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mintyys-blog · 1 day ago

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Hey Mintyy, can you do head cannon or little stories of family life with Mark and the mark variants. Like dealing with kids, the Marks dealing with the kids alone while reader does something or dealing with the kids wanting a pet and stuff like that thank you (What's your favorite show that you can rewatch over and over and not get tried of )

HEADCANONS | family life with the invincible variants

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: swearing

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK

It was supposed to be an easy Saturday.

You had kissed Mark goodbye at the door, patting his chest lovingly and whispering, “You’ll be fine. They’re just little kids. How bad could it be?” Mark smiled confidently. “Relax, Y/N. Go get your hair done, shop, do whatever you want. I got this.”

Five minutes after you left:

The toddler is crying because the TV remote isn’t working. The older kid is trying to “build a rocket” out of couch cushions. The baby? Crawled into the kitchen and got a handful of flour. Mark stands in the middle of the chaos, blinking slowly.

“…Okay,” he says aloud to nobody. “We’re improvising.”

He scoops up the baby first, bouncing them on his hip as he kicks the flour pile under the counter, hoping you won’t notice later. He finds the remote and heroically turns on their favorite cartoon. It buys him a solid ten minutes of peace.

Then comes the “Dad, can we get a dog??” Three pairs of big, pleading eyes. Mark rubs the back of his neck.

“You guys barely clean your rooms…” he argues half-heartedly. “But we’ll take care of it! We’ll feed it and walk it and love it forever!”

Mark sighs deeply, feeling himself crumble. He’s too soft for this.

Fast forward to when you get home:

There’s a tiny, shaggy dog curled up on the couch.

The kids are beaming and showing you its new collar (handmade with paper and stickers).

Mark sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“They uh… kinda convinced me,” he says with a guilty grin.

You cross your arms, pretending to glare, but your heart melts seeing them all together — the kids giggling, the dog wagging its tail, Mark sitting in the middle of it all looking completely domesticated.

Later that night, you’re snuggled on the couch with Mark while the kids sleep upstairs. The dog snoozes at your feet.

“You’re too easy,” you tease, poking his side. He chuckles, kissing your forehead. “Yeah…but it’s worth it. Look at them, Y/N. They’re happy.” And honestly? You wouldn’t trade this messy, chaotic, perfect little family for anything.

SINISTER MARK

Mark was not the “typical” family man. He didn’t soften easily. Didn’t smile much. Didn’t coo or fawn over anyone.

But he loved his family. Fiercely. In the only way he knew how. When you had to leave for a few hours, handing him the kids like precious, wiggling bombs, he gave you that deadpan look. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled, adjusting one kid under his arm and dragging the other by the hoodie.

Five minutes after you leave:

The toddler demands cookies for breakfast.

The older one challenges him to a wrestling match.

The baby starts chewing on the TV remote.

Mark watches all of this with a twitch of his jaw, contemplating if he could just… tie them to the couch (kidding… mostly).

“Alright, tiny terrorists,” he mutters, scooping them up. “New rule: whoever sits down and shuts up the longest wins a prize.”

It almost works. For about two minutes. Then comes the “Dad, can we get a dog?” Mark’s whole face twists in a look of absolute disgust. “A dog? Hell no. You already pee on the floor sometimes—why would I add another thing that does?”

“But pleeeease! Dad, pleeeease!” The toddler tugs on his pants, sniffling dramatically.

Mark grits his teeth. It’s not the begging that gets him. It’s the thought of them looking at someone else — even a dog — the way they look at him. “…One dog,” he growls eventually. “But you’re all cleaning up after it. I’m not touching dog shit.”

When you come home:

There’s a huge, mean-looking mutt laying across the floor.

The kids are ecstatic.

The dog? Growls at Mark and only obeys the kids and you.

Mark crosses his arms, staring the dog down. “I’m watching you,” he mutters at the animal. The dog bares its teeth in something that almost looks like a grin.

Later that night, when the house is quiet, you find Mark in bed, one kid drooling on his chest, another curled at his side. Even the dog is snoozing at his feet. You slip under the covers beside him and murmur, “You did good, y’know.”

Mark grunts low in his throat but his hand slides over yours under the blankets, squeezing gently. He doesn’t say I love you out loud. He shows it — in every grudging sacrifice, every grumble, every protectively fierce glance at the people who mattered more to him than anything else.

MOHAWK MARK

Mark was the kind of dad who somehow made parenting look cool — but barely functional.

He wasn’t exactly “dad of the year” material — he cursed too much, roughhoused a little too hard, and definitely let the kids stay up past bedtime if it meant getting a few more minutes of playing video games or watching action movies together.

When you had to leave him alone with the kids for the day, he gave you a lazy, cocky grin, tossing one of the kids over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Yeah, yeah, babe, go do your thing. I got this,” he said, barely paying attention as the kids immediately started climbing the furniture behind him.

What actually happened while you were gone was complete fucking chaos. The living room was wrecked within thirty minutes — couch cushions everywhere, drawings all over the walls in crayon (and Sharpie — because of course Mark handed them the worst possible tool). One of the kids tried to make a “badass” fort and ended up knocking over a lamp. Mark didn’t even get mad; he laughed and told them to “make it cooler next time.”

He taught the toddler to say “badass” and gave the older kid a real fucking mohawk because “fuck it, why not?” There was a suspicious burn mark on the carpet from when he let them play “science experiments” in the kitchen, but he figured if it wasn’t actively on fire, it wasn’t a problem.

When the kids asked, “Dad, can we get a pet? Like… a shark?” Mark didn’t even blink.

“A shark? Hell yeah, that’s metal as fuck,” he said immediately, already pulling out his phone and looking up some shady black-market pet websites.

You came home hours later to find the house looking like a war zone. One kid was wearing sunglasses indoors, shirtless, and calling himself “Lil’ Mohawk.” Another one was skateboarding inside the kitchen. The baby was somehow naked except for a cape made out of a towel. And there was Mark — passed the fuck out on the couch, a half-empty juice box still dangling from his hand like it was a goddamn beer.

You snatched the juice box away, glaring at him, and he cracked one lazy eye open to smirk up at you.

“Relax, babe,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Everyone’s alive. That’s a fuckin’ win.”

Later that night, after you finally put the kids to bed (threatening violence if necessary), you found him sprawled in bed, the kids tangled up all around him like puppies. He looked up at you, reached out one arm, and dragged you down onto the mattress with a tired grunt.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you whispered against his chest.

He chuckled against your hair, voice lazy and warm. “Yeah, but you married me, babe,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You, me… and the little badass monsters we made. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

PRISONER MARK

Mark never thought he’d have a family. Not after everything he’d been through — the fights, the chains, the walls he had to break down just to survive. He wasn’t made for softness. Wasn’t made for smiling.

But somehow, you convinced him otherwise.

Now he had little versions of himself running around the house, making noise, making messes, and making his heart ache in a way no scar or broken bone ever had.

When you left him alone with the kids for the day, Mark honestly panicked inside — but he didn’t let it show. He just gave you a tired nod and a low grunt of “I got ‘em.” He kissed your forehead, like you might not come back if he didn’t, and watched you leave with a tight chest. The second the door shut, the kids were on him — climbing him like a jungle gym.

He let them. Even when they traced the faded scars across his arms and chest with their tiny fingers. He just sat there, strong and silent, letting them explore him like he was some ancient war hero.

When they begged for a pet, Mark folded almost immediately. “Fuck… you want a dog?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “No, a big dog!” one kid insisted, arms stretched wide.

Mark chuckled low in his throat — a rough, broken sound that still somehow sounded like love. “Yeah? A big motherfucker, huh?” He ruffled their hair. “Alright. Big dog it is.”

He wasn’t good at games. He wasn’t good at tea parties or board games or puzzles. He was good at sitting there while they curled up against him. Good at carrying all three of them at once when they got too tired to walk. Good at telling stories — dark, thrilling stories about planets and battles and monsters who lost because they didn’t love enough.

When you came home, the living room looked like it had been hit by a slow, clumsy storm. Blankets and stuffed animals everywhere. The kids were knocked out cold in a pile on the couch, limbs tangled together.

And Mark… Mark was sitting on the floor in front of them, back against the couch, head tilted back, arms limp at his sides. Eyes half-open but soft, so fucking soft.

You crouched down in front of him, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. “You look like you got your ass kicked,” you whispered.

Mark cracked a tired, crooked smile. “Fuckin’ did,” he rasped. “Worst beatin’ of my life.”

You kissed him then — slow, grateful — and he sighed into your mouth like he could finally breathe again.

Later that night, when he carried the kids to bed one by one, he lingered a little too long at each bedside, brushing their hair back, making sure they were breathing, making sure they were real. He wasn’t made for this life. But fuck it. He’d fight a thousand more wars if it meant keeping it.

OMNI MARK

Mark didn’t want a family at first. It was a distraction. A vulnerability. He had convinced himself of that for years. But you… you were the first thing that ever made him reconsider.

Now here he was, standing in the middle of a too-bright kitchen while your children screamed and fought and laughed, spilling cereal across the tile floors like tiny tornadoes. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, expression stoic as ever, like a general surveying a chaotic battlefield.

“Handle it, Mark,” you teased him sweetly as you grabbed your jacket, keys jingling. “You’re a Viltrumite. You can survive a few hours.”

He only grunted — a sound that might’ve been agreement, or just annoyance — and let you kiss his cheek. The door shut behind you, and it was just him and them.

He didn’t speak for a while. Just watched. Analyzing. Calculating. When one of the kids threw a whole cup of orange juice across the room, he caught it — casually, like he wasn’t even trying — and set it neatly back on the counter.

“Sit,” he commanded, voice even and sharp. They actually listened. Mark didn’t “play.” He didn’t make silly faces or build forts out of couch cushions. But he did teach.

He taught them discipline without raising a hand. He taught them to fly — hovering an inch off the ground while they giggled madly. He taught them strategy through games of chess and tactical puzzles. He corrected them the first time they whined or begged. He hated whining. “No,” he’d say coolly, staring them down with those hard eyes. “You earn things. You do not beg for them.”

And yet… When they clumsily clung to his leg, calling him “Daddy” or babbling nonsense about their day, something ugly and painful twisted deep in his chest. He’d clear his throat, tense his jaw — but he never shoved them away.

Instead, he allowed it. Quietly. Sometimes his hand would drift to pat their heads, stiff and awkward like he wasn’t sure he was doing it right.

When you came home, you found him sitting at the dining room table, both kids asleep — one in his lap, the other curled against his side.

You approached carefully, smiling. “I thought you didn’t want any distractions,” you whispered.

Mark met your eyes — cold, calculating, unreadable — and yet… His hand didn’t stop stroking the child’s hair. His arms didn’t loosen around the tiny body resting against him. “I adapted,” he said simply. “For them. For you.”

Later, as you tucked the kids into bed, he watched from the doorway. Silent. Hands behind his back, posture stiff.

And when you turned the lights off, sliding your arms around his waist, he whispered low enough that only you could hear: “If anyone ever tries to take this from me… I’ll destroy everything.”

VILTRUMITE MARK

Mark had always known he wanted a family with you. From the moment he claimed you as his, the idea of building something — someone — that was both him and you was burned into his very core.

So when you finally gave him children, he didn’t just step into the role of a father — he charged into it.

You left him alone with them once — just once — because you had to run to the market for food. He had stood at the doorway, arms crossed, as you kissed his cheek and warned: “Don’t roughhouse too much. They’re still little.” The second the door shut? It was game time.

“Alright, soldiers,” Mark growled playfully, crouching down to the twins’ level. His eyes gleamed — proud, wild, thrilled. “Today we train. If you can land a hit on me, you win.”

The twins — one boy, one girl — squealed with laughter and immediately charged at him. They were tiny fists and flying feet and untamed, clumsy strength. He pretended to stumble back dramatically when the little boy punched his shin, grunting like it actually hurt. “You’ve gotten stronger,” he teased.

When your daughter bit his wrist like a feral animal, he actually laughed, the sound loud and rough in his chest.

“Good instincts,” he said, ruffling her hair with one massive hand.

They spent the next hour “fighting” — mostly Mark letting himself be tackled and pinned and climbed like a jungle gym while pretending he was losing. Every time he looked at them, something ugly and possessive lit up behind his eyes. His children. His legacy.

By the time you came back, you found your living room completely destroyed — furniture overturned, blankets and pillows scattered like a battlefield. The twins were passed out cold, one sprawled across Mark’s chest, the other drooling on his stomach. He sat there cross-legged, arms draped lazily around them, a little bruised but smiling.

You stood in the doorway, hands on your hips. “Mark,” you said sternly.

He looked up at you, unbothered. “What?”

“You were supposed to watch them. Not turn the house into a warzone.”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged, leaning back. “Stronger, too.”

You sighed, stepping over the carnage to kiss his forehead. “You’re lucky they love you.”

Mark caught your hand before you could pull away, looking up at you with a rare, completely open expression. “No,” he murmured, voice rough. “I’m lucky you love me.”

Later, when you tucked the kids in bed, Mark hovered at the door — arms crossed, brow furrowed. “One day,” he muttered under his breath, “they’ll have to fight for real.”

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised. “Not for a long time,” you said gently.

Mark didn’t argue. But in his mind, he was already preparing them for the war he knew would come. And he would be damned if anything ever took them — or you — away from him.

FULL MASK MARK

Mark had always been a man of control, methodical in everything he did. But when it came to his children, he found himself in a strange position — one he hadn’t anticipated. Despite his imposing presence, the mask he wore, the intensity of his demeanor, there was something undeniable that shifted when he held his twins in his arms. Something different when he looked at them, a new kind of responsibility, one he could never turn away from.

You’d stepped out for a few hours, trusting Mark to manage the kids. At first, he stood in the doorway, silently observing the two little ones who had a new, strange energy that he wasn’t entirely used to. He’d spent years handling life-or-death situations, fighting across galaxies, but this — raising children — was different.

They were at the age where they explored everything with curious hands and loud voices. His son, a little boy who had inherited his stubborn streak, was already trying to climb up the furniture as if it were a battlefield. His daughter, quiet and observant, clung to her stuffed animal while watching her brother with a calculating gaze.

The living room was a mess. Toys scattered, blankets piled up from their game of “fort,” and the smell of something burning from the kitchen. Mark hadn’t expected to make breakfast or lunch for them, but when he turned around to see the microwave had been left on, he sighed. Great. He took the plate of charred pancakes and tossed it into the trash, realizing that maybe he wasn’t cut out for domestic work quite yet. But there was no option to back out.

His son climbed higher on the couch, and Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“Get down before you break something,” he commanded, his voice low and firm, but not angry. The boy froze, his foot still in mid-air. He had no fear of Mark, which irritated and pleased him all at once. He wasn’t sure how to react, but he definitely wasn’t about to let his son destroy the place either.

The boy dropped down with a soft grunt. “I want to jump on the couch.”

Mark glanced at him, then at the empty space in the living room. He didn’t get it. Why did they feel the need to do things that weren’t necessary? His instincts said to keep them in line, to maintain discipline. But… something stopped him. He didn’t know how to explain it, but a part of him wanted them to be happy. To feel safe. He wasn’t quite sure how to do it, but for the first time, he wanted to try.

You called just as he was about to stand, and he answered in his usual deadpan way, though there was a trace of exhaustion in his voice.

“They’re fine,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “I’ve kept them from setting the house on fire.”

You chuckled on the other end, relieved. “Good. What about lunch?”

Mark glanced at the kids, who were already eyeing the empty plates on the table.

“I’ll… feed them,” he grumbled, clearly less than thrilled by the prospect. But he did it anyway. He took out the ingredients for sandwiches and worked quickly, glancing back to make sure the kids weren’t running riot again. The boy grabbed a plastic knife and tried to “cut” the bread, but the blade wasn’t sharp enough.

Mark moved over to the boy and gently took the knife from his hand, carefully guiding his movements. The boy looked up at him, curiosity lighting up his eyes, then nodded with a little, “Thanks, Daddy.”

The word Daddy hit Mark harder than expected. It made something in his chest tighten, but he couldn’t quite explain why. His eyes soften.

“Sit down,” he ordered, his voice softer than it had been moments ago.

The twins sat at the table, waiting for their food. Mark finished assembling the sandwiches and placed them in front of the kids. The boy picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite, spilling crumbs everywhere. The girl, ever so composed, took her time, nibbling at the corner of her sandwich, occasionally looking up at Mark. “You’re a good father,” you said when you called back to check in, as if reading his mind.

Mark didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t need to. Instead, he looked over at the twins, then back at the phone. “I’m doing what I have to.”

He didn’t need praise. He didn’t need acknowledgment. But there was a part of him that felt something stir inside him — a strange pride he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just a soldier, an enforcer of rules. He was a father. And this was something he would protect with everything in him.

Later, when you came home, you found Mark sitting in the same spot, with the twins sprawled across the couch, their tiny hands gripping the cushions. Mark was sitting still, his arms resting on his knees, but his gaze was soft. He wasn’t the same Mark he was before. The man who once cared only about power, control, and his missions — now, he was a father. The twins had a way of softening him, grounding him. It didn’t mean he’d let his guard down completely, but for them? For his family?

Mark would go to the ends of the Earth and back. Even if it meant figuring out how to deal with tantrums, snacks, and accidental burns from the microwave. But in the end, he knew one thing for sure: he was going to do whatever it took to make sure they were safe. And loved. Even if he had to learn how to be soft.

#mark grayson x reader #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #sinister mark x reader #mohawk mark x reader #omni mark x you #prisoner mark x you #omni mark x reader #viltrum mark x reader #viltrumite mark x reader #viltrumite mark #fluff #invincible variants x reader #invincible variants

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sirxlla · 2 days ago

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OKAY IVE SEEN SOO MANY BATBOYS SHOWING READER THEIR SCARS

BUT

Reader showing batboys their scars!!!

Could be from anything preferably past abuse something

Showing Him Your Scars (Batboys)

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

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Prompt: above ^^^^

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Dick: Working together on the force for so long allowed the both of you to get close. Your doctor recommended that you have someone take care of you and the Captian told Dick it's his job to make sure I won't do anything stupid or try to heal from a stab wound you got in your arm, it's nothing bad, it'll heal in time but its making doing just about anything a pain in the ass including changing.

"I can help, Y/N. Let me. It's got to be painful. Let me help you change...Look, I'll even close my eyes if you want." Dick closed his eyes to show you he was honest, even covering his eyes like a kid which made you smile.

"No, it's fine, Dick. I'd rather you have your eyes open to do this. The last thing we need to do is irritate this wound any further." You said before Dick uncovered and opened his eyes and gently guided your shirt off making sure to be incredibly careful of the wound on your arm. His eyes scanned all the other scars on your torso; he's surprised at the sheer amount of scars you have.

"I think you might look more badass than I do." He gently traces a scar on your back. "I remember almost all of these, I didn't know your wounds were this bad."

"Yeah, but you know...sometimes you can't stop just for the sake of it; bad guys need to get caught."

"Yeah but not at the expense of you. You're way too valuable to keep getting hurt"

"Yeah? To who?" You asked with a bit of anger; you felt like you were always taking care of everyone else, but no one took care of you, and Dick answered you with one single word that meant everything.

"Me." His blue eyes gazed into with nothing but pure sincerity.

Jason: Jason was always nervous about anyone seeing any of his scars; once you happened to see them, he froze in nervousness. Would you think he's weird or ugly because of the scars that litter his skin? As you noticed the worry in his eyes, you very slowly brought your eyes to meet his as you slipped your shirt off.

Jason's eyes widen as he sees the scar that runs down the middle of your chest and disappears between your breasts.

"I had open heart surgery when I was a teenager. I used to hate it, but without it, I'd be dead or a much different person. Scars tell a story, a path to now." You said as you reached your hand out to touch his autopsy scar; it's so similar to yours but different. Just as beautiful.

"Can- Can I?" Jason asks as he reaches his hand out slowly to the scar on your chest. "It- It's beautiful."

"Well, if mine are, then yours have to be too. They're pretty badass." You smiled and showed him a few smaller ones that you'd gotten for dumb stuff but the way you embraced them made him feel so much better about his. You gently kissed the scar on his chest and in time he'd see his scars the same way you see yours.

Bruce: Anyone who's been around Bruce for any amount of time knows how many scars he had. Little did he know you had plenty of your own, so one day, as you were over at his place, you had asked him about scars and what he'd think if you had some.

"I suppose that depends on the scars, Love." His blue eyes gazed into yours with a bit of worry. "You have scars?"

"Don't judge okay?" You asked as you lifted your shirt and showed him the scars on your back; they looked like burns. Bruce's fingers grazed over what appeared at a closer glance to be cigarette burns.

"I wanted to show you before you found out when I was changing or sex or something...My dad he- he used to put them out on my back when I was a kid. Every guy I've ever been with just kinda laughs a bit."

"They laughed? Darling, this isn't something to laugh at; I mean, if you want to, then by all means, that's fine, but no one else should laugh at your pain." His fingers graze over them gently; he doesn't know what to say, so he says the first thing on his mind. "They don't distract from your beauty for even a second."

Your shoulders fall as you relax against his touch; he isn't blaming you or laughing or making you think you're ugly for the ugly actions of your father. He's amazing, he's reassuring and he's one of the best men you've ever known.

Tim: "What's the scar above your lip?" He asks you randomly as he rests his head in your lap, looking up at you.

"What sca- Oh! Um...It's super stupid, but when I was a kid, I liked to dance on the coffee table at my Grandmas and I busted my lip open...Grandma said I barely cried, and the next day, I was back to dancing on the table." You laughed as the memories flashed behind your eyelids.

"You never told me you were such a good dancer." Tim smiled back as he teased you.

"No, I was awful." You pulled down your shirt a little to show off the scar on your collarbone. "This was from ballet class, I did too many spins and smacked into the mirror. There's so many all over, just my clumsiness or dancing or both."

"So no dancing for you, I suppose. Either that or I get some really thick shoes, and then you can just stand on my feet, and I can do all the work." Tim teased a little as his eyes scanned your scars slowly as he took a moment to imagine the things you told him.

Damian: Training in the League isn't for the weak; real swords are used and real wounds are created. Damian knew you probably had several scars but you'd never showed them to him. He was curious and wondered if the number he had might be similar to yours.

"Can I see your scars?" He asked while the both of you were spending quality time reading together.

"My scars?"

"Yeah, I just wanna see if we have about the same amount."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I guess?" You pulled your long-sleeve shirt off as he pulled his off. Damian's eyes widened as he noticed how you had at least triple the scars that he did from training.

"They didn't put Lazarus water on the deep ones?" They had usually put Lazarus water on Damian's wounds if they were deep enough, he thought that they did that for everyone.

"Only if it hits bone." You corrected him, they never wasted a drop of Lazarus unless it was life for death for the regular soldiers in the League.

"Oh." Damian was surprised but also not. His grandfather wouldn't have wanted the Demon's Head to be littered with scars; he needed to look like he was better than them all. Damian runs his fingers over your scars on your back and he made himself a promise as well as you. "Things are gonna be different when I'm leading the League."

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

#batboys #batboys x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #dick grayson x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red hood #batman x reader #batfamily #batman #batfam #dick grayson #red robin x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne #tim

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luffydotcom · 1 day ago

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Ok I might die requesting this /j (it's just embarrassing.

But can you write Luffy x reader but they both like each other and they're oblivious to it. Reader also has something that's very special to her like a weapon that the crew knows to leave alone but one day Luffy asks for it and she gives it to him like she hasn't fought someone over it.

(is it weird to request something that has been rejected by somebody else?😔)

anon, you don't have to ever worry about something being embarrassing on my account!! and it's not weird at all!! i did what i could with this, i hope it's enough!! and sorry for the wait, i was on vacation and only just got back haha.. OK ENOUGH YAP FROM ME

safe in your hands (luffy x reader)

pairings: luffy x gn! reader warnings: none! word count: 656

you and luffy had been stepping around each other for what felt like months now, utterly oblivious to your feelings for each other. despite knowing each other very well, you always failed to notice the other's true feelings.

despite your love and trust for the crew, the love and trust for luffy you kept was much more. you would feel safe trusting him with your life, but also afraid to trust him with your feelings. would he be happy? upset? surprised? annoyed?

luffy is just so damn unpredictable sometimes. the fact that you can't anticipate how he would react makes you want to hide your feelings all the more.

sitting against the mast of the sunny, you turn around your dagger in your right hand, your eyes squinting as you observe the various scratches it's collected over the years. you've had it for a very long time, years before you even joined the strawhats.

once usopp found it on your bedside whilst looking for you and he was about to touch it, before you entered the room and sharply snapped at him to keep his hands away. seeing his alarmed expression, you hastily apologised and explained that you never let anyone touch it because of how precious it is to you. it's saved you hundreds of times, and you can't bear to ever lose it.

as your fingers trace over the blade gently, you feel a thump in front of you as luffy sits down to join you.

"why do you always carry that around? we're not in battle right now," he asks, leaning forward towards you.

"just because i do," you say, your eyes attempting to drift away after seeing how close he is to you.

luffy nods, not understanding why you're speaking so cryptically, but finding it strangely endearing. he can't help smiling as he looks at your features as you're concentrating on what you're holding. then he looks at the dagger itself, noticing all the different marks covering the blade.

he remembers when you first joined the crew, you would always be double and triple checking if it was on you in case it was lost. and it certainly wasn't as scarred as it is now. have you really been through that many battles together with him?

"hey, can i hold it?" luffy's eyes shine at you as he looks up from your weapon.

you blink in surprise, taken slightly off-balance by the sudden question. but then you do something you never imagined you would do - you simply hand it to him without a word.

luffy takes it in his hands as if it's glass. your mouth drops slightly - you've never seen him be this careful with anything before. as you're about to comment, you hear a nearby voice.

"LUFFY!! that's y/n's, you know you shouldn't be touching that!" nami folds her arms as she crosses over to luffy to take the dagger, until she notices you. "y/n? didn't you see that luffy has your dagger?"

"yeah i know... i actually gave it to him." you breathe out, as nami's expression turns to surprise.

"really? are you sure you trust luffy with something as important as that?" she cocks an eyebrow.

you both turn around as you hear the galley door opening. usopp enters, his eyes falling to what luffy's holding as he sits opposite you. "hey, luffy! you can't -" before he can finish his sentence, you wave your hand to let him know it's OK.

"seriously? it's so cool-looking, but not even i was allowed to touch it..." usopp sulks as he stands over luffy. "luffy, you're lucky y/n trusts you that much."

"why not? it's not like i'd ever break something that important!" luffy says as he hands your weapon back to you carefully. usopp and nami share suspicious glances.

"it's alright, i believe you," you nudge luffy playfully as you slide your dagger back into its scabbard.

#one piece #luffy #x reader #fanfic #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy #one piece x reader

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writingpandagoth · 2 days ago

Note

hi! I want to say that I really really love your job and I'm reading almost all of them!! I had an idea for request and I was wondering if you could do it.

So, this is in the marauders era, and Y/N potter is James' little sister and when she arrives to hogwarts she literally loved Severus from the 1st sec, and eventually they start what could be a "relationship" but james find them. While they were """busy""""

I have been looking for something like this but i just dont find anything 😭😭😭😭😭

I started writing it. Changed my plans for the storyline in the middle of it and thats what came from it😂

I hope you like it!❤️

In The Shadows of Us

You don't even make it to the Gryffindor table before James has you in a headlock.

“Gryffindor! I knew it!” he crows, practically dragging you off your feet. “Brilliant choice. Inspired, really. I mean, it’s in the blood.”

“Gerroff, James,” you hiss, elbowing him hard enough that he finally lets go, laughing.

Sirius Black whistles down the table. “Another Potter. We’re doomed.”

You roll your eyes, fixing your robes as you drop into the only open seat. It’s only your first night, and already, you’re ‘Potter’s little sister’ to everyone who matters. You pick up your goblet and drink deeply, wishing you could vanish into it.

Thats when you spot him.

Not because he’s loud or smiling or trying to be seen but because he isn’t.

He sits alone at the Slytherin table, shoulders hunched, dark hair hanging like a curtain around his face.

His plate is mostly untouched. His head is bowed. He looks...out of place.

Like he’s already figured out the world has no interest in making space for him.

James is beside you, laughing loudly with Sirius about something you barely hear.

You’re supposed to be celebrating.

You’re supposed to be excited.

Instead, your eyes keep flickering back to the boy in green and silver.

You don’t even know his name yet.

But your heart tugs strangely in your chest—sharp, unexpected.

Like you’ve just stumbled onto something you’re not meant to touch, but can’t look away from.

In your first Potions class, you learn his name.

Severus Snape.

He sits three rows down, ink-stained fingers moving quickly over parchment.

He’s good.

Brilliant, actually.

You notice how fast he jots down notes. How his brow furrows in concentration. How his mouth twists, almost smiling, when Slughorn praises him.

No one else notices.

They’re too busy snickering behind their hands, throwing paper at each other, whispering names you don’t like.

You find yourself defending him before you even realize it.

When Sirius makes a joke about greasy hair, you snap, "At least he’s paying attention."

James throws you a look—half confused, half amused.

You ignore it.

You don’t care.

Not when Severus looks up, just for a second, and you swear he smiles.

The first real moment happens in the library.

You drop your Charms textbook with a loud thud, wincing as Madam Pince glares from behind the desk.

Before you can bend to pick it up, someone’s already there.

Long, slender fingers brush the spine.

Severus Snape straightens, holding the book out to you without a word.

Up close, his face is sharper than you expected. Pale, serious, with eyes that seem to burn right through you.

"Thanks," you mumble, flustered.

He gives the smallest nod.

Almost like he’s not used to being thanked.

Almost like he’s not used to being seen.

You open your mouth—say something, anything— but he’s already gone, disappearing between the stacks.

Still, the warmth lingers in your chest long after he’s gone.

You find yourself looking for him after that.

In the corridors. In the library. At meals.

Sometimes you catch him staring too, quickly looking away when you notice.

Sometimes you imagine what it would be like to sit beside him instead of across the Hall.

Sometimes you wonder what he’d sound like laughing.

James teases you about daydreaming. Sirius makes faces behind your back. You let them.

You don’t tell them your daydreams have nothing to do with Gryffindor Quidditch victories or pranks on Slytherins.

You don’t tell them your heart races faster when you think about a boy with ink-stained hands and tired eyes.

You keep it quiet.

It's weeks later when you’re wandering back to Gryffindor Tower after a disastrous study session (you still can’t get that feather to bloody float properly) when you spot a sliver of candlelight spilling out from under the library doors.

Curious, you push them open.

There he is. Same table. Same hunched shoulders. Same deep focus.

You hesitate. This is stupid. You should go.

Instead, you slip inside and take the seat across from him.

He looks up slowly, suspicion flashing across his face.

“You’re James Potter’s sister,” he says.

“Unfortunately.”

Something flickers in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? You’re not sure.

“Shouldn’t you hate me?”

You shrug. “Maybe I should. But I don’t.”

He huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, then ducks his head, hiding it behind a curtain of hair.

You smile to yourself and crack open one of your books.

You don’t say another word for the next hour, but somehow, you leave feeling like something important just happened.

It becomes a pattern.

Unspoken meetings in the dead hours of night. Shared silences. Snatches of conversation about classes, spells, potions. His sharp wit makes you laugh. Your stubbornness makes him roll his eyes in fond irritation.

You keep it hidden from James, from Sirius, from everyone.

Not because it’s wrong. Because it’s yours.

Because you know no one else would understand

And that’s how it all began.

It’s been five years now since that night in the library. Since he looked at you like he didn’t know what to make of you, and you smiled anyway.

Five years since your little crush turned into love for him.

Five years of stolen moments. Quiet laughter. Shared secrets.

Five years of friendship no one knows about.

Not James. Not Sirius. Not Remus, even though you think he suspects.

Certainly not Lily, who’s been drifting further from Severus with every passing term.

But you—you’ve stayed. Even when he pulled away. Even when he said he didn’t deserve to have anyone.

The library is nearly empty, the candles burned down low to nubs, the sky outside ink-black.

You’re supposed to be studying.

Instead, you’re sitting too close to Severus, knees brushing under the table, pretending not to notice how he’s looking at you.

"You're not concentrating," he says, voice low and dry.

"Neither are you," you shoot back, trying for lightness but failing miserably.

His lips twitch—half a smirk, half something softer.

He leans in a little, close enough that you can smell the faint sharpness of potions clinging to his robes, the worn leather of old books.

You tilt your chin up without thinking.

The world shrinks to the space between your mouths—an inch, a breath, a heartbeat.

You could kiss him. Right now.

You want to.

He freezes, studying you like he’s memorizing your face, like he's terrified and desperate all at once.

For a second, it feels inevitable.

Then a floorboard creaks somewhere in the stacks.

He jerks back like you burned him, eyes darting to the door.

You sit there, heart hammering, lips tingling with a kiss that didn’t happen.

The moment slides between you, thick and heavy and undeniable.

Neither of you says a word.

You turn back to your books, pretending your hands aren’t shaking.

He does the same.

But it’s too late now.

You both know something's changed.

The next day, James corners you after lunch.

“You’ve been off lately,” he says, arms crossed. “Everything okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, James. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Sirius laughs. Remus doesn’t.

You feel their eyes on you long after you walk away.

Later you find yourself sitting with Severus in the old greenhouse, knees bumping under the low wooden bench, the only light coming from your shared wand resting on the windowsill.

The world outside is silent. The castle's asleep. But you’re wide awake.

You're arguing—again.

About something stupid. Some half-forgotten Potions theory from class.

"You’re wrong," you insist, poking him in the ribs.

He catches your hand easily, fingers wrapping around yours in a slow, deliberate movement.

You should pull back.

You don’t.

Instead, you stay like that—caught between stubbornness and something thicker, something heavier that you’ve both been pretending not to feel.

His thumb brushes across your knuckles absentmindedly.

It’s such a small thing.

But it makes your whole body go still.

You look up at him.

He’s already looking at you.

The argument dies in your throat.

All you can hear is the rush of your own pulse.

He leans in a fraction.

Enough to make your breath hitch. Enough that you could pretend it’s nothing if you wanted to.

You don’t want to.

Your free hand lifts instinctively—tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips.

He closes his eyes like he’s in pain.

When he opens them again, you see it—laid bare for the first time.

Want. Fear. Hope.

"You should stop me," he says, voice rough and uncertain.

You don’t move. You just whisper, "Don't stop."

And that’s it.

He closes the distance.

The kiss is nothing like you expected.

It’s clumsy. It’s too hard at first, teeth bumping awkwardly.

You both laugh, breathless and nervous.

Then he tilts his head, and you tilt yours, and suddenly— it's right.

His mouth moves against yours with a kind of desperation, as if he's been holding back for too long and doesn't know how to be gentle about it anymore.

You slide your hand into his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his other hand finding your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You kiss him back like you’re afraid you’ll never get the chance again.

When you finally pull apart, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours.

Neither of you speaks. There’s nothing to say.

The first kiss should have been enough.

It should have been a fluke—a mistake to laugh off, bury under awkward silences and mumbled excuses.

It should have ended there.

But it didn't.

Instead, it ignited something.

Something that had been smoldering between you for years, waiting for the right spark.

Now, every look lingers too long. Every brush of hands feels electric. Every stolen second alone turns dangerous.

You crave him like oxygen. always have.

And judging by the way Severus watches you when he thinks you’re not looking, the way his hands twitch at his sides like he’s fighting himself—he craves you too.

It starts small.

A kiss stolen in the shadows of a stairwell. A hand slipping under your robes to squeeze your hip before disappearing into the crowd. A whispered, "Meet me tonight." against the shell of your ear that makes your knees go weak.

You both know it’s reckless. You both know it can’t stay hidden forever but it’s already too late.

You’re too far gone.

And the taste of his mouth still clinging to yours is all the excuse you need to chase it again.

The corridor is abandoned except for you and Severus, hidden half behind an ancient suit of armor.

Your back slams lightly against the stone wall as he presses into you, mouth moving hungrily against yours, hands braced on either side of your head.

You wind your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, swallowing the broken sounds he makes against your lips.

Footsteps echo from somewhere down the hall.

You both freeze—lips still barely touching, breaths harsh against each other's skin.

Severus pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, "Later."

You kiss him once more anyway, fierce and reckless, before darting away in opposite directions.

And again.

You slip into the back corner of the library, pretending to search the dusty shelves.

Severus is already there, hidden in the shadows between towering bookcases.

No words.

Just his hand catching yours, pulling you into the gloom.

He cages you between the shelf and his body, kissing you before you can even breathe.

It’s slow, deep, burning.

Your hands slide up under his open robe, tracing warm skin and the sharp bones of his hips.

He bites back a low sound when your hips brush.

You both know this is insane. You both don't care.

And neither of you is going to stop.

The greenhouse is humid, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming moonflowers when he asks you to be his girlfriend. You barley have said yes before Severus grabs your waist, hoisting you up onto the long wooden worktable.

You wrap your legs around him automatically, pulling him flush against you.

His mouth is frantic against yours, fingers digging into your thighs.

Your hands trail under his shirt, feeling the sharp contrast between damp fabric and burning skin.

A pot clatters to the floor behind you.

You both freeze, staring at the door.

When no one comes, he just growls low in his throat and kisses you harder.

Like he can't stand being careful anymore now that he can call you his.

You push open the portrait hole as quietly as you can.

The Fat Lady mutters grumpily under her breath, but you slip through before she can scold you properly.

It’s nearly midnight.

The common room is dark, save for the dying embers in the fireplace. Chairs pushed askew, books forgotten on tables. Silent.

You breathe out slowly, easing toward the girls' staircase—

"Where were you?"

The voice cuts through the dark like a knife.

You jump, spinning around.

James sits in one of the armchairs, half-sunken into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glinting in the low firelight.

Waiting.

Watching.

"I—I was in the library," you lie, too fast.

He arches a disbelieving brow. "Library closes at ten."

"Studying," you mumble, heat prickling at the back of your neck. "Lost track of time."

James stands slowly, unfolding himself to his full, infuriating height.

"You've been disappearing a lot lately," he says carefully, like he's testing the waters. "Skipping meals. Staying out after curfew. Coming back looking like—" He gestures vaguely at you—your wrinkled robes, your tangled hair, your flushed cheeks.

You cross your arms defensively.

"So what? I'm not allowed to have a life?"

"Depends who's in it," he says, voice sharp.

You meet his gaze stubbornly.

He narrows his eyes. Searching your face for something you won't give him.

Finally, he shakes his head, disgusted.

"Whatever," he mutters, brushing past you toward the boys' staircase. "But if you think I'm not paying attention—you’re wrong."

The words hang behind him like a curse.

You stand there long after he’s gone, heart hammering.

James is suspicious.

Too suspicious.

James lounges in one of the worn-out armchairs in the Gryffindor common room the following night, tossing a Chocolate Frog in the air and catching it lazily.

You’re supposed to be upstairs.

Asleep. Safe. Instead, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Again.

"You know," Sirius says, grinning as he drops into the chair beside him, "if you’re so worried about her sneaking off, we could just check."

James frowns. "Check what?"

Sirius smirks, pulling a folded, worn piece of parchment from his pocket.

James' stomach sinks.

The Marauders' Map.

"Always knew you were paranoid, Prongs," Sirius says easily. "Now you can prove it."

James hesitates—guilt flickering in his gut but not enough to stop him.

He taps the map once with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The parchment comes alive under his hands, black ink curling into familiar hallways and stairwells.

Dots labeled with names begin to appear all over the map—some clustered in dormitories, some roaming late through the castle.

He scans quickly.

No sign of you in Gryffindor Tower. Not in the library. Not in the Great Hall.

His stomach knots tighter.

Then he sees it.

Severus Snape Y/N Potter

In an abandoned classroom.

Far from everything else.

He doesn't think. He shoves to his feet, knocking the chair over, map clutched tight in his hand.

"Where are you going?" Remus asks sharply.

James doesn't answer.

He’s already gone, heart hammering, fists clenched.

Already sprinting down the stairs, across the courtyard, through the darkened halls.

Already knowing—knowing—that whatever he finds won't be something he can ever unsee.

Already furious.

You had once again sneaked out to meet Severus in the abandoned classroom where you always meet now. You had found it by accident after looking for a quiet place to make out in peace.

He’s already there, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, hair falling into his eyes. He looks every bit the dark, dangerous secret he’s always been—and he is all yours.

You slip inside without a word. His wand flicks. The door shuts with a low thunk.

You set your books down noisily, pretending you don’t see him watching you.

Pretending you’re not vibrating with the need to touch him.

He crosses the room in two long strides.

“You’re late,” he says quietly, but there’s no real bite to it.

“Did you missed me?“ you tease, smirking.

He shakes his head, that small, private smile you love flashing across his face.

“You have no idea how much.”

His fingers skim your sleeve first. Testing. Asking.

When you don’t move, he steps closer.

His hand slides down your arm slowly—slow enough to make you shiver—and tangles his fingers with yours.

The kiss is inevitable.

You lean into him, your mouth finding his easily, naturally, like you were made for it. His hands come up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just right, deepening it.

And when he kisses you properly—really kisses you—you forget how to stand.

Your back hits the desk. His robes are cool against your legs as he presses between them. His fingers slip under your shirt, tracing your ribs lightly, making you arch into his touch.

He breathes your name against your throat.

You tug at the buttons of his shirt, frustrated when they don’t come undone fast enough. He laughs—quiet and strained—and pulls it over his head instead, leaving him gloriously rumpled and flushed.

You run your hands across the planes of his chest, savoring the way he shudders under your touch.

"Severus," you whisper, pulling him closer.

He groans low in his throat, like he’s barely holding himself back.

He lifts you onto the desk properly, standing between your knees now, and drags his mouth over your jaw, your neck, the hollow at your throat. His teeth scrape lightly over your skin, making you gasp.

His hands are everywhere—your hips, your back, your thighs. opening your shirt.

You cling to him, kissing him harder, needing more.

Your shirt is pushed open, your skirt hitched higher around your waist. You feel him against you, hard and trembling with restraint, and it hits you how close you are to not stopping this time.

He breaks away long enough to mutter, "Tell me to stop."

"I don't want to," you breathe, pulling him back.

You want this. You want him.

Completely.

His hand slides up your thigh, hesitating only a second before moving higher.

You gasp against his mouth.

He curses under his breath—your name twisted into something desperate—and then he is laying you back against the desk with heartbreaking care.

You feel his hands fumble with the button of your skirt—

The door crashes open with a bang so loud it rattles the old windows.

You barely register the sound—too wrapped up in Severus, in the heat of his mouth on your neck, the desperate clutch of his hands on your hips.

You gasp, shoving Severus back instinctively.

He freezes.

And you turn—already knowing.

Already dreading.

James stands in the doorway, wand drawn, face contorted with something worse than rage.

Betrayal.

James' gaze flicks between you, taking in every disastrous detail. And then he moves.

Fast.

He barrels across the room and shoves Severus back with both hands.

"GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF HER!" James roars, voice cracking.

Severus stumbles but doesn’t fight back, hands raised, palms open.

"James, STOP!" you cry, scrambling off the desk, yanking your shirt closed with trembling fingers.

He doesn’t even look at you.

"You slimy little bastard," James snarls at Severus, wand jabbing at his chest. "How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been sneaking around with my sister like some—some filthy—"

"Don’t!" you scream, shoving James back now, standing between them. “It’s not what you think—”

"Not what I think?! I caught you practically shagging Snape on a classroom desk!“ He got even more furious saying it pulling you away from Severus and bringing himself between the two of you again.

"We're together, James!” you shout, chest heaving. “We've been friends since my first year. We didn’t expect to catch feelings.“

James flinches like you hit him.

"You—you let him touch you For Years?! That greasy git?!"

„Don’t talk about him like that! I love him!" you shout.

It rips out of you before you can stop it.

The words hang heavy in the air.

Severus speaks then, voice low and broken: "I love her too I won’t hurt her…“

James rounds on Severus.

"You think loving her matters?" he spits. "You really think that matters?! after what you said to Lily?! You truly think you are worthy of my Sister!? You think loving her makes you deserve her?!You don't even deserve to breathe the same bloody air as her!“

Severus recoils.

Not from James.

From the truth he already believes.

You see it hit him like a curse.

Hard.

Final.

You step toward him, desperate, reaching out.

“Sev—”

He shakes his head once. Sharp.

He bends to scoop up his shirt from the floor with shaking hands, not meeting your eyes.

"Severus," you plead, grabbing his arm. "Please. Don’t—"

He pulls away like your touch burns him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." he says, voice cracked and broken.

And then he shoves past you both and bolts out the door.

You lurch forward without thinking.

"Severus—!"

You’re halfway to the door when an arm wraps around you, dragging you back.

"Y/N, STOP!" James snaps, voice urgent, tight with anger.

You thrash against him, struggling, fighting to break free.

"Let me GO!" you scream, kicking and shoving, but he won’t loosen his grip.

"Just listen to me!" James hisses into your ear. "He’s not good for you. You’re upset—you’re not thinking straight. Whatever he told you it was just to ruin you."

"I’m thinking clearer than I ever have!" you sob, fists pounding uselessly against his chest. "And you—you’re the one who ruined it!"

James pulls you back harder, trying to force you to face him.

"You’ll thank me someday," he says, voice trembling. "I—I had to. I couldn’t stand there and watch you throw your life away on—on him."

You whip around, shoving him back with both hands.

"Thank you?" you repeat, voice rising. "You think I’ll THANK you for this?"

You step forward, shaking with fury and heartbreak.

"You didn’t save me, James," you hiss. "You broke me."

James' mouth opens—maybe to defend himself, maybe to argue.

You cut him off.

"You have NO right," you shout. "No right to decide who I love. No right to tear him down in front of me. No right to rip apart the one thing that made me feel like I wasn’t just—just some extension of YOU!"

Your voice cracks completely, the sob ripping out of you.

"He loves me," you choke out. "And you—you made him think he was a monster for it."

James grabs your wrists, trying to steady you, but you wrench away.

"He left because of YOU!" you sob. "Because you couldn’t see anything but your own damn hatred!"

James looks stricken.

"Y/N—"

You turn away from him, chest heaving, heart aching so badly you don’t know how you’re still standing.

"I love him," you whisper again, broken and quiet now. "And now he’s gone because you made him believe he shouldn’t have ever touched me. Like being with me and loving me is wrong…“

The Gryffindor common room is nearly empty when James hauls you through the portrait hole.

The fire burns low, casting long shadows across the floor.

Sirius is slouched on one of the couches, tossing a Gobstone from hand to hand.

Remus sits nearby, a book forgotten in his lap, brows furrowed.

They both look up when you enter and freeze.

You’re pale. Empty. Your clothes rumpled, your hair a mess, your face so hollow it doesn’t even look like you anymore.

You don’t say a word. You don’t even look at them.

You just walk—no, stumble—across the room and up the girls' staircase without stopping.

The dormitory door clicks shut behind you.

The silence you leave behind is deafening.

James stands there for a second, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing hard like he’s just fought a war.

Maybe he has.

"What the bloody hell happened? Who did she sneak off with?" Sirius demands, sitting up straight, the Gobstone forgotten, rolling onto the floor.

James turns, jaw tight.

"Snivellus" he spits.

Remus' eyebrows pull together sharply.

Sirius whistles low. "Snape? Seriously?"

James paces, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Had her pinned against a bloody desk," he snarls. "Half-dressed. Hands all over her—"

Sirius swears loudly, jumping to his feet. "You should’ve cursed his bollocks off!"

James shakes his head violently. "I should’ve killed him."

Remus stays silent. Watching. Thinking.

"He must have messed her up badly the way she looked like" Sirius presses, jaw set.

James doesn’t answer at first. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw.

"She said she loves him."

The words hang in the air, ugly and unbelievable. Sirius looks like he’s about to vomit. Remus just sits there, silent, pale, staring at the stairs you disappeared up.

Not at James.

Not at Sirius.

"She’s not thinking straight," James insists, half to them, half to himself. "She’s innocent. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. He—he’s twisted her around."

Sirius nods fiercely, fanning the flames. "Exactly. She’ll realize. She’ll thank you for saving her."

James nods along with him, desperate for someone to agree.

Remus just watches the fire crackle and die, his mouth a thin, worried line.

Finally, he speaks—quietly, too quietly.

"I don’t think she’s going to thank you, James."

James freezes.

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

Remus looks at him—really looks at him—and sighs.

"I think you just broke something you can’t fix."

No one says anything after that.

The fire guttered low. The common room swallowed in shadows. The world tilting under their feet—and none of them knowing how to stop it.

And upstairs, behind a closed door, you cry into your pillow for the boy who ran—and the brother who pushed him away.

Next morning everywhere you go, one of them is there—leaning against the corridor wall, “casually” reading a book by the portrait hole, “just happening” to walk into whatever room you’re in.

If you so much as glance toward the dungeons, Sirius is suddenly cracking a joke, slinging an arm around your shoulders and steering you in the opposite direction.

If you take too long at dinner, James nudges your plate toward you, frowning like you’ve committed a crime by not eating.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You sure as hell can’t slip away to find Severus.

At first, you try.

You sneak toward the library after dinner:

Sirius appears two corridors over, yawning theatrically.

You slip out early from Charms:

James is waiting outside the classroom door, arms crossed.

It’s suffocating.

Eventually, you stop trying.

You stop talking. You stop laughing. You become a ghost in your own life—going to classes, eating mechanically, staring through people when they speak to you.

You exist but that’s all.

You don’t even bother looking for Severus anymore.

Because when you catch the briefest glimpse of him—across the courtyard, by the greenhouses—you see it.

The wreckage.

He’s thinner, paler. He doesn’t eat. Doesn’t speak unless forced. Doesn’t meet anyone’s eye.

If he sees you in the hallway, he turns sharply and disappears down another corridor.

Like you’re poison now. Like loving you hurt too much to bear.

The castle feels wrong without him. Without you.

Without the part of yourself you gave him and can’t get back.

One evening, after a long, miserable dinner where James and Sirius chatter loudly about Quidditch like everything’s fine, you excuse yourself early.

You climb the stairs alone, footsteps hollow on the stone.

You reach the dormitory, shut the door softly behind you, and collapse onto your bed.

You lie there fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the laughter drift up from the common room below.

It doesn’t feel like your laughter anymore.

You don't even recognize the girl they think they’re protecting.

And miles away in the dark corridors of the castle, Severus Snape leans his forehead against the cold stone wall and wonders why letting go hurts worse than holding on ever did.

It’s another miserable evening in the common room.

You sit by the fire, pretending to read, staring at the same page for half an hour.

James and Sirius are across the room, laughing too loudly about something stupid, like the world hasn’t cracked open and swallowed you whole.

You don’t laugh. You barely breathe.

Remus watches you. He watches the way your shoulders sag lower every day. He watches the way your eyes stay dull, unseeing, unfocused. He watches the way you shrink smaller and smaller until you barely take up space at all.

And finally, he’s had enough.

He stands up abruptly crossing the room and sits down across from you.

When you glance up, startled, he says it—simple and quiet:

"Go to him. He is at the old Astronomy Tower."

You blink.

It takes a second to even register the words.

Behind him, James and Sirius whip their heads around like they’ve just heard a curse word.

"What?!" James explodes, half-rising from his seat.

"Have you lost your mind, Moony?" Sirius demands.

Remus doesn’t even turn. He keeps his gaze steady on you.

"You heard me," he says calmly. "Go to Severus. I saw him go there after dinner I am sure he is still there."

You open your mouth—whether to argue or cry, you don’t know—but James storms over before you can speak.

"Remus, you can't be serious!" James hisses. "After what he did—after what she almost did—"

"He didn’t force her," Remus cuts in sharply. Still quiet but deadly.

James flinches.

"You two," Remus says, voice low, "have been watching her like a bloody hawk. Controlling her. Smothering her. And look at her now."

He gestures to you.

You sit frozen, hands clutching the book in your lap so tightly your knuckles are white.

"She's not better off," Remus continues. "She's not happier. She's breaking apart. It's YOU she needs saving from and not Severus"

James' mouth opens.

"She is perishing in front of us. Obeying you and it's killing her." Remus says, louder now, anger crackling just under the surface. "And you call that protection? Her being heartbroken just so You can be happy?"

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, looking away.

James stares at you like he sees it for the first time—the hollowness in your eyes, the defeat carved into your face.

It hits him like a blow.

Remus stands, taller than you’ve ever seen him, voice steady and firm.

"You love him," he says to you. "And he loves you."

You shake your head, tears burning in your eyes. "It's to late...He left—"

"Because he thought it was what you needed," Remus says gently. "Because James made him believe it."

He steps closer.

"You deserve to be with the one you love, happy." he says, soft but fierce. "Not trapped in someone else's idea of who you should be."

He glances at James now, full of steel.

"Go. Be with him and if anyone tries to stop you again," he adds, voice dropping dangerously low, "they'll have to answer to me."

James stiffens. Sirius stares at the floor.

Remus turns back to you.

"Go," he says simply. "Don't waste another bloody second and don't ever let go again."

And for the first time in weeks—

You feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t say thank you. You don’t say goodbye. You just run—faster than you ever have—out into the night, chasing the only thing that’s ever made you feel whole.

The castle is dark and empty when you run. Corridors blur past you.

Your chest aches with every breath, shoes slap against the cold stone floor but you don’t stop. Not until you reach the place you need.

The old Astronomy Tower.

The one place where the world always felt just a little farther away.

You shove the heavy door open and spill onto the stairs.

Up and up, higher and higher, heart in your throat.

And there slumped against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed—

Severus.

For a long moment, you just stand there.

Frozen.

He looks so small. So broken. So far from the boy who once argued with you over Potions essays and sneaked kisses behind dusty curtains.

You take a trembling step forward. He doesn't look up.

You whisper, "Severus?"

He flinches like you hit him.

"You shouldn’t be here," he says hoarsely, voice raw from disuse or crying—you can't tell.

You move closer anyway.

He finally lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot. Haunted.

And full of so much guilt it nearly floors you.

"I left," he says brokenly. "I left so you could find better. You should Hate me."

You shake your head furiously, blinking away the tears blurring your vision.

"I could never hate you," you whisper.

He laughs then—a terrible, hollow sound.

"You should," he mutters. "Your brother was right. I’m—I'm nothing. I’m—"

"Stop," you say sharply, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He tries to look away. You grab his face between your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"Don't you dare," you whisper fiercely. "Don't you dare let him make you believe that."

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t let go.

"You are mine," you say, voice shaking with the force of it. "You are good and you are brilliant and you are everything to me."

His hands tremble as he grips your wrists.

"You deserve better," he chokes out.

"I don’t want better," you snap. "I want you."

Something crumbles in him then.

You feel it. The last wall cracking and falling apart between you.

He surges forward, crushing his mouth to yours—desperate, broken, real.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there's no space left between you.

Tears mix with the kiss, but neither of you cares.

Not anymore.

You’re here. He’s here.

And that’s all that matters.

When you finally break apart, panting, foreheads pressed together, you whisper the only thing that matters:

"I love you."

You feel him shudder against you.

"I love you too," he whispers back, voice wrecked.

"And I’m not leaving," you promise. "Not ever again."

He pulls you into his arms then, holding you so tightly it nearly hurts.

You hold him just as tightly back.

Two broken pieces, fitting back together.

And for the first time in weeks—you feel whole again.

The grass is cool beneath you, the spring air sharp and fresh.

You sit cross-legged under one of the big oaks near the lake, a book open across your lap. Severus leans against the trunk beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours with every shift.

He’s reading too—or pretending to.

Mostly, he keeps glancing at you from under his lashes, as if still half-convinced you might vanish if he looks away too long.

You lift your head and catch him staring.

"What?" you tease, cheeks warm.

He just shakes his head, smiling in that small, secret way only you ever get to see.

"Nothing," he says. "Everything."

You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face.

He leans into your touch without thinking, eyes fluttering shut.

You kiss his forehead—slow, lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer until you’re half in his lap, laughing breathlessly.

"You’re ridiculous," you murmur against his temple.

"You chose me," he reminds you, voice full of wonder.

"Always," you whisper.

For once, there’s no fear. No hiding. No need to look over your shoulder.

Just you and him.

And the sunlight weaving between you like a blessing.

You don’t even hear them at first. The crunch of footsteps across the grass. The shift in the air.

Severus stiffens beneath you.

You twist to look.

James. Sirius. Remus.

Walking back from the Quidditch pitch, laughing and loud—until they see you.

Then everything stops.

Severus’ body tenses even more under your hands. You feel the old fear rising in him—automatic, instinctual. He shifts, like he might pull away.

You don’t let him.

You tighten your grip around his waist, leaning in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw.

You stay.

You don’t hide. You hold him in the open and dare anyone to take him from you.

James' mouth tightens. Sirius’ jaw clenches.

Remus lingers back, watching, unreadable.

Severus doesn't move. Neither do you.

After a long beat, James looks away first.

He turns, stiff and silent, walking on without a word. Sirius follows, slower, frowning.

Only Remus pauses.

He meets your eyes across the space.

And he smiles. Soft. Certain. Proud.

He nods once—small but full of meaning—before jogging after the others.

Severus slumps slightly against you, breathing out shakily.

"They didn't—" he starts.

You kiss the corner of his mouth.

"They won't," you promise.

He threads his fingers through yours.

And together, you watch the lake sparkle in the late afternoon light.

Free.

Seen.

Loved.

At last.

#fanfic #severus snape x reader #severus snape #harry potter

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cciwos · 2 days ago

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𓂃₊ ⊹ 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 | corners

ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 ; '𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑔𝑜 𝑛𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠

₊˚⊹ ᰔ . bff!jungwon + gn!reader ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

you always sat at the same table in the campus library tucked away near the philosophy section, where barely anyone ever wandered. it was your quiet little corner of the world, and that was enough.

until he started showing up.

at first, it was just once or twice. a boy with soft blonde hair, headphones around his neck, and a stack of neatly organized notes. he didn’t speak much, but his eyes were kind. you noticed he always brought iced americanos, even in the middle of winter, and that he hummed softly when he read. eventually, he started nodding at you in greeting. one day, he sat at the table across from you.

“hope you don’t mind,” he had said, setting down his bag.

you didn’t. you really didn’t.

you learned his name was jungwon. he was majoring in journalism, had a dry sense of humor, and was insanely good at keeping his cool in stressful situations, except when he was flustered. you’d seen it once when his pen rolled off the table and you handed it to him. his ears had turned completely red.

now, weeks later, it had become a routine. you studied together, occasionally exchanged playlists, and sometimes even shared snacks, him with his almond covered chocolate sticks, you with your matcha cookies. you didn’t call it hanging out, but it was.

today, though, he seemed… off.

he was quieter than usual, lips pressed in a line as he highlighted the same sentence over and over. after a while, you reached over and gently poked his hand.

“you good?” you asked.

he looked up at you, startled. then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “honestly? no. i’ve got this presentation tomorrow and i can’t get my thoughts in order.”

“wanna talk it out?”

he hesitated, then gave a small nod. “yeah. that’d help.”

you listened as he explained his topic, something about the influence of social media on modern journalism. his ideas were solid, but his pacing was off, and he kept second guessing himself. so, you offered feedback, helped him reorder some points, and reassured him when he looked unsure.

by the time he finished running through the revised version, he was smiling again.

“you’re kind of amazing at this,” he said, half laughing.

you shrugged, a little shy. “i like helping you.”

he was quiet for a second. then, without warning, he reached across the table and took your hand just lightly, fingers barely curled around yours.

“you always make things feel easier,” he said, voice softer now. “like i don’t have to try so hard to be okay.”

you felt your heart do something ridiculous in your chest. his hand was warm, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin.

“i like being around you,” he added, eyes meeting yours. “a lot.”

you smiled, tightening your grip on his hand just slightly. “i like being around you too. a lot.”

it wasn’t dramatic. there was no sudden music swelling or wind blowing through the window. just two people in a quiet corner of the library, holding hands over highlighters and iced coffee, finding something real between the pages.

and then, still holding your gaze, he leaned in.

there was a pause before he did, a heartbeat where everything slowed down. the buzz of the library lights faded, the tapping of keyboards, the low whispers behind bookshelves, all of it melted into a soft kind of silence. he was looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

you could feel the weight of his gaze, the tension in the air. his fingers twitched slightly in your hand, and you realized he was just as nervous as you were.

his face was close now, so close you could see the way his lashes framed his eyes, the faint pink dusting the tops of his cheeks, the way his lips parted like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

and then, finally, he closed the distance.

the kiss wasn’t rushed. it was slow, like he was still making sure it was okay, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned in too, eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his. warm, soft, and a little unsure at first, like you were both testing the waters.

your hand instinctively reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie sleeve, anchoring you to the moment. his other hand brushed lightly against your cheek before he let it fall to rest on the table between you, not quite touching, but close enough that you felt the presence of it. the kiss deepened just slightly, enough to steal the air from your lungs and leave your heart racing.

there was something unspoken in it. gratitude. relief. a quiet kind of affection that had been building for weeks in glances across the table and shared silences that felt full instead of empty.

when you finally pulled back, both of you blinked slowly, like coming out of a dream.

you felt your breath catch in your throat. he was still close, forehead nearly resting against yours now, his eyes searching yours with a kind of wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

then, he let out a soft laugh, breathless and a little shaky.

“that wasn’t in my study plan,” he murmured, voice low and warm with something that felt dangerously close to joy.

you laughed, cheeks flushed, your voice lighter than usual as you teased, “guess you’ll have to make room for it.”

he smiled, really smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

“yeah,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing across your knuckles like a quiet promise. “i think i will.”

#⋆˚꩜｡ cciwos #єηнуρєη ♪‧₊˚#enhypen #jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon #jungwon fluff #enhypen jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #jungwon x female reader #jungwon x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x fem reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x gender neutral reader #kpop fluff

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dinoandguitar · 14 hours ago

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wait ik u are in the middle of the new parents series but i was wondering if you could do them taking care of you when you are pregnant? maybe starting w seungkwan? :’)

Listening, comforting, loving.

Husband!BooSeungkwan x Afab!Reader

Genre: Pure Fluff! (Hint of angst)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, pregnancy related symptoms such as nausea. Mentions of food, body insecurities and various aches and pains (that come with pregnancy).

A/N : Thank you so much for the request! Honestly love this idea. Its sooo cute 🥹❤️‍🩹 I'll for sure work on making a series with this as well. Thank you again and hope you like it 🫶🏾

Please feel free to send in any requests :D

Masterlist

After finding out you were pregnant, Seungkwan’s entire world shifted. He treated you like the most precious thing on earth, well I mean he already did, but he made sure you felt even more precious than that. From the moment the second line appeared on that little test, you didn’t lift a finger without him hovering nearby.

The first few weeks, when the morning sickness hit hard, Seungkwan was your unwavering rock. He would wake up before you every morning just to prepare a tray with dry crackers, a warm cup of tea, and tissues, knowing you might get sick before even making it to the bathroom. If you couldn’t keep anything down, he’d sit beside you on the floor, rubbing soothing circles on your back, murmuring soft encouragements like, "It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well. Our little peanut's just growing strong."

Some nights you couldn't even look at food- the nausea was too much. So Seungkwan would quietly cook some broth or cut up some fresh fruits and sit with you, spoon-feeding you tiny bites just to make sure you stayed nourished. And on the days you managed to eat properly, he celebrated it like you’d just won an Olympic medal, beaming and kissing your temple proudly.

When you began showing, Seungkwan’s protectiveness grew even more (As if it wasn’t already too much 😭). He refused to let you carry anything heavier than your phone. Grocery bags? He was already at the door the second you looked at them. Laundry basket? Nah, forget it. He was scooping it up before you even noticed. If you so much as reached for something on a higher shelf, he would appear out of nowhere, wagging his finger playfully, "Uh-uh, Jagi. That’s my job now."

He signed you both up for prenatal yoga (You didn’t know that was a legit thing until you showed up for your first session tbh) and even though he was the only husband in the entire class , He made sure he attended every single session, diligently copying the poses, sometimes clumsily, but with pure devotion, just to make sure you felt supported.

After classes, he would gently massage your feet and legs, using scented oils he researched himself of, "It has to be pregnancy-safe, Jagi, I triple-checked!") (It was just Lavender oil btw. Bro just triple checked Lavender oil 🥲)

At home, he would set up pillows everywhere.

On the couch? Pillows.

In bed? Pillows surrounding you like a fluffy fortress.

Even when you napped in random places… the armchair, the dining table… Seungkwan would sneak over and slip a pillow under your neck or feet making sure to not wake you up.

Whenever you felt self-conscious about your body changing, your swollen ankles, your stretch marks, or your changing weight, Seungkwan would cup your face, look at you with the softest expression, and say, "You’re carrying our daughter. Every part of you is so so beautiful. You’re even more gorgeous now, if that’s possible."

He spoke and sang to your belly daily.

He sang soft lullabies at bedtime, his voice being one of the few things that would actually help you sleep when your whole body ached or you were overwhelmed.

He also had full-on conversations as well. He would crouch down in front of you, resting his cheek against your stomach, and whisper, "Hey Baby girl. Appa here. I hope you're being nice to your Eomma today. She’s the best, you know? The prettiest, kindest, bravest woman in the whole world. You’re so lucky. We both are."

When your mood swings kicked in (and sometimes it kicked hard),Seungkwan handled it like a pro. If you cried over a commercial, he’d cry with you, dramatically sniffling until you were giggling. If you got frustrated and snapped at him, he’d quietly give you space.. then appear minutes later with your favourite blanket, a warm drink, and open arms, ready to cuddle without saying a word.

He made it a rule to never let you feel lonely . Whether it was late-night foot rubs, midnight drives just because you wanted fries and ice cream (Mixed together btw), singing to you softly until you fell asleep, or letting you vent about every ache and fear, Seungkwan was there. Listening, comforting, loving.

And when he looked at you- even if your hair was a mess, your feet swollen, and you were waddling around the house like a penguin (according to him tgat was the cutest thing ever 🥹)- his gaze held nothing but pure adoration, like you were his whole universe wrapped up in one person.

You often caught him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, his eyes glassy with awe, murmuring under his breath, "How did I get so lucky?"

And whenever you got scared, scared of labor, of being a mom, of everything changing, Seungkwan would pull you close, press his forehead to yours, and promise, "We’re in this together. You, me, and our baby girl. Always.”

A/N : Hope you liked it! Your support is much appreciated 🫶🏾

#seventeen #svt #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan x reader #svt seungkwan #seventeen boo seungkwan #seventeen seungkwan #seungkwan

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dandysworld-meh-imagines · 3 days ago

Note

Bassie x reader please? She’s my favorite out of the Easter toons! :D

Bassie X Reader Headcanons!

She's also my favorite out of the Easter toons! I totally didn't expect her personality to be like this, she really needs a hug sobs. She's the last one I need next to Bobette and Astro!! Here you go, dear! Thank you for requesting! <3

I'm also taking this chance to say that you all can now request for the Easter toons!! Twisted or not! I think I have an okay grasp on them to write now (though I might make mistakes)!! The masterlist got some upgrade too, hehe.

-Anna

-Oh, how she loves spending time with you! She feels herself feeling calm and smiling more often when you are around. It really helps with her overthinking or when she is feeling tense and anxious for seemingly no reason. At first, Bassie will never make it known that she fears being replaced, she always avoids it and avoids bringing it up. Laughing a bit too much if something like that comes up or you want to spend time with her and not Cocoa for example.

-She doesn't hate Cocoa, but her fear makes her act cold to her, she doesn't want her help, she doesn't need it, she's independent enough! It makes her calm down when you come to her for help or to spend time with her, she might feel happy enough to laugh a bit too much. It kinda was rubbing you off the wrong way but at the end, maybe you figured out that's how she was, the feeling in your stomach never left though. Asking her if she was alright would just make her have this forced smile as she reassures you that she is perfect fine.

-Pressing flowers together with her makes her feel the calmest, she loves doing that with you and it's when you noticed that she's acting more calmer, happier. It gets you to think a lot but for now, you are just happy to spend time with her, you really do love her, after all! Even her words are more firm and stable as she talks to you, she has this calming and warm aura around her that you adore. It's also nice if Flyte joins you two! Everyone has a good time as they press on flowers and do all sorts of cool things with them! Bassie loves to collect the ones you did, it makes her feel warm inside, it helps with the anxiety.

-When you accept Cocoa's offer for help or just spend time with her, Bassie feels nervous but she totally understands. She knows she might not be as helpful as Cocoa, who has a lot of experience helping others and was so kind to ask everyone if they needed anything, because she could help them. When you come back to Bassie, you do notice the nervous expression on her face as she looks away. Trying to comfort her in any way would make her try to convince you that she is totally fine! Nothing wrong! She totally isn't stuttering trying to convince you otherwise, nope!

-Sometimes the fear becomes too much that she can't keep it together and she cries to you or even on you if you hold her close. She breaks down for a good while in silence, she feels pathetic and wishes that she could just be as good as Cocoa, she is afraid of getting replaced, on relying on others yet she was here, sobbing in your arms, she felt ashamed. When she recovers a bit is when she doesn't care anymore and tells you what she has been feeling all this time, she is afraid, she doesn't know what to do to be better and better and be actually worthy of the title "main" toon.

-You try your best to be here for her whenever she needs. Bassie wants to get better and stronger and you do your best to help her. She really appreciates it and also is happy for your advice that you give her, she wants to take it well and remember it desperately when she starts to struggle with her thoughts on things. She tries hard not to let her fears get the best of her but please give her some time, hold her well if she starts breaking down again. You really do see her try better and that to get over them and feel like a proper main toon without any of those difficulties.

-Affection gets her very shy, flustered or even tense but she quickly relaxes enough to lean against your side. You still remember the first time you ever held hands or even left a kiss somewhere on her face, you watched as she felt very flustered, her face red as she hid it with her hands, refusing to look at you for a good while. She is more comfortable now and doesn't shy away as much, even leaning against your gentle touch in this comforting silence. If you don't mind, you can talk and she will quietly listen to your every word as those scary thoughts go away.

-Bassie really likes all the gifts you give her and she keeps them safe somewhere, making sure nothing would ever harm them. She tries making you gifts as well, they are more flower related things but she can also try her best to make them related to your interests! She feels warm and smiles if you enjoy them and thank her, she feels like she did a good job. She just hopes you like the other future gifts she will make for you.

-She really loves it when you two sit on the grass on the Easter map, just enjoying the view or even watching the others run around and many more, hunting eggs or just relaxing like the two of you. You two can also try an egg hunt together! Either alone or together as you explore around, will you two best Eggson? Only one way to find out! She loves doing things together with you and having fun like this makes her feel nice. Even just sitting close to you in the grass as you count the eggs you found makes her smile.

-She really hopes that you also don't replace her for another lover, it's something she fears even more than being replaced as a main toon. You mean so much to her and you are the one that helps her feel slowly more confident and that about herself. Bassie truly does appreciate you a lot and she loves you so much, she hopes you can see that even if she can be quite a mess. You help ground her and she wants to do her absolute best for you and for her to keep the main title. You make her feel happy and she wouldn't know what to do without you in her life, she hopes you see the day where she is strong enough to only stand up by herself.

Thank you for requesting! <3

#bassie x reader #bassie #dandy's world x reader #dandys world x reader #dandy's world #dandys world #dandys world bassie #dandy's world bassie #writing #fluff #gender neutral #semi angst

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yoonyeon0 · 2 days ago

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DADDY’S HOME! | kengan hcs pt. l

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𐙚 WITH: adam, akoya, hayami, hatsumi, himuro, cosmo, inaba

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𐙚 SUMMARY: the kengan men have finally found refuge in the small (or big) family they have with you!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𐙚 WARNINGS:

suggestive, mentions of s*x, cursing, children, female body parts, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY, mention of baby trapping in akoya's part, child birth, throwing up, sickingenly fluff ❤️❤️

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𐙚 AUTHOR’S NOTES: i love doing these sm 😭 pt two coming out either tmmrw or sunday !

⋆★ ! ADAM

surprisingly a good dad, (even though he prob got you pregnant on accident)

very attentive to both you and your child’s needs

sometimes shoos you away so he can spend time with “his offspring”

cosmo is DEFINITELY the Godfather, argue with a wall

GIRL DAD that swears he wanted a boy (he's lying)

literally cannot take anything serious as a dad and makes everything a joke

fun but kind of an irresponsible dad but it's ok!

as soon as you opened the door to your humble pent house, you were met with babbling sounds and squeals from the living room. you slightly chuckled to your self, already knowing what you were walking unto.

"im home!" you yelled out, alerting your husband of your presence.

not a minute after, you heard loud, quick foot steps coming your way and suddenly you saw the appearance of your husband and your 7 month old. upon seeing you, the baby burst out in squeals and laughter, kicking her feet up and down rapidly in her father's arms.

"awhh! hi there honey! did daddy take good care of you? yeah?" you said in a high pitched voice, slowly taking the baby from your husband's arms.

once the baby was secure on your hip, you decided to look up at your husband's face, expecting to see the hardened facial expression that only softened for you, the small stubble slowly forming around your husband's chin, and the quiet but alerting baby blue eyes that your child had inherited.

instead of seeing any of these qualities, you unfortunately saw a low quality photo of your face taped poorly unto the face of who you assumed was adam's. you stared at his face for a good minute, trying to figure out why the hell he has a photo of you on his face and as if he read your mind, he started to speak up.

"the kid wouldn't listen to me without this thing on me. 'hope you know that you corrupted her."

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter, partially silencing your baby's babbles. you noticed the slight twitch of your "loving" husband's face, causing you to cover your giggles.

"im - pffth - im so sorry that my kid actually loves me.."

"keep talking and im gonna render you immobile."

⋆★ ! AKOYA

kinda unavailable as a dad

like he will be there for his child physically but emotionally? yeah no

claims that he "does everything" (even though you're the one that teaches, feeds, and clothes them)

baby trapped you. (yall this man is NOT A GOOD PERSON)

boy dad. he will be DAMNED if you give birth to a girl (but secretly loves her SO MUCH bc that's his baby girl)

you had finally entered the school grounds of your child, rushing to the principals office due to the call you had gotten earlier.

once you had finally reached the principals office, you took a deep breathe and fixed your clothing before entering, not expecting to see the face of your lover, currently giving your daughter's principal the meanest stare that he wouldn't even give you.

"what do you mean my daughter was being disrespectful to teachers? are you questioning my parenting?"

you cringed at the word 'my', knowing damn well he didn't do anything to help you and your daughter, just throwing money around and going on his way to wherever.

"sir, I never said anything of the sort. all I am saying is that a punishment is due for all of her rudeness on school grounds. i mentioned maybe a 5 day suspension so maybe thats-"

"definitely not. again, why are you persecuting her? my daughter would not do anything of the sort and you are despicable for even saying that she would."

you decided to not make any noise to not alert the two, who were obviously in a heated argument. instead, you decided to step back and close the door a bit to watch the scence unfold. the way he acts toward you and your daughter seemed like he hated the two of you but here he was, defending her!

the principal and your husband went on and argued for a bit more, leading to the principal leaving the room and "expelling" your daughter from your husband's lack of compliance.

your daughter and your husband sat there for what seemed like a long time before he patted your daughter's head.

"it's okay sweetheart, that vile woman will be dealt with for carrying out the will of evil. how about instead of dwelling on her wrongdoings, we go out?"

you daughter looked up at akoya's face, smiling a jumping up to hug him.

"thank you daddy! can we get ice cream too?"

"of course we can love."

you smiled softly at the scene, your heart bursting at the seems from the adorable scene. though you wondered, when did your angry, mean, and justice-obsessed husband become so..soft?

⋆★ ! HAYAMI

#mymanmymanmyman

litterally everything you could ask for in a dad

PERFECT mix of strict and fun, litterally second best dad (kaolang is first)

you wouldn't have to do anything during the pregnancy; he's got it don't worry

PROBABLY got you pregnant on accident (he was lost in the sauce)

him and his kid are BEST FRIENDS

probably a boy dad but wouldn't mind a girl

stresses more than a mothafucker when you go into labor

there you were, huffing and puffing from being in the scorching pain of child bearing. if actions could speak, you'd be screaming louder than sound itself from all of the hitting and smacking you were doing to the hospital bed. you really were trying to refrain from yelling so that you don't manage to lose your voice but the dammed baby in your stomach was as stubborn as you.

suddenly, your vagina felt like it was on fire and your breathing became more prolonged. you were tuning out the calls from the doctors telling you to "push" and to "keep going" from the intense pain.

you were holding back the angry and sad mix of yells you were about to let out. with heavy breathes, you decided to let out your anger on your fiancé, who was covered in hospital attire next to you. your soft and manicured hands were holding his rough and large hands kindly before you inputted a large amount of pain and anger into the hold.

it seemed like you even took your husband off guard because of how intensely he was looking at your hand that was now squeezing the life out of his. he was about to speak from behind his hospital mask before you sent him a glare that shut him up immediately.

"i don't want hear a SINGLE word from you right now."

you shut him up faster than a punch could, which could be called an achievement if you think about it.

once your baby boy, who took every bit of strength out of you, was finally born, it seemed like your fiancé couldn't get his hands off of him.

"hey there little guy... im gonna be your dad ok? I hope you'll take me."

you smiled at him softly cradling the pretty baby in his hands with gentleness that he hadn't even touched you with. the baby's soft coos could be heard from inside your fiancé's arms, warming your heart even further.

maybe the childbirth was worth it.

⋆★ ! HATSUMI

super duper fun dad

ngl he would do either TOO MUCH with his kid or not enough.

either way he's the best with his kid

another one who would be bffs with his child

probably didn't want kids UNTILL he got you pregnant (accidentally)

girl dad. no questions whatsoever

it was a traditional thing that you and your family had made to always surprise someone whenever they went out and came back. this time, your husband was due to being surprised this time.

as your husband came back from another one of his fighting tournaments, your daughter had a great idea on how to surprise him today.

"im home!" he called out as he walked inside of your warm home, contrary to the cold weather outside.

..no response.

to his surprise, he wasn't being scared as soon as he walked in or greeted back in silly costumes. instead he was greeted with the same silence he always desired. but now, this same silence made him feel uneasy.

where was his daughter and wife? did they go out? are they hiding?

with a new found determination, he decided to push those thoughts away and instead look for an answer.

hatsumi tore the place down, top to bottom and found no one, just himself. with his heart slowly forming a sense of fear he started to become more agitated, calling your phone repeatedly and shouting for the two of you. hatsumi was about to search outside of the house before he released he hadn't checked on place. your daughters old nursey.

the nursery was long forgotten but it was still there, with all of the toys and your daughters old crib in order to honor her baby self. he reluctantly went closer to the door, slowly pushing it open to find you and your daughter dressed up as loraxes, dancing around a fake thneed tree to no music. all of the fear and worry hatsumi had before had now been replace with confusion and annoyance as he stared at the two of you.

"what is this."

as if on cue, the two of you handed him a oncler outfit and told him to change.

if this was family bonding, hatsumi wasn't sure he liked it very much.

⋆★ ! HIMURO

when he settles down, he settles DOWN

amazing dad, probably just is a bit too strict for your liking

probably baby traps the WHOLE house and says that it's to protect your baby

super overprotective over his child and you can't change his mind unfortunately

boy dad but wanted a girl.

he is the best dad (top 3)

you had left for the night shift of your job and had instructed himuro to feed your son before putting him to sleep and so that was what himuro was going to do.

well, it was what he attempted to do.

"no!"

himuro let out a huff of defeat as he slowly lowered the fork full of spinach down from his son's face. it had been 30 minutes now of begging the little boy to eat his veggies but he wouldn't let up.

"cmon hitori. if you wanna be strong like me, you gotta eat your vegetables!"

the little boy pouted his lips and shook his head vigorously, refusing to eat again. himuro was lost. he never cared for a child before and now this one was complaining and huffing over vegetables. he then sighed again, knowing that he would have to use his secret weapon.

your voice.

himuro had previously instructed you to record a voice message and to send it to him in case your shared son was feeling grumpy and uncompliant with certain demands.

as himuro pulled out his phone and turned on the voice recording, it seemed like the little boy was now intently looking at the phone until he heard your voice.

"hi there honey! i know im not there right now but be a good boy for mommy and eat your food okay?"

the boy quickly started to smile and cheer at hearing your voice immediately, causing a ruckus from the joy he was in. at seeing this, your husband started to pick up the fork full of veggies and push them to the mouth of the boy. instead of throwing the fork on the floor and complaining like the previous times, your toddler happily accepted the food, gulping it down in the matter of seconds.

damn, my son is really a mama's boy. himuro thought with a smile.

⋆★ ! COSMO

I can't see him as a dad but a cool uncle but I digress,

litterally SO FUN AS A DAD?

probably uses dad jokes everyday and he's dead serious in saying a joke everyday

he's that one dad you'd be embarrassed to bring to meet your friends bcs he's so awkward and corny

can and will be strict when needed—otherwise he is just a kind soul

honestly he is both a girl and boy dad but leaning towards boy

I'm sorry but he caves to anything his child asks of him

you want to go to Paris? okay sure!

you wanna own Paris? not sure he can do that but he'll try!

"daddy daddy! can I come with you to your job?"

your fiancé was one step outside the door when your three year old son decided to bring up his terrible fighting job he was in the middle of going to. he slowly turned to see him, grabbing tightly unto his sweat pants looking up at him with the most pleading eyes he has ever seen. cosmo quickly looked around for you to shut down your toddler's request until he realized that you were fast asleep in your shared room. he then quickly looked back to to make eye contact with his child.

"oh well buddy..you can't! daddy's job is very dangerous and serious and it's not made a cutie like you!"

your son's face slowly faded into a sad one, his lips now pouting and his eyes watering up. cosmo swore that his heart broke into millions of piece just looking at the poor baby.

although he didn't really want to, he couldn't exactly resist the sad, doggy eyes he was getting from his son.

so he caved.

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

walking to the abandoned warehouse with a stroller was absolutely stupid of him, why didn't he just carry the boy on his shoulders?!

whatever, he was already here and his adorable baby was in the stroller on his tablet watching some lousy kids shows.

cosmo could've sworn that his heart dropped when he finally entered to see a match already going on with so many business men surrounding the event. he was now rethinking everything. he should've just said no! now it's gonna be a pain having to fight and watch your son..

as he entered, he was immediately approached by adam and kureshi.

"hey cosmo!"

the two didn't seem to notice the stroller immediately until small baby sounds came from it. adam was the first on to speak, noticing the child almost immediately.

"-what do we have here?"

cosmo knew he was screwed. you and adam were great friends so he probably wouldn't hesitate to you where your child currently was!

before kureshi could ask a question of his own, cosmo bent down into a bow.

"i beg of both of you! please don't tell [name] i brought him here, they'll kill me!"

the two laughed as cosmo was begging, his voice starting to shake in fear of what would happen to him if you were to find out. adam sharply put his arms on cosmos shoulders before talking to him again.

"ahh don't worry cos! we won't tell them, but one condition.."

cosmo looked up at adam, subtle fear in his eye of what Adam was about to suggest.

"what is it?"

"you've gotta leave the child in our care while you fight."

cosmo sighed a loud sigh before he finally realized that that the two were just playing with him to make him scared. he chuckled a dry laugh before saying,

"yeah, i was planning on it"

⋆★ ! INABA

little dad with little daughter <3

SO CUTE AS A DAD

litterally cradles his child in his hair and make like a little woven basket to hold them in 😭❤️

SO protective over you and the child

your daughter DEFINITELY got all of her hair from him, no questions asked

GIRL DAD COMPLETELY, DIDNT WANT A BOY

you had 'accidently' walked in on you husband's 'daddy and daughter time' that they had told you not to interrupt but you were just a girl and curious on what they were doing but the heart warming sight in front of you was the thing you expected to see.

your daughter was getting her hair braided by your husband into a long french braid while she was in a pretty mulan kimono that you are sure inaba bought for her. she was humming the words to "Be A Man" from the Mulan movie while making the sounds effect too.

your husband, who was behind her, focused on brading right, was dressed in a formal yukata with black and gray Chinese warrior armor that resembles a Genji armor with gold trim with his hair in a neat bun, obviously replicating li shang. it was adorable seeing the two bond so eagerly, you decided to not bother them.

as you went back into the living room, you wondered if they were going to watch the movie which in turn made you want to make Mulan inspired snacks for them. you quickly texted your husband, telling him not start tge movie until you come. almost immediately, you got to work.

you made a bunch of the snacks, some looked prettier than others and some tasted better than others but you tried your best for not having recipes for all of them. you plated all of them, making them look as presentable as possible before you walked to the bedroom where the two were before.

on cue, as you opened the door, both your husband and daughter surprised you with their outfits. your daughter now had chinese inspired makeup on and she was ranting about how good it looked on her. your husband on the other hand, stared at you, captivated by you before speaking up.

"you didn't have to my love but thank you."

a small smile showed up on his face as your heart warmed up even more at his words of gratitude.

the night went on with you and your family, chowing down your homemade snacks and falling asleep to the quiet mulan soundtrack in the background.

yall im backkk 🤭🤭

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #reqs open #yoon0 #pls reblog #kengan ashura imagines #kengan ashura x reader #kengan x reader #hcs #blehh :3 #adam dudley #akoya seishu #hayami masaki #hatsumi sen #himuro tatsuya #inaba ryo #cosmo imai #fluff #x reader

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kiokos · 12 hours ago

Text

A GIRLS NEWFOUND PROBLEMS

Sypnosis: Y/N L/N, a girl rejected by everyone due to her ‘unusual’ appearance, had met up and become friends with a boy who was obsessed with soccer when she was 13, without knowing he would be the reason that she got to meet with the 3 people who would make her life shine brighter than ever before.

Genre: slight romance, crack, strangers to 4lifers, suggestive sometimes (?)

A/N: okay guys I swear I have a reason for not being online for like. Err.. two weeks..?😭 FIRST OF ALL LAST WEEK + TODAY WE HAVE BREAK FROM SCHOOL SO AYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY.

Anyways… SO YEAH I TRIED TO ENJOY MY TIME W MY FRIENDS AND STUFF :3!! Also I kind of added fine shyt. He’s cute and he’s so nice and JSJSJSHWHHSEBEHWBHSBEHSBWJQJWBDBSBSBSB He’s lowkey JAHSHSJAHQHWWHWHSHSJSBHSBDBDBXBXN

Anyways.

Warnings(?): kys jokes, kind of ooc karasu(?), ooc otoya(?), petnames (doll), you and karasu sit on the same bed, lowkey jealous karasu, idk what else to add lolz

Taglist: @ihe4rtme @x3nafix @sapphireillusions

(Comment to be added.)

You groaned and you finally got the last baggages into your room, with a smug karasu behind you carrying two massive ones as if it was nothing. You rolled your eyes as you saw the look on his face. Before you could say anything, he went, “yer’ overreacting. They ain’t that heavy, ya dimwit.”

And there did the flying sandal go! Straight to his face. “YOU SHOULD LEARN TO SHUT UP!” “OUCH- THAT HURT YA IDIOT!” You rolled your eyes before huffing out a, “just help me unpack, will you? Also don’t touch that bag.” “Why?” “My underwears are in them. DO NOT TOUCH.” “Sounds interestin’.” “TABITO.” “OKAY-OKAY.”

When he started helping you unpack, he noticed a particular picture you two took years ago. He gently picked it up from your bag, being extra careful not to break it before turning to you with a big grin on his face, before saying, “reminds me of the old days. Remember when ya once grabbed a boy by his ear and forced him to apologize to me?! That was frickin’ hilarious!” “THAT’S BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO MUCH OF A WUSS TO DO IT YOURSELF!” “WAS NOT!”

You rolled your eyes as you took the picture and settled it down on your desk. “Ya know, ya should probably put that in an.. errr… what’s it called again?” “Picture frame?” “Ya! That!” You let out a laugh and said, “yeah. You know what, maybe I should.” You could barely even say something else before shidou came in the room.

He was looking for karasu - and grinned when he saw you two together. “Dang, didn’t know she was taken, karasu.” “Shut up, you dimwit. We’re just friends.” “Thats what they all sayyyyy;3” “you little-!” Shidou grinned and ran out the room as karasu chased after him and you simply sighed. You were about to call karasu back to help you put something up, until otoya came into your room.

You paused when you saw him. You did as karasu asked and didn’t really speak to otoya - setting aside all the normal stuff such as ‘goodmorning’, ‘bye’, ‘hi’, things like that, but other than those moments, you barely spoke with the guy. As you were about to speak up, he went,

“Heard you calling for karasu, but he’s busy chasing down shidou right now… what did you need?” He said in such a nonchalant tone it almost pissed you off, but you simply sighed and answered his question. “Err, you see, I need to set up something and needed karasu’s help..” you admitted, to which otoya replied to with, “I can help. What is it you need to put up?” He said, tilting his head slightly.

“Ah, just something for my closet,” you said as you opened the closet doors as to show him. (not sure what to call them), you pointed at a pole(?) you’re supposed to put up (the kind in which you need to hang your clothes on). “Ah, okay, I see. Let me help.” He said, slightly hesitating to come in the room, as if asking you for permission to enter. As you nodded, he entered and started working.

—————-

“Alright, all done.” He muttered after a few minutes, turning to you. “Ah, thanks. How can I repay you?” You said as your gaze met his. “Hm, you don’t need to. ‘S what roommates do, right? Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He said before pausing, and then he went, “if you really wanna repay me, you could come with me to visit this new record shop that opened last week?” You hesitated for a little bit before choking out a, “yeah… sure.” He nodded as he left the room.

What you didn’t expect to see as he left the room, though, was a very-much-not-pleased-karasu. He scoffed as he entered the room. “Are you mad at me?” You said, turning to him. “Mad at you? ‘Fcourse not. Could never be mad at you.” He then paused before saying, “mad at otoya, tho.”

“He seems like a nice guy, tho.” You replied, turning to karasu. “Tch. Sure. Whatever floats your boat, doll.” He snarked pack. You rolled your eyes before hitting his shoulder playfully. “Ouch! What was that for, ya dimwit!?” He squeaked, rubbing his shoulder.

“For being jealousssssss~” “I’M NOT JEALOUS.” “AM!” “AM NOT!” “AMMMM!~~~~” AM NOT!!!” He rolled his eyes before muttering, “yer a dumbass. Why would I be jealous of YOU- OUCH!” He once again squeaked out as you hit his shoulder. “Why’s my shoulder the victim here!?” “Cuz you’re being rude, that’s why!” “AM NOT!” You rolled your eyes before just plopping down on your bed and sighing.

“Come sit here, tabito.” “Tabito? No tabi?” “I called you that ONCE in middle school, tabito! Get over it!” He chuckled before settling down on your bed and letting out a, “eh, I liked it. You should call me that more often, Y/N.” He smirked before looking down at you.

You scowled and grabbed a pillow, throwing it at him. “And YOU should stop wearing that god-awful hair gel!” Karasu was about to snark back before getting a notification. Looking at it, he once again sighed, standing up before saying, “gotta go. Got work to do. Can I get a goodbye hug?” “Not even in your dreams, you doofus!” You say as you stand up and hug him.

“Okay.. don’t forget to come down to the bar tomorrow night, ‘kay? Me and the rest of the guys are gonna be there, so unless you come, you’ll be alone in the house.” He reminded you as your warmth melted away as you settled back on your bed.

“That sounds delightful and peaceful.” You grinned back as he rolled his eyes before going, “right then, I’ll be off. If shidou annoys you, tell rin.” “Yeah, okay, I’ll remember that.” After that, he walked out of your room.

As he left, you stood there, pondering about what you could do. You decided to dress up and go to a library! Surely nothing would go wrong, right?

You just now realized how terribly wrong you were as you spotted a few of karasu’s teammates in the library.

#blue lock #blue lock smau #bllk crack #blue lock x you #bllk isagi #bllk x you #bllk bachira #bllk chigiri #bllk x reader #karasu x reader

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siawritez · 10 hours ago

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hi um UM IDKSH can you plz write dom bully giselle x sub g!p reader who secretly loves being bullied

Title:Beneath her heel

Giselle x Quiet Shy G!P Reader

Warnings: Dark Bully, Dubcon, Rough, Humiliation, Praise, Choking, Degradation — 18+ Only

The halls of St. Cecilia’s Academy always smelled like money.

Polished floors. Crisp uniforms. Pretty faces with ugly hearts.

You knew the rules here — keep your head down, don't make noise, and pray they don't notice you.

You tried.

You really did.

But she always noticed you.

Giselle.

Perfect hair, perfect smirk, perfect cruelty.

She didn't need a reason — sometimes she’d just catch your eye across the lockers, tilt her head like you were some pathetic little insect, and saunter over in her designer shoes to ruin your day.

And you — shy, tongue-tied, hiding behind your books — you just let her.

You liked it, some sick part of you whispered.

You liked when she pushed you against the lockers. When she sneered. When she called you names no one else dared say out loud.

You liked feeling small under her.

You were disgusting.

But you were hers.

---

It started the same way today.

You were by your locker, pretending to read, shoulders hunched, when you heard her voice:

"Aw, look who’s lurking around again," Giselle drawled, loud enough for a few students nearby to snicker. "What’s wrong, freak? Scared of sunlight?"

Your fingers clenched on the book.

You knew better than to answer.

Giselle’s heels clicked closer.

You kept your eyes down — staring at your shoes — heart hammering painfully in your chest.

Then —

SLAM!

Your book hit the floor, knocked clean from your hands.

You flinched instinctively — heat rising up your neck — but didn’t move to pick it up.

"You’re so fucking pathetic," Giselle murmured, close enough that you could feel her breath on your ear. "Look at you. Afraid of everything. Afraid of me."

Your fists trembled at your sides.

"You should be," she whispered. "Because I could do anything I wanted to you. And you’d just take it like a good little loser."

She pressed one manicured finger under your chin, forcing you to look up.

You made the mistake of meeting her eyes — cold, sparkling with vicious amusement — and your breath caught.

Giselle’s mouth curved into a wolfish grin.

"There you are," she said mockingly. "Little freak’s got some life after all."

You shook your head weakly, but it was too late.

She had decided.

---

You didn’t remember how you got here — stumbling blindly after her through empty hallways, down past the unused classrooms — but now you stood frozen in the dusty supply closet, heart slamming against your ribs like it wanted out.

Giselle leaned casually against the door, arms crossed, blocking your only exit.

"Take your pants off," she said lazily.

You froze.

"I said, take them off."

Her voice sharpened, like a whip crack. "Or do you want me to rip them off for you?"

You whimpered without meaning to.

Shaking, you fumbled with your belt.

Your pants slid down to your ankles — humiliating — and you stood there trembling in your boxers, your body already betraying you, your erection tenting the thin fabric.

Giselle laughed.

"Oh my god," she snorted. "You’re hard already? From what — me bullying you? God, you’re even more fucked up than I thought."

Hot shame burned down your spine.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

"Pathetic," she spat, stepping forward. "Fucking pervert."

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your boxers and yanked them down — rough, careless — making you gasp.

Your cock sprang free, aching, dripping already.

Giselle whistled lowly.

"Well, shit," she drawled. "Didn’t expect the freak to be packing."

You whimpered, face burning.

She tilted her head, studying you like you were something nasty under her shoe — then, with deliberate cruelty, she grabbed your cock in one hand and squeezed, hard enough to make you yelp.

"Aww, poor thing," she cooed mockingly. "Sensitive?"

You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your throat.

Her hand jerked you once, twice — cruel, teasing — and you nearly buckled, your knees wobbling.

Giselle’s smile widened.

"You like this, don't you?" she said low and dangerous. "You like me using you. Treating you like my personal fucktoy."

You sobbed, head spinning.

And it wasn’t just the humiliation — it was her voice, her eyes, the way she owned you without even trying.

It was everything you’d secretly, desperately craved.

"God, you’re embarrassing," Giselle sneered, still lazily pumping your cock in her hand, as if she owned it — like it was hers to use, hers to humiliate.

"You’re leaking all over my hand. Look at you."

You whimpered again, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to fight back the noises threatening to spill out.

But Giselle was relentless.

"You’re so desperate," she said, almost conversationally. "Bet you dream about this, don’t you? Dream about me laughing at you. Jerking you off like you’re my pathetic little bitch."

You shook your head frantically, tears stinging your eyes.

She laughed cruelly.

"Fucking liar."

Without warning, she shoved you back against the wall — the dusty shelves rattling behind you — and pressed her body flush against yours.

The heat of her skin, the press of her thigh between your legs — it was dizzying.

Giselle’s hand shot up and grabbed your throat.

Not gently.

Tight. Possessive. Cruel.

You gasped, eyes going wide, as her fingers dug into your neck — cutting off just enough air to make your head spin deliciously.

"Look at me," she hissed.

You forced your watery gaze up to hers.

"You're mine," she said, low and brutal. "You belong under me. Under my fucking heel."

She squeezed harder, watching your face flush red, your lips parting helplessly.

"You like this," she whispered. "You like being choked. You like being my little toy."

You whimpered — the sound broken, desperate — hips jerking against her thigh involuntarily.

Giselle laughed softly, almost tenderly, but it was cruel tenderness — the way a cat might play with a half-dead mouse.

"You’re sick," she murmured, leaning in close, her breath hot against your mouth.

"But I’ll use you anyway."

---

She shoved you down roughly — you stumbled, landing hard on your knees.

You barely had time to gasp before she was dragging your head toward her, forcing your face against her clothed pussy — grinding against you shamelessly through the thin fabric of her panties.

"Make yourself useful," she snarled, rutting her hips against your face. "You’re good for one thing, freak."

You moaned — helpless, humiliated, hard as a rock — as you obediently licked and sucked through the damp cotton, your cock throbbing miserably between your thighs.

Giselle ground herself against you harder, her fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

"Fuck," she gasped, voice ragged. "You're better at this than I thought."

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest — humiliation and desperate pride tangled together.

You wanted her praise.

You needed it.

Even if it came wrapped in cruelty.

Even if she only gave it to you because you were pathetic enough to crawl for it.

---

After what felt like an eternity, she shoved you back, panting slightly.

"Enough," she barked, standing tall again — towering over you, looking down at you like you were scum on her shoes.

Your knees ached from the cold floor. Your throat hurt from being choked. Your face was wet from her.

And you had never been harder in your life.

Giselle smirked down at you.

"Take your pathetic little cock and jerk yourself off," she said mockingly.

"Right here. On the fucking floor. Like the worthless freak you are."

Your hand shook as you obeyed, wrapping your trembling fingers around your throbbing shaft.

You couldn’t help it — you whimpered as you stroked yourself, the friction almost unbearable after everything she had done.

Giselle watched with detached amusement, arms crossed, as you debased yourself for her.

"You’re disgusting," she said coldly.

"But at least you're mine."

The shame, the cruelty, the faint, poisonous pride in her voice — it was too much.

You sobbed, your whole body trembling, as you came hard — spilling all over yourself, dripping onto the dusty floor.

Giselle laughed — high and delighted — as you knelt there, a ruined mess at her feet.

"You’re lucky I even touched you," she sneered, stepping over you like you were nothing.

"Clean yourself up, freak."

She turned on her heel and sauntered out of the closet, not even sparing you a second glance.

You collapsed against the wall, heart hammering, throat sore, body wrecked.

You had never felt more humiliated.

You had never felt more alive.

---

#aespa x reader #smut #aespa #giselle #giselle x reader #karina x reader #g!p reader

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blondeaxolotl · 16 hours ago

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WAIT WAIT MONO demon bugfolk?? Im very intrigued. so you said they aren’t actually bugfolk, yeah? whats the difference? are they just demons who have buggish features?

Hiii Bunniiee :Dc I hope you're ready for a yap session LMAO

Bug demons mimic actual bugfolks! In both appearances, behaviour and culture, but of course they are still their own thing. Though, they basically are just "demons who have buggish features"

Bugfolks are probably the most unique looking creatures in my au, they have wings, antennae, and multiple limbs. But most importantly they're the nicest out of any creatures 💜, the most "threatening" looking bug is still as nice as that ladybug bugfolk you talked to. The only time you should be worried about bugfolks harming you is if you've made yourself out to be a threat/danger and out to harm someone, then get ready to be chased down by either an army of ants or a swarm of wasps LMAO

Bug demons are demons who mimic and try to blend in with the other bugfolks, they are not "true bugs", they're just a type of demon that looks like one. When you're not paying attention it's pretty easy to mistake a bug demon for a bugfolk. A few details you should look out for is to see if there's any horns on them, since they don't bother hiding them it shouldn't be hard. But sometimes their horns can be their replacements for antennae, so you might have to look closer and see if their "antennae" are moving or if they're just stiff as hell (meaning they're horns).

another detail is sometimes they lack the "extra limbs", all bugfolks have extra limbs, four arms (or legs) or more. A majority of demons can shapeshift to change their appearance, bug demons included. Surprisingly a lot of bug demons prefer to just have less limbs than more, the only time they have extra is to blend in, but those who don't try to just continue walking around with their two arms. It might not be a big difference for other creatures, but for bugfolks it's kind of uncanny valley to see a "bugfolk" without their extra limbs. Bugfolks are always the first to notice when a "bug" isn't their kin

Even though they try to mimic bugfolk behaviours, a lot of bug demons are naturally more.. Rude and insensitive. An example of this is dealing wiith someone who's afraid of bugs: Bugfolks are immediately alerted when there's someone who has a phobia of bugs, they keep their distance from them and avoid touching them unless given permission to, they'll talk to the person, but they won't force them to look at them or do anything the person doesn't want them to do. If a person with a bug phobia enters their hometown, they'll do their best to make sure the person can enjoy their stay in comfort just like someone who doesn't have a phobia of bugs. They're also given a bright colored ribbon with large bells attached to wear on their wrist, this is to alert other bugfolks to avoid accidentally touching them or scaring them. Bugfolks want everyone to feel welcomed and safe in their hometown, so people with bug phobias are treated extra nice, basically princess treatment for them 💜💜💜

Bug demons on the other hand.. questions asked immediately, persons comfort later. Majority of bug demons cannot seem to grasp the idea of a "phobia", and that usually means they try to get into the persons face while asking them questions they can't answer (and most of them they're also either insulting them or poking fun of them because they think it's funny). Examples would be:

- "A phobia of bugs? What, are you scared of me or something?" <- tries to get into the persons view and force them to look at them. - "Eh? If you're scared of us, why the hell are you here? Are you trying to make yourself look more pathetic?" <- in response to the person staying in the bugfolks hometown - "Whoops! Sorry! I couldn't see the bells you're wearing, maybe wear them on your head next time hehe" <- after purposely poking the person hard after noticing the bells and acting like they "didn't see it".

These are only some examples, but in conclusion bug demons like to pick on those who have any kind of phobias of bugs. Not all of them do this thankfully, but in general this is basically the main reason why bug demons quickly get tackled and banished (rare times even killed) from the bugfolks hometown. If there's anything that bugfolks hate, it's bullies, especially those who pick on someone for something they can't control. Bugfolks want to make themselves out to be friendly and welcoming, if some asshole tries to sabotage their reputation, the end result for that guy won't be pretty.

Bug demons originally snuck into bugfolks hometown and try to blend in for the purpose to catch one bugfolk off guard and devour them, but in recent years few bug demons just full on moved in and adapted to living with the bugfolks because it's way more peaceful here than where they come from. Not all bug demons are rude and out to eat someone while others are, so bugfolks are fine with sharing their space with them as long as they're respectful and do not harm anyone.

Bugfolks might not be as strong as other creatures like beastfolks n such, but lord I don't think any creature would survive pissing off or harming someone in front of them and the next thing you see is hundreds of angry giant wasps speeding directly towards you with either the intention to kick you out or harm you (pray it's the former)

Insane long yap but yeah tldr Bugfolks: actual bug, nice, friendly, will only harm you if you attacked first or are picking on someone. Bug Demons: not bugs, they're demons, some are nice but alot of them are not, they bully those with phobias because "funny", they eat actual bugfolks. Yeah that's about it I think

#Hope that makes sense to explain at least some of their differences #Love yapping about the bugfolks in my au those mfs are the nicest bastards in this whole au #I hope you imagined Jamil for the how bugfolks vs bug demons deal with people with phobias of bugs cause I sure did #anyways lets pray Jamil never runs into a bug demon LMAO #also btw their sizes don't matter I just drew the bug demon bigger because I felt like it #monodukes art #monoduke ask

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stargazingmoonz · 1 day ago

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Stargazing Wolfstar

In his fourth year of Hogwarts, Remus started to hurt anytime he was around Sirius too long. He’d see Sirius’ bright eyes, or the way he’d play with his hair without thinking, or how he’d bite his lip when concentrating and Remus would be filled with such a longing that he couldn’t breathe.

Even worse, he’d see Sirius sneaking away from the group to hang out with random girls, never the same one twice, and he’d suffocate.

So, sometimes he’d sneak away. It started off with him leaving the dorm when he thought he could get away unnoticed and he’d leave the castle. He wouldn’t go far, just to a hidden away spot that was distant enough to see the stars clearly.

But he couldn’t help but feel okay as he looked at the stars, and realise how small he was. How big the universe was and how everything he knew was nothing in comparison. The stars didn’t care about his pathetic crush and that somehow comforted him.

After a while, he started to go every night. He didn’t even care that his friends had started to take notice, he just needed that escape. And it worked, he really was coping better now.

That was, until this night. Remus had been lying in his spot as usual, looking up at the stars and lost in thought about the shade of Sirius’ blush, when someone had laid down next to him. Sirius himself.

“That’s Ursa Major up there.”

“What?” Remus was startled. Nothing had broken the peace of the night in this spot before. He’d never considered that someone could, that he could be found.

“Ursa Major. The bear constellation, see it makes the shape?”

“Right.”

Sirius turned on his side to face Remus, close enough that he could feel the warmth of the boy’s breathe.

“What are you doing here, Remus?”

“Nothing really. Just… looking up.” Remus shrugged, still looking towards the sky and silently refusing to look at Sirius.

“It’s peaceful isn’t it? Looking up at the constellations.”

“Yeah. Helps to clear my mind.”

“What’s got your mind so full that you have to come here every night Moony?” Sirius didn’t sound accusatory, or even curious. Just caring, like he wanted Remus to feel safe talking to him. It made him feel sick, knowing how his friend had no idea about the way he felt about him.

“Nothing much. Schoolwork, prank ideas, you know.”

“Come on, Moony. I know that’s not it, you’ve been different lately. I’ve been worried.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it Sirius.” Remus kept his eyes locked on the stars, hoping it wasn’t obvious how he felt like he throw up his heart.

“Is it a girl? Because you know I can help you out, if that’s… if that’ll make you feel better.” Sirius sounded strange, though Remus was sure his hearing had been muffled by the intense beating of his chest.

“No. It’s not that Sirius, just drop it. I don’t want to talk.”

“Right. Okay. I’m sorry, you came here to get away from us and here I am bothering you. I’ll leave you alone.”

Sirius moved to get up but Remus grabbed his wrist, finally looking at his face. The boy had a soft warmth to his cheeks, illuminated by the glow of the moon.

“It’s alright. You can stay a while. The stars look nice tonight, I woudln’t want to steal that from you.”

A grin grew on Sirius’ face. “I suppose I couldn’t leave you here, not knowing anything about the stars you’re looking at.”

“Oh piss off, not all of us grew up with a private astronomy tutor.”

With that, they lay together underneath the sky.

Everything wasn’t alright for Remus, not quite. He glanced at Sirius and thought about all the ways he wanted him, how much he’d love to kiss him when he told him about the constellations, how he’d like to stargaze in his arms. And it still hurt.

But now at least he didn’t have to feel so small.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #if anyone likes this I’ll write a second part #… but I’ll wait until the despressive episodes over so it’s not so sad #Remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #marauders

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nhl-stories · 9 hours ago

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Head Spinning – Miles Wood

Summary: Even after a gut-wrenching break up, you're finding difficult to extricate yourself from Miles life.

Author’s Note: Definite adult content further in so fair warning. Also sort-of a kidfic if that's not your thing.

Word Count: 2.1k

13 going on 30 is playing on the TV because you’re determined to teach Mikayla about the importance of an early aughts romcom.

Neither of you are really paying attention, the focus on the puzzle on the coffee table. Though you’re realizing the fruit puzzle is looking a bit more vaginal when the image is blown up like this.

“Your big 13th is coming up, any party plans?” you slot in the last piece of an especially sexual-looking grapefruit.

“Dad says I might get to have a boy-girl party.”

You snort before you can stop yourself.

“And maybe dad will be on a road trip and you can chaperone,” she doesn’t even try to use her puppy eyes, because she knows it’s a pipe dream.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

You have no reason to, but you feel like doing Miles a bit of a solid. Or maybe it’s just you trying to preserve Mikayla’s youth a little longer.

“You have plenty of years to hang out with boys, and even then, it’s pretty overrated. I say have a slumber party with endless amounts of pizza and sugar.”

“Will you come over for cake and presents?”

“You’ll have to ask your dad.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“I know, but I think your Dad and I need to set up new boundaries. And that means not being at so many family things.”

“You’re basically my mom.”

“Well, I’m not your mom,” you feel yourself snap a little without meaning to, it’s a bit of a sore subject.

You take a breath and calm down, “your dad made it clear I’m not and I need to respect that.”

Mikayla has a lot to say on that subject.

“But babysitting me or going to parent-teacher conferences is okay not-mom stuff?”

“I guess,” you shrug. “You sometimes need an adult when your dad is away.”

You don’t really know how to explain it yourself. But you don’t feel like breaking open that box, so you take the easy way out and find some levity.

“I think it’s more like I can’t buy you bras anymore.”

“Gross, I’m never going bra shopping with dad.”

You giggle at the thought of Miles pacing the edge of the bra section of a Target, refusing to look in his daughter’s direction.

The conversation dies down and you both look up at the movie when “Ice Ice Baby” starts playing. And just like a dad, Miles walks in right when the man takes off his pants.

“What the hell are you watching?”

“13 going on 30,” you both say without looking towards him.

He stays standing behind the couch to watch, also a classic dad move.

“Why are you in your pajamas,” Miles finally moves to sit on the couch, ruffling Mikayla’s hair as he sits behind her.

“I didn’t think you were coming home tonight,” you shrug.

“What?”

“You’ve been seeing this woman for a bit, I just thought, you know…”

“We thought you’d be getting laid tonight,” Mikayla butts in, and Miles looks a bit scandalized.

“I didn’t tell her that,” you feel the need to defend yourself.

“I’m a middle schooler with the last name Wood, I know what sex is.”

You have to hold back a laugh, the tween has always lacked a filter. The older she gets the more the results shock Miles.

You’re sure gray hairs will be popping up soon.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Miles says.

She makes a face and opens her mouth, something snarky surely on the tip of her tongue.

You give her warning eyes and shake your head. She groans and gets up to go to bed.

“Wait,” you hold open your arms, “good night hug.”

She rolls her eyes but comes to hug you anyway, still sweet underneath the budding teenage angst.

Miles grabs her before she can pass, squeezing her tight and kissing her temple.

Then the awkward silence sets in. You wiggle your toes into the soft rug, the one you picked out after the cross-country move.

“You don’t talk to her about that, right?”

“No,” you dig in your heels, notice the chip in your second toe’s nail polish.

You think someone should probably start talking to her about those kinds of things, and you know Miles won’t be the one to do it. But that’s not really your business anymore.

“But she’s not stupid and she’s the result of a teen pregnancy, she probably knows more than you’d like.”

Miles grimaces.

“But I do think I laid some groundwork for a slumber party over a boy-girl party so really you should be thanking me.”

Some tension leaks out of his shoulders, “I’m not ready for her to be going to parties with boys.”

“Boys are gross, I try to make that clear to her,” you smile and bump Miles shoulder.

“Thanks for looking after her,” he smiles, his teeth are in which is weirdly jarring, “We’ll see you around, I guess?”

“You trying to kick me out? No way, I’m already in my PJs, my night routine is done. I’m spending the night and you’re making breakfast in the morning.”

Miles stares you down.

“This wouldn’t have been a problem if you had gotten laid.”

“How do you know I didn’t get laid?”

“You like to cuddle too much to have left afterwards,” you hate that this all feels like picking up a well-loved book: familiar, comfortable.

You don’t mean to add on, you don’t want to know, “especially if you like this woman.”

Still, you dare to look at him. His face doesn’t give much away.

“She’s nice, still early days.”

He’s acting nonchalant but you can tell he’s uncomfortable. Something stiff in place of his usual easy-going vibes. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to talk about this with you.

You’re not sure if you want to dig your claws in and find more answers, or too afraid they’ll be the ones you hate.

“How’s your dating life going?” He throws out casually.

And if there’s any avenue of conversation you definitely don’t want to get into, it’s your own non-existent dating life.

Miles had ripped your heart out on a random October afternoon. And you’ve been too busy rebuilding a life on your own, you haven’t even thought about dating. Miles doesn’t seem to have the same problem bouncing back.

“Do you really want to know about that?” You arch a brow, so it sounds like a challenge, hoping he can’t see through the mask.

He shrugs, “You seem pretty confident about the number of dates to sex ratio, maybe I want to know if that’s from personal experience.”

His mischievous grin feels like hot knife cutting through your guts. So, you do something impulsive and dumb.

Swinging a leg over his lap and kissing him before you can think twice. He doesn’t kiss back right away and you’re worried you’ve miscalculated this. But then he starts to kiss back, you find a rhythm even if it’s weird with his teeth in.

Miles grabs your hips and pushes you back a bit.

You have to scramble to say something before he says this is a bad idea; lets you down easy and you have to slither away to smother yourself with his guest room pillows.

“Let’s just agree we’re both a little hard up and this doesn’t have to mean anything.”

He certainly has no argument when he lifts you up and starts to carry you towards the stairs.

“No, guest room, Mik will probably hear us in your room,” you squeeze your thighs against him and he changes course.

He tosses you onto the guest bed, crawling on top of you and kissing you again.

You push his shoulders back so you can look at him, “take the stupid teeth out.”

Miles laughs and pops out the bridge. It’s kind of gross seeing him set them on the bedside table, a long trail of spit pulling until it finally snaps.

It doesn’t really faze you once your tongue traces that familiar gap. In fact, the thing that once was new and a bit disturbing is now putting your body into overdrive.

You’d describe it like riding a bike, how easy it is to remove each others clothes, how Miles knows the exact spots to kiss to make you gasp, how you know the best moment to take control and flip Miles onto his back.

Familiar intimacy that’s hard to forget.

You spit on your hand and reach behind you, stroking Miles from half to full hardness. When you rub your thumb over the head, he lets out a deep groan that you know means he’s starting to tilt towards his orgasm.

When you look down at his blissed out face lying against the deep green sheets the ones that contrast so much from the light crisp blue ones in the main bedroom, you’re reminded how long it’s actually been.

Maybe you should ask if you need to grab a condom, the thought makes you a little lightheaded.

Miles grip on your hips tightens, like you actually froze while stuck in thought, or maybe the lifting motion he’s making just means he wants you to get on with it.

So you lift yourself higher and move him until you can slide down in one smooth motion. You let a high-pitched squeak slip out at the sudden pressure and fullness.

But you quickly adjust and start working yourself up and down. Miles hands start to roam up your body, cupping your breast and thumbing at your nipples.

Your thighs start to burn faster than they used to, but you try to keep up the pace. It’s a losing battle, even if the crest of your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

Miles seems to read that your legs are losing steam, a few months isn’t long enough to stop innately knowing everything about a person. He flips you both over and thrusts hard enough to hit that deep spot just so. You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning obnoxiously loud.

He keeps up the pace and you edge closer and closer. He moves your hand and kisses you and it’s so all-consuming you just let go. Clamping down so tight, Miles topples over the edge too. You release into the floaty, loose-limbed bliss.

You don’t even care when Miles practically rag dolls on top of you; just let the afterglow settle until he softens enough to slip out and you become all too aware of the nauseating oozing feeling.

After a quick clean up in the bathroom you’re not surprised to see Miles has made himself comfortable, probably in a near coma sleep. Typical.

You crawl into the bed, too aware that it’s on your usual side of the bed. You don’t have a side of the bed at your apartment now. Even in his deep sleep Miles is drawn to the new heat source, burrowing into your side. You’ll relish in it even if it makes your heart ache a little.

Everything is so familiar, but it will never be the same again.

You wake up the next morning in the middle of the bed, alone. It’s what you should have expected. You feel like you should be over it, or at least on some trajectory to moving on, but it’s hard to stop loving someone cold turkey.

Making your way into the kitchen, Miles is already brewing coffee and stirring waffle batter. He gives you a toothless grin as you sit at the kitchen table.

He pours you a cup of coffee, puts in just the right amount of almond milk. You can’t help but smile back over the lip of the mug. These are the moment you loved so much, that you imagined having for the rest of your life.

You can give yourself the right to soak this in, enjoy it while you can.

Mikayla comes downstairs, looking mostly awake, “Ooh dad’s making waffles? Did he lose a bet?”

“I don’t have to lose a bet to make breakfast for my favorite girls,” he says it with some conviction, like it’s the truth, full stop.

Mikayla looks between the two of you, a scrutinizing kind of look that a teenage girl masters. Her gaze stays on you for a moment longer, like she definitely figured something out.

“Whatever, keep your secrets. Do we have any of those Trader Joe’s hash browns?”

Mikayla looks at you one more time before going to the freezer. Even if she knows something she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She’s gonna soak up this one morning, just in case it’s actually the last.

#miles wood #colorado avalanche #miles wood fic #miles wood imagines #nhl fic #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche imagines #nhl stories #nhl #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey fic #nhl imagines

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