#ong x reader

[2knightt]

— YOU SHOWED ME LOVE .

—IN WHICH, the greasers realize they’re truly, and honestly, in love.

tags/warnings: gn!reader possible OOC, story-focused rather than comedic headcanons, fluff and nothing else(lie), comforting steve, swearing, soda’s part is rushed cuz i ran out of ideas.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ wow shocker i leave for awhile and come back with a new theme. anyways, hi angels! i love you all sm and i forgot how much i loved being here🥹..! i missed u guys so much!

—

Johnny Cade

cars zoomed by the lot at concerning speeds, the sound of wind being broken up by the obnoxious cop sirens or a drunkard yelling down the street.

though, to you and johnny, all of that fell to deaf ears. it was like the world didn’t matter to you—as long as johnny sat beside you.

the stars seemed to only shine above you two, twinkling and gleaming in ways that you’d never seen before. the moon was your sunlight, with johnny giving you the warmth.

his head rested on top of yours that was against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around your waist. your thigh was pressed against his, making him more than a little nervous.

sitting in the lot with you made him nervous, despite you and him dating for a long while now. you made him..giddy. that’s the word.

you made him feel like a child again; the child he never got to be.

johnny had his head tilted upward toward the stars and the sky, matching what you were doing so he didn’t look like a clueless idiot.

your hand left your lap, your eyes flickering downward for just a moment that went unnoticed to johnny. you gently grabbed his scarred hand, holding his hand in yours. you held him like he was glass.

johnny felt his face get hot. like, really hot. you were so gentle with him, the type of gentle that he had never been treated with.

he looked down at you, your head still on his shoulder. your hair was so shiny, you were so beautiful and such a perfect fit for him with the way your body mended with his in a time like this.

perfect.

his lips were quickly pressed against the crown of your head, pulling away before he got too nervous to talk.

“i love you, y’know.”

Dallas Winston

“you’ll be fine.”

“i feel like ‘m bleedin’ out.”

dallas complained as he sat on your couch, his legs spread so that you could properly stand between them. you continued to dab the wet cloth against his cheek to get the dried blood off.

there seemed to be just as much of dried blood as there was fresh, his arms and hands coverer in gauze and bandaids.

you gently held his chin to turn his head every which way you needed, because he allowed you to. he liked you so much, he allowed you to move him around like a doll.

though, he liked slyvia a lot, too and she couldn’t do stuff like that. stuff like this with slyvia was weird, even if he did like her.

so, why was it different with you? what made you, of all people, so special?

his eyes were locked onto yours, taking extra note to how focused you look on cleaning his face up. you were pretty. like, real pretty.

dallas was quick to avert his eyes when he realized just how sappy his internal monologue sounded.

“what?”

you asked, taking note to how hyper-aware dallas suddenly looked. his jaw was clenched slightly as he seemingly refused to look at you.

how you always knew when something was up with him, he may never know.

“nothin’. the cuts jus’ hurt,”

he lied right out of his teeth.

dallas’ eyes met yours once more, trying to act tough once again. he asked himself once more, what made you so different?

“are you sure?”

you dropped the wet cloth slightly, the rag no longer against his cheek. you looked worried, and you sounded just as nervous.

you cared.

you cared for dallas winston. that’s what made you different.

dallas knew you were different from his other flings.

he liked his other flings. he loved you. he loved that you cared for him, genuinely.

he extended his hands out, grabbing your waist to pull you closer with a firm tug, your knee supporting you up as it was pressed against the edge of the couch.

“oh, ‘m real sure, pretty.”

“dally, please.”

“please, what?”

“don’t start with me now, winston.”

Ponyboy Curtis

you were golden.

completely and utterly golden. the sunset reflected off your skin like you were an angel, your eyes shimmering like the stars above, the flush across your face making you look beyond innocent.

ponyboy was the one to drag you out into the cold oklahoma winter in the first place. he just wanted to watch the sunset with you, the person he liked.

he protested against your arguments of, ‘it’s so cold out, though! it’s so warm inside, pony. don’t make me go out there!’ with, ‘it’s just a sunset. it’ll be for a few minutes! i jus’ wanna watch it with you. please, y/n?’

‘watch the sunset,’ his ass. he looked at the setting sun maybe twice in the span of 3 minutes. you were too beautiful to not look at.

of course, and thankfully, you were oblivious to his staring.

“it’s really pretty,”

you muttered. your eyes were locked onto the horizon, and his were locked onto his future.

his future.

the more he thought about it, he really liked you. like, to the point where whenever he envisioned a mile stone in his life, you were always there.

when he imagined graduating, you’d be there. when he imagined going to college, you’d be there. when he imagined getting married, you’d be standing at the alter with him.

he loved his future.

he loved you.

“real pretty.”

ponyboy agreed, but for a different reason.

Sodapop Curtis

the moonlight seeped through the curtains of his room, illuminating the lines that it managed to sneak it’s way through. the midnight sky was bright, yet the moon seemed to be the only focus for the stars.

soda held you in his arms loosely, your head resting gently on his chest. he traced imaginary shapes on the lower part of your back.

the sound of his fan whirling rang out through his room, your breathing falling into a rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.

soda always seemed to notice when you were about to fall asleep, and you didn’t know how he did. you were starting to suspect he might be a wizard.

he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

his life was hectic. it really was. he was a dropout who works a full time job to help his older brother keep a roof over their head, and he worked as a middle man in arguments.

but you, you were a breath of fresh air.

he needed you like he needed water.

he needs you.

he loves needing something, and he loves needing you.

he loves you. soda loves you so, so, so much.

“good night, baby. i love you.”

Darry Curtis

“oh, y/n,”

darry sighed as he entered the kitchen. the smell of freshly cooked dinner wafted through the air, leaving a comforting taste in everyone’s mouth.

he walked up behind you, your back turned to him as your focus was on scrubbing the last bit of dishes. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as if he needed to be as close as possible.

he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes looking down at your hands in the sink. you turned your head to look back at him, your faces a mere centimetres away.

you couldn’t necessarily help the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips at seeing darry look so grateful.

darry was a busy, hardworking man. that's who he was, and who he will always be as long as he lives. he provides with no one to provide for him.

until you came into the photo.

darry was cooking dinner out of fear that soda'd burn the roasted potatoes he said he'd make, and ponyboy was just..not that good with anything other than eggs.

he was cooking, cleaning, and working. he had no time to himself, it seemed. but you, the angel you are, takes it off his hands. maybe it was to just have him all to yourself after work, he didn’t care.

you were the angel that he prayed for day and night.

and god knows how darry loves angels.

you ruffed his hair, not bothering to dry off the water that stuck to your skin. darry chuckled, lightly shaking his head in a poor attempt to dry his loose curls.

in his own retaliation, he pulls you impossibly close, attacking your face with as many kisses he could. giggles filled the room as you attempted to push yourself away from him, only for his grip to tighten.

he pulled away at his expense, pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.

“love you, doll. i really do,”

Steve Randle

“you’re always welcomed here, steve. you know that,”

you lightly scolded him as he sat on the edge of your bed. he’d been couch hopping before he came to you, a broken and embarrassed man.

you were rummaging around in your closest for another old blanket he could use, since from prior experience, you learned that steve has a tendency to hog the blanket you two shared.

“i know, i know.”

he begrudgingly grumbled, hurriedly avoiding eye contact with you with his head down, looking at his hands on his lap.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing just how embarrassed he looked asking for help tugged on your heart strings a little.

steve was never one to ask for help, no. he thought he was too prideful, too good, for help. he thought that he was superman with the way he thought he could help himself 24/7.

you sighed, taking a few steps toward him. you squatted down in front of him, lightly grabbing his hand and holding in it yours. he finally looked back at you with lowered brows, his eyes making him look way more innocent than he actually is.

“i hope you aren’t lying to me.”

“what?”

“do you actually know that i’m always here for you, or are you sayin’ that to shut me up?”

you questioned, allowing yourself to be straightforward since it seemed like that was the only language he knew.

steve shifted his eyes away from yours for a moment, a small huff leaving his lips.

“maybe.”

“steve,”

you started, the disappointment emanate in your tone. you stood up, letting go of his rough hand to cup his face. you forced him to look back at you.

“you know you aren’t ever a burden. i love having you around. i love you, okay? i wouldn’t ever push you away.”

you stated in the most soothing voice you could muster, looking him right in the eyes to really drive your point forward.

steve took awhile to react. he just looked back at you, letting your words process in his head. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close.

he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his breaths coming out shaky as he tried to calm himself.

he loved home, he really did.

and, look, steve isn’t stupid. he’s heard and understood the saying that, ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.’ but he always thought it was stupid.

how do you feel at home?

well, now he gets it.

with you in his arms, you comforting him and talking to him like he was a human, and he’s never felt more at home.

and holy shit, he loves this feeling.

“love you. love you so, so, so much.”

Two-Bit Mathews

laughter rang out through your empty living room, the television being completely drowned out.

you gasped for more air as you and two-bit laughed at an inside joke that seemed to only make sense to you two. you hand your hand on his shoulder, the other on your stomach. two-bit was leaning toward you unconsciously.

“holy hell, two-bit! that’s so messed up!”

you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t play into the jokes that slipped off his tongue.

“well, shit! then i guess we’re both messed up since you were jus’ talkin’ about-“

“hey, wait!”

you were quick to cut him off, leaning toward him to cover his mouth with your hand.

“don’t go snitchin’ on me!”

two-bit snickered to the best of his ability, grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you toward him closer. you stumbled toward him, two-bit catching you by putting his hands firmly on your hips.

looking back at you with a sloppy smile across your face, your eyes having a certain mischievous shine to them made it hard for two-bit to look away.

you were so beautiful when you were happy. you were always beautiful.

how someone like you was able to understand his type of humour is beyond him. he just knows that he’s lucky, and that he’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers.

he didn’t want to lose this moment, ever.

he loved moments like this.

though, he only ever experienced these moments with you. so, is it weird to say that he only loves moments that involve you? does that mean something?

does he love you?

yes, yes he does.

he’d let the whole world know that, too.

“god, i love you, pretty.”

[starzgaze]

"DARLING NO ESCAPE♡♡"

"i swear this is the last time I'm leaving them alone with you"

"oh it was just one time! and the chase was pretty fun don't you think?" -S.JW & L.Z

I'm actually insane over these two ahhah........ save me... anway reqs open hah...

[diz-eaze]

GOLDEN BOY. (yandere! childe x female reader)

; childe is freaky here :sweat:... written during 2023, modern au, suggestive content.

; Childe is an annoyance.

YOU KNOW Childe, or at the very least, you're aware of his existence. It's hard not to, with the way your peers spill and sing praises for him, honoring him like an angel sent from the heavens above.

Childe, sometimes referred to as Tartaglia, is the golden boy of your school - the embodiment of boyish charm and a cookie-cutter definition of being a 'Jock'. As far as you know, he plays for your high school basketball team, tall height and all.

Truly, it's hard to not be aware of who he is. Not when your friends' conversations orbit around him, not when the cheers of your school gymnasium are so deafeningly loud with the way they chant his time when he scores, and certainly not when your best friend herself is related to him - his cousin from his mother's side.

She doesn't speak of him much, only dropping his name and information about him when absolutely necessary - but they have a nice relationship if her avid support for his games is enough to tell. Sometimes, she tries to coax you into attending them, but you always refuse.

Sports has never interested you in any way, shape, or form - you don't even know the rules of Basketball, so what makes her think that you'll understand what would happen on the court? You'd rather spend your free time on something you enjoy doing.

And your dear best friend, Mila, is understanding enough. You have no interest in sports, you don't care for your school's basketball team, which by extension means you don't care enough for her cousin. She wishes you well with a tight hug goodbye and you part ways until the next time.

On a few occasions, she'll text you during the game when she's hyped up - a blurry picture of her cousin's shoot, a selfie of her grinning with her ginger hair matted from sweat, a panorama shot of the audience, really, whatever she can capture on her phone is what she sends.

This time, it's a selfie with her cousin after their game. Childe is soaked in sweat and wearing a victorious grin, with Mila cheekily smiling at the camera. A clean victory by your school, you surmise. In response, you reply back with a heart emoji - the orange one, her favorite.

You're not interested in Childe enough to get to know him, as you're sure your tastes in media and music alone are different enough. He just happens to be a cousin to your best friend, but that's where your connection to him draws the line. Despite Mila's subtle efforts to get you to befriend him, it's always turned down.

You prefer your friend group small and tight-knit.

And that's all there is to it.

So when you end up encountering him at your school's local convenience store at 2 AM in the morning, you're unsure of what to make of it.

His back is turned on you, his ginger locks move with his entire body as he scrummages through the freezer section all while humming a familiar pop song that's heard on radios. You think of completely ignoring him until he pays for his stuff and leaves, but the worry of being perceived as a snob and reported back to Mila lingers in the back of your mind.

And unluckily enough, there's no Mila around you to save you from an awkward social encounter.

You mentally groan. You really, really don't want to talk to random dimwits.

So you settle with your second option; hiding in one of the aisles and pray to the Celestia above that he's not familiar with you, hoping that he doesn't even know you. You pretend to busy yourself by comparing potato chip bags with other competitors, even letting out expressions of faux interest and nodding along in approval.

'How interesting, staring at a potato chip's logo for minutes straight,' You think. Vaguely, you note that his scrummaging still hasn't stopped, just what is he looking for in that freezer? Can't he just take one item (or several) and go?

You don't know how long you can endure standing around like some NPC, your patience is wearing incredibly thin. In fact, your sanity is on the brink of collapse - you still haven't finished watching that Netflix TV show back in your dorm room. You only went out to fulfill your cravings, damn it.

A few minutes later, you stop inspecting the potato chips and sigh. You admit defeat. Whatever happens, happens. You truly doubt he knows you, you're probably just one of the million faces that he comes across in his everyday life. With that thought, you grab a drink to accompany your potato chips.

Just take your items to the counter and flee like a raccoon into the night, easy.

You fall into line, just behind a heavily pregnant lady carrying a pack of diapers. Your hands itch to pry open the bag of chips already, but you persist. It's best eaten during a dramatic episode and in the comfort of your mattress.

The sound of muted footsteps approaches your general direction and it's not long before a new voice speaks up.

"Oh! I didn't think I'd see you around here, miss!"

Irritation and dread mix together and pool at the bottom of your stomach, it seems your expression has shifted as the ginger-haired man barks out a jovial laugh.

"What's with that expression, Miss!?" He jests, moving to elbow you but you just move out of the way - not fond of strangers touching you.

Schooling your facial features into one of complete neutrality, you turn to address him. "Didn't expect to see you too." And you mean it.

The pregnant lady finishes paying for her items and it's finally your turn. Unceremoniously, you drop the junk food onto the counter and pretend to busy yourself once more by watching the employee ring up each one.

"Hey," He waves an arm around at your side.

"Hellooo, miss?" He drawls out, tilting his head left and right. It's kind of cute, you'll admit. He looks like a fox or a golden retriever.

But you have no time to entertain him, not when the employee just finished up bagging your times - leaving you to your last course of action; run after paying.

And you do just that, you break out into a sprint with a hurried, "Please keep the change."

You ignore the cries of your name from that dreaded ginger man, and you're surprised to find that he knew who you are - perhaps Mila had talked to him about you and showed a few pictures on occasion.

Still, you continue on running in thought that he may have done the same as soon as he paid for his items. When you return back to your dorm room, you unintentionally shut the door with a loud noise and you wince. You hope that didn't wake up Mila.

You're exhausted now, sweat drips from your unathletic body, and you need a shower badly. Curse you, Childe.

At least Mila will have an interesting story to hear from you when the sun rises.

It seems that the moment you encountered Childe inside that convenience store, your entire life's axis had been turned upside down since then. Now, Childe sticks to Mila and you whenever there's free time.

Mila doesn't mind, of course, she doesn't - he's her relative. But you do, you're bothered by him. Very much so.

You prefer to live life quietly and with no fuss - opting to just listen to music up on the rooftop as you leisurely eat your meal and enjoy the scenery of the light blue skies. Often times you and Mila spend lunchtime separated from each other as she prefers to socialize.

But Childe, basketball player, expert annoyance, the golden boy of your high school. So, so infuriating. So absurdly annoying that he follows you up to the rooftop (as opposed to joining his cousin) with a huge grin and imaginary flowers surrounding him - treating this like a joyous field trip.

You have to hold back the profanities that threaten to tumble from your mouth - you must remain civil, no matter how much he gets under your skin.

Childe is the very antithesis of your being - he's loud, upbeat, friendly, and touchy-feely.

He is everything that you are not - he takes your world for a spin and you don't like it. You hate the peace in your routine being disrupted, you hate seeing change in your life - you loathe meeting new people.

"What's your lunch today, Miss (Y/N)?" Childe calls out from behind you. He's wearing his jersey jacket and his orange hair is all tussled from the wind of the rooftop.

"...Dunno." You dully respond and shrug, sitting down near the edge. He follows you without hesitation, even sitting right next to you with a questionable amount of distance.

"And stop calling me miss." You add on as an afterthought, digging into your meal, ignoring his awed expression at the neat arrangement.

"huh, why not?" He questions you, opening up his lunchbox that reveals neatly packed sandwiches - reminding you that he's a foreigner, not a native to your country.

You pause your chewing to answer, "Because it's unnecessary."

"Why?" He whines out, dramatically falling to the ground as he clutches his sandwich.

"We're the same age." You deadpan, completely fed-up, and drained of his energy. You were not built to handle his hyperactive behavior.

"Am I not allowed to show respect now?" He pouts, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"Respect for what?" You ask, reaching out for your water bottle.

He smirks as if he caught you in his trap. He sits back up, getting close to you (you grimace). "Respect for a pretty girl, 'f course."

"...Yuck."

Not a month into his presence in your life, and you already feel like lashing out.

You hate him, you truly do. You want to take him by the throat and choke him until he can't breathe so you don't have to listen to his integrating voice ever again. You want to hinder his career as some uprising basketball player. You want to drag his reputation into the mud - you want to see him suffer and humiliate for all the annoyance he's brought into your life.

Stupid, irate jock who thinks he's hot shit. Some loser who deems it to be appropriate to act buddy-buddy with a schoolmate who he just saw at the convenience store. A petty boy thinking he owns the school - so, so annoying. It makes your blood boil.

How can Mila be related to someone like him?

Your grip on your water bottle tightens, and you struggle to keep your composure.

It's fine, you suppose.

It's not like he'll stick around for much longer.

Next month, surely, he'll be gone by then - too swarmed by academics and sports to remember to bother you.

Surely.

You never thought of yourself to become a criminal, it's just pointless and a hassle to get behind bars. But, as you stare blankly into the eyes of the sheepish ginger man rubbing the nape of his neck, you feel like this might be your best chance at becoming a murderer.

Vaguely, you register your hands shaking from sheer rage. It feels like there's cotton in your ears, you're struggling to hear what Childe - rather, Ajax - is trying to say. You think he's apologizing with the way his lips are moving, but you can't be sure.

Your tired eyes scan the surroundings, ignoring him completely.

From the mess on the ground, somewhere there, you know there's a pair of scissors - sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to stab, and sharp enough to wound. It's sharp.

You remember that same pair of scissors being used for that damned art project - the same one that Ajax just ruined. You spent days, weeks, and months perfecting and enduring the art project with him as your partner. Yet, it seems it's all for naught as it all comes tumbling down to the ground just a week before the deadline.

You know there isn't enough time to recreate it, and now, your grades are at stake. You're torn between laughing or crying at the sheer frustration of it all.

Taking a step closer, you continue to stare intently at the scissors. You take another step forward, and another. Then another. You bend down, still not registering the words Ajax is currently spewing out, and you pick up the scissors.

Inspecting it, you notice there's tape residue left on the blades, along with the smallest bits of paper stuck to it - just another reminder of your hard work that amounted to nothing.

Days staying up until late at night just to tweak some parts, the amount of lunch times skipped just so you can work on your joining project, the willpower it took just to be cordial with golden boy Childe.

You glance down at the pile of mess, Ajax had hastily entered your room - completely missing your warnings and exclamations of caution - and ended up tripping on the entire project. Now, all that's left are mangled pieces that can never be glued back together.

A mess that can't be submitted.

You stare back down at the pair of scissors in your possession.

You slowly blink.

Scissors are good, but you prefer a box cutter more.

You haphazardly let go of the scissors, letting them hit the ground with a dull thud.

Almost robotically, you maneuver toward one of the drawers in your room - one where you know the box cutter is stored. You walk past Ajax who's still spewing out utter nonsense and you hold back the urge to just choke him to death.

Patience is key.

You rummage through each drawer until your hands grasp the familiar handle of your box cutter - a pretty shade of yellow with the blade just recently replaced. You slide the handle until most of the blade is peeking out, glinting against the light in your room.

A minuscule smile carves itself into your face.

It's showtime, might as well enjoy your first act of crime before you're caught.

You turn around, hiding the box cutter behind your back and you start walking toward Ajax. His words are finally starting to make sense, as if the cotton in your ears earlier has been removed and instead replaced with the foreboding feeling of euphoria that's yet to come.

"...-ey? (Y/N)? Look, I'm really sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you! I swe-!"

Ajax doesn't get to finish his sentence before you lunge at him and straddle him to the ground, pressing the blade of the box cutter right up against his neck. Your thighs wrap around his waist and your other hand harshly tugs at his orange hair.

"Shut up," You sneer, pressing the blade deeper. You stare into his blue eyes, noting that his pupils are enlarged with a red flush tinting his cheeks.

"Shutupshutupshutupshutup- you're so annoying. I've endured you for months now and that's all you have to say? I had to deal with your bullshit and this is what I get?"

Unexpectedly, he moans.

Drawn out and filled with pleasure, it caught you off guard and you lean back to scrutinize him. Just then, you feel a hardness pressing up against your ass and the way his face is contorted into a state of utter bliss. He's acting like this is heaven on earth - to be threatened and pinned down to the floor of your bedroom.

You know you should stop, especially if this does nothing but arouse him - but you're too far angry to let this chance go by - you've been yearning for payback. You lean back down, closer to his ear this time to whisper,

"...Are you seriously getting off to this? What the actual fuck?" He frantically nods, bopping his head up and down. You press the blade in deeper, close to marking his skin and it gets him going even more.

He's insane, you realize. You breathlessly laugh, not expecting him to be this deranged.

"You're such a pervert Childe, did you plan this? Did you want me to kill you on my bedroom floor? Do you get off on the thought of me slicing your neck open right now? Does it get your dick hard that bad?"

He's panting now, desperately grinding his erection against the curve of your ass - desperate to get any friction. "Ajax, it's Ajax," He corrects, moaning even more when you shove two of your fingers into his mouth to shut him up. But he's undeterred. "Mm, planned this from 'ta start, wanted you 'so badly since forever."

"Really?" You prod, creating a shallow cut across his neck, letting beads of blood scatter the surface of his skin. He moans harder, groaning and panting as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. Wanting a response, you briefly retrieve your fingers to let him formulate a response.

Drool spills from the corner of his mouth, occasionally mingling with the blood on his neck. It's messy. He pants harshly, gathering his bearings. "Yeah," He breathes out, grinding harder. "I bribed 'ta professors into being your, ah, partner. Purposely walked into your room to ruin the project so we-" He groans, letting his head thump against the floor as you drag the blade to his chest. "-we can spend more time together. I wanted to steal your panties and bra today when you're out of your room. Wanted you since forever, want you 'so bad 'm going insane."

"Wanted you since I saw you in Mila's tagged posts."

"...Huh." You huff out, amused. "That far back, wow."

You gently slice through his clothes, exposing his toned but scarred chest. Lightly, you trace along his muscles using the blade.

He nods, "Yeah, wanna be your dog. I wanna be your pet. Want you to attach me to a leash and call me a good boy,"

You hum, undeterred by his furious humping - you don't care if he cums or not. "I don't know, maybe come up with our art project before the deadline and I'll think about it."

"Please, I'll do anything." He whimpers, groaning when you grip his face.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

You hate him, you truly do.

[slapintoaslimjim]

*clears throat*

why is no one talking about how izuku midoryia is the type to write you love letters or even draw you something that reminded him of you; or the two of you??

he’s such a sickening detailed oriented boy with a notebook filled with notes and drawings about heros and his classmates quirks, and knows so much about his friends as well.

just imagine, you two get together romantically, and his way of confessing is writing a sickeningly sweet love letter to you.

the two of you walking together on the sidewalks of the city on a chilly night, the stars bright, street lamps are bright and the two of you yapping away.

“oh! there’s something i wanted you to read” he announces after a few beats of comfortable silence passes, his hands fiddling in his jacket pocket and a shy adorable smile on his face.

he pulls out a folded sheet of notebook paper, handing it to you with that same smile. you accept it of course with a smile of your own.

“zuku, is this..?” you ask with a soft grin and eyebrow raise while unfolding the paper, already having a general idea of what he just handed you.

“maybe” is all the green eyed boy replies with, grinning so adorably hard while also blushing ever so slightly.

your attention is sucked into the letter he handed you, the extension of details enough to put shakespeare to shame. the way he confesses his love for you through words is adoring, it’s like art. from the way be describes how you make him feel, to how he feels about you, it’s art.

you pick your attention back up from the paper and look at izuku with tears welled in your eyes. holding the paper in your hands shakily.

“zu..” you manage to say softly, a soft smile on your lips as you look at the grinning boy.

izuku raises his hands and gently uses his thumbs to wipe any tears that threaten to fall, his touch is so soft to your skin that it gives you goosebumps.

“soooo does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?”

“i’d have to be crazy to say no to someone like you”

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: heavily inspired by hannibal - after hearing tons of praise in regards to psychiatrist!max verstappen, you decide to test your luck and see what his true colors are 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you're not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following in this fic: dubcon, drugging/aphrodisiac, knife play, cunnilingus, p in v, character death, reader is not a good person, blood/gore, slapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to give a special shoutout to @gokyrts because look at the abomination she's made me write, oh my god...

"mr. verstappen's skills knows no bounds, but the only ones being bound under his spell are the countless patients he must've paid to spread his work as if it were a gospel," you echoed the words that you wrote onto your laptop, the rough draft being filled with small notes on the side of the document to remind you of any criticism of the man that you might've missed the first time. your fingers drummed against the keys of your laptop, your brows furrowed as you tried to find another sentence to add. to spite him. to inform him that he had to be a greedy, money hungry hoax. your friends always told you that his appointments were so relaxing, they were very helpful but you saw through his lies. you knew that something had to be up. working as a forensic scientist for the BAU, and secretly organizing a crime blog under a pseudonym, you've racked up enough credentials to be under verstappen's radar. perhaps he was the only one that knew about the blog, and it irked you.

he mentioned once after you stopped by his office to request his presence in the lab. direct orders from your boss, you stated, making it very clear with your tone that you didn't ask for it. you'd rather die than have him near the corpse, stealing all the credit that should rightfully go to you. the depths you went to find the real perpetrator days later was overshadowed by the single fact that verstappen had walked in and saw a petal of a rose just underneath the right calf of the corpse. a careless mistake, he told your boss, but one that could be easily tweaked if you had just scheduled an appointment with him so he could discuss parts of your childhood that you locked away, buried underneath your heels so that every time you stomped around, you imagined it to be the throat of your parents. you were told to accompany the psychiatrist back to his office, and when you dropped him off he merely smiled at you, his dutch accent infiltrating your ears, "you always miss the details, which is surprising because you never seem to do it under your blog, caroli- i mean, ms. (l/n)."

your blood ran cold at his words, and you stumbled out of his office with a hardened glare. he was reading your blog, and had somehow directed it to you. how did he know? there was no possible way for him to know. you worked for the fbi, for peter's sake, you knew how to tidy up evidence, to be careful when lurking through unclear waters. how did the bastard know about this? so, when you typed up the new article criticizing his work and suggesting that he might be behind the disappearance of a few colleagues of yours, you knew he would read it. with full confidence, you wanted him to read it and storm into your office ready to snap your neck.

but he never did. in fact, he never even looked at you at all the next day. or the day after. or the week after. he smiled at your associates, then locked himself in his room, welcoming in patients and booking appointments for the ones too timid to ask him for one. during a lunch break, you walked past his hallway and pressed your ear against his door to listen in to an appointment he had with your friend. the shattering of glass, a muffled scream, the sound of a bullet, metal cracking against her skull, any sound would do for you. you just needed one piece of evidence, but you received none. your friend walked out unscathed, a happy smile on her face as she greeted you back in the lab. your eyes cast down to your hands, a feeling of momentary guilt rising in your gut. you wanted to forge your hands into the fire for writing that article and painting him in a bad light; no favorable colors, no accurate brush strokes, a half-assed attempt where the paint bled through the canvas, seeping through the lines that you carefully concocted. it didn't make sense, you were so sure of it! all the victims -charles, lewis, carlos, daniel - your good friends who were missing had one thing in common: they had booked appointments with verstappen before their disappearance. they also were in contention to get a promotion, daniel had also been a psychiatrist, eagerly waiting for his new life to become the head of the department one day. it was a risky move, but you figured that if you pushed his buttons enough, he'd slip up. he'd expose himself, he'd make a mistake and then you'd have him trapped. the entire BAU would understand that they had a criminal right under their noses this entire time.

for this entire plan to succeed, you had to do a few things. your first plan was to write more articles on your secret blog. while the BAU was scratching their heads about how their confidential cases were being exposed so easily, you were dropping bombshell after bombshell on your blog, your finger always pointing to the psychiatrist that would now look at you across the room with a deadly glint in his eyes. his lips were always in a thin line, and occasionally you caught him smirking whenever you'd miss a detail during analysis. you were predictable to him, and you needed to find a way to defeat him at his own game. there was a reason as to why he hadn't exposed you yet, perhaps the lack of evidence but you realized that there was something about you that made him keep quiet. you had power over him, the thought of it made you giggle uncontrollably at your desk one day, spinning around your chair like a little school girl. the second plan was to use his own tricks against him, which meant finally noticing the smaller details, being smarter than the rest of the team and most importantly, being incredibly fast. whether it be responding to your boss, showing up to a meeting, scavenging a crime scene to find clues or evidence, you had to be first. this entire time the team thought of him as reliable because he was the first one present at all times. you had to change that, had to show the team that the tide was turning to your favor. you noticed the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek, the light illuminating from the side would highlight his cheekbones, the dent a shadow amongst the very little light on his face.

and then finally, the third part of your plan. book the appointment with him. this one hurt your ego the most, but in order to catch him you had to stoop down to his level. making him think that you were willing to open up to him should give him the opportunity to do the same with you, and once vulnerable you could easily coax the truth out of him. you sat across from him on a velvet chair, legs crossed as your eyes traveled around the room, memorizing the layout of his office and the objects that were on display.

"lots of cars i see here," you pointed towards one large model of an RB19 on his shelf. he buried his hands in his pockets, teetering on his toes as he let out a small chuckle,

"i like things that are fast. things that fly, speed through... run," the last word sent shivers down your spine, but you swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and forced a smile at him.

"care for a drink? i got some wine if you'd like?" he walked over to the stand of champagne bottles on display. the glass sparkled under the light, its contents swishing around with each step that he took closer. it reminded you of your guts wanting to spill out and as he grabbed the bottle's neck, you gulped and felt the ghost of his hands tightening around yours. with a cough, you shook your head but he rolled his shoulders in a way of disbelief and stalked over to you with a wine glass in his hand, "please, i think you need it. it's ok, it'll help you relax."

the liquid pooled down your throat, but you kept your eyes open in fear that he might take advantage of you like this. you couldn't let your guard down, not like this. you watched as he settles down on the couch directly across from you, his legs spread out giving you an ample view of what you assumed to be his cock fighting to be restrained in his pants but with a firm snap of his fingers, your eyes flicker up to his face and then you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face. you hadn't seen one in weeks.

"so why exactly did you book this appointment?" he asked, tilting his head. his hands clasped together, the forefingers coming up to touch his lips. you shrugged in response, before quickly shaking your head. shit, you needed to follow along with the plan you made!

"just... just been having some bad nightmares about my past," you responded. the topic of your parents was sensitive, one that you kept hidden for many years after you graduated high school. their death was their own doing, but somehow you felt that you had a part in it. had the murderer been you, it would've made no difference because the guilt remained. the bystander was far worse than the actual criminal. your mother's head rolling down the hill as your father watched with a twisted back. you winced at the memories, the glass slipping from your hands, "fuck!"

max watched your reactions carefully. his eyes were drawn to the way your fingers hovered over the glass, almost afraid that it would grab you. you paid no mind to the wine stain, but the countless apologies that spilled from your lips was music to his ears. he wanted to hear you say them, but in a very different circumstance. he read every article you wrote, he noticed your shift in behavior around him. he was a psychiatrist; if you wanted to play mind games with him, he was already ten steps ahead. while guiding you to stand near the shelf of cars, he went over to his closet to grab the broom and dustpan. he took off his coat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt before crouching down to gently grab the large pieces of glass. he dragged his finger onto the pool of wine on the floor and licked a long stripe, "such a shame. i always hate seeing my appetite go to waste."

the appointment was cut short much to your chagrin. your carelessness, you thought to yourself, you just didn't understand why you kept making small mistakes like this. you had to train your mind to be better. you sighed and gave one last glance to the RB19 model when you noticed the initials D.R. in italics on the edge of the car. before you could step closer, you felt strong arms grab onto your shoulders, guiding you out the door, "ms. (l/n), i am so sorry about what happened here. i would love to hear more about your past, but perhaps in a setting that might not scare you too much. dinner at my house, maybe? would that be an offer you're willing to take up?"

you frowned at his words, wriggling away from his touch, "you invite all your patients to your house for dinner?"

"only the ones i believe i have a strong connection with," he responded, licking his lips as he leant against the doorframe. you tapped your heels a couple times, thinking the offer over. if you declined, you'd have to come back to his stupid office. but... but if you accepted, you'd be able to catch him in his environment - and while he had the advantage of home ground - he definitely had to be hiding things there.

"you mind if i bring a friend over?" you asked, and he smiled,

"the more the merrier, but i don't think we can talk about your history then."

"it's ok. we can talk about my life later."

"6:30 at my place, i'll send the address down to you shortly."

"oh, mr. verstappen, dinner is very lovely! did you make this all by yourself?" your friend asked while taking a bite of the lasagna. her words are tuned out as you shifted through your food with a fork. the darkness of the dining room did little to ease any of your fears. you had walked in feeling confident, ready to tackle the monster down with your bare hands, but his kindness. his professionalism. his unwavering stare. they all made you feel as if you were being suffocated. you didn't have much energy in you to continue with the fake conversations. excusing yourself to use the bathroom to then explore his mansion would be too cliche, he'd be waiting for you to do it anyway. being too predictable would bore him, which would mean the chances of you being killed would be higher.

"not liking the food, ms. (l/n)?" max asked, his eyes flickering down to the food he cooked being tossed around like a bird amongst hyenas.

"no, i'm just... not very hungry, unfortunately," you responded, grabbing the wine to drink.

"a bite wouldn't hurt. just one bite, i spent hours cooking for tonight," he chuckled, and your friend kicked your leg under the table, her eyes narrowing at you to take a bite. you could already hear what she was saying in her mind. the poor man went out of his way for dinner and here you are, being a rude guest! with a very reluctant sigh, you grab hold of the fork and let your teeth sink onto the lasagna, the flavor melting into your tastebuds as you let out a slow hum of approval. it tasted nice, very nice actually. so you took another bite, and then another. her appetite's back, your friend laughed and max nodded his head, smiling at you.

but when dessert rolled in, you felt uneasy. your insides felt empty, as if craving for something that you couldn't quite place. your thighs clenched together as your gripped onto the arms of the chair. you couldn't make out whatever max was saying. he was asking you if you were alright, but his eyes asked a different question. you hadn't noticed how big his eyes were before, or the fact that his pupils were so dilated. how did you miss that detail before? was he always like this? you quickly excused yourself, running to the bathroom but each brush of your thigh under the thigh made you choke on air, your mind hazy. upon locking yourself inside, you immediately collapsed onto the ground, your head in your hands. you felt strong pair of hands around your waist, groping at your tits that spilled out of your dress - or was it be ripped off of you? your pussy bare against the cold dampness of the room, your mouth propped open with fingers as the sweet taste of an apple made its way. your jaw was sore at how your teeth delved into the fruit and stood rooted there as your arms were bound above your head. was that the woody scent of a candle, or the fireplace that was underneath you? where was that burning sensation? under you... or inside you? your legs were being spread apart, the itchy rope curling around your limbs to make sure you wouldn't move. you opened your eyes lazily to see a figure with dirty blonde hair at the end of the table, his shiny teeth visible amongst the evil grin you saw.

"my favorite meal... all to myself." he whispered, letting his tongue rake over your glistening folds. your strangled moans are swallowed by the apple in your mouth, your body aching for more as his nose nudges your clit. his teeth nip at your labia, tongue invading your womanhood as you can't do anything but scream out loud, drooling from the corners of your mouth. his tongue rolls your clit around, lapping at any juice that seeps from your cunt. he wants to ensure your taste is on his tongue forever. the sweetest dessert that one would ask for. his fingers spread your mound to get a good look at his masterpiece and he lets his saliva stalk down to your pussy before harshly rubbing your clit. when you finally look past your tits to see who this figure was: your heart stopped at the sight of max staring down at you with a predatory look.

you screamed as you woke up in your bed, cold sweat dripping down your forehead. you glanced down to your hands, your feet, your clothes that covered your body. you looked around your room, unsure as to how you were back in your bedroom. it felt real... was it real? you couldn't tell. you pulled the waistband of your panties down, check to see if you were still a wet mess. nothing. laying back down on your bed, you placed a hand on your heaving chest and ran your free hand down your face. what just happened? what was going on? you had to find out, you had to get to the bottom of this.

which meant having to go back to his house. on guard, and once again with someone. you decided to bring a colleague that you despised, but it would be better to sacrifice her than your friend.

you sat across the dining table, and despite how predictable it was, you excused yourself to the bathroom, keeping note as to how his eyes focused on your ass. never miss the details, you thought to yourself. you headed to the bathroom, opening the door to turn the lights on before shutting the door. with a few fake thuds just outside the bathroom door, you took your heels off and carefully took them with you around the staircase. with the layout of the house, the dining room wouldn't give clear access to the left side of the kitchen. which meant that the pantry could be entered carefully without him noticing. your colleague was busy entertaining him about her vacation in milan, her loud voice thunderous enough to rattle the house... and enough to mask the creaking of the pantry door as you slipped inside. it was cold, almost like entering the arctic as you pulled out a tiny flashlight to guide you through the foreign place. the meat hung forlornly from the hooks, the torse of a pig on display. you frowned at the ink patterns on the meat, and you hesitantly turned it around. you'd seen these marks before somewhere. a vacation trip with your friends that you planned one evening. someone had dragged you into the pool as a prank and when you floated to the surface, spluttering out the chlorine water, your hands found the shoulders of a man inked with tattoos on his back. it was lewis. your flashlight slipped out of your hands and clattered onto the metal railings.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you hissed, scrambling to grab the small material. you were delighted that your suspicions were correct, that this entire time you were right about verstappen. but you needed to get out. you could see the shadow of footsteps underneath the pantry door. there was a back entrance to the pantry, and you stumbled towards it. from the corner of your eye you noticed a bottle of liquid and you uncapped it with your teeth, chugging the liquid down. you really needed some wine to calm your nerves down at the moment. letting the bottle roll back onto the metal table, you ran out the door into the open woods. you'd have to go around the path to get back to your car in the front of the house. the more minutes you stood to think about a plan, the more time was being wasted. from the distance, you could hear the back entrance of his house being opened and you whined out loud, pushing your feet to continue running. you didn't want to die, not like this... no, not now, not ever!

and yet with each step that you took, you felt a strong pain inside you. that pain you felt when you had dinner for the first time at his house. you were craving for something, you didn't know. was it his tongue again? no, what? why were you thinking about that awful nightmare? you remembered the outline of his cock during your first appointment, oh it looked delectable. you could've gotten on your knees then and sucked him as payment for the appointment! as your mind was reeling with uncontrolled desire, your knees buckled and your leg caught onto a root from a tree. crashing forward with a loud groan, you struggled to get back up on your feet when you felt the underside of a boot press gently against your neck, pushing your face onto the ground.

"i told you before i liked things that run. at this point, you're just teasing me," a familiar dutch voice rang from above you. the boot nudged you over onto your back, causing you to hold back a whimper at the sensation. you were sensitive to everything, your skin on fire as he trailed his foot down your body and right below your heat. right below where your desire was burning.

"y-you killed them. i was right, you killed them all," you weakly laughed, "i was right this entire fucking time."

"round of applause for you, ms. (l/n), oh wait..." he paused, looking around the empty woods before he glanced down to you, "no one's here." he rubbed the toe-box of his boot against your clothed cunt, enjoying the way your back arched, squealing at the way your clit was being dragged along your damp panties.

"tsk tsk tsk," he circled to stand right in front of you between your legs, "you always missed the details. you could've made it, you know? you could've gotten to your car and made it back to your house, schatje. but it's your carelessness... what did you drink before you came out here?"

"w-w-wine?" you responded, tilting your head. you let out another moan as the boot dug deeper onto your mound.

"wine mixed into the aphrodisiac. which would've been my last resort if you had properly rescheduled the appointment that we never finished. details, ms. (l/n), always look at the details," he knelt down, letting his hand replace his boot. the warmth of his fingers made you whine, begging him to end your suffering. your mind was purely empty - save the thought of having him satisfy your primal needs. he bunched up your panties, tugging them up to see your pussy coat the fabric with more of your juices, "fuck... you're so wet. it must hurt doesn't it? you wish you had someone to help you, schat?"

"yes, yes, yes please... please!" you cried, bucking your hips up. max laughed, seeing the way your pussy was grinding against your panties. he ripped them off of you, throwing them over his shoulder as he picked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were his bride.

"i think a change of environment will put you in your place." he mumbled, and while you didn't catch onto it at first, when he tossed you onto the metal table in his pantry, you felt fear course through your body. "such a nice suit i had on today, and now you made me ruin it."

he slips off his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his shirt that hugged his biceps. he searched around the pantry for a while before grabbing an apron, tying it around his slim waist. he gazed up at you as his chin tucked into his neck and he let out a dry laugh, "you know... if you had just stuck to your job, this wouldn't have been a problem. always wanting to be the hero, when you're the villain yourself."

he grabbed the butcher knife, tossing it in the air a couple times, "i used to keep him with a bunch of other knives, all neatly organized just like i love. had to use him so often these days that he gets his own special spot. what do you think? he's beautiful isn't he?" he holds the knife up to your hooded eyes, and when you don't respond, he uses the butt of the utensil to slap your face, beckoning you to respond.

"i-it's nice," you mumbled, and he nods his appreciatively, letting the sharp edge of the object gently kiss your skin before he cut away at your dress and bra, exposing all of you to him. he saw the lump in your throat when you swallowed, and he brought the edge of the knife to your neck, watching you crane around to avoid the sharp edge. he tossed the knife in the air once again, which caused you to shriek out loud in fear that it'll slice you but he caught it and tapped the butt of the knife on your lips.

"suck," he commanded, and still clouded by the aphrodisiac, you do what he asked and twirled your tongue around the tip before opening your mouth wider and letting it fully devour your throat. you caught your reflection in the metal, and you can't even believe how blinded you must be. the details, the details, the details. the body of daniel hanging above you, staring at you with closed eyes and parted lips should have you screaming as you rolled your eyes back, but instead you're feeling yourself growing wetter, eager to please max. the weapon hits your teeth as max trailed your saliva down the valley of your tits, over your navel and to your cunt that's been so desperate this entire time. he pursed his lips as if he was deep in thought and then brought his free hand to spread your legs wider, shoving the butt of the knife into you. the feeling of being stretched out, of finally being filled - even if only a little - had your back escape the confines of the metal table, your tits out in the air as you're sobbing in joy. max saw the way you're mewling, body contorting in pleasure and he left your cunt empty once again before slamming the butcher knife right beside your head. your breath hitched in your throat, the fear once again settling but it made your heart race in excitement. there was a small thrill present, maybe he was right earlier. you were the villain all along. you were worse than him. he took off the apron, unbuckling his belt and he snickered,

"you could've grabbed the knife and stabbed me by now, but you didn't... too desperate to get fucked, isn't that right, liefje?"

he let his cock spring free from the confines that tormented him since the day he saw you at the BAU. head held high, a haughty gleam in your eyes. the arrogance as you talked down to him, acted as if you were superior. he was waiting all along for this moment. his cock slid against your folds and when he pushed in, the tears that flowed from your eyes combined with the guttural moan made him smile. something was missing though, something that could make this so much more better for him. and as he began to thrust, he glanced up to see another corpse from a previous victim hanging to the side. a cruel idea formed in his mind and he grinned down at you,

"schatje, i don't think i could bring myself to hurt you... not when you're being such a good slut for me," he cooed, "but... but a man can't help but imagine..."

he grabbed hold of the butcher knife, slicing the corpse and letting the blood splatter onto the top half of your body. it trickled onto the table beneath you, the tiled floor now the canvas of a new twisted desire. he laughed out loud at the sight of half of your face covered in blood, and he brought the coated knife to your neck, continuing to thrust his aching cock into you as you screamed out loud in a horrid mix of fear and desire. you could feel your cunt clamp onto his cock, so close to cumming as his thrusts became more erratic.

"i knew you'd like this... you came all this way here to see if you could understand me. schat, but do you even know who you are?" he questioned, letting the edge of the knife kiss your neck. and as you came undone with a scream, your vision blurring at the intensity, you realized he was right all along. the details, you missed all the details. your parents death wasn't because of some man that had swerved the car late at night. it was you. you swung the sledgehammer at the car while they were driving down the highway, drunk out of your mind out of anguish from all the abuse you faced as a child. the man stopped to see the commotion and you sent his body flying down the hill. you'd done it, you were a murderer. you were twisted, you were... you were as bad as him. you glanced up to see max still bullying your cunt, pushing you to another orgasm before you could process the toll your body was taking in the process.

"your scent always drove me wild," he whispered, leaning down to bite your nipple, "fuck, schatje... i'll give you a deal." he lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze, "we can work together, you know? with your skill and this cunt of yours, i could keep you around. no harm to you at all, unless of course you'd like it."

"t-the blog... no, no, i can't... i'm better than you. i'm not you, i'm not fucked up like - oh fuck, don't stop!" your argument melts away with each snap of his hips,

"you have no other choice here. there's two ways this can go. you keep coming to my office, be my personal slut, trained completely to take my cock and i'll let you live... with the added benefit of working and helping me. and if you don't," the butcher knife digs a bit deeper into your neck, "i think you understand what i mean, right schatje?"

you nod your head, throwing your head back as you let out another visceral scream as your second orgasm rips through your body. he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, murmuring praises at how perfect you'd be, how you were always destined for this, no matter how much your ego told you differently.

and yet as you laid beside him on his bed that night, well-cleaned and taken care of as his new trophy, you secretly uploaded the photos of his pantry to your blog and slipped out of his house, past your dead colleague in the living room. he'd come after you, that was for sure. but he liked to hunt, and you've learned to run.

[celuere]

Hear me out, some people be calling arle “mommy” are cowards 🗣️ call her daddy or go home

realest thing ever said, like what exactly did not click in her sq???? did you play with your eyes and ears closed? did the point of her character fly over your head??? „it‘s not that deep“ but they’re mostly the same type of people going into cardiac arrest when you tell them that arle is a professional woman kisser, NOT A SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS WOMAN IS STRAIGHT NOR MOMMY-LIKE GO HOOOOOOOOME😭 she canonically hates dresses do not put her into the domesticated mother role, that one is reserved for her WIFE YEEEEHAWWWWWW😻😻😻😻😝😝😝😝😝

[sevikasrightboob]

i love how sevika always wins in these poll abt who the author should write abt next

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Random thought but what ab the tenjiku guys with a ticklish s/o, and I mean ticklish in almost EVERYWHERE (hips, neck, CALVES😭😭) nsfw?

Tenjiku x Ticklish!Reader

♡ SFW and NSFW, fem reader, fingering, oral->fem receiving, fucking, men being pervy and horny ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mochi, Mucho, Shion

note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷

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Izana

🎴 Tickles you every chance he gets and is absolutely merciless

🎴 Will tickle you until you cry and then laugh at your tears

🎴 It always ends with you pinned underneath him while he fingers you and apologizes for tickling you (he's not sorry btw)

Kakucho

🩷 Only tickles you occasionally and probably apologizes for it after

🩷 Didn't realize you were ticklish damn near everywhere until you started squirming around while he was rubbing your thigh

🩷 Takes the rest of the day to discover every ticklish spot on your body

Ran

💜 Threatens to tickle you as a punishment

💜 Pretends like he's about to wrap his arms around your waist just to tickle you

💜 Tickles you during sex, usually by accident but sometimes on purpose because he thinks it's funny

Rindou

🩵 Kisses your neck a lot even though he knows you're ticklish there, he just can't help himself

🩵 Lightly runs his fingers over your thighs when you sit in his lap and rolls his eyes when you start moving around

🩵 Started tying his hair back while he eats you out so it doesn't brush against your thighs

Mochi

🍡 He tickles you just to hear you whine

🍡 Pinches you then tickles you when you let your guard down

🍡 Puts you in a full nelson and ends up tickling your calves

Mucho

🔷 You're ticklish all over and he's not ticklish at all

🔷 He won't tickle you unless you try to tickle him first

🔷 Holds you extra tight when he fucks you so you don't think he's trying to tickle you

Shion

🖤 He's ticklish too and is always starting tickle fights with you

🖤 Literally chases you around the house like a damn lunatic trying to tickle you

🖤 Only admits defeat under special circumstances, which is usually when you pull him into a hug and bury his face in your chest

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @prncessrindou @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[fungateshortcakes]

No, thank YOU for existing like literally

He is so older boyfriend I can't take this anymore. My new years resolution is to date him, give him sloppy head every day and treat him right ♡♡♡

[hellsitedotcom]

I dunno why, but I think Aventurine would be the kind of person to tease you and playfully flirt with you acting like he's not serious but he actually is (maybe he doesn't want it to be true), and every time you reply to his jokes/teases seriously, he gets caught hella off-guard.

like, him being like ''You'd catch me if I fall, right? *wink wink*'' and you'd be like ''I would'' (dead serious) and his mind just short-circuits for a second like

[crimsonbubble]

HONGJOONG IN THIS VIDEO GOOD GOD HES ASKING TO BE SUCKED OFF

[gojosoups]

Dad's best friend trope with bruce wayne fr

Imagine being the daughter of a cop—your dad—a good man, a great father, taken from you too soon.

He was sent away to some shooting in downtown Gotham with no backup or support—sent to his death bed. And now you stare at the crime scene, frozen in shock, watching the medics drag his lifeless body away from you.

He was supposed to be here—Batman was supposed to be here—to save his life. But it was too late.

And Bruce—he lets the guilt of your father's death consume him. Your father was his friend, and he couldn't save him. He should have been there. He should have stopped it. But he was too late.

Your pain, your anger, your grief—it lingers, haunting him like a ghost he can never outrun. If only he had been a second earlier. If only he had been there.

Now, he isn’t sure how he can ever face you again.

[solivagantshenanigans]

Touch of Relief.

TBHK— Aoi Akane x GN! Reader

– He's comfortable to be himself around you, too comfortable. He always drags you to somewhere alone to be with you whenever he's stressed, though he knows you don't mind it.

(Might be OOC)

----------------------------------------------

"Can't get enough of me, huh?"

You chuckled. Opposed to the usual, Aoi-focused, stern and sarcastic vice president, he had dragged you to the student council room (again). His arms currently wrapped around your waist with his face shoved on your shoulder, hugging from behind.

"Shut up..." he muttered, too tired to respond with a better comeback. He kept on mumbling, however you didn't care enough to listen.

Days like these, he would always come to you whenever he's in a dampened mood; whether he's feeling tired, sad, angry, anything negative. Whether the reason he did was because of another rejection from Aoi, handling the president's torture, or stressed from all the workload.

He comes to you for comfort so many times that you jokingly asked him once if he had any feelings for you.

Though the moment your words came out and he heard it, he didn't really take the 'joke' that well...

You didn't really mind it, actually. Sure, it may be bothersome at times. But the fact a person like him only does this to you was not something you can brush off now. Especially knowing that he's the #1 loyal simp for his crush.

You liked the fact you're the only person who does this to him, suppose that's the summary.

... Sighing, you only stayed in your seat. Except the action was proven difficult do so because of the chair's stiff structure that didn't exactly help you relax, and you knew you'd eventually have to get up to avoid getting an ache on your ass. Sometimes, you always forget about the cons of being 'Akane's cuddlebear' before you actually deal with it.

Feeling your shuffling, Akane noticed the movement and started to move your legs. He holds you for a moment, oblivious of your widened eyes, before gently positioning you on his lap. Wrapping his arms around your form again and snuggling his face to your midsection.

You tensed up, shocked at his uncharacteristically bold move. But from his lack of movement, you decided to stay quiet about it and reach to play with his hair. His strands were soft on your fingertips, and as you continue to run your hand through his hair, Akane hums in delight at your touches. He sighs as he can feel the built-up tension releasing, his shoulders becoming slack, and he feels himself feeling more relaxed as the seconds go by. Too busy shoving his face on your figure, he wasn't aware of a pleased smile forming.

Tensing up again since you're getting a little ticklish from all his gestures- you roll your eyes at his clinginess, a slight concern growing along with uncomfort from the glasses he has placed on his head.

Without a thought, your fingers tangled themselves in his hair before pulling it gently to retrieve the glasses.

His head was yanked up slightly as a choked up groan escaped from his lips. His face lightly scrunch up- not from any pain- but from being taken aback. Ignoring his wincing, you took his frames by the middle and placed them on the table. Akane was about to ask you why the hell did you do that before staring at the square frames‐ the words disappearing as he gave you a halfhearted glare .

"You could've just told me to take them off." He certainly didn't like having his hair pulled.

Huffing, you smiled smugly at his reaction, "Don't be a baby. You should've removed it earlier."

Reaching to the pockets of your clothing, you took out your phone and turned it on. Planning to ignore him for the remaining time he cuddles with you, you missed the way his eyebrows furrowed.

With a sigh, he begrudgingly accepted not having your attention as he returns to hugging you. The act of embracing you, with each other's figured close like this was soothing. It wasn't even anything intimate‐ just the quiet company of yours was already enough to shoo his worries away. It's like you always know what to do to get him to be eased, regardless if you did it on purpose or not.

With your warmth against his own, he was only focused on the feeling as he breathed in your faimilar scent that he had gotten used to.

A faint pink tint of blush coloured his cheeks. The fact that no one seems to be barging in or interrupting seems to only add to the serene moment that includes only you two, despite being in school grounds.

A sigh escaped past his lips, this time it was louder and you can tell he's more than happy to be in this moment. The repeated drooping of his eyes is getting more frequent- and he resists the incoming feeling of drowsiness to avoid accidentally falling asleep.

...this feels nice...

Time had passed. You didn't know how long though, but you can guess it was a couple of minutes.

Out of curiosity, you checked the time on your phone. With just one glance, your face turned into a look of grimace. The clock was nearing, and you needed to go home 'less your parents get mad at you for being late.

Without warning, you removed his arms around you and get off his lap with ease. Effectively waking up Akane to the fullest, blinking in a micture of confusion and dissapointment.

Akane gives you a look. If you were to describe the expression he's doing, it was something akin to a cat after they had their headpats withdrawn from them. He asks you first before you can speak. "What are you doing?"

Retrieving your school bag from the table, you looked at him with an indifferent gaze. "I need to go now. My parents need me to patroll the house while they attend a birthday party of one of my cousins..." You shrugged, you didn't even know about that relative's existence until yesterday. Akane was silent at your response, and you couldn't pinpoint what it is that he's feeling right now.

He pursued his lips, fixing his sitting position and clearing his throat. He pretends to be nonchalant, ignoring the disappointment rising in his chest at the fact you're leaving so soon. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

It's funny how he's acting professional around you yet acts so clingy in private. You only nodded at his words, "Yeah, good luck on your paperwork, Aoi-san."

Your use of his last name didn't sit right with him.

"You can call me Akane-kun, it's fine." Averting his gaze, his eyes land on the papers sprawled on the table. The activities that he should've been doing instead of cuddling you like a bear. But if he had a say in his defense- he needed it.

Blinking in suprise, your eyes widen slightly before a corner of your mouth twitches up. You raise your eyebrow in a mix of interest and amusement, watching as he analyzes the papers. "Huh."

Akane didn't hear you, so you shrugged with acceptance and opened the door. Before leaving, you turn to face him, giving him a lazy wave and a lopsided smile. "See ya tomorrow."

His eyes raced up, Akane wasn't able to reciprocate the gesture since you were already out of the door. With no one but him and the load of work in the student council room, he slumps on his chair with a low sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation.

Not to you, but to himself.

"..."

A faint blush decorates his face when thinking about earlier. He grumbles a few incoherent things, "What am I even doing?"

-----------

If you think this is very OOC for him (and tbh its understandable) I do believe theres a possibility for him to act like that when given the right scenarios and events, and also depends on your personality ykno

Sorry if this IS really OOC I had a vision except when I actually wrote it I can see how people might not actually see him like this 😭

[lovessolace]

GUYS

He's so insane for this

[dolladooley]

there was you | chase davenport

cw: spike

a/n: first time writing fr for this blog ! it was fun and i hope u enjoy :) this takes place in season two. gif credit goes to me 💯

-

chase was never the most... socially adept kid. he wasn't objectively cool, popular, or even likable. he was the odd kid. the nerdy one. even before he was allowed out of the lab, there was a clear and noticeable difference between how adam and bree behaved and how he did.

it had its consequences.

too many people had pushed his buttons, one of them being his very own brother, and he snapped. before he could process it, spike had come out to play.

it didn't take long for spike to start wreaking his havoc. cafeteria tables were flipped, the jocks were (once again, for some reason) covered in pudding. students were shouting both instigations and admissions of fear.

you could hear the commotion from the floor above. curious, you slowly wandered down the stairs, immediately taking notice of the panicked silhouettes beyond the cafeteria door's blurred glass. you looked around awkwardly as if anyone else was in the area before you continued your adventure towards the noise, gripping the handrails. and just as you were slowly reaching out to the cafeteria door open, it flung open and you were pushed back. laid out flat on the floor, you rubbed the back of your head and looked up, and the sight you were met with was not at all what you were expecting.

chase.

as if he didn't see or feel you, he aggressively walked toward a locker and ripped the door off its hinges. you squinted at him before you were startled by him throwing the blue metal on the ground. it slid beside you with a loud clang as he turned back to the cafeteria.

"who wants to join that pathetic piece of metal?!"

oh.

of course that wasn't chase. you knew better. you remember learning about this side of him.

the bionic side, that is.

how could you forget it? when you saw him nearly wax the floors with his own body at the sound of the school bell, you couldn't just turn a blind eye. no way. that's when leo just told you everything. he had new bionic siblings. you struggled to buy it, and thought maybe chase was just really autistic or something, but after they demonstrated with a feat of strength, speed, and a forcefield, you opened your mind a little more.

you'd heard of chase's hulk mode, but you never saw it first hand. you were unsure of what to do, but looking towards his siblings, it didn't seem like they had any ideas either. bree and adam were rather frantic. they never knew how to neutralize chase when his commando app was activated. leo tried to play hero and run at him with a chair but he got scared and dropped it, retreating to hide behind adam. you resisted an eye roll.

as for spike, he was on an absolute rampage. he felt great. but then he turned slightly to the right... and there was you.

in chase's eyes, you were a saving grace. an angel. yeah, he liked you. it was hard not to. fortunately for him, it wasn't obvious to you, only to everyone else.

he often thought about the day he met you. he freaked out at the bell, and you offered him your headphones for the day. he never realized people could be so kind. his whole life, he'd been belittled by his brother and his father, and even his sister would poke fun at him occasionally. but then there was you. you were there for him. you hadn't even known him, and you were there for him. the following days and weeks that ensued, you continued to be friendly, and thus continued to be a highlight of his life. deep down, in spike's subconscious, chase was there, and he knew you would be the one to release him from his mental prison.

he was so busy throwing stuff, he didn't notice when you started barreling toward him.

"chase?!" you stood up, running towards him and pulling him aside with all the strength you could muster. "chase! calm down, man-- breathe!"

he snarled at you, and you stepped back cautiously with an glint of fear in your eye.

he huffed.

commando app disengaged.

"...[name]?"

"yeah! yeah, it's me. are you okay?"

he pondered on the question. looking at you, he could see concern had replaced the fear in your eyes.

and now that you were here, he felt fine.

"yeah... yeah, i'm okay."

[kalopses-sonderes]

“The Dance with Ash”

Pairing: Platonic! Father! Millennial Tree Cookie x Child! Gn! Reader

Featuring: Pure Vanilla, Wind Archer, Fire Spirit, and Dark Cacao if your squint

Part 1 “The Dance with Fire”

Word count: 1k and some change

Remember, this is STRICTLY platonic relationships with the reader. The reader is a child/minor the entire fic, they will never have a love interest, only father figures, sibling figures, and maybe a mother figure one day. Just needed to clarify for certain people.

A/n: I was reminded that I was supposed to make a part two to this fic I made a year ago, I’m here to deliver. Per usual, the custom here, Pure Vanilla and Millennial Tree are enemies in all platonic aus I do, its a habit at this point and literally what I’m know for on tumblr ;-;

It didn’t take long for Millennial Tree to arrive with Wind Archer in toe a day after they were asked to come to the palace. You were grounded to a room on the highest floor of the castle with guards standing outside it to make sure you don’t try and escape. You can’t leave the room, ever. Everything you needed was brought up to you. Their cloaks did little to no hiding from Pure Vanilla’s glaring eyes. Pure Vanilla skipped the pleasantries as he leaned forward on his throne, this was important. For a moment, they just looked at each other, daring to see who will talk first.

“They are close to figuring out who you both are, they have followed you around the kingdom numerous times. The fire has also invaded the area around Dark Cacao’s kingdom, he came to me about it and it seems we cannot ignore this situation anymore.” Pure Vanilla states, his grip tightening on his staff, his blue and yellow eyes staring daggers into the two cookies who stood before him steps below his throne. “Fire Spirit knows you’re still alive, Dark Cacao’s kingdom is now at risk, so is mine..” There was no warmth in his voice, his poker face hiding any inkling of emotion he feels on the current matters at hand.

“Is it so wrong for me to come back for my child? They deserve to know the truth, they are old enough to understand, Pure Vanilla. I will handle Fire Spirit how I see fit. I’ve spent the last few years recovering sand making myself better for the war that will inevitably come.” Millennial Tree retorts. He slid the hood off his horns and head. He looked no different than before: long brownish-green hair, horns in perfect condition, and not a single eyelash out of place.

“I refuse to give them to you. You both barely escaped Fire Spirit the first time, what makes you so sure you can do it again? They barely made it out alive, I can’t let them fight a battle that doesn’t involve them. They will be happier here than on the run with you.” Pure Vanilla stood from his throne, turning away from the cookies. “Maybe, just maybe I’ll let you see them if you can fix this mess.”

“You.. You bastard! I asked you to take care of and protect them in my absence, knowing I’d be back for them, and this is what you do once I return?!”Millennial tree, usually the stoic and calm cookie was becoming more agitated at Pure Vanilla and his actions towards his child’s safety and well being.

“I am protecting them, I’m protecting them from you.” Pure Vanilla walked away from the cookies deeper into the castle, leaving them alone with their own thoughts.

“We’re leaving, Wind Archer.. I will get my child back one way or another.”

There was a knock on your door before it was pushed open, revealing Pure Vanilla with his usual calm smile. You were by your window, sitting in the plush couch, looking out at the kingdom below, refusing to even talk to the cookie that just walked into your room. “Still refusing to talk to me?” He said, taking a seat next to you. “I’m doing this for your safety, you know that right? I’m only trying to protect you from the dangers of the world that lurk outside the castle walls.”

“Was that my dad you were talking to?” You said, not even looking at Pure Vanilla but the accusatory tone was loud and clear. “Don’t answer that, I saw them walk out the gates with their hoods down before they lifted them.. Why are you not letting me talk to him?”

“It’s not what you think-“

“Then what could it be? You have hid me away for years and now my father is back you keep me from him!?” You continue, all the built of emotions pouring out.

They both sit in a long silence, the tension so thick they could choke on it. Pure Vanillas face displayed no emotion which made you feel even more upset, not even an ounce of regret for what he did to you. Pure vanilla sighed once more before speaking. “Unfortunately you still don’t understand my point of view and how I’m doing what’s best for everyone even if you don’t like it. Maybe you need to stay in your room longer.” he turned and walked out your room, closing the door behind him. After a few seconds the click of the lock captures your attention. You run up to the door and began pulling on the doorknob which doesn’t budge, your free hand banging on the wood full of intricate designs.

“Pure Vanilla let me out of here!”

“Millennial tree, where are we going?” Wind Archer breaks the silence as he walks behind Millennial Tree, the grass and flowers crunching beneath their feet.

The two cookies were walking through the maze like thick forest. The trees blocked most the sunlight from touching the grass, leaving an eerie feeling to anyone that strolls there. There was nothing in sight besides trees, branches, grass, and the few flowers that managed to grow in the dimly lit forest. Millennial Tree walked with haste and pure anger, not that he’d ever say those feelings out loud. There was anger in each step he took, if you looked close enough you could see small pieces of grass rotting and withering under his feet.

“I have a plan.. Did you see them when you scoped out the castle when we first got here?” Millennial Tree continues to walk, his steps becoming a bit more aggressive.

“Yes, they were in a room high in the castle.” Wind Archer replied, he fixed his cloaked to hide him and his bow once more, knowing what he was about to do.

Millennial tree stops walking completely, he looks over his shoulder at Wind Archer. “When night fall comes, get them, bring them to the home in the deep part of the forest, I have business to take care of with Fire Spirit. I should be done soon. We can all live peacefully once I’m done..”

Millennial Tree was determined to get what he wants, at any cost.

A/n: now time to decided if I want to kill off Millennial tree or fire spirt >:)