the Gala had to have a date for the evening, and of course; it was a black tie event. You were reluctant and Scully knew you would be. “Listen, if you want to fly out and take my place in this crappy rental car, which stinks of fries for some reason- I would thank you for it. But, you’ll have a great time and I know you have that black dress that you’re looking for an excuse to wear…”.

So here you are, pouring a large glass of red wine and listening to the Spice Girls as you try to focus all your nervous energy into applying your make up and curling your hair. You slip your dress on at quarter to 5. The dress was expensive and it looks it. It’s black and shimmering under the fairy lights strung over your bookshelf. It’s hugging your curves, it’s hiding any insecurities and you have to admit- you look amazing. The remaining wine in the glass slides down your throat and gives a final rush of adrenaline. Fox knocks at the door at exactly 6 o’clock.

***

He's wearing his glasses. That’s the first thing that you recognize. Not the bouquet of flowers tightly clutched in his fist, not the perfectly tailored suit or the nervous expression covering his face.

“You’re wearing glasses, I’ve never seen you wear them outside of the office.” You smile at him and he smiles back but he seems distracted. He doesn’t reply for a few seconds and as the awkward energy fills the air; he thrusts the flowers towards your hands.

“Yeah, I think they make me look smarter” He awkwardly laughs. “These are for you...obviously…you usually have peonies at your desk on special occasions so I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re beautiful, I didn’t realise that you noticed stuff like that. Maybe you’re a better agent than I suspected Fox” you wink as you go back into your apartment and place the flowers in the sink with some water. You take the moment with the faucet running to compose yourself.

God.

He looks so fucking good.

The nerves that have slowly dissipated over the past hour are suddenly back without warning. He looks so good- do you look alright? Oh god, are you not dressed up enough? Does he think you look okay? I bet he wishes that Scully was here right now, you could potentially jeopardise this entire case and you know how hard they’re both working on it.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts to hear Fox cross the room and place a warm hand against your lower back. The tension zapping through your body streams out with a deep exhale.

“I have a car waiting downstairs, we should probably go”. He holds his arm out for you with a grin and he guides you downstairs. He holds the car door open for you. Whilst you have a moment alone; you whisper to yourself an affirmation that tonight will go well.

You have no idea that Fox is doing the same thing.

***

Fox has liked you for a while and he suspects that this occasion is all Scully’s doing. There was no real reason for her to travel to Wyoming, it was some anonymous call which Fox completely doubts the validity of. When it comes to the X Files and his career, Fox is a ‘do-er.’ He wants to get out there, prove the importance of his work and save lives.

However, when it comes to his relationships. At the minute, Fox is less active.

The moment he saw you smiling; you had never been far from his thoughts. Scully struck up a friendship with you through a mutual love of the same sandwich served a local deli. Fox would sit in on your lunch dates together, he’d always try and make you laugh- feeling an immense sense of pride when he did.

Scully had disclosed to him her feelings on your boyfriend, Jason. You had so much love to give and he seemed to be the opposite. Closed off and cold. Scully told Fox you’d been arguing more and were getting close to breaking up. When you did, Fox watched from afar as your usual bright smile never reached your eyes.

***

The car ride is filled with idle chat. The tension in the air seems to mount as you both try desperately to ignore it. Fox tells you about the Gala and what to expect. It’s more of an occasion to scope out the group rather than to gather intel on a specific target.

You don’t realise that as the car drives closer to your destination that your knee begins to bounce and your fingers fidget with the tassle on your handbag. Fox rests his hand on your knee and his thumb rubs calming small circles on your soft skin.

“You look amazing, thanks again for doing this.”

Before you can thank him or compliment him back, the car pulls to a stop and the door opens.

***

The room is grand and glamourous. It’s a decadent affair with rich red velvet curtains and carpets decorating each room. The different perfumes and aftershaves blend together to create a sweet floral scent that lingers as every person passes. It’s a crowd of black tuxedos and billowing ballgowns, everyone smiling politely with a clear hint of judgement to every passerby. The sound of the band is lost over the exchanging of pleasantries and the distinctive pop of champagne corks, followed by a polite cheer.

It's completely unlike anywhere else you have ever been or anywhere you are likely to ever go.

“I think I’m the poorest person in here by about three million dollars, Fox”

“Oh no, it’ll be way more than that,” Fox says with a wink as he hands you a glass of champagne. He moves in close enough to whisper to you and you try to ignore the sensation of his breath fanning your neck.

“See that guy over there with the red suit, he has a huge interest in extraterrestrials. It’s massive so much so that he spends around five and a half million dollars a year trying to prove they’re real. He’s got that much money it’s basically a game.”

The bubbles of champagne trickle down your throat as you move closer into Fox’s hold. He holds your waist and rotates you to look at another corner of the room. His breath remains hot on your neck and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or his presence that is making your head feel fuzzy.

“That lady over there with the huge hat, like, ridiculously big hat.” You nod at Fox without taking your eyes off her. “The Lone Gunman guys suspect that she gets all her money from selling UFOs that crash, on the black market. She only leaves her guarded house three times a year and this is one of the occasions.”

“Suspect? So it could be something completely different.” You smirk up at Fox, he grabs another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to you. “Who knows, maybe she makes her money selling really big hats.”

“Or maybe, the reason her hat is so big is because it’s broadcasting a message to a UFO flying over Washington”. His grin matches yours.

You clink the glasses together and without the other knowing, both of you acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs.

***

Neither of you speak to anyone else, you find a quiet corner tucked away in the hall room and chat. You sip on a glass of wine and Fox holds a tumbler of whiskey but both drinks go warm as you get lose in the conversation with each other.

It dawns on you that before tonight, you’ve never really spoken to Fox as it’s usually a group environment or a passing hi-goodbye as you both make your way home at the end of the day.

He tells you about his family, he tells you about his favourite cases and more importantly than all of the things he’s saying to you- he’s present with you the entire time. Conversations with your ex were one sided and that was something that took months to admit. You realized your relationship with Jason was over during a conversation. You’d just got the promotion that you’d spent months working on and he asked one simple question that felt like a knife to your pumping heart.

“When were you going to tell me about that promotion?”

You had told him; of course you had. You’d told him when you first heard about it, you’d told him the planning you’d spent weeks organizing and you told him the morning of the interview.

He hadn’t heard any of it.

You’d been together over a year. You had met each other’s family, met each other’s friends, you’d fallen in love and within that conversation; you realized how far from love you both had fallen.

The big band music was gradually playing louder and louder. You’d both been straining to shout over it to keep the conversation going. Eventually, you realized a way you would be able to hear Fox better, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

***

The music was soft, flowing through the air as the lights began to dim slowly and the illuminated table decorations filled in the dark spaces. You placed your arms around Fox’s shoulders as his large hands slid down to your waist. Your heart was beating the steadiest that it had all night.

“How did you know about the peonies? I’ve never told you or Scully about that.” Your hands remained interlocked around his neck as you fought the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Well, I know your birthday and you had peonies on that date. When you got that promotion, you had peonies, and when uh…yeah, you have peonies.” A nervous look flashes across his face. You know what he was going to say.

“When I broke up with Jason, someone in the office got me peonies and left them on my desk. It was the only thing that made me smile that week”. The memory still makes you emotional, the week was relentless sleepless nights and non-stop crying. On the last day of the week, there was a gorgeous bunch of peonies in a vase on your desk. No note, no name- nothing.

His hands tighten around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours, “I’m glad you liked them…it was hard to see you look so sad”.

Of course it was him.

It always was.

It always is.

Before you can carry on speaking or stop the tears trying to fill your eyes. He tilts your chin to meet your eyeline with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you look tonight or thanked you for this…I mean thanked you properly."

You place your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, continuing to sway to the music; you hear him take a breath before carrying on.

"I've liked you for a while and god, does that sound childish to say. This means a lot to me and you being here means even more. I'd like to take you out, I can't always promise it will be this fancy...actually, I can guarantee it never will be but I want to spend time with you. In any setting, I possibly can."

He doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. It felt like a confession he needed to make but perhaps didn't have the confidence to say it to your face. Which is amazing to you because Fox Mulder doesn't strike you as someone who struggles with anxieties.

"I think this place is a bit too fancy for me, maybe we can chat more at the 24 hour diner near my apartment? I think we'll look a bit different from the usual patrons" You gesture at your black gown and his tuxedo. He smiles as he takes your hand and leads you to the exit.

Before you get back into the car, you press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the evening. For the entire journey to the diner; you hold each other's hands tightly.

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